PINE TREE .ᐣ

jasper had been on a pedestal his entire life. the only time he had been granted a semblance of normality was when he first arrived in elias. he had peers for the first time in his life, and not people who clamored around him in hopes their proximity to him would grant them privilege. it was nice to just be just another face in the crowd. accepting his role as councilor had catapulted jasper right back up to the top. not that he longed to be above others; if anything it was the opposite. "if you strip away my title, i'm just another man." he was humbled often by the people in his life. they kept jasper grounded when his hubris dared to inflate his ego on a rare occasion.

"your sister has a pet pig?" his eyes shone with intrigue. strange pets had always piqued his interest. After all, he walked around with a ghost dog. a pig wasn't out of the norm in his books. "if you're ever in need of a home-cooked meal, donnie and i have an outrageous amount of leftovers between the two of us." they didn't. jasper was precise in his cooking to ensure they kept their food waste to a minimum. cooking & baking were a science to him. jasper had always had a soft spot for those who were younger than him. the child of hallow falls often flocked to him. they didn't see him as a prince like their parents. they saw someone they admired, someone they wanted to be as frightening as. he had already become an accidental parental figure of sorts to kate. it seems jasper was slowly collecting children that didn't belong to him and taking care of them. because someone had to. "you're always more than welcome to stop by."

which  is  true,  dipper  thinks—but  it’s  a  title  that  has,  within  likely  assumptions,  informed  most  of  jasper’s  life,  hasn’t  it?  something  that’s  granted  him  access  to  higher  circles,  and  probably  played  a  role  in  his  council  appointment.  jasper’s  even  mentioned  it  himself,  the  level  removed  from  a  normal  childhood;  private  chefs  and  all.  “  but  you’d  still  be  a  former,  technically,  ”  dipper  points  out.  “  you  had  the  title.  people  know  you  had  the  title.  and  it’s  not  like  you  can  just…  ”  he  falters,  searching  for  the  words.  “  i  don’t  know,  wipe  everyone’s  minds.  ”

one  of  the  best  things  about  elias  is  that  he  can  say  things  and  be  believed.  nothing  is  outlandish  enough  to  earn  him  the  kind  of  judgmental  stares  and  ridicule  high  schoolers  in  piedmont  are  just  so  good  at  dishing  out.  a  pet  pig  in  a  suburban  neighborhood  is  either  cute  or  a  scare,  and  either  way,  it’s  strange—with  strange  being  a  source  of  pride  for  dipper,  sure,  but  considering  how  often  waddles  has  eaten  his  homework,  he’s  a  little  less  thrilled  by  his  presence.  “  yeah,  he’s  basically  our  third  roommate  at  this  point.  tracks  in  just  as  much  mud  as  you’d  think  he  would…  what  about  you?  you  have  anything  waiting  for  you  back  home?”

“  thanks.  ”  he  softens  at  the  extended  welcome,  words  escaping  quieter  in  an  already  empty  kitchen.  dipper  does  not  give  trust  easily;  everything  in  front  of  him  is  met  with  layers  of  skepticism,  authority  included.  his  teachers  in  elias  have  only  reinforced  that  sentiment,  and  his  encounters  with  government  figures  have  usually  involved  (successfully)  outsmarting  them  instead  of  blind  obedience.  but  having  somewhere  to  land  for  a  taste  of  something  homemade  is  tempting.

the one thing her force-fields definitely weren't good at was subtlety. violet scowled as she spotted another possessed set of armour charging towards her, this time with what looked like a jousting lance. she could have the field up but the sparking bright purple drew everyone's eye — 🫧

the lance bounced off her field and the momentum rattled the armour enough for her to run.

when she saw someone coming her way, she shook her head wildly. "nope! no, no, no, not this way —" violet stopped herself in her tracks to open up a spherical shield just behind them in case the armour with the lance went for them again. "do you know this place? where's somewhere safe? who's coming to fix it?"

He'd stuck to his meal prep, kept his portions on lock, and followed the workout regimen Dash had set up for him. But today was finally his cheat day. He had to indulge just a little.

And a supreme was his vice.

The smell of garlic butter and baking dough hung in the air, making the wait feel twice as long.

He shuffled forward with the line, head bobbing to Determinate by Lemonade Mouth through his headphones.

Someone stepped up beside him, saying something he couldn't quite make out. Judging by how quickly their lips were moving, they'd been talking for at least a few seconds before he noticed.

Max held up a finger in apology, paused his music, and slipped one earcup off.

"that... sounds like a good compromise." she hummed. sylvie wasn't sure dancing was the best idea all things considered, but she still wanted to dance regardless. the idea of spinning around was happy to be here surrounded by her best friends. "do you embarrass yourself often?" the princess asked, tilting her head to the side, she felt like she was bouncing more than she normally did. "i'm sylvie, by the way. you might've seen me at the bakery."

he looks back at dipper for a moment and follows his gaze to the headphones, nodding slowly. “i can help you cheat, if you want? probably wouldn’t be that hard if we got our timing right. i can make sure it goes in and that one there,” his eyes gesture to the pier worker. “wouldn’t suspect a thing. i mean, i could also probably just nab the headphones but i probably shouldn’t steal, cheating’s different. doesn’t count.”

“trees? outside? really?” she says with sarcastic eagerness, before the guilt flares up again to war with her prickliness. she sighs, turning to look out the window at the gardens and then the city, all strange in the wrong way. “outside is all wrong too, i just... needed a second. and in my experience, you're a lot less likely to get cursed when you're indoors,” she continues, her best attempt at an olive branch.

she clears her throat and tears her gaze away from the view to eye the bag he's picked up with blatant curiosity. “what've you got in there?” she asks, hoping to change the subject. “and why're you leaving it lying around? good way to get things stolen, you know.”

“  i  didn’t  just  leave  it  lying  around.  ”  a  pause.  “  ...  okay,  i  did.  but  you  try  dancing  while  you’ve  got  a  block  attached  to  your  side.  ”  he  gives  a  small  shrug.  “  besides,  i  don’t  think  anything  in  here  is  worth  stealing.  ”

phone,  wallet,  journal;  all  accounted  for,  tucked  safely  into  his  suit.  he  can  thank  mabel  for  that  one,  who  managed  to  construct  something  with  pockets  deep  enough  to  actually  be  useful,  making  his  night  less  of  a  logistical  nightmare.

as  for  the  bag,  dipper  unzips  it  all  the  way  and  holds  its  open  face—similar  to  a  magician’s  level  of  theatrics,  though  with  contents  not  as  showy  in  this  instance—before  carefully  lifting  out  a  slim  plastic  container.  he  pops  the  lid,  revealing  an  assortment  of  macarons,  obtained  earlier  during  his  kitchen  sneak  with  a  councilor.  “  you  wanted  fancy  food,  right?  ”

as milo stood behind the edge of one of the bookcases, wide eyed at the commotion around him and a broken chair leg held defensively in front of him, he couldn’t help but think about all the choices he had made up until this moment. he had lived a relatively tame life until coming to elias, a cushioned life if he was being completely honest, and he was starting to miss the basement he’d made his home at the smithsonian. he usually hated it, but in hindsight? at least no magical armoured knights were trying to take him down, and suddenly that was a pretty big selling point for him.

mandy enters the ballroom and almost immediately feels like she is suffocating. the lights are too bright, aroma too strong, and she wonders why she even showed up to begin with. is the whole fucking city in this room? she, she wonders and she observes. the appeal of things like this may be lost on a girl like mandy, but she's willing to sit back and learn until she determines that the music is too loud.

whether the music is actually too loud of her tolerance is just a bit drained, mandy has no clue - but it doesn't matter, anyway. she let's her dress billow behind her as she rushes toward open air with a lighter in one hand and the other digging deep in her bag for a pack of cigarettes. it comes with a sigh of relief when she pulls out the box and places one between her lips, lighting it. she considers for a moment if she's better off going home when a voice of similar overwhelm cut through her train of thought.

Kate listened with the full attention of someone who had absolutely not asked a normal question. By the end of Dipper's answer, she was nodding thoughtfully. "I just want to thank you for taking the question seriously." It was stated as if she didn't expect anything less whilst she was still processing every detail that was shared with her. In truth, it was part of the reason she thought he was so cool - but, the raven-haired woman would never admit that aloud. If she did, it was 6ft in the ground for Kate Bishop.

She grabbed a passing appetizer from a tray without looking at it, examined it suspiciously, then immediately put it back. It was close, but her intuition was screaming not to engage in the food, like, at all. Her gaze quickly returned to Dipper. "I think you're giving Bigfoot too much credit. You assume he'd be good at blending in."

She gestured around the ballroom. "Look at these people. Half of them have spent three hours discussing decorative centerpieces. You could release an actual cryptid in here and they'd just assume he was somebody's wealthy uncle from Norway." Her expression grew more serious for a moment as her thought process started to hit the flow zone. "Actually, that's exactly how cryptids survive." The realization seemed to hit her in real time, an "Oh my God" leaving her as she grabbed his arm. It was that big. "Dipper..." Her voice was lowered for dramatic effect. "What if Bigfoot isn't hiding in the woods anymore? What if he's been attending charity galas for decades and nobody notices because everyone is too polite to ask why he's covered in hair?" She was completely committed to the theory now. "'No, darling, that's just Lord Sasquatch of Somewhere Important.'" Kate added a snobby laugh following her faux English accent. "'His family owns lumber.'" Then, she nearly full-belly laughed at her own joke before glancing around the ballroom again. "Honestly, I'd respect it. Better life strategy than whatever I'm doing."

She leaned closer conspiratorially. "I've been here two hours and I already accidentally joined a conversation about competitive sailing." Her eyes narrowed as she huffed at herself. She should know better by now. "I don't know anything about sailing, Pinecone. I nodded for fifteen straight minutes." Then she pointed toward a cluster of elegantly dressed guests across the room. "One of those people definitely hunts cryptids for sport." Her point then shifted to another individual. "That woman over there absolutely has a cursed portrait in her attic." And, lastly, one man caught her attention and she pointed at him. "That guy? Secret wizard."

Kate looked back at Dipper, so sure of herself. "You can't tell me I'm wrong. This town has permanently damaged my ability to distinguish between normal rich people and supernatural threats." A grin tugged at her mouth like she wouldn't have it any other way.

A gentle smile graces Jasper's features. Dipper had the look of a child who had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He could recall far and few times in his youth when he would sneak back into the kitchen for a treat or two. His father was adamant about limiting sweets, but the staff adored Jasper. They would take the wrath of Alaric Skellington to see Jasper smile even more for a moment. The scene felt all too familiar, causing Jasper's heart to swell with an ache of the past he had long since forgotten.

He held up his hand, his smile never faltering. "Please, Jasper is just fine." The title of a councilman was just another weight Jasper carried. He learned the balancing act of importance from a young age. Here, his title didn't have to cage him. Jasper had learned to separate himself. His worth was not tied to his title. There was no pedestal he could fall from. If anything, no one was placing him on anything. His hubris had been humbled immensely. "Not a big deal at all. In fact, it's quite smart. This food shouldn't go to waste." Waste came hand in hand with opulence. Something he had seen firsthand. Food prepared for so many was thrown away after his parents' parties instead of being given to those in need. They could afford to toss food like it was nothing while so many didn't have that luxury. Jasper would rather Dipper sneak as many pieces as he wanted than see this food suffer the same fate. Though he was sure Minnie would donate the leftovers to local pantries. "Of course. It's why I came back here." He smiled, devious and mischievous like he was sixteen again. A part of himself he had since locked away for a more mature stance on life, but that rowdy skeleton lived in him always, only peaking out in certain moments. "How do you intend to escape with all this cake?"

"i don't know magic, but i'm sure someone can fix your outfit." she stood still in place, hoping that she'd be able to prevent spilling anymore champagne. "oh, gosh, that's what song it is. i couldn't tell." sylvie just knew that she'd heard it before and she liked it. she turned to watch the people dancing. "neither have i, but i haven't been to this kind of event in a long time." or not one this happy. "hm? sit. yeah maybe." she looked at the seats. "i do want to keep dancing though."

Kate had officially reached her social battery limit somewhere between the third overly formal conversation about philanthropy and the fifth person asking if she'd 'considered taking up ballroom dancing competitively.' She had not. She also wasn't convinced half the hors d'oeuvres weren't enchanted.

With a sigh, she slipped away from the edge of the dance floor, abandoning a champagne flute she'd been carrying purely as a prop. It made people less likely to stop and talk to you if they thought you were already occupied. Unfortunately, it also made them assume you were drinking whatever suspiciously sparkling concoction the fairy godmothers had whipped up. Hard pass.

Her eyes scanned the ballroom until they landed on a familiar face. She instantly bee-lined to him. "Pinecone!" The nickname left her small frame easily. "Settle something for me." It was quick because she was quick. No time for small talk, all time for whatever nonsense was about to rescue her from her inner hell and Dipper had no say on the matter.

"If Bigfoot entered a ballroom wearing a tux, does he become significantly harder to identify, or is the size-eightteen footprint still kind of a giveaway?"

LOCATION: summer solstice ball, evening/night

Beatrice curls into her seat on the window ledge, forcefully yanking the curtain closed to hide her from the rest of the ball. She rests her feet against the sliver of wall opposite her, covering her knees in a swathe of blue fabric. This whole thing is stupid. She shouldn't have come. Between the fire-eaters and the sword-swallowers, there's too much happening to feel like home.

She catches a glimpse of her reflection in the window - wrong - and habitually lifts a hand to feel for feathers. It flutters there a moment before she pulls it away lest she ruin her hair. She'd put it up in a half-remembered copy of the way her mother used to do it, the way she herself had begrudgingly done it for one of her sisters. The dress she's wearing feels like something half-remembered too. Same with the dancing. When she looks at the ballroom she remembers learning to dance. Standing on her father's feet while they whirled around in front of the fire. And later too, the more formal stuff with her mother reminding her of the footwork. A ball, and she's hiding herself away. Mother would be so disappointed, she thinks like a needle to the heart.

She huffs out a beleaguered sigh. Then startles badly as someone pushes aside the curtain hiding her away. “Jiminy Christmas!” she scowls, dropping her feet back down to the floor. “Unless you're here to offer me fancy food, this spot's taken!”