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Don’t be alarmed, Hive City, if you walk by Sector 6 and hear the gentle giggling coming from the woods.. Did you see that? No, of course not, there’s no such thing as fairies. You must be losing your mind. If you hear soft voices and sing song tones, it would be best to stay away from District Mu.. at least, for now.

[[Hello hello hello my lovely muns! It’s been three years since I’ve done a mini event so I’m really excited. Last time I did one of these I had so much fun, so here we go again! I’m stoked, I’ve been planning this for months.

On August 1st, I (well, Light) will be hosting a Midsummer’s Night Dream themed summer ball which will take place in Sector 6, District Mu! The ball itself takes place on the 1st, but starters for the ball can be written from the 1st of August to the 8th of August, so the ball itself will have only been one night in Citta canon, but the event will be a week real time. It’ll be a semi formal to formal type deal and I’ll be contacting a couple people through out the month (IC) about things like food, drink, decor, etc.

So! Do me a favor and reblog this post! Just like the last ball I did, I’m going to be making invitations for everyone who does (Citta affiliated blogs only, obviously) which means your submit box needs to be open so your character can get theirs.

Use the tag #ca midsummer as easy access for starters, dash commentary, invite submissions, etc. so that it’s easier for people to follow. That’s the tag I’ll be using for updates or news about the event as well!

So, with not having much to do, another unproductive day, no surprise, he figured he would people watch– one little female managed to catch his attention. 

There was a tiny cat that was hissing at her, but the woman remain persistent, it seemed she wanted to pet it but the cat would refuse and hiss harder as she tried over and over. It went on for minutes until the deaf Tagged decided to help her out. Walking towards the diminutive woman and the cat, his footsteps ceased when he was in front of the cat and woman. All he had to do was spare a single glance at the cat and the cat seemed to calm down and approached him. 

It began to gently paw at him, causing Nicolas to pick it up– sparing a glance at the woman as if saying, ‘Go ahead, pet it’.

   Gaze lingered unto his facade, decidedly rough but not completely unkind, though it would be fair to mention that she was the type of person that was firmly attuned to the belief that animals were a good judge of character. A warmth raced through her neck, spreading through her cheeks before she whispered a sheepish expression of gratitude.

   Her hand lingered close to the feline, seeking permission to touch it, and after some fidgeting the cat accepted with a tiny bump of the nose to her open palm. The young woman started with a chin scratch before moving to focus on the area between the ears. She let the tension roll from her shoulders, trying to provide enough proof to the dubious cat that she meant it no harm.

   Only when a content purr came forth, she moved to skim her fingertips across the cat’s paw, taking on a comically intense look; brows knit, lips pursed, and eyes working to adjust to the low light the alley provided. She murmured a soft reassurance before swiftly plucking a small spine from the soft pad, holding the guilty spike between her thumb and pointer finger to show the man.

          † ›› The hot springs were, surprisingly, less chaotic than the other locations available within the festival’s ring. Naturally, he carried an appearance of apathy; occasionally, irritated features would make themselves known upon observing nearly any being who came within a close distance to him. Countenance didn’t differ from his usual one, however, rosy cheeks were a contradictory embellishment to a look of stoicism. 

           Perhaps due to an abundance of life experience, other than his life in the order, he remained unaware of the effects that alcohol possessed upon immersing oneself in a hot spring. After all, his regeneration had always worked in his favor in this aspect. The exorcist, naturally, had partaken in a “few” drinks upon placing himself in such an environment. Quite frankly, it didn’t make him anymore pleasant. Therefore, the effects that t he springs had on him were far from soothing. 

           A short-lived experience, he lifted himself up from the springs. Clearly, due to a sour disposition, it was time to leave- 

   ❝Kanda…?❞ Sera was hit by a wave of terror at the sight of his unmoving frame, drowning her for a second in absolute shock, before reflexes kicked in and she kneeled down beside him. ❝Kanda!❞ Gentle fingers brushed his sopping hair from his forehead, carefully cupping a hand to his cheek. No response.

   Her hands were moving before she knew what she was doing, searching for a pulse or the steady beat of his heart, trying to recall what methods they had used to resuscitate her time after time in the labs. ❝Please,❞ she whispered, two fingers finding his neck, ❝Please, please, please be okay…❞

   Something fluttered beneath her fingertips. She gasped. An ear pressed against the swordsman’s upper torso, closing her eyes to concentrate. A heartbeat; faint, but present. Determination renewed, she tilted his head back to clear the airway but even then his chest remained too still.

   The shaman knew she didn’t have the same equipment the doctors did but she had heard of the alternative. She honestly did not, even for a fraction of a second, entertain the idea of what misunderstandings would arise if she were to do what she was about to do, oblivious to the possible collateral damage. Admittedly everything was still so fragile between them but she couldn’t allow herself to let him die like this.

   A deep breath and she placed her lips over his, praying she was doing the right thing.

    He doesn’t know how to express a lot of human feelings, but he recognizes the look on her face as hurt. Not the same, physical kind of hurt.It does spark a distant, inkling of what may be a memory. Right now, he sees someone much like a demi-hollow. In a way, this is how most of them react when they realize their death. Their inevitable descent into becoming Hollow, manifesting into a monster. Anguished and distraught with red eyes and bloody hands. Her following words just confirm the look of guilt and hurt. It makes sense this girl would be afraid for people to know, and he thinks it isn’t a problem. This soft girl has never been the type to take pride in a form like that. She’s not ready to use it to her advantage. She acts like it’s all new to her, so it can’t be that she’s had it all this time.

    “Accept it,” he says, tone callous and succinct. To her, it may sound like he’s calling her something awful and disgusting. For a man whom had lived as a monster for longer than she has, he doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with it. He’s proud of himself. “Don’t cry and give me that. If it’s what you are, live with it.” If he lost his humanity and he’s still here, then she can realize there’s nothing wrong with having to live with that side of her. When she begins to explain what happened, he falls silent and pays attention. If only to understand how the innocent girl he knew could turn into that great, carnivorous monster he’d been so eager to fight. 

    Varnani. The name of the monster brings a prickle of feral excitement to his chest. But at the same time, it’s just strange to consider. He just can’t imagine Sera becoming the beast he witnessed feasting on corpses, but it’s obvious they aren’t the same. They just have to share a body, so she’s like a host. Glancing at the tattoo on her face, he takes in her short explanation. The furious confusion has started to falter and fade away. It sounds just like something she would do; selfless enough to take on something she doesn’t want, if it means helping out someone else. Typical for her. She always went out of her way to help him and give him gifts, even when he did nothing to deserve them.

  “Can you control it?”

    His tail slowly settles behind his hind legs, twitching as the girl steps closer. He wouldn’t have noticed right away, but now he can sense how different her energy is. Her scent is different, but mostly bloody right now. Now that he knows what she’s trying to contain, he can’t help but take notice and view her differently. 

   His words came blunt, yet they sliced like a blade, sharp enough to motivate to some initiative. It cut deep but maybe she was meant to use her power and brandish it to her advantage as he likely had. She had to admit that there was a point to what he advised but without comrades to fight for, a cause, a purpose… What good would it be to accept that part of herself?

   Death was the only cure but achieving that within the boundaries of the city was a release she wasn’t allowed. She refused to let Varnani reign over her instincts like a bloodthirsty tyrant yet she allowed her to continue to feed upon discarded corpses. If she was forced to live, Sera would need to sacrifice a few for the good of many.

「Mmm… Counterfeit virtue. Even then makes you quite the hypocrite, doesn’t it, Seraphita?」

   Nausea gripped at the shaman, but she fought against its perils, wrestling for stability and inner peace. For what she had done, she had her reasons, but that didn’t make her feel any less guilty. She couldn’t hide her own horror; her face an open book.

   A sob tightened her throat and blood stained lips pressed tightly, hoping to prevent the slightest sound of weakness to one again drip from its ledger. She was on the pathway to meet her ruin, sliding fast, without any breaks to save her from the fall, choking with the highest form of shame and self inflicted hatred.

   With her decision she had accepted the role to undergo metamorphosis from the child abandoned by humanity to a soldier prodded to the edge of savagery. All to help guarantee her fallen comrades would not have fought for nothing. But she had been unsuccessful at even that, recalling the flames licking at her skin as she burned alive in the HAARP facility. Failure plagued her heart.

   ❝—To an extent…❞ She said with dismay in her eyes, and only realized after the confession tumbled from her lips that she sounded like a child still, never like the warrior she was meant to embrace. Never would she be anything more than a prisoned waif crying out for a savior that would never come. ❝Control ebbs and flows between the two of us. If she’s satiated, she’ll allow me full command but…❞ Something in her voice was fraying; tight but tearing. ❝When hunting, I fail to meet her standards so she takes over.❞

   Talking about it was like breathing life into nightmares, making her frightfully aware of the reality of the relationship between the asura and her role as host. Though the undisclosed specifics had been weighing on her soul for some time, she was grateful for the topic change. 

           He would shrug it off for now.

           Observing timid, subtle actions, brows raised ever so slightly. There was something apologetic about her words, yet she refrained from offering any unnecessary apologies. Ever so briefly, nostalgia was triggered as he remembered a time where apologies were rather abundant. He recognized that she would settle with watching others dance, but never would she inconvenience another by pursuing her own, small desires. 

           He recognized the small compromise she had made- refraining from apologizing to him. While the male was growing accustomed to making compromises of his own, his personality made it rather difficult to do so naturally or with ease. 

   The rosy tint on her cheeks only spread once she heard the man’s incredulous tone, embarrassed that her selfish desires hadn’t been repressed quickly enough to not be caught. As he tugged, lips parted in an attempt to regain that lost surge of breath, only letting out a small squeak. Nonetheless, she followed him, feet clumsily shuffling on the ground, almost as if they’ve been dismantled, needing one extra set of steps to keep up with his longer strides. With his back turned to her, grey eyes hyper focused on her source of disquiet, mystified on how a stranger’s calloused grip filled her with such a sense of being complete.

   Tiny fingers soon relaxed into his hold. To cut through the middle of a sea of strangers would normally make her feel vulnerable, but she reveled in the security and warmth her unpremeditated dance partner brought her. Occurrences like this weren’t likely to tumble past her again any time soon. Was this how princesses felt when they first meet their prince? It sent her heart drumming a little faster at the thought.

           †›› The phone alarm briefly rung, only to be stopped by fumbling fingers. The exorcist didn’t normally set alarms for himself; he always woke up on his own at a uniform time. However, this alarm was set with a specific occasion in mind. The date only occurred once every four years; it was formerly important, but the same might not have held true in current circumstances. Still, he would hesitantly send a short, straightforward message at the hour of 12:00 am. 

   Fingers quickly fumbled and latched onto her phone under her pillow, thumb swiping right to read the contents of the message. She had a birthday? For a moment, all she could feel was surprise; and then her hands were quickly raised to hover in front of her face to hide the warm blush on her cheeks. The details suddenly didn’t matter. She had forgotten but he remembered. After everything that had happened between them, still he made the effort to recall the date for her and wish her well. So she smiled into her pale pink phone case, indulgent and pleased and shy and elated. He made her feel so much.

   ❝Oh Kanda…❞ Spoken quietly, but heavy with a meaning still unknown to her. For as much as she wanted him to forget her, to have him move on before she could hurt him again; there was an equally vast part of her that wanted to remember him. Every single memory between them. ❝I don’t deserve you…❞

   A melancholy latched to the last four words, despite her aim, and a smile inundated by hopelessness found its way onto her pink lips. Whatever they were, she felt they belonged together but she couldn’t allow herself to be selfish. Would things be able to work out despite her circumstances? Was she good or bad for him?

   Small form illuminated only by the blue white glow of the phone, finally she typed out a simple thank you with a happy emoticon, not sure what else she should say when too many words wanted to spill out. Slipping her phone back in its place, she forced herself to breath deep and slow, dark lashes fluttering closed, eventually drifting into a decent state of slumber. No candles to blow out, she still had one wish.

[ ✠ ] - reiner had never been one for complex cuisine. perhaps it was the military training, or perhaps it was simply his inherent inhumanity, but anything more than the simplest, meat-and-potatoes type of dish simply didn’t appeal to him. in a way, sweets fell into this as well; though he was willing to indulge himself on occasion, it was mostly at the behest of another, a peer or some other youth that had offered him a treat of some form whom he simply couldn’t turn away.

after all, he may as well give them some comfort before he brings them all to an end-

even still, the blackened hunks of what he assumes to be one such form of treat that he sees before him seems entirely unappealing even by normal standards. the young woman offering him one of these creations seemed quite eager to offer him one, too, considering how she’d approached him so wantonly despite his militaristic apparel - he never did throw out the old jacket; it was comforting in more ways than one. 

   Currently, a dozen cookies sat dejected on her lap. Crumbled and burnt on the sides, the pastries had seen heat and flame like no other. It certainly was not meant for human consumption. It was kept in for too long until its sides had withered to something more like crumbled charcoal. Literally the scent of failure clung to her, the shaman was confident enough to know that even her hair and clothes most likely smelled like smoke. Dark brows upturn helplessly as her face crumpled. Maybe they didn’t taste as bad as they looked?

   The occasional flashbacks she experienced became a sacred thing to Sera, windows to the other life she lived when she first arrived. Unfortunately the mere memory of the cafe she ran was not magic, hardly powerful enough to change her current affinity in the kitchen. Yet despite the disaster, she’ll continue striving to pick up remnants of what she once knew.

   A pause fell as she dared to lift her head, peering up to see a large man, who she would guess would have a matching appetite, walking around. She hopped up from the bench she was sitting at and moved to stand before him as she extended the tray to him asking if he wanted to sample them.

   But his response had caused a small sigh to slip from her mouth, her smile two parts rueful and one part discontentment with herself.

      ♛ ⋯ ﹞”Of course it is powerful, this set of armor was constructed by the best smith in ALL of Nohr!” His heart swelled with pride, a glint in his brown hues to show the girl that he was more then what meets the eye. But the next part made Xander scoff a little, shaking his head as he felt too old now to think about silly little books about happy love stories. “You’re talking about a children’s fairy tale, but I can promise you I’m nothing of the sort.” The prince took a step back once he felt her touch ( which was surprising with his armor still on), cheeks warm from the admiration he saw from her face.

   Sera had been bred on fairytales, stories of princes and princesses and wish granting fish. It was one of the few enjoyable things she had been allowed to indulge in her captivity, a method to keep her complacent while the life was drained out of her to help rectify for the sins of humanity. But as disaster had struck her reality, coping with the fact that she would be hard pressed to find a real life happy ending had been challenging. The idea of coming across an actual knight had delighted her inner childish whims but she had been too quick to judge.  

   ❝I suppose I believe that there’s no use in being needlessly cold to people I haven’t even gotten to know yet. We could all use kindness… Maybe that one person I’m friendly towards will find some small comfort in it. It’s the least I can do…❞

   She made a small gasp and light returned to her grey eyes.

She was kind. At least she seemed to be, based on his previously vague observations and her seemingly sincere attempts to apologize now. Sadly, it did not matter much the depth of her concern, for she was still very much a woman and he was very much uncomfortable. And touching. She kept touching him! For the flowers, he knew, though he felt himself growing sick with every feather light brush of her hands. 

He had to reply. He had to say something to save his remaining dignity–

“I-I. Am more sturdy… than that.” He began, his voice quaking in the manner that bothered him the most. “Er. I am… fine.” Was he? He would scoot away from her, recollecting himself before, quite rigidly, standing to his feet.

   There was something… interesting about Lon’qu’s reaction. Not in a necessarily bad manner but she had never been able to stop herself from being curious about certain things, trailing after little bits and pieces of life that diverged from what she was used to. Living in isolation for so long had her struggling to catch up with certain social cues but she had to admit she was receiving mixed messages. Was he… unnerved by her? Did she wrong him in some way she wasn’t aware of? Maybe she overstepped boundaries by giving him a present…

   Her hand hovered, albeit hesitantly, over his proffered palm, a quiet trust gifted by the compulsion of the current circumstance, but reason rung in her ears telling her that maybe touching him again was not the best course of action. Especially considering it was what seemingly had sparked this in the first place. Biting her lip, quickly she retracted her hand.

   ❝Um… Please, don’t worry! I-I’ve got it.❞

   She fumbled to her feet, leaving behind the remnants of the demolished bouquets to sprinkle upon their shoes as what had gathered in her skirt fell to the floor. The “I’m fine” stung more than it should because it was clear he wasn’t, but how much was she allowed to pry?

   A sudden anxiety enveloped her whole, making her timid heart hammer faster against her chest, trying to grasp at a response that would offer even the slightest bit of help.

   ❝Um- It’s… alright to say you’re not okay… ❞ As she started, the burn in her throat only intensified. ❝I… It doesn’t make you weak to tell others the truth… In fact, I think… In a way- It’s a mark of bravery. Strength. That is—! If I hurt you somehow… just now or in the past… If I did anything to make you uncomfortable…❞

   Lips parted briefly, words gone, at realizing that this was probably making him uncomfortable. Grey eyes shut tight at her own foolishness. 

   Did everyone here wear such smiles on their face regardless of the twisted fate they were given in this city? Only Marx had wondered what sort of fantasy this girl lived in to be this cheerful. “Odd is a word I suppose I’d use.” The prince lifted his hand to look at is own attire compared to hers, the set of armor covering from head to toe.

   ❝It’s powerful looking armor… A bit formidable… You remind me of an illustration I saw in a book once actually! Maybe a knight? Or a king?❞ A moment and her hand withdrew, a soft smile finding a place on her features again. ❝Am I close...?❞