bearbones ☾

There was a big secret deep inside the teenage boy, and it was something that Ahsoka was quite willing to keep a secret. His family (prior to his weird adoption/apprenticeship/kidnapping-but-not) had never really celebrated Halloween. Ahsoka himself had no clue as to what was going on. Being on the road meant there wasn't a whole lot of time meant for celebration, and anyways - his mentor had never been much of a celebratory man aside from birthdays and important achievements Ahsoka had made in the fencing department. So, he'd heard about the decorating, and he figured that maybe he'd be able to find a thing or two out about it.

So, Ahsoka was definitely confused about the haunted house thing. He couldn't quite figure out if this whole thing was considered even legal (at least, in his eyes). It just seemed like a heart attack waiting to happen. Still.. there was a bunch of plastic bags labelled "spider webs" that Ahsoka just couldn't stop wondering about. Were spider webs a big thing? Probably, considering that everyone around him seemed to want to make the house look dirtier than it once was. Popping open a bag, the boy's eyes widened as he realized it was just.. cotton. Not actual spider webbing.

He probably should've seen that coming, but he grabbed a wad anyways, stretching it experimentally as he found the nearest bush. It would clump, and sometimes it would just not stick to the bush, but Ahsoka was determined, dammit. This was his decor, and he would definitely be able to get it figured out. "What kind of stuff do you want people doing at the house, Cat?" Ahsoka asked, peeling bits of fluff off his fingers and peering at the surrounding area, trying to figure out the best places to accent with spiderweb.

Curiosity lead the boy into the library, the smell of old books and strange rustling leading him closer and closer in. As he found the source, he was first caught aback by the mess that was surrounding the woman. As he peered at the books, he realized that she had to be organizing. Well, someone was bored.

Damien contemplated switching one of the books on the shelf (maybe a D for an S), but then stopped in the middle of his uninspired endeavor to stare at the books again. "There's too many books." Damien said decidedly to Maddy, crossing his arms and staring at the shelves. Damien could read, but he sure wasn't a read-er. He had neither the patience or the sitting still capacity to read anything aside from short, energetic books that hopefully had cool drawings in it.

"How can anyone read these in one lifetime?" He tapped the spine of a book, wrinkling his nose. A whole life spent just.. reading. That was ridiculous. There was so much to be done, so much to do, and Damien couldn't even imagine sitting next to a fire reading a book while the whole world was progressively cooling and cooling.

she was growing numb to it, to all of it. the blood, the gore, the death, the grief. she'd lost enough people that at some point, it just stopped hurting. at some point, she found herself in black, standing in front of a grave, features flat and tired. tired of the loss, of the bloodshed, tired of it all. she and dominik hadn't been particularly close, but she liked the eldest (at least, for the majority of the time she'd known them) member of the family. he had a brooding sort of charm that was easy to digest, less straightforward and youthful then his brothers. losing him, losing anyone these days, it took a toll on the brunette. left her tired and empty feeling, like a glass that had been dumped out.

she didn't speak, she couldn't think of much to say anyways, comfort had never been her strong suit. she stood near the middle, but midway through the service made her way to the front to put her hand on alfie's shoulder in a silent sort of i'm here for you before standing quietly near him. she didn't know how to fix this, how to help the man she'd grown to care about over the last few months, but she hoped she could offer some sort of solace by way of presence.

LIES A THOUSAND HORRIFYING MEMORIES | | |

Wow, russian food must taste like crap normally; Salem hadn't the faintest idea that Olga was making all of it up, mainly because he never paid attention in school and his family wasn't Russian. He was pretty sure he was like- a mix of like, italian and spanish? Probably some other European bloodlines mixed in there too. He should've paid more attention when his mother told him about his ancestors.

"Don't be fucking rude, Addy." Salem said, reaching over to grab the soggy yet somehow burnt banana-esq chip thing. Yeah he had no idea what Olga was going for when she made these, but he happily tossed one in his mouth and immediately wished he hadn't. He coughed with his mouth still sealed shut once, twice, and then swallowed the disgusting mush. Feeling vaguely sick, he gave a thumbs-up to Olga.

"Yeah sure, can you grab me something from the bar?" Salem said, glancing at Jaque. If he wanted to watch and not participate he could at least make himself useful, and frankly Salem needed something to wash the taste of Olga's attempted hospitality down.

He went off the P of Pend and put down an I and E. It was pretty bad, but Salem was still feeling the aftershocks of the banana chip and he'd stick by that story for the rest of the day.