The faint jingle of the fallen bell could be heard across the veil, stirring the one who had lost the ornament so long ago. A remnant of the celebrations and the horrors alongside it, the bell must have torn off during its owner's final struggle. Decades passed, then centuries, until the little bell was forgotten in the frozen landscape, its tarnished gleam buried beneath thousands of winter snowstorms.

    Foreign touch disturbed the archaic bell, stringing it along with modern cousins. Although pointedly distinct from the other bells, larger in size and silver in color, the golden bell swayed and tittered in the wind all the same. Fate broke it from its threads once more, discarding it at the feet of a curious creature.

    Scooping the bell up into his paws, however, was a tragic mistake. Tragic for its old owner, at least.

    A sharp burning gripped the spirit's chest, piercing all the way through his being until the sensation was unbearable. The bell's song beckoned him, dragging him -- he followed, a loyal mutt to the master's whistle. One set of claws outstretched and reached for escape, groping the air for something to grasp onto before sinking deep into the powdery cold surface. A second paw followed, similarly scratching at the snow for leverage as the specter wrenched himself from his grave; a scrawny beast shrouded in motley garb. The void that so familiarly engulfed him was replaced by the harsh light and shadows, abruptly stripped away and leaving him blind. His head bent towards the heavens above, and through a porcelain face, he breathlessly gasped. Fresh air -- the mangy canine sputtered behind the pristine mask thankfully still secured around his face, collapsing into the snow with all the grace of a newborn fawn.

    He wasn't quite dead, evident by his slight panting, but he wasn't alive either. No heartbeat guided his movements as he regained himself, pushing himself to confront the one who summoned him. A darkened eye glared daggers underneath his mask and a sharpened dirk was whisked out from its sheath on his belt, its blade pointed at the strange feline's throat. The anger obscuring his vision subsided after a moment and the knife is stowed away. His attention abandoned the jaguar's face, moving to admire his surroundings in silent awe.

    "I must've missed a lot, haven't I?" the outlandishly-dressed coyote murmured to himself, plopping himself back on bony haunches with a chorus of jingling emphasizing his shift. In his stillness, one could gain a good look at him... or rather, his costume. Red and violet lined with gold stood glaringly out against the tundra scenery. The only features free from the faded cloth -- two battered ears and a bristly tail -- were a mousy brown. The peculiar entity seemed to forget entirely about Damianos, wagging his scruffy tail in childlike glee as he absorbed every inch of the living world he found himself in once again.

"Wow, oh man. There's a whole buncha people over here, isn't there?" Myhri muses as he pads up, probably the loudest of the bunch- against Indie, maybe not, but there would be a lot to say. Myhri had a shiteating grin on his face again, the rottsky's mouth spread wide as his glasses shined light back. His eyes flicked from the weird bell, to Sar, then back to Damian who looked utterly confused. He hadn't heard what Indie or Kli said yet, so he scooched closer to Dami, putting on a defensive look.

"Do you have any idea whats going on either?" He said to Dami quietly, still looking at the situation at which people kept piling up. He looked at the bell again, frowning.

code by spacexual