TIMEWARP ;; FIESTA !!

[MARKO !]

[align=center][div style="width: 45%; text-align: justify; font-size: 11pt; letter-spacing: -1px; font-family: verdana;"]♦ — as the days closed in on the twenty-sixth, san creado began to buzz with excitement. after all, it was the right time for celebration; the twenty-sixth happened to be the full moon. considering the rather supernatural population of san creado (at least, the parts of the population that mattered), marko was absolutely beyond ready. in fact, he was so ready that he couldn't just wait until the full moon.

so, plans. the undertaker was chock-full of plans, everything from michael's fate to where exactly he'd fall asleep in the coming days; whether he went through with them was always up for debate, but he was at least, er, planning on following through. concerning his plans for the full moon, well, he was already going through with them, knocking out his plan to follow through with his plan. it was strange, how those sorts of things worked, really. marko was at the pineapple, a rare occurrance, but he was there for a very important purpose.

ping-ping-ping-ping-ping. the sound of a spraypaint can being shaken was something that most would agree could probably be te perfect sound. marko shook the can for much longer than necessary because of that, and shook it again after his test-image of a skull against the outside of the pineapple. it was stark white against the darkened, dirty yellow, and frankly, it looked absolutely amazing.

after a second, he spraypainted what he was actually planning on painting: the word "fiesta" in big bubble letters.

marko grinned at his work, then turned to get the rest of the area set up. a foldable table was laid out, then covered in bingo cards and rewards cards, along with a quickly-made sign that explained to, like, take them. he also set one up with food and drinks (provided in a possibly not legal way by the minimart, who possibly didn't know that they were giving out the snacks), just in case people decided that the pineapple would be the main hangout place for the day. gosh, it would be so fun!

"boys and girls!! san creado-ans! the fiesta has begun, it's time to party all night, every night!!" he hollered, laughing loudly as he cracked open a blood soda.

indeed, it was time for the festivities.

//check the guide in the ooc board for more details on how exactly this works!! (also this thread counts for the graffiti a wall bingo slot and the pineapple rewards card slot)

[miss ririchiyo]

Track

[alexander]

[div style="width: 45%; margin: auto; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11px; line-height: 110%; text-align: justify"]The full moon was a big deal in San Creado. Most of the town's residents didn't turn into a wolf when it came, but it still sent a buzz through the veins of any supernatural creature. Humans could feel it too, if they tried hard enough. The fiesta was starting four days early, but it was still rather exciting. Personally, Alexander loved all the things that popped up the week of the full moon. They were sure blood moons and eclipses would be exciting, too. The citizens of San Creado had a lot in store for them.

The vampire is sitting at the card table, pretending to pay attention to who took a card, occasionally glancing at the notepad by their arm that stated write your name if you take a card. Not many people had stopped by, but they were fully expecting all the cards to be gone by the time this was done. Marko worked hard on this, and Alex would make sure at least Rialto and Catheryn played along.

They glance back at the young blood, wrinkling their nose at the sight of Marko's poorly done skull. He couldn't have done something a little more sightly? This pineapple was their main tourist attraction. Huffing, Alexander gets to their feet, grabbing a spraypaint bottle of their own on their way to the Undertaker's side. "We're gonna lose food if you make the pineapple ugly." They fuss, shoving at Marko's shoulder, playfully sticking their tongue out. They shake their own bottle, thinking of their own design, mind going back to their childhood, full of defacing property without the help of spraypaint.

Alex starts to spray flowers around Marko's skull, purple in color. They weren't much of an artist, but it didn't look too bad.

[Rialto]

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For the most part Rialto had little to no concept of time, discounting his internal clock going off the moment it was safe to step outside; dates, he was hopeless with. His own birthday? Long forgotten. Maybe it was somewhere in there, if he took the time to dig around and flip through a calendar to get his memory caches stirred up like a shaken snow globe enough. Oh, funny: if he took the time. Time was a human concept that lazy vampires, who had no inclination to get up and do anything productive ever, had nothing to do with.

So he'll admit there was a different note that shivered in the air as a certain twenty-sixth inched closer, slowing down and speeding up at the same time; like, collectively, the entire population of San Creado was on the very tips of their toes, holding their breaths. A louder edge to the volume of each night, the chatter and buzz just a touch more hysterical, the ominous silences during the day more pronounced. San Creado was waiting.

"Cheers, Monsieur Marko," Rialto drawled, having already snatched up his cards - after taking an incredibly annoying five minutes at the front of the line to flick through both piles and grab the cards at the very bottom, just to pick the unwrinkled ones - and shoved them into the back of his... whatever you called those pants. Let's just say they're sweats. Alex had already abandoned their post, so Rialto took the initiative to pen a mature kat is dum on the notepad where his name should've went before going for two cans. One blood soda, the other paint. Don't even play with him, he could draw the most awe-inspiring mockery of Catheryn any of them had ever seen. At any rate this night was going to end with him accidentally drinking from the wrong can. "Add green," he said to Alex, and tossed them the spraypaint.

[ graffiti a wall 1/3 !!!!! ]

© MADI

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[marissa]

[align=center][div style="text-align: justify; width: 45%; font-family: arial; font-size: 8pt; color:black"]It was like she was peering into a mirror that was not her own. No, instead, it was Cat's, except her reflection returned with a tragic fashion sense. But it was tragic in a way that Marissa respected, because as much as she said she didn't give a shit, even the werewolf knew that she couldn't care so little about her appearance. This person possessed some extreme level of either confidence, indifference, or both. Sometimes, a thing Marissa hated as a werewolf was how amplified her sense of smell was. If reflections were capable of having specific scents, this one definitely had a distinctive odor that Marissa pinned as almost garbage. That, combined with his trashy sweatpants, made him actual garbage. It was one thing to literally be rotting away by the second, which obviously produced unique stenches, but this guy... Was he okay?

Perhaps the majority of people would've been pissed at a guy taking five whole minutes just to select two cards, but Mari was taking the opportunity to stare dead at him (or at least his back), completely unblinking. Even when he turned against his heels to walk away, her dark brown eyes followed him for a second before she stepped forward. Now that she was in front of the notepad, she reached for the pen and grasped it between her fingers. She scanned the names inscribed, stopping when she read the last one: kat is dum. A part of Mari wanted to take the pen and cross through it, while the other half of her was childish enough to correct the spelling mistakes. The most logical part of Marissa made her lower her hand down and quickly scribble her own message in small but neat handwriting. Please send me money on Venmo. After jotting her username down, Marissa set the pen down and grabbed two cards, slipping them into the pocket of her bomber jacket. 

By one side of the pineapple (if you could even call it that), she could see some people she recognized: Marko, Alex, and the trashy version of Cat. Marissa grabbed a spare can of purple spraypaint and headed over. She stood a little distance away, looking at the freshly painted art on the pineapple. Her brows furrowed and her head tilted slightly at the drawing of the skull and flowers. "I don't know if that'll be enough to balance the edge."

[miss ririchiyo]

MALE
18 Y/O
WERECAT
SAN CREADO
- MEMBER
TAGS

//retro to capture
"Well, well. Don't you guys look like a bunch of party-poopers?" Came the chippy purr of the werecat as he walked over, his bodysuit tight against his skin as always. Toxic green hues watched as the others picked up spray paint cans, but Chat never bothered to move to grab one. Besides, he had better things to do. Like.. Make fun of everyone here, or poke flirty jokes at them. Yeah, that was a better choice.

"You're being annoying again, Chat." Adrien's voice rang in the cat-like human's head, making him frown outwardly. "Why don't you come out and socialize then?" Chat responded, rolling his eyes at himself. It didn't take long for the blonde to nearly fall over before Adrien took to the main pillar, cracking his neck.

"Alright, since kitty is being a bit useless right now, I'll help. Name's Adrien, by the way. If you haven't met me." Adrien chirped out, his black tail swishing side to side, flicking against his thick as he lifted up a spray can.

[CATHERYN]

In perhaps the antithesis to Rialto, no matter how physically similar they are, Catheryn takes about two seconds at the table. It would've been less, but she'd seen the clipboard with a request for them to pen their names, and an innate curiosity had led her to stop to read what's already been written. She completely ignores the cards in favor of picking up the pen and, in the elegant script she hadn't yet lost in the hundred years she's been alive, writes will pay $10 if you kill Rialto. Satisfied with that, Catheryn leans to pick up one of the spray paint cans before making her way to the back of the Pineapple, where everyone is seemingly gathered.

"Heathens, the lot of you," she says, once she sees the new atrocities adorning the walls of an already unsalvageable fruit. Catheryn raises a single eyebrow at Rialto's messy approximation of, what she assumes is, a caricature of her, though makes no move to paint over it. Everything they do tonight will be gone by morning, covered by fresh swathes of colour, such is the nature of San Creado, the vibe of which echoes within the Pineapple, amplified by what Catheryn assumes is years of history.

In other news, she's only here today because of the full moon. It's a special time for all of them, if in different ways. On any other night, she'd probably either be hanging out in her office, or wandering the streets for a stroll. Today, however, she's in the Pineapple, and something tells Catheryn that she's going to regret being here, one way or another. "Try to be more tasteful," she suggests.

[pineapple 1/3]
[graffiti a wall 1/3]

[alexander]

[table][tr][td][div style="width: 70px; height:70px; background-image:url(https://i.imgbox.com/W8N8gUDb.png); background-size: cover; background-position: top;"][/td][td][div style="width: 100px; text-align: center; font-family: arial; font-size: 7pt; color: #ff0000; line-height: 100%; padding-top: 6px; padding-left: 6px; opacity: 0.75; text-transform: lowercase;"]my brother's friends explain to me, with breathless words and bloody knees; it's a black eyed trust, respect the pain.

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Alexander is quiet even as people start to approach, surprisingly focused on the horribly drawn flower they had painted next to Marko's skull. They break out of it when the can Rialto had thrown at them hits their arm, turning the petal of a flower to a jagged line. They hiss and whip around to face the vampire, teeth bared in annoyance. "Listen, artiste, you could have just handed me the can." They growl, picking up their abandoned spray paint and throwing it towards the man, aiming for his head. They pick up the green and continue to paint, heeding Rialto's advice despite their earlier irritation.

When they finish, they step back, admiring their work. A few very shaky flowers, painted over old tags and obviously worse paintings than theirs. Alexander steps back to admire their work, allowing space for the others to come in and create their own pieces. They go back to their station at the table, sliding the notepad closer and frowning when they see that exactly zero of the people that had arrived had actually written down their names.

- kat is dum
- Please send me money on Venmo.
- will pay $10 if you kill Rialto.

Little shits. This ruined their whole aesthetic. Alexander regrets laying a pen out - now there was no way to erase what the others had written down, and it took too much work and energy to start a new page. They would just have to live with this. They sigh loudly, expecting attention from one of the five people there. They lift their eyes to Adrien's face, raising a brow when he talked about his persona. There were supernatural creatures living in San Creado; it wasn't hard to believe there were two people inside the boy's body. "Adrien! Welcome to the party, filled with absolutely no party poopers. Please, take a card. Get in touch with your artistic side." They gesture to the pineapple and the line of spray cans, smile sharp.

&& 2/3 graffiti a wall, 2/3 pineapple

[Rialto]

[table][tr][td][div style="width: 70px; height:70px; background-image:url(https://i.imgbox.com/4XVwGFUK.png); background-size: cover; background-position: top;"][/td][td][div style="width: 100px; text-align: center; font-family: arial; font-size: 7pt; color: #8A8A8A; line-height: 100%; padding-top: 5px; padding-left: 10px; opacity: 0.75; text-transform: lowercase"]Secrets on Broadway to the freeway, you're a keeper of crimes; Fear no conviction, grapes of wrath can only sweeten your wine

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Maybe any other utterly disgusting Ferris wheel-residing couch potato would be so numbed to the bitter touch of scorn that they wouldn't notice a long, scorching stare directed at their nasty sweats, but Rialto was the utterly... That was a sentence that didn't benefit anyone from being finished.

He cracked the blood soda open against his thigh, one-handed - one of his only talents, Catheryn might say - and slowly turned to angle a very pleasant smile over at Mari. Not while she had been watching his back, but once she approached the pineapple with her own can of mass destruction, and mostly in agreement. 'Patience,' he said, sagely, 'is its own art.' That was before his eyes almost bugged out from holding in a wheeze at Alex failing to comprehend Rialto's kind-of warning, and he mercilessly trashed the wise facade to drawl, 'Sounds like what a loser who failed to catch it would say.' Rialto didn't even restrain his smug grin from spreading, and ducked under the flying can, where it then landed in the dirt and rolled into a little ghoul's bandaged foot. He took the time to glance down at his blood soda, checking that none had spilled. 'I fixed the flower for you. Now it has personality.'

As the greats had never said: to an artist, everything was a canvas. The admittedly very ugly big pineapple, for paint. Alex's notepad (well, they knew Rialto's handwriting/inability to spell - you didn't go fifty years together and fail at least three heist attempts because Rialto's secret message couldn't be deciphered without committing that sort of thing to memory), for Rialto's brilliance. Adrien's... Never mind, the canvas allegory wasn't going to work. The switch occurring right before them was certainly something, a shock seeming to go through the boy's spine before he straightened up with eyes distinctly different. 'I know Adrien, but not the kitty,' Rialto commented, as an unsubtle prompt for elaboration. He gave the boy a nice little fanged smile to greet him; you know, social convention. 'Also, one caveat.' He gestured in Cat's direction with his soda. 'We've found a party pooper.'

The surrounding energy trickled into him, down to his fingertips; the vampire flexed his hands and figured that, along with accidentally drinking his spray paint, there was probably going to be some point he splashed his soda itself on the pineapple. Some things might as well happen.

[ graffiti a wall 2/3 ]