10-16-2019, 10:18 PM
With every evening's fall, and subsequent morning's wake, Hallowe'en drew nearer. The hound never cared much for the special day, and rarely took part in any festivities as a result of his disfavour. Gummies, jujubes, and chocolate would just rot his teeth, so he did his best to stray from them - the latter being lethal if ingested for his species, anyways. Spooky films were already out of the question, for his poorly functioning eyes utterly refused to register screens or projected videos. Apple-bobbing barrels were cesspools of bacteria and saliva. Last Hallowe'en he did find time to put together a costume, though its quality rivaled that of freshly expelled phlegm and shit due to the bare-minimum effort that was put into its creation. To simply put it, Leroy did not give a damn about a kid's holiday. Pumpkin spice fell underneath the 'overrated as all hell' category, and for a celebration based around giving people the heebie jeebies, not a single aspect of it was frightening.
As of now, festive décor had already begun arising in the town's many nooks and crannies. Cardboard cutouts of ghosts and (hopefully) artificial skeletons became everyday observations, with witch hats and plastic body parts almost as commonplace. Yet no decoration was as prolific as the dignified Jack o'lantern. Practically the icon of Hallowe'en, carved pumpkins and gourds found homes near every home in the territory. The majority of them followed the basic Jack o'lantern formula: two eyes, and a toothy expression. Some, however, were a tad more interesting than that, wearing patterns of popular horror characters as well as other iconic figures. They always marveled him, the fashioned pumpkins did. In spite of the aversion he had towards the holiday associated with them, the Proxy couldn't help but gawk in awe each time an illuminated fruit crossed his wayward path. Even the cliché ones managed to steal his attention away from other affairs. Not because of the artistic aura they seemed to emanate. But because of envy. In the cur's point of view, he completely lacked the creativity and patience that carving pumpkin required of someone. Hell, he probably couldn't be trusted to merely handle a knife on his own in this current state.
Wormwood's call wasn't enough to grab hold of his attention span. The Guardsman seemed to find joy in hosting daily minigames or training sessions or whatnot, which the hound barely ever attended. Rather, it was the scent of fresh pumpkin that drew him to the scene. The male's ocular organs were failing, leaving him with a permanent blurred vision; but his nose still worked, despite it running wet with snot most of the time. His movement comes to a halt when the Lion is scarcely a few footfalls away. Dipping his noggin in a subtle bow, Tanglewood's second in command mouths a keen "Wormwood" in greeting, ere shifting his hazy glance in the harvested crops' direction. Stinging orange was the colour that painted the bulbous produce. He may be cursed with mild colourblindness, but he could still register the pumpkins' florescence.
A jack o'lantern of his own would be a nice way to leave his mark on the world, he imagined. A nod is shot in Wormwood's way, and the hound is off, helping himself to a handful of tools and a thickset pumpkin. The guts were as disgusting as he'd imagine they'd be - having not carved one before, the canine's process of crafting a jack o'lantern was fairly messy. Once the entrails were out of the picture, Leroy pointed a puzzled look at the plant he claimed, flummoxed as to what came next.
Right. The design.
Knifework wasn't his strong suit - when it came to blades, he preferred hacking and slashing in a crazed frenzy over delicate cuts done performed with the utmost care - though he was proud of his creation. A pumpkin, spruced up by a sloppily written HI engraved into its firm surface.
"She's a beauty."
As of now, festive décor had already begun arising in the town's many nooks and crannies. Cardboard cutouts of ghosts and (hopefully) artificial skeletons became everyday observations, with witch hats and plastic body parts almost as commonplace. Yet no decoration was as prolific as the dignified Jack o'lantern. Practically the icon of Hallowe'en, carved pumpkins and gourds found homes near every home in the territory. The majority of them followed the basic Jack o'lantern formula: two eyes, and a toothy expression. Some, however, were a tad more interesting than that, wearing patterns of popular horror characters as well as other iconic figures. They always marveled him, the fashioned pumpkins did. In spite of the aversion he had towards the holiday associated with them, the Proxy couldn't help but gawk in awe each time an illuminated fruit crossed his wayward path. Even the cliché ones managed to steal his attention away from other affairs. Not because of the artistic aura they seemed to emanate. But because of envy. In the cur's point of view, he completely lacked the creativity and patience that carving pumpkin required of someone. Hell, he probably couldn't be trusted to merely handle a knife on his own in this current state.
Wormwood's call wasn't enough to grab hold of his attention span. The Guardsman seemed to find joy in hosting daily minigames or training sessions or whatnot, which the hound barely ever attended. Rather, it was the scent of fresh pumpkin that drew him to the scene. The male's ocular organs were failing, leaving him with a permanent blurred vision; but his nose still worked, despite it running wet with snot most of the time. His movement comes to a halt when the Lion is scarcely a few footfalls away. Dipping his noggin in a subtle bow, Tanglewood's second in command mouths a keen "Wormwood" in greeting, ere shifting his hazy glance in the harvested crops' direction. Stinging orange was the colour that painted the bulbous produce. He may be cursed with mild colourblindness, but he could still register the pumpkins' florescence.
A jack o'lantern of his own would be a nice way to leave his mark on the world, he imagined. A nod is shot in Wormwood's way, and the hound is off, helping himself to a handful of tools and a thickset pumpkin. The guts were as disgusting as he'd imagine they'd be - having not carved one before, the canine's process of crafting a jack o'lantern was fairly messy. Once the entrails were out of the picture, Leroy pointed a puzzled look at the plant he claimed, flummoxed as to what came next.
Right. The design.
Knifework wasn't his strong suit - when it came to blades, he preferred hacking and slashing in a crazed frenzy over delicate cuts done performed with the utmost care - though he was proud of his creation. A pumpkin, spruced up by a sloppily written HI engraved into its firm surface.
"She's a beauty."