WHO: Gale, Gretel, Hansel, Raven, and… [open to volunteer dancers] WHAT: Dancing. The forcible, curse-induced kind. WHEN: Day 3 WHERE: Ballroom WARNINGS: TBD (definitely language) STATUS: Open/In Progress
The rats had been unsettling, but not a wholly insurmountable problem. Gretel had slept fine in plenty of vermin-infested places, though that was usually a few rats at most… and maybe the odd insect or two, depending on how often the inns changed their bedding. This had been too many rats for the small bedroom, and with Hansel on the floor, he’d basically presented an easy target for nibbling. That meant finding another space to bunk down in, and after some debate and ill-tempered searching, they’d settled on the ballroom as the least offensive option possible. It was big. It was open. It only had the one viable entrance (since the door halfway up the wall didn’t seem like it would pose a problem to them so much as anyone stupid enough to go barreling through it).
They’d scattered bedding in a corner and went on with the morning’s business; namely, finding breakfast and distributing traps to others similarly afflicted in the night with more rats than made for tolerable companions. They’d come back to…
Well. Something. Gretel didn’t know what to call it. Red footsteps spiraled around the floor and up the wall, and it took very little time to find the shoes responsible. They were a pair of heels, prompting Gale to half-heartedly suggest that Gretel maybe see if they fit, but not happening. Gretel wasn’t putting her foot in a bloodied shoe. She balked, the team consulted, and they collectively decided on further investigation. Gale went upstairs to see if he could figure out how the footsteps climbed the wall, but when he came back down, reported that it was like looking into another room entirely- no red footsteps, no Hansel or Gretel.
That… wasn’t reassuring.
The only clue the piano afforded was a set of sheet music, so they recruited a pianist. Dancing to some mystery waltz wasn’t the weirdest thing they could do, all things considered, and Gale seemed surprisingly confident in his abilities. Gretel was less so, but there were literally footsteps to follow on the floor. She couldn’t go too far wrong, she figured, and cautiously stepped into the frame of Gale’s arms. “If this calls more rats,” she muttered, “I say we suggest a house-wide ban on music.” They had a pillowcase full of rocks. She thought that might be good enough to enforce it. If not, Gretel could get creative. She was feeling inspired.