Mod Journal for St. Margaret's. (saintly_mods) wrote in st_margarets, @ 2016-10-31 12:21:00 |
|
|||
Thread: One Cold Halloween
WHO: Everyone!
WHEN: Halloween night, October 31st
WHERE: School grounds, the graveyard, the woods, the dorms
Ambriel’s wings were held close to both his body and Davian’s. There was drizzle in the air and it was a cold evening: winter, as so many students so ominously tended to say, was coming. This Halloween, the weather was unfortunate, forcing many of the outdoor activities inside. Except, of course, this one.
A small group of people had gathered in the graveyard, wrapped in winter coats and scarfs and gloves and hats. It was almost nighttime and a solemn mood had descended upon them: the teachers, standing vigil, and the Experts, for whom it was a tradition to be present when the dead rose from their graves. Most students were too busy to prepare their dormitories for Halloween, but the Experts were always present when the sun went down, as a way to pay their respect to the school that had housed them.
Even Davian had not protested overly much, Ambriel mused. Then again, the demon had been much more willing to do things after their elopement. Ambriel, meanwhile, still did not feel like he used to: he was here, sure, but mostly because it was expected of him. It was the easiest course of action. Just go with the motions.
Ambriel moved closer to Davian, wanting to share his own warmth, wanting to find a little comfort. His eyes wandered the crowd, finding familiar faces that all looked appropriately solemn – Victoria, Thierry, Kana, Jae, even Sarah and Sorin, the two Pegasi that usually looked cheerful. The teachers matched their expression: Ms. Stheno with her snakes curled up, Mr. Pheres with his arms crossed, Ms. Edouard, Mr. Kaden, Ms. Hallowfen and Ms. Menides, her face as inscrutable as always.
The sunlight had grown paler and finally, it vanished. And then, a collective shiver through the people who had gathered in the graveyard.
They rose like smoke from the graves, strands of thin ethereal white that slowly shaped themselves into human-like shapes of silvery grey and translucent blue. A teacher with a fiddle started playing La Danse Macabre and, simultaneously, a low voice joined in. It sounded like a requiem. The music moved the angel, shaking loose emotions that he did not want to think about. Silently and slowly, tears began to leak from his eyes. The spirits assembled around Mr. Cavanaugh, the singer, waiting for him to finish. Like the living, they were paying their respects.
There was a glimmer of curiosity. Ambriel watched them, these ghosts, these restless souls that had not yet departed for the afterlife. A tall, haughty man in an outfit straight from the Civil War. A sad-looking maid with an apron and a bonnet, her wrists cut open and a silvery light pouring out. A trio of monks, their faces hidden under their hoods. Jonah.
But Ambriel recognized none of the monks. He was unsure whether he was happy or sad about that. Brother Nikolaos had passed on. He had found peace.
Ambriel closed his eyes and wiped the cold tears from his cheeks.
The song ended and the ghosts started making their way towards the school, following path of the warm yellow lights that would lead them to the dorms and the school buildings. Ambriel knew most of them would go to the Pegasus house, where the living and the dead gathered and communed. The living shared a meal while the dead could share their experiences. It had always been Ambriel’s favorite house during Halloween.
Like always, the spirits would avoid House Hydra, which had made a proper haunted house. The theme this year was Circus Clowns. House Kitsune had been turned into a paradise for AV geeks, with their movies and video games. This year, they had gone over the heads of the staff and instead of laser tag, were playing paintball in a dorm-wide obstacle course. House Sphinx would be all about the board games, though rumor had it that they’d gone all out with their fox hunt this year, hiding clues all over the castle, even in some of the harder to reach rooms.
And then you had House Ladon, which is where most everyone alive ended up to see the sun rise. It was where they built the bonfire and where the music was the loudest and the most dance-able. Usually, students were the music-makers, the most promising disk jockeys getting about an hour to get everyone dancing. No matter how vigilant the teachers were, there was always some way to get alcohol. Even Mr. Kaden’s presence couldn’t avoid that, though he tried. It might have something to do with the fact that every year, all the teachers gathered here during the crucial hour before the festivities started. Ladons weren't known for their intelligence, but when it came to creatively breaking the rules, they were a match for most Hydras.
This year, the Ladons had set up tents around the bonfire, to ward the visitors from the rain. They had also provided plenty of umbrellas. The bonfire itself was unthreatened by the rain: magical fire was more durable than most.
The living followed the dead, walking over the path that was dotted with little lights. Ambriel took Davian’s hand and followed suit as well.