mythmaking | (no subject)

[It's a cloudy mid-morning on THURSDAY, JANUARY 9, and the town is bustling as always. Many people are quite excited about the second batch of new arrivals; though they're not getting quite the celebration the first round got, they still might find themselves being greeted by bizarrely friendly folk.

Out of place is a number of geese scattered around town, each with their own little messenger bag packed full of rolled up parchment. They're putting the papers up all over, on fence posts and market stalls and storefronts, even stuffing them into mailboxes and leaving them on benches. Each paper is nearly identical, with large, blocky font and the occasional inky feather mark.

LOST
SEVERAL ITEMS OF GREAT IMPORT

SOMEONE HAS STOLEN FROM OUR HOMES THE FOLLOWING THINGS

ONE GOOSE-SIZED NIGHT CAP
THREE TEACUPS (PINK AND YELLOW FISH PRINT)
EXACTLY SEVEN AND A QUARTER LEFT SOCKS
AN APPLE CRUMBLE

IF FOUND PLEASE CONTACT
ADELICIA VON FARTHINGTON (THE FIFTH)
AT THE NORTH BANK OF THE LAKE

If stopped, the geese will be more than happy to talk at great length about how terrible this all is. Strangely, there appear to be a few other people and animals poking around as though looking for something, or acting a bit sullen for such an otherwise joyful day.]

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[They're already getting suspicious looks, particularly from the stall owner who isn't too happy to have Mogget perched atop his stall and Starscream not interested in his wares.

Mogget is normally wary of strangers, especially ones as strange as Starscream, but knowing that he can disappear at any time gives him a back-up plan in case the Cybertronian proves to be hostile. So the cat inches forward to the edge of the stall roof, then jumps to neatly land on Starscream's shoulder.]

The nearest gate out of the city is south-west.

[Starscream flinches when Mogget launches himself at his shoulder, and then scowls when the cat makes its perch there, but he doesn't protest out loud. The cat probably can't walk as fast as Starscream can, after all.]

...Try not to shed while you're there.

[Starscream glances at the sky, hoping that he can navigate the same way as on Earth, then sets off towards the city gate.]

[It doesn't take too long to get there, since he takes long strides and most people give the man covered in sharp edges a wide berth. As they walk through the city, Mogget might note that a turnip lantern is always mysteriously nearby.]

[As soon as they're through the gates, Starscream heads to the nearest field, empty but for the snow on the ground and the fence surrounding it. And reasonably private.]

Right. You may get off me now.

[Mogget doesn't dignify that with a response. As shoulders go, Starscream's is not comfortable and he has to adjust a little to find his balance. On the other hand, it does give him a closer look at the stuff Starscream is made of... He'd never imagined seeing a living creature with metal skin.

Once they reach the field, Mogget doesn't need to be told to get off. He leaps down at once and runs a short way through the snow before turning around. His eyes fix on the turnip lantern. Does the same one keep reappearing, or are they following a trail of lanterns for reasons he cannot fathom?]

What is that?

[As soon as Mogget's off of his shoulder, Starscream attempts to dust it off.]

[He looks up at the sound of Mogget's voice, and immediately spots the turnip lantern. Starscream's expression is perhaps a little more nervous than strictly necessary, and he actually edges away from it.]

It's a Jack Lantern, isn't it? Are they... not normally found in this area?

[Starscream's reaction confirms that something is going on. Mogget gives him a look.]

We're in a field. Why would there be a lantern in an empty field?

[He approaches the lantern with caution, looking to see if there's anything unusual about it.]

I don't know! Why do humans do anything?

[Starscream watches Mogget and the lantern very carefully, as if a bomb might go off at any moment.]

[The lantern itself is unusually large for a turnip, and the light emanating from the face carved into the turnip doesn't come from a candle, but from a bright ember lying on the bottom of the turnip's interior.]