Difference between revisions of "Log:Krampusnacht 2017"

2017.12.05

The first Krampus Night for Tamarack Falls happens. No children were harmed!

Town Square

December 5th is a normal night like many others, but for those that follow Folklore and much like many other things that the US has adopted, Krampus Night, or Krampusnacht is becoming popular. And when Tamarack Falls is inhabited by weirdos well, you get to see some awesomely weird stuff go down.

This is the first Krampus Night for Tamarack Falls and it's gotten a few people excited! People are encouraged to dress up as Krampus or Saint Nicholas if they like. Or as angels that accompany Saint Nicholas. There's people already gathered around to wait for the parade of Krampus' to start. People who have went all out on making their costumes. The long gleaming curved horns can be seen in the torchlights, because yes, someone has thought that actual fire was a good idea tonight. Some of these costumes are outlandish and over the top. And there's the sound of bells when they walk.

The crowds are separated from the small parade route by ropes, but the Krampus are all carrying bundles of long thin sticks that they can scrape against the ground to scare children with.

There's tents where people can get food and drinks, as well as Krampusnacht gear. There's even pictures with Krampus or Saint Nicholas...or both if one wishes!

Byron has apparently chosen to go the festive route, considering he's shown up in a eye-bleeding red Santa suit complete with the hat and the white gloves. Well, at least he has the build to support it, but those dark wings sticking out of the back of the suit probably cast a less-than-cuddly air to the whole appearance. He does, however, seem to have the obligatory Krampus bribes taken care of with a huge bottle of schnapps tucked under one arm that has yet to be opened. That glass he's carrying around might or might not have the rest of the first bottle he brought with him, while he's curiously watching the normals making their way around.

Cerise is one of those normals out to see the various locals dressed up, the idea of actually dressing up herself seems to have been too out there for the woman. Her slightly worn designer wool peacoat is open and unbuttoned allowing a peak at the sleek cashmere sweater, buttoned shirt, and jeans that she wears underneath. All of which look like they were expensive, once. She's grabbed a disposable coffee cup filled with a steaming liquid from one of the stands and holds it in leather gloved fingers as she stands towards the edge, watching people come and go.

Avalon, as far as anyone knows, is completely normal. Save for the witch thing, of course. The local woman is dressed in a hooded coat of black, lined in deep red. Hands in the pockets, heeled boots clicking gently as she walks. There's the sound of bells from somewhere under her long skirt, a bit of seasonal cheer. Lips curved into an amused smile, as she takes in the festivities.

Closer to Byron is another Krampus with grey and black horns that curve back. This one is not as tall as some of the other ones, but just as scary as some of them. They are engaging some of the kids that are around, scraping the bundle of sticks on the ground to send them giggling, sometimes screaming and fleeing while their parents take pictures and get a good chuckle.

"Look, I haven't -read- it yet, but I'm just saying I'm excited about Wilson's new translation -- because words are /fluid/, you know? Just think of how textual interpretation changes in a single lifetime - 'lol'." Hark, the herald angels most certainly did not sing for Franklyn Garreau, who glides in to the square alongside a C.B. Alexander: puffing on a cigarette, her hands animatedly gesturing -- and threatening to burn him -- as the Fort Brunsett's biggest thespian chatters on to the notorious Author. "Tell me about a complicated man. - like compare that with many a way, wound with his wisdom or just a man, right?! Oh my goooood..."

Is she drunk? Uh... Franky is bundled up in a big black fluffy sheepskin coat, a black n' red scarf wrapped around her neck so many times, she's practically hidden underneath it - little black beret peekin' out atop her head. Imperfectly normal and 100% functional human being, Franky chatters and smoke and eventually looks around at the... Festivities. Oh lord. Is she here ironically? She's quite possibly smirking as she adds to C.B; "You ever meet a Krampus, Grumpus? Damn, I forget what it's /like/ out here..." So critical.

Aaron comes arriving in town square dressed in reds and black. Red coat with dirty white trim and cuffs, black gloves and boots. There is a hood with ornate looking horns on it that he occasionally flips up to cover his face. A brooch attached to his right lapel depicts two children in tears, collected in a basket by some sort of long-tongued demon. The cat that accompanies Aaron is dressed like a elf that got beat with an ugly stick. Perhaps its just the cats expression on his face that can only be read as .oO(I am going to shit on your couch when we get home).

Sam may be a raccoon-beast, but he's small, and lacks both animal fur and insulating subcutaneous tissue. He has to make up for both in layers of Fall and Winter clothing - wearing both a hooded sweater with a VANS logo on the front, and a heavy army surplus jacket with fleece lining over that. Beneath which, any number of layers might be worn; hem of both, as low as his thighs. They aren't his size. Yet, he's still just wearing jeans to go with them. But, none of them costume. He's not that prepared - he might not even have been expecting the celebration. But he's nocturnal and can smell the food on the crisp night air.

He looks every bit the out-of-towner as he joins the crowd. Looking every which way at costumes and tents -lacking the height to see the parade, at points. But catching glimpses through those gathered. He keeps his headphones down around his neck as he takes everything in - the food, mostly. Where it is and how well attended it is.

Every holiday celebration, even one dedicated to scaring children, needs a Scrooge. Or a Grinch, depending on the day. C.B. is happy to be one of the people filling that post. He's here with Franky, of course, smoking away, Red Sox cap on, red and black plaid quilted jacket, gray scarf, worn Levis and boots. Either he looks like your typica New Englander or homeless, depending on who you ask. "Franky, you'd be /appalled/ by the quality of most translations. I'm...pretty damn knowledgeable on the subject," for magic-y reasons he won't discuss in public. He pauses and stares around, giving the whole festival a nice, big ol' eyeroll. "What it's like out here? I thought you loved this small-town folksy crap." He's still making out folks he knows in the crowd, but it's also, like. Dark and stuff.

When one has a good number of locals and out of towners alike gathered, why not take advantage of it? That's exactly why, when Avalon's hands come out of the pockets of her jacket, they come with slips of black paper, writ on in gold. Slips of paper that grant the holder one (1) free Krampusnacht Blend tea at the Seventh House Cafe - right down the way, there. There's even a little map on the back, for those not local. The tea witch is all pleasant warmth - save for the faces she makes at kids, waggles of fingers. Because a little terror does a young heart good.

Cerise happens to spot C.B. and Franklyn before the pair sees her. She lifts a gloved hand and begins to weave her way through the crowd towards the pair. Unlike them, though, she actually seems to be truly and genuinely enjoying herself and offers both of them a bright, non-ironic smile when she does reach their side, although the smile offered to Franklyn is a bit more awkward in that I-only-kinda-know-you way. "Hey, C.B.! Franklyn. Did I hear you talking about a new translation? Odyssey, right? C.B., you're not just poo-pooing it because it's a /woman/ translating, are you?" Yeah, she'll snob it up with people, given half a chance.

Byron is probably a little more amused than he should be at the sudden peals of screaming from children running from the various Krampuses with sticks, even if he does stop from time to time to bend over and talk very animatedly with a small child. Someone is going to revoke his Autumn Card if he doesn't at least make a kid soil themselves before the evening runs out, though its probably more comical that the kids he stops to speak to seem quite happy to see a Santa that looks like He does. Well, he IS holding off one of the tinier Krampuses by allowing her to steal his glas od schnapps.

There's someone out near the food stands - okay, well, there's a lot of people out around the food stands at current, and there's a Lost there that might get... lost... in the crowd considering she's short. And currently has a somewhat ratty-looking blanket being used as a coat, over an oversized hoodie, cropped jeans, sneakers, and a gleam of silver tucked into the front of her sweatshirt. It's not really the kind of thing that's entirely suitable for the weather, but Ziv doesn't seem to mind terribly.

She's also got a little bag tucked over one shoulder and across her body, partially concealed underneath of that blanket. And she's got a cup of hot cider which she seems to be enjoying, and a donut. All the best kinds of things to get at winter festivals!

The Krampus' start their march around the town square with the sound of drums playing. Something that sounds like it's able to drive off even the bravest of souls. The interaction with the children continues, but what is noticeable is that it's playful and not something that is actually meant to scare the kids. Even if some do get terrified at times. Some of the masks /do/ make some of the smaller children cry.

And why yes, one of the Krampus' do break out a straw when they get closer to Byron and stick it in the bottle of Schnapps that he offers as sacrifice to take a few sips. All while the head moves back and forth to the drums. Then they have been appeased by Santa and they are back off to chase children with a cackle and the *scrapescrapescrape* of sticks against the pavement.

Another of the Krampus...Krampuses? Krampii? ... is lanky, almust unhealthily so. The fur suit masking the body is close to the wearer's form, and they are -quite- lanky. They've left their hands uncovered, which only adds to the queer mystique it puts off, with twisting, whorling scars wandering here and there over the palms and digits, and they bounce from slow movements to abrupt, twirling displays, never letting the kids sneaking closer forget that the Krampus could get you AT ANY MOMENT! Those children this one catches find themselves with homemade charcoal briquettes- and a small handful of papper wrapped poppers to throw on the ground. Just because he's chasing the bad kids doesn't mean he wants them to be good ones.

Aaron finds a place to move asside as the movement of the Krampii begin their marching the town square.

"Then I'll get you a copy, and we can break it down." Franky chimes, cheerful enough as she exhales smoke towards the heavens, chattering on, "And oh-my-/gooood/, I do, I /do/ love it -- I missed the first snow, so--" Franky stops talking, as she's spotted Cerise. If she wants to snob it up? No better place than with these two ex-NYC literati jerks. Gloved hand is waved in greeting, then Franky SNORT/laughs, "Oh, I'm /sure/ he can find a much more creative way to rip it apart, than /basic/ assholism and misogyny. Right Ceebs?... Oh - did you read Classicsss--" Remember her name, Frank - /remember/, "--Cerise?"

Big smile! But not much attention, as it just-so-happens that Franky passes by Avalon, and catches sight of the cards. Cigarette in mouth, she side-steps to try and accept one, giving her a semi-familiar glance. "Hey!" Jubilant and only kinda getting covered in cigarette ash, Franklyn squints to see the cards, then gestures to Avalon animatedly, "Seventh House! You guys do the white needle tea, and the jasmine orange blossom, and the smoked stuff, and the witch tea, right?" Big smile! It continues! Fuelled, alas, not by schnapps - more like bourbon, if the smokey scent is anything to go by.

Gloves. Gloves would be a logical next step. Sam rubs his hands together. Blows into them, igniting the empty air with a puff of steam that imitates those given off by cups of hot cocoa - but only for a moment. As he huffs, his many sharp little teeth are exposed to onlookers with the sight to see his mien. If the smudged raccoon pattern around his eyes were less telling of his place, among the fae. A double take at Ziv, close to the food stands as he passes - fur that he assumes isn't costuming. He flashes a sharp toothed smile and parts his hands to wave as he wanders by, toward the food.

"Cerise," C.B. greets, vaguely nodding towards her before snorting at Frank. He's about to say more, maybe, but then Frank is in a huge flutter of...Frankness. So he pulls out his flask and watches the procession of Krampii through bleary eyes, noting a few others around. Ziv, Sam, sure, Vorpal too. But he doesn't wave or smile or approach any of them. Just drinks, smokes and finally, belatedly adds to Cerise, "I poo-poo all translations because most of them are inferior to the original texts. Can't be helped."

Ziv's noticed the other relatively small Beast that's gone in the direction of food, though she's not currently at liberty to properly wave to him. Not until the donut is shoved in between her own teeth, held in place by her lips, and then she's able to wave a wing that direction. A curious gaze follows the passage of the raccoon-beast, and then she falls into stepping along behind him - not too close, more at a distance, but near enough to hopefully keep him in sight within the crowd. She does not, however, notice C.B. at current.

From Avalon's leather-gloved fingers, that card is easily extended to Franklyn. She even gets a smile! Mis-matched eyes are bright things, as she looks over the woman - what she can see of her, at least, beneath that hat and scarf combo. "That would be the place, yes," comes the soft voice in the local accent. "Along with various other blends. I like to think that we've got something for everyone." That green-and-amber gaze flits to C.B., then Cerise, before it's back to Franky. Little side-steps taken, from time to time, to avoid any ashing.

That barely remembering her name accompanied by attention turning so swiftly to another, causes Cerise's attempt of a smile at Franklyn to stiffen even more. She lets Franklyn talk to Avalon, and turns instead to observe the parade some more, sticking close enough though to remark idly, "So, you think we should teach every high-schooler Greek, C.B.? I hardly think that's going to happen." As she chats and watches, she lifts her cup and takes a sip before gesturing towards the parade itself, "Know anyone out there?"

As the Krampus' progress in their parade, there's a Saint Nicholas that follows. Acting like his driven the demons from the parade route. It's part of the act. Some of the costumed Krampus' turn and hiss, scraping the sticks against the ground at him, but in the end, the Saint wins.

If only it were that easy. Saint Nicholas and his angels are the end of the parade though. But there are plenty of Krampus shenanigans to be had as they disperse and start heading throughout the crowd to show off their costumes and things of that nature. Some heading home because of the week night.

Sam doesn't seem to notice that Ziv follows, not right away. He's drawn by food, and Ziv's donut plays a part in him figuring out where he's going to start. He finds a line. Line-ups everywhere, really. And prices! He doesn't need to pat down his pockets to know that isn't going to happen, tonight. He chews the inside of his lip thoughtfully. Swivels his head until he finds tabled free donuts and cookies - this line he joins, at least until he can find a window to slip through. Hands into his pockets, now, as he turns and cranes his head. He hasn't been here long enough for there to be many familiar faces. But he spots C.B. and recognizes Franklyn, at least - to bother later, once fed. And he searches for the beast he passed while the line starts to move.

"Fantastic; thank you - I'm already a fan; been driving a magician friend insane, by forcing him to drive all the way out here to have tea with me in the shop. Fire. There's not enough places with fire-- oh! I'm Franklyn, Franklyn Garreau." Card pocketed, she's reaching out to offer Avalon her hand -- cigarette kept at bay, but only because she is gesturing to Cerise and C.B. as she chatters on, "This is Ceebee, and Cerise - I don't know about her tea preferences, but Ceebs pretty much refuses to drink the stuff, so you're better off with us."

So much talking! Shouldn't Franklyn be paying attention to the festivities? Because she seems to be trying to get everyone to... Talk? "Cerise, have you been to Seventh House? Had the witch tea--" Back to Avalon, "What /is/ the witch tea secret, eh? Be a doll, and spill a little?" Beam! Why, there's even a little wink there - before she ohs! And looks to C.B., adding belatedly; "I still don't buy the original being the superior form. Sic transit gloria mundi."

Byron doesnt really keep up withhte parade, sort of lingering along the side, and cheers on the Saint Nicholas as he and his angels 'shoo' the Krampuses along. Nevermind the one that occassionally returns to steal more of his schnapps. When the group begins to scatter, he starts forward into the group, offering a bit of a smile to Avalon and Franklyn, though he doesn't try to interrupt. Instead he seems to be here to watch and occassionally peal off a bit of laughter at a screeching kid, though one that reaches for his bottle is corrected, "No, no, that's special from Missus Claus!"

Ziv can probably be spotted by Sam - especially considering she gets bumped into by someone quite a bit bigger than her, and it sends her stumbling to the side before she catches her balance. A look is shot that way, and then she's creeping along after the raccoon-beast again... but when it becomes apparent that he's likely to already see her, she stops with the skulking act, readjusting the blanket she's wearing like a cloak, and then taking the donut out of her mouth. "Hey."

C.B. is watching the parade, scowling at Saint Nicholas and his angels. "I don't know," he tells Cerise, glancing at her. "Might not be a bad idea. Yeah, I know plenty of people here. It's a small goddamn town." He nods at Avalon but squints at Frank: "We've already met. I've been to her shop." He sounds...unimpressed, somehow. Smokes his cig, drinks from his flask, and tells Franky, point-blank: "You're wrong."

The too-lanky Krampus keeps lurching through the crowd, depositing charred wood and poppers to any kid paying little enough attention to be caught. It's startling, to be sure, but the additional little presents hopefully do some work to soften the impact as the jittery Krampus wanders and twitches on its way.

"Well, feel free to introduce me to anyone I may not already ... " Cerise cuts off because Franklyn is doing that very thing and she meets the attempt with much more friendliness than C.B. does. She shifts the cup over to a single hand so that she can shove the other one out to Avalon. "No. No I haven't been there yet. Two jobs, busy on my days off and such, but I will try and make it over. What, uh, /is/ witch tea though?"

Sam was impatient even before he started waiting. He steps with the crowd as it moves, and turns to watch from the back of the line again. Searching or just looking. It isn't until after that larger figure bumps Ziv that he spots her again. He grins as she joins him, not shy about his teeth in the slightest. "Hey," he repeats. Civilized in their beastly manners. "Sam," he offers. "Without the -uel. Not short for anything. What is that? Jelly filled? Glazed?" he asks. Priorities. There's a slight mantle about him - crisp fall air, sweetness amidst the rot. Like a scented shampoo with a earthy kicks.

"Avalon Lefevre," the woman offers, juggling things a bit so that she frees up her right hand so that she can shake Franklyn's. "And thank you. Place is my passion, after all." Hand shaken, and then a nod. "Yes, Ceebee and I have met before," she says with a nod. "And I've gotten him to drink the tea at least once. Good to meet you, Cerise. As for the witch tea, well. I can't be giving all my secrets away. But it's all in the brewing. One of those cases where timing is everything." She winks, and it eclipses her green eye, as she shakes the newest hand offered to her. Byron, while not familiar? He gets a smile too. Because who doesn't smile when smiled at by that particular fellow. More free Krampusnacht tea cards handed out, with that left hand.

"Ziv. Not short for anything, either," answers Ziv, still holding the cider - some of which sloshed out earlier - in her wing that doesn't hold the donut. She considers Sam, thoughtfully, and then offers out the bitten (and slightly soggy donut) to him in several elongated fingers. "Yup, not really too good without the filling. It's too sweet... and... dry. So, jelly." Her own mantle isn't really obvious - in fact it probably blends in with the current weather.

The Smallest Krampus has finally had their fill of making kids squeal and there's a bit of a moment taken to go find Saint Nicholas when he comes walking by and there's a few scrapes of sticks against the pavement and then they are off! Because there was food and one hungered. And someone had Schnapps. Once Byron is spotted they head that way and tug the bottle out of his grasp, replacing it with a hand before dragging Santa off.

Apparently Santa has been on the naughty list!

Yeah - if it's social interaction one's after, Franklyn may be a better bet than C.B., as the Mortal girl seems pretty comfortable just chatting along to everyone like she assumes they actually want to talk to her. What hubris. Doesn't stop her from giving Avalon's hand a friendly squeeze as they shake; eyebrows raising as she hears 'Lefevre', but not interrupting until proper; "I'll check back at the proper time, then... But passion! I can tell; the place has /warmth/ to it, beyond the fire. What use is doing =any work=, if you're not willing to cry and bleed and beg and bargain for it?"

...Is she serious? Franky sounds serious -- turning to Cerise, eyebrows raised, "Like, /two/ jobs?! /Please/, please tell me at least one is =exactly= what you want to be doing?" Apparently Frank's exact intentions are now focused on trying to steal C.B's flask; turning and sticking her tongue out at him for a second. "Maybe so. Show me how -- because context is everything, right? I'm sure ancient Egyptian love poems were moving; but I couldn't appreciate them, if it weren't for Pound's admittedly wild interpretations. How is that less superior? It's more /suitable/, right?"

Byron acks lightly when his bottle is outright taken, and his hand too! Maybe even looking comical in how he's getting towed off by someone half his size. Murmuring under his breath, "Are you sure this is how things are supposed to go? Ho ho ho!" He really doesn't look like the idea is upsetting him too much, though, since he addresses Cerise on the way past her, "Pardon me!"

As Franklyn and Avalon and CB and Cerise chatter away, the lanky Krampus lumbers past the group, heading towards a few clustered teens towards the back. The one unlucky enough to have their back to it shrieks when it catches up with them, and the whole group is laughing as it wanders away, tossing the poppers at each other.

Sam frees his right hand from his pocket. He pushes back the bangs from his dark head of hair on one side, to tuck them behind his ear; giving better visibility through at least one feral eye. He tilts his head as he checks the cider and donut in turn; the label of the former, the slightly soggy state of the latter. He takes the donut as offered and bites into it without concern. "Thanks," he says, voice muffled by the mouthful as he chews. "Where'd you get the cider? You live here long?" he asks in quick succession, as if the questions were somehow related. He swallows what of the donut he has chewed and takes another big bite, before offering it back, like a cigarette to be shared.

One of Ziv's wings is raised, to wave away the donut as she shakes her head at Sam. "It's okay! You can have it," there is a brief look, though, as if she does consider taking it back. Apparently a bitten donut that's been in her mouth - and now Sam's - is something of value to Ziv. Even though she's just given it away. A sip of her cider is taken instead, dark eyes straying off towards the teenagers, and the lanky Krampus over there only briefly. "I've lived here a few months... Since August or so. That's um... going on four, now? What about you? Are you new here?"

"Yeah, yeah. I drank the tea," C.B. grumbles to Avalon. He blinks a few times, turning back to Frank, both when she tries to steal his flask and when she /insists/ one of those jobs of Cerise's is something she should love. Also, he's not doing a particularly good job of introducing Cerise to anyone, so yeah. Frank's better for that. Why is C.B. even /here/? "Sometimes you're just...unbelievable, Frank. And no, I don't believe context is everything. The words /themselves/ can bring out the meaning. You have a brain, don't you?

Perhaps it comes from a long time working at a cafe, the ease Avalon has, just flowing with the conversation. Franklyn's brows raise at the last name, and there's a quirk of lips - yes, Lefevre, that look says - before she continues on. "Please do. Always nice to have patrons that truly enjoy the place. It makes my little heart warm, you know? Though I admit, that fireplace? Totally what sold me on the location when I decided to open. And the age. Not old - not even New England old - but it's just right. I..." She starts to say more, but when she's reaching into her pocket for another one of those Free Tea Slips, she pulls out...a piece of coal? There's a rather baffled blink, and a look around the crowd, forgetting everything else for a moment.

"Oh! That's Ok!" Cerise offers a wave and a smile to Byron as he is tugged by, then the mortal admits to the people closest to her in a soft voice, "I haven't a clue what's going on, really." Before she continues more normal, "Uh, yeah, well sure I like my job, but are we talking about that or are we talking about translations?"

Sam shrugs and pops the last of the donut into his mouth. He's been distracted. The line-up has moved on without him. He chews as he follows Ziv's gaze toward the teenagers and the lanky Krampus - briefly distracted by that as well before Ziv's words draw him back. He swallows. Last of the donut dealt with. "How warm was August?" he asks - he must be considering staying awhile. He nods. "I think it's been under a week," he admits. But gives no exact date. His sweater smells like Fireball, though his breath does not, and there are flakes of croissant at the edges of its sleeves - but no croissants on display nearby. "What's fun around here?" is his follow up, whether or not the question of climate is answered.

"Uuuh... it was really pretty warm. Summery. Good for really light clothing. Not so much heavier," Ziv's eyes turn to the side as she tries to remember, and finally she seems to spot Franklyn, C.B., Cerise, and Avalon. At least some of them get her free wing (to those that can see it) lofted in greeting before she chews on her lower lip. Back to Sam, "What's... -fun-? I think that... really depends on what you think is fun in the first place. What's fun for me might not be for you. But if you like that sort of thing, they've got clubs and bars and stuff and a ferris wheel and woods..." She trails off.

Does she have a brain?!

Franklyn is all smiles and erratic skip-hop-jumps from subject to subject, up until the moment C.B. says that to her. Those eyebrows go up, up, up, and the Garreau girl looks, in a word, incredulous. Two words? Ticked off. Only gently though; enough to tease; "...I'm going push you under the Barthes until you can't breathe." Uh. Franky? She continues, trying to downplay her irk with a laugh as she looks to Avalon and Cerise. "You guys know the author is dead, right?"

Hazy smile, and Frank's humming, moving on in that non-linear style of hers, "Did it take you long to find..." Whatever she was going to say to the group is cut short, as she spots Avalon's lump of coal. She blinks twice, then turns and gives Cerise a look - mouth open, but no words coming out. Is she spooked? Flabbergasted? Not sure how to reply to the other woman? "...Euuh?"

C.B. flicks his cigarette into the street. He gives Franky a long look. "On that note...it's been a gas, everyone. I've got work to do." Does he get that flask back from Franky? Maybe. Maybe not. "Later." And now the street he starts to stroll, maybe towards his Ford Bronco, maybe not. Though if he and Franky came together, he's not going to leave her in the lurch. He'll probably just...wait there until she decides she wants to go home.

Sam nods, and already tucked bangs are shaking loose - it's a serious consideration he gives, to what he can expect from August. He follows her attention again, recognizing two faces out of the group - but only having a name to place for one of them. He lifts the hand not in his pocket, now free of donut, and waves as well. "You know C.B.?" he asks, when he turns back to Ziv. And smiles at the list provided, so far as things to do goes. "All of the above," he answers. Both beast and partier. "I haven't been on a ferris wheel in forever or any of the local clubs - I didn't think there'd be either here," he admits, after a little more consideration.

As Avalon looks around to try to figure out what happened to leave her with a handful of coal, a wash of strangeness drops over the crowd, just for a moment. Avalon- and maybe a few other people, Sam certainly- catch sight of the too-lanky Krampus slink up on Ziv as she chats with her new friend. There's a whirl of fur, and then Ziv is gone, as is the Krampus. The last to be seen of either of them? The Krampus, at the mouth of an alley, Ziv over his shoulder with a fresh donut crammed in her mouth. Then they're into the alley, and the strangeness vanishes with them.

"Yeah, I work for - with - him," answers Ziv after Sam's last question, giving a small bob of her head in answer. The cider is considered, thoughtfully, and then she offers that to Sam as well, apparently having decided she's done with it. "It's more in Fort Brunsett, is where I'm thinking of. It's about... a half-hour's drive. Here? Mostly woods and everything else. I don't live in --" 

And then, Ziv is apparently gone. Somewhere along the way, someone might get a smack in the back of the head. 

"Never mind!" Cerise is all apologetic as Franklyn stares at her. C.B. leaving seems to be the perfect out for her though. "oh, it looks like you all are leaving - I should as well. It was nice meeting you Avalon, I'll stop by the store sometime and try that tea, yes?" And then before Franklyn can stare at her more, she is backing away.

Sharp ears might catch an "ow" from that mysterious alley. Truly the most mystifying of sounds.

Another few slow blinks at that piece of coal, another glance into the crowd. Avalon looks back to Franky at that, having missed whatever would warrant C.B.'s potential execution in her own focus of What The Eff. "I guess I've been naughty this year." She makes her tone light for it, even adding a laugh, before she drops the lump back into her pocket. "Yeah, good meeting you too. I should...be off. Definitely come by some time. For tea." A shake of her head, and then she's going off, into the crowd.

Franky clears her throat - giving Cerise an apologetic look, and then Avalon a wan, oddly nervous smile. It might be the coal - or the fact her ride has just flounced on her. Isn't that Frank's roll? "It was lovely seeing you both -- enjoy the evening, and don't talk to any strangers on the bridge, yeah?"

Oh the local humour! Franklyn gives those around her a little wave, then starts off after C.B. -- no doubt they have some tedious and ongoing literary kerfuffle to talk out at length. Post-Structuralism is such dealbreaker to some. Sam opens his mouth, about to say something more - on either Fort Brunsett or C.B., then blinks. He'd noted the slinking krampus with a glance. But the folding of Ziv with the Krampus and both their immediate absences leave him more than slightly stunned. He looks either way, swiveling again. "Hello? Ziv?" The free cookie and donut table is empty. The recognized faces are departing. There's a shadow in a distant alleyway that harkens to dark yuletide things. "Hallucinogenic jelly donuts," he mumbles to himself. Maybe not as a culprit, but as an idea. "Ziv," he repeats - name to remember, as he still searches for her in the crowd - as well as pockets to pilfer or trash bins to loot.