Demons, Witches, and Toads (BoyxBoy)

The Festival of the Raven

The weeks leading up to the Festival of the Raven seemed to pass almost unbearably slow. Wheeler and Priscilla continued with the castle repairs, doing as much as they could before they were to return to the academy at the end of the month. With the exception of Wheeler's nineteenth birthday, the days had been fairly uneventful. Despite this, the sound of the Count scuttling through the walls unnerved Wheeler even more than before.

At last, the day of the festival arrived, and as they entered back into Gortsville, they found the dismal village in a drastically different state. The streets were packed to the brim, filled with people laughing and dancing. Despite the festive atmosphere, the villagers were dressed completely in black, with many wearing raven masks complete with beaks and glistening inky feathers.

And speaking of ravens...

Looking upwards, it was clear where the festival had gotten its name.

Circling in the air above the villagers were at least a thousand ravens. There were so many of them they looked like a massive black cloud.

"Well," Mulock muttered as they elbowed their way through the crowded streets, "I think I speak for all of us when I say that's utterly horrifying."

"I disagree," Wheeler began. "I think they're kinda--"

"If the word cute so much as leaves your mouth, I will end you," Mulock said sharply.

"So," Priscilla asked, glancing around. "What exactly do we do while we wait for this Arlo guy?"

"Walk around and keep our eyes peeled," Mulock said with a shrug.

"We could get snacks," Wheeler said excitedly. "Look at the desserts over there!" He pointed to a cart where a masked vendor was handing out some sort of icy confection on a stick.

"Ooooh, yes!" Priscilla cheered. "I haven't had a good dessert in ages."

The Vivok twins hadn't been lying when they'd told them the desserts at the castle could make one violently ill. Poor Priscilla and Wheeler had learned that the hard way.

Mulock sighed heavily, trailing behind them as they bounded towards the vendor.

"Wheeler, you should only have one," Mulock called after them.

"Wha... why?"

"Because you get stomach aches if you eat sweets too late into the evening," the demon replied, crossing his arms.

"Awww," Priscilla giggled. "Aren't you the little nanny?"

"Priscilla, I've almost murdered you once, and trust me, I'll do it again if you don't shut the hell up."

"Oh no," Priscilla cooed. "Someone's grumpy."

"Miss Packwood, you're a brat and I hate you."

"Well, Mister Mulock... wait... shit. I don't know your last name." Her shoulders sagged. "Man, I guess I just killed my own comeback."

Wheeler returned to his spot beside them, now carrying three of the frozen treats in his hands. "I got one for each of us," he said cheerfully, handing one to Priscilla and the other to Mulock.

"Wheeler, you're absolutely wonderful," Priscilla said with a dreamy sigh as her eyes fell to the desssert. "I've missed sweets so much!"

She opened her mouth, eyes shutting blissfully for her first bite. And that's when someone suddenly knocked into her, causing the poor dessert to plummet to the ground.

"NOOOOOOOOO!" Priscilla screeched, staring down at the pile of icy mush as if there'd just been a murder.

Without missing a beat, Mulock shoved his own dessert into her hands. "Take this," he mumbled. "I don't even like sweets."