Unfortunately, a festival focused around sugary delights made from tree sap has little to offer an undead man with little left in terms of his sense of taste, rendering him unable to enjoy said delights. He's mostly at the festival because everywhere else he was hoping to visit today is seemingly closed, and all the constructs in the hallways kept urging him toward the park. While no longer outright terrified of them, Carlisle wasn't interested in upsetting the constructs and giving them a reason to terrify him, so to the lower levels of Anchor he went.
He has to admit that now that he's here, the festival does merit a visit. Though he can't eat the candies or cupcakes or any of the other sap-coated confections (not that the constructs don't keep trying to get him to do so), he can certainly smell the sickeningly sweet aroma given off by the trees, rising from the steaming cups, and generally flooding the air all around him. More importantly, he can see how the sap affects other people, and his observations give him ideas.
Suffering from normal nightmares, agonizing guilt over even minor transgressions, and a worsening condition that left his limbs stiffer and colder with every passing day, Carlisle always had trouble sleeping when he was alive. Most often, he turned to liquor to quiet his thoughts; however, on some nights when the frailty of his body was more than he could bear, he'd enchant himself some specialized tea. Between the drink itself and the steam that rose from it, he could ease the aches of his muscles and the woes of his mind long enough to find relief. Now, his problem is that he can't manage to fall asleep at all, and with no paw plants to brew and the enchantment not strong enough to work on an undead on its own, he hasn't managed to sleep since he awakened as an undead.
And while it has occurred to him that the undead don't need to sleep, he prefers to think of himself as a person, and people need to sleep, so he should too. It not only gives him a break from his relentless anxiety, but it makes him feel just a little more human - a little more alive. He needs that routine, that structure - he needs this to feel more like himself.
And so, he wonders if the tea might be strong enough if he has a replacement for the paw plant, something that seems to have a similar effect overall. Now that well worth his time at this festival. Ducking behind one of the spiled trees, he waits for a moment when the constructs aren't looking, aiming to grab one of those half-full barrels for himself. He's going to need plenty of sap if he wants to experiment.
Wildcard
[Feel free to hit him up around Anchor, or shoot me a PM here, at grimmhooke, or on Discord to plot something else!]
Carlisle Longinmouth | Original | In-Game
Unfortunately, a festival focused around sugary delights made from tree sap has little to offer an undead man with little left in terms of his sense of taste, rendering him unable to enjoy said delights. He's mostly at the festival because everywhere else he was hoping to visit today is seemingly closed, and all the constructs in the hallways kept urging him toward the park. While no longer outright terrified of them, Carlisle wasn't interested in upsetting the constructs and giving them a reason to terrify him, so to the lower levels of Anchor he went.
He has to admit that now that he's here, the festival does merit a visit. Though he can't eat the candies or cupcakes or any of the other sap-coated confections (not that the constructs don't keep trying to get him to do so), he can certainly smell the sickeningly sweet aroma given off by the trees, rising from the steaming cups, and generally flooding the air all around him. More importantly, he can see how the sap affects other people, and his observations give him ideas.
Suffering from normal nightmares, agonizing guilt over even minor transgressions, and a worsening condition that left his limbs stiffer and colder with every passing day, Carlisle always had trouble sleeping when he was alive. Most often, he turned to liquor to quiet his thoughts; however, on some nights when the frailty of his body was more than he could bear, he'd enchant himself some specialized tea. Between the drink itself and the steam that rose from it, he could ease the aches of his muscles and the woes of his mind long enough to find relief. Now, his problem is that he can't manage to fall asleep at all, and with no paw plants to brew and the enchantment not strong enough to work on an undead on its own, he hasn't managed to sleep since he awakened as an undead.
And while it has occurred to him that the undead don't need to sleep, he prefers to think of himself as a person, and people need to sleep, so he should too. It not only gives him a break from his relentless anxiety, but it makes him feel just a little more human - a little more alive. He needs that routine, that structure - he needs this to feel more like himself.
And so, he wonders if the tea might be strong enough if he has a replacement for the paw plant, something that seems to have a similar effect overall. Now that well worth his time at this festival. Ducking behind one of the spiled trees, he waits for a moment when the constructs aren't looking, aiming to grab one of those half-full barrels for himself. He's going to need plenty of sap if he wants to experiment.
Wildcard
[Feel free to hit him up around Anchor, or shoot me a PM here, at