Chapter Text
I.
Click. Click. Click. Click.
Cheerful heeled footsteps clack against hardwood floors, illuminated by the orange flickering glow of tealights placed in small rustic lanterns and tiny hollowed-out pumpkins that line the hallways.
Click. Click. Click. Click.
Tall black ears brush against fake cobwebs, feathery draped across the ceilings, accented with artistically weathered plastic skulls (but no fake spiders—these are not tolerated in this house).
Click. Click. Click. Click.
A satin gloved forefinger and thumb daintily adjust a stray piece of fake lichen here, a crooked tombstone there, on entire segments of the house that look as if patches of a haunted forest are peeking through, spilling straight from a storybook in some eerie dimensional anomaly.
Click. Click. Click. Click.
Click.
Plush, rouge-tinted lips break into a bright, gap-toothed grin.
For Jayce Talis—local eccentric and oddball afficionado of all things pertaining to magic, to the occult, to runes and wizard robes and crystals and spells—is decorating his home for Halloween.
Outside, a chilling wind rattles through jagged tree branches, tosses up the fallen leaves to rustle across the foggy moonlit streets, past Jayce’s favorite prop of the season groaning with a mechanical creak where it already towers on the lawn—a custom, full-sized animatronic gatekeeper of the world of sorcery (“Not a reaper,” Jayce huffs often). A mysterious figure that grips a gnarled staff in one pale, rune-tattooed hand, and beckons hapless trick-or-treaters toward the front door with the other, face completely shrouded in the depths of its white cloak.
The mechanical arm creaks again, and that pale, otherworldly hand lifts to point towards the door once more, its bracelet of little magic blue stones clinking with the movement, the sweeping fabric shifting to reveal tiny scattered lights beneath the sleeve, as if a field of stars is hidden there under its robes.
Yes, Jayce thinks, smile quirking wider, innocent and evil. Tonight is the perfect night for this.
He saunters, click click, into the final room of the house that needs decorating—the living room.
This room is free of Halloween spirit, save for one little figure: A traditional ghost. A nondescript figure covered in a classic white sheet, with three tiny, soft-shaped holes drawn on to make up the voids that are its eyes and mouth.
Jayce saunters in full view of that little ghost, turns his back to it, and carefully maneuvers the giant box of decorations he’s saved for this part of the house. He bends down slowly to place it gently on the floor, and luxuriously stretches back up.
He gives the ghost behind him a sly look—and for good measure, does a little twirl in front of it, shows off his full outfit.
He draws his hands up his hips, hugged by a short, ruffled, lacy, flowery black skirt, with a fluffy little white rabbit tail in the back peeking pertly through the folds. Fingers trail past sheer thigh-high tights, strapped with little thigh garters and extending downwards to smart, shiny black heels.
Those hands, covered in long, luxurious black satin gloves that extends up to his biceps, are drawn further up Jayce's taut body, where the lacy skirt extends upward into a lacy corset, crisscross laced in the back with a little black ribbon, and in the front, tightly hugging Jayce's generous pectorals, strong from his rigorous time spent in his family's metalworking business.
Jayce lets out a long, low exhale that is part hiss and part moan, and finally lets his hands rest on his broad shoulders. He cocks his head to the side playfully, and with the movement, tall black bunny ears wave above carefully styled dark hair, short and neatly shaved, with a cute little curl dipping down over his forehead.
He smirks at the ghost with a quirk of red lips.
It stares back silently.
“What do you think?” he asks, playful.
As if on cue, it lights up from within, eerie hextech blue. Vibrates just a little. And lets out a cute little scary sound: “OoooOOohh!” as if in awe of Jayce’s display.
From elsewhere in the room is a choked off grunt.
Jayce just laughs lightly at the little ghost.
“I knew you’d like it!”