Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Though it was probably not something one would be able to hear without pressing their ear against the wall of the structure, the large clock tower in the middle of the usual haunts most definitely made noise. It was faint, but it existed. Perhaps it went to show how, in the end of it all, we are simply jus- "Why even think about this?"

"Huh?" Zane asked within the corridors of his mind, raising an eyebrow as he leaned his head up a little from the rather relaxes position he was in.  "Clocks make noise. Incredible. Discovery of the decade, truly. Do you not have something more interesting to muse about?" Zane searched his mind for his answer... but found little to say. And so the two of them just sat there for a while in silence as the tick tocking of the clock continued on...

As the coat of his vampire costume swayed in the wind, a realization came to mind. "Wait." Zane said out loud, his fake fangs making his voice sound just a little mumbly. "Isn't this hand gonna start tilting downward soon?" Beelzebub fell silent for a moment as well. "Oh shit." The clock ticked again, this time moving the giant minute-assigned hand - the thing Zane had been so pleasantly lounging on - to the spot for the minute 20. It didn't take long for Zane to start slipping off the side of the thing, his panic making him unable to form any kind of plan with Beelzebub inside his head. All he could do - all Beelzebub could do, for that matter - was scream.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

A man woke up by the pavement of the Clock Tower sometime within the next few hours. His head was banging harder than rabbits. The man's hand almost immediately clutched his skull, seething a small bit in pain as he got used to his surroundings. Where was he...? Some weird Halloween-esque town, perhaps? Wobbling up, the man realized he was wearing a vampire-themed costume, most easily identified by the long black coat and the pair of fake fangs that quite frankly weren't too comfortable. One arm supported his body with the wall of the clock tower, the other taking the time to remove his fake fangs from his mouth and slide them into his pocket.

The man wobbled forth to a fountain, his mind only thinking about sipping water for the time being. His thirst was very thoroughly quenched, though most of the nearby residents looked at him with confusion. As the man finished his drink, he looked at himself in the reflection of the water. It was time to answer the big question - who was he?

Not in a philosophical manner or anything mind you. This was different. The man had no idea who he was. Was it related to his head? Perhaps he had some sort of amnesia. Tilting his head towards the clock tower, the man was able to conclude that he probably suffered a fall from some point on the clock tower. The tower wasn't THAT tall, so perhaps with any luck this would be a short term thing. Just in case the man decided to pull out his wallet and give it a chec- oh. His wallet was gone. "Shit." The man muttered to himself. "Guess an unconscious man is a pretty good target."

Standing up, the man decided it would be best to simply walk around the town for a while. He was here for a reason, right? Perhaps experiencing the town would help him regain his memories.

And so he walked, looking at the various costumes that everyone in Samhain wore. His eyes were quite drawn to just about every woman wearing a costume. Was this something his past self was into? "I must have pretty good taste..." He muttered to himself, his eyes shamelessly perusing over 50 percent of people he passed on the street. Then an idea popped into his head. A brilliant idea, one most definitely worth giving a go.

The man walked towards a group of people, almost all of them women. It didn't seem like they were all together, most of them simply minding their business by a gigantic chocolate fountain - fitting for a place like this. "Hey!" The man called out, putting his two hands in front of his mouth in an attempt to propel his voice further. Actually, wait. Those people were right next to him, weren't they? Guess his depth perception was messed up... "I've forgotten who I am." The rather handsome man stated, his light blue eyes putting on a convincing puppy dog act. "Will you ladies help me remember?"

It seemed as though not even short-term amnesia could stop [???] from being, well, [???].

The demon now frequented the little markets and food stalls of Samhain with much confidence. A few days at the halloween town had apparently done the trick: she learned where to buy actual food and not just candy and was even encouraged by one of the locals to dress up and wear a ‘costume’. Apparently being a rogue demon wasn’t anything special and no one here was impressed by her usual attire. Not wanting to be left out, the thief complied with the suggestions of one of the vendor’s, a middle aged lady who was eager to sell her a bunny costume.

“But bunnies aren’t even scary–,” the purple haired had argued, having understood that spooky vibes and an eerie atmosphere were the core of halloween. “It doesn’t have to be,” the vendor encouraged her, lifting both her hands in a reassuring gesture. “Trust me, everyone will love seeing you in this costume and besides,” she made a meaningful pause there, “..bunny costumes are a total classic! And once easter comes around, you can rewear it. It’s recyclable – you’re not only fashionable, but also environmentally conscious!” The spark in her eyes ended up convincing the demon lady and Nuala paid her generously for both the bunny outfit and the good consultation.

And wouldn’t you have known it – the lady hadn’t scammed her. The people did love Nuala’s costume and she was getting appreciative looks and compliments left and right. Equipped with new-found confidence, the thief headed for one of Samhain’s more populated districts when she heard a voice call out – and her eyes caught a familiar sight.

Purple eyes widened in surprise and Nuala’s lips parted for a moment – not too far from her stood Zane; a strange man whose acquaintance she already had the pleasure of making in the past. The eccentric mage had recently become her guild mate (and therefor her responsibility), which is why she decided to only spend a few more minutes on the sidelines, watching him with an amused smile while he made a fool out of himself. The thief found the dark-haired man incredibly difficult to read and even now she couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not. It wasn’t until she spotted a hint of blood glistening at his temple that she stepped forward, grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him away from the crowd he had attracted.

“An idiot is who you are,” the woman said with a snarl and ungently put her hand on his jaw, twisting his face so she could inspect the wound. “Did you hurt yourself?” She knew he did, but Nuala had to clarify in case someone had actually attacked him. Before he could respond, she smacked him across the face. “And why are you dressed like that – you can’t just dress as other people’s race, that’s messed up! We have vampires in the guild, you know.” Nuala let out an exasperated sigh.