”Aw, come on.”

Roland had just returned from a recent venture, the relative ease upon which the Peacemaker decides peace is kept something he can at least appreciate if this was to be his afterlife. But the Poppikins - three of them, since it’s always in three’s - were no longer the same pet-like creatures that he was perhaps a day or two away from allowing inside his humble home. No. They had devolved into something far more sinister, and they were not only ready to spring dangerous looking vines across the gap between Roland and his abode, but they had their attention on jumping straight onto him, unrecognizing the kindness he had given them just days ago. He’s adept at dodging, thankfully, and misses the two that come to attack. The third one is more lucky, rotting vines wrapped around his ankle as they attempt to drag him back towards them, for what he can safely assume, as their dinner.

But rotting vines mean they might be easier to detach from, so he kicks with all his might, using his other leg to hold him in place. The force breaks him free from the vine, but it doesn’t do anything about ridding his home or the vicinity from the threat nearby.

Roland sighs, rolling with punches. “Zombie pumpkins? At least I can’t dock points from originality. That’s new. Hm.”

The nostalgia of autumn, whether here or there, real or fake, has Roland thrown into the same sentiments. Staring upwards at a particularly sturdy looking tree bearing candy apples coated in caramel, sprinkles, and marshmallows, his normally straight-faced facade softens around the edges, his lips turned upward in a small smile. Those who walk close enough can hear him, chime just under his breath - “Just like when I was a kid. Heh.”

Roland shakes his head and sighs to himself.

“Except you actually had to coat the apples in the caramel before you ate them, not before you picked them.”

Whether or not such a statement seems odd - for someone as young looking as he is commenting about his childhood as if decades had passed (and perhaps they have) - Roland takes another moment to stare up at the trees, wind blowing leaves into the air, until he decides its time to leave. A part of him wants to pick from the tree, to eat and be merry, but how could he when he had so much to explore yet? So much to think about it, if his return did nothing, if it all went to waste and everything was still gone?

Might be a good idea to pick an apple for the guy instead, if you would be so kind?

This is what you get for giving in, Roland thinks to himself in spite. He's in dour spirits, for obvious reasons.

Sat by a bench, overlooking the frozen lake, he would have painted the perfect picture of serenity, had he not been, strangely enough despite all his layers, uncharacteristically cold, and a fallen victim to the pixies who had enchanted the trees. Between his lips is a candy cane, its stripes alluring, the curved end of it providing ample view if Roland crossed his eyes long enough to see past his nose. His fingers are trying to pry it off, and he's been licking from the other end where it hangs for quite some time, but to no avail.

He's not only cold, he's stuck with candy to his mouth. He sighs heavily, rubbing his temples. Whenever he attempts to speak, it's barely audible through the candy. A hard lesson learned, but one he would like to end, immediately.

In fact, he's so desperate for this thing to come off his lips that he's probably asking or calling for attention from the nearest person around. Someone's got to know how to reverse this ridiculous spell (?).

ooc: Hit me with your best shot! Message me on this journal for any questions. Mostly just testing the vibe, but not voicetesting the character :) I usually go with most prompts, if anyone has any.