[Gaston never got to see the invitation for the party. He doesn't use his journal, because the magic which would allow him to understand messages without having to read them honestly just makes these things even less appealing. Books combined with magic are the worst of both worlds. In fact, he hates just about everything about this place and he'd go home if he had, you know, a living body to go back to.
Over the past weeks of being here, he's mostly been sticking to himself as he tries to adjust to this miserable new environment. Tonight, however, he's been out hunting. The woods are usually silent. USUALLY. The flow of people headed towards a brightly-lit castle ruin that calm and draw Gaston's attention. Once he approaches, he even hears music.]
[A: Outside]
[With both his pistol and his bow and arrows now slung over his shoulders, he's slowly approaching the castle. But not by walking along the main road, oh no. Instead, he's moving through the rose garden, trampling some of the flowers as he goes. A party is all well and good, but he still remembers the last time he was at a castle like this one. For now, he just wants to observe exactly what's going on here.
So yes, needless to say, there is a guy wearing a bearskin and carrying several weapons hiding in the bushes outside the castle. That's not creepy at all.]
[B: Main Hall]
[What eventually lures Gaston inside is not the merriment, nor even any stares or discussions he might've gotten from passing guests. Nope, it was the notion of food and drink. He's not expecting people to sing his praises the second he walks in, because it's not like a bunch of strangers could know how amazing he is. What he does expect, at the very least, is to be welcomed.
And he is welcomed as soon as he walks through the door. By a talking clock.
So he yelps loudly and recoils backwards, into whoever happened to be standing behind him. Being very big and very weighty, that might not be a fun time for the other person.]
[C: Kitchen]
[He's only been inside for about ten minutes and already, Gaston is having a bad time. The talking furniture is hitting a bit too close to home for his liking. The clever thing to do would've been to leave immediately, but Gaston's not clever. He's only contrary. Walking away would be cowardly and he wants to get something out of this, so he's made his way into the kitchen to get food. (Dining room? Pshaw. He's going straight to the source.)
So now he's in a hefty argument with the oven about some juicy turkey legs.]
I don't care if it's for the other guests, you accursed hunk of metal! No one asked for your opinion! Just spit it out already!
Gaston | Bearskin
Over the past weeks of being here, he's mostly been sticking to himself as he tries to adjust to this miserable new environment. Tonight, however, he's been out hunting. The woods are usually silent. USUALLY. The flow of people headed towards a brightly-lit castle ruin that calm and draw Gaston's attention. Once he approaches, he even hears music.]
[A: Outside]
[With both his pistol and his bow and arrows now slung over his shoulders, he's slowly approaching the castle. But not by walking along the main road, oh no. Instead, he's moving through the rose garden, trampling some of the flowers as he goes. A party is all well and good, but he still remembers the last time he was at a castle like this one. For now, he just wants to observe exactly what's going on here.
So yes, needless to say, there is a guy wearing a bearskin and carrying several weapons hiding in the bushes outside the castle. That's not creepy at all.]
[B: Main Hall]
[What eventually lures Gaston inside is not the merriment, nor even any stares or discussions he might've gotten from passing guests. Nope, it was the notion of food and drink. He's not expecting people to sing his praises the second he walks in, because it's not like a bunch of strangers could know how amazing he is. What he does expect, at the very least, is to be welcomed.
And he is welcomed as soon as he walks through the door. By a talking clock.
So he yelps loudly and recoils backwards, into whoever happened to be standing behind him. Being very big and very weighty, that might not be a fun time for the other person.]
[C: Kitchen]
[He's only been inside for about ten minutes and already, Gaston is having a bad time. The talking furniture is hitting a bit too close to home for his liking. The clever thing to do would've been to leave immediately, but Gaston's not clever. He's only contrary. Walking away would be cowardly and he wants to get something out of this, so he's made his way into the kitchen to get food. (Dining room? Pshaw. He's going straight to the source.)
So now he's in a hefty argument with the oven about some juicy turkey legs.]
I don't care if it's for the other guests, you accursed hunk of metal! No one asked for your opinion! Just spit it out already!