Cupid's Arrow

Lights. Colors. Sounds. There are so many of them, so incredibly many. They swirl around Rave's head. Too many lights, not enough darks. Er, not enough darkness. Too many bodies. Far too many bodies, too little space. Space? Did she belong in a space like this? No. No she didn't belong in an enclosed space. A cage? No. No cages. Fuck, not this again. Shit, she'd trapped herself. Another day, another cage. The cage... the cage is her? She is the cage? No. Not quite. Could she be? Yes. Would she be? No.

A knife! No. Shit. That's a knife, not a security blanket. Could it be both? Fuck. Maybe that's right. Maybe it is both! Yes. The knife is both. The emotional support rusty knife. Ha. Yes, good. Too good. Very good. Rave is good. Rave can be good.

She does her best to be good. A game. Yes, there was a game. Darts. She should be good at darts. Yes, the darts. Lifting one. Heavy. Not heavy enough. Aren't carnival games rigged anyway? Maybe. Maybe Rave was rigged. The darts. She could throw the darts... the darts at the dog? No. Right, no, not at the dog. At the board. Can't throw the darts at the dog. Throw the dart at the board. Right. Yes, Rave threw the dart at the board. That was... that was right? Probably right. Something about sinking a ship. Battleship? No. Darts. Shit. Okay, sounds right.

NPC:
The cowdog claps his paws together happily. ”Oooo so exciting! Come on over here, gorgeous, and we’ll see what you’ve won!” He plucks the little paper from where the balloon once was, reading the text there.

He hands you a delicious-looking iced cake.

This item provides a post acceptance dire height pass