Leofric hummed cheerfully under his breath, peering into the bathroom mirror while daubing at the points of his antlers with a long-handled paintbrush. He’d finished the left-hand one already, the dark-red corn syrup staining several tines in a strategically grisly spectacle. A couple more tines on the right and some splatter on his face and shirt and he’d be set. And maybe this year, Zita’d be done picking out her best devil-fairy outfit first.
It was not Halloween. It was, however, the only day where the blonde boy ever willingly woke up before dawn: Saturday after the second week of classes, commonly known among the student body as Hell Night.