|
|
Post by Thorn on Oct 2, 2019 15:40:58 GMT -5
Ahhh they're so cute, June! And I especially love the dress on the left. Am all for good sweet sibling dancetimes! <3
|
|
|
|
Post by Breakingchains on Oct 2, 2019 19:46:10 GMT -5
I'm late, but here's yesterday's for "Beginnings!"
Barnabas Fay had just turned three. It was the first day that he put his hands to the fire.
He would remember Mama’s screams and tears. He did not remember her swearing, or the ache in his ribs as she pulled him from the bonfire. He would not remember the confusion in her eyes as she turned his unburned hands over in hers, over and over and over. He would not remember her thanking the saints for his safety.
Two weeks later came the second day that Barnabas Fay put his hands to the fire.
This time, he would remember Mama’s cursing, one day looking back--words he’d never heard before ringing in his ears as he laughed in delight. He took hold of the flames, splashing them onto his face like water, into his powder-puff hair. He remembered the trembling in her hands as she carried him to douse him in the sink, the itchy craggy texture of his burned and soggy sleeves, the fear in her eyes as she turned his hands over. And over. And over.
On the third day, Mama took him to the priest. The priest said some words and sprinkled water on him. His mother hushed him when he laughed. Barnabas never stopped watching the fire. But he did stop touching it, for a time.
On the fourth day, three years later, Barnabas Fay did not put his hands to the fire. He brought the fire to his hands. He stood and watched in quiet concentration as flame burst forth from nothing, grew when he spoke, stilled when he stilled his thoughts. Barnabas was still bad at words. He held his hands up for Mama’s inspection.
He would remember her looking on in silence, watching the flames with him.
|
|
|
|
Post by Twillie on Oct 2, 2019 20:38:18 GMT -5
I've also got a belated "Beginnings" thing. Nothing too deep, I just fell sucker to the idea of drawing my characters as babies x3  If I could, I'd draw baby Cherry hatched, since the egg design is kind of a cheap way out x3 It'll have to wait until another day, though, as I just don't have the time to play around with a Neo-style baby bird design. Also, I wanted to play around with a different hairstyle for Jonathon's mom, but I think it made her look way younger than she actually was, whoops. She looks fresh off of a bridesmaid party, lol. |
|
|
|
Post by ♥ Azzie on Oct 2, 2019 21:49:10 GMT -5
Day 2: Dance! Thank you so much Moni for giving me this idea! On the whole, Karo rather liked being a contestant on Hero City.
The costumes were fun, and there were plenty of friends to be made- and the fans’ appreciation and warm wishes didn’t hurt either. It was dangerous, certainly, but life in Heraclia was dangerous either way. Being part of the show simply meant you were better at fighting back.
It was an interesting life, and Karo was glad they’d joined up. Still, there were a few things that made them question it. And none more so than network-hosted parties to which they were obliged, under contract, to go.
Ordinarily, Karo quite liked dancing. It was good exercise, and a good opportunity to socialize. But dancing in their spring-heeled gymnastics shoes was another animal all together, and it was all they could do to keep from tripping- never mind tripping somebody else! |
|
|
|
Post by Gelquie on Oct 2, 2019 23:06:30 GMT -5
OCtober Day 2 - Dance - Elin(Thanks to Twillie for the inspiration!) It had been far too long since her last Campfire Night. And it felt different this time.
She didn't even have a proper last one, as her last campfire night was not long before the town of Wickerham suspended them, on account of the Famine. The town was so stretched for supplies and too busy attempting to ensure their own survival that the feeling of community had deteriorated to individualism.
That in itself was difficult, but not nearly as much as the famine. Everyone just quietly understood that no one could afford to do it anymore. Nor could anyone strike up the cheer when people were literally dying.
Her family couldn't place when Campfire Nights started up again. And obviously, Elin wasn't there for it, having spent the last few years in Medieville during the Famine, and then choosing to stay. This wasn't the first night since the Famine, but it was the first one for her since her childhood.
She remembered Campfire nights of the past. People gathered for gossip, stories, dancing, courting. Kids used them as an opportunity for games, or perhaps dancing of their own. All around a fire created for the community, where everyone participated in keeping it alive for as long as they wished.
In many ways, this Night was still like that. But there was a tone to it somehow.
The fire was quieter, tended to carefully to take advantage of every log. There was always a period of silence where someone remembered someone who was gone, or a story of a time during famine that one did not have the courage to share. It was still so soon.
Apparently, that somber tone among the town, especially as they all struggled to rebuild their community, was why it took so long for Campfire Nights to resume.
No one was ready.
It had gotten better over time, apparently. It was getting better. Connections gradually expanded, or were rekindled, and grew stronger than ever. People gradually opened up. Children who survived and were too young to remember went about the activities with cheer. And of course, there were always activities everyone was willing to get into, anything to stave off the sorrow that the silence at home could bring. The tall tales. The games. The dancing.
For a while, Elin couldn't bring herself to join. Everything felt too different. She was too young for child's games, and she felt she missed a whole stage of life among the younger teenagers. But most of all, it still reminded her of the sorrow, and the tension in the air hung over her. She mostly attempted to participate in conversations as best as she could, at least to facilitate others.
The music began, and so did the dancing. Suddenly, something shifted. Despite the somber tone, the tension in the air portraying the unspoken sorrow and trauma, at that moment, everyone lost themselves. Let it all go for a while. As if they had all agreed that perhaps, at least for these moments, this was a time to let go of worries and just enjoy life. All the better to remember what it felt like. So that perhaps people will know what to look for.
Maybe they had a point.
Elin hesitated. But she had been encouraged to be a part of it. Not simply dwell on all the troubles. Nor to dwell on the fact that she no longer felt connected to this place.
She didn't have to. Not for this moment.
It took some courage. She didn't rise right away. But finally, she got to her feet, and joined the circle in a community dance.
As the fire radiated its heat onto her skin and her blood pumped to allow her legs to follow the beat, with everyone participating in such a jovial atmosphere... In this moment, Elin forgot everything.
There was simply the dance, and the dance partners around her, all in a community.
It may not have been what she expected to get out of tonight. But at least for this moment, it was exactly what she needed.
|
|
|
|
Post by Blueysicle on Oct 2, 2019 23:54:09 GMT -5
Scenes involving a lot of action tend to take me a long time (read: weeks or months) to write to my satisfaction, so I think this is about as good as I'm going to be able to do in the span of a couple hours. xD Day 2: Dance “Again!”
Lampyri picked herself up off the the floor and resumed her fighting stance. Glowstick likewise prepared himself for another round.
Their total lifetime record: 467 wins. 466 losses. 621 draws. His favor.
They clashed. Their usual weapons sitting against the wall, it was just their hands and feet. Jab, cross, block, sweep...
Glowstick hit the ground.
467 wins. 467 losses. 621 draws. Dead even.
Sometimes their spars could last for several minutes, while other times they were over quickly. But they were never done just once a session. No, they needed several bouts in order to get an accurate read on each others' condition. Neither would settle for anything less.
As Glowstick stood up, Lampyri saw the brief glint of overconfidence in his eyes from his prior victory vanish. His mouth hung open as he panted. But after a shoulder stretch, he readied his hands again. “I'm not done yet.”
A grin came over Lampyri's face. She wouldn't have it any other way. Though her chest heaved as her breath became scarce, she mirrored Glowstick. “Last one, then.”
There was a second of stillness between them. With their all-time records at a dead heat, there was much at stake in the next round. The most valuable prize of all: bragging rights.
They resumed. Both started with more aggressive strikes, looking to seize a quick win. Neither ceded any ground.
But Lampyri couldn't block and parry forever. She slipped past Glowstick's next strike. From that point on, she fell back on her specialty: mobility.
By slipping and bobbing and weaving, Lampyri refused a single one of her opponent's blows to land. Though her wings were folded against her back, her feet barely felt the ground. Her legs moved as if they had a mind of their own while she put all her focus into watching and predicting incoming strikes, then dodging accordingly.
An opening appeared, and she struck. Glowstick sharply turned and evaded it.
He began to play her game. When one attacked, the other dodged. With each punch came a slip, and each kick a duck. They spun around, over, and beside one another.
Eventually, their strikes became fewer and farther in between. Soon, their hands became at ease, and they put the remainder of their energy into their footwork, as each sought to match and respond to the others' movements.
After some time, exhaustion finally set in, and they paused. For a little while, they stared one another down in silence. When it broke, it was when Glowstick remarked with a hint of a laugh, “We're not even sparring anymore, are we?”
Lampyri returned a chuckle, “No, not really.”
That was that, then. It seemed that their record would have to be left as it was for the time being. Lampyri didn't mind. She supposed she could admit that they were evenly matched – at least until their next session. |
|
|
|
Post by Thorn on Oct 3, 2019 5:00:04 GMT -5
Day 3- Feast!Chains suggested I write about 'Insensitive Lizard' some time this month, and when I saw 'feast' I immediately thought of when the party tried to bribe him with a deer leg. While walking to work, I had the idea for an exchange between Arcaito and Bumbleberry. So when I came home, I wrote this! (for those outside of EuroAtlantis: Arcaito is an archfey ('Lord of the Wild Spaces', a disruptive jerk), and Bumbleberry is a lesser fey in service to him. The party never actually asked for Bumbleberry's name, but I liked it too much to not share after he left their company.) Arcaito held up a rabbit carcass. "Please focus."
It was half-eaten, but that was never going to deter Bumbleberry. It was fresh, and it was a rabbit, and those were the Most Important Details. He licked his lips.
"The armored-one was angry at the tall-one," he proclaimed.
"Angry like I’m angry at you right now, or otherwise?"
“A different angry. Lots of shouting. Can I feastfeast now please?"
Arcaito sighed, drumming his bloodied nails against a gnarled branch.
"What about the others?"
"I think shocked. I think the tall-one said a very shocking thing. The armored-one left with a horse and some prisoner-ones."
He bleated sadly, snuffling at the rabbit. Arcaito continued to hold it just out of reach.
“Did the others choose Meallan? The 'tall-one'?”
He shook his head. “No. They all found each other again. Found some centaurs as well.”
Arcaito stiffened. “You should have started with that.”
“Some centaurs, yes!” Bumbleberry bobbed about as he spoke. “And when we had seen the centaurs, they said that the one called Anthony put you to sleep. They thought that was why I attacked Anthony. And then they let me leave.”
Arcaito frowned. “He didn’t put me to sleep.”
“Your Chosen?”
“Don’t be nosy.”
He bit into the rabbit. Bumbleberry whined and pressed himself flat against the ground.
“Aww...”
Arcaito flung him a second. “I’m not done with you. Sit with me, Bumbleberry.”
The lizard leaped up beside him, the second rabbit clamped firmly in his jaws, and with surprising dexterity scrambled up onto a branch and swayed there just above his master's head.
“Thank-you!” Bumbleberry chirped.
“Don’t thank me yet. Now, I would very much like to hear more about this disagreement.” then I realised tomorrow's prompt is nature, used Arcaito for totally the wrong one!
|
|
|
|
Post by June Scarlet on Oct 3, 2019 19:25:44 GMT -5
A snippet featuring Storm the Shadow Wocky and Silence the Winged Kookith (you can see them here: fav.me/db9dbag ). I always meant to put the pair of them in the petpet spotlight, but never got around to it, and now it's closed down for a revamp. Anyway, this is a snippet of that story. Feast
The Wocky stole around the corner into the dirt alleyway in Meridell. She looked down at the savory pie in her hands. Perfect.
She sat down and dug in with both paws, hungry.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed something pale and moving. Storm looked up to see a Winged Kookith hopping towards her, with hope in its eyes. "Pah, hungry, are ya? 'ere," she said, tossing some crust to the small petpet.
The pale Kookith fluttered-hopped to the bit of food, and ate it up. Then it looked at Storm with pleading eyes.
"Pah, jus' come on in, I got plenty."
The petpet seemed to understand, for it hopped onto Storm's knee and nibbled at the pie. Storm laughed. "Aye, I got plenty to spare, ya know, 'cause the piemaker was generous 'nough to donate to a good cause, so I'm willin' to do th' same."
The Kookith tilted its head slightly.
"Not to say that the piemaker knew they were doin' such a good deed, 'o course." Storm put a finger to her face in a shushing motion. "You seem like th' silent type, though, so tha' can be our little secret."
The winged petpet looked aghast. Storm looked to the side. "Not like I had a choice, 'kay? Anyway, ya want this food, or not?"
The Kookith considered this for another moment before digging into the pie again. Storm rubbed its head and smiled. "Yeah... ya understand. Ya understand. Now leave some o' this feast fer me too!"
***
Storm is a Thief, and Silence is her petpet. Silence acts as her conscious, yet is also extremely loyal to Storm. This means that Silence will encourage Storm not to steal while at the same time helping her not to get caught. I just love their dynamic.
|
|
|
|
Post by Blueysicle on Oct 4, 2019 0:13:29 GMT -5
I envy you guys that are able to keep your prompts nice and concise. Me, I'm struggling to keep mine under two pages each. 
Day 3: Feast
Flicker was vaguely aware of a concept called “table manners.” But he figured it couldn't be any more important than the food in front of him. One after another, Flicker crammed the mushrooms on his plate into his mouth. Baked with garlic, onions, and cheese stuffed into the caps... He simply couldn't bear to have just one or two; he needed the next explosion of flavor as quick as possible. “It's so good...” Flicker mumbled through a mouthful, all while he could feel small tears well up in the corners of his eyes. “I haven't had food like this since...” He paused. As he chewed, he rummaged through his memories. Eventually, he exclaimed, “I've never had food like this!” Dimitri gave a shaky smile as he scratched the back of his head. “Thanks... That's, uh... really flattering...” All throughout dinner that day – the first that Flicker and Wingen joined in on since they arrived in Central Cavern – three pairs of eyes were fixed on the glowing Buzz as he ate. Lumin, Lampyri, and Dimitri watched as they were taken completely aback by the ravenous and rapid pace Flicker's food vanished. They were so distracted that they had barely touched their own portions, while Flicker already began to dig into the larger plate of mushrooms sitting at the center of the table. Next to him, Wingen made steady -but slow- progress on his own food. Unlike the others, he wasn't fazed much by his brother's lack of etiquette. His only acknowledgement towards the spectacle was when he muttered to Flicker, “We're really gonna need to work on this...” Lumin heard his remark and had given a slight nod in agreement. As Flicker reached out for another helping, Lumin was finally compelled to speak, “Flicker, I think it would be a good idea to slow down...” “And maybe think about quitting sometime soon. You're going to make yourself sick,” Lampyri added more bluntly. Flicker didn't pay them much attention. The food tasted great and he could handle more. What bad could possibly come out of it? * * *
An hour later, Flicker found himself laying on the couch on his side, with his knees folded up and his head lowered. He clamped his eyes shut, clutched his stomach, and moaned as he tried to will the bursting pain away. “We told you,” he heard Lampyri remark with a not-too-subtle hint of a melody in her voice. Flicker only grunted at her in response; he was hardly in the mood to argue. Flicker heard footsteps approach him, then felt a hand on his shoulder. He cracked an eye open and saw Lumin standing next to him. “I have some medicine in the cabinet if you need it.” Flicker groaned at the thought of it and shut his eyes even tighter. “I don't wanna put anything else in my mouth...” He was so keenly aware of the nausea building up that he was reluctant to even speak that one sentence in fear of more than just words coming out. “Just don't eat so much so fast next time,” Wingen said to him from the opposite couch. A few seconds passed, as Flicker waited for a safe moment to respond, “Yeah... but when are we ever gonna get food like that again?” “Uh, every day?” Dimitri said. Flicker picked his head up and looked at Dimitri in disbelief. “' Every day?'” “Yeah... I usually cook dinner when I'm not out on a job,” Dimitri replied. He took on a concerned expression. “And you know, that was a pretty normal amount of food for five people plus seconds.” “It was?” Flicker could hardly believe it. That much food in one day was ordinary? There was a bit of silence. Eventually, Lumin asked Flicker delicately, “What were you used to before?” “Huh? Oh, nothing like today,” Flicker said nonchalantly as he began to explain. “Granite didn't really let us eat a whole lot. And if I did something stupid or if I made him mad, he'd tell me I'd have to go without. When he did let me eat, it didn't really taste like much of anything and it was usually cold-” Flicker stopped himself when he picked up on how everyone listened to him as they held a look of dismay in their faces. Wingen -who had experienced it all for an even longer period of time than Flicker- looked to the floor as his ears tilted downwards. Once Flicker took notice of the atmosphere heavy with unease, it pressed down on him and he began to feel it for himself. “But... I guess it doesn't really matter anymore,” Flicker added and cut short any further thoughts on the subject. Though it appeared that the others wanted to say something to him, they reluctantly respected Flicker's wish to drop the matter. After he defeated Granite a couple days ago, Flicker told himself that he'd never have to talk or worry about his experiences with him ever again. But he was beginning to learn that it wasn't that simple. Even if he had no desire to speak of it at length, it was difficult to keep small tidbits of information like that from spilling out from time to time. The more he began to learn about what normalcy felt like, the more he realized exactly how terrible those years in Obsidian Quarry really were. To his surprise, it was hard to adjust to. There was another burst of pain as Flicker felt like his stomach was going to split open. He once again groaned in an effort to keep it under control, but through it he heard Lumin clear his throat. Flicker lifted his head to see Lumin looking back at him with a raised eyebrow. Through his expression alone, Lumin asked again, “The medicine?” Flicker sighed and muttered, “Yeah, I guess...”
|
|
|
|
Post by Thorn on Oct 4, 2019 1:23:53 GMT -5
"Sundresses are anachronistic" wellll...it's fantasy land and also everyone deserves to have the option to look pretty in a sundress! Ursh is my main D&D player character, a half-orc ranger/cleric. They're 5'11" and have an 'Intimidation' proficiency which never actually gets used because they are Not Scary. Gulgg is an orc diplomat. She's 6'6" and Fairly Scary. Garlin (briefly mentioned) is a barely-remembered nature goddess. Day Four: Nature“Would you like to go out to the woods?” Ursh asked, when they’d recited the right prayers and tidied around the shrine.
“Maybe not the woods today,” Gulgg said. “A stroll along the path would be nice. Many sweet-smelling flowers.”
“I like flowers too,” Ursh agreed. “Okay, let’s do that.”
With one last little bow to Garlin they set off along the path with Gulgg, Floral in tow. It was mid-morning and there were plenty of people out and about, including three or four Sentinels of the Raven. Compared to the latter, Ursh felt very small without their armour, but they smiled anyway and put an arm around Gulgg and wondered how it was even legal for her to look so good in a sundress. They’d never seen another orc who could pull that off but somehow, Gulgg managed it, ribbon and all.
They wondered if Gulgg wanted flowerbeds of her own to tend, or if they were just things she liked looking at. They could probably plant some out the back of the Tyrant if Gulgg wanted that. The kinds that attracted bees and butterflies, so that they could have a colorful little patch of liveliness. It would be nice having more plants to tend. Maybe once all this was over, and they didn’t have to worry about being gone for weeks while their flowers died, Ursh could plant some for themself either way.
“Why did you live in a forest?” Gulgg asked out of the blue.
“I never told you?”
“Not really.”
“Huh,” they thought about it. “I guess it never came up. People left me there when I was very little- orcs, I think.”
“So they abandoned a child?”
“I think they had to, maybe? I don’t really know. They didn’t seem like nice people anyway.”
“Because they raided villages, yeah. Not something good people generally do.”
Ursh frowned. “I told you about that part?”
“You did.”
“Huh. But not the rest, that’s...wow okay I’m not good at this.”
“Eh, I’ve met worse.”
“Anyway,” Ursh continued, “then the spirits found me, and I lived with them and Garlin in the forest. So I guess that’s the concise version.”
“Was it weird?”
“I dunno. Was it weird having two normal, fleshy parents like most people?”
“It was fine,” she fixed her gaze on something ahead of them. “If I have kids, I’d definitely rather they had two parents than a collection of formless entities.”
“What about that saying? About it taking a village?”
“It’s not literal, Ursh.”
“I know,” it was their turn to stare very pointedly at some spot in the distance. “But I mean, I think if I had kids, I’d like a lot of people around. Lots of different viewpoints and different styles. People can cover each other’s weaknesses.”
“I guess that’s probably true. Back home, my aunts helped out a lot. My grandfather too until he put his back out. I guess Garlin would make a pretty cool grandparent.”
“She’d be great! She’s taught me pretty much everything I know. I think she could do the same for any hypothetical grandchildren.”
“You know, it would be rude to use a goddess as a free babysitter.”
Ursh frowned, pulling away slightly. “That wasn’t what I meant.”
Gulgg took their hand. “I was making a joke. I know that wouldn’t be in your nature.”
cheesy final line linking back to the title woo |
|
|
|
Post by Moni on Oct 4, 2019 3:10:26 GMT -5
what i wrote for "dance" was slightly spoilery, but i promise you it was cheesy and Bad ok so my OCtober for day 3: feast was weak, it was memes
khamet: feast? i thought you said yeast.
raia: we're making bread, stupid.
khamet: isn't it ironic that we're giving yeast a feast so we can later feast on the yeast?
raia: that's not what irony is.
veryartistic. verygood. |
|
|
|
Post by June Scarlet on Oct 4, 2019 14:16:18 GMT -5
Wraithish is my Wraith Jubjub. I imagine him moving like a black flame, but I've never quite nailed down his design. Maybe because it's fluid, always changing. You might recognize him as a villain from my Ink comic series. But he might also possibly be a forest spirit who plays tricks on those who enter his forest, and far worse to those who would try and damage it. He was at one time, at least, but I'm uncertain if that's where his character will be in the future. But at least in a version of the past, this was who he was. Nature
The Storyweaver had been traveling for a few days now, since the last time she told a story. She didn't know where she was headed; she never did. She just knew that her gift of the story always led her to someone who needed to hear a story from her. And now she was passing through a forest to her next destination.
It was a bright, peaceful forest, full of sunlight and warm-hued trees. Story couldn't help but smile as she strolled along.
A large, purple-glowing, and black mass suddenly swooped down from a tree, contorting into a fearsome maniacal grin. "Boo!"
The Storyweaver jumped back with a scream.
The black flame-like mass started laughing. "Ahahaha, gotcha!"
Story stood there, trying to catch her breath. "You, whew, scared me, wheeze, wraithish one."
The wraithish one twisted upside-down. "That's kind of the point. Now you're in my forest, you'd better behave, or I'll do much worse."
|
|
|
|
Post by Blueysicle on Oct 5, 2019 0:58:37 GMT -5
Good news! If you ever wanted to learn about evolution and troglobites, The Engineer is here to educate you! Or if the idea of a nature documentary narrated by someone that once thought it'd be funny to change a Neopet's color to Ice in Moltara doesn't comfort you, I suppose you could just watch this clip from Planet Earth instead - which is what inspired today's prompt. A cursory glance at Jellyneo Item Database didn't really turn up anything resembling cave salamanders or axolotls, so that's why I ended up using White Scamanders as the next best thing. Yes, I am aware that amphibians and reptiles are very different animals.  Also, I dunno if I'm gonna do the next couple prompts on time. I have ideas for them, but I'm starting to feel a little burned out, so a bit of a break may do me some good. I'll still try to do them, just probably not on their exact day. Day 4: Nature
The system of caves and tunnels that defined Moltara were often characterized by either fire or darkness. However, they were anything but vacant. Did life thrive, even in Moltara? No, it thrived especially in Moltara.
Yes, that applied to the Neopets that built their villages and city-states underground. And in time, Moltara would come to be known as a land of industry. But there were no shortage of wild areas, inhospitable to those that couldn't separate themselves from the comforts and safety of civilization. These remote places, mostly untouched by Neopets, were inhabited by rare and strange creatures.
“Take these petpets before me, for example,” The Engineer spoke in small cave that was empty for all but herself and a writhing mass of white, lizard-like petpets. There were dozens – if not hundreds – of them, climbing over one another. As The Engineer stepped forward, they fled in unison. Though there was little space to run, they kept their distance and reacted to the slightest movements.
“These are a subspecies of petpet that originates from a desert on the other side of the planet. 'Scamanders,' I believe they're called? In their native habitat, they are well-adapted to living among sand dunes, baked under a beating sun. But this population you see here are more suited for living in dark caves that never see a single ray of natural light.
“You may notice that they have no pigment in their skin. And though their senses of touch, hearing, and smell are excellent, they are completely blind. Furthermore, they have slower metabolisms than their cousins and can go without food for longer periods of time. What was well-suited for desert biomes would not necessarily help them to survive in caves. Useless features and senses had to be done away with, so that energy could be spent on more useful adaptations.
“But of course, if you were to compare the first generation of Scamanders that crawled into Moltara and those here now, you would see two radically different creatures. Such adaptations come about after many generations, over the course of thousands – possibly millions – of years.”
Once again, The Engineer began to approach, and the white Scamanders started to flee. But then, quicker than any of the Scamanders could possibly react, she suddenly appeared next to them and grabbed one. The Scamander struggled to break free from her grip, all while she watched its plight in simultaneous amusement and apathy.
“A slow, gradual change...” The Engineer's face twisted a bit in disgust. “I'm sure you can imagine how boring that is. I prefer... a more instantaneous approach.”
At the slight glow of The Engineer's palm, the Scamanders' struggle intensified. Its skin around its neck began to warp and stretch. Once the external gills fully formed, The Engineer gave a small smile in satisfaction.
“You see, left to its own devices, a lifeform – whatever it may be – generally will not change if it is no longer under pressure to do so by its environment. And there is little I hate more than stagnation.”
The Engineer bent down and returned the Scamander to the ground. She then set her sights on the rest of the swarm. Before long, half of the white Scamanders possessed gills, while the other half remained untouched.
“Now, this sort of evolution does not only occur when a species migrates to a new environment. It also occurs after a major event of sorts alters their existing habitat. Those that are best suited to weather such a disaster survive and go on to produce the next generation, while those that cannot perish.”
She eyed a spot in the cave wall. On close inspection, there was a crack from which a small, but steady, trickle of water emerged from. When The Engineer gently shifted a loose rock, the stream quickened. She grinned.
“For instance, Scamanders, whether they dwell in deserts or caves, do not do well around a lot of moisture.”
The Engineer yanked the rock out of the wall and vanished the moment the water burst forth.
Eventually, some time later, biologists would survey that cave in search of the rare white Scamander, only to find that the nearby underground river had flooded it. Though there were no further sightings of the white Scamanders that lived on land, they did find a previously-unknown variant with gills that crawled around at the bottom of the river.
|
|
|
|
Post by Thorn on Oct 5, 2019 3:29:28 GMT -5
I wrote a piece today for 'Lost'! But I'll edit it and post it tomorrow evening, with tomorrow's prompt.
('Bitter' will be an interesting one!)
|
|
|
|
Post by Celestial on Oct 5, 2019 8:24:19 GMT -5
So I got sick and tired of not writing anything and decided to do this. It is word vomit with the explicit idea that I just write and not worry about it being good. And to make it easier, they will all have a theme: these two gods I have invented for a D&D campaign which I like enough to maybe someday use in original work. LostThe grey desert continued to swallow her up. It was time to accept that she was lost. This was the part where she would lie down and wait for death. The only problem with that was that she was already dead.
What had she died of? She could not remember. How long had she been in this place? It had slipped her mind. Time distorted here. Even the rhythm of the sun did not seem to correspond to what she felt was right for a day.
Long ago- or perhaps only a few moments back- she had stood in front of the Raven Queen. The women wreathed in shadow, her face a white, featureless mask, had snatched the spark of life from her mouth.
“Now what?”
“Now, child of the material, you go. I have what I need.”
“But where do I go?”
“Beyond.”
“Is my wife there? My father? My child?”
“Perhaps.”
That sparked a fiery hope in her. She had been wanting to see them for so long. Suddenly, being dead did not seem so bad. “Where is beyond?”
The Raven Queen extended her willowy arm towards the horizon. “There.”
She blinked. There was nothing but dry, grey waves, featureless and endless. “May I please have better instructions, your Majesty?”
“I cannot give you them. That is a place for mortals. I have no reach there. I do not know the beyond.”
“But you are the Raven Queen!”
Her head snapped around. Though she could not see the goddess’s eyes behind her mask, she could feel her fury. It withered her.
“I am a deity. I did not take that way. I remained here.”
“In legends, people have returned. They must know the way.”
“No mortal can withstand the journey more than a few times.”
“Is there anybody who can show me the way?”
The goddess pondered. “No.”
It was clear that speaking to the Raven Queen would get her nowhere. So she set off, driven by the prospect of seeing her loved ones again. Now she wandered, and she wondered if they were also out here somewhere, lost in the beyond. If this even was the beyond.
Was it because she had sinned? She had taken her child and run from her husband to be with the woman who became her wife, after all. But surely it was not a sin to be with the one you truly loved? She had lied too, but all those were for good reasons, whether to save herself or someone else trouble. The churches and cults who preached eternal damnation she had dismissed as fanatics, obsessed with condemning anybody who did not meet their rigorous standards of purity. Were they right?
If they were, perhaps it was better to be stuck here.
She fell into the sand and rolled over on to her back. Above her, the sun was just rising, highlighting the wings of birds circling above her. Vultures, ravens, other carrion birds by the looks of it. What did they even eat here?
Souls. The thought occurred to her almost immediately. She wished she had not asked herself that question. But if she were lost, perhaps it was best to fade away here rather than keep wandering forever. Lying down, she stared into the sand, just barely moving her finger to trade the names of those she loved into the grey ground. Just to show that she was here.
There was a thud in front of her. Sand sprayed in all directions. Instinctively, she coughed and closed her eyes. She had no lungs or eyes to irritate, but one did not shake off the habits of being alive so easily.
When the dust settled, she opened her eyes. In front of her stood an enormous raven, its plumage black as the obsidian she once worked. Looking up, however, she saw its head was not that of a bird but a human. Dark-skinned, his eyes shut, save for one in the centre of his forehead, golden and staring right in front of her.
He took a step forward and instinctively, she edged back.
“What do you want?”
“I am here to take you to where you belong,” he stated, his voice even and monotone.
Something dripped onto the sand in front of her. Blood. Following it path upwards with her gaze, she saw it came from the raven man. He must have had a wound on his neck, beneath that silver band studded with blue stones.
“A-are you alright?”
His face twitched for a second before he seemed to realise. “Yes,” he raised a wing to the silver collar around his neck. “This is how it will always be from now on. It is my price for the knowledge I gained.”
She did not understand what he meant but nodded, unsure if she would get a better explanation. “You are here to…take me?”
“Yes. To where you belong. To the afterlife,” he levelled the gaze of that one gold eye with hers. “Your wife is waiting for you.”
A smile lit up her face. “She is?” immediately her expression fell. “But what of my father? And my child?”
“Your father is elsewhere. Your child I shall find and guide to you.”
“But…the Raven Queen…she said nobody can show me the way. Mortals cannot withstand the journey, and she, as a deity, does not know the beyond.”
“Mortals cannot. But I am not. I gave much to learn the path,” the raven once again gestured with his wing to his collar. “I was brought back from the brink. I can show you the way there. Beyond the gate, it is easier, so I am told. Come.”
Though his expression barely shifted as he spoke, his deep voice was gentle and soothing, like a cat’s purr. Slowly, she nodded and held up her arm. The raven took off and wrapped his feet around it, lifting her to her feet.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “What is your name?”
“Vran,” he replied. “A god of knowledge.”
She blinked. “Forgive my ignorance, but what is a god of knowledge doing guiding the dead?”
“I am the only one who knows the way. The only god to ever go where the divine cannot,” Vran landed in front of her and looked back. “Let us go, Urpi. Your wife is waiting.”
Urpi blinked. “You know my name?” she immediately shook her head. “I suppose, yes, god of knowledge. Please, let’s go,” a grin spread across her face. “I cannot wait to see her again!” |
|
