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Post by Flare on Mar 3, 2020 17:07:57 GMT -6
Flare watched the creature, the snake thing get to its feet, brushing its clothing free of dust and torn up grass blades, straightening up and looking him in the eye. The mask which had once concealed his face was back in place or just never fell off. "Fine, get it over with, for we have a walk ahead of us. The temple is in the city, but clear on the other side of the city from this planar shift of reality." Needless ot say for some who once had skin, cracking your knuckles when you rhands are scaled feels very strange. He had to be careful and brace himself in order to land the best punch possible. He landed his punch as hard as possibly could, sending the other one into the tree again. Either it wasn't very hard, or the creature just was feigning it wasn't as hard as possible. It spat into the grass, massaging a going to be bruised jaw. "Happy now." Yes. march 20 12.20 -end of trip for now, and finds monarch on the way out-
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Post by Renathan on Mar 3, 2020 17:37:43 GMT -6
A strange staff 'grows' from the grass, eventually being spat out. Nearby, a lantern hangs from a branch.
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Post by Flare on Mar 15, 2020 21:30:25 GMT -6
The dryad stumbles from the grove, trembling. The giant monster and the mother of nyssa, of the trees, would be fighting it out. She feared for the grove, for the home of old earth ones but she had a job to do. The figure being held to her chest was very thin; very weak. He needed help. Help was something she could do. She headed out of the grove out into the mansion’s grounds. Half a mind to not be anywhere in the open, for if any wayward monsion looters came forth, that it would not work at all. But fresh water, a quiet place to rest and something to heal with. She needed that. Otherwise this was very slim... she could sense a faint pulse of energy.. of the earth deep within the figure. There was no turning back now... and this one would surely freeze with how little it had...not on. March 21 1.20
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Post by Flare on Mar 15, 2020 21:58:28 GMT -6
Fast forward a few hours, into a small grassy spot in the back yard of the mansion. Its beside a running brook and has a private little area. The dryad might be mistaken by other humans for a sprite, sprinting and bounding through the grasses and the trees, a small gourd on her hip, seeking things. Coming back under to the area. Half wrapped in some sort of covering, the thin pale humanoid lay in the grass, mostly cleaned of ichor, but so very thin... She took great care to roll the figure onto their side and clean the open holes on their back. The wounds were beginning to clot by now. The missing leg no longer bleeding out but angry, red and raw. Dark circles colored the pale latte colored skin under the eyes. If it wasn’t a running brook that probably filled soething else, he could be laid in the water to rinse and cool him. March 22 2.20
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Post by Flare on Mar 15, 2020 22:00:29 GMT -6
A lingering thought...why was everything so cold. He hadn’t felt such cold from ...ever really. Especially in the feet. His feet were cold, around the toes. His toes curl into the sole of his feet, drawing the knees closer to warm while resting. Burying his feet into the soft pillow lining of his barrel. ...foot. The thing was, although resting with eyes closed and body as relaxed as allowed, his mind whirled, the ‘magic sense’ creeping on the edge of his resting thoughts. It was hard to allow his head to relax. If he shifted onto his back, the twin wounds around his shoulder blades would wake him with stabbing pains. Onto the right side, and his pelvis would scream out, even… even like that. Only on his stomach or left side could he not feel like something drilling a sharp object within his back. The figure stirred, his eyes unfocused adn fluttering. March 23 3.20
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Post by Flare on Mar 15, 2020 22:01:15 GMT -6
A lingering thought...why was everything so cold. He hadn’t felt such cold from ...ever really. Especially in the feet. His feet were cold, around the toes. His toes curl into the sole of his feet, drawing the knees closer to warm while resting. Burying his feet into the soft pillow lining of his barrel. ...foot. The thing was, although resting with eyes closed and body as relaxed as allowed, his mind whirled, the ‘magic sense’ creeping on the edge of his resting thoughts. It was hard to allow his head to relax. If he shifted onto his back, the twin wounds around his shoulder blades would wake him with stabbing pains. Onto the right side, and his pelvis would scream out, even… even like that. Only on his stomach or left side could he not feel like something drilling a sharp object within his back. The figure stirred, his eyes unfocused adn fluttering. Hardly aware of the surroundings... but his head wasn’t whirlling normally. March 23 3.20
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Post by Flare on Mar 15, 2020 22:02:20 GMT -6
there was an inbetween... the figure sank into darkness once again, drawn beneath the surface again. He dreamed of endless sands, crossing them as if hovering over the dunes. Of the desert city of his memories...the colorfully decorated sandstone buildings, bustling with all manners of tumaian and the ssa… The hovering movement takes a dive to fly through the city, through the people, through the market… landing softly through the crowds before a side street. The hovering passed down the street through a door of a small building with a black banner by the door. Banners communicated a lot between your neighbors here. This black banner… represented a passing. White was new life, a birth in the family. And other colors held overly different significance. This was a banner with a substantial amount of weather beaten-ness. The sun’s harsh desert rays lightening the black woolen cloth to a ligher warm black than the cold black of newness. March 24 4.20
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Post by Flare on Mar 15, 2020 22:04:37 GMT -6
Whomever had put this banner out either had no interest in removing it, or there were still present passings; the view sweeps inside. Its moderately furnished inside; wooden table, chairs for four, a sitting room for two. The two bedchambers stood empty and unused. There is a feeling of emptiness, like this house has been empty for some time now. Why. There is a fine layer of dustlike sand on everything, but no smell of rot. The two bedchambers stand unused and sand-dusty. One has a black banner inside. Along with a… an old and faded picture of what viers could nto see. Outside, voices. The view drifts outside. A few old men with their cup and dice playing outside, gossiping. {Tjat there house get taken up bhy new folk yet?
Nahp, just empty like the Last time. Its still in the famiyl name, but nobody is there to take up the mantle. Remember, the missers and missus were nearly run out of town.
I forget, whay?
Their only kid branded and killed as a traitor. Whole family was suspected of misdoing. Ostrichized, held under suspicions. I think they fled after the execution when the general ordered a manhunt
Ahhh. Right. Nobody’ll buy that home,too much gossip around it. Ptiy, the &&*&&*’s were good people. Law abidin, how’d they manage to have a traitor so close…
Nobdbody knows} the faceless old men continue their cup and dice game. Outside the dream, there were tears. March 25 5.20
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Post by Flare on Mar 15, 2020 22:10:07 GMT -6
Empty. Abandoned. A nest with no birds left. A clenched feeling of sadness, of lonlines. Drifting away from the empty home to another home, which looked living in. But one look told him that a snitch lived here. A ‘core’ banner by the door, and a note posted of ‘information on the poisoning core member case, contact ‘genral slener snout’. There was no evidence that an older youth had lived here, the room had been erased, like the person themselves erased. Not even a wayward rock. Nobody lived in this room anymore, and had been cast out. So they hasn’t returned home... had they escaped? R-.... The dream… ends. His eyes flutter open, blinking in semi darkness. Each sense slowly coming to the surface. His breath comes slow, shallowly. His first feeling... is cold. The air is cool enough to chill his skin. ‘You are wakening.’ A voice comes from nearby... where? March 26 6.20
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Post by Lethalia on Mar 16, 2020 1:27:17 GMT -6
A set of chocolate coins awaiting the sleeping, cheery and sweet and at odds with the visceral dreaming.
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Post by Flare on Mar 16, 2020 9:27:16 GMT -6
Something flits to his side, into the line of view. ITs small, about the size of a teenage human just starting a growth spurt; with peachy pale skin and delicate pink eyes. The dainty slightly tall fae kneels, clothed in petals? A very small hand brushes over his forehead, brushing aside the thatch of dirty red hair that covered it. He can’t keep his eyes off the thing, but the branches sprouting from her head like a pair of antlers were hard to ignore. They had tiny cherry blossoms. The hand trails down the unruined side of his face, her head angling in little head tilts as she explores the contures of his face. Her fingers keep leaving the edge of his right side, although this time he can see her a bit better with that eye.... that side. The air is chilling on his face, but her fingers are almost like ghosts. She makes a ‘shh’ noise, while exploring his face. The still figure can only blink... and draw shallow breaths. March 27 7.20
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Post by Flare on Mar 16, 2020 10:26:48 GMT -6
’I have never seen a human so close...never before.’ She makes soft noises while speaking, although he doesn’t ‘hear’ the voice with his ears. Its the voice of the earth, the forest. ‘forgitve my intrusive touch. You are very warm.’ The inside of his mind is confused and not quite connecting the idea of being ‘warm’ together with being petted? He started to try to talk, but she shook her head sadly. ‘Please, do not speak. You need your energy to recover and rest.’ The hand removes itself from his face, and out of focus briefly, only to lift his now not red drenched hand and arm into view. Its... disorienting, but his pale latte colored skin is a welcome sight, somehow. The skin is dry, drawn and pinched around the hands, with barely any muscle in the arm and hand. Not quite skin and bones, but if in the right state of mind, could accurately point out all the bones in his forearm. March 28 8.20
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Post by Flare on Mar 16, 2020 10:39:06 GMT -6
what is sort of noticed is an angry red gash across the arm that she lifted up into view. The wound is clotted, raw and angry looking. There isn’t any look of infection though. The hand is lowered, to rest his arm over his chest, which felt very thin and bony too. Questions... small questions bubbled up inside his head slowly, like a slow burble. She seemed to know he was questioning. Confused. ‘We are outside the grove of the Great Mother Tree. The month of new life is here, but the season has not yet upon. You have been sleeping for a long time, child of sand and earth.’ He blinks at the information. New life... glancing about at the semi light of the incline. Another question, as his released limb travels downward, noticing a feeling of... moss maybe? Half covering him. But there is still only one thin feeling of a leg beneath. ...that wasn’t a dream then. March 29 9.20
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Post by Flare on Mar 16, 2020 10:58:00 GMT -6
’I would not try to get up... you were...injured when we escaped the grove. The wound is clotted but the limb is gone.’ She whispers. Contrary to the thought of the child of sand going into a panicked frenzy, he just seemed... unattached. Like his mind had not woken up to the point of understanding what had happened. The small hand brushes his bare chest, the tooth necklace still there, somehow. ‘The power you have now... if you use it, it will aid you.’ Blink. No real response? ‘Look inside you. Deep inside.’ He closes his eyes, exhaling shallowly. There was something deep inside... and it felt...right. Like he’d been immsersed in it since ever. Reaching out an incorporeal hand to grasp the feeling. I’VE BEEN WAITING The youth’s whole body pulsed. Stiffened, his eyes dilating with pain and confusion and fear? What was happening? March 30 10.20
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Post by Renathan on Mar 16, 2020 11:50:11 GMT -6
A single paper lantern blows in the wind.
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