*I don't know if I want to introduce now or later.*
*Oh well, characters for now.*
Stroth, golden as the sun, is still lying in the sofa in the library, mourning the loss of her and Sparrow's child. The Golden Traitor looks so.. broken, vulnerable, and shook from it all.
Samaritan is punching a punching bag, grumbling as he delivers solid kicks and punches to it, almost tearing the fabric.
Merabelle was walking into the library to grab some more books for Omori’s studies when she saw Stroth. She sits down nearby, she doesn’t know what has happened, but she still needs to be there for her best friend.
Sparrow can be found wandering over, Samaritan has seen him around town, and even if not he’s seen him when he went to apologize. He looked happy then, sure of his choices, and even then just good, this Sparrow looks lost, his tears have dried, but he seems weak.
Stroth looks up, her hair glittering in the library light alongside her tears. "The child's gone.." she said, her voice shaky.
Samaritan raises a brow behind his mask and stops, nodding his head to him "Hello.. are you okay?"
Merabelle scoots closer, holding out her arms “Do you want a hug?” She softly asks them, her eyes full of sympathy and care.
He walks over to the punching bag, looking up to them, his arms slack at his sides before shaking his head slowly “May… I?” He points weakly to the bag.
She shakes her head "I feel.. disgusting.." she says, a look of pure sullen nothingness behind her eyes.
He nods, stepping back.
She nods, putting her arms down, “You… I wish I could have helped… I’m sorry that happened.”
Sparrow begins hitting the bag, as he goes on his emotions show, a cold hatred with every hit. He begins punching hard enough to hurt himself, causing his knuckles to open up as tears leak from his eyes as rage fills every punch.
"Don't feel sorry.. it was all my fault. I'm the reason. I failed Sparrow." She buries her face in her hands.
Samaritan watches, letting him take out his anger. He has seen anger, but this kind was dangerous and best to let out of ones system.
She pats their back softly, their voice calm and kind “Ya didn’t fail anyone. Ya shouldn’t blame yerself. It only makes things worse.”
Sparrow continues to damage his fists, but they seem to glow a dim radiance, healing as he breaks them, his tears flowing down the sides of his face as he destroys himself and the bag.
"But I do blame myself. He was after me, I was a foolish creature and it all caught up with me!" She says, running a hand through her hair.
Samaritan stops him suddenly, not a word between them as he sits him down. He hands him a thermos of something before taking his hands and wrapping them in bandages.
*I myself have been making a fey, she’s an old hag grandma named Mother Ostankya*
*(Looks back at Decadence fey) Mines just a silly guy.*
Deep within the forest, somehow it has gotten warmer. It's not cold like how the winter should be but more like spring or summer. A butterfly-esque humanoid sits on a very soft looking sofa, sipping wine from a beautiful crystal goblet. They are wearing a brilliant suit made of shimmering, color changing fabric and are dining on every food imaginable that sits on a table beside them. The food magically appears once a plate is done it seems.
*do I want to intro mother Ostankya here… if you’re okay with that I will, but otherwise I’ll use Vanilla :>*
*I don't know what's happening. This is the second time a post just outright did not show up for me even when I scrolled its area several times.*
"You're welcome, Omori. Would you like to pick our next activity?"
"No, I'm fine with whatever y'all had decided beforehand." She replies.
"We were planning on drawing monsters today. Keep an open mind, friends. When we're done drawing, we'll talk about the monsters we drew. We'll think about how we would make friends with them. Everyone deserves to be loved, even if they look or act different. Omori, would you help me pass out crayons and construction paper? You can meet the others at the same time."
"Sure!" She cheerfully replies, handing out the crayons and paper given to her and making doubly sure everyone has enough.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
Angél, tired of watching people go by with sadness like, Mauric and Rag, after Felix's death, has decided to do something about it. Silently, the slip past the trees, the world warping around them as they hold a small thing of vole bones in their talons. Suddenly, they are in the Beastlands. They look around "Fitting actually.." they mutter. Their form, unfortunately, does not hold up however in this world as the Heavens don't like a fallen angel.
Across the Beastlands stalks a four-legged beast made of blackenes feathers, long legs with talons at the ends emerge from the feathers. It's heart-shaped face made of white bone with six pitch black almond shaped eyes formed in a circle in the center.
*I myself have been making a fey, she’s an old hag grandma named Mother Ostankya*
*(Looks back at Decadence fey) Mines just a silly guy.*
Deep within the forest, somehow it has gotten warmer. It's not cold like how the winter should be but more like spring or summer. A butterfly-esque humanoid sits on a very soft looking sofa, sipping wine from a beautiful crystal goblet. They are wearing a brilliant suit made of shimmering, color changing fabric and are dining on every food imaginable that sits on a table beside them. The food magically appears once a plate is done it seems.
*do I want to intro mother Ostankya here… if you’re okay with that I will, but otherwise I’ll use Vanilla :>*
"We were planning on drawing monsters today. Keep an open mind, friends. When we're done drawing, we'll talk about the monsters we drew. We'll think about how we would make friends with them. Everyone deserves to be loved, even if they look or act different. Omori, would you help me pass out crayons and construction paper? You can meet the others at the same time."
"Sure!" She cheerfully replies, handing out the crayons and paper given to her and making doubly sure everyone has enough.
When she returns, Franz chuckles and offers her a jelly cup and spoon. "What are you going to draw? I was thinking of making a Boneclaw. They're pretty scary."
“Take a deep breath Stroth. It ain’t yer fault, don’t tell yerself it is. I don’t know what happened, but ya didn’t mean fer it to happen, nothin’ will ever make up her what happened, but Sparrow would have come regardless, ya know that.”
He takes thermos, the dim glow stopping as he lets his hands get wrapped, wiping away his tears, whispering something to himself “It’s my fault… I need to be more… it’s all my fault…”
“Take a deep breath Stroth. It ain’t yer fault, don’t tell yerself it is. I don’t know what happened, but ya didn’t mean fer it to happen, nothin’ will ever make up her what happened, but Sparrow would have come regardless, ya know that.”
He takes thermos, the dim glow stopping as he lets his hands get wrapped, wiping away his tears, whispering something to himself “It’s my fault… I need to be more… it’s all my fault…”
"I know.. I know.. but it hurts so much." She said, her nails digging into her arm.
"No. Whatever it was, leave it here. Don't take that rage with you." He said sternly.
*I myself have been making a fey, she’s an old hag grandma named Mother Ostankya*
*(Looks back at Decadence fey) Mines just a silly guy.*
Deep within the forest, somehow it has gotten warmer. It's not cold like how the winter should be but more like spring or summer. A butterfly-esque humanoid sits on a very soft looking sofa, sipping wine from a beautiful crystal goblet. They are wearing a brilliant suit made of shimmering, color changing fabric and are dining on every food imaginable that sits on a table beside them. The food magically appears once a plate is done it seems.
*do I want to intro mother Ostankya here… if you’re okay with that I will, but otherwise I’ll use Vanilla :>*
*Of course! I want to see what you got.*
Despite the warmer weather, a chilly breeze, and a bit of snow, blows through the woods and past the fey sitting on their sofa, a biting cold. It fades quickly, but it heralds the arrival of another. Approaching the fey on the sofa is a crudely made chariot made from tied together pieces of wood, pulled by bears with stark white fur and an apparent lack of flesh on their faces, only exposed skull. Standing on the chariot, with a cauldron black as the night in front of her, is a withered old woman, covered in many layers of furs and fabrics, all crudely fashioned together as well, and all slightly frosty. The old woman is constantly frowning, and she has a mess of grey hair, decorated with leafless sticks and branches to resemble horns or antlers. She has a staff with her, adorned with feathers and skulls of little rodents. She carries a basket on her back, filled with bones.
“It so warm here… not natural in winter!” She grumbles, talking to one of the skulls on her staff.
“Take a deep breath Stroth. It ain’t yer fault, don’t tell yerself it is. I don’t know what happened, but ya didn’t mean fer it to happen, nothin’ will ever make up her what happened, but Sparrow would have come regardless, ya know that.”
He takes thermos, the dim glow stopping as he lets his hands get wrapped, wiping away his tears, whispering something to himself “It’s my fault… I need to be more… it’s all my fault…”
"I know.. I know.. but it hurts so much." She said, her nails digging into her arm.
"No. Whatever it was, leave it here. Don't take that rage with you." He said sternly.
She takes her hand from hurting herself “Stop, Sparrow wouldn’t allow this so I won’t. Deep breaths, please.”
He looks down to his hands, quivering with rage, closing his eyes. Unbeknownst to him the radiance begins to cover his entire body.
*I myself have been making a fey, she’s an old hag grandma named Mother Ostankya*
*(Looks back at Decadence fey) Mines just a silly guy.*
Deep within the forest, somehow it has gotten warmer. It's not cold like how the winter should be but more like spring or summer. A butterfly-esque humanoid sits on a very soft looking sofa, sipping wine from a beautiful crystal goblet. They are wearing a brilliant suit made of shimmering, color changing fabric and are dining on every food imaginable that sits on a table beside them. The food magically appears once a plate is done it seems.
*do I want to intro mother Ostankya here… if you’re okay with that I will, but otherwise I’ll use Vanilla :>*
*Of course! I want to see what you got.*
Despite the warmer weather, a chilly breeze, and a bit of snow, blows through the woods and past the fey sitting on their sofa, a biting cold. It fades quickly, but it heralds the arrival of another. Approaching the fey on the sofa is a crudely made chariot made from tied together pieces of wood, pulled by bears with stark white fur and an apparent lack of flesh on their faces, only exposed skull. Standing on the chariot, with a cauldron black as the night in front of her, is a withered old woman, covered in many layers of furs and fabrics, all crudely fashioned together as well, and all slightly frosty. The old woman is constantly frowning, and she has a mess of grey hair, decorated with leafless sticks and branches to resemble horns or antlers. She has a staff with her, adorned with feathers and skulls of little rodents. She carries a basket on her back, filled with bones.
“It so warm here… not natural in winter!” She grumbles, talking to one of the skulls on her staff.
"Helloooo dear!" The fey says, sitting up and smiling brilliantly "Come come! Sit with me!" They beckon, another soft chair forming for her.
"We were planning on drawing monsters today. Keep an open mind, friends. When we're done drawing, we'll talk about the monsters we drew. We'll think about how we would make friends with them. Everyone deserves to be loved, even if they look or act different. Omori, would you help me pass out crayons and construction paper? You can meet the others at the same time."
"Sure!" She cheerfully replies, handing out the crayons and paper given to her and making doubly sure everyone has enough.
When she returns, Franz chuckles and offers her a jelly cup and spoon. "What are you going to draw? I was thinking of making a Boneclaw. They're pretty scary."
"I'm not sure. I'll figure it out as I go, I suppose." She responds, accepting the offered cup and spoon. "Thank you." She responds, taking a small bite.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
“Take a deep breath Stroth. It ain’t yer fault, don’t tell yerself it is. I don’t know what happened, but ya didn’t mean fer it to happen, nothin’ will ever make up her what happened, but Sparrow would have come regardless, ya know that.”
He takes thermos, the dim glow stopping as he lets his hands get wrapped, wiping away his tears, whispering something to himself “It’s my fault… I need to be more… it’s all my fault…”
"I know.. I know.. but it hurts so much." She said, her nails digging into her arm.
"No. Whatever it was, leave it here. Don't take that rage with you." He said sternly.
She takes her hand from hurting herself “Stop, Sparrow wouldn’t allow this so I won’t. Deep breaths, please.”
He looks down to his hands, quivering with rage, closing his eyes. Unbeknownst to him the radiance begins to cover his entire body.
Stroth closes her eyes tight "Brand was right. I am just a herald of chaos. I hurt those around me and I hurt Sparrow..."
Samaritan, being a devil, is burned by this. He staggers back a foot, holding his arm.
“Take a deep breath Stroth. It ain’t yer fault, don’t tell yerself it is. I don’t know what happened, but ya didn’t mean fer it to happen, nothin’ will ever make up her what happened, but Sparrow would have come regardless, ya know that.”
He takes thermos, the dim glow stopping as he lets his hands get wrapped, wiping away his tears, whispering something to himself “It’s my fault… I need to be more… it’s all my fault…”
"I know.. I know.. but it hurts so much." She said, her nails digging into her arm.
"No. Whatever it was, leave it here. Don't take that rage with you." He said sternly.
She takes her hand from hurting herself “Stop, Sparrow wouldn’t allow this so I won’t. Deep breaths, please.”
He looks down to his hands, quivering with rage, closing his eyes. Unbeknownst to him the radiance begins to cover his entire body.
Stroth closes her eyes tight "Brand was right. I am just a herald of chaos. I hurt those around me and I hurt Sparrow..."
Samaritan, being a devil, is burned by this. He staggers back a foot, holding his arm.
Merabelle grabs their shoulders, looking into them “Don’t say that because it’s not true. Don’t let yourself believe that. You made one mistake a long time ago.”
The radiance slowly fades, leaving Sparrow with his cold rage, holding the thermos “I… need to get stronger…”
Angél, tired of watching people go by with sadness like, Mauric and Rag, after Felix's death, has decided to do something about it. Silently, the slip past the trees, the world warping around them as they hold a small thing of vole bones in their talons. Suddenly, they are in the Beastlands. They look around "Fitting actually.." they mutter. Their form, unfortunately, does not hold up however in this world as the Heavens don't like a fallen angel.
Across the Beastlands stalks a four-legged beast made of black feathers, long legs with talons at the ends emerge from the feathers. It's heart-shaped face made of white bone with six pitch black almond shaped eyes formed in a circle in the center.
Everything here seems very, very alive. The clouds have faces, the beasts have conversations that suddenly stop when Angél gets close, the water itself feels radiant and beautiful when it splashes against them.
As they track Felix's signature, they come across a large cave surrounded by gourmet food. Something appropriately oversized slumbers within. The being radiates holy energy despite not really being visible in the dark. Not the kind of energy that purges, but the kind that heals and emboldens.
*I myself have been making a fey, she’s an old hag grandma named Mother Ostankya*
*(Looks back at Decadence fey) Mines just a silly guy.*
Deep within the forest, somehow it has gotten warmer. It's not cold like how the winter should be but more like spring or summer. A butterfly-esque humanoid sits on a very soft looking sofa, sipping wine from a beautiful crystal goblet. They are wearing a brilliant suit made of shimmering, color changing fabric and are dining on every food imaginable that sits on a table beside them. The food magically appears once a plate is done it seems.
*do I want to intro mother Ostankya here… if you’re okay with that I will, but otherwise I’ll use Vanilla :>*
*Of course! I want to see what you got.*
Despite the warmer weather, a chilly breeze, and a bit of snow, blows through the woods and past the fey sitting on their sofa, a biting cold. It fades quickly, but it heralds the arrival of another. Approaching the fey on the sofa is a crudely made chariot made from tied together pieces of wood, pulled by bears with stark white fur and an apparent lack of flesh on their faces, only exposed skull. Standing on the chariot, with a cauldron black as the night in front of her, is a withered old woman, covered in many layers of furs and fabrics, all crudely fashioned together as well, and all slightly frosty. The old woman is constantly frowning, and she has a mess of grey hair, decorated with leafless sticks and branches to resemble horns or antlers. She has a staff with her, adorned with feathers and skulls of little rodents. She carries a basket on her back, filled with bones.
“It so warm here… not natural in winter!” She grumbles, talking to one of the skulls on her staff.
"Helloooo dear!" The fey says, sitting up and smiling brilliantly "Come come! Sit with me!" They beckon, another soft chair forming for her.
The undead bears stop in their tracks and Mother Ostankya, grumbling something to a rat skull she holds in one hand, hops off of the chariot and makes their way to the fey. “You cause this?” She asks, gesturing all around her, to the lack of cold.
“Take a deep breath Stroth. It ain’t yer fault, don’t tell yerself it is. I don’t know what happened, but ya didn’t mean fer it to happen, nothin’ will ever make up her what happened, but Sparrow would have come regardless, ya know that.”
He takes thermos, the dim glow stopping as he lets his hands get wrapped, wiping away his tears, whispering something to himself “It’s my fault… I need to be more… it’s all my fault…”
"I know.. I know.. but it hurts so much." She said, her nails digging into her arm.
"No. Whatever it was, leave it here. Don't take that rage with you." He said sternly.
She takes her hand from hurting herself “Stop, Sparrow wouldn’t allow this so I won’t. Deep breaths, please.”
He looks down to his hands, quivering with rage, closing his eyes. Unbeknownst to him the radiance begins to cover his entire body.
Stroth closes her eyes tight "Brand was right. I am just a herald of chaos. I hurt those around me and I hurt Sparrow..."
Samaritan, being a devil, is burned by this. He staggers back a foot, holding his arm.
Merabelle grabs their shoulders, looking into them “Don’t say that because it’s not true. Don’t let yourself believe that. You made one mistake a long time ago.”
The radiance slowly fades, leaving Sparrow with his cold rage, holding the thermos “I… need to get stronger…”
"I made many mistakes! And now it's come back to bite me in the (GP)!" She said, tears forming in her eyes.
Inside the thermos is hot chocolate, decadent and creamy. Samaritan sighs "Why is that?"
Angél, tired of watching people go by with sadness like, Mauric and Rag, after Felix's death, has decided to do something about it. Silently, the slip past the trees, the world warping around them as they hold a small thing of vole bones in their talons. Suddenly, they are in the Beastlands. They look around "Fitting actually.." they mutter. Their form, unfortunately, does not hold up however in this world as the Heavens don't like a fallen angel.
Across the Beastlands stalks a four-legged beast made of black feathers, long legs with talons at the ends emerge from the feathers. It's heart-shaped face made of white bone with six pitch black almond shaped eyes formed in a circle in the center.
Everything here seems very, very alive. The clouds have faces, the beasts have conversations that suddenly stop when Angél gets close, the water itself feels radiant and beautiful when it splashes against them.
As they track Felix's signature, they come across a large cave surrounded by gourmet food. Something appropriately oversized slumbers within. The being radiates holy energy despite not really being visible in the dark. Not the kind of energy that purges, but the kind that heals and emboldens.
Angél, better fitting of the name Zazelbe, stands at the foot of the cave. "Felix.." he says softly.
*I myself have been making a fey, she’s an old hag grandma named Mother Ostankya*
*(Looks back at Decadence fey) Mines just a silly guy.*
Deep within the forest, somehow it has gotten warmer. It's not cold like how the winter should be but more like spring or summer. A butterfly-esque humanoid sits on a very soft looking sofa, sipping wine from a beautiful crystal goblet. They are wearing a brilliant suit made of shimmering, color changing fabric and are dining on every food imaginable that sits on a table beside them. The food magically appears once a plate is done it seems.
*do I want to intro mother Ostankya here… if you’re okay with that I will, but otherwise I’ll use Vanilla :>*
*Of course! I want to see what you got.*
Despite the warmer weather, a chilly breeze, and a bit of snow, blows through the woods and past the fey sitting on their sofa, a biting cold. It fades quickly, but it heralds the arrival of another. Approaching the fey on the sofa is a crudely made chariot made from tied together pieces of wood, pulled by bears with stark white fur and an apparent lack of flesh on their faces, only exposed skull. Standing on the chariot, with a cauldron black as the night in front of her, is a withered old woman, covered in many layers of furs and fabrics, all crudely fashioned together as well, and all slightly frosty. The old woman is constantly frowning, and she has a mess of grey hair, decorated with leafless sticks and branches to resemble horns or antlers. She has a staff with her, adorned with feathers and skulls of little rodents. She carries a basket on her back, filled with bones.
“It so warm here… not natural in winter!” She grumbles, talking to one of the skulls on her staff.
"Helloooo dear!" The fey says, sitting up and smiling brilliantly "Come come! Sit with me!" They beckon, another soft chair forming for her.
The undead bears stop in their tracks and Mother Ostankya, grumbling something to a rat skull she holds in one hand, hops off of the chariot and makes their way to the fey. “You cause this?” She asks, gesturing all around her, to the lack of cold.
They nod, still smiling "I did! Didn't particularly like the cold so I made this one little spot nice and warm for me." They wings on either side of their face flutter a bit "Care for a scone?"
"We were planning on drawing monsters today. Keep an open mind, friends. When we're done drawing, we'll talk about the monsters we drew. We'll think about how we would make friends with them. Everyone deserves to be loved, even if they look or act different. Omori, would you help me pass out crayons and construction paper? You can meet the others at the same time."
"Sure!" She cheerfully replies, handing out the crayons and paper given to her and making doubly sure everyone has enough.
When she returns, Franz chuckles and offers her a jelly cup and spoon. "What are you going to draw? I was thinking of making a Boneclaw. They're pretty scary."
"I'm not sure. I'll figure it out as I go, I suppose." She responds, accepting the offered cup and spoon. "Thank you." She responds, taking a small bite.
It's sweet and dense, and it just tastes luxurious and expensive. The flavor is difficult to place, but the closest analog is probably ripe, fresh bananas and strawberries. Not artificial or old at all. It even strikes a balance between healthy and delicious when it comes to the flavors.
Franz smiles as he draws a boneclaw in all black, white, and red.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
To post a comment, please login or register a new account.
"But I do blame myself. He was after me, I was a foolish creature and it all caught up with me!" She says, running a hand through her hair.
Samaritan stops him suddenly, not a word between them as he sits him down. He hands him a thermos of something before taking his hands and wrapping them in bandages.
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
*do I want to intro mother Ostankya here… if you’re okay with that I will, but otherwise I’ll use Vanilla :>*
"Sure!" She cheerfully replies, handing out the crayons and paper given to her and making doubly sure everyone has enough.
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
Angél, tired of watching people go by with sadness like, Mauric and Rag, after Felix's death, has decided to do something about it. Silently, the slip past the trees, the world warping around them as they hold a small thing of vole bones in their talons. Suddenly, they are in the Beastlands. They look around "Fitting actually.." they mutter. Their form, unfortunately, does not hold up however in this world as the Heavens don't like a fallen angel.
Across the Beastlands stalks a four-legged beast made of blackenes feathers, long legs with talons at the ends emerge from the feathers. It's heart-shaped face made of white bone with six pitch black almond shaped eyes formed in a circle in the center.
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
*Of course! I want to see what you got.*
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
When she returns, Franz chuckles and offers her a jelly cup and spoon. "What are you going to draw? I was thinking of making a Boneclaw. They're pretty scary."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
*Cut for Wendi.*
“Take a deep breath Stroth. It ain’t yer fault, don’t tell yerself it is. I don’t know what happened, but ya didn’t mean fer it to happen, nothin’ will ever make up her what happened, but Sparrow would have come regardless, ya know that.”
He takes thermos, the dim glow stopping as he lets his hands get wrapped, wiping away his tears, whispering something to himself “It’s my fault… I need to be more… it’s all my fault…”
"I know.. I know.. but it hurts so much." She said, her nails digging into her arm.
"No. Whatever it was, leave it here. Don't take that rage with you." He said sternly.
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
Despite the warmer weather, a chilly breeze, and a bit of snow, blows through the woods and past the fey sitting on their sofa, a biting cold. It fades quickly, but it heralds the arrival of another. Approaching the fey on the sofa is a crudely made chariot made from tied together pieces of wood, pulled by bears with stark white fur and an apparent lack of flesh on their faces, only exposed skull. Standing on the chariot, with a cauldron black as the night in front of her, is a withered old woman, covered in many layers of furs and fabrics, all crudely fashioned together as well, and all slightly frosty. The old woman is constantly frowning, and she has a mess of grey hair, decorated with leafless sticks and branches to resemble horns or antlers. She has a staff with her, adorned with feathers and skulls of little rodents. She carries a basket on her back, filled with bones.
“It so warm here… not natural in winter!” She grumbles, talking to one of the skulls on her staff.
She takes her hand from hurting herself “Stop, Sparrow wouldn’t allow this so I won’t. Deep breaths, please.”
He looks down to his hands, quivering with rage, closing his eyes. Unbeknownst to him the radiance begins to cover his entire body.
"Helloooo dear!" The fey says, sitting up and smiling brilliantly "Come come! Sit with me!" They beckon, another soft chair forming for her.
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
"I'm not sure. I'll figure it out as I go, I suppose." She responds, accepting the offered cup and spoon. "Thank you." She responds, taking a small bite.
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
Stroth closes her eyes tight "Brand was right. I am just a herald of chaos. I hurt those around me and I hurt Sparrow..."
Samaritan, being a devil, is burned by this. He staggers back a foot, holding his arm.
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
Merabelle grabs their shoulders, looking into them “Don’t say that because it’s not true. Don’t let yourself believe that. You made one mistake a long time ago.”
The radiance slowly fades, leaving Sparrow with his cold rage, holding the thermos “I… need to get stronger…”
Everything here seems very, very alive. The clouds have faces, the beasts have conversations that suddenly stop when Angél gets close, the water itself feels radiant and beautiful when it splashes against them.
As they track Felix's signature, they come across a large cave surrounded by gourmet food. Something appropriately oversized slumbers within. The being radiates holy energy despite not really being visible in the dark. Not the kind of energy that purges, but the kind that heals and emboldens.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
The undead bears stop in their tracks and Mother Ostankya, grumbling something to a rat skull she holds in one hand, hops off of the chariot and makes their way to the fey. “You cause this?” She asks, gesturing all around her, to the lack of cold.
"I made many mistakes! And now it's come back to bite me in the (GP)!" She said, tears forming in her eyes.
Inside the thermos is hot chocolate, decadent and creamy. Samaritan sighs "Why is that?"
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
Angél, better fitting of the name Zazelbe, stands at the foot of the cave. "Felix.." he says softly.
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
They nod, still smiling "I did! Didn't particularly like the cold so I made this one little spot nice and warm for me." They wings on either side of their face flutter a bit "Care for a scone?"
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
It's sweet and dense, and it just tastes luxurious and expensive. The flavor is difficult to place, but the closest analog is probably ripe, fresh bananas and strawberries. Not artificial or old at all. It even strikes a balance between healthy and delicious when it comes to the flavors.
Franz smiles as he draws a boneclaw in all black, white, and red.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels