He drops the handful of dirt, looking up to the fox man. “Oh, not at all! I only have to do this once a year, I think it’s good for me anyways. Now, I’ve just come to review this wonderful village’s harvest, as usual. I do not believe I recognize you… sorry if we had met before, the Autumn country is quite large.” He says, chuckling as he watches the beast folk.
"Oh no, not at all. My name is Aeon Drowse, the founder of this place of rest, a haven for the wayward, assuming we can pay the rent. I hope you find that it meets all your needs."
The village children point and giggle, excited that the Prince is here. The adults try to get them to stop pointing and get back to feeding the "quiet-minded" animals.
”i’m sure it will, I don’t need much. I can taste the fertility of these lands in the air, you must have a great harvest season. Now, could you show me to one of your farms? I’d love to see the crops.” He says, waving and smiling with some of the children. Winds pick up fallen leaves and blasts them into the faces of some of the adults, not hurting of course but pretty annoying. He chuckles and turns back to Aeon.
"Of course. I'll take you to my own. I farm pumpkins, primarily. A commodity crop, but we love them so." He begins to slowly walk toward the farm on top of the hill in the center of the clearing. Pumpkins grow wild and brash on the hill, contrasting the neat rows of the pumpkin patches. He points to a blue barn over near his farmhouse. "My barn is just this way. But we won't go there. Inside are some things that are better left unseen. The house is fine though."
He drops the handful of dirt, looking up to the fox man. “Oh, not at all! I only have to do this once a year, I think it’s good for me anyways. Now, I’ve just come to review this wonderful village’s harvest, as usual. I do not believe I recognize you… sorry if we had met before, the Autumn country is quite large.” He says, chuckling as he watches the beast folk.
"Oh no, not at all. My name is Aeon Drowse, the founder of this place of rest, a haven for the wayward, assuming we can pay the rent. I hope you find that it meets all your needs."
The village children point and giggle, excited that the Prince is here. The adults try to get them to stop pointing and get back to feeding the "quiet-minded" animals.
”i’m sure it will, I don’t need much. I can taste the fertility of these lands in the air, you must have a great harvest season. Now, could you show me to one of your farms? I’d love to see the crops.” He says, waving and smiling with some of the children. Winds pick up fallen leaves and blasts them into the faces of some of the adults, not hurting of course but pretty annoying. He chuckles and turns back to Aeon.
"Of course. I'll take you to my own. I farm pumpkins, primarily. A commodity crop, but we love them so." He begins to slowly walk toward the farm on top of the hill in the center of the clearing. Pumpkins grow wild and brash on the hill, contrasting the neat rows of the pumpkin patches. He points to a blue barn over near his farmhouse. "My barn is just this way. But we won't go there. Inside are some things that are better left unseen. The house is fine though."
He walks over to a particularly large pumpkin and kneels down next to it, running his hand over its surface, smiling. He examines its leaves as well, chuckling to himself a bit. He looks to the sky, spotting three crows circling overhead. He moves to another pumpkin and does the same thing, checking the sky each time. He then counts the pumpkins and any other crops growing there as well, his eyes actually flickering as if they were reflecting flame. He turns back to Aeon.
”beautiful, absolutely beautiful. You should be proud of these pumpkins, and I’m not just playing favorites because Pumpkins are my favorite crop.” he turns back around, surveying the rest of the town. “I have high expectations for the rest of these farms, consider yourself lucky. Some places around didn’t take the proper care of their crops and I haven’t given them a proper harvest for moons. Good work here, so far though.”
"Of course. I'll take you to my own. I farm pumpkins, primarily. A commodity crop, but we love them so." He begins to slowly walk toward the farm on top of the hill in the center of the clearing. Pumpkins grow wild and brash on the hill, contrasting the neat rows of the pumpkin patches. He points to a blue barn over near his farmhouse. "My barn is just this way. But we won't go there. Inside are some things that are better left unseen. The house is fine though."
He walks over to a particularly large pumpkin and kneels down next to it, running his hand over its surface, smiling. He examines its leaves as well, chuckling to himself a bit. He looks to the sky, spotting three crows circling overhead. He moves to another pumpkin and does the same thing, checking the sky each time. He then counts the pumpkins and any other crops growing there as well, his eyes actually flickering as if they were reflecting flame. He turns back to Aeon.
”beautiful, absolutely beautiful. You should be proud of these pumpkins, and I’m not just playing favorites because Pumpkins are my favorite crop.” he turns back around, surveying the rest of the town. “I have high expectations for the rest of these farms, consider yourself lucky. Some places around didn’t take the proper care of their crops and I haven’t given them a proper harvest for moons. Good work here, so far though.”
Aeon puts his hands into his pockets and smiles, looking down at his pumpkins. "Thank you, but I learned everything I know about farming from my people. I was near-hopeless when I started out. I overwatered my pumpkins all the time. Fortunately, this soil cannot be, well, soiled. Blessed, some say."
"Of course. I'll take you to my own. I farm pumpkins, primarily. A commodity crop, but we love them so." He begins to slowly walk toward the farm on top of the hill in the center of the clearing. Pumpkins grow wild and brash on the hill, contrasting the neat rows of the pumpkin patches. He points to a blue barn over near his farmhouse. "My barn is just this way. But we won't go there. Inside are some things that are better left unseen. The house is fine though."
He walks over to a particularly large pumpkin and kneels down next to it, running his hand over its surface, smiling. He examines its leaves as well, chuckling to himself a bit. He looks to the sky, spotting three crows circling overhead. He moves to another pumpkin and does the same thing, checking the sky each time. He then counts the pumpkins and any other crops growing there as well, his eyes actually flickering as if they were reflecting flame. He turns back to Aeon.
”beautiful, absolutely beautiful. You should be proud of these pumpkins, and I’m not just playing favorites because Pumpkins are my favorite crop.” he turns back around, surveying the rest of the town. “I have high expectations for the rest of these farms, consider yourself lucky. Some places around didn’t take the proper care of their crops and I haven’t given them a proper harvest for moons. Good work here, so far though.”
Aeon puts his hands into his pockets and smiles, looking down at his pumpkins. "Thank you, but I learned everything I know about farming from my people. I was near-hopeless when I started out. I overwatered my pumpkins all the time. Fortunately, this soil cannot be, well, soiled. Blessed, some say."
“How intriguing… well, I didn’t bless it, and I doubt anyone else of the Autumn court did, so who?”
He walks over to a particularly large pumpkin and kneels down next to it, running his hand over its surface, smiling. He examines its leaves as well, chuckling to himself a bit. He looks to the sky, spotting three crows circling overhead. He moves to another pumpkin and does the same thing, checking the sky each time. He then counts the pumpkins and any other crops growing there as well, his eyes actually flickering as if they were reflecting flame. He turns back to Aeon.
”beautiful, absolutely beautiful. You should be proud of these pumpkins, and I’m not just playing favorites because Pumpkins are my favorite crop.” he turns back around, surveying the rest of the town. “I have high expectations for the rest of these farms, consider yourself lucky. Some places around didn’t take the proper care of their crops and I haven’t given them a proper harvest for moons. Good work here, so far though.”
Aeon puts his hands into his pockets and smiles, looking down at his pumpkins. "Thank you, but I learned everything I know about farming from my people. I was near-hopeless when I started out. I overwatered my pumpkins all the time. Fortunately, this soil cannot be, well, soiled. Blessed, some say."
“How intriguing… well, I didn’t bless it, and I doubt anyone else of the Autumn court did, so who?”
A drop of sweat beads in Aeon's fur. "It hardly matters, I think. It makes us happy, and it keeps us fed."
He walks over to a particularly large pumpkin and kneels down next to it, running his hand over its surface, smiling. He examines its leaves as well, chuckling to himself a bit. He looks to the sky, spotting three crows circling overhead. He moves to another pumpkin and does the same thing, checking the sky each time. He then counts the pumpkins and any other crops growing there as well, his eyes actually flickering as if they were reflecting flame. He turns back to Aeon.
”beautiful, absolutely beautiful. You should be proud of these pumpkins, and I’m not just playing favorites because Pumpkins are my favorite crop.” he turns back around, surveying the rest of the town. “I have high expectations for the rest of these farms, consider yourself lucky. Some places around didn’t take the proper care of their crops and I haven’t given them a proper harvest for moons. Good work here, so far though.”
Aeon puts his hands into his pockets and smiles, looking down at his pumpkins. "Thank you, but I learned everything I know about farming from my people. I was near-hopeless when I started out. I overwatered my pumpkins all the time. Fortunately, this soil cannot be, well, soiled. Blessed, some say."
“How intriguing… well, I didn’t bless it, and I doubt anyone else of the Autumn court did, so who?”
A drop of sweat beads in Aeon's fur. "It hardly matters, I think. It makes us happy, and it keeps us fed."
“alright then, lets hope I don’t have to change that.” He smiles, dusting off his gloves. “this village is so large I may have to stay a night or two, if that’s alright. Next farm, then?”
He walks over to a particularly large pumpkin and kneels down next to it, running his hand over its surface, smiling. He examines its leaves as well, chuckling to himself a bit. He looks to the sky, spotting three crows circling overhead. He moves to another pumpkin and does the same thing, checking the sky each time. He then counts the pumpkins and any other crops growing there as well, his eyes actually flickering as if they were reflecting flame. He turns back to Aeon.
”beautiful, absolutely beautiful. You should be proud of these pumpkins, and I’m not just playing favorites because Pumpkins are my favorite crop.” he turns back around, surveying the rest of the town. “I have high expectations for the rest of these farms, consider yourself lucky. Some places around didn’t take the proper care of their crops and I haven’t given them a proper harvest for moons. Good work here, so far though.”
Aeon puts his hands into his pockets and smiles, looking down at his pumpkins. "Thank you, but I learned everything I know about farming from my people. I was near-hopeless when I started out. I overwatered my pumpkins all the time. Fortunately, this soil cannot be, well, soiled. Blessed, some say."
“How intriguing… well, I didn’t bless it, and I doubt anyone else of the Autumn court did, so who?”
A drop of sweat beads in Aeon's fur. "It hardly matters, I think. It makes us happy, and it keeps us fed."
“alright then, lets hope I don’t have to change that.” He smiles, dusting off his gloves. “this village is so large I may have to stay a night or two, if that’s alright. Next farm, then?”
"Of course." His ears twitch, and he suddenly looks over to the barn, concern in his gaze. It takes him a couple of seconds before he pulls his eyes away from it. "Penny grows corn. She's right down the road. I'm sure you'll find her crop as satisfactory as my own."
He walks over to a particularly large pumpkin and kneels down next to it, running his hand over its surface, smiling. He examines its leaves as well, chuckling to himself a bit. He looks to the sky, spotting three crows circling overhead. He moves to another pumpkin and does the same thing, checking the sky each time. He then counts the pumpkins and any other crops growing there as well, his eyes actually flickering as if they were reflecting flame. He turns back to Aeon.
”beautiful, absolutely beautiful. You should be proud of these pumpkins, and I’m not just playing favorites because Pumpkins are my favorite crop.” he turns back around, surveying the rest of the town. “I have high expectations for the rest of these farms, consider yourself lucky. Some places around didn’t take the proper care of their crops and I haven’t given them a proper harvest for moons. Good work here, so far though.”
Aeon puts his hands into his pockets and smiles, looking down at his pumpkins. "Thank you, but I learned everything I know about farming from my people. I was near-hopeless when I started out. I overwatered my pumpkins all the time. Fortunately, this soil cannot be, well, soiled. Blessed, some say."
“How intriguing… well, I didn’t bless it, and I doubt anyone else of the Autumn court did, so who?”
A drop of sweat beads in Aeon's fur. "It hardly matters, I think. It makes us happy, and it keeps us fed."
“alright then, lets hope I don’t have to change that.” He smiles, dusting off his gloves. “this village is so large I may have to stay a night or two, if that’s alright. Next farm, then?”
"Of course." His ears twitch, and he suddenly looks over to the barn, concern in his gaze. It takes him a couple of seconds before he pulls his eyes away from it. "Penny grows corn. She's right down the road. I'm sure you'll find her crop as satisfactory as my own."
“Alright! If you don’t mind telling me, friend, what’s In that barn? No need to be specific if you don’t wanna.” (Julius is then gonna go do a montage of him reviewing all the farms and deeming them all satisfactory, so once that happens we can skip that)
*I know October is a popular autumn month, but I'm more fond of November since it has the birthdays of my father and youngest brother and I enjoy Thanksgiving.*
For quite some time now, a strange occurrence has taken place throughout the Autumn Country for as long as people can remember. In the middle of the night, various small bits of foodstuff and ingredients tend to disappear without a trace. The amount is never enough to cause too much issue for those they were taken from, but still people would be perplex by the items vanishing.
Then, people began to find various foods and drinks left around for them, placed in places so they would be found by the person they were intended for. Someone taking a break from plowing the fields would find a glass of freshly squeezed lemonade and frozen fruit treats that doesn't seem to melt until the person begins to consume it. A child crying that was awoken by a nightmare finding a glass of warm milk and freshly baked cookies. A family on hard times with meager funds coming home to a table filled with warm meats, fresh bread and an array of fruits and veggies. Everyone that partakes in this mysterious food tells of it being some of the best food they have ever had, always leaving them satisfied and full no matter the portion size. No one knows who or what could be doing this, but people have come to call the one who leaves the food behind the "Spirit of Sustenance". Some that have been blessed by the spirit's gifts have even begun to leave out small amount of food stuffs, hoping that these offering can be used so others can receive such culinary gifts.
On occasion, in the middle of the night, someone who has just discovered on of these culinary gifts have spotted a figure in the woods dotting the Autumn Country. The silhouette of a tall shadowy being with glowing red eye and large antler like horns, before in the blink of an eye, the figure is gone as if it was never there at all.
The latest recipient of one of the Spirit of Sustenance's gifts is a middle age farmhand in one of the towns near the Keep of Painted Leaves. While many of others in the town are excited for the bountiful harvest, and the feasting and festivities that will be taking place, the man mood is more mournful, for this will be the first autumn without any family to spend it with. Most of his extended family left the Autumn country in the last few years for more cheery pastures, with only his mother and him remaining. However, last winter his mother passed away due to illness, leaving the man alone.
After a long and difficult day, exasperated by all the festive energy, the man returned to his small and empty home. As the man began to settle down, preparing for another lonely and melancholy evening, a strange scent crossed his nose that caused him to freeze. The smell was familiar somehow, though he couldn't place it even as he felt the slight sting of tears in the corner of his eyes as he began to search for where the scent was coming from. The smell led him to a small bedroom, the one his mother had been staying in from the last few years of her life. The room was mostly untouched, the lingering pain from the loss of his mother detering him from entering the room where her belongings rest. However, the curiosity of the smell overcame his trepidation and he opened the door. It was modestly furnished with a bookshelf full of his mother's favorite books, a dresser, a bed, and a desk facing the window. His mother's journals and old writings are on the desk, untouched since the mother's death.
Everything was how she left it, except for the additional two items resting on the desk. As he approached the desk, he recognized the items immediately. The first was a warm and steaming mug of a dark brown liquid, hints of chocolate and cinnamon wafting from it's warm surface. The second is a full pumpkin and pecan pie with a dollop of cream on top, just like the one his mother use to make during the harvest season. The smell, stronger in the presence of the pie, was already stirring warm and fond memories of his mother and him in the kitchen when he was younger, baking up a storm for the harvest feasts, laughing, playing and enjoying themselves. As the stinging in his eyes grew from the tears welling up, he briefly looked around, wondering where this could have come from, before deciding to take a tentative bite of the pie. It was almost a perfect replica of how she use to make it, and the tears began to fall as more memories of his mother started to surface in connection to the pie. They were bittersweet now that she was gone, but he can't help but feel a little lighter.
He ends up sitting down at the desk, needing to sit and collect himself. He is still confused at where the pie came from, but at the moment all he can feel is gratitude, for his mother, for whoever or whatever gave him even a piece of her memory to enjoy even for just the one last time. He takes a sip of the warm mug, recognizing the cinnamon spiced hot coco his mother use to make whenever he felt down or had a nightmare. Another wave of nostalgia washed over him, but it wasn't as bittersweet as before. After a few moments of savoring the sip,he looks over at the old writings he left behind. He had always felt to upset to read them, the passing to raw. Maybe, with the blessing of this mysterious pick me up, he could read them now. As he leaned back in the chair with the mug, he picked up one of the notes, and began to read what his mother wrote about her life, reminiscing and indulging in some long needed catharsis.
Peeking through the window, a shadowy figure floats as he watches the man enjoying his culinary gift. Happy that it could help even for an evening, the figure looks at a large plate with an ornate turtle shell that seems to be acting as a cloche. He peeks under the cloche real quick, before he zips off and fading into the shadows, looking for his next gift's recipient.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Meddle not in the affairs of dragons, for thou art crunchy and taste good with ketchup."
He walks over to a particularly large pumpkin and kneels down next to it, running his hand over its surface, smiling. He examines its leaves as well, chuckling to himself a bit. He looks to the sky, spotting three crows circling overhead. He moves to another pumpkin and does the same thing, checking the sky each time. He then counts the pumpkins and any other crops growing there as well, his eyes actually flickering as if they were reflecting flame. He turns back to Aeon.
”beautiful, absolutely beautiful. You should be proud of these pumpkins, and I’m not just playing favorites because Pumpkins are my favorite crop.” he turns back around, surveying the rest of the town. “I have high expectations for the rest of these farms, consider yourself lucky. Some places around didn’t take the proper care of their crops and I haven’t given them a proper harvest for moons. Good work here, so far though.”
Aeon puts his hands into his pockets and smiles, looking down at his pumpkins. "Thank you, but I learned everything I know about farming from my people. I was near-hopeless when I started out. I overwatered my pumpkins all the time. Fortunately, this soil cannot be, well, soiled. Blessed, some say."
“How intriguing… well, I didn’t bless it, and I doubt anyone else of the Autumn court did, so who?”
A drop of sweat beads in Aeon's fur. "It hardly matters, I think. It makes us happy, and it keeps us fed."
“alright then, lets hope I don’t have to change that.” He smiles, dusting off his gloves. “this village is so large I may have to stay a night or two, if that’s alright. Next farm, then?”
"Of course." His ears twitch, and he suddenly looks over to the barn, concern in his gaze. It takes him a couple of seconds before he pulls his eyes away from it. "Penny grows corn. She's right down the road. I'm sure you'll find her crop as satisfactory as my own."
“Alright! If you don’t mind telling me, friend, what’s In that barn? No need to be specific if you don’t wanna.” (Julius is then gonna go do a montage of him reviewing all the farms and deeming them all satisfactory, so once that happens we can skip that)
He sighs and kicks a pebble with his paw. "Well, it's a secret. Maybe ask your dad sometime. But all you need to know at the moment is that it's not dangerous as long as no one gets upset around it. Try not to talk too much about ruining our livelihoods. It's fine to do it since it's your job and all, but I'd like to break the news to people. They trust me."
He walks over to a particularly large pumpkin and kneels down next to it, running his hand over its surface, smiling. He examines its leaves as well, chuckling to himself a bit. He looks to the sky, spotting three crows circling overhead. He moves to another pumpkin and does the same thing, checking the sky each time. He then counts the pumpkins and any other crops growing there as well, his eyes actually flickering as if they were reflecting flame. He turns back to Aeon.
”beautiful, absolutely beautiful. You should be proud of these pumpkins, and I’m not just playing favorites because Pumpkins are my favorite crop.” he turns back around, surveying the rest of the town. “I have high expectations for the rest of these farms, consider yourself lucky. Some places around didn’t take the proper care of their crops and I haven’t given them a proper harvest for moons. Good work here, so far though.”
Aeon puts his hands into his pockets and smiles, looking down at his pumpkins. "Thank you, but I learned everything I know about farming from my people. I was near-hopeless when I started out. I overwatered my pumpkins all the time. Fortunately, this soil cannot be, well, soiled. Blessed, some say."
“How intriguing… well, I didn’t bless it, and I doubt anyone else of the Autumn court did, so who?”
A drop of sweat beads in Aeon's fur. "It hardly matters, I think. It makes us happy, and it keeps us fed."
“alright then, lets hope I don’t have to change that.” He smiles, dusting off his gloves. “this village is so large I may have to stay a night or two, if that’s alright. Next farm, then?”
"Of course." His ears twitch, and he suddenly looks over to the barn, concern in his gaze. It takes him a couple of seconds before he pulls his eyes away from it. "Penny grows corn. She's right down the road. I'm sure you'll find her crop as satisfactory as my own."
“Alright! If you don’t mind telling me, friend, what’s In that barn? No need to be specific if you don’t wanna.” (Julius is then gonna go do a montage of him reviewing all the farms and deeming them all satisfactory, so once that happens we can skip that)
He sighs and kicks a pebble with his paw. "Well, it's a secret. Maybe ask your dad sometime. But all you need to know at the moment is that it's not dangerous as long as no one gets upset around it. Try not to talk too much about ruining our livelihoods. It's fine to do it since it's your job and all, but I'd like to break the news to people. They trust me."
“Ah, I see... I’m sorry. And besides, that’s not gonna happen if all of the crops are as quality as yours…”
He nods, “I understand. You have responsibilities that come first, but if you are ever able you are welcome to join the next one.” He considers, “What sort of hindrance plagues your household? I may be able to aid you, or at the very least provide you with aid.”
"My spouse... I... well... Thousands of years of combined lifetimes takes a toll on the very soul. Most of my people believe them to be gone, but in truth, I'm afraid one or the other would be hurt by the reveal. Please do not speak to others of this, but the history of this land rots those who dare claim ownership of it. My spouse is the holder of the deed, and they have simultaneously deteriorated and developed in both mind and body. Caring for them is easy, aside from one detail: they are empathic. They feel the emotions of the entire town."
He sighs, picking up a small bottle of pills and taking one. "I love them so much, but the sins of this land curse us. See, the hunters, the four nobles who used to own this clearing, they used it as an enormous stink pit. Edge to edge, rotting animals and political rivals. Their spirits dwell in my love, my Knight. I only tell you because you have the right to know. While I could not stop you if you so desired, please, I beg of you, tell no one."
He lets out a long sigh that causes the branches of the surrounding trees to sway and shed their leaves. “I’ll hold your secret close. If there is anything I can do to help, know that my Keep is always open.”
"Thank you, my Lord, but I believe I've found a cure already." He slowly limps over to grab some milk from the fridge. "Those nobles..." He shakes his head as he pours it into a chipped mug. He swallows the pill with the milk. "...they always go hunting. Just outside the parts of the woods they corrupted. I think they can quell the spirits. It'll just take some convincing." He sits back down, suddenly somewhat sleepy-looking. "I've failed to convince them before, but I just need to carry a big stick this time. Of course, sticks that big are hard to come by..." he chuckles drowsily.
He stokes his leaf beard and thought before smiling, “I believe I can be a pretty big stick. They wouldn’t dare turn you away with me by your side.”
Appreciator of all things Weird, Wondrous, and/or Yummy
In the Autumn Country, days end quickly, the gloaming hours linger, and the midnights pile one upon the other till the air is thick and flows like twilight syrup.
*Coronet, I don't want to quote your post because it's too long, but it is absolutely beautiful and I love it.*
*It's all good, thank you! I got a bit of inspiration while thinking about the character and watching a few videos about how food can strongly trigger past memories.*
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Meddle not in the affairs of dragons, for thou art crunchy and taste good with ketchup."
“Alright! If you don’t mind telling me, friend, what’s In that barn? No need to be specific if you don’t wanna.” (Julius is then gonna go do a montage of him reviewing all the farms and deeming them all satisfactory, so once that happens we can skip that)
He sighs and kicks a pebble with his paw. "Well, it's a secret. Maybe ask your dad sometime. But all you need to know at the moment is that it's not dangerous as long as no one gets upset around it. Try not to talk too much about ruining our livelihoods. It's fine to do it since it's your job and all, but I'd like to break the news to people. They trust me."
“Ah, I see... I’m sorry. And besides, that’s not gonna happen if all of the crops are as quality as yours…”
"It's all good. No need to worry, I just wanted to help keep everyone calm. Now, let's get going."
The wind whistles and cackles, autumn leaves dance in the sky. The moon smiles as the hard work of all of the farmers out there is paying off. Walking through the woods, beneath the canopies of trees and on the neglected paths through the deep woods, a prince makes his way all around the country. Wearing fine noble clothes and a cloak of decaying leaves, his crown made of woven wheat, resting on his well styled reddish brown hair, a few strands hanging in front of his face. He has tan, freckled skin, and fiery orange eyes. At his side, a pristine bronze sickle with the words, ‘carver,’ on its hilt. His footsteps, crunching leaves and twigs, sound almost like the clip-clop of a beast of Burden’s hooves. He wears a pair of black gloves as well as topaz earrings. His cloak is pinned together at his neck with a silver pumpkin pin. Around him, plants grow wildly, making months of growth in mere moments, fruits and flowers blossoming around him, before the fruits and flowers begin to rot and decay with every step he takes away from them. He picks an apple from a tree, takes a bite out of it, and as he’s chewing it, the rest of the fruit withers away to dust.
those from Autumn country likely know of him, though he is reclusive most months besides this very season, as Julius, the Harvest prince. He makes his way across the lands, surveying the harvest and granting his blessings or curses to the fields of those he sees fit. Other months, he stays at his secluded pumpkin patch in the deep dark woods, or attending meetings with others of the Court.
*bumps into post in the deep dark of the night*
*how is everyone?*
You notice a troops of very ragged figures marching along the road towards a hill. They carry bundles of straw on their backs.
Julius smiles upon seeing others, and strides over until he is a few feet behind them, not talking to them but simply watching them. He doesn’t interact with people much.
A few glance back at you, revealing grime covered skulls. Wisps of dried hair and flesh cling to the walking corpses and their bodies are clothed in tattered rags. They hall their straw bundles purposefully as the march up the hill.
Intrigued, he gasps in a mix of delight and curiosity, bounding ahead of the group on the wind to See where they are heading, landing the small leap with a clip-clop, like hooves.
The skeletons climb to the crown of the hill and they begin to toss their bundles into a large pile.
One of them approaches you and speaks in the dry, raspy speech of a voice scraped from the insides of a corpse, “I’m sorry for my company’s silence. Most have lost their tongues. Tell me sir, do you know the origin of the word bonfire?”
He thinks for a moment.
”I do not, tell me, my good sir.”
“The original word was ‘bone fire’. They mounded their dead and burned them to cleanse their world of disease and their hearts of sorrow.”
By now the pile of straw bundles is heaped up in a massive mound. The skeletons begin to climb the pile, standing silently on the straw. The one at the top lifts a torch into the air.
”We aim to do the same today.” The speaking corpse beside you begins to step towards the gathering.
Appreciator of all things Weird, Wondrous, and/or Yummy
In the Autumn Country, days end quickly, the gloaming hours linger, and the midnights pile one upon the other till the air is thick and flows like twilight syrup.
The wind whistles and cackles, autumn leaves dance in the sky. The moon smiles as the hard work of all of the farmers out there is paying off. Walking through the woods, beneath the canopies of trees and on the neglected paths through the deep woods, a prince makes his way all around the country. Wearing fine noble clothes and a cloak of decaying leaves, his crown made of woven wheat, resting on his well styled reddish brown hair, a few strands hanging in front of his face. He has tan, freckled skin, and fiery orange eyes. At his side, a pristine bronze sickle with the words, ‘carver,’ on its hilt. His footsteps, crunching leaves and twigs, sound almost like the clip-clop of a beast of Burden’s hooves. He wears a pair of black gloves as well as topaz earrings. His cloak is pinned together at his neck with a silver pumpkin pin. Around him, plants grow wildly, making months of growth in mere moments, fruits and flowers blossoming around him, before the fruits and flowers begin to rot and decay with every step he takes away from them. He picks an apple from a tree, takes a bite out of it, and as he’s chewing it, the rest of the fruit withers away to dust.
those from Autumn country likely know of him, though he is reclusive most months besides this very season, as Julius, the Harvest prince. He makes his way across the lands, surveying the harvest and granting his blessings or curses to the fields of those he sees fit. Other months, he stays at his secluded pumpkin patch in the deep dark woods, or attending meetings with others of the Court.
*bumps into post in the deep dark of the night*
*how is everyone?*
You notice a troops of very ragged figures marching along the road towards a hill. They carry bundles of straw on their backs.
Julius smiles upon seeing others, and strides over until he is a few feet behind them, not talking to them but simply watching them. He doesn’t interact with people much.
A few glance back at you, revealing grime covered skulls. Wisps of dried hair and flesh cling to the walking corpses and their bodies are clothed in tattered rags. They hall their straw bundles purposefully as the march up the hill.
Intrigued, he gasps in a mix of delight and curiosity, bounding ahead of the group on the wind to See where they are heading, landing the small leap with a clip-clop, like hooves.
The skeletons climb to the crown of the hill and they begin to toss their bundles into a large pile.
One of them approaches you and speaks in the dry, raspy speech of a voice scraped from the insides of a corpse, “I’m sorry for my company’s silence. Most have lost their tongues. Tell me sir, do you know the origin of the word bonfire?”
He thinks for a moment.
”I do not, tell me, my good sir.”
“The original word was ‘bone fire’. They mounded their dead and burned them to cleanse their world of disease and their hearts of sorrow.”
By now the pile of straw bundles is heaped up in a massive mound. The skeletons begin to climb the pile, standing silently on the straw. The one at the top lifts a torch into the air.
”We aim to do the same today.” The speaking corpse beside you begins to step towards the gathering.
“I see… in all my years here, I’ve never heard of anything of the sort…” he sits down a few feet away from the hill, vines and roots growing wild around him.
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"Of course. I'll take you to my own. I farm pumpkins, primarily. A commodity crop, but we love them so." He begins to slowly walk toward the farm on top of the hill in the center of the clearing. Pumpkins grow wild and brash on the hill, contrasting the neat rows of the pumpkin patches. He points to a blue barn over near his farmhouse. "My barn is just this way. But we won't go there. Inside are some things that are better left unseen. The house is fine though."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
He walks over to a particularly large pumpkin and kneels down next to it, running his hand over its surface, smiling. He examines its leaves as well, chuckling to himself a bit. He looks to the sky, spotting three crows circling overhead. He moves to another pumpkin and does the same thing, checking the sky each time. He then counts the pumpkins and any other crops growing there as well, his eyes actually flickering as if they were reflecting flame. He turns back to Aeon.
”beautiful, absolutely beautiful. You should be proud of these pumpkins, and I’m not just playing favorites because Pumpkins are my favorite crop.” he turns back around, surveying the rest of the town. “I have high expectations for the rest of these farms, consider yourself lucky. Some places around didn’t take the proper care of their crops and I haven’t given them a proper harvest for moons. Good work here, so far though.”
Aeon puts his hands into his pockets and smiles, looking down at his pumpkins. "Thank you, but I learned everything I know about farming from my people. I was near-hopeless when I started out. I overwatered my pumpkins all the time. Fortunately, this soil cannot be, well, soiled. Blessed, some say."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
“How intriguing… well, I didn’t bless it, and I doubt anyone else of the Autumn court did, so who?”
*Hmm. Seems like quite the cool thread, but I can’t think of any character that would fit.*
Yo, I'm Himy (He/him) not as active as I use to be, but I'm here from time to time. I don't got much else to say.
"Like a soon to be broken man once said: You're either perfect, or you're not me."
”Be not defeated by the rain. Be not hindered by the wind. Bested by neither winter snow or summer heat.”
Hic Sunt Dracones
A drop of sweat beads in Aeon's fur. "It hardly matters, I think. It makes us happy, and it keeps us fed."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
“alright then, lets hope I don’t have to change that.” He smiles, dusting off his gloves. “this village is so large I may have to stay a night or two, if that’s alright. Next farm, then?”
"Of course." His ears twitch, and he suddenly looks over to the barn, concern in his gaze. It takes him a couple of seconds before he pulls his eyes away from it. "Penny grows corn. She's right down the road. I'm sure you'll find her crop as satisfactory as my own."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
“Alright! If you don’t mind telling me, friend, what’s In that barn? No need to be specific if you don’t wanna.”
(Julius is then gonna go do a montage of him reviewing all the farms and deeming them all satisfactory, so once that happens we can skip that)
The latest recipient of one of the Spirit of Sustenance's gifts is a middle age farmhand in one of the towns near the Keep of Painted Leaves. While many of others in the town are excited for the bountiful harvest, and the feasting and festivities that will be taking place, the man mood is more mournful, for this will be the first autumn without any family to spend it with. Most of his extended family left the Autumn country in the last few years for more cheery pastures, with only his mother and him remaining. However, last winter his mother passed away due to illness, leaving the man alone.
After a long and difficult day, exasperated by all the festive energy, the man returned to his small and empty home. As the man began to settle down, preparing for another lonely and melancholy evening, a strange scent crossed his nose that caused him to freeze. The smell was familiar somehow, though he couldn't place it even as he felt the slight sting of tears in the corner of his eyes as he began to search for where the scent was coming from. The smell led him to a small bedroom, the one his mother had been staying in from the last few years of her life. The room was mostly untouched, the lingering pain from the loss of his mother detering him from entering the room where her belongings rest. However, the curiosity of the smell overcame his trepidation and he opened the door. It was modestly furnished with a bookshelf full of his mother's favorite books, a dresser, a bed, and a desk facing the window. His mother's journals and old writings are on the desk, untouched since the mother's death.
Everything was how she left it, except for the additional two items resting on the desk. As he approached the desk, he recognized the items immediately. The first was a warm and steaming mug of a dark brown liquid, hints of chocolate and cinnamon wafting from it's warm surface. The second is a full pumpkin and pecan pie with a dollop of cream on top, just like the one his mother use to make during the harvest season. The smell, stronger in the presence of the pie, was already stirring warm and fond memories of his mother and him in the kitchen when he was younger, baking up a storm for the harvest feasts, laughing, playing and enjoying themselves. As the stinging in his eyes grew from the tears welling up, he briefly looked around, wondering where this could have come from, before deciding to take a tentative bite of the pie. It was almost a perfect replica of how she use to make it, and the tears began to fall as more memories of his mother started to surface in connection to the pie. They were bittersweet now that she was gone, but he can't help but feel a little lighter.
He ends up sitting down at the desk, needing to sit and collect himself. He is still confused at where the pie came from, but at the moment all he can feel is gratitude, for his mother, for whoever or whatever gave him even a piece of her memory to enjoy even for just the one last time. He takes a sip of the warm mug, recognizing the cinnamon spiced hot coco his mother use to make whenever he felt down or had a nightmare. Another wave of nostalgia washed over him, but it wasn't as bittersweet as before. After a few moments of savoring the sip,he looks over at the old writings he left behind. He had always felt to upset to read them, the passing to raw. Maybe, with the blessing of this mysterious pick me up, he could read them now. As he leaned back in the chair with the mug, he picked up one of the notes, and began to read what his mother wrote about her life, reminiscing and indulging in some long needed catharsis.
Peeking through the window, a shadowy figure floats as he watches the man enjoying his culinary gift. Happy that it could help even for an evening, the figure looks at a large plate with an ornate turtle shell that seems to be acting as a cloche. He peeks under the cloche real quick, before he zips off and fading into the shadows, looking for his next gift's recipient.
"Meddle not in the affairs of dragons, for thou art crunchy and taste good with ketchup."
My Greater Will Google Doc
Proud member of the DragonClub! cult.
He sighs and kicks a pebble with his paw. "Well, it's a secret. Maybe ask your dad sometime. But all you need to know at the moment is that it's not dangerous as long as no one gets upset around it. Try not to talk too much about ruining our livelihoods. It's fine to do it since it's your job and all, but I'd like to break the news to people. They trust me."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
“Ah, I see... I’m sorry. And besides, that’s not gonna happen if all of the crops are as quality as yours…”
He stokes his leaf beard and thought before smiling, “I believe I can be a pretty big stick. They wouldn’t dare turn you away with me by your side.”
*Coronet, I don't want to quote your post because it's too long, but it is absolutely beautiful and I love it.*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
*I mean seriously, everybody on this thread is such a good writer… we have Baalz, Dark, and Coronet coming up with actual masterpieces.*
*It's all good, thank you! I got a bit of inspiration while thinking about the character and watching a few videos about how food can strongly trigger past memories.*
"Meddle not in the affairs of dragons, for thou art crunchy and taste good with ketchup."
My Greater Will Google Doc
Proud member of the DragonClub! cult.
"It's all good. No need to worry, I just wanted to help keep everyone calm. Now, let's get going."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
“The original word was ‘bone fire’. They mounded their dead and burned them to cleanse their world of disease and their hearts of sorrow.”
By now the pile of straw bundles is heaped up in a massive mound. The skeletons begin to climb the pile, standing silently on the straw. The one at the top lifts a torch into the air.
”We aim to do the same today.” The speaking corpse beside you begins to step towards the gathering.
*I gtg, but thank you all for the RP!*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
“I see… in all my years here, I’ve never heard of anything of the sort…” he sits down a few feet away from the hill, vines and roots growing wild around him.