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a word spoken by the sunlight [quest] - Aspara - 06-06-2020
I think that of all the places in Novus, the most magic is to be found in the forests of Delumine. I met a birch tree there once. There were birds nested in his branches, lichen sprawling up his neck. He called me a little tree, and it was one of my proudest moments.
I did not believe I would ever see him again, but that did not stop me from looking. The evening of the festival, as everyone else gathered around the lights and the meadow and the river (the safety in numbers almost tangible, like a blanket) I turned away from the crowds and followed my heart into the forest which so enchanted me.
I knew it could be dangerous– that went unspoken anywhere darkness and shadow lingered so thickly. But I also felt an indescribable sense of comfort beneath all those heavy boughs. I had the feeling the trees were old friends, or maybe family, and like old friends they would have my back if I ran into trouble. I had Furfur with me, too, quiet and slick as sunset, and with him by my side I felt untouchable.
When the voices started, I just thought it was my magic. Dead roots and stones and dried-out leaves sometimes talked to me, if they had something they really wanted said. These voices were a little… different. They had a pull to them that was almost physical. I attributed it to the forest magic until the grey stranger stepped forward and began to speak.
Furfur growled as the stallion stepped into the warmth of the lantern’s glow. His golden eyes reminded me of the sun peeking over the horizon at first light. I said nothing, only listened intently to his words, and when he melted back into the shadows I stepped forward down the vacant path.
I’m not sure how long I walked. Time was strange there, in the quiet stillness of the forest. But at some point there was a crack as a branch snapped underfoot behind me. I whirled around with alarm. “Who’s there?” The twist of my horn was lowered and pointed at the darkness, and in that moment I felt no fear at all. I was seized by a sense of utter calm. Perhaps it was the influence of the tall trees; I imagined their roots sinking deep into the earth and imagined myself doing the same, grounding myself into a world with more strength and age and wisdom than I could imagine.
FIRE!
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RE: a word spoken by the sunlight [quest] - Leonidas - 06-29-2020
RE: a word spoken by the sunlight [quest] - Official Dawn Account - 06-30-2020
the first choice
As you begin the pathway, the forest around you seems to come alive. There are birds of every size and shape flitting from branch to branch overhead, vibrant blue butterflies dancing around your hooves, rustlings in the nearby bushes. Perhaps you are familiar with the woods, and they seem peaceful to you; or perhaps every creak of the branches makes your senses jump, and every shadow dancing just out of sight has your skin crawling.
Or perhaps it feels as though the forest is watching you. Maybe the woodland animals are not the only things alive here.
Regardless, as you venture further into the forest, the festival noises are replaced entirely with the sounds of flora and fauna, and the glow of the lanterns placed along the pathway is greater than what little sunlight manages to break through the canopy. It feels intimate here, and whether you came with company or alone, you begin to feel acutely aware of how alone you are walking in the woods.
It is not long before the rustling in the leaves grows louder, and another set of footsteps begin to echo your’s. But when you turn to look, only the empty forest path greets your eyes. The trees shiver, the light in the nearest lantern begins to waver; and from the shadows, a new light begins to shine as a thousand fireflies wander down the trail.
For a moment, they seem to form the outline of another horse. But when you blink the image slips away, and the fireflies swarm together. They drift near to you, almost shyly, cautiously; the wind seems to be holding its breath, waiting, waiting. The fireflies reach out to you like an old friend, their light falling across your face. And then as one they turn, gathering once more into the likeness of a horse. And without turning, without caring for the old man’s warning, they step off the forest path and into the forest. Without the warm glow of the lanterns, they make their own light weaving between the trees, casting strange rays of light that seem to linger too long in the darkness, reaching back to you.
As if beckoning to you to follow.
To continue the quest, you must reply to this thread with your character's choice. There is no word limit, and you can be as creative with the prompt as you'd like! In this round, it seems as though a horde of fireflies are trying to show your character something...
Choices: stay on the path, or follow the fireflies
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RE: a word spoken by the sunlight [quest] - Aspara - 07-01-2020
A boy quietly emerged from the shadows. He was kind of godlike. (I say kind of because I am loath to compliment any boy.) Part of this was his appearance-- the golden antlers, the heavy wings-- but mostly it was the way he walked like a prince, like a king. Like a god. He moved with a confidence I would personally not grow into for a while.
My instinct was to marvel at this beautiful boy, but I leaned away from my sense of awe. I distrusted it, for I had the stupid, heavy, foreboding sense that everything good would be taken from me, and everything beautiful could be ruined, and distance was the kindest gift I could give to anything I admired.
Maybe I should have asked myself why I strove so hard to be kind.
But back then I didn’t. Maybe I couldn’t-- Maybe you have to go a certain distance before you can look back and see how foolish was the path you chose. (I hope when you look back, whoever you are and however far you’ve come, you will have the grace to laugh at yourself.)
His antlers, tipped so gracefully up to the thick canopy, reminded me of a prayer. I wasn’t taught how to pray, and I was never interested in learning, but still I was struck by that thought. I lifted my head from it’s aggressive (defensive) stance, and I did not smile but I still softened ever so slightly. I want it to be very clear, I only softened-- I did not melt.
When he stepped forward I stepped back. And when I saw the subtle lines of his frown, the barest wrinkling of his lips, I frowned too. I failed to see (or smell) what might make me such unpleasant company. (Only I was able to berate myself my awkwardness, my great silences, my sad eyes) “Aspara.” I said briefly, trying my hardest to convey in the three syllables of my name that I was not impressed by this pretty stranger, no siree.
When he said “the forest is different tonight” I glanced into its depths as if to confirm. But I already knew, I already felt the difference too, and I nodded shortly in agreement. The only thing that bothered me is I could not tell if it was a good difference or a bad one.
“I’m not lost.” Well, I did not know exactly where I was, but that was not the same as being lost-- right? “They said the same thing to me too,” I admitted after a heartbeat’s consideration. “What do you think it all means?”
Then there was another rustle of leaves underfoot, and again I turned to face the sound with the dangerous twist of my horn. But it was only-- and maybe, here, my memories are blurred, faulty, but this is what they are-- it was only a group of fireflies.
I smiled as they danced closer, illuminating me and Leo in their beautiful glow. (How I would love to glow like that! To carry such light)And then they formed the shape of a horse and they diverged into the darkness of the forest, which only seemed that much darker for the light of their glow. I took a step off the path before I remembered the strange man who said not to stray too far from the trail. I bit my lip, an ugly gesture I know, and glanced to the boy. I felt as though circumstances bound us, at least for the moment. And though I normally might have asked “should we follow them?” I was still quite bothered by his beauty and his split-second frown. I did not want to consult him. More importantly, I did not want him to think I wanted to consult him.
I also did not particularly want to go into the dark forest alone. In fact I had a fairly bad feeling about this. If I was alone I would have listened to it; but I wasn’t and it made me reckless. Like I had something to prove with my bravery. So I ducked forward to press my muzzle to the boy’s shoulder. It was less of a kiss and more of a boyish shove. Close as we were I could taste his wildness, and I was struck by a sense I would not understand later the next day, as I poured through my own memories. Longing.
“Let’s follow them,” I said in an eager tone that left no room for argument. I stepped off the path and into the forest, guided by the gentle light of the fireflies.
FOR THE TREES!
@
RE: a word spoken by the sunlight [quest] - Leonidas - 07-18-2020
RE: a word spoken by the sunlight [quest] - Official Dawn Account - 07-25-2020
the ghost-horses
The fireflies bob along ahead of you, leading you further and further away from the beaten trail. And as the trees close in around you, leaves whispering amongst themselves overhead, the lantern-light from the events begin to fade into the background. The shush, shush, shush of the trees start to give way to a murmur of voices, pressing in from the shadows.
The light-horse leading your way breaks into a run.
Through the forest it races, fallen leaves and forest soil shuddering in its wake, shedding fireflies like wishes. More and more fireflies appear, and form more light-horses that crash into the darkness and send the shadows fleeing. And with them, the warnings about the forest melt away when you follow.
But soon the trees fall away, and in the midst of a clearing the light-horses slow and turn to face you. Silver grass waves at you gently in a lingering breeze, waving you closer as a whisper rises from them. Mist weaves around their stalks like slender snakes, and as the fireflies begin to disperse, the mists begin to rise and take their place. A mist-foal framed with fireflies whinnies at you.
It takes a slow step towards you, breath whuffing softly over your face. The magic holding it together trembles.
And then, mist-hooves flashing as it rears, the ghost-foal begins to dance around you. The grass whispers louder and louder, as more mist-horses rise from the earth and join the dance. They whisper to you, dozens of voices that weave and blend together. Some of them whisper your name; or perhaps they repeat phrases of meaning back to you, phrases you hold dear in your heart. Perhaps you recognize the dancing foal, and perhaps it speaks to you kindly as it invites you to play a game of chase.
Or perhaps you see something malevolent in the way all those mist-horses surround you, and in the way their voices start to sound more like a hiss than a whisper.
To continue the quest, you must reply to this thread with your character's choice. There is no word limit, and you can be as creative with the prompt as you'd like! The fireflies have led you to a clearing, where dozens of mist-spirits rise from the silver grass and fog. They press in around you, whispering quietly to you - what are they saying? Are they friends or foes? Are you falling under their trance, or only unsettled by the ghosts?
Choices: double back to the path, or play with the mist-spirits
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RE: a word spoken by the sunlight [quest] - Aspara - 07-25-2020
I cannot understate the power of friendships born in wild places. Among the trees, and the earth, and the bone-deep shadows; in many ways I think our fate was sealed that day.
Like I said earlier-- looking back on that evening, most of my memories seem to have blurred together. Everything happened so quickly, and so strangely, and there was of course an unusual magic afoot. Despite all that, I remember a few things with extreme clarity...
One and two: I remember the flower that bloomed suddenly before him, and the way he hardly noticed it. Then I remember the way he reacted when I touched him. It was like... it was like he had been burned. To be honest, it hurt my feelings. “Oh” I felt a flush rise in my cheeks, unbidden and unwanted but there nonetheless. I felt ugly, untouchable-- and I knew, I knew my self-worth should not be determined by some random, wild boy! But it was, and it hurt and so it became a relief of sorts to turn away to the darkness of the forest and plunge myself into it, as though I could be unravelled so easily and return to the beautiful mystery from which we all are born.
Three: The way he said my name. I looked behind me then, surprise and concern twisted across my brow. Me? He could have simply said “wait!” but he didn’t, he said my name. My name. It was strange to hear it on a boy’s tongue. The sound of it made me hesitate, yet I also wanted to laugh-- for it was said with a kind of indignance, like he wasn’t used to someone else making the decisions. This pleased me immensely for pride was and has always been (for whatever reason-- we needn’t explore it now) an enemy of mine. And as I looked back to him with that expression of dumbfounded surprise (the unimpressed rise of my brow suggested “why don’t you just keep up?”) I was struck by the expression on his face. That smile, wild as my sister’s-- I felt my own lips instinctively tug upward in response.
Four: At some point among the chaos as we burst through the forest came the tap-tap of our horns gently knocking as we ran in stride-- and as that sound coursed down into my bones I had the distinct feeling that we were bound, for better or for worse, for the rest of our lives.
Whatever may become of us, Leo, I swear to you it was born in that moment, with the forest as our witness.
Five: The clearing.
The particular image of that clearing, and the shifting shapes of the fireflies which led us to it, will forever be burned into my mind. In particular the way they formed the shape of a filly. At first I thought they were mirroring me, for she (excuse me, for I cannot help but to refer to the group of fireflies, in that form, as “she”) had my horn. My mother’s horn. But the lights gathered thickly in an all too familiar band around her neck.
It was Avesta.
My stomach clenched. “You’re not really here.” My voice was probably lacking in conviction, because she was there. It was so clearly my sister, in the form of a three dimensional constellation of fireflies. She trotted in place and beckoned to me and my heart twisted painfully in my chest with the keen awareness of everything I did not have.
“Leonidas?” I found myself reaching out to touch him again, although in a way that was very different from the first. I shuffled over to press my shoulder to his and this time there was something gentle, maybe even pleading, about my touch. I needed reassurance that I was not seeing and hearing things, that I was not alone. I did not fully trust the fireflies, as much as they captivated me. Some instinct drove me to have a vague feeling of defensiveness, and this time I listened to it. “It’s a trick, right?”
Avesta lifted her head in protest. She reared up and pawed at the sky, indignant. In the flesh she had been barely contained, but the fireflies that shaped her were not so restricted. They surged outward in an angry wave, then coalesced once more in the shape of a girl.
I laughed, partly in disbelief and partly in awe, and when I turned to Leonidas our faces were both alight in the precious glow of lost sisters. “Right?”
I didn't want to, but for some reason I trusted him.
THE REASON THEY CAN FLY
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RE: a word spoken by the sunlight [quest] - Leonidas - 07-29-2020
RE: a word spoken by the sunlight [quest] - Official Dawn Account - 08-04-2020
the transformation
A shiver seems to run collectively through the spirits, when they realize you are here to stay. They press in eagerly, closer and closer, until their fireflies brush their wings against your skin and mist wraps around your legs. A dozen pairs of glowing eyes stare at you solemnly. And still they whisper.
The ghost foal alone dances through them all, spinning and careening, hooves flashing brightly before disappearing into indistinct mist. Its little hooves never touch the ground, and yet the silver grass bobs and weaves beneath its steps. And the more it dances, the more the forest and the grass and the sky above seems to fade into fog.
They say on this night, the line separating the realm of the spirits and the realm of the living begins to blur. Unbidden, a phrase you don’t remember hearing repeats itself in your mind: when the spirits are allowed to walk in the land of the living for the night, so too can the living become trapped in the spirit world…
The color begins to bleed from the moon.
Little by little, the color is drained from the world surrounding you. Perhaps when you look down, you are surprised to see a once-bright coat reduced to shades of white, and grey, and black.
All around the spirits seem to be changing, solidifying: the mist pulls away from them, and moves to you instead. The edges of your hooves disappear into the mist twining around your body, as your form becomes less corporeal. And then bit by bit, you begin to fade. The voices of the spirits become louder, laughter breaking through the small clearing as one by one, they turn and disappear into the forest. ”Thank you,” they say, in voices that have turned unsettling cold, ”it has been so long since we last felt the breeze upon our skin…” Perhaps it is only now that a pit of dread settles in your belly, watching as the spirits become the living.
The dancing mist-foal, now a grulla colt, is the last to leave. He turns and smiles widely at you, sweeping into a bow. ”It’s not so bad,” he says, as if to console you - but he is already stepping away. ”They say there’s another way back, if you are true in spirit. They say the waters of the Rapax can reverse the curse.” He stops and looks at you from over one shoulder, with a look that is hard to place. Perhaps it is one of sadness, or hope - or perhaps there is only something feral gleaming in his eyes. ”But only if you make it there before you lose your body.” With a laugh, he bounds away. And the mist creeps further up your body, as if to emphasize the little time you have left. And yet you can’t help but feel there is another way, and that the little mist-foal is the key to it...
To continue the quest, you must reply to this thread with your character's choice. There is no word limit, and you can be as creative with the prompt as you'd like! The ghosts have tricked you. The longer you tarried with them, the more the magic was allowed to work: it gave the spirits their bodies back, while stealing your's! Slowly, you are being turned to mist, cursed to live in the spirit realm. Unless, you find a way back... As always, be creative as possible! Is the foal, in his own way, trying to help you, or show kindness? Or has your character lost all hope in them?
Choices: chase after the spirit, or race to the river
Disclaimer: there is no wrong choice here, and effects from this quest will only be as permanent as you desire! This will be your characters final choice in this thread, if you have any concerns or questions, please reach out to @sid!
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RE: a word spoken by the sunlight [quest] - Aspara - 08-11-2020
If Leonidas wasn’t there, if we didn’t talk about it later, comparing details, filling in the holes in each other’s memories, I would have chalked it all up to a strange dream or stranger magic. But it was real. It happened. The fireflies and the mist changed their shape and the voices grew louder but still not quite distinguishable-- trying to listen was like catching fog. The boy lunged at them but it didn’t have much effect at all- they scattered in an instant, and returned when the instant was past. He returned to me and once again my horn tapped the tine of his antlers, and just as I was about to speak--
The color began to drain from everything.
I looked at Leonidas, the brightest thing in this forest, brighter even than fireflies, and watched the color fade from his skin. Mist took its place, coming in close and clammy, indifferent to the stomp of my feet and the swing of my head to disrupt it. “Thank you,” the voices said, and only as the temperature dropped did it begin to sink in-- the extent of their treachery.
It was simple: The ghostly bodies became tangible flesh, and the opposite was happening to me.
I probably should not have believed the colt when he told us the waters of the Rapax could reverse the curse. The spirits had already tricked us once, why not again? Maybe if I knew how to hold onto my anger better, if I knew how to wield rage as a weapon, I would run down the ghosts-made-flesh and paint for them the full spectrum of corporeal suffering. The mist was rising from the bottom of my hooves so my horn, twisted and deadly, would be the last solid piece of my body. I knew without a doubt that I could catch him.
But where I should have felt anger, I only felt fear. And where violence wanted to spring from me, only compassion flowered. Those words kept ringing through my head: “It has been so long since we last felt the breeze upon our skin...”
If the spirit still held the form of Avesta, I would not have hesitated. There was no force in the world that would have kept me from leaping after her deeper and deeper into the night. But as the mist solidified into a grulla colt, I knew the truth for what it was. Avesta was not here. Avesta was across the sea, and she was going to come back to me. I felt so bad for the spirits. But I was not ready to give up my body. I still had so much to do with my life.
I did not know what Leonidas was thinking or feeling. But I knew what I had to do. We had to get to the Rapax before our bodies were completely gone to mist. “Come on!” I barrelled to the river as fast as my young legs could take me. It’s difficult to describe how exactly I knew where the river was... I guess from an early age I’ve been able to read the landscape like a book. I’ve always known where to find water, food, and shelter, even if the clues weren’t easy to see, or even visible at all. Maybe it was some element of my magic, talking to sticks and stones and underground rivers. Or maybe I just had a sense for it.
We took off in a more or less straight shot; I quickly picked up a deer trail that wove through the trees. It was soon pointless jumping small bushes and fallen logs, as our legs were almost entirely ethereal-- one small benefit, I suppose, to being cursed. I couldn’t tell you how long we ran. A few minutes? A few hours? I was beyond thinking at that point-- you had to be, to run like we did. Tails streaming like banners, shoulders nicked by sticks and brambles. No sound between us but the shared hymn of our panting, for our ghostly legs ate up the distance without actually touching the earth.
When we got to the river I plunged into the water recklessly-- better to have an injured body than none at all-- and I turned to look at Leonidas with wide-eyed fear, waiting for the beautiful, rich browns and golds to return to his skin. I was breathing too hard to speak, so for the first time I prayed, to whoever might be listening: “please work please work please work.”
THE REASON THEY CAN FLY
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