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!
@willfur
