Novus
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Novus closed 10/31/2022, after The Gentle Exodus

Interactive Quest  - [ RACE ] not the carcass but the spark

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Played by Offline Cannon [PM] Posts: 134 — Threads: 26
Signos: 80
Inactive Character
#1


andras

i am angry.
i have nothing to say about it.
i am not sorry for the cost.


W
hat would you shed, if you could shed anything? Peel back the skin and see the blood and the bone and the muscle that makes up who you are, for better or worse? What would you cleanse?

Andras has never wondered.

He is painted red, like blood. What started as small circles and patterns became one glob of wet paint after the other, until he is red almost head to toe. He touches the brush to his knees and watches it soak into his coat. He drags it down and then up, red stocking that become a red vest that become a full-bodied statement. When he approaches the start line, he is the kind of mottled color that comes with paint that dries slowly, only a crack to show the black face beneath. The lighter color hugs his ribs in ways his natural one won't. It draws the eye to the sharp shoulders of his wings. For good measure, before he nods and departs, Andras splashes paint over the rim of his glasses, which stare back at him less like a mirror and more like circles of wood. He tucks them away, a pocket beneath one of the tables where no one will look.

He wonders, What do I look like, for perhaps the first time in his life.
The answer is nothing spectacular. The effect is dulled somewhat by the red-gray smear at his elbows and jaw where the skin rubs together. The dry bits are flaking because he cannot stand still. Later he will shed it in sheets like a snake: another metaphor on the heap of metaphors that unzip him, inch by inch, as the night wears on.

By the time the race is about to start he is breathing so quiet he is not getting enough air, sucking it silently through his nose and holding on. Around him it is almost bright enough to be day. There is music, and laughter, but instead of growing it becomes quieter as the night wears on and Denocte's citizens start to give him strange, inviting looks.

"Warden," someone asks him-- he doesn't know who, because he doesn't look; he is busy breathing quietly, and feeling his skin tighten where the paint has now dried. He wonders how they still know him. He suposes the tight line of his mouth and the audible sound of his teeth grinding against each other might give him away.

"Warden," they insist, now.
"What." He says, without looking. Without asking.
"What are you hoping to cleanse?"

It's a simple enough question, and an understandable one. It's not like his people know him well. When he is not holed away in the library he is leering through the streets with a snarl on his face. It is not exactly the picture of approachability. Sane men do not paint themselves red all over and call it art. Andras tilts one ear, nothing more, their way.

"I'm not here to cleanse anything. I'm just here to--" he pauses. Perhaps it says more than he can. "--race."

What are you hoping to cleanse? What would you shed, if you could shed anything. Andras thinks of Pilate, as Andras often does, chewing the inside of his cheek. He can't tell if he has any sins. He wonders if he can burn away someone else's.

The call goes out. The line starts to form. Andras stretches his wings to crack the paint.
@Official Dawn Account




they made you into a weapon
and told you to find peace.





Played by Offline Callynite [PM] Posts: 75 — Threads: 22
Signos: 50
#2




to leap through the flames or not -


T
here is expectation hanging heavy in the air, as you take your place among the other horses lined up at the start of the race. Your heart hammers inside of your chest, nearly in time with the drums that begin to beat out the time remaining to the start of the race. On either side the bonfires dance along to its rhythm, waves of colored light flickering along the backs of the people who have gathered close by.

And through it all the song keeps weaving, in lilting tones that rise and fall with the flames. It’s captivating — and as you stare into the flames a thousand colors begin to leap within them. Reds and golds, violets and greens, blues and silvers, all of them twist together like plaits of a many-stranded braid. The air is thick with the smoke and incense curling around you, drawing you in deeper and deeper. As the tempo speeds up, you see a figure parting the smoke like waves.

The horse that stands in front of those who have lined up to start the race is the color of soot, with eyes that burn as brightly as the fires. Strange runes are painted (or are they scarred?) down their sides, shimmering as the light falls upon them. The stranger does not smile, nor speak — they only stare at you with their fiery eyes. There is nothing gentle about the look they give you, or about the way they seem to look through you instead of at you.

With a curt nod of his head, the music abruptly stops. The bonfires shiver in golden tones on either side, and the line of horses readies themselves.

A single cry marks the start of the race.

Every horse leaps forward as one through the smoke, and you with them.

The beginning of the race is a flat stretch, with each struggling to gain the lead. A row of fires lights the way, but perhaps the way they close in around you and block your path is cause for alarm. Or maybe you are one of those vying for first position, and do not notice the way the smoke grows thicker, and darker, and heavier, like something more than wood is burning, going into the first turn.

And yet directly ahead of you a new fire waits, like a hedge of flames waiting to be jumped. The fires reach hungrily for the air, for you, and something — perhaps it is instinct, or fear — tells you it will not be so simple. On either side of the fire is a path leading around, a slender space big enough for one to pass through at a time. Against the brightness of the fires, the darkness of the path on the right makes it impossible to see what lies in wait.

But to the left, there is a spark glowing red and hot.




To continue the race, 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 first obstacle features a fiery hedge that your character must decide to jump through or run around. The race splits here, and their decision here will influence the rest of the event for them.

Choices: run through the fire, take the right path, or take the left path.
@Andras













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