"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
Puckwudgies, the little people of the forest. His mother told him tales of these woodland fairies that are given to mischief and small bouts of magic. Why is he thinking of them now? Maybe because he's just woken up to the sweet smell of flowers in the fall and flowers should not retain their sweetness in this season - it's not possible or plausibe, but then, nothing magical is.
What is also not possible is the fact that Spear no longer looks like a stallion but a man, tall and upright, lean but muscled. His hair is black and streaming down his back, a feather tied into it, and beneath his mismatched eyes is two smears of warpaint on each cheek. Stranger still, the loincloth - yes, a loincloth because no savage can walk around completely naked. It's just uncouth and the puckwudgies would have a field day with his manly bits dangling out. So they've clothed him and put moccasins on his feet - two feet, instead of four. Oh hell!
He hears laughter and turns his head in it's direction, he sees nothing at first but glimmers of a great fire through the trees. So he's in a forest, maybe The Forest? Great, he thinks, there's a bonfire going on. He heads towards it when he hears more laughter follow him, surround him actually, from above and below even. Damn puckwudgies! So mischievous and then, he feels the back of his loincloth start to lift and a breeze blows against his bare butt. He slaps a hand down his backside only to feel a sharp sting. Damn thing bit him! More laughter. Then a puckwudgie appears and takes his hand, the bite disappears and he feels pleasantly tingly afterwards, like it drugged him via it's teeth.
"Come with me," the fairy thing says to him. "We are celebrating!"
He lets it lead him in the direction of the bonfire, finally able to hear chanting up ahead. Spear recognizes the word that is said over and over, "Beqanna." It is endless, and their feet and drums keep rhythm to the sound of the chanting. It draws him in, as does the earthen bowl thrust in his head. "Drink," it - she, maybe? - bids him and he does, downs it in one gulp. It burns his throat and settles in the pit of his stomach, hot and delicious - alcohol. He drinks more, is thrust into the midst of the dancing and chanting until his own voice joins in, "Beqanna! Beqanna! Beqanna!"
This goes on long into the night, long until the first faint rays of the dawn comes - sunrise, and they all stop and cheer and he is compelled to yell out amongst them, "Happy Birthday Beqanna!" just as the sun crests the horizon and the fire collapses in a flurry of sparks. Beqanna, land of the sunrise, has been honored by their drunken antics all night long and he is glad to have taken part, except for the loincloth incident earlier...
word count: 498
(only Spear is participating but they have a joint account)
oh, my love, don't forsake me. take what the water gave me ..
Looking around at the hillock, it doesn’t seem like much, but Circinae knows better. She’d led the boys up here at dusk with a wink and quiet promise, ushered them to rest and simply watch the sky while the colors filtered through to black and the stars began their nightly dance. Though the scene is quiet and the backdrop empty for miles in any direction, the water wolf is well aware that in the common lands, a riotous party is being held. No one threw a party like the faeries did, this was simply a fact. The rest of Beqanna would be up late tonight and bawdy with celebration, but for herself and her boys it was a scene best kept at bay until they were older and much less … innocent.
The thought gives rise to a quiet, thoughtful smile while she shifts into a little brown wolf and curls comfortably between them to wait. Corvus breaks the silence first. “Do the little glimmer sparks hurt, when they reach the earth?” He wonders aloud, and Circy shakes her head with mirthful eyes and a soft nudge to his cheek. “Not at all, they vanish - into thin air!” She explains, finding the wide stare of amazement on his face too adorable for words. “They are loud though, the fire flowers, and the -” She begins, but she’s cut off by the younger twin who screams excitedly, “LOOK, LOOK! THERE’S ONE!” So that all three are now intently staring into the night sky where a single tail of flame is rising steadily upwards from the top of the mountain.
It plateaus, hovering for a breath before exploding with white-hot light into a brilliant, dazzling display. The firework glitters, changes to intricate patterns of rainbow colors that dance and weave to make a picture of horses running wild across the night sky and her boys gasp with delight. Between the two of them and the following bursts that ensue Circy finds it hard to look too long at any one thing. Their faces are illuminated by the flashes of light and she dearly wishes that she could freeze this moment into eternity. Time passes all too quickly these days.
Yet, surrounded by their laughter and love Circy soon finds herself enraptured by the bold display of magic until she ushers a silent prayer of thanks to the fey - for giving her children, for giving her this moment, for giving her happiness when she felt she no longer deserved it. The heavens come alive and together, she and her boys make memories that will outlast even time itself.
06-20-2017, 07:08 PM (This post was last modified: 06-20-2017, 07:09 PM by Molotov.)
I'm gonna set this world on fire
Soft chitter chatter was upon the breeze this sunshiny morning. The forests of Beqanna couldn't conceal it's joy over... A birthday...? Sweet sixteen to be exact. A fluffy tailed rodent scampered about collecting flowers for the occasion. Soon joined by a red breasted Robin, the unlikely pair stopped their bustling for a moment. This will be a grand party. We best hurry and not be late!
A party huh?! I LOVE parties!! As quickly as she had intercept their thoughts she questioned them, A party you say... Where is this party? Without hesitation the rabbit darted off... Follow me. We must not be late!
Finding an easy pace behind the creature she followed. Leading her thru a thicket and crashing onto the other side they stood in a remote clearing. A long table stretched across it constructed of a split tree truck. Filled with flowers, berries, nuts, greens, and... cake! Her tummy growled as her onyx eyes remained fixated upon it's creamy layers. She had barely noticed the other creatures gathered around the table. Birds, rodents, deer, and of course equines.
Glad you could make it, Molotov.
Her attention shifted to a small equine shaped Sprite fluttering before her. She had only ever heard of the fairies and was quite amused by the sight. Their colorful iridescent wings and bright colors were quite intriguing. I wouldn't miss a party!
No... I wouldn't imagine so...She chuckled, Come, have a drink.
The sprite motioned a pink laced cup to her ruby lips. She sipped the drink in delight as her gaze shifted about. The others were giggling and carrying on as was custom for parties. Soon she was feeling a tad loosey goosey. Watch this!... Grabbing a candle from the cake she held the small flame to the surface of the liquid inside her cup. Immediately it took to the flame creating a blueish hue as it burned. Leaping upon the table, she rolled onto her back. Careful to not tip the flaming drink over she placed her butt to the flame. Squinting her eyes and holding in air she clenched.... Annnddd... BOOM! The flames raged as her fart ignited, almost blasting a fairy to a crispy bug.
Round and round, she was spinning. She couldn’t help the little bubble of happy that tripped from her heart and out her mouth at the dizzying tilt to her balance. It was a fun little bouncing vibration that didn’t seem to stop once it started. And there was a foreign thump thump beating rhythmically in her chest, a dancing pattern of tones she could feel pounding pleasantly against her ribs.
Noses prodded at her, urging her around again, around in place, and she could feel her face was as happy as her heart. It felt so nice, so friendly. She was so used to being snapped at and chased away. They stuck something light and flimsy to the top of her muzzle, startling her though the touch was still so gentle. Friendly.
Until they let her go and pushed her!
She stumbled in the infinite darkness. Endless black everywhere, always. Almost immediately, something sliced across her shoulder - someone cut her! It was followed with a rumbling crash as something fell, a lot of smaller somethings. She felt more vibration in her throat as she wailed in shock and pain. And fear. It was a sound that would never reach her own ears, guttural and raw. Terrified.
The familiar heat and wet of her blood pooled and spilled over, tickling a trail down her leg that knew that path so intimately. She didn’t bother counting anymore how many times in a day - or night, they were all the same to her - she would wind up with similar injuries.
That beat echoing in her chest still continued, so much darker now, so much more sinister and frightening. Like a beast cackling, watching her panic, her frantic fight to escape as the thing attached to her nose fluttered with her movements. She tumbled again, another vibration of things falling all around her and suddenly thick, messy stuff all over her. It was sticky and clinging, but she scrambled to her feet anyway, twisting and shaking the sweet-smelling thing off of her as she scuttled away.
She turned - and her nose smacked right into something else. Something tall and hard and funny-smelling, and the flappy thing on her face finally dislodged from her. She angled again and bolted for her life, terrified.
She couldn’t hear the laughter and guffaws.
Couldn’t see the beaming smiles of mirth and merriment.
And congratulations! Because she’d won.
She had no idea she just pinned the tutu on Carnage.
It wasn't long ago the fairies had shown mercy to a broken filly. Bringing her from the depths of despair and showing her mercy. Bestowing upon her a gown of emerald and gold to hide her misfortunes. She was grateful to them and owed them her life. So when she had caught word that they were celebrating a birthday... But not just ANY birthday, a sweet sixteen birthday, she was quick to act...
Waking early that morning she rushed to the meadow. Gathering daisy's and poppy's of all assorted colors, creating a grand bouquet. Swiftly securing them together with an ivy vine as she hid them behind a stump at the edge of the treeline...
Racing into the forests she seeked out an apple tree. Grabbing a few ripe juicy apples she placed them between her wings and darted off again. Coming upon the stump again she placed the apples beside the flowers. Her breathing rapid she waited a moment before heading out again. An undeniable excitement etched upon her dished face...
Turning back into the forests she turned her sights to the tree tops. Whistling a melody, she waited for a response. A mocking whistle soon called to her. Smiling happily she whistle another tune. A mirrored imitation sung back. Perfect, she thought to herself. Now to find the fairies...
She knew where they would be so she gathered her things and headed to the mountain. The trek was treacherous. A narrow winding path of loose rocks shifted under her hooves. She would not give up, they had not given up on her...
Finally reaching a overlook near the top she had just reached it before dusk. The skies streaked a brilliant pink behind her. She whistled quietly hoping they had followed, and they had. Her sweet voice called out, " Hello... Fairies?! I have a surprise for you." Soon each appeared in front of her as the same orbs of light that led her here. "I just wanted to say Happy Birthday! And I got you these," removing the bouquet she laid it upon the ground in front of her. Then the apples. And just as the sunset upon the horizon she began to sing Happy Birthday as a choir of Mockingbirds hummed along...
Delicate things are pretty - cute, even, but you are not delicate. You are wild and lewd and unpredictable. You are breathtaking. You are beautiful.
An invitation. My, oh my, how thrilling. I have never before been to a birthday party, so this could be interesting. It takes me a moment to comprehend what a birthday party might be, but when I do - oh, the excitement!
The whole thought is just a bit confusing though, the what’s and how’s, the details of it all. I can’t quite wrap my head around it.
Somehow though, it seems to have all been taken care of, because on the big day, suddenly I am there. I’m not really too sure how, but I try not to think too hard on it. Beqanna has her mysterious ways, and I am certainly not one to question or judge them.
So, the big day, here and bold and exciting. And there I am, dressed in incredible finery fit for a… horse? That’s right, clothing for a horse. Just picture it. It is as lovely as you’re thinking. Flowing gowns and flowery headdresses and jingling bells tied into manes and tails. It’s perfect. I feel like a princess. A magical fairy princess.
But this is a party for a fairy after all, isn’t it?
Unfortunately things do not turn out quite all that. You see, there is something I failed to mention. I’m a bit of an oddity. I mean, there are many, many unique creatures out there, so, really, I’m just a bit unusual. Perhaps in a less, er, conventional way though. You see, I have a third eye. An eye, bold as you please, right there in the middle of my forehead.
This is a party! Everyone is supposed to be nice and have fun. But oh the names they call me. Freak. Monster. Cyclops. Cruel and hurtful things I can’t even bear to mention.
Why had I even come at all? I thought it would fun, the greatest time of my life. Instead I find myself tucked into an out of the way corner. Behind a row of tables bearing apple punch and delightful little carrot cakes. All delicious and lovely and perfect. All reminders of how this incredible day had turned out to be the worst experience of my life. Instead I cower, pretending not to notice the world, pretending not to notice the music that drifts by, bright and cheerful and far too happy for my mood. Instead I squeeze my three eyes shut, trying my best to hold the tears at bay and failing miserably.
And then, as I huddle there in the corner, lost in my misery, a new song begins a play. It takes a moment for the words to register, but when they do, I nearly laugh. How incredibly fitting. “It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to, cry if I want to, cry if I want to. You would cry to if it happened to you.”
If only it had been my party. I would have kicked all those horrid bullies out.
06-20-2017, 11:21 PM (This post was last modified: 06-20-2017, 11:31 PM by Zoryn.)
He's never been one for birthdays before. Never found them significant. Hell, his family certainly had never celebrated them. But now, he has daughters. Twin girls- absolutely gorgeous girls. Sassy and cunning like their momma. Now, he can understand. While he may have never cared before, now he can see how this particular birthday was rather special. Beqanna's 16th. Were it not for her and the Fae that shaped it, Zoryn would not be here. Nor would Dizzy. Nor their beautiful little girls. Zyn and Zoe, in their -mostly- innocent youth, had been delighted in the idea of a birthday celebration. Especially when he'd explained to them that it is thanks to Beqanna that they exist and have a place to call home.
So, they'd gotten to work, preparing. They'd discussed it at first, what they would do for her- what they could bring. Zyn and Zoe decided on special glittery fairy cupcakes. Bright batches of varying colors, topped with translucent ribbon tied in bows to resemble fairy wings. Zoryn wasn't one for glitter and bright colors, but this wasn't for him. He and Diz agreed the fairies would probably love it, so they all set to work. By the end, they were all a glittery and sugary mess, but they had fun and were ready for the party.
Each girl, totally insistent on being the bearers, carried a tray of the colorful treats. With Diz and Zor close behind, smiling proudly about their girls, they were ready in case they would need to rescue should they lose balance. Along with the cupcakes, the adults each carried bottles of something called tye-dye punch. Pretty cool lookin stuff, if he was forced to admit. Flavorful liquid that was somehow a mix of colors that don't blend together, and thus swirl freely within the clear bottles for everyone to see. Quite fitting, the twins had thought it would be for the fairies' special day.
They arrived to the Mountain, and knew right where to go. Too hard to miss the huge tent and the colorful banner that read "Beqanna's Sweet Sixteen". Maypoles adorn the area, one for each fairy, decorated with ribbons and baubles according to each one's colors and preferences. Each poll had a table closeby with matching decor, already towering with gifts. Damn, they hadn't thought of gifts. But at least they'd come with treats. Thought that counts, right?
There was a separate table for food and drinks, and the four of them added their items among the rest. A smiling fairy passed by and made a sweeping gesture, and a crystal bowl appeared on the table before them- for their punch. They smile so bright and wide as the fairy waved again, and fuzzy blue and purple boas appear around each girls' neck. "Thank you!" They shout in unison, as the fairy poofs over to join her own sisters. Zoryn and his family join the fray of people, just as they all begin to sing the birthday song.
Word count: 500
'Use' of Disastardly and Zynistra approved by SamShine and Toli, respectively. <3
life unfolds in pools of gold I am only owed this shape if I make a line to hold
He wakes to a twin-framed view of the world.
Everyone is wearing masks. Bright, vibrant things that conceal the identity of the wearer. A party, he thinks, looking around at the cloth-covered tables and streamers cascading down the stairwells. There are presents stacked high on one of the tables. Boxes in every shape and size form a precarious monument of adoration for whoever’s birthday it is. The masks aren’t the only adornment worn by the party-goers. Everyone seems to be smiling, young and old, and it is easy enough for Buckthorn to join them.
He slides into conversations with his effortless charm, realizing quickly just who he is celebrating with. Two grey-haired, stern-faced men stand with folded arms chatting with one another, accessing the room. Buck sees that one’s suit coat is literally flowing like a waterfall, the water pooling at his feet. The other reaches out to shake his hand firmly, his face as chiseled as a mountain. “Dale, pleasure.” He skirts by the two men and narrowly avoids a hit from a noisemaker blown by a girl dressed as a meadow. Two rabbits wave at him with toothy grins from her shoulders as he passes. An old lady beams at him from the dessert table and beckons him over. Her face glows like the sun, and as he moves even closer, he finds himself getting hotter and hotter. When the Neapolitan ice cream he scoops instantly melts, Buck heads for new company.
The young crowd is fun and energetic, eager and happy. But he finds he prefers the older attendees - their stories are endless and their drinking even more so, as if they have nothing to lose.
He is about to mosey over to a pretty lady wearing only vines and a mask made out of banana leaves when he is pulled out of his trajectory. A firm grip keeps him pinned to the wall. He feels his feet flailing without footing, piney breath washes over him. “We’re gonna crash this party, ya hear? Me and my crew – and you.” Buck shakes his head, sure the last thing he will see is the sea of primary-colored party hats. A younger woman comes up behind the older man. Her eyes burn a fiery red even through her lava shade mask. She kicks his pine breath captor in the shin and the ground shakes, freeing him. “Careful you don’t start a war. At least not on Mother’s birthday.”
“Thank you,” Buck smiles then grimaces as sulfur replaces the pleasant pine in his nostrils. Seeing the change on his face, Tephra flips him off and stalks away. He sees her first in line at the present table, eager to pass along her gift before anyone else. A bugle plays the call to races and Buck has the strangest urge to trot over to the gathering’s center. “3, 2, 1 – Happy birthday Beqanna!” They scream as a white light tracks downward. Masks fly off. All will be revealed -
As far as birthdays go, this seems to be rather a large one. Of course, she cannot truly say, seeing as she has had no birthdays before. Well, except this one. This very first birthday.
It’s been an odd one so far. Well, odd to her, at least. She really wasn’t quite sure what to expect, it being her first birthday and all. There seems to be a lot of cooing involved. A lot of happy, smiling faces, big, engulfing hugs, and wet kisses. The joyful hailing and boisterous crowing, all centered around well wishes and bright “Happy Birthday!”s. It really is all very confusing. She is only a year old after all. Far too young and naive and innocent to be aware of such large, raucous gatherings.
Well, loud and raucous to her. Perhaps not to others.
Some of it is really quite exciting though, moments that make her heart beat just a bit faster and a sweet, joyous smile spread across her youthful, delicate features. For starters, the food.
Delicious.
At one point, they even set a large cake in front of her. A lovely thing with thick white frosting and a large ‘1’ sprawled across the top. At first, she really just doesn’t know what to do with it. At least until she sticks her nose right into the confection, and a round of cheers erupts through the gathered crowd of onlookers. And oh lord is it delicious. Creamy and fluffy and just about the best thing ever. Even the bulbs flashing constantly in her face cannot put her off that delightful creation. They let her eat until she is full, no one making a fuss or even saying a word about the ungodly mess she is creating.
The rest of the day passes in something of a blur. That delicious confection had been the highlight of day, but she does remember the presents too. The satisfying rip of paper followed by the exciting reveal. Some had been less exciting, but others had been thrilling. Sounds and colors galore.
But even that cannot sustain her all day, even the thrill of new things and scrumptious food cannot keep her eyes open forever. But when they slide shut, her will no longer strong enough to fight the battle against sleep, she drifts off to the soft sounds of chatter and the feeling of a full, contented heart.
AuroraElis
