"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
06-20-2019, 11:32 AM (This post was last modified: 09-16-2019, 12:43 PM by Wysteria Fairy.)
He doesn’t understand. Above his youthful capacity lies a cabinet brimming with threaded intricacies as to why mother doesn’t dote on him. There is no love in her eyes. When she touches him – no matter how much he adores the contact – it is cold, distant. Little does he know how Valdis wars with herself in deciding what to do with the runt of her children. I can prove myself, he wants to say, but he cannot fathom a way to execute that. Her heart is encased in a cage, barred tightly and locked to no one but him. Certainly, he tries.
In the night, with his body more comfortably shifted into a hound, he nestles against her as the wind blows at their backs. Pangea is open like that; it’s constantly unraveled so that he may see the landscape no matter where he is perched on the cliff. Mother once mentioned father enjoys the darkness and hooded world of the forest, but Erio finds himself amiable toward openness.
But for the first time in his short life, Erio strays from mother’s side and treks toward a mountain that he has only heard of in distant whispers. It could have answers, he muses. It could help him.
There are multiple pauses in his travels to catch a breath into his small, immature lungs. His muscles ache early on, but he resumes after his periodic rests. Determination fuels him and guides him along the treacherous path until he reaches the top where the air is thin and cold. Admittedly, he knows not what to do. He is here but little does he know that it is only the beginning.
For a long while, his dark eyes sweep across the snow-crested peak in anticipation of someone – or something – arriving at the fall of his footsteps. Unfortunately, only silence greets him. A frigid wind kisses his skin and he shudders despite the long, hellhound coat adorning him. Reluctantly, his body shifts back into a foal. Small, insignificant, weak. Another tremble quakes his body as he sheds the skin he’s most comfortable in. ”Uh, hello. Ummm… I’m Erio.” He peeks around the nearby corners and ledges, reeling back to his original place only after seeing how high he is. ”I, um, want to be useful. I want to be loved. I feel like I’m an embarrassment but I’m not sure why.” There is a brief pause as he considers his predicament with a more meticulous hand that thumbs through his memories and observations. Alas, nothing of use really comes to mind. ”I don’t know what would be most beneficial. I’m not a fighter, so I can’t impress anyone that way… Please help me…” Hanging his head, Erio falls quiet in his despair.
erio
Faerie's choice! I have nothing in mind for him to quest for so feel free to be creative and fun
She pities him, in some small way. Her heart has seen too much destruction, loss, and sorrow to truly be capable of empathy anymore. If she broke at each of their lives, there would be nothing left of her to give. It’s a thing you learn early, when you are like them, when you job is to simply keep the world running rather than to be a part of it.
For once, she appears first before speaking. Around them, the air warms, and her white coat gleams even against the already white snow. “And what do you think we can offer you?” not unkindly, but truthfully. “We cannot make others love you, nor will magic do any such thing. The powers that create love are false at best, and I don’t believe that is what you seek.”
She pauses for a moment, considering him. “We will do what we can, but it will not be enough. So I ask, in order to receive anything from us that you first go learn about yourself. Speak with three others and use their experiences and wisdom to help you better understand yourself.” With that, she disappears, leaving behind only the snow.
***
Erio has rolled a 6 and will receive a quest. Go thread with 3 other characters (NPC x3 or other played characters) and speak with them about their life experiences and try to gain a better understand of yourself and what may truly help you other than simply magic.
Exhaustion gnaws at his bones as he reaches the base of the mountain. It towers high above, reaching higher than the clouds and into eternity (or so it feels). Erio hesitates, panting from having traveled from the dense forests to the open meadows to finally here. His small legs tremble wearily as he focuses on composing himself and mustering every bit of remaining strength in his muscles.
He waits.
The sun shifts high in the sky, inching toward the afternoon before Erio can ease himself back on the trails. His choppy jog puts space between him and the trees at the base of the peak. He doesn’t look back; if there is one thing he has learned, it is to continue moving forward and to not focus so heavily on the negatives. Keep moving. Don’t look down. Ignore the height… Erio’s eyes slip toward the precarious edge of the trail where it plummets down. A low whine escapes him. With meticulous steps, he hugs the mountainous wall, eluding the dropoff as much as possible.
By the time he arrives to the peak’s top, the air is thin and clawing at his lungs. Still he pants, his muscles now trembling, but he feels stronger to have accomplished this trek a second time. Amid his labored breaths, the petite hellhound manages a small, satisfied grin. If nothing else, he has at least accomplished that.
”Um, hello?” His meek voice finally slips past the edges of his lips, hoping the faerie will return to him again. There is no great power or victory that he may lay claim to. As a matter of fact, part of him shakily clutches a sense of defeat from the quest that had been granted to him. Although he has learned a great deal – about others, about himself – there is no grand prize that comes to mind. ”I’ve returned, miss faerie.” His voice is sweet and still so young. ”I found two of my sisters and I’ve made a friend,” he beams at this, proud in that accomplishment, ”and they reassured me that I’m still okay, that I’m not a freak like mother has made me out to be. There is still compassion, but it isn’t as readily available. There is still hate and gluttony and destruction. I don’t have the heart for that. I want to be good – to help what good there is. I want to be what Beqanna needs, whatever that may be. I know I’m a hellhound which has dark implications tied to it, but I can be a nice one.” He is beginning to ramble, thinking aloud instead of directly answering what he had quest out to discover.
”Okay, um… I’ve learned that I am full of love and compassion. I learned how I love the idea of exploring and attaining knowledge so that perhaps I can help others one day. I’ve also realized that I just want to be the good in the world while many others rip Beqanna apart with their hunger for power. I’m not a nobody… there must have been a reason I was born like this, right?” He once considered throwing himself off of a Pangean cliff when mother rejected him again and again, but his heart rooted his feet and tried to reassure him that he will be okay – that one day mother’s distaste will either not matter or melt away. Whether that is by applying himself or ignoring her, he doesn’t know.
Rolling his small shoulders, he concludes. ”I don’t know if there’s anything you can do, or what. I understand I’m young and life experiences will change me, but there must be something I can help you with…” Erio trails off, at a loss for words as he sits down and curls his tail around his feet.
“Child,” she says, the voice coming before the body. She appears before him without fanfare, simply materializing out of the clouds that hang against the peak of the mountain. “Did you not learn that you are simply you, and that that is enough? That you can create your own happiness? You will never find it in the approval of others, or in great causes. History will forget you,” she says it not unkindly, just truthfully. History forgets them all, after a while. Time marches on and their legends remain until those that once knew the stories are gone too, and then…life is only what they make of it for themselves and never more.
“I will grant you something that you can use to overcome your birth, at least at times, and something that you can chose to use for good or darkness. As you said, you can be a nice hellhound, so you can use this as you need too.”
A tendril of purple magic reaches for him, infusing his body with the magic that only Beqanna can give. For a moment, he grows larger, stronger, his bones reshaping to what they should be. Bone bending. The power to change his own bones, though he would not be able to hold it all the time as all magic is tiring. The power to wield the dead, for protection or destruction. The choice was his.
With that, she disappears, leaving him to sort out the details of the gift he has been given.
***
Congratulations, your quest was successful! You have received Bone Bending. Please post in updates.
