03-07-2021, 10:39 PM
<style type="text/css">.volos2_container{position: relative;z-index: 1;width: 600px;background: #c9d2d7;font: 12px 'Times New Roman', sans-serif;line-height: 1.25;padding-top: 16px;border: 2px solid #3a2922;box-shadow: 0 0 10px #000;}.volos2_container img {margin-top:-0px;width: 600px;}.volos2_container p{margin: 0;}.volos2_gradient {position: absolute;z-index: 5;bottom: 200px;width: 600px;height: 200px;background: -moz-linear-gradient(top, rgba(201,210,215,1) 0%, rgba(125,185,232,0) 100%); /* FF3.6-15 */
background: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, rgba(201,210,215,1) 0%,rgba(125,185,232,0) 100%);background: linear-gradient(to bottom, rgba(201,210,215,1) 0%,rgba(125,185,232,0) 100%);filter: progid
XImageTransform.Microsoft.gradient( startColorstr='#c9d2d7', endColorstr='#007db9e8',GradientType=0 );}.volos2_message {position: relative;z-index: 10;background-color: #c9d2d7;box-shadow: inset 0 0 2px #3a2922;opacity:0.6;text-align: justify;width: 500px;padding: 20px 20px 20px 20px;color: #3a2922;}.volos2_name {position: absolute;bottom: 320px;left:210px;text-align: center;z-index: 50;font: 50px 'Times new roman', serif;letter-spacing: 4px;text-transform: none;color: #c9d2d7;opacity: 0.8;text-shadow: 0 0 5px #000;}.volos2_quote {z-index: 15;font-size: 14px;letter-spacing: 2px;text-transform: uppercase;text-shadow: 0 0 4px #000;color: #3a2922;opacity: 0.6;padding-bottom: 16px;}</style><center><div class="volos2_container"><p class="volos2_quote">this ain't no place for no hero</p><div class="volos2_message">The darkness bleeds into the edges of the gathering as the last of them finds their way into the fold. It is a different kind of darkness, supernaturally more full than it otherwise would be. He knows because he remembers a time before it. He remembers the blue water of the ocean crystallized and sparkling under the hot summer sun. He remembers the shine on the thick skin of a ripened papaya, the flashy glint of redfish scales before they disappeared under the next wave. Of shadows, he remembers those existing only in the dimples of his family’s smiles.
Perhaps along with the light, he will bring those smiles back.
Volos reacts only with a widening of his eyes when the fairies find them. A part of him is surprised to see them; he had wondered if the legendary fairies were just that, legends meant to inspire but as real as any other tale told to foals. That other part of him, the part that is just emerging from childhood like a still-wet butterfly from its cocoon, is relieved to see that some tales are as true as the heart beating within his chest. He feels bolstered by their presence, despite their sagging faces. There is a light suddenly within him if not brightening around all of them. Something like hope sprouts as a seed that he means to nurture and make useful. The darkness might lick at their heels, but in doing so, it pulls them closer and tighter together.
He listens solemnly as the two figures explain away the dark.
The explanation is a lot to swallow. He feels the heavy weight of the truth trying to stamp out his bright hope like he had done to his own misdirected fire before. If the monsters are fragmented souls, are any of them his ancestors? Is the creature who had tried to drag him to a watery grave his own uncle? Do they know that they are no longer at peace? Do they know that they are dead, even? So many horrifying thoughts threaten to overwhelm him. But more than that, he has a stronger desire to make it <i>right</i>, to restore their peace. Volos doesn’t really care to hear any more, he just wants to immediately get started repairing whatever he can.
His muscles twitch with their readiness to move, to do anything, right now.
The fairies talk about those the monsters have taken, entities that are vital to restoring the light to the sunrise lands. One offers their rescue as the first path while the other fairy lays out the second path as serving as a distraction. The blue-tinged grullo listens as the others make their choices. A few seem to know the magicians that have been taken and many pledge to join in the effort to bring them back from the Afterlife. Volos’s first instinct is to join them as well. It seems like the most direct line to ending the darkness once and for all. But then he changes his mind after a moment. Distracting the monsters will likely mean action and fighting. Those are his strengths, and he’d rather bleed out than fumble around in the darkness trying to be useful otherwise. Besides, if he turns down a fight, his mother will never let him hear the end of it.
<b>“I’ll be bait and distract,”</b> he says with a crooked smile, trying and likely failing to lighten the mood to some small degree.</div><p class="volos2_name">v o l o s</p><div class="volos2_gradient"></div><img src="https://i.postimg.cc/9FHhPGWM/volos-beach.jpg"></div><a href="https://unsplash.com/photos/IraMdOH78NE" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" style="padding-top:10px;">Photo by Austin Neill at Unsplash</a></center>
background: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, rgba(201,210,215,1) 0%,rgba(125,185,232,0) 100%);background: linear-gradient(to bottom, rgba(201,210,215,1) 0%,rgba(125,185,232,0) 100%);filter: progid
XImageTransform.Microsoft.gradient( startColorstr='#c9d2d7', endColorstr='#007db9e8',GradientType=0 );}.volos2_message {position: relative;z-index: 10;background-color: #c9d2d7;box-shadow: inset 0 0 2px #3a2922;opacity:0.6;text-align: justify;width: 500px;padding: 20px 20px 20px 20px;color: #3a2922;}.volos2_name {position: absolute;bottom: 320px;left:210px;text-align: center;z-index: 50;font: 50px 'Times new roman', serif;letter-spacing: 4px;text-transform: none;color: #c9d2d7;opacity: 0.8;text-shadow: 0 0 5px #000;}.volos2_quote {z-index: 15;font-size: 14px;letter-spacing: 2px;text-transform: uppercase;text-shadow: 0 0 4px #000;color: #3a2922;opacity: 0.6;padding-bottom: 16px;}</style><center><div class="volos2_container"><p class="volos2_quote">this ain't no place for no hero</p><div class="volos2_message">The darkness bleeds into the edges of the gathering as the last of them finds their way into the fold. It is a different kind of darkness, supernaturally more full than it otherwise would be. He knows because he remembers a time before it. He remembers the blue water of the ocean crystallized and sparkling under the hot summer sun. He remembers the shine on the thick skin of a ripened papaya, the flashy glint of redfish scales before they disappeared under the next wave. Of shadows, he remembers those existing only in the dimples of his family’s smiles.Perhaps along with the light, he will bring those smiles back.
Volos reacts only with a widening of his eyes when the fairies find them. A part of him is surprised to see them; he had wondered if the legendary fairies were just that, legends meant to inspire but as real as any other tale told to foals. That other part of him, the part that is just emerging from childhood like a still-wet butterfly from its cocoon, is relieved to see that some tales are as true as the heart beating within his chest. He feels bolstered by their presence, despite their sagging faces. There is a light suddenly within him if not brightening around all of them. Something like hope sprouts as a seed that he means to nurture and make useful. The darkness might lick at their heels, but in doing so, it pulls them closer and tighter together.
He listens solemnly as the two figures explain away the dark.
The explanation is a lot to swallow. He feels the heavy weight of the truth trying to stamp out his bright hope like he had done to his own misdirected fire before. If the monsters are fragmented souls, are any of them his ancestors? Is the creature who had tried to drag him to a watery grave his own uncle? Do they know that they are no longer at peace? Do they know that they are dead, even? So many horrifying thoughts threaten to overwhelm him. But more than that, he has a stronger desire to make it <i>right</i>, to restore their peace. Volos doesn’t really care to hear any more, he just wants to immediately get started repairing whatever he can.
His muscles twitch with their readiness to move, to do anything, right now.
The fairies talk about those the monsters have taken, entities that are vital to restoring the light to the sunrise lands. One offers their rescue as the first path while the other fairy lays out the second path as serving as a distraction. The blue-tinged grullo listens as the others make their choices. A few seem to know the magicians that have been taken and many pledge to join in the effort to bring them back from the Afterlife. Volos’s first instinct is to join them as well. It seems like the most direct line to ending the darkness once and for all. But then he changes his mind after a moment. Distracting the monsters will likely mean action and fighting. Those are his strengths, and he’d rather bleed out than fumble around in the darkness trying to be useful otherwise. Besides, if he turns down a fight, his mother will never let him hear the end of it.
<b>“I’ll be bait and distract,”</b> he says with a crooked smile, trying and likely failing to lighten the mood to some small degree.</div><p class="volos2_name">v o l o s</p><div class="volos2_gradient"></div><img src="https://i.postimg.cc/9FHhPGWM/volos-beach.jpg"></div><a href="https://unsplash.com/photos/IraMdOH78NE" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" style="padding-top:10px;">Photo by Austin Neill at Unsplash</a></center>