WillJ
Full Member
Posts: 108
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Post by WillJ on Apr 5, 2023 21:32:01 GMT
It takes a couple of weeks for anyone to notice.
Merla is worried at first, but perhaps Rhyme is undercover. Perhaps she is closer to uncovering the Unseelie plots.
No reports arrive, no intricate origami hidden in books or slipped into dead-drops.
Merla begins to worry.
No message tells of their visit to Aurelia in the forest, the interns who helped get them there or the mess of limbs and skulls that they were trying to identify.
No stories of the mist that clung to their bodies as they tracked an ever growing 6 limbed creature that had torn innocents asunder.
The heroics of combat are lost to time, known only to the other party members. They might tell the tale; but they cannot tell of her by name.
Well one can, but will she?
and perhaps somewhere across Daring Heights, little Egg waits, waits to hear again from his fairy god-mother.
Waits and never hears from her again....
In the Adventurer's Rest. In front of a small unassuming grave stone; its name chiseled out, sits a tiny pile of pearls.
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Lykksie
Dungeon Master
❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🖤🤎
Posts: 363
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Post by Lykksie on Apr 6, 2023 17:52:59 GMT
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Post by Queen Merla, the Sun-Blessed on May 18, 2023 12:18:26 GMT
The air thrums with music, rising up to meet the warmth cast by the bright midday sun. Nearby, a large Yew tree shades a young couple — a dark haired human man with his periwinkle tiefling lover. They appear to be having a picnic. The sight would normally make the figure smile. But their eyes are cast down to the small unassuming gravestone with a name chiselled out, framed by beautifully chiselled out fairy wings.
[ R E D A C T E D ]
The music swells briefly as the figure kneels down to reach out towards the pile of pearls, fingertips shaking, a glow beginning to manifest.
“Arael’salif... I know you wished to have the day…”
Kruxeral’s voice is gentle, but there’s a tone of apology to it Merla recognises. It stills her hand.
“A message has arrived from the Record Keeper. It seems... important.”
Was that worry or annoyance she heard in his voice?
“The First Cantor is stalling…”
And there it was. The next thing, already come upon her. Merla’s gaze returns to the chiselled name.
[ R E D A C T E D ]
“If it is about the Temple I should hear it. With everything else going on…”
There is always something.
“I will return shortly.”
The bright sound of female laughter rings like a bell from under the yew tree. Merla lets it wash over her, filling her heart as she takes a deep breath in, closing her eyes. She begins to sing softly, the words older than these lands, and from another plane of existence. As they drift to the ground, mixing with the salty spring of her tears and the rich soil beneath her knees, a single leaf sprouts up beside the headstone. It grows taller, turning into a fully flowering plant of small blue flowers with golden centres that glow softly with fey light.
Merla opens her eyes, the trail of tears drying from the warmth of her skin.
“You will always be remembered, Rhyme,” they say, standing up. “I promise.”
The flowers bend their heads in acknowledgement of The Word given, as they step away, heading towards Portal Plaza.
In the Adventurer’s Rest, in front of a small unassuming grave stone; its name chiselled out, sits a tiny pile of pearls. It is framed by flourishing forget-me-not flowers that, if one were to listen closely, sing the unknown melody of the one they are dedicated to.
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