Brown’s laughter ambushed Ambrose’s senses. He’d gotten distracted looking at the lights and the booths. This had been the first time he’d attended the festival, and he had to admit that for such a small, homey town, they’d gone out of their way to make things seem larger than life. Brown’s laughter caused Ambrose’s smile to ignite even further, going from a close-lipped smirk to showing off thousands of dollars of dental work and whitening treatments.
“A fool? That tracks. Audrey calls me the town idiot, constantly. I figure that you mean in a more positive way like a court jester, than the moron that shits in the well. Not that we have a town well to shit in. Though I imagine that this fair has at least a port-a-potty or two. Though, I guess that’d be more the town box that everyone shits in.” He placed his hands on his hips. “I think the analog—nope—anthology—comparison has gotten away from me.”
At the mention of Brown’s friend, Ambrose shrugged. “Wow. Are people getting drunk there instead of here? There are shiny lights here. There are just beer farts there. Well, I say let’s have fun without him. I’m sure I can beat whatever games they have lined up.” He lifted his arms up in a strong man pose and patted his bicep like it was a Pomeranian that had just learned how to fetch. He eyeballed one of the classic carnival games of hitting the hammer down on the target to make the weight go up to the bell. “Oh. There we go. Maybe we’ll win something. You can give it to Rowan or to your friend. Try to soothe his beer fart-burnt nostrils.”
Ambrose did check his phone about then, curious to see if Rowan had gotten back to him. It showed that they were unread. He narrowed his eyes at that. Then again, their relationship was just based on him paying her to make it seem like he was an academic. She probably assumed that he’d forgotten how to tie his shoelaces or something and muted him. No. Rowan was nice. She wasn’t like some of the other people that his mother had hired to try to make her son the shiniest diamond in the shit mine. Rowan was probably just caught up in the festivities and hadn’t seen her phone yet. Ambrose soothed his ego with that.
Though mentioning Audrey earlier reminded him that he hadn’t heard from her during this entire day. She was probably off doing something exciting, but what was more exciting than him? Nothing. So, he shot her a quick message before returning his attention to Brown.
Aleyn stood near the front of the New Hope Inn, door open wide for the world to see inside. The hustle and bustle of the festival had many of tourists coming and going, giving an amount of attention only afforded to the Ward family during holidays. His mind instead was focused on how fast and far he could get away from the Inn, away from his brother's abuse. Unfortunately that man stood near the door, glaring at his little brother, ready to backhand if he uttered even the slightest disrespect. Aleyn turned his back to begin walking down the brightly lit street, his brother fixing his tie while just waiting till the boy was just a bit farther away to speak up.
"Enjoy yourself. Tomorrow you have a big day. Don't come back late."
Instead of speaking back, the boy just waved back. He didn't want to say anything to Markus because it would just end in a shouting match and that was exactly the thing he didn't need right now especially without Alycia there to calm either down. He was always happy that at-least she was spared from their guardian's wrath, able to grow up experiencing life with a happiness that Aleyn never got. Thankfully there was at-least one person beyond his sister that cared for him and that's when it hit him that he should probably check his phone. Grabbing it from his pocket, he quickly opened it using Alycia's birthday as the password, noticing that he had a message from Brown.
"AW CRAP! BROWNIE BOY HERE I COME!"
Several minutes passed as Aleyn made a mad dash to the festival area to find his best friend. Eventually he came upon the highstreet, almost immediately seeing Brown standing next a pretty big guy. He had no clue who this guy was but he did look familiar as if he had saw him around town. Whoever it was was didn't matter to him, he just cared if his friend was being treated right. Walking up to his friend, he slapped him back with a huge smile on his face before leaning on him, too short to actually lean on Brown's shoulder.
"Brownie, what's up? Ya enjoying the lame festival? Meet a girl yet?", Aleyn looked the other guy up and down, placing his hand in the air to signify just how tall the guy was in comparison, "Who's this guy? He's like...HUGE?!"
Brown grinned as Ambrose monologued. He closed his left eye and tilted his head slightly, observing him as he rambled. Brown considered offering up 'analogy' but decided against it in an effort to not seem like an ass.
Suddenly Brown sensed the energy bizzing off of his ling time bestfriend, he turned around scanning the crowd for Aleyn, upon seeing nothing he turned back around, just as his minute stature appeared from the crowd in his peripheral vision. A sharp prang on the back alerted him to his presence as his arm was pinned down by his mate leaning on him. His grin did not let up.
Brown glanced down as Aleyn energetically dialogued.
He responded quickly trying to keep up with his interrogation, before Aleyn could make up his mind on Ambrose. Most likely in a negative light. "Holy shit! The prodigal son returns! This is my new frie- acquaintance, Ambrose. And he's not even that big." He looked puzzled at Ambrose, unsure of the correct term, trying hoping it wasn't a social faux pas. He continued, "The festival's pretty good man. Me Ambrose, and Freya did this year's raft. It's almost midnight man. Pub busy?" He attempted to skirt around the girl question, hoping it would go unnoticed by his more outspoken entourage.
There is a moment in every person's life when they are given several options they had to choose from, for William this was this moment, he felt the burning curiosity at whatever the older man was talking about and what they seemed so secretive about it but a look back at his companion made him reign himself, Toby was reacting badly to whatever they were talking about and if he insisted they investigated she would likely take it even worse, he didn't want the normally nervous girl to get even more so.
Giving a last look at the retreating back of the Bilica elder he directed his attention to Toby once more with a smile.
"Wow, I didn't know Mr. Bilica and Mr. Howard were such good friends! Is nice knowing they seem to be so close enough to be hanging up in the festival together, hey it's kind of like us!"
Foot meet mouth, ugh sometimes he wished he had a better filter, what else could he say, he didn't want to leave it at that.., Oh right.
"Hey Toby I just realized I have been kind of dragging you along to Mount Bilica, do you really want to go or would you prefer to wait here for the Festival to start? I get to spend time with a friend so I am cool with both dude"
It was at that moment that he felt his phone vibrate slightly notifying him of a message.
"Wait for a second please just got a message"
Reading it quickly he was torn again between two options again but it was through sheer force of will that he managed to prevail against his childish impulses.
"Yo new phone, who dis?"
He
"Okay right, so what do you say Toby, stay or go?"
"I..." Toby murmured, still unsure of what had just transpired. "I'm cool with anything you want, to be perfectly honest."
The world seemed to be spinning around her - nothing was making sense anymore, everything was haywire. Above all, a deep sense of dread began to coagulate in a pit in her stomach. Something isn't right.
Do not worry yourself over creating a full on performance before this. You get the kudos just for having had the idea, and do not lose any love if you find it daunting to follow up directly on the pseudo-challenge issued by the Fontaine's; abstract is more than welcome if you feel obligated to do so anyway.
Across all the festival grounds, the sound of a gong reverberates. Twice. Thrice. The traditional drums then strike into a steady rhythm, signaling the beginning of the Sealing Ceremony and for the townsfolk to gather at the edge of Lake Chartreuse. The entirety of the town moves as one, ending other performances and activities temporarily to address this particularly anticipated event.
Even the Bilica children dare not to refuse this sacred beckoning, the tall figure of Weasel unmistakable in the crowd as he makes room for his family at the water's edge by the dock. Simeon, Raphael, Gavriel, and Odaya are all seen- with Odaya in particular splashing in the waters, still wearing Damon's jacket about her shoulders. The Fontaines and Hoar family stand at the dock's mouth, with the monolithic and hunched figure of Stoat Bilica standing with them. The three entities, when gathered together thus, radiate across the townsfolk an almost mystical sense of ancient belonging. The deep roots of the Bilica giving rise to the firm and powerful trunk of the Hoar, whose branches weave and form the intricacies of Fontaine; the living lineage of New Hope represented in three families.
The Fontaines, dwindling as they are, a sight of tradition and beauty; Sybille radiant at the side of Minoru, their hands entwined, who is himself dressed regally in the ancient robes of the Shrine.
The Hoar family, beaming with pride and warmth. The patriarch shaking Stoat's hand, while the wife looks around the gathered crowd- then soon waves to Rowan, gesturing for Stig to be brought forth.
Stoat Bilica, standing alone- but with his flock nearby. Hunched, gray, wrinkled, and every bit the scrooge. When his hand retracts from the Hoar Father's grasp, he produces a kerchief and wipes at his palms hastily. With whatever business they had quietly had dealt with, Stoat thumps his cane heavily upon the dock and- with a startling, deafening, cracking noise that ripples up his spine- straightens his back steadily until he is at his full height. A head taller than the Hoar family at his side. When he speaks, his voice carries over the calm waters and quiet crowd with equal, trembling, fervor as he raises a fist into the air;
"Let the sealing commence!"
With one last imposing slam of his cane, three hundred lanterns lit nearly simultaneously. A few flickered and died, then relit, whilst others seemed to ignite in a benign delay. The end result was the same nonetheless; the lakeside, fully ringing Lake Chartreuse, was aglow with the lanterns tirelessly produced by the townsfolk. They began to drift inwards idly from their launching points, floating idyllic upon the lake's surface. As the lanterns began their path, the Fontaines began theirs.
Hand in hand, the duo calmly walked along the dock. Their hands had parted only to lift the Old Bell in their mutual grasp, and their silent footfalls seemed to scarcely even make the boards of the dock tremble. A breeze blows, ruffling the robes of the pair and whispering through the crowd. Such innocent steps seeming to carry such impossible weight. They lift the bell and pass it forth.
Young Freyja Hoar, dressed in the striking uniform of the Miko, the Shrine Maiden of Fontaine heritage, lifted the bell effortlessly in her arms. Her hair was intricately braided, and she wore no makeup. If not for her glasses, white hair, and everyone knowing it was she who was chosen for the task the alterations to her appearance would be mildly stunning; gone was the wild haired tomboy with younger brother on her hip, and here was this visage of spiritual energy and town hope. Freyja raised the bell up, presenting it to the townsfolk on the shore, then stepped backwards while bowing to the Fontaines onto the raft. Fisherfolk in dark attire gently pushed the raft away from the dock, causing it to drift inwards towards the reflection of the full moon which dominated the center of the lake.
It was a beautiful illusion; the stars twinkling on the glass-like surface of the lake whilst the lanterns flowed between them and created the sensation of fires in the heavens. Freyja carefully moved on the raft, rising onto its central platform to deposit the Old Bell upon the pedestal before the elegant tapestry of the Ceremony, suspended below the stylized arches of the Moon. Then, with practiced steps, Freyja performed the dance as the sound of the drums intensified and beat into a heart-like rhythm on the shores. The sensation of the drums would fill the crowd. Would fill each of you, Freyja's visage twirling and dancing along the raft in time with each major beat.
At last, with each drum striking in unison, Freyja landed upon the raised platform and suddenly struck the bell. The thud of the drums faded into the powerful ringing of the ancient bell.
Something happened in that instance.
The waters of the lake rippled outward from the Raft, as if originating from that very strike. The lake's surface changed in the wake of this ripple. AS the ripple expanded and surged lanterns into a wobble, the brightness of the moon within the lake seemed to intensify beneath the raft. As the radius expanded, the brightness flickered and dazzled; colors shifted and changed; fireworks beneath the surface of the lake. Each lantern the center of a wondrous explosion of light and color, a strangeness that made the true night sky above seem tame and boring by comparison.
The ripple hit the shore, and that is when the second strange thing occured;
You all were moving, gazing, listening- but the entirety of the town stood frozen, as if a movie had been paused. Young Stig, in mother's arms, grasping at her hair as a statue of life; Gavriel and Simeon Bilica secreting themselves on their phones, the light blazing into their faces plain and obvious; Weasel, frozen, rigid, eyes locked on Freyja Hoar; Odaya-
Odaya was moving. She stood at the water's edge, gazing into the lake, with an incredulous face.
At the lake's center, Freyja stood in the frozenness of shock rather than the supernatural immobility of the town.
And all of you, free to move and speak as you see fit as the display of lights and colors erupts within the lake's surface yet again.
Freyja lets out a cry, and suddenly strikes the bell again in a panic. The sound echoes outwards- then the lake's surface surges upwards and swallows the raft. Swallows Freyja Hoar whole. The surging column of water rises upwards as a single column- and those of you who paid attention to such things would note its likeness to the very tapestry on the raft of the ceremony, a pillar rising upwards from below.
The raft, and Freyja, are seen within the column of water gently floating downwards through the column- and into the lake itself. The Column pulses, the fireworks below filling upwards into this pillar of water and creating an almost holographic rendition of the colorful cascade within. The lights flare outwards, intense and bright- far more intense than any fireworks you all had seen prior. The lights are so dazzling that it is as if a rainbow disco ball has exploded in the center of Lake Chartreuse and paints the town and surrounding landscape in its colorations.
Then the water vibrates, and the Song is heard. A song that fills each and every one of you with longing. A song of beckoning.
Detail note for those who wish to make use of it, which is by no means required; Those who are attracted to women hear a girl's voice, those who are attracted to men hear a boy's voice, those attracted to both or neither hear a chorus of both, and those with indeterminate preferences do not hear a voice- rather the meaning flows into your minds with the tones of music. The approximate ages of the voices are similar to your own. This has no bearing on the game, just an added detail which may come up later.
Harken all ye to whom mine voice doth reach, Let it carry far, to all whom the Song may teach. Tarry not long for the hour is nigh Tarry not long, thou belongst at mine side.
The Song doth beckon over many a shore, And to mine side it brings, Companions boon for mine heart is sore, On this eve in Yo'Bikur.
Peace hast reigned for ten-long score, O, how the world doth Sing! May the years pass for-e'er more, On this eve in Yo'Bikur!
Odaya Bilica trembles at the water's edge and takes a step back, hesitant and fearful of the situation at pure instinct alone- but at the song's mystical emanation her eyes widen and she reverses her trajectory. She takes a step forward, towards the lake-
And the pillar of water suddenly writhes, as if alive, and coils in the air in a serpentine manner. It arcs through the air, weaving in on itself in a pretzel-esque manner, before tendrils of the water begin to reach outwards as the body of the 'creature' continues its elegant display. As light explodes within its body, the fireworks now cascading down to a sight- a city- a city? within the lake's surface, reflected in fractals and odd angles within the watery beast's body. A tendril weaves through the air with an elegance and gentleness and suddenly splashes down over Odaya.
The girl is seemingly pulled upwards into the arc of the tendril, almost as if going up a strange waterslide in reverse, but she breaks out of the surface and yells out before being submerged once again;
"Zeke!-" She cries out- which seems to shatter whatever mystical hold the situation had over Weasel. Weasel suddenly animates, surging to his feet- and without even a moment of hesitation he sprints along the dock and dives headfirst into the waters at the same time that Odaya is seen falling into the writhing creature's body.
This is your time to shine, kiddos; do you willingly accept the beckoning of the song and the wonders displayed within the lake, or does your character end up scooped by the seemingly sentient magical water thrumming with an angelic voice? Unfortunately participation is mandatory, so if you try to flee the water will catch you and into the lake you will go; the experience will be trippy, mind boggling, and sensate-overload.
During this transition, being swallowed whole by Song and transported through water, is when your characters will experience their physical changes; those of you who wish to wait to express this change will instead find that your character's skin glows from within, as if a flashlight emanates beneath their flesh, but rather than the eerie sight of veins and blood-red skin, they glow as if filled with stars and constellations within their flesh as their bodies await the preparedness of their minds to express their true selves.
The Song is truly magical and beckoning, to stress this; however hesitant, fearful, or angry your characters may be, they begrudgingly or otherwise will come to acknowledge- perhaps even as they're being swallowed by the waters- that they did actually want to get closer to that/those voices/music anyway. Compulsion, perhaps, is a good word for it. Resistance is possible; avoidance is not.
Yo'Bikur, the City of Xaktin
This one was by me!
You all awaken suddenly and energetically. The air you breath tastes fresher than any air you've ever breathed before; the water that falls from your faces and hair tastes sweeter than any drink. The sky above you is aglow with fireworks spectacular and wonderful. Colors you did not even know existed weave into patterns between greens and blues, their intricacies fading as quickly as they appeared into ash and smoke. Illustrious is a good word for it. A chorus of voices rises and falls seemingly in response to the mystical Song that flows through this place. The same Song that beckoned you all here, that wondrous voice/sound and their meanings filling you even as you come to your senses.
You all are emerging from a pool of water upon a floating island precipice; this island is lush, thick trees growing and interconnected by vines. Their branches tangle together and weave into thick platforms which link together to form an arced bridge away from the pool. The height of this island is dizzying, the spring you all emerged from seeming to feed into a myriad spider-web of streams which flow naturally outwards and cascade into a misting waterfall at all edges of the small island. You are not alone here, however.
Freyja Hoar lays nearby, breathing shallowly as she lays half-within and half-without the pool of water. The raft is nowhere to be seen, nor is the Old Bell. Her glasses lay half-embedded in the bank at her side, in-tact miraculously. Protruding from her head are a pair of antlers, impressive and elegant- but also curved and pointed, like that of a buck-deer. Her legs are longer, and come to cloven feet as white fur rises up her calves and disappears into the concealment of her Shrine Maiden uniform.
Odaya is nearby- and whilst she seems well and whole, unhindered or troubled by the experience, she stares upwards and cries out in amazement;
"Do you see that?" She points skyward- her head no longer adorned by her black hair, but rather an array of sleek black feathers that are a black so dark they almost appear purple. Her eyes are lined in a violet hue of skin, and the typically blood-red eyes appear so much more deep and full of color than they usually do. This feathery visage cascades down her neck and shoulders, but her arms and the rest of her body appear to be ordinary. As ordinary as Odaya ever was.
Those who follow her pointing finger skyward witness a series of flaming bursts in the sky, separate from the fireworks display; indeed, the blasts of flame almost seem to clear a space in the sky, the coiling wreath of flame forming a circle that repels the interference of the fireworks. A deeper flame, a blue heat, fills the ring of red- then from its center emerges a black figure, massive beyond compare, whose wings flap once and clear the skies of all ash and celebration. Cheers rise from the strange city- itself a wonder beyond comprehension at this time, incalculable floating islands like the very one you all inhabit now with their own arcing wooden bridges connecting them to the main topography of the city.
The wings flap- and all sound is driven from your ears save for the voices/sound of the Song. The buffet of wind almost threatens to knock Odaya over- and if not for the powerful arm of Weasel catching her at her back, she would have surely tumbled. Weasel looks... stunned. Weak, perhaps, as he gasps for breath. Fur lines his neck and face, and thickly courses down his arms. His own visage, so very unlike Odaya's, was ape-like; the white and red furs giving him a striking, aggressive, persona. He struggles for breath, as if under a great pressure, but even in his panic and struggle he catches Odaya and keeps her standing.
The creature that you have no name for save 'Dragon' flaps again, its buffeting wings being met by the rising cheers once more from the city- then it alights, one great leg resting upon the distant island adjacent from y'all's, and the other three grasping about the city. The Song persists, beckoning, calling, summoning-
Summoning you.
The Dragon rests its head upon the distant roof of an elaborate structure that must be a Palace of some sort, and as its rests the fireworks surge heavenward once more; the sky above this obsidian behemoth raining ashes and sparks down upon its scales in a manner that does not seem to bother the creature whatsoever. Its eyes close, its breathing stills, and it seems to rest as the Song swells in the air. The chorus of cheers returns to being a chorus of sung responses; hundreds, thousands, of voices crying out in rhythm and jubilation to this sweet, unerring, beckoning Song.
When you all are ready to proceed, a slender man stands at the far end of your bridge. He has an effeminate bearing, gentle features, and a shock of red hair that is intricately braided to fall down to his waist in a regal manner. His eyes are a dull green, like an emerald in the rough, but his complexion is flawed only by the vine-like scar that wraps down his jaw and neck. His throat bears a strange symbol, almost like a collar which is only disrupted by this scar, which seems aglow on this evening in a gentle golden light. His attire is that of fine black robes, overtop well worn and traveled hempen trousers and a tunic of grey. He almost appeared ordinary, if it were not for his uncanny thin-ness and immense height- he stood easily a head taller than even Ambrose, but possessed a fraction of his bulk. His bearing was one of a patient mirth, and those of you whose perceptions excelled beyond the norm may even notice the subtlety of his long, fanged, teeth. He would seemingly stand there, waiting an eternity for your approach if he must.
You could always jump off the side of the island instead, but the fall seemed dizzying and the mist obscured any sightlines of what came below. It was, truly, an ethereal circumstance.
Anyone watching Brown's face would've seen him shift rapidly from looks of contentment, to quickly mounting horror as Freyja was engulfed by the lake. Transformed once again into a look of shock as he heard the voice, and watched the little Odaya be ferried off.
As Weasel broke the stunned stillness, Brown rapidly followed suit. He thoughtlessly hauled his flannel shirt and undershirt, revealing his lean pale torso to the cold night air. He turned around to his companions and attempted to utter something, only to find he was too stunned to speak. To them no doubt it appeared he glanced back and mouthed an imperceptibility towards them. He continued without realising he had not uttered a peep. He sprinted to the shore after his friends, then floundered through the low water as he attempted to reach Zeke and Odaya's last location.
Instead of being absorbed into the column like the previous three, the water seemed to be gripping at his legs as Brown stumbled through, the extra weight throwing him off balance. The lake climbed up his body, eventually weighing him down and dragging him into the shallow water. He was stunningly and somewhat horrifically pulled under the thick silt bed by whatever was drawing the group into the lake. The last to be seen was a single pianist's hand reaching up desperately grasping at the air as it flails. He was rapidly drawn under the surface of the lake bed.
Yo'Bikur
Brown wakes up, appearing a few moments after Weasel. He is awoken with a heavy gasp, his sense overwhelmed by the purest air, the most visual sights, the border of incomprehensibility rapidly pole-vaulted by his mind as he views what a human should not be able to view. He stumbles up, trying to take stock, absorbing his surroundings. He is drawn by Odaya's innocent voice. Seeing she is safe, and noticeably herself, if slightly more avian than usual. He glances at Freyja, largely unchanged, and breathing at least, but seemingly unconscious.
Still half submerged in the pool, Brown glances at what appears to be Weasel ensuring the little bird isn't swept away. Brown attempted to stumble up, feeling rather weakened as the adrenaline of his previous state wore off. He shuddered as he recalled the feeling of being dragged under the thick silt. Even if momentary, it was still deeply unpleasant. He tried to pull himself up, almost getting to his feet.
Something was off, his balance was hindered and he went back down onto his knees. He looked at his bare arms. They were even thinner than normal. His skin was smooth and softer than it usually was, the colour and texture of old vellum. He squinted as misshapen black lines writhed uniformly across his forearms, almost like a tattoo, extending all the way up. He did a double take, his skin was covered in a shifting sea writing. Some legible, some in English, some smudge beyond visibility, and some in a myriad of different languages and scripts. He could only identify some of it, as it floated by in passing, the symbols mellowly rearranging themselves into different texts as he stared transfixed.
He attempted to stand back up, and this time he succeeded. He was overtaken by a strange sensation of wobbliness and off-ness like he was higher up than usual. Taller somehow, possibly. Like he was stretched out. He was overtaken by nausea, so he un-gracefully placed himself back on the ground, this time sitting upright, out of the pool of water. The grass seemed more healthy and more springy than the liveliest lawn he'd ever seen.
Finally, he gathered the energy to speak, chiming up behind Weasel, "H- H-hey Zeke, you seem to be the only one of us unchanged." He let out a short chuckle, a friendly jab to his childhood friend. "What the f- what was that?" He glanced to the side, smiling at little Odaya, who seemed entranced by their ornate surroundings. He was incredibly shaken up by the experience but was trying his best to calm himself.
When the gong rang, Audrey moved fast. She wanted a good spot to see from and, since she wasn't the tallest, that meant getting close to the lake before anyone else. The crowds were already pretty thick, and she had to settle for climbing on top of the steel cage around a public garbage can that was bolted to the pavement near the shore.
She loved the mysticism of the ritual, including the massive crowd of lanterns that were released. It was such a symbolic spectacle, and it brought the community - already pretty tight - closer together.
Next came Freyja with her dance and her bell. The drums seemed to vibrate right in her chest, and she clasped the lamp post tightly as the bell rang... and then everything went wrong. Not in a traditional sense, Freyja tripping on her robe, or the bell falling into the lake or something. But wrong in the sense that it was out of place. Bizarre. Not right at all.
And nobody seemed to be reacting to it. Not at first, but looking over the heads of the frozen crowd, Audrey saw a handful of others rushing in towards the lake. And didn't she want to as well? Didn't she hear the song, in a multitude of voices, calling her to join Freyja in the riotously colorful water?
Yes, she did. And that was alarming to some other part of her. The part that was wary when a strange man approached her, or she got a phone call from a number that wasn't saved in her contacts. This was wrong too, and she watched as it drew others in, and they were swallowed by the lake. Poor Odaya, her brother trying hard to save her. And that fool Brown, getting undressed for the occasion.
Audrey jumped down from the garbage can, meaning to run in the other direction. But she didn't, of course. She charged boldly up to the lake, and held out a hand, as every fiber of caution she possessed screamed not to. The lake took her hand with a tendril of strange water, and pulled her in.
She awoke in shallow water, looking up at a starry sky. That was expected, it was night time. But it wasn't lanterns crowding the air, here. It was fireworks. And through them, though at a merciful distance, a dragon flew. No point being coy, that's what she saw. And she gawked, mouth agape and uncharacteristically speechless.
She looked around and it took her a moment to recognize the people crowding the pool. But she did, odd and changed they may be, but she knew all of them. All of them, except for that man on the bridge. Audrey took a step toward him, but was sorely distracted by the sight of her own hands.
At first, she thought she was seeing colors reflected from the fireworks in the sky, but no. Her skin was smooth and shiny, and was in bright blue and black patterns, round and organic. She pulled at the sodden sleeve of her jacket, saw that the pattern extended up as far as she could see, then pulled up her shirt so that her belly was out. It was a vivid blue as well. It reminded her of pictures she had seen of poison dart frogs. "I don't look like much," the colors said, "But you'll regret it if you try to fuck with me, yes sir."
She glanced down at her reflection in the pool, shifting though it was with every movement of the poor bedraggled bunch. Her face was likewise unspared the change, and in addition to being blue with dots and globs of black, she saw that her eyes were completely black, and when she blinked, it was with a set of double eyelids.
In the midst of her distress, she caught Brown's joke about Weasel, and somehow Audrey found it in herself to laugh.
"Look who's talking, Cheese, she cut in, "Who else would become a book?"
Upon reaching the lake edge with Stig in tow, Rowan begins slowly making through the crowd toward the front assuming David will follow. She was lucky that the ceremony hadn't started yet and that most people were accommodating to make room for her to move through. Whether it was them just being polite or strictly because she was escorting Stig, she wasn't quite sure. But she suspected it was the latter.
Because of the elevated position of the founding families' representatives, Rowan could see Stig's mother waving toward them easily enough. She escorted Stig to the very front of the crowd and let him make the journey the rest of the way toward his mom. It wasn't a very tough trek for the toddler, so she was sure it was the right move. It wasn't Rowan's place to take that stage. Not yet anyway.
Rowan gave a friendly smile to the heads of the Hoar family, before retreating into the crowd. She wasn't fond of being upfront at these things.
Rowan had been standing back and taking in the beautiful sight of the ceremony. There was comfort for her in its predictability and its years of repetition never dulled her reaction to it all. That was until something went wrong, very wrong. This was Rowan's 17th ceremony. So when she noticed something so severely out of place, it shot up her spine in a cold chill. What the hell is happening to the raft?
Then the entire town froze. Rowan felt a heaviness in her chest as she realised that there was something supernatural at work here. She was becoming increasingly strained of breath as her feet began to move on their own, inching her away from this phenomenon.
As the giant pillar of water rose out of the lake, Rowan found her footing and turned on a heel to get out of there. But she immediately collided with townsfolk frozen in time and fell back onto the ground. She was growing more panicked as time went on. She couldn't even bring herself to look at the developing situation with the lake water. All that she had in mind was to get back to her feet and get out.
Then a tune began from the lake. It didn't sound ominous or haunting by any means, but Rowan was past the point where it would begin to calm her. Even stranger, the lyrics to the song apparated in her mind's eye as if she knew the lyrics when she had never heard them in her life.
As she finally gathered her footing again, something grabbed her from behind. One of the lake's tendrils had caught her, took her into the air, and toward the column of water. As Rowan is brought into the column, she faints.
A dream of colours beyond comprehension preempted Rowan's awakening in this new world. The air smelt different, she felt different, and her eyes could see she was nowhere near New Hope anymore. The events of the lake shore felt like a bad nightmare and the environment she was just in only served to confirm that it wasn't a construct of her mind. It all culminated in a sharp headache.
But upon sitting up and reaching for her head, she noticed she now had black gloves on. All her clothes had changed. Rowan now wore apparel that resembled the nobility of eras gone by. In addition to typical clothing, she wore leather gloves and boots, an encompassing cloak, and a finely made witch hat sat upon her head. The fabric used felt durable but looked fine and of very high quality. While the colour mostly consisted of midnight black, highlights of dark greens and silvers were present throughout the design.
What was more concerning to her was that Rowan felt some resistance when raising her hand. It was not as if the clothes she had on were ill-fitting, so she was left pondering what it could be. This strain persisted when just trying to move the fingers in her right hand. To the next logical step, she began taking off her right glove. With just a peak, she immediately rushed to cover her hand again. Such an action took about two seconds with her only revealing the inner part of her wrist. Thus no one had the opportunity to look but may have seen her reaction, which she tried to keep under wraps.
From what she could tell, Rowan's hands, arms, and up to between the shoulder blades were wrapped in thin vines. It didn't encompass her skin, it didn't create bumps in her clothes, nor did it restrict her movements very much. But it brought an uncomfortable strain to the movements. It was best to keep this quiet for now. Looking around, everyone else appeared different as well and no one was sure of themselves. It was best this not add to the worry.
"This wasn't how I expected this day to go." Rowan got herself up and onto her feet. Although it was hard to tell at a distance, she looks an inch or two taller.
They never did get to eat anything. Sidney was hungry, the grilled meat smelled good, and the fried dough was delicious if it was the same kind she had eaten last year; but she was also discerning and if she was treating Audrey too then she wanted to make sure she picked something good.
They walked around the festival grounds for a few minutes while she decided, but her indecision cost her as she was still looking when the gong rang and Audrey sped off by herself. Sidney hurried to follow her, almost losing her in the crowds before she found the other girl climbing on top of a trash can to get a better view of the lake. There wasn’t enough room up there for the both of them so she contented herself with just standing nearby, though she shuffled far away enough that she wasn’t standing right next to the trash. The rows of people in front of her meant that she couldn’t see the lake itself, nor the raft that carried Freyja across the water, but that was fine; she’d seen the dance before and the part she was interested in watching would take place above the lake anyway. She could see the sky just fine from here.
After a little while of staring at the back of people hears, Sidney heard Stoat Bilica shout out to begin the best part of the night and slam his cane against the ground. Soon after, hundreds of light lantern floated into the air above the water in a display that had always struck Sidney as being pure magic. The rest of the ceremony continued out of sight, the important people of the town performing the same routine they did every year, handing the old bell off to Freyja before she was pushed out into the lake to dance as the drums beat. Sidney couldn’t see any of that, but she knew it was happening; instead, she just watched the lanterns.
If she’d been thinking ahead, or if she arrived early enough to remember, she would have found a good spot to stand so she could record all this. Or at least take a few pictures. Something she could use later as a reference so she could draw something using the lanterns as inspiration; you’d think after so many years on seeing this she would have run out of ideas, but, nope. Every time she saw those lanterns rise into the sky and their mirrored reflection on the lake it still managed to spark a little bit of creativity in her. Maybe seeing it as a child was even the reason she became an artist in the first place? Who could say? It was so long ago.
Oh well, someone was bound to be recording this. She could just grab it off their socials later, then start drawing. Every year she drew something after the festival; it was like her own tradition.
When the final gong of the bell rippled out across the lake, it took Sidney a moment to realise things were off. She couldn’t see the lake from her position, nor the strangeness of a water’s surface that no longer reflected reality. The people around her had already been still and even the lanterns hanging frozen in the air didn’t strike her as odd immediately. It was only the scream, Freyja’s scream, which clued her in to something being wrong. Water surges upwards, high enough to be seen over people’s heads. Audrey rushes forward and it spurs Sidney to action as well, slowly, walking forward and pushing her way past an unnaturally still and silent crowd as she makes her way towards the water and begins to hear it.
The song.
Sidney slows as she hears the words, confused. She looks around, trying to find a source, but the music seems to be coming from everywhere, nowhere, as if whispered directly into her ears. At first the lyrics make no sense but then, they make all the sense in the world. The words lead her forward again, speeding up as she approaches the lake with less confusion than before. The water, rising up from the surface in unnatural ways, looks more beautiful than anything she had ever seen before. She bumps into someone, her shoulder jostling theirs but she pays it and them no mind.
“Can you hear that?”
Within the pillar lights shone in every colour and beyond those, something else. A city? Sidney can see what look like buildings, tall ones, with lit windows, but it’s hard to make anything out when the water is moving a splitting as it is. she reaches the edge of the water, her shoes and ankles and calves getting soaked immediately as she pays it no mind.
“Can you see that?”
A tendril reaches for her and she doesn’t retreat. It grabs her and she does not struggle. The water closes over her head and she closes her eyes.
----
Sidney opens her eyes and sucks in a breath of the freshest air she’s ever tasted.
She immediately starts to cough.
Sitting up so she can bend over double, she brings a hand to her mouth so she cough up nothing as she chokes on a sudden inhale of too much air. Her soaking wet hair hang lank on either side of her face, more so on the right than the left. Her clothing is wet too; the jacket she wore heavy across her shoulders with all the sodden weight it now held.
Colours swam in front of her eyes, like she’d been staring at a bright light for hours. She blinks to clear it away, but it goes nowhere until she moves the hand from in front of her face. As her hand splashes down into a pool of water, she realises she’s sitting waist deep in a pool and begins to stand. Or tries to, at least. As she places a hand on her knee to push herself up the colours start to swim in front of her eyes again, a dizzying array on them. Her hand is a swirling mass of colours, the skin shifting between greens and reds and yellows and blues as she looks; yellow becomes the dominant colour the longer she stares.
Sidney shoots to her feet, her other hand coming up to roll the sleeve up to her elbow. Her forearm is the same; the skin a bright, vibrant yellow with occasional patches of other colours that bubble to the surface before the yellow overtakes them again. The only spot that doesn’t shift being the butterfly that she had drawn on herself in washable marker the day before; that remains unchanged, though it looks a lot more permanent now than it did before.
A voice calls out nearby and she is shaken from her daze. She jumps and splashes the water around her ankles and sees Odaya standing nearby. A feathery Odaya. Past her she can see Freyja… with horns. There are others too, other voices calling out, other people or other things that used to be people; she’s not sure what to call them.
But she sees and hears none of this.
Sidney follows Odaya’s finger to where she’s pointing and she sees it.
"It's alright, my...well I'm not exactly an exciting person either...forgetting what you saw." David tried to give a laugh as he consciously stumbled over which words he should say it, almost blurting out that he was a boring person as well, which could have some unpleasant implications, especially in front of Rowan. She was a pleasant person to be around with, despite having not interacted much with.
Thankfully, the child they needed to escort was of the Hoar's family, and knowing their position among the town, and their role in the festival, it was not difficult to locate them out of the growing crowds that were attracted by. David followed Rowan to the point where the Hoar patriarch waved for her to come forward with Stig, at which point David simply enjoyed the comfortable position in the crowd to watch the performance. It is not the first time he had participated in this...ritual of sort, but he never got tired of the spectacles. The cane slam to unleash a dome of sky lanterns to create something that could easily be engraved in myths and legends, weaving with the highways of stars above and below them. It was mesmerizing, just as much as the dance being performed on the raft by Freyja.
For a time, he felt his troubles and worries slowly exorcised from his body, as the cool chilly air blew on his face, the stars and moon illuminated him, the sound of the gone washing away the cobwebs. David's eyes closed as to bask in the moment, as the final gong sounded before everything quiet down...
It was not long before David realized that the tranquil had gone on for a bit too long. He opened his eyes again only to realize that the lanterns had frozen still. He looked around to see everyone also remained still, as if time had stopped. But the lake continued to waltz. It would have been just a weird anomaly, until Freyja's panic alerted David that it was not an illusion, not long before a column of water engulfed her whole.
A cacophony of trepidation mixed with a strange sense of curiosity surged within him. His first instinct was to immediately step back, but he couldn't. The lake surface had risen to his ankle, and around each were vortexes that sucked his feet firmly in place. As David struggled in vain to get out, he was forced to witness what was happening. It was not a horrifying experience that he expected, but a genuinely beautiful display of luminescence to the tune of a song. He could not determine where the voice was coming from, seemingly like it was all around him, if such a phenomena was even possible. It was in neither his second language nor his mother's tongue, yet he could understand it perfectly.
His last sight in the realm of the physical was a glimpse of an otherworldly place: a city on water, both upside down and downside up, shining in a momentarily calm water before it began to animate again with tendrils bearing down on the stone-bearing witnesses. One tendril immediately headed for David, as he raised both hands bracing for the force that knocked him out cold. By the time he was awake, he was no longer in the warm place he called home, but as the air rushed through his nostrils, a surge of life coursed through his veins...or what his veins equivalated to. Colours overwhelmed his sensors, him sluggish to register what he had never seen before in him, and also what had become of his body. As his chest laid flat in the shallow surface of the lake, it came to a shock that he could not hear his heartbeat anymore. Was he dead?
But he could still feel his limbs, to some extent. It was a weird sensation though, indescribable to his current state. As he opened his eyes and sat up above the water level, he saw the dizzying island that humbled an insignificant being like himself, before noticing what he had become. His clothes changed for certain, now he donned a dark blue tunic covering all but his foot, hand and head, layered behind a white wide-shouldered half coat with gold outlines. But the most dramatic change was his body. His hand was covered in a weird amalgamation of treated wood, tin and metal. The wood covered most of his palms and fingers on the front side, while the tin covered the backside, along with the joints also made of metal. And were there springs beneath the tin layer he saw?
Beneath his hands were his reflection. David's face had also been covered in tin, his hair solidified, but thankfully the facial features still looked just like the original David. His right eye had turned sapphire blue, the iris turned into a four-pointed star. It did not seem to affect anything with his vision, as he was still seeing just normally, but it was still quite a change. He was not the only one as well, everybody else seemed to be scattered but within proximity of one another.
David finally was comfortable enough to stand up, the clanking sound of rudimentary mechanical work still rattled him a bit. Nearby was Freyja, who now also had antlers and furs. Odaya too, a weird combination of crows and humans. And in the distance were the familiar faces of his school friends.
As Freyja also awakened, the now robotic-like David gave her a helping hand up. Despite the impression that everybody was engulfed by the beastly water, not everybody was here. "Everybody alright?" He asked, his voice seemed to still be normal, though a lot clearer. "Who are we missing?"
The ceremony was magical, and that was before any actual magic had happened. Ambrose followed the crowd like a lost lemming. His eyes fell between being transfixed on Freyja, the music, and his phone. Audrey’s stark [N] and Rowan’s dismissal of him started to hurt. Of course, he knew he should have been a bit more conversational with the former and expected nothing from the latter. Didn’t mean that his pride didn’t sting like alcohol applied directly to a wound. He pocketed his phone about the time the ceremony reached the crescendo.
When the force of the raft pushed ripples out and onto the shore, Ambrose went from highly amused to concerned. For a second he thought maybe New Hope was able to afford both pyrotechnics and hyrdotechnics, but it seemed more like the entire ceremony had gone awry. Logically, Ambrose assumed that maybe something happened with the raft. He inhaled, his chest tightening around the breath. Had he fucked something up? Was Freyja in trouble because of him? Was the entire town in trouble because he fucked up a raft? He glanced around to see everyone standing there, statue-still. It was eerie. He reached out to touch a woman’s shoulder and found that not even the fabric of her clothing moved with the force.
Music thrummed around him. It reminded him of cranking the bass up enough his chest reverberated with the sound. Yet, this was everywhere. The music flowed into him and through him. A chorus of voices singing something—haunting… macabre. “What is ‘yolk bicker’?” About that time, Brown shot off from his side and ran full force towards the lake.
Ambrose’s gaze followed the line of panic toward the lake that seemed to be reaching out, wanting to consume the people around it. Freyja was in trouble. His friend ran towards danger. The music pounded in his head. People were frozen around him. Ambrose went to take a step forward and follow in Brown’s footsteps, but his knees felt like gelatin and his heart seized in his chest. His lungs forgot how to function, and he couldn't get it past his tongue when he tried to force a breath down. The static and lights fizzled on the side of his vision. He didn’t want to be here. He wasn’t scared of what was happening around him, but of what was happening within him. This is why he had a hard time sleeping. The medication that he took to ward this feeling away kept him awake. He hated taking it. But he did, anyway. Anything to soothe the panic in his chest.
He looked up, arms shaking and breathing ragged, to see a tendril of the lake extended towards him. Fine. If this was it. At least it didn’t make any fucking sense. Ambrose shut his eyes tight and refused to open them.
His reality shifted and wobbled, and heat both worrying and comforting engulfed him until the atmosphere broke. It felt less as if he was in some watery purgatory and more on a solid surface. Ambrose lay prone only for a moment before he rocketed up with the speed of a dog hearing its food bowl filled. Air escaped his lungs for a second, he coughed, he wheezed, until he felt his throat open back up and he let in a gulping breath. Slowly, he opened his eyes not sure what he would see. And when he did see it, he was wildly unsure what he was looking at. This all looked… stupid.
“What the fuck?” he asked, still sitting. He then craned his head back to see a creature—a dragon—swiveling in the air. “What the fuck?” He glanced at the amalgamation of weirdos and freaks that surrounded him as he stood. “What the fuck?”
The conversation bubbled around him, and he recognized the voices. They were all people that he was familiar with, some more than others—and then there was Weasel. The fact that the Bilica was a monstrous ape made Ambrose laugh. He brought his hand to his mouth as he did, and an unfamiliar feeling hit him. He pulled his hand back to see that his digits were a blueish-greenish-purple with webbing between them. They were capped off by black, sharp nails. Ambrose yelled and tried to distance himself from his own hand. Upon doing so, he tripped over something else and landed back flat on his back. From underneath his form came a scaled tail with a fan-like fin on the bottom. A quick glance showed that he was mostly still intact. The same height and bulk as before but now the color of a Lisa Frank folder. He was barefooted, but his feet were equally webbed and strange. His ears felt weird against his head and touched them to find that they, too, were webbed. He honestly didn’t know where his ear was. This wasn’t it. Fingers slid down his neck and into a slit where it met his shoulder. It felt like trying to force yourself to vomit by siding your fingers into the back of your throat. He gagged. He didn’t know what those slits were, but his brain was more than confident with one word: gills. He was also greeted by long seafoam hair that curled around his face—and immediately found its way into his mouth. “Pfft…” he let out as he tried to get the strands off his tongue.
“As weird as this sounds, anyone got a scrunchie?”
Theirs was the last performance before the main ceremony. It was a sort of preview of the ritual, except they acted out the other side of it. The unruly demons to be subjugated, the lake waters to be calmed, then the flames cavorting atop the waters and in the skies.
It was mostly through music, dance, and body language that they conveyed the play to their audience. Scant lines were spoken or sung – though those few were all the more poignant and memorable for it.
The beginning was ominous, creeping; the waters surged and spilled, bringing forth with it monstrous beings.
Some in the background played the scared villagers, dressed in outdated casual wear. The lake were several people, dressed in robes shaded a multitude of greens, blues, and even dark purples. The remaining few were the demons; wearing thick furry hides, gruesome masks covering their faces.
The villagers were chased away. The robed folk spun and spun; a devouring whirlpool which would take and take. In the middle, the monsters; waiting, stalking, pushing the water’s edge further out.
The circle of robes widened until person by person, they dispersed offstage.
The harbingers of doom left to their own devices. They stomped, and they ruined; heavy boots thumping across the wooden floorboards as they danced. It was a facsimile of chaos; practiced coordination giving rise to something seemingly unpredictable. Something dangerous. Low, growling hums accompanied it; a wordless song of discontent.
But then, something changed; a procession arrived, and with it, a transition in the music. Two rows of darkly clothed people came on; pair by pair. Monks, each with a khakkhara of their own. Clearly ringing; neat and orderly. A chanting started; from an inaudible murmur, gradually rising in volume.
The numerous priests accomplished what in reality, Freyja was supposed to (believed to) do. The actual sealing procession was considered far too sacred to be mimicked in a play. Thus, it’d been replaced with something similar.
Strange, wasn’t it? When even for the most superstitious, including monsters wasn’t too much?
But then again, maybe the creatures were too fantastical, after all – or imagined so differently, that it was fine.
As all good endings require, evil was vanquished. The devils fled. The monks, then, could leave too.
The full moon watched, still and silent.
Then, the actors returned, now all robed. What followed was the most intricate scene yet; a fabulous finale.
Some wore the blue-greens of the lake, others the fiery orange-reds of light. They swayed and they danced; but then, when some held hands, the roles switched. They turned over their clothing, the other side bearing different colours. The effect was mesmerizing, as roles changed at a moment’s notice.
When it was all over, they were met with thunderous applause. Faces shining with awe, exhilaration, pure joy. That was one of the best feelings in the world, Damon thought.
He was just as jubilant to attend the actual ceremony even as only an observer, however. The ritual of it resonated somewhere deep inside.
But then, something went wrong, and it all started feeling unreal.
Even though he’d been so absorbed in it that he’d genuinely felt it was all true – the demons, the sealing – he couldn’t help but think–
Wasn’t this…just a story?
He broke into a cold sweat, and shivered. Goosebumps formed over all his body, and he rubbed his naked arms. The knowledge that something went terribly, dreadfully awry brought with it shock and horror.
But then the song appeared.
First, it seemed just like one voice; now deep, then high. But no, it was a multitude; a whole chorus. Damon couldn’t tear his gaze away from the fantastical scene occurring atop the lake. He was aghast and amazed at once. Unknowingly, he took a hesitant step forward–
Then he was swallowed up by the water, managing one last panicked breath…But he didn’t hold out for long.
***
He gasped, and found himself half-submerged in an otherworldly lake. The air was so clear, it was almost too sharp; the water so pure, he wondered if it really was just water.
He coughed and spluttered, and dragged himself out. He looked wildly around, and saw all sorts of unbelievable things. Various beings; familiar as they were not. He saw Odaya the crow looking up.
Looked up himself.
Saw a dragon.
And was left gaping open-mouthed.
It took some time for anything else to enter his awareness. When something did, it was David’s question. “Missing?” he questioned hysterically. “We are the missing ones.”@Conscripts
He sighed tremulously, and looked down. His gaze settled on the lake, and almost numbly, he took in the changes to his own form.
His hair was now longer, pitch black but with (super?)natural highlights of blood red. Elongated, pointed ears peeked through. His canines were sharper, too. A pair of ivory white horns curled from atop his forehead. His pupils were slit – like a cat’s, or some snakes’ – and his irises were so strange. There were all sorts of colours there. Each time he tilted his head or tried to take a closer look, they shifted. It took a few flashes of silver – the only consistent thing – for him to realize that they reflected the environmental hues. He went to brush through his thicker mane, but was stopped by two things.
One. His fingernails were now matte black and clawed.
Two. There were these strange broken up lines on his (still pale) skin; spidery, thin, light gray – barely visible, but definitely there.
Like cracks seeping through.
A part of him was tempted to lift up his shirt to check how far they spread.
The other part didn’t want to know.
What the fuck? he thought wildly.
And also, At least it’s not on my face?!
Shifting to sit on his knees, Damon went to splash some water on his face. “Gods…” he muttered.
Finally, he tried picking himself up. But something was off. His shoes felt uncomfortably tight. There was an ominous scratching sound as he moved.
Suspicion arising, he took off his sneakers.
Yeah. His feet bore claws too, now.
And his socks were ruined. Great.
Hearing Ambrose’s remark, Damon snorted. “…I could use some nail clippers, here,” he snarked.@psych0pomp
Then he shot another look at the dragon. “Seems chill,” he commented to no one in particular.
Aleyn could only sigh in disapproval as the ceremony began. This kind of stuff didn't interest the young boy at all, not caring for any of the village traditions. His mind raced with thoughts at the various acts of disrespect that were brought upon him, always facing backlash for just being himself, the village never knowing the amount of pain and suffering that he had endured since his parents went missing. They never cared for him so why should he care for them? Aleyn could only ask himself that question over and over till his head started to throb. So much trauma for one little boy made him jaded toward things that should be fun within the town, but even in his angsty, silent tantrum, his eyes became locked on a certain young woman standing upon the raft.
"STOP STARING AT FREYJA!"
"SHUT UP!"
A yell from behind him and a sharp tug at his shirt alerted the youngster to look down, his golden eyes meeting with the blue eyes of his tomboy baby sister. Looking like a boy, as she always did, Aleyn placed his hand on her head, squeezing tightly till the little girl cried out. She grabbed hand, trying to pry her brother's hand away. Aleyn leaned over and stared at her with a toothy smile like a mad scientist staring at his latest creation.
"Shut yer mou---"
Before Aleyn could finish chewing out his sibling, Freyja's scream filled the air before a column of water rose to swallow her whole. He looked onward with horror and confusion whilst grabbing Alycia up into his arms, the water rose around him at such a speed that no human could possibly move. They were both swallowed up, fear racing through their bodies.
Yo'Bikur
"ALYCIA!"
Aleyn's words went nowhere fast as his face was submerged under the lake water, air bubbles raising to the surface. His eyes shot open, and he quickly threw his head back; Aleyn's breathing matched the speed of his movements, nearly hyperventilating at the events he just went through. Fear still shooting through his body causing the boy to bite down on his bottom lip. "Ow!" he exclaimed as he felt a sharp pain like a blade had dug into his lips. Blood slid down his chin, Aleyn using his tongue to touch the two snake-like fangs that now protruded from the upper row of his teeth. His pupils had become slit like a snake as well, the gold coloring in his iris glowing brighter then normal. Looking downward, his eyes caught a sight that caused more confusion. His shirt was torn up to the shoulder and gave way to a snake tattoo wrapped its way around his right arm up to his neck. Weirdly the tattoo was black and scaly like a snake's skin, Aleyn visibly in disbelief at his body.
"I..." Toby murmured, still unsure of what had just transpired. "I'm cool with anything you want, to be perfectly honest."
The world seemed to be spinning around her - nothing was making sense anymore, everything was haywire. Above all, a deep sense of dread began to coagulate in a pit in her stomach. Something isn't right.
She still seems tense but perhaps a little small talk will help her relax for a bit.
"Okay dude! so did you know that almost all the old ladies across my neighborhood once challenged my grandpa to a baking contest? Yeah that is the reason he is not allowed to compete anymore..."
-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-
He had almost forgotten the traditional gathering at the edge of the Lake, he couldn't see Grandpa anywhere but he would have surely been annoyed if Will had forgotten to attend, maybe enough to punish him by giving him ... extra math problems. Suppressing a shudder at the horrifying thought he looked toward the beginning of the ceremony.
Freyja really got into the role of Miko and he was impressed by how well she danced! He remembers trying some of the moves when he was younger and falling between steps or doing the wrong thing, good memori-
"What is that voice?"
A soft melody in a girl's voice reached his ears and the moment he tried to focus on it was like a spell was cast on him, he didn't notice the column of water or the panicked Hoar the Lake shallowed, ignored the people rushing towards the water and away from it, it didn't even occur to him that the vast majority of people were frozen in time with his dear Abuelo being one of them, even the girl grabbing his side felt out of focus. No, the moment he registered the singing voice all his worries simply were discarded as irrelevant and a distraction, so he didn't even have a single thought hesitated a second on walking towards the lake and entering the water, closing his eyes as the water consumed him.
Yo'Bikur
The moment he opened his eyes again he found himself laying on his back and strangely at peace, of course, that only lasted until he heard the confused and sometimes panicked voices of his fellow abductees. which prompter him to raise to his feet as fast as he could!
Only to trip a moment later as an unexpected weight on his back throwing off his balance and because his feet were no longer feet, instead before there were normal human extremities now stood a par of hooves that transitioned from hairy goat legs to his normal ones between. He stood a moment just contemplating the change, he knew that he should have some kind of reaction to the change but it somehow felt... natural, as if that was something that always had been there and he just didn't notice. Carefully and slowly he raised again, this time getting on his knees before standing up, once he was fully vertical again he finally fell on his back for the weird weight settled there only to receive two sensory feedbacks, one the feeling of feathers and the other of clay upon his wings.
Finally giving on to his curiosity he approached the nearest pond with steps that slowly grew in confidence, looking at himself in the reflection he finally saw what the thing on his back was.
"Oh they are wings"
A moment later the change finally registered in his mind and chased away the strange dissonance he had been experiencing.
"OH MY GOD THEY ARE WINGS!"
Excitedly he tried to flap them and after a few seconds managed to get them to twitch and spasm before he remembered that there were others around and there was a lot to process.
With hurried steps (and silently handing who he though was Ambrose a rubber hair tie), he made his way to Sydney's side (Syd was here! and she looked like a painting!) before looking in the direction she was looking at. That was when he finally noticed the dragon. @psych0pomp@King Cosmos
That said he never noticed that his hair was moving in erratic patterns. almost like of had a mind of its own.
Once the song reached her ears, it was already over. The trance could've been a discordant scream, a painful un-melody, and it still would've drawn her in. But instead, it was a gentle tune, a kind tune. One that spoke directly to her soul, beckoned for her approach. It was not a fight, not a battle- it was there, and it was over.
Toby closed her eyes, and allowed the waters to envelop her, though she at least maintained the lucidity to keep a grasp onto Will beside her. @Teyao
Yo'Bikur
Voices could be heard around her, that much was certain. Murky, muddled, and just a [i]tinge/i] of an echo commiserating within them, as if she was still underwater. Toby struggled to rise to her feet, before letting out a strained shriek.
They were... it was difficult to describe without hurling out her insides. If she even had any.
Her feet were... She could barely even detect the skin on them. In some spots, they were the palest pallor of white she'd ever seen, brighter gleam than any patch of icy snow. In other places, especially near her extremities, they were more translucent than white, showing patches of her sinew and bones, along with a pale, greyish fluid that now seemed to course about her.
Crawling over to the pond to desperately gleam at the rest of her appearance (noting, as well, as that even getting around was seemingly a chore), she could only stare back in half-catatonia.
Her face and neck were... similarly ghastly and half-translucent as compared to her limbs. What's more, she seemed to have a few open wounds and gashes about her, and yet they seemed not to bleed, instead being dead and empty, like that of a corpse. Her hair was matted and coarse, her lips parched and split. Her eyes... they were a disturbingly milky hue of white and blue.
Toby suppressed the sobs that were building up inside her. What had happened to her?
With panic and desperation, she caught sight onto the others around her, lurching and trembling her way to them - perhaps they could help her fix this?
Audrey was a little distracted by her own skin(with its shine, she'd expected it to be slimy, but it was kind of waxy feeling), but she was wrenched away by a sudden shriek of terror. Her head snapped up, because she knew the voice well. There was her cousin, sort of. Audrey had missed her, still laying in the water a moment before, and at first she was quite alarmed by the apparent state Toby was in. But then, she was acting about right. The voice was familiar, as was the general air of panic. She had just been changed, like the rest of them.
"Hey now, Toby!" she called out, wading toward the panicking zombie. "It's me, Aud. Will's here too, we all look a little different. You're okay, here, look," when she got to her cousin, she tried to gently steer her to see the man at the bridge, rather than the dragon in the distance, which would only serve to alarm her further. "This nice man is here to help us out, let's ask him what's going on, okay? You're safe, Tobes, I got you."
As she spoke, she looked sharply at the stranger, as if to say That had better be why you're here.
Brown's anxious joke warrants a sidelong glare from Weasel, who still gasps for breath. The ape-like teen pulls his younger sister closer and keeps his arms protectively around her only for his gaze to get dragged upwards as realization dawns upon him. He seems to forget to breathe, his eyes widening at the sight of the beyond-gargantuan creature that appears, wreathed in fire which outshines even the illustrious fireworks, and alights upon a nearby sky-bound island. When Weasel's dazed nature wears off, he appears to have regained his breath. Odaya's childlike wonder, however, was not enough to stay her piercing gaze from sweeping the island ere long.
"Pffff." Odaya begins to chortle in a ceaseless laugh as she twists in Weasel's arms and clambers partially onto his shoulders. She begins pointing at each and every single person present and laughs with increasing intensity until at last she goes tumbling over Weasel's shoulder and onto the ground, clutching at her stomach as she doubles over. "Y-You're all freaks!- You're blue- she's a deer!- Paper boy paper boy-" And, at last, her gaze fell on Damon. "-And Freakshow's showing his true colors!"
Somehow, when she said 'freakshow', it sounded truly endearing rather than Weasel's outright cruelty. Like, to her, it wasn't a bad thing in itself. She manages to her feet, Weasel rubbing his throat as if realizing he could breathe easier. At last, Weasel rises to his feet and in silence quietly studies each of those present. His fiery eyes memorizing everyone's faces and changes without judgement- his cruelties were planned and thought out, not prejudiced, and if there were to be any nicknames, prods, pokes, or conflicts they could come with time. The Big Fish, as it were, was out of familiar waters. His gaze sweeps over the pool of sweet waters as the last of them emerges; Alycia, sister of Aleyn, gasping and trembling on the bank. The young girl struggled for breath as Weasel had, but her eyes were locked on Freyja rather than worried for herself.
Alycia's hair flowed, wisplike and shadowy about her face and shoulders. Her hair ties appear to have gone missing in the transition to the Dreamlands, and with every breeze that passed over the island her hair billowed with it in the manner of smoke on the wind. Cloudlike, if not for the brown colors that shifted and swirled in on itself, which seemed to broadly describe her appearance now in general; she seemed to be possessed of a 'floatiness'. As she crawled out of the waters, it was clear that at times she displayed a simple weightlessness and would drift forward rather than touch the ground- but was unaware of this herself, and her movements seemed required for to transport her despite this semi-hovering state. Cloudlike was a good word, if a cloud of shadow was bound to the earth by tether.
When Alycia's hand touched Freyja's face, it was as if a shock went through them both. Suddenly Alycia ceased her gasping and seemed at peace; Freyja's eyes shot open and in a blur the cloven-girl was upon her hooves, stumbling in dizziness and the efforts to regain her balance. She failed, at first, but David's offered arm was there and she clung to him desperately, stumbling against his tin side in full- her antlers clanging against his shoulder in the process. She was briefly dazed by all these sensations, but squinted in an unseeing manner at David as she squeezed his arm in her hands.
"Here." Alycia said, offering up Freyja's glasses. At the familiar voice, Freyja held out her hand and pulled the glasses on- only to gasp and step away from David. Her footing was now sure with her regained eyes, and the strangeness of this initial presentation of the metal-man before her. Recognition flashed in her amber eyes and she placed a hand against her lips as if to shield her surprise.
"David?" She looked about frantically. "The lake- The raft- the bell!-...A Dragon?" Her rising panic stopped in its tracks and she stared at the slumbering behemoth's visage in the distance, lost to the world briefly in her own thoughts.
"This nice man is here to help us out, let's ask him what's going on, okay? You're safe, Tobes, I got you."
As she spoke, she looked sharply at the stranger, as if to say That had better be why you're here.
Audrey's words left her lips, and as if drawn by her gaze the pale figure strode at last to the midway point of the bridge and bowed low to the arriving teenagers. His long braid fell forward over his shoulder as he performed this estranged kowtow, but he made a flourishing gesture and caught the bulk of it upon his arm to stop it from dragging upon the bridge itself. He remained like that for a few seconds, before rising back up to his full height and gazing down from the pinnacle of the arcing bridge.
"I am Eckehart, herald of Rulania."
His lips moved strangely, but the words that left them arrived at your ears in your common tongue. If one were trying to read his lips it would have been incomprehensible, but the air itself thrummed with comprehension beneath the unending notes of The Song. Oh, the Song, how it beckons! His voice was the quiet whisper-speech of one to whom silence is more natural than speaking, but it was a voice pleasing to the ear in its own way. A voice for sharing secrets with, in the quietude of a library.
"The True Voice has been waiting a long time for you. Come. Follow and be merry for this is the Eve of the New Year and you are guests of honor. Stray not from the path I take, lest you get swallowed in the festivities. All will become clear as we travel."
And with that, Eckehart turned and strode away in impossibly long steps. The man was mostly leg if his walking was to be any indication.
Weasel frowned and cast a glance to Ambrose; "I don't like this, this is too...Good." He concludes lamely, his words echoing the underlying sensation filling everyone- this was good. "I'll watch your back if you watch mine." And with that, he hefts Odaya up onto her feet and begins to follow Eckehart with her in tow. Even in this paradise, with the Song flowing over them, Weasel's response to all things good and wholesome was to be worried and skeptical. This was, perhaps, the most insight anyone present besides Brown had into his mentality in years of knowing him.
"Will has wings." Freyja says in the manner of one whose thoughts escape their lips. "Wow." It was idle but an observation which seemed uniquely astounding to her. Her reverie ended swiftly thereafter, and she grinned widely. "Damon, at least you have feet!" She prances forward lightly on her hooves, the shrine maiden uniform billowing about her movements. "I have no idea what a Rulania is, but I'm dying to meet it. Gods above, if it's the thing that's singing right now then she has a voice I could listen to forever."
It seems Freyja was hearing a girl sing with this revelation...
And thus the path seems natural to follow.
The sights you all witness will be grand and strange. Feel free to embellish your travels through the city of Xaktin in colorful and fantastic ways. The island you are leaving is already high up on the city's structure, meaning that the trip will be shorter rather than longer and Eckehart is an easy figure to follow; any crowds in the streets part for him and allow easy following. Most beings in the city are bipedal and humanoid in shape, but all are strange and clearly not human in origin like yourselves- at least, not humans from your own Earth if they are. Of note, there are handfuls of beings of myriad shapes and sizes who have the same symbol as Eckehart upon their throats, glowing golden and gentle as The Song washes over the city. These beings appear to be of some import, but do not hold themselves in superiority over the average denizens of the city. Indeed, scarce few- Eckehart being the notable one- are doing anything besides engaging in the revelry of the celebration...
But as You All pass by, in the wake of Eckehart, each one of these throat-symbol-bearing-beings turn and bow to you. Vendors from their stalls even offer mundane gifts of trinkets and garb as Eckehart passes by- further clueing you all in to his particular significance.
Rowan, in particular with her distinct aesthetic, seems to receive a more broad respect from even the non-symbol-bearing crowd, and at one point in her travels she will find her hand suddenly grabbed and something placed within it from a silhouette in the crowd; she would not be able to see who performed this act, but in her hand is now a polished stone, smooth and black as obsidian, but imperfect; it was graven with etchings of the stars and moon upon it.
The talking between her friends and acquaintances fell into the background of Rowan's mind. The scale of change to herself was enough, but the surrounding environment was equally alien to her if not more so. The mix of strange colours and odd amalgamations sent her mind racing to find reason in all of it. Why were the islands floating? Why was that tune still ringing in her ears? And the dragon flew above the grand city before them. Such a landmark of fantastical creatures that never existed for a simple reason, the environment could not accommodate it. Rowan gazed upon it all like she would a distant lightning storm back in New Hope. There was beauty and danger alike that brought her awe.
But her passive ogling eventually turned to calculated surveying and then finally to movement. Her two feet were planted firmly on the ground. A brief raise of her heels offered no more and no less resistance than as if she were back in New Hope. That was a base of reality she could centre herself in. Furthering that, the grass was mostly the same colour. Grass was green for a reason, the fact that it wasn't sporadic rainbows of colour meant there was some reason for that. While these basic realities were a meagre comfort in the vast span of fantasy in front of her, they still provided some comfort nonetheless.
'This place may be strange. But it follows some logic, therefore it can be understood.' Such a sentiment soothed Rowan's anxieties for a moment.
Then her attention followed straight to the dragon. It looked beautiful dancing above the city before finding its resting place. Such behaviour could only bring the assumption that this one had some peaceful relation to the people of the city. But it got her wondering, if the world she left behind wasn't able to accommodate something like a dragon, what sort of environment could? What sort of other dangers could be lurking in this new world. It didn't pass her notice that the dragon sported impressive claws and presumably sharp teeth. Much like the grass being green, the dragon had those for a reason too.
"Y-You're all freaks!- You're blue- she's a deer!- Paper boy paper boy-"
Odaya's sudden outburst was enough to break Rowan from toiling on her thoughts further. She could finally take in the appearance of her company and found there was some truth to it. Rowan herself allows herself a light-hearted giggle at this. Odaya was correct, there were some crazy-looking figures which helped release the tension. But it was more because she found Odaya's expressiveness endearing and didn't want to see her laughing alone.
As for the following conversations in the group, Rowan kept to being a passive observer and seldom made an impact on their discussions. Although she took particular note of Freyja was hearing a song. Perhaps it was similar to what Rowan was hearing just with a voice this time.
'Why does she hear a voice?'
At some point in the journey, Rowan became aware of the special consideration from the crowd. Although their behaviour seemed respectful, she would be lying if she said it was adding to her sense of angst about the situation. Compared to the spectacle the others displayed in their new forms, Rowan's was quite understated. So it left her wondering what had got the crowd to pay her any particular mind.
Rowan eased the feelings with the practised response of a short head bow. She sure hoped that was the correct thing to do. A nervous chuckle escaped her every now and again.
Someone grabbed her hand from the crowd and Rowan stumbled a bit in shock. Then just like that, the hand let go leaving something weighty in her hand. "Oh, excuse me, you dropped someth..." Quickly turning to the crowd, however, offered no answers as to who had done this. No one was quickly retreating, nor was there a hand which remained outstretched. Just the same unrecognisable faces of an equal suspect.
What was left in her hand was a beautiful polished stone marked with moon and stars. In other circumstances, Rowan could mistake it for a nice display piece at a gift shop of some sort. But who would go out of their way to place the rock in her hand in such an abrupt and mysterious way? What type of object necessitated such a means of transferal? And who wouldn't want to be seen after doing such a thing?
"Hey, does anyone know what this is?" Rowan said toward the group, trying her best not to draw the crowd's attention to the stone in the process.
Sitting cross-legged, Damon peeled off his holey socks. Though he wasn’t being careless, per se, his clawed fingers made additional punctures in the cloth. “Hm.” This could be a hassle.
With all the otherworldly, fantastic things going on, it was simpler to focus on the most mundane concerns – at least until he got his bearings.
Huffing, he balled up the socks, pushed them into the shoes, grabbed the sneakers and picked himself up.
The ground was really soft, and pleasant to burrow his toes into. The dewy grass was cool, but not uncomfortably so.
The Song still beckoned them, and Damon looked around to try and find its source.
However, he was distracted by Odaya, who began laughing at them all. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s this world’s idea of a joke,” he retorted to her remark, rolling his eyes. Maybe it was because he’d been one of those acting as a demon in that one play. Or it was a terrible pun on his name.
…Possibly it was something melodramatic about how he viewed himself, or how he thought others did.
But there were much more fun and wondrous things to think about.
At Audrey’s prompting, a tall, thin man approached them. He was a tad vampiric, but the strangest thing about him was that scar. The youth stared at it for a long, moment, before realizing that was probably rude. Then, his gaze settled on the glowing collar-like symbol.
Which was likely also impolite, so he looked into the man’s eyes instead.
But, just then, the guy bowed to them. Really low.
And, wow, that was a lot of hair to manage.
When Eckehart rose up, Damon gave him a bemused nod, then felt prompted to bow in return. It was shallower, and less refined, the kind he’d given to Odaya what felt like forever ago. “Hello…?” he greeted with an awkward smile.
All sorts of questions were trying to bubble to the surface. “Is that from an injury?” Since his thoughts were so disordered, perhaps it was inevitable that the first one to emerge was inappropriate. “Uhhh…” his cheeks coloured as Damon forced himself to ignore that scar. “Sorry, never mind that.” Sheepish, he looked away. His gaze was drawn to the dragon. “Is that…? Are they….Ru-la-ni-a?” he carefully worded the name. He wasn’t all that certain about his guess, but he was sure that the dragon was at least somehow related.
Emboldened now that they had a guide – that they weren’t just entirely unto themselves in a strange new world – Damon followed after Eckehart. He had to move somewhere between a quick walk and a light jog to catch up, but didn’t seem bothered by that. “True Voice?” he questioned. He assumed that's what that Song was. “Do you hear it, too?” He really hoped ‘all would become clear’, because in stories, cryptic remarks like that weren’t usually followed by immediate explanations.
He glanced at Zeke when the teen said this seemed suspiciously good. “It is a weird situation,” Damon had to acknowledge. Weird didn’t even begin to describe it. And, if it weren’t all so beautiful, enthralling, and enchanting, maybe he would call out the strangeness; compare it to a kidnapping scheme, or some cult thing.
But when the Song was so sweet, how could it be bad?
Freyja pranced past him, remarking that at least he didn’t have hooves. “You got used to those fast, though,” Damon pointed out, amused.
They delved from the island into the city. It was a city unlike any he’d ever seen, but there were building, roads, bridges, stalls…It was recognizable, just foreign. The roofs were vibrantly coloured, some buildings had no edges he could see, and some were overgrown by foliage – or made in the hollows of trees and the like? There were numerous shopkeeps peddling their wares, and people – beings? – were dancing, and drinking, and buying, and watching…
He didn’t know if there was a single ‘human’ there, though many were humanoid. A charming dark gray lady, long tail swooshing behind her, pink tufts on its end; her long light gray hair braided and beflowered, a light almost see-through dress adorning her. A cheerful white-haired boy perching on a thin laundry line, huge white wings folded behind him. A being of unknowable age and gender, who was all fire, and magma. A green male naga. A chunky, furry, horned and teethed and multi-eyed thing (person?) who could walk on all fours or stood up on their hind legs to tower over everyone else.
Some of them had the same symbol as Eckehart, and each of them bowed. Damon nodded and waved to each of them in return. But from all of those, their guide was the only one receiving gifts. So, maybe, he was the senior herald? Still, if these beings were special, then what about them, whom Eckehart had called honoured guests? If they were all chosen, or called here for some reason…They must be important, too.
Ambrose’s eyes fell on the man that approached them. He stated, simply, a sentence that Ambrose couldn’t glean heads or tails of. “Oh boy, none of those words are in the Bible.” Then the man, Eckhart if to be surmised, started to walk away. Ambrose felt the draw to follow him as everyone else did. Maybe it was the lemming part of his brain.
Weasel spoke to him, and he shot an odd glance at the now-large-ape-boy. Yet, his skepticism wasn’t wasted on Ambrose’s ears. He nodded along. “Fair. I guess being transported to Narnia can call a truce on whatever beef was between us before.” Not that Ambrose knew what was. He just knew that Weasel disliked him, thoroughly, and it had caused Ambrose to respond in kind. His webbed fingers played with a rubber band that had shown up in his hand earlier. He had been overwhelmed by new senses to the point that he didn’t know who or what had deposited in his grasp—or if he had just materialized with it. He knew one thing; he was not about to put it in his hair. This was a lot of hair, and rubber bands were not kind to it. He’d dealt with having his cousins, when they were little, deciding to band his hair up as he was napping. It was such a traumatic experience removing them that Ambrose wished it on no one. So, he instead pocketed it—surprised and delighted that his pants had them.
Everyone walked along, probably too stunned by what was happening to really bring up what had happened before. Yet, it was all Ambrose could think about. He was glad that Freyja was alive and well, even if he was unsure if antlers would be the best for walking through doorways. Brown seemed fine. Rowan seemed to not pay him any attention. Audrey didn’t give him a mention either, but then again, she didn’t owe him that. None of them owed him attention. Instead, he just walked along, ruminating on the panic he’d had. He hadn’t dived directly into danger like Brown. Nope, he'd frozen like a coward. He’d lost his ability to breathe and fell to his knees. Ambrose did a check of his pockets again. It would be foolish to think his meds would have traveled with him. Then again, he also had gills—what could be conceptualized as breathing? He was starting to get a headache.
A mutter through the group about a song caught Ambrose’s attention. He hadn’t heard anything like that. Yet, when he stilled his mind, there it was. Freyja had mentioned a beautiful lady singing. Ambrose just heard a choir. So, afraid that his brain song was broken—he shrugged. “Sure.”
He then looked out at the landscape as they walked. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen before that hadn’t been painted on the side of an 80s wizard van, and even then there were things that didn’t make sense. “Oh shit, those birds have four wings,” he muttered under his breath. “Birds don’t have four wings right?” he asked before sucking back the question. “Kidding, of course, they don’t.” He laughed, nervously.
As they pushed into the city, people were passing like Moses had parted the seas themselves. A lot of Christian references today, Ambrose thought. Maybe he was just trying to remember where the dragons were in the Bible. He felt something pressed into his hand. When he glanced up, a woman with a large cat-like face bowed away. A smile on her long, sharp lips. He glanced at it. It was… a… something. It looked like a two-sided spoon trapped in a ring and tied to a ribbon. Ambrose jangled that around for a bit before narrowing his eyes at it. His attention was drawn to how Rowan seemed to be the pull of everyone’s attention. She disappeared for a second before coming back into the group. There was something cradled in her hand. In a hushed tone, she asked what it might be. “Looks like a moonstone to me,” Ambrose offered, remarking on the celestial visage carved into the rock. “Sorry, bad joke. I don’t know. I barely know what this is.” He jangled the weird spoon thing at the rest of them.
“Am I supposed to wear it around my neck? Double up on the spoons? Is this a soup-based culture?”
