Fading Memory

The Wild Beyond Witchlight

Ey, I only got to go fast because of solo time.

The Wild Beyond Witchlight

Zavakri

& The Dungeon Master

A procession of wooden unicorns stands motionless on a circular wooden platform. Fairgoers clamber onto the unicorns' backs, and a female centaur sets the ride in motion. The unicorns shake their manes and creak to life, cantering around the carousel to the delight of their riders.

The centaur greets Zavakri with a soft smile and voice, "Hello. Welcome to the Carousel. A ride costs only one ticket punch,"

Zavakri's eyes widen upon approach; A carousel was delightfully mundane and wondrously mathematical to her mind. These things were a joy; Let X equal radius, let Y equal acceleration...

Oh, how it gave her mind something to chew on! She was only a mite distracted as she approached the centaur and offered up her ticket;

"Mmm....How fast does it go on the innermost radii?" She asks offhandedly. "Difficult to tell at a glance. My name is Zavakri, how do you do?"

She looked up at the Centaur and blinked, then paused. She'd heard...Many stories about the centaurs of the far eastern steppe. Stories of their raids and their pillages and their conquests and their wildness and the things they did for money and women and power- but for each of those stories, she'd also heard of their pride and their connection to the land and their compassion. This meant she truly didn't know what to think, and this woman seemed pleasant enough.

This damned carnival and the way it's forcing her to face her preconceived notions!

The centaur answers Zavakri's introduction politely and kindly, "It's nice to meet you, Zavakri. I'm Diana Cloppington. I'm doing well this night, how are you?" Zavakri that while the mood around the carnival is joyful, and the centaur seems to be happy herself, there's still a sort of sadness in her eyes.

"Oh, well, I'm quite frantic to be honest. I've got a rather dreadful headache from all the sound- though I did sign up for it!- and I must admit to a rather curious purpose for even being here. Care for a bit of gossip?" She prompted sociably, if awkwardly.

Diana tilted her head in confusion before she answered Zavakri, "...Oh, you mean you want to just talk? Sure, I wouldn't mind a discussion,"

"I'll take the direct stance then; Have you noticed anything odd lately? Folks around here don't seem terribly chipper- least, not you worker types. You have my sympathies if it's the working conditions, but I've gotten some strange feelings by the hall of illusions, and I've also heard some unsavory rumors about people and things disappearing." She says honestly. "It all started with my own sister- and I was wondering if you had any insight into this. I might be able to figure it out... Balance the equation. I'm doing it for me and myself as much as I am for the people who've talked to me, and if you feel put upon just say 'I'm not interested in talking about this' and I'll hop right on my way to ride the carousel. So, what'll it be?"

She produces her ticket.

"Punching my ticket, or talking heart to heart, friend?"

Diana blinked at Zavakri's words. She did a silent gasp in realization that Zavakri is investigating. The woman speaks sympathetically,

"...It's not that I'm not interested in talking, dear. I want to help, truly. But...I can't,"

She then starts "It's--" before she starts coughing violently, practically coughing out...tree sap (?) onto the ground.

She stops coughing after a bit, and she gestures to it while saying, "See? Every time I try, this happens,"

She thinks for a moment, and she speaks, her voice hushed "There is something I can do, though. Listen, you'll need to speak with the unicorns," She nods towards the carousel horses when she says 'unicorns'.

She grabs a paintbrush and a pot of gold paint, as she continues, "I can close the carousel for necessary repairs. Once you help the unicorns, they can talk to you. Can you help?"

She hands the pot and brush to Zavakri

Zavakri's eyes widen at the sap-producing cough; this reeked of fairies and chaos and all things unnatural but torturously tolerated by the Balance. Capital B. She sighed softly; not an unhappy or dreadful sigh, merely the sigh of one about to be put to task.

"This I can do!" She said cheerfully, putting on a smile. She takes the pot and the brush and looks at them directly.

"Sure thing, I'll get right to it!"

Diana gives a small smile and a nod in return. She moves, closes the carousel, and allows Zavakri to get to work.

As soon as Zavakri steps onto the carousel with the pot of gold paint, and brush, in hand, she would see what needs to be done. She would see the unicorns' bridles have names on them, but half of those unicorns' names are faded out and unreadable.

She sees that there are four pairs of unicorns, situated side by side.

For the first pair of unicorns, the left unicorn is clearly named 'Fortune', while the right unicorn's name is faded out except for the first letter: B.

For the second pair of unicorns, Zavakri would be able to read the right unicorn's name as 'Fall'. The left unicorn's name is faded out, except for the first two letters: PR

For the third pair of unicorns, the left unicorn's name is 'Stone'. The right unicorn's name is faded out except for the first and last letters: M, S.

For the last pair of unicorns, the left unicorn is shown to be named 'Stitch', while the right unicorn's name is faded out except for one of the middle letters: N.

Zavakri easily picks up that she is supposed to repaint the faded out names...

Zavakri approaches each Unicorn in order, taking her time and reading and studying each piece of information carefully. She delicately touches over the Unicorns, carefully observes their poses and postures, then takes a few seconds to calculate the approximate word length on each of the bridles based on font sizes and available numbers. Once she has her groundwork established, she carefully and cautiously begins repairing the Unicorns with deft hands and graceful paint strokes.

"Let's see...Rirvudd always says Fortune favors the..." Bold "...Though I think 'Brave' would be much more fitting, I'd rather a brave husband than a bold one...Bold just sounds like trouble with extra steps!"

"Fall...Fall...That's so ambiguous, really; It could be Autumn or it could be 'plunging' or it could be 'tripping', or any other synonyms really...Well, I did stop by the Temple of Tyr once, trying to discuss wedding venues, and that woman had rather strong opinions on..." Pride "...And things falling based on that. I'm not sure how I'd feel having it as a name, and if you'd prefer 'Prince' I'm sure I could adjust the font to make it fit just dandy!"

"As for you...Hmm...Stone...There's lots of things to think about when it comes to stones. My mother used to always say that a Rolling Stone Gathers No..." Moss "...But to be honest, that just sounds downright lonely in this context. Now that I think about it, mother may have also been lonely. She may have felt trapped and her saying it might have been a hint into that facet of her life. I'll be honest, I never had a good relationship with my mother, but I know that settling down and getting married wasn't what she wanted for her life at the time. She wasn't a bad mum, she just had to settle. I'll need to write her more when I get home. For you guys, I prefer to think of it as 'The Happy Stone Collects Moss'. That's much less lonely and makes you guys a happier pair."

"I suppose this is truly the one I have to thank mum for; she was a wiz seamstress. Absolutely dab hand with the needle and thread, some folk even teased she was a witch with needlecraft- which only earned a proper slap from the woman, mind you... This lesson in particular has stuck with me though; A Stitch In Time Saves..." Nine "...Which, as far as names go, are good enough...Stitch saves Nine...Oh, to be Nine!" She laughs gaily. "But I'm out here having to do my own rescuing, eh?"

She finishes up repairing and painting the unicorns, seemingly pleased and fulfilled even if her answers turn out to be wrong. The task itself was simple and earnest, and just doing something helpful for Diana was nice.

As Zavakri paints the names onto the bridles, she would see that the missing letters fit perfectly! Once she finished, Diana calls to her, “Oh! If you’re finished, feel free to ride the carousel. It’s on the house as thanks!”

After Zavakri picks a horse, the ride would begin, with the unicorns coming to life. As the gallop along the circular track, Zavakri would hear words clearly in her mind.

Zavakri smiles to Diana, putting the paint and her ticket away. She laughs softly, shaking herself a bit as she considers the Unicorns. At last, she decided upon Stone as her chosen mount. You knew where you stood with a good stone underfoot. As she rode, her eyes shut and her mind listened. For once on this unfathomable night, she seemed to enjoy herself and relax. Alas, the ride must come to an end at some point, and when it does she steps off the unicorn and softly caresses its head.

"Thank you, friend, you've been very helpful. I now know this errand of ours is most foolish indeed; we are sabotaging ourselves, to be true." She said to it. She pulled herself away and strided to Diana again, more confident and comfortable than before.

"You've been a wonder all in your own right; what brings sorrow to your eye, friend? How can I help Diana, as I helped the Unicorns?"

Diana answers Zavakri, "Oh, don't worry about me. Thank you. I...simply made a bad deal in the past and I'm living with it now," She then tells Zavakri, "Please enjoy the carnival,"

Taking the woman's words as simple honesty, Zavakri curtsies to the centaur. "I can understand that. My Rirvudd has made many 'bad deals', but in our circumstances that's just finances. You have my sympathies, Diana." She offers a kind smile, before rising up and shutting her eyes. "...Well damn, I've a better shot at winning the competition myself than of convincing the others this task is futile!"

She stamps a foot suddenly, her eyes opening, and looks up to Diana.

"I have a set of spare tickets and just learned I don't need them; give them to some little boy or girl who looks like they don't have one for me, would you?" She offers up the children's tickets to Diana, unpunched and fresh, before suddenly turning and breaking into a, for her, reckless pace of 'mild jogging' to the Ticket Booth.

Zavakri easily reaches the booth, pays for tickets for any late comers to the carnival, and heads to her next destination...

The Wild Beyond Witchlight

My style so far has barely needed dice as well, huzzah for roleplay

The Wild Beyond Witchlight

<Snipped quote by Fading Memory>

I can say you’ve made significant progress! In fact, I think it’s almost time to pick where you’d like to go for the sixth hour. XD

@Guardian Angel Haruki

you bastard, making me make choices!

The Wild Beyond Witchlight

I promise you all one thing.

I am progressing. Probably.

The Yurazen Prince - A Tale of Redwall

I have decided to be a little more thorough with my NPC tracker, since my posts seem to be frequently referencing dead beasts.

The Yurazen Prince - A Tale of Redwall

February deserves more days and less time. Let’s steal from June, I say. June doesn’t need 30. Let’s make both 29, and add only half a day on leap years; but then let’s also alternate leap years to a two year gap instead of four. We can then alternate June/February Leap Days. I just feel this would work better.

The Yurazen Prince - A Tale of Redwall

Fix’d

Shugo Tensei Samurai - A Cyberpunk Fantasy RP

The morning had been a blur. Mostly because last night never ended. The city didn't sleep so much as wake up over and over again in a confused blend of time and sensation, never truly knowing when consciousness stopped and new awareness began. Last night was distinct, tangible, definite, and firmly recorded in her memory; There had been a party, a few of her contacts had invited her to it. She knew they were trying to score. She hadn't wanted to go. She walked the streets instead. The solitude was comforting. It was the solitude of someone walking alone in a place filled to the brim with overflowing life and people, edged with danger and the promise of promiscuity and whispered taboo. Compared to Gearbox and the Broken Lands, Sakanoshita was a veritable oasis of hedonism and feel-good attitude. Compared to life in the high Spires, it was a den of base pleasures, hidden fetish, and quiet money.

It was also the district most plagued by Yokai. Part of her trolled the streets praying she'd finally come face to face with one; come face to face with the fools instigating them; finally come face to face with Shingen again. Part of her prayed she'd finally be allowed to die. Part of her prayed she never encountered any of it. Part of her, still, was angry that she felt the need to pray to anything or anyone and wanted to see fire consume this entire district- and the rest of Neo Tokyo with it. It was gripped in this whirling internal philosophy that some foolish, brave, woman approached Butterfly. It had been subtle, but of course Butterfly noticed it; the turning head, the way her eyes followed Butterfly down the street, the way she turned and followed her in that hopeful light jog. Butterfly had shut her eyes and let herself wonder where this was going. Let herself stop in front of that ramen stall. Let herself run through Shingen's lessons;

She had walked quick. She had bumbled into someone in her haste. She was wearing tight clothes- not likely to be concealing any weapons, but there was a pistol open carried on her thigh. A thigh that was a smooth metal, elegant and modern, and fixated itself into Butterfly's mind. This woman was no threat, but for some reason she had not only seen Butterfly but also followed her. Right as the woman stepped behind her and opened her mouth to speak, Butterfly cut her off;

"Hungry? I'm starved. Hadn't realized how long it's been since I ate. My treat."

"--Yeah, sure, let's eat." She had responded, and Butterfly sat with her. For some reason, in all the blur of light and movement, this moment was like a rock blocking the flow of the river of time. Sitting with this woman, eating this food, learning her name was 'Kelly', learning that Kelly was a hostess; discerning that she meant 'thief' but was too smart to blab about it. Butterfly said she was a driver; Kelly discerned that meant so much more than what Butterfly had said, but didn't pry into it. They ate. They talked. Then, the blur continued. Kelly stayed at Butterfly's side. They walked. They talked. Butterfly's new awareness eclipsed last night's consciousness in the morning.

As she picked herself up out of Kelly's bed, her mind provided her with the information that she had found out just where the metal on Kelly's left leg ended and the flesh of her body began. As she slept, the NanoHive within her had purged the flow of chemicals she and Kelly had imbibed the night before. As Butterfly finally pulled her dark red leather jacket back on over her cropped, loose-fitting, top she sat back down on the edge of the bed and let her eyes wander over Kelly. She wondered what it was about the dyed-blonde hair, the cool metal leg, the calloused hands and the thin-bordering-on-starved woman that had wormed its way into her mind. She wondered what it was about the woman that had made her crave sensation and closeness. She wasn't a stranger to these things, far from it, but the companionship of this woman had hit a certain craving within Butterfly that she couldn't place. Not being able to place her feelings was a danger. Shingen had always told her...

Master yourself, Kemushi, before someone else masters you.

Her eyes flashed briefly, cycling to a deep neon green color. She licked her lips, then rose up silently from the bed. She left Kelly there, without another word and without any contact information. Just the stain of lipstick on her clothes to remember Butterfly by. She left, and the blur returned as she left behind that briefly visited island of stability. Morning turned to mid-day. Mid-day turned to evening. The cycle continued, but another rock of stability appeared in the blur...

---

@OwO

Butterfly stopped, her ankle-length skirt flowing around her metallic feet. She tilted her head upwards, her senses registering the sounds of some bullshit going down within the bar- but it hardly required her attention. The One-Eyed-Wolf was more than capable of dealing with any nonsense that came into her bar. Butterfly had learned that lesson well. She tilted her head upwards, her eyes zooming in unconsciously as they picked Cash's form out, dangling from the side of the building. A slow smile spread on her rough features. She clicked her tongue, her eyes returning to their normal settings, as she took a half step back, then performed a series of deft leaps. Her Leg Skimmers fired, blasting her upwards, then over, then off that wall, then into the air-

And suddenly Butterfly planted her metal feet heavily against the wall, hanging off the relay lightly by a hand. Her katana swung on the back of her hips but remained secure. She felt the familiar weight of the pistol holster on her thigh within the skirt, felt the shifting of her jacket, laden with knives and needles, felt the wind in her hair- tied in a loose but functional ponytail- as she soared.

Felt the rope in her hand.

"What am I worth to you right now?" She asked, smirking, as she tugged the rope several times to 'dangle' Cash in the air softly.

The Yurazen Prince - A Tale of Redwall

"Worry not." Ellis began to Bancroft. "Honesty and goodness tends to come out in folk, don't hold it against somebeast to be afraid." His words were soothing and quiet, and he spared a moment to look over Rigby's nicked ear. He clicked his tongue once, before letting out a low chortling laugh from deep within his chest.

"Aye, that little scratch'll do you good I be 'spectin'. Every lad gets scratched and bruised; few get to claim a genuine battle scar, eh Bancroft?" He was jovial as ever, even as his spines finally fell flat from the initial surprise. Swiftly enough, Marigold's deft leaps and graceful descent from the treetops warranted his attention- though only half of it. The other half was lost to the depths of memory.

"Iffen Tybalt were here, and could see mind you, he'd swear the ghost of Juniper just shot at us." He whispered, softly- so softly, it was clearly meant for himself.

But then Marigold is at their side, and Ellis swivels his head upwards and his gaze once again into the now.

"Jethro has good sense, he'll keep things as safe as can be. Rigby's a good lad, and Zaris is a little too keen on seeing danger in the shadows- the Abbey is in good hands, but we do be on the wrong side of 'er walls. We should be able to make the Gatehouse if we keep to the walls; such a creature as that shan't be risking limb to attack against their sides, methinks. Especially not if we have a sharp-eyed archer and a fierce mouse warrior amongst us!" He nods to Marigold, then to Bancroft, as if addressing equals.

"Keep that staff on hand, but do not be tense- keep your wits about you. A warrior with staff but no mind is a warrior disarmed. That goes for you as well, friend; skill with the bow but no sense of the self just leads to bleeding ears! I am Ellis of the Tap, Cellarhog of Redwall Abbey, to get introductions out of the way. Let us make haste, 'fore we're stuck hiding in the shrubbery! Tis Nameday, not a day for sniffing in the dirt!"

And just as quickly as Marigold appeared, Ellis was trundling off alongside the cover of the trees, moving in a lumbering but quiet gait.