Confessions.

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Blythe
I talk WAY too much
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Confessions.

Postby Blythe » Sun Mar 18, 2018 4:00 pm

(This contest is inspired by the shopping scene in the 1984 movie Night of the Comet)

You’ve done it. We’ve all done it. Time to admit it and win a prize!

You’ve woken up in Valorn and no one else was around. You’ve run amok. You’ve ‘sampled’ things without paying: a sip of ale, a nibble of pie... Or perhaps something a little less innocent?
You’re the only soul around and all the lands are your playground. What have you done that no one else has witnessed? No harm, no witness, no foul; right?

You don’t need be an exquisite writer for this contest. Prose is awesome, bullet points are acceptable, some semblance of grammar preferred... or make it rhyme, if you wish. Must be at least three ‘things’ that you have done (or would do).

A little confession goes a long way...

(Raffe and Bebhinn are co-sponsoring as judges and not allowed to enter. You may have one entry per character. You may not include anything involving Sunrifter or that inflicts direct harm on other characters - like punching someone while they are asleep.)
I'm sorry, I can't hear you over the sound of how awesome I am :D
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Blythe
I talk WAY too much
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Re: Confessions.

Postby Blythe » Sun Mar 18, 2018 4:16 pm

Feel free to ask questions if you like :-)

I also forgot to add: Contest will run until 12pm central April 1.
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suncatcher
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Re: Confessions.

Postby suncatcher » Sun Mar 18, 2018 8:58 pm

(#195614 -- Faulknar)

The statuette sat crooked. Or rather, it stood, fluttering robes caught in a wind still as breath held. Carved eyes suggestive of watchfulness, though gods alone knew if any sights might be seen through cut irises and pitted pupils. In times past, a singular priest watched over the carving and its companion, but no more.

The statuette was turned slightly, no longer crooked. There was no harm.

Hats lined the fake heads in the stall of finery. Casting shadows between eyes and skies, in the most vibrant colors, even the black. They rested as fancy things, all the most well-made on display. Somewhere among the keepings, or perhaps in the empty home, the imperfect or unlively may have been discarded. In times past, a singular shopkeep eyed the nobility served.

One less imperfection is discarded, with the coin price left at the stall. There was no witness.

The railings stood strong at the edge of the platforms. They barely looked to shift in wind. They stood sentry and reminder, of the black-lined ocean below them and the fearless might of those who built them. A treacherous memento of the braves who up-kept them. In times past, the birds bearing writing would fly to and fro over the railings, bringing words between those who might not visit in person.

It was a boyhood dream to stand tall upon the railing, and now absent the danger...yes.

There was no fowl.

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Lavender
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Re: Confessions.

Postby Lavender » Mon Mar 19, 2018 12:04 pm

Lavender; normally so very modest; scans the balcony for more people then just those that tend the bar. Sighs softly, revelling in the solitude. She moves a few chairs then pulls her cloak off draping it over the chairs. Removes her dress, a shell suit under it, she lays her robe on the floor and lays there on the balcony of Caernivale's pub behind her cloak. Sunning and enjoy the ocean breeze and the music the waves make as they break on the shore.

Seeing her guilds hot spring is actually empty as, Lavender slips down the stairs. She changes to her shell suit and dives into the water, so relieved and overjoyed that Cody taught her to swim
She often takes advantage of that and let's the heat of the water melt away the ache in her muscles. Occasionally drifting off to sleep there. Waking looking like a prune...she gets out hoping no one found her asleep there.

Normally very good about not over eating, Winters Warming gets her every time...the mulled wine,
the hot soups. Thank goodness for all the running the raids of the land provide or Lavender could find her clothing had a "Shrinking spell" placed on it.
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Lavender
Kindness is more important than wisdom, and the recognition of this
is the beginning of wisdom. –Theodore Issac Rubin.
It takes courage to be kind. - Maya Angelou.

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Bifrost Janger
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Re: Confessions.

Postby Bifrost Janger » Mon Mar 19, 2018 3:43 pm

I am Legend - The Bif Edition.

My name is Bifrost Janger and I am incredibly rare. In fact, I am an endangered species. The last human. On par with other mythical beasts like the unicorn and the dragon. I'm not sure of what happened to the others, but it has been a full cycle since I seen another. The last I seen was Pallas, in the centre of Milltown. We were the only two souls there among the dust and tumble weed. He shouted out to me, "Bifrost, what are you doing outside?! RUN!" And then disappeared back into the shadows before I had chance to ask what or why.

I went to the castle to see if I could find anybody else, but found it to be equally deserted. Cordelia's crown was even left; carefully sat upon the plump cushion that pads the throne as though someone had placed it there on purpose. I picked it up and put it on my head for a little bit. But Cordelia's head must be bigger than mine and it was an uncomfortable fit. That, and it made my neck ache. I left it somewhere in the kitchen while I raided the pantry. After stuffing myself, there was so much surplus food that I thought I'd pack some up and take it to the Gremlins. But then I realised that I could save my arms and just invite the chaps over!

After eating, we got rather drunk down in the wine cellar. Then we went to the barracks and I put on Hojo's armour and had a bit of a dance while the Gremlins played the pots and pans. There were rather a lot of what seemed to be biscuit crumbs in Hojo's pockets. I think one of the Gremlins made off with the crown. I haven't seen it laying around anywhere.

The following morning I awoke in the Royal four-poster bed with a Gremlin foot in my face and a sick feeling in my tummy. That turn was a cleaner one. I made a cup of tea and went to the library to begin composing The Tome of Humans. I supposed someone ought to keep the history of our species and that task had ultimately fallen upon me. I was sure to include important things, such as our love of tarts and how breeding pairs gift their mate's with rings.

Over the long turns I added several other titles to the royal library, including:
Humans. What do they? How? And Why?
People Peopling.
And,
Why Some Folk are Purple.

***

Luckily, when the Centaur rode into Dundee to see me, I was dressed beautifully in one of Viviyana's gowns. If they had came the turn before I wouldn't have looked nearly as impressive in Kaballoi's old cloak. I also occasionally enjoyed wearing Cody's jazzy trousers with the flame design. Bebhinn's goldspun was another favourite. Ellyana's cloak of thorns, not so much: It tangled in my hair and wasn't nearly as comfortable. Raffe's mom wasn't around to give me a haircut anymore so I'd been left unshorn. That's another thing; wherever everyone else was, they certainly weren't wearing any pants. I didn't wear anyone else's underwear, mind you, that would've been weird. Save that one time when I stuffed a bra with socks...

Anyway. The Centaur, I suppose, had came to see the mythical last human. And what a splendid sight I must have been to behold, in my fine gown with my hair growning wild about my shoulders. I'd even grown a little bit of a beard and had woven it with fresh Mirandines just that morning. Cleb, my Gremlin companion, looked equally as handsome in his tricorn hat with a shiny ring upon each of his little fingers. The Centaurs must have been suitably impressed as they visited us often after that first turn. I often seen them wandering about town and dipping into human dwellings.

The sight of humanoids in town became rather commonplace. Very cosmopolitan, this new age. Gnomes taken up residence in Jeffrey's (the Gremlins thought they'd grown a bit uppity since the humans vanished) and from time to time a Troll would wander into town to itch himself on the signpost. More seldom seen was an Ogre or Sea Dweller, but I suppose those chaps had always had homes of their own. Branishore, became completely inhabited by Sea Dwellers.

***

The seasons slip by and I remain quite alone. I dress as the people I used to know, sometimes I make believe that I am them. I roll in unkempt flowerbeds and hold ragtag humanoid parties in the grand ballroom. I think about naming myself Archmage, but then dismiss the idea as silly.

One particularly lonesome turn I find my feet have taken me back to a little house with a peeling yellow door just outside of Milltown. My mind casts back to a conversation I once had with Clement Fiddleford (bloody Clement Fiddleford), about zombies and how they go back to haunt the places where they once dwelt. Like how the zombie pirates still linger around their ships. Zombies aren't humanoids, though. Bloody Clement Fiddleford.

Either way, I have shuffled my way like a zombie back to a place that I once knew. I'm in my usual pigeon-grey trousers and waistcoat today; regular Bif. With no one coming or going the creeping flowers have grown right across the door and I have to force my way inside. I could never have come here if anyone were still around. This is my parent's house. The house that I grew up in, but am no longer welcome at.

I don't know what I expected to find inside. There isn't even a lingering scent of home. Everything just smells like dust. A portrait in pencil hangs above the fireplace; my siblings and I, Rifter-bleached and ghostly. The pencil never could capture the reds of our hair anyway. Mum had a passing artist to draw it. It had cost her five gold pieces. My gaze lingers upon the depiction of my eldest brother, Gren. Though he is only around his fourteenth summer when the artist captured him, he should be about thirty now. He was trying his hardest to grow a beard before he left home. I never did see him again to see how him and his beard had gotten on. He'd left home to be a warrior. Everyone knew that he would do it. He was tall and strong and good. No one had any doubt.

There was a time that I used to worry of bumping into Gren. I don't know what I'd have done if he thought me crackers as the rest of them. I knew he wouldn't though, he was friends with the Ogre Boy. Still, it's a worry that I needn't have anymore. No risk of running into him now.

Sometimes I think I hear the rumble of Draekyn's disapproving voice on the wind.

Hopefully, all of them will be back some day.
Fear is a strange soil. It grows obedience like corn, which grow in straight lines to make weeding easier. But sometimes it grows the potatoes of defiance, which flourish underground. - Terry Pratchett

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Blythe
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Re: Confessions.

Postby Blythe » Wed Mar 21, 2018 3:03 pm

I am enjoying these so much so far!!!

As a Bonus - We will reveal our 'confessions' to all participants at the end :)

Show me yours, and I will show you mine! :lol:
I'm sorry, I can't hear you over the sound of how awesome I am :D
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Bebhinn
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Re: Confessions.

Postby Bebhinn » Wed Mar 21, 2018 6:52 pm

Blythe wrote:I am enjoying these so much so far!!!

As a Bonus - We will reveal our 'confessions' to all participants at the end :)

Show me yours, and I will show you mine! :lol:


**she gulps, her face pales**

Bebh xx
War is a game that is played with a smile. If you can't smile, grin. If you can't grin, keep out of the way till you can.

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Blythe
I talk WAY too much
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Joined: Sat Dec 24, 2005 2:27 pm
Location: The Space Between

Re: Confessions.

Postby Blythe » Sun Apr 01, 2018 1:55 am

Reminder: this ends tomorrow.
I'm sorry, I can't hear you over the sound of how awesome I am :D
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Raffe Rychmin
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