Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Jan 2, 2019 5:06:53 GMT -6
Hello Starborn, and welcome to Vagabond Plot 706: The Calling Team Leader: Birgen Participants: Fletcher, Maddock, Persephone, Trixie, Lilliana, Aurora, Sinarin, Shiann, Florian Please keep the following in mind!- Posts must be a minimum of 175 words. There is no maximum!- No strict order is enforced, but there must be at least two posts between your own character's.- No god-moding or reading characters' minds (unless your pony is a literal telepath, anyway)
- Always get consent before harming another character!- Your team is precious. Try to interact with everyone. <3- Have fun! Even if your pony isn't. 8'D
Prompt: The dreams began almost as soon as the Bone Tower rose. Soon they were vivid enough to haunt your waking hours as well. Within you grew an insistent pull, an image of a grand city in ruin. The Shadow Stop. Eventually, you could not resist. The recluse tavern a few miles off of Shadow Stop is where you find yourself. You make a strange company, but many of the faces are familiar. Other than your party of dreamers, there are no other guests. You are filled with the sensation that everyone is here now - that the circle is complete. Location: Northern Sirith, near Shadow Stop Time of Day: July 10th, early evening Weather: Pleasantly warm |
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Jan 2, 2019 20:59:39 GMT -6
BIRGEN:
The tavern was a curious place, its interior dim and nigh foreboding with the stained glass windows filtering out most of the fading sunlight. Unkempt, as were its aged walls covered with various placards and worn tapestries of once brilliant colors. Underneath them, speckles of mold that probably had found its way to every nook and cranny of the building years ago. In other words, the place was a dump.
Aside from the the walls, there wasn’t much for a guest to look at after a while. A cold fireplace, some tables, as well as the sole bar counter were basically everything there was to the humble tavern. Birgen exhaled, tearing his gaze away from the dusty bottles behind the bar counter as musty air filled his lungs again. He had been exchanging idle words with the tavern keeper at the counter, but now the cultist fell quiet, turning away from the old equine. Discreetly, he leaned against the counter as he seemingly took in the view, all the while occasionally stealing quick looks at the other guests.
It was not the place itself that had drawn him there all the way from Onea, nor had it been the ruins of the ancient city either. The dreams, those grotesque visions of events gone by and the white tower rising from nothing, had been after something else. That much had become clear as more strangers had kept trickling in and with them, bringing the same odd feeling that had haunted the pale redhead’s consciousness for months. Only this time the sensation felt different, almost right.
Deep longing, that was mixed with something else.
There was a vague sense of familiarity about these strangers’ faces, too, though he could not recall meeting any of them. Not in person, that is, but how else then? An unsettling thought that got pushed out of his mind fast, even if it almost made sense to the tired disciple. His heart felt heavy with anticipation, and judging by the glances some guests had exchanged after entering the tavern, the clothed stallion wasn’t alone with this otherworldly sensation.
351 words | post 1
|
|
|
|
Post by Idiosyncrasea on Jan 3, 2019 18:29:12 GMT -6
Trixie
Trixie’s tail kept swishing apprehensively, and she kept glancing around nervously through the the gaps of her mane covering her face, her eyes darting around, and her long ears frequently swivelling. Her raven sat on her back; she periodically looked at the bird to see if she showed any sign of alarm, in case this would give her more reason to worry that there might be danger coming. But so far the raven was motionless, other than sometimes looking around, not seeming particularly fearful at the moment. What if an evil spirit, or maybe even Digend, planted the desire to go to the Shadow Stop into her mind, and possibly others’ minds, as some sort of trap? Or maybe there was a good reason…
Trixie was uneasy because of the sensation that filled her that she didn’t understand, and recognizing at least a few of the fellow equines here from the gathering that summoned Digend (or at least, probably Digend). She wondered whether or not she should flee, or if it might actually be a good thing to stay… For now she’d stay, and if a reason to try to run arose, then she’d hoped she’d be able to successfully escape.
“Um… I’m not the only one here who’s been having strange dreams lately, sometimes even while awake, am I?” she asked the others, looking around at them. “And does anyone else have a feeling like… a circle is complete…? If this really means anything, I’m not sure what exactly…”
250 words | Post 1
|
|
|
|
Post by unifangs on Jan 4, 2019 2:39:46 GMT -6
Taverns aren’t an unfamiliar or even uncomfortable setting. Maddock is at ease amidst the dim lighting and quiet evening crowds. The ramshackle shithole is endearing, but she had no come to fester amidst the darkness and mold(though she might be quite at peace with the idea). Dreams plagued her, dreams that ensnared her mind and settled there like a very small, obnoxious goblin.. That might tenderly tickle her belly when trying to focus. Maddie forces down a smile at the thought and buries her own amusement. She nervously turns her recorder over in her white teke. Darkness doesn’t unnerve her, and visions only leave her intrigued. Maddock seeks answers. There is something thrilling to the entirety of this situation. Some unknown force has laid out the puzzle pieces and its time to bring them together. After a moment, Maddock takes in her surroundings. She debates bringing her recorder to her lips, maybe make a few spare shards while she waits. But soon she catches sight of the other faces in the area, her pale eyes drawing over each of them. Hm Someone speaks and Maddock’s eyes snap right to them. Both of her ears prick forward as she listens to the mare’s voice, so brazenly discussing dreams and visions of her own. Maddock doesn’t reply, even though she feels that sense of familiarity and rightness of it all.. Maddie can’t help but draw herself closer, moving in on the others and doesn’t regard space nor norms. For once she chooses to remain quiet, to listen to what others might have to say and perhaps staring just a bit too obviously.
Post: 1 WC: 271 |
|
|
|
Post by Jennycallie on Jan 4, 2019 18:19:23 GMT -6
Florian
Vagabond Outcast
“I don’t want to go in there.” Florian had been sulky, stubborn.
“Why not?” Shiann had been weary, exasperated.
“I don’t know.” More sulkiness.
“That’s not an answer!” More exasperation.
“Yes it is, you just don’t like it.” Very sulky.
Shiann had won the argument, of course. She usually did, much to Florian’s disgruntlement. How one young child of Argus managed to continually outmaneuver them, Florian had no idea, but here they were, picking their way gingerly through the dingy tavern. They winced as their antlers scraped against a low-set beam, and had to resort to crouching in a most undignified manner to un-stick themself.
“Why are these places are never built for Kirins?” Florian complained to Shiann in an undertone, before immediately snapping their mouth shut, teeth making an audible click. That ever present weight in their gut suddenly seemed to triple in size as Florian acknowledged it, remembered it, and the Kirin stumbled, clipping a rough-hewn table with their hip. Their breathing paused, momentarily, and they had to stop, had to stand still in the tavern.
Because of course, they now knew why “these places” weren’t built to accommodate the height of magnificent antlers, or for bodies that could not burn. They knew what they had done, what their people had done. They just didn’t know why.
But did the why even matter? How could it, in the face of murder?
Subdued, Florian cast their normally lively gaze across the dim room, the meager light flashing against their rose gold scales and antlers. Florian perked up slightly to see some familar faces, but everyone looked near as weary (and as wary) as they felt… though Florian rather suspected that only they had been haunted by two sets of dreams, felt a pull to two different locations. They had resisted the first call, barely. Only Shiann had kept them sane, those first days when the memories had blazed in their mind, as sharp and unflinching as so many knives. But when the second call had come in the form of unsettling dreams, when Shiann had felt it too…
Well. Here they were.
Florian’s gaze slid to Trixie when she spoke, though the Kirin did not remember her name, only her face. She had been there that day, and apparently had been feeling the same pull, dreaming the same visions. Interesting. Silence met Trixie’s words, though the gathered equines shared shifty looks. Nobody seemed to want to agree with her, as if by acknowledging it, they made it real. Well, Florian could understand that. But this, at least, they could face.
“We feel it too,” Florian confirmed, including Shiann in their words. Perhaps they shouldn’t have spoken for her; they were trying to be more accommodating of her wishes and feelings. Then again, Shiann had made them enter this tavern in the first place, so.
Post 1 | 489 words
|
|
|
|
Post by SagaWolf on Jan 4, 2019 19:27:10 GMT -6
FletcherDisciple
Hybrid: Horse-Kirin
Fletcher was settled in a dark corner of the tavern like some old school villain because it provided visibility to most of the room and not because it made him look brooding and unapproachable...
...Okay, so it was partly because of the aesthetics that came along with the flickering shadows, and the way the smoke from his pipe curled up around his face. He liked being alone and these corner seats usually gave him all the space he wanted and if not, then a glare from his three eyes did the job, or a baring of fangs. Not that the other travelers seemed to be the sociable sorts anyway, each appearing warier than the other.
Visions which began as dreams and now assaulted him even in his waking hours had driven him from the main grouping of the Cult, abandoning their advance into Onea to follow what he only assumed was Digend’s path. His God had something special in store for him, of that he was certain, yet he spoke not a word of where he was going, not with all those new untrustworthy faces tickling into the Cult. He’d slipped off silently and followed the visions as swiftly as possible, as each one grew more and more intense.
Digend was behind it, there was no doubt in his mind. Digend who had corrupted Argus’ weak blessing and remade Fletcher in his image was now speaking to him directly. Or as directly as any entity of Chaos could.
Ears twitched as a cloaked mare broke the heavy silence, making the old Cultist huff deeply, smoke drifting from his nostrils. She had been feeling the pull too? Had seen the visions as well?
“Poppycock ” he huffed under his breath, but he couldn’t deny that, yes, a circle did seem to be completed. A kirin with impressive antlers spoke and Fletcher began to wonder if all of these equines had shared in his vision.
“I see Shadow Stop in my visions, “ he half growled from his corner, voice rough from years of tobacco and by nature’s hand too. “Grand ruins I must add. “
Word count: 351 | Post: #1
|
|
|
|
Post by Dream-Lark on Jan 4, 2019 21:39:13 GMT -6
Sinarin; Vagabond |Thief
It was a nice night.
The weather wasn’t blowing or raining, the temperature was just right, the sky was darkening as Ignacio hid his ugly mug behind the horizon, darkness creeping upward to help hide any activities about to take place.
It was the perfect sort of night to get into trouble.
And that’s exactly what one thief in particular was expecting as he sauntered toward the run down looking tavern. “Iggy’s balls, you’d think we could have been led to somewhere less...moldy. I’ve seen shacks on the Isles that were more wholesome looking,” Sinarin muttered, wrinkling his nose as he cast a glance to the petite figure sticking close to his side.
Silver eyes softened a degree, before becoming sharp again as they approached the door. They’d been having dreams, the same ones, since that Wordsmith Gathering where the Bone Tower had made an appearance. Where they’d been shown that vision, and had the reality of Digend tossed into their faces, the idea of a new god wormed into their heart.
It hadn’t wholly taken over in Sinarin’s case, thanks for Cascade actually answering a prayer for once. But still...the dreams had grown more vivid, growing so potent as to take over their waking thoughts. And then came the pull, and now…
Now here they were.
The thief tossed open the warped wooden portal, gaze raking through the interior and taking in everything he could.
“Well, well, well. Looks like the gangs all here! Hello again, my doves,” Sinarin announced with a wide grin, casting a hefty wink toward Persephone, Trixie, Lilliana, Shiann, and Florian.
“Somehow I thought I’d run into you lot again, after all that fun we had before. You few are new though. Here to share some feelings and fuzzies about the dreams you’ve been having too?” Inquiry was made with waggled brows and a light manner, having caught the voice from the figure in the shadows, surrounded by smoke, talking about the ruins he’d seen himself.
Banter was light, suggestive, obnoxious, but even so, the daggers along his chest had been loosened in their sheathes prior to entry, and he kept his own body angled between Aurora and the shadows.
WC: 367 | Post #1 |
|
|
|
Post by Chipo-H0P3 on Jan 5, 2019 1:40:06 GMT -6
  
------------------ Shiann ------------------
"The world is changing Florian. You're living proof of it! Don't you want to see it happen? Aren't you even a LITTLE curious?"
Shiann had appealed to her travel companion's innate desire for knowledge to get them to where they were. The dreams they were both having couldn't be just coincidence. She wanted to see where they lead and who was orchestrating them. Surely it was important. However, now that she was here...
Immediately after stepping into the tavern, Shiann's enthusiasm for their little side quest was extinguished. The common room was filled with other equine. Some she recognized from events that were far from happy adventures. A cloaked unicorn mare spoke up about dreams and feelings and Shiann knew instantly that they had to be the same that she had been having. That they all had to have been having. Florian acknowledged her, stating that they felt it too. Shiann looked up at them apologetically and afraid. "This may not turn out how I thought it would." She whispered.
Then her attention was drawn to a stallion's voice coming from the dark corner of the room. The sound made her bones grow cold as a winter storm in the dead of night. She recognized that voice. It was the voice of a bloodthirsty cultist but when she squinted at his form... she did not recognize the scaling or the amused eye that sat squarely in his forehead. She stepped closer into Florian's shadow, feeling a bit safer under the canopy of their antlers. Her gaze on the threatening stranger broke only momentarily so she could wrinkle her nose at Sinarin's brash behavior. (Loud one, that one was.) She was deeply confused. Was he truly the cultist she thought he was? One of monsters who had hunted her and a few other unlucky mares all those moons ago? She couldn't be sure, but the voice was dead on. Could he have changed somehow?
Shiann leaned in to whisper into Florian's ear once more, "The grey one in the back, the one with the scales, he's bad news."
P1 | WC 351
|
|
|
|
Post by moonlightwalk on Jan 5, 2019 17:35:50 GMT -6
Lilliana | hedgewitch
Lilliana hadn’t been sure what she’d find. The dreams had been there, accumelating, until she was no longer dreaming and yet the dreams were still there. It had been tempering with her performance, having gotten more than one inquisitive snort from Paco. In the end she gave up, knew she had to move and alone, in the night she set out, even her own child left in the care of her troupe.
She hadn’t known what to expect, yet she was disappointed as she was met with a simple tavern, one seemingly so barely visited that it was a wonder it existed at all. Not that she minded a mess. They were Vagabonds, their whole lives were a mess, played with at the whim of the herds. She was pleased to meet some familiar faces though, as unspectacular as the location was and her intrigue was perked as an unfamiliar one mentioned similar dreams.
”How curious,” she said, taking a moment to consider her own feelings, perhaps yes, she felt this weird feeling as well. Complete. She giggled, elated. “I guess someone has a plan for us.” She could guess who, their savior.
“Yes, yes, very impressive ruins. Now.” She waved the grey one’s need to brag away. “Let’s compare these dreams, yes?”
Post 1 | 216 words
|
|
|
|
Post by Disastercorn on Jan 6, 2019 3:32:28 GMT -6
A U R O R AFemale | Hedgewitch | Vagabond
The sleepless nights and days of travel had taxed the small mare more then she cared to admit. Luckily Sinarin had stayed with her after the last encounter, keeping her company within her safe house. It had become a constant for those escaping Aodh and looking to establish themselves with new purpose. A stop over for Rangers needing a break and those wanders injured in their travels. Sinarin was a huge help, his physique and build everything Aurora wasn't.
Though now they stood before the tavern doors and the little dove pegasus knew that this was the place before her other half opened them. A weary smile left her lips, eyes dark. She needed sleep so badly. She did not wish to see the great ruined city anymore, it melding with the way Sicily had kicked the mare into the fires that made the bone tower. Aurora shivered hard and pressed her face into the muscled shoulder of the paint beside her. He was the only thing that seemed to drive through the nightmares. Bringing her light and hope.
The conversation flew around before her, wings rustling against her sides as she tried to focus, to stay awake. When Sinarin spoke the mare let out a deep breath, liping his shoulder softly. "Not so loud sugar... Please..." The little dove spoke quietly before feeling her ears fall back at Lillianna's question. "They just need to stop..." She spoke with desperation. "I'd rather not speak of what I see... Mine have bled into something I wish I could forget..." Aurora tried to meet Lilliana's gaze, wishing with all her heart not to speak about what she dreamed of. Eyes then finally took in those gathered within the tavern and while there was a... Few she knew already, there was indeed more she had not met. Fletcher caught her attention first, the hybrid creature oozed of danger and intimidation... Aurora stepped further behind Sinarin, trying to hide herself. Gaze then turned to the pink hued unicorn? No... A Kirin who lingered to the side with another softer looking common horse... Head shook, feeling her thick colored mane shifting down her neck. Then the octopus hippocampus tucked away also drew her gaze. Another drafty build, but no ill intent seemed to come from them... At least not yet.
POST 2 | WORD COUNT 226
|
|
|
|
Post by gone-astrayy on Jan 7, 2019 1:23:26 GMT -6
Persephone | Bard
Once again, Persephone found herself in the middle of something bigger than herself. It had started with the dreams. They were minor and almost inconsequential at first. But weeks passed and the dreams grew in their power. Nightly she would dream of the same thing: a once grandiose city now lying in ruins. The images became more and more vivid with each passing night. During the day, it seemed that the dreams began to superimpose themselves on the back of her eyelids.
This wasn't just a dream, Persephone knew that. But she waited for the right moment. After all, events would unfold once everything was ready, she was sure.
Soon enough, it seemed that she was about to get her answers. Finding herself at a dingy rundown tavern, as soon as she entered the tavern, a fulfilled feeling washed over her. It was about to happen. Glancing around, she saw Shiann, beside her was the kirin she'd met at the festival three months back. Not far away she spied Lilliana and Aurora as well. There were five others, four of whom she did not recognize at all. Stepping daintily up to Shiann's free side, she smiled softly at her friend before looking around at everyone once more. It appeared they were the only ones here, and with the thrumming feeling of being complete, Persephone was sure something was soon to happen.
Word count: 231
Post: 1 |
|
|
|
Post by kruuja on Jan 8, 2019 23:06:50 GMT -6
BIRGEN “There was a tower.” The cultist’s words were raspy but gentle, his low voice carrying well in the small tavern. The dove pegasus’ whisper seems to have momentarily quieted their brash companion too, whose greeting he had merely ignored the moment before. “It pierced the sky, and a field of grass was swallowed by the dark.” The vision, as well as the dreams that had followed, were simultaneously so vivid and vague that nothing seemed to make the two fit together. Uncertain, he murmured: “Looked like the whole damn earth was about to burn away, and eat its people while at it.”Birgen had been silent, but he had listened carefully to each stranger as they had begun to voice their thoughts. Aside from Fletcher smoking in the corner, the cultist hadn't been able to recognize any of these equines, though they did seem to know each other, somewhat. The sense of familiarity persisted, and ignoring the petite dove’s earlier, shakily spoken plea, Birgen sought out the red dun pegasus’ gaze. The hint of nervousness was replaced by a weary, severe note as he continued to take heed of her inciting suggestion. “That’s when mine started anyway, these dreams.” A vision bestowed to him right outside the Point. “They never felt like such though."Judging by the faces of these strangers, some wearier than others, their rest had worn thin too. At least he knew who had led him here - after all, Fletcher's presence as a fellow Disciple confirmed the stallion's suspicions in his mind, but what did their god seek? To meet all these others, whoever they may be? Birgen, now standing straight instead of leaning against the counter, hesitated for a second. He was certain of Digend's influence over his irrational decision to come here, but bringing up the said god of Chaos didn't usually go over well with unbelievers. The good folk. As if at the risk of losing his train of thought in a second of silence, the stallion turned to look at the small, hooded unicorn who had been the first to speak. A circle was… A good way to phrase the anxiety, but something was amiss. “I ain't going to pretend that I know any better why you all are here, missus, but sure, I felt something. Saw the ruins, too”, A passive glance was shot at Fletcher between his words, but the tone didn't change. “See them still.” In return, he offered a blunt, albeit a loaded question to everyone present. Digend's name was still on his lips as he glanced around the room, but instead of revealing too much of himself, he would wait. Perhaps the leading dreams weren't the only thing they all had in common. "The whole lot of you have seen some things, haven't you. So what brings you here?" 'What', that was the key. "Doubt you simply got up one day and started dreaming of those heaps of shit and rubble. I didn't." The old tavern keeper seemed to have vanished somewhere too.
506 words | Post 2 |
|
|
|
Post by Dream-Lark on Jan 9, 2019 12:35:43 GMT -6
Sinarin;Vagabond | Thief
At the gentle touch to his shoulder, the quiet reprimand, Sinarin’s lips quirked into a small grin, but he bobbed his head faintly in a nod and quieted down several notches to better observe those around the dingy room they occupied. Aurora’s voice continued to ring gently in his ears though, and the stallion turned his head to nuzzle his cheek.
“Don’t think that’s possible, love. I’ve got a nasty feeling dealing with this, figuring it out, is the only way those dreams are gonna stop, short of drink or potions. You can do this,” the thief murmured, words pitched low for her alone.
Attention shifted toward the next equine who spoke, a common horse like himself. He appeared a similar age, with that solemn, no-nonesense type attitude. Bah. Everyone was being quiet, reclusive, not wanting to speak. It was on the tip of everyone’s tongues, but they were being guarded and careful.
Well, Sinarin was here to make sure this mess got sorted out and quickly. If things were gonna happen, then they’d better get happening, he thought to himself, adrenaline rising with a delicious rush inside him, disregarding the attempt of his lover to impulse check him. He had no qualms speaking for everyone present.
“The dreams started after that bone tower rose, the night of the Wordsmith Gathering when a bunch of hedgewitches were also attempting to summon a new god,” Sinarin announced, voice clear and carrying, gaze shifting to said hedgewitches in the room, but for Aurora.
“Everything turned to bone, and a voice spoke to us, showed us a terrible vision of a great war, and asked us to spread word of its arrival, to carry it with us. Said it was a god, most there think it was Digend, but I’m guessing you already knew that part. This whole thing has something to do with that night, and the dreams since,” the thief replied, tone actually fairly serious, an icy shiver running down his spine as he dredged up the memory of that night. He tried to repress the memory of that vision, the agony he remembered from it, the hopelessness.
The serious foothold Digend had almost claimed on his heart and soul, had Cascade not answered his prayers afterword.
WC:376 | Post #2 |
|
|
|
Post by Jennycallie on Jan 11, 2019 2:39:57 GMT -6
Florian
Vagabond Outcast
Florian’s attention had been shifting restlessly around the room, cataloguing each individual as they spoke, arrived, or otherwise drew attention to themself. It was an auspicious gathering indeed, and the energy in the room was starting to make Florian’s scales itch. They hated that. The Kirin flicked their plumed tail in absent agitation, not immediately aware of Shiann’s shift in mood. Only when the smaller horse had leaned into their shadow did Florian blink, and look down at her.
"The grey one in the back, the one with the scales, he's bad news."
Florian blinked again, their over-active mind temporarily blanking. They hadn’t heard that tone of voice out of lively, vivacious Shiann before, and certainly not in conjunction with such body language, such subdued, contained fear. Florian stared for a moment longer, then swung their entire head around in an elegant sweep of rose-gold antlers to pin the grey horse with their gaze.
Horse… with scales. Scales! But no antlers? Florian’s nostrils flared, their ears falling back at half-mast as their outrage (on behalf of Shiann) warred with their confusion (on behalf of… well, everything presently, but especially this odd non-Kirin). Well. Regardless of what the shadowed creature was, Shiann feared them. That was enough information, and their ears flattened fully.
Florian’s antlers dipped threateningly, even as they drew themself up square, tail lashing the floor of the tavern again. Their glittering eyes shifted away from Fletcher only when Birgen began to speak, and despite themself Florian found that they were drawn into the other’s words, as if entranced. The Kirin was not aware of the quiet swish of their tail, betraying their agitation as it continued to flick across the tavern floor.
Sinarin picked up the trailing thread of Birgen’s story as effortlessly as if they were a pair of dueling bards, and Florian’s gaze shifted languidly to the thief. The Kirin could still feel the anger simmering under their skin (swish, went the tail, swish, again and again) but it was if a barrier had been erected, a veil dropped. Florian could feel the anger, yes, but it did not matter, not as the talk swirled around the room and resonated somewhere within Florian’s bones.
"A voice spoke to us, showed us a terrible vision of a great war, and asked us to spread word of its arrival, to carry it with us. Said it was a god, most there think it was Digend…"
A war… a great war…
Florian felt themselves snap back into the present even as their mind splintered, shattering.
They were standing at the base of a fire, a fire fed the flesh of a mortal child of Argus and changed to bone, and a voice was sundering their very soul, visions (memories) of pain and violence flashing across their mind, all while the voice asked for belief in exchange for change, but oh-
Swish
They were crumpled on a forest floor, cheek pressed against cold dirt and eyes clenched shut against more visions, more violence and war and death, there had been so much death and yet all Florian felt in their chest was a fierce, rising joy, sickening, glorious joy as blood stained their coat and fire blazed the path before them and they were being called, called to rise again, and only Shiann’s voice cut through the firestorm, anchored them to the cold, uncaring forest-
Swish
They were standing in a dimly lit tavern, staring out around a circle of faces all reflecting the same worries, same memories, same knowledge, and permeating the air was a pervasive feeling of something, a tangible presence that crackled around all of them and set every hair on edge and-
Swish
Florian blinked, very slowly. A memory of that night (the night of the fire-turned-bone, of the first calling) crystallized, rose to the front of their mind and then, their tongue.
“If you tell my story… I will provide. I will protect you,” Florian recounted, almost hypnotically. Their voice was low, but clear, and carried across the room. “I will become anything you need… Carry me with you. I will grant your wish.”
The Kirin shook their head, startled. They had not meant to speak those remembered words; indeed, had not known how truly they even recalled them.
Dreams, it seemed, had become something of an epidemic.
Post 2 | 729 words
|
|
|
|
Post by Disastercorn on Jan 11, 2019 18:05:56 GMT -6
A U R O R AFemale | Hedgewitch | Vagabond
This was getting to be too much.
After that night Aurora had run home, as fast as she could, to escape the memories. Kaia even blessed her with a comforting and much needed gift. The small weak plant in the corner seemed to almost pet over her flank, trying to reach for her. How could she be here then? Why was this digend god so intent on having her? Tears burned at her eyes as everyone spoke. Though the small mare stiffened as the pink kirin spoke from the corner. Eyes widened, hearing, seeing, the words replay in her mind once more.
"I didn't ask for this!!" Aurora suddenly blurted out, teeth gritting. "Yes, I helped to summon this god but I... I didn't want them to take over my whole life!" Frantic eyes looked around the room. "The rest of you surely can't be ok with what this god is doing to us? What they keep manipulating and playing with? Toying with?! Aurora panted softly and realized she had gathered the whole room. With a small breath she quickly folded her wings back in and stepped back to Sinarin's side, pressing close to him once more. Head turned away, letting out a deep breath.
"Sorry I just... Actually need some real sleep..."
POST 2 | WORD COUNT 226
|
|
|
|
Post by Chipo-H0P3 on Jan 11, 2019 21:00:02 GMT -6
------------------ Shiann ------------------
Shiann met Persephone's warm smile with one of her own. Quietly, she embraced her friend, bringing her closer to her while the others continued their conversations. It was good to see the mare despite the circumstances. Though Shiann was surprised that it was just her.
She looked to the Inn's door, waiting for Rynn and Seeker to step through them. But they did not come. "The circle was complete" as one had said it. Her other friends and fellow "survivors of the weird" had lucked out this time. Seph and Florian, however, they were stuck with her.
Shiann sandwiched herself securely between her two larger silhouetted companions, using their antlers, feathers, and tentacles (wait- what? tentacles? when did that happen? Did she always have those?) to bolster her defenses against whatever was come.
The sound of Florian's close voice brought her back into the conversation. They were recalling the what had happened during the Wordsmith gathering. Florian had been so upset, even more so than her. They had seen things Shiann didn't, and were haunted by them. The dappled mare felt her heart twinge. She had dragged Florian into that adventure too.
Shiann reached for Florian's shoulder and leaned her mass into them to comfort her friend, to comfort herself, to remind them that they were in this together.
Now, more than ever, Shiann believed. Digend was real. Years of denial of the infamous sixth god, led her to this moment. Again and again, she had refused to acknowledge their existence despite the proof laid out in front of her. She couldn't believe in a god that commanded monsters, or demanded the bloodshed of innocents in exchange for gifts, nor one that seemed so delighted by toying with the lives of mortals. How could she trust such a being?
"I didn't ask for this!!"
Shiann's sympathay went out to Aurora. She shared her same worries, same terror for all the unknowns, but it was time to face the nightmare. She could not play ignorant any longer.
"D-digend brought us here, I'm sure of it." She spoke to no on in particular. "We only have to wait and see why."
P2 | WC 360
|
|
|
|
Post by moonlightwalk on Jan 12, 2019 17:35:30 GMT -6
Lilliana | Hedgewitch
Lilliana's pleasant fascination was disrupted with Aurora's plea. Her smile fell for a second. Then a bit longer as Aurora expressed her upset with these dreams. Her eyes flicked towards the others, each recounting the same thing. They started with the tower. The tower of the prophecy, white and bony it had pierced the sky. They had ask the pool. She smiled again. "I'm sorry you feel this way, Aurora. But there must be purpose here. Please be brave. There are things out there, direct threats to our health. The herds don't care for us Vagabonds. They take us prisoner, distrust us, wage wars that scorches the lands. We are only good to them when we are useful. When we abide to their will." She shook her head, sadly. Because she had always ran from the truth, but here, tired, she stood in the face of it. "This thing between Aodh and Serora, it was only the beginning. You were there and saw it. Armies and battles, the gods turning to dust. I can only guess at what this means, but now these dreams has brought us together."She tried meeting Aurora's eyes, trying to look encouraging as she cuddled into this other horse she didn't really know. "I am sorry for your suffering. But maybe we were brought here to do some good." She gestured towards Shiann. "I think we must indeed wait and see."
She echoed the others in their explanation of their dreams. When it had started, what they entailed and how she had ended up here. She let the feeling course through her. Like everything was in place, that all who needed to be were here. "Just right," she said to nobody in particular. "But just right for what?"
Post 2 | 293 words
|
|
|
|
Post by gone-astrayy on Jan 15, 2019 0:32:03 GMT -6
Persephone | Bard
Hearing her friend speak Digend's name was surprising, though not unwelcome. Shiann had long since been plagued by fear of the Cultists, of the pagan God they worshipped. Perhaps if she admitted to herself that Digend was a very real presence in the world, her fear would diminish. After all, Digend was not the great evil they had believed. What the cultists did in her name was an atrocity, there was no doubt, but Digend herself was not an evil being, not in her heart of hearts.
Persephone no longer, had indeed not harbored any fear of the young God in quite some time. If she were to pinpoint a time in which she lost her fear, it was the night they had stumbled across the hole in the ground, and spoke to the child.
"Fear will do you no good here Aurora. Digend is at the epicenter of this calling, as I am sure we have all guessed. She is not a wrathful God, nor is she bloodthirsty. She does not toy with us. We have been shown these dreams for a reason, she chose us. She will protect us in these trying times, it is not her in which your fears should be placed. Several months ago, she healed Shiann, she fed and sheltered us when it was too treacherous to be outside." Her voice was soft, but it held a conviction that could not be denied.
Word count: 239
Post: 2 |
|
|
|
Post by unifangs on Jan 15, 2019 20:32:53 GMT -6
Maddock spends most of her time listening, oddly quiet in a way so uncharacteristic to her. It doesn’t take long for them to get absorbed into the conversation as the name of Digend is mentioned. Her ears prick forward and she steps closer to the group and towards the conversation. There is mention of a bone tower, visions… Things and it seems she is not the only one who’s come to what conclusion she has. With all these mixed reactions to the god reaching out, coalescing their dreams and drawing them together in one place. Maddock draws in a breath and looks towards the mare in distress, head turning slightly. She draws in a breath and inches closer to the others, eyes resting on Aurora. “Would it be toying if it was Kaia or Argus calling to us?” Her voice is soft as she stares, almost unblinking towards Aurora. “We cannot fear change, our world is always changing.” She offers a slow smile and attempts to look comforting but it looks more like a grimace, whether she intended it to or not. “So if we embrace it, it can make the things in our dreams all the less scary.” She then glances towards the others and lets her head move into a slow nod. “Waiting is all we can do.. I’m certain things are still unveiling themselves.”
Post: 2 WC: 227 |
|
|
|
Post by Idiosyncrasea on Jan 20, 2019 17:12:01 GMT -6
Trixie listened to the others, fidgeting now and then, such as when Sinarin greeted her and four others at the same time in a seemingly rather flirtatious way, all five of them at the same time. And whenever she noticed anyone showing how unsettled they felt about the situation they’d all ended up in, making her more and more uneasy herself.
After awhile, she took a turn piping up too. “I also started getting these strange dreams right after the bone tower rose…” Trixie said. “And the image of the ruins keeps springing up in both my dreams and my waking thoughts… and… just… well, such a pull… I was a afraid of going, but some voice, seeming to maybe come from outside of me, kept pressuring me to come here, until I felt like I really had to, and grew more afraid of not coming here…”
And then when Aurora blurted out about how upset she was about what was happening, and noticing her tears, Trixie’s ears pinned back and her eyes grew even wider than they’d already been, with concern.
After watching and listening to others’ responses, she spoke up too. “To be honest, although the god we ended up summoning seemed like they were probably Digend, w-well… I’m actually not entirely sure if that really was Digend, or some other god… or maybe some sort of spirit, or even one or more mortals with powerful blessings…? I don’t know… Well… I don’t like what this entity is doing to us, either, but I’ve been hoping this won’t last forever… And I didn’t like the idea of summoning a god, even though I ended up helping too… But… I guess we just have to hope that this’ll all turn out to be for the best, if this entity really will be on our side as they said… or, um, hopefully we can find a way out of this alright enough, ehehe…”
WC: 322 | Post: 2
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Jan 20, 2019 20:58:36 GMT -6
The Ascendant The circle is complete.
Across Hireath, another soul awakens to the sensation. Shivers of anticipation run across his spine as he reaches out, forward, into the blackness of dusk. He delights in the sensation of many souls, vibrant and bright, open to his influence.
He forgoes the temptation.
The circle is complete.
He leaps across Hireath in one swell swoop.
The circle.
He feels his way. Touches on each soul, prodding. Finds the one most responsive to his caress.
A presence.
‘Let me in’ it says.
Birgen obeys.
The circle is complete.
“You are truly one of mine, and hers, Disciple”, a compliment, unheard by all but Birgen.
“I am Dalach, your Ascendant”, he goes on, words fluttering like moths. A voiceless voice, so gentle yet all consuming.
“There is a great task set ahead of you”, Dalach says, even as his mind looks for entry to the others as well.
“Tell them. Tell them I have arrived. Let the believers open their hearts to my voice”, a pause: “Digend will speak.”
|
|
|
|
Post by kruuja on Jan 20, 2019 20:58:59 GMT -6
BIRGEN A wary smile crept on the Cultist’s face as the strangers continued to share their thoughts, each delving a little bit deeper into the reasons behind their shared sleeplessness. Digend, Digend. Soon the god’s name was on their mouths, and the Disciple turned his dumbfounded gaze from the paint stallion to the kirin, his ears perking up in barely masked curiosity as Florian began to recite words void of emotion. As if invited by the words alone, Birgen stepped closer to the group. With each syllable, the kirin's words kept tugging at something at the back of his mind, but no matter how hard the stallion tried to pinpoint what this something was, no memory came forward. It soon became clear that this speech wasn't one he had heard before, but its meaning wasn't lost on him. Why though would Digend speak to equines like these? The god he had grown to worship didn't contact equines for the fun of it - especially not some unbelievers. Unless... The small pegasus' second outburst did not shook Birgen any more than last had, but this time a sympathetic glance was offered to Aurora as others chimed in to comfort the pegasus. He didn't know about the doing good part, but he did not dare to interrupt Lilliana, nor the tentacled hybrid and soon his gaze wandered off to Maddock. A fellow believer like him perhaps. Maybe they all were, for all he knew. Not part of the Cult, that much was clear from their words, but they could be. In the Disciple's eyes, it made perfect sense. Why else would he and Fletcher, already proper followers of their god, be here if not to guide these lost lambs that Digend himself had apparently accepted? The blue finned mare’s words prompted an agreeing nod from the stallion, but waiting was something he did not intend to count on. His ears flattened slightly at the cloaked unicorn's sudden doubtful words. “You've got it the wrong way round. Gods serve no one”, the Disciple murmured to Trixie before looking at each equine present. The thread tying them all together had become unmistakably clear in its form. “A wish will be granted. So you were told, and maybe the end of these dreams will be just that. Part of it, who knows, but did you heed Digend's words? Spread his gospel as he asked you to? A god presented a simple task, yet for some reason still saw fit to lead us here - to each other.”
His voice wasn't accusing, but it did waver slightly at the very end; as if called upon, a heavy feeling had settled within his mind. A presence, not unlike the curious feeling that they all had felt, and with that Birgen wordlessly welcomed it. A voice suddenly greeted him, making the stallion visibly jolt. He reflexively glanced over his shoulder, but his gaze did not meet the Ascendant's, whose voice had softly surrounded him. A foreign voice, but with such authority attached to it, that he couldn't even dream of rejecting it. Stunned but willing, Birgen swallowed quietly before quickly pulling his calm demeanor back together. Without hesitation he broke the fleeting silence again; "This... Gathering of ours is by Digend's will. That we all can see and deem as true, don't we? Whatever it is, something must've been left undone back then, but guess that's what we are here to find out. Digend answered you once before and they will do so again, if one only lets them." He paused, prompting more gently: "We call together, and we will be heard together. A god can't be commanded, but the Ascendant of Digend will be here to aid us all."
621 words | Post 3 |
|
|
|
Post by Dream-Lark on Jan 22, 2019 14:42:32 GMT -6
 Sinarin;Vagabond|Thief
Sharp gaze flickered about as everyone spoke, falling to rest upon the bard they had once been gathered around at the beginning of the Wordsmith Gathering. She and the other hedgewitch sounded so sure, so confident and optimistic that the god who had spoken to them right after an equine sacrifice could do good, be good. A deity who had a horde of bloodthirsty cultists following it.
Then again, he had heard softer stories of Digend before. That they were just a deity of luck, fortune, change. Perhaps chaotic, but really, it was all in how you looked at things.
“It’s okay, Aurora. A good dose of suspicion is always a good thing, but we’ll make it through. Like they said, I have heard some good things about this god before, and it didn’t sound bloodthirsty and raving like the cultists all lead us to believe…”
The thief’s voice trailed off as he felt...something. A shiver ran down his spine, head lifting in an alert posture, as he pressed his shoulder against his companion, protection and warning. And yet…
Silver eyes were narrowed on Birgen as he spoke, wary. “That...voice, that feeling. It’s not Digend, like we heard before. You’re saying it’s some...Ascendant that can speak for her instead?” Tone was skeptical, but clearly wanting more information before he let some blessing touch him. Answer some voice that was calling to him.
But if it was...he found himself accepting that call anyway, reaching out to hear the message.
Iggy’s balls, he was a fool and he knew it. This could be some trap by cultists, or something.
They said curiosity killed the cat, but at least satisfaction brought it back. And Sinarin was ready to pounce after that ball of yarn.
WC:295 | Post #3 |
|
|
|
Post by SagaWolf on Jan 23, 2019 10:47:15 GMT -6
FletcherDisciple
Hybrid: Horse-Kirin
As Sinarin strolled through the door like he owned the place he made is wonderfully clear to Fletcher that several of these strangers already knew each other and that they were, perhaps, all friends. A very crucial piece of information indeed. Fletcher wasn’t blind to how this newcomer casually placed himself in front of the pale pastel pegasus, but his expression betrayed nothing as he sat about emptying out his pipe and refilling it.
Shiann’s look of horror had been noticed too and it felt like something far too deep to be born from Fletcher's curious appearance alone. No, he was almost certain he’d seen recognization in her expression just briefly, and as he stuffed tobacco and listened to them all speak, he tried to figure out where this mare fit into everything. There were so many options and despite his careful ways of hiding and manipulating his appearance, someone was bound to have seen him as a cultist in action. Was she perhaps one of the lucky ones who could stay ahead of Digend’s bride and live another day? Possible. It was also entirely possible that he had scammed her in the past or ruined her life in one way or another.
He had to play his cards carefully.
The brash one, Sinarin, surprised Fletcher by being the first to actually say the name Digend, and the hybrid snorted and laughed darkly as if that was the most ridiculous thing he’d heard all year. He had his pipe fired up again, puffing away until it smoldered perfectly and he could add more smoke to the room. “Tried summoning a God, “ he rumbled low, shaking his head in disbelief. Ah, but he did believe. Fletcher’s scales rattled softly as he shifted his weight, all of his attention hooked to the words spoken.
He let the rest of them chatter away, nodding along Birgen’s words towards the end, although his brow did furrow when the other disciple decided to add the Ascendant’s title to the conversation. Was he absolutely mad? This was not the right company to be so open with! And then he felt it, the briefest flutter of something and he thought he recognized it.
Fletcher accepted the presence, the sensation the whatever-you-wanted-to-call-it. He opened himself up, invited it inside without a shred of doubt that this was Digend. Channeled through the Ascendant didn’t make it any less so. Green eyes settled on Sinarin at his question and the old cultist removed his pipe.
“The Ascendant has always spoken Digend’s words and his will, “ he said. “And if you accept the calling you will hear it too. “
Word count: 438 | Post: #2
|
|
|
|
Post by Idiosyncrasea on Jan 26, 2019 15:12:41 GMT -6
Trixie | Hedgewitch
Trixie felt a voice trying to find a way into her mind; she couldn’t tell whether or not it was from someone in the room, or anywhere else nearby, or from someone very far away… but still, curious, she let the voice in. And then she started shaking, her heartbeat and breathing quickening.
She heard a stallion murmur to her, telling her that she was wrong, that gods served no one, and then she listened on as he addressed everyone else in the room. And by the time he’d finished speaking, she started shaking harder. And even harder after listening to some of the others converse. This Ascendant, whoever they were exactly, had supposedly always spoken Digend’s words and will? Was this true, or not? Could someone in the room who didn’t entirely believe in Digend and this Ascendant, such as Trixie herself, still hear what was said as much as those who fully believed? If she tried, would something bad happen to her, like being smited in some way by the Ascendant, or Digend themself, or someone in the room? She was torn between wanting to flee from this place, and wanting to stay and try to listen out of curiosity.
But as Sinarin pointed out to Aurora, it was true that some good things had been said about Digend, so if Digend was real, perhaps they weren’t actually evil… Trixie didn’t know what to believe. She was on the fence about whether or not to believe that any of them had ever actually heard from Digend or if all those times had been someone else, and whether or not to believe in Digend existing at all. She was still biased against Digend and afraid of believing in them, she supposed.
“Th-this Ascendent… um… who are they? A cultist…?” she asked, trying to sound at least half calm. “And… um… just because I feel unsure about whether or not I’ve actually heard from Digend or from someone else, doesn’t mean I don’t believe in Digend’s existence…” She hoped that it wasn’t too obvious that that was at least half a lie. “I… still told many about the vision I’d been shown that might’ve been Digend’s birth, shown maybe by Digend themself, and that it might be a good thing for more folks to spread word of this…
Post: 3 | WC: 388
|
|
|
|
Post by Jennycallie on Jan 28, 2019 17:32:19 GMT -6
Florian
Vagabond Outcast
Shiann’s wordless gesture (and the warmth of her smaller frame) helped anchor Florian, steadying their breathing and heartbeats. The Kirin felt some small measure of normalcy return (as much as it could, given the surroundings and conversation) and they returned their gaze to Fletcher. The strange stallion had done no more than cast a mild look Shiann’s way, but in the tense atmosphere and close quarters of the tavern, things could get complicated quickly, and Florian didn’t plan on being caught off guard.
So the Kirin kept a steady eye on Fletcher, while their ears twitched, keeping tabs of the swirling, tense conversation that was veering rapidly into the realm of unsettling. Birgen had been much of a non-entity to Florian’s attention, but at the roan’s words, Florian finally looked away from Fletcher to pin Birgen with a bright, narrowed gaze.
“An Ascendant?” they said, sharply. Florian cast their mind back, trying to remember if the rank was something that they should remember, or had recently remembered. They came up blank, though that didn’t prove anything. This situation was feeling more weighted by the moment, and Florian felt as if their hair might soon be standing on end. Their scales were certainly still itching, and a pressure in their skull had been slowly building.
“I do not think blindly placing our lives into the care of a… god,” Florian said slowly, hesitating over the moniker, “is a wise choice.” They swished their tail again, feeling a battle ignite inside of them. Their gut said absolutely not, this is foolish, remember what happened last time, remember what happened with the last god- in other words, a cautious litany, against hasty actions that could have… terrible, consequences. On the other hoof, Florian’s mind clamored for more information, more knowledge, more… experience, in this strange new world. A part of them was intrigued (excited, even, though they did not acknowledge this) at the novelty of the scenario, of the newness.
Would ignorance protect them, would knowledge condemn them?
“I will not be blind,” Florian said quietly. “I will listen.”
Knowledge over ignorance, any day.
Post 3 | 359 words
|
|
|
|
Post by unifangs on Jan 28, 2019 22:20:38 GMT -6
Maddock is almost lost until she hears that name, her name. Both of her ears are drawn forward and she listens to the stranger talk, talk of her god and she can only feel questions gurgling to the surface. It takes near every fiber of self control she has to keep her silence, to now throw herself at the cultist and drag out every answer he might be willing to offer. Maddock draws in a breath and listens to the others express their skepticism. Each of their owns feelings might be justified but Maddock is too impulsive to lose a chance to listen, to know after how ever long she’s been searching. Maddock inches closer and waits until the others have spoken before they nod. “I want to hear what this.. Ascendant has to say,” her eyes are wide, the gate to her mind all the more wide. The tentacles behind her ear twitch and she waits to experience more than just a feeling, opening herself to whatever outside influence might be lingering here in this place. WC: 177 Post: 3 |
|
|
|
Post by moonlightwalk on Jan 29, 2019 16:52:44 GMT -6
Lilliana | Hedgewitch
Lilliana wondered what an ascendant is, still pondering Birgen’s words. She does not know and perhaps not care. If they speak Digen’s will, it can’t be that bad. She hears the others voice concerns, but listen-. She feels the brush and hears nothing. She is intruiged, nodding at Florian’s last words, the previous ones already forgotten.
“What does it hurt to listen?” She said naively, not considering that would mean allowing one into her mind. A mind already fragile and now muddled with sleep. Her body had taken the brunt of these dreams, ribs showing and eyes lying deep on their sockets, pale and bruised. still she refused to be anything be anything but optimistic. If any god meant harm, they would be long dead. Gods were all powerfull. She believed Shiann and Persephone. Perhaps desperatly wanted to believe that Digend was good. And so she accepted this ascendant to tell them what there was to share.
“I listen,” she thought. “I accept.” Mind greedy and wild and questioning, because as much as she liked mystery, she even more liked getting answers. Who, after weeks of questioning, this ascendant was apperently willing to give.
Post 3 | 194 words
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Jan 30, 2019 15:48:19 GMT -6
“My friends”, Dalach’s voice is friendly, soft. As you first let him in, it is just that, a mere voice. But more hearts join in, and it becomes more than that. A tall unicorn shimmers in the middle of the room, seen only by those who are brave enough to listen.
Dalach smiles.
“It is good that you have come. This is not where I intended you to meet, but it will do just as well”, Dalach speaks, eyeing each of the listeners in turn. It is as if he is present but touching the shape would yield but air.
“When Digend rose in the spring; when she showed you what once was; and asked you to take her with you in your hearts, she promised you safety”, he says, each of his words precise. The wings of a moth rise from his body, and suddenly you feel Her. A presence so powerful, so tangible, it is as if Digend is in the room with you.
Then, she is. You feel the pull of a god, a god born from the failures of other gods.
The ungod.
Digend.
In a crack of the fireplace, the feeling is gone.
“I have come to deliver on this promise”, Dalach goes on, wingless once more.
“But I have also come to call you to service”, the Ascendant smiles slightly.
“Who among you will take on the mission of Digend? Who here will help her cast aside the gods who time and time again fail you; for whom your suffering and heartache are but dust among the stars?”, his voice grows into an unnatural boom. The presence of the ungod is tangible yet again.
“Who will be Her Missionary?”
A character will only see and hear Dalach by accepting his call. They can let him in at any point or choose to shut him out, but won't hear previously said things if they jump in late / will lose contact by shutting the connection. If you did not get a chance to post between Dalach's posts, you can still react to his previous posts and don't have to miss out! It is a player choice at which point your character joins in etc |
|
|
|
Post by Idiosyncrasea on Feb 2, 2019 21:06:19 GMT -6
Trixie | Hedgewitch
Trixie kept shaking as she listened, her heart still racing, lungs still heaving. And then when she saw the vision of Digend, and momentarily felt the ungod’s presence, she gasped sharply and shook harder than ever. Then for several seconds she just gasped in air for a few long moments, before she spoke up.
“B-but the other gods haven’t failed us entirely, have they…?! Surely not… I mean, not long after the white tower rose, Kaia answered my prayers for a helpful blessing… We can’t really be nothing to the gods, when they still give us blessings… What does casting them aside even mean?! What are these missions?! I don’t know if I’d be more scared of doing these missions, or of not doing them, though…”
Just admitting that last line struck her with a stab of guilt, as if just saying that, or even just thinking that, was betraying the gods she’d been praying to for so many years.
Then, after a pause, she added: “Y-you, ascendant… I bet you really are some sort of cultist, aren’t you?!”
WC: 179 | Post: 4
|
|
