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Post by ThatDenver on Feb 13, 2019 16:59:13 GMT -6
EMELIÉ
She heard someone speak behind her – the sound was from behind her, so distinguishing the speaker was difficult. She agreed with the message of not splitting up, but when a second voice joined in, one that was Gidal, she just nodded and smiled to herself, even if she knew perfectly well that no one could see her expression in the thick fog.
Whatever they were chasing, she, or it, was fast. Without the hoofbeats she wouldn’t have thought it real at all, but there they were. With surety and the grace of a gazelle, it seemed, they were being led through the forest and the fog, towards and unknown destination.
Her heart beat with fearful excitement. She wanted it to be something good. Something worth chasing.
She wouldn’t even say no to a fight. Anything to break the dull pessimism of their daily lives would be welcome. She was tired of being tired. Tired of being cold and aimless.
Synn grew her pace, and so did Emelié, in a bid to stay alongside her fellow Scout. Her breath came in harsh huffs and she extended her steps as much as she could. She never had the longest legs.
“Nerys?”, she called, glancing behind her. Finding the familiar form, she smiled briefly even as she had to race to not lose Synn and their quarry in the fog.
Word count: 227
Post #5
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Post by manabuns on Feb 17, 2019 13:35:42 GMT -6
give me time and give me space
There's something decidedly terrifying, about having your own voice speak to you, followed by all those you hold dear.
Mouths don't move, but the fog speaks for them instead, and for the first time in a long while. A chill settles on Iskalder's spine. The sort that threatens anchors and fathoms.
It's the shape within the swirling mist, however, that turns that ice into fire. Fire that sparks and consumes. Whatever it was, whatever had the sheer audacity to take the face of someone he knew.
He's hot at the back of Synn's heels, wheeling after the Scout. Some small part of him knows it's a bad idea, to simply trudge into the unknown forest. But he must know, he must find out who or what it is playing their already frayed heartstrings. Plucking at them in their barely admitted defeat. "Do not let them escape!" Is his growled bellow.
Like ragged claws, his blessing scopes across the veiled ground, searching and scrutinizing until it finds bones. It costs effort, his blessing still new and untested. Enough effort that a singlue rivulet of red runs from his nostrils as finally, the skeletons break free of the earth and stride unnaturally at his side.
Post 4 | Wordcount 203 |
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Post by Deleted on Feb 17, 2019 20:24:34 GMT -6
You follow the ghostly figure - she flickers between clouds of fog, and it is her hoofbeats that convince you of her realness, not her body as such.
The run is long. When you tire, she slows down. She keeps leading you on, miraculously, keeping you from any danger. You don’t cross the path of a single soul, equine or predator, on your journey.
Finally, she draws further away, increases speed to an impossible decree. Her hooves can still be heard on the ground.
You continue in your pursuit.
In the distance, you hear words.
Then, as you step out of the fog and onto a campsite, you see those who left you during that fateful day in Ghosthold.
You have found Vidar’s crew.
Congratulations!
You have completed the plot 706: Adrift!
Stay tuned for a post-chapter mini event.
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Post by Jennycallie on Feb 20, 2019 14:15:53 GMT -6
PLOT COMPLETE
20 AP and 20 CS to everyone!
Stay tuned for the wrap-up journal and mini-event! |
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