Fantasy 𝚆𝚎 𝙰𝚛𝚎 𝚊 𝙱𝚛𝚞𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚍 | nıɐɯ

[Pretzel Heart]

♡ The Empress ♡​

Silque

Location: ???

Mood: Like babes

Interacts: A sea of unease and white

Mentions: Quill, Luca, Rowan, Puck, Chubs, Snake, Belladonna, Will, Mono

The hopeful expression that had been blossoming across her face shriveled into a confused pout. The man she woke did not know her. And yet...she was sure. Something about him, no, many things about him, were familiar. As he sat up she peered deeper into his smooth face before glancing back at the others around them. Back and forth. There was definitely something...different between this man and the others. Something which she had seen reflected back through the tiny pocket mirror.

He said he did not know her...but wasn't it possible they did know each other and he had just forgotten? By that logic, maybe everyone there, in that clearing, was connected by their pasts. The familiarity of the Emperor's movements. The echo of the face she had seen behind Rowan's eyes. Maybe these visions were more than mere phantoms of her former self.

Maybe that was why she felt so strongly that they needed to stay together. Be one another's support.

As if on cue, at these thoughts a man with dark-green hair brought the familiar-looking robed man to his feet. The topic of conversation the same as usual. We're strangers lost in a forest without memories. That fog is steadily closing in. At least, judging from the various responses, she wasn't alone in the sense of...unease it gave her. She smiled at Chubs' polite address, thankful for his input. Even the man who had originally argued with her, the one who was now calling himself Snake, seemed moved enough by the urgency of the situation to help the last of the sleeping strangers to his feet...albeit in a fashion a bit more forcefully than she would have used herself. And...looked like he was getting his comeuppance for it.

And as they spoke the fog continued to circle. Like the body of some gigantic serpent slowly constricting around clueless prey who had only words to guide them. Words words words, something...no...someone...had told her they held power, once. She couldn't say who or when, or even the most basic of context. But that sentiment remained. Words...vessels of power...... Well, perhaps. But in this instance, at least, that felt far from the case. They could talk forever but ultimately the outcome would remain the same. The fog would either engulf them or let them go. They were but humans, after all, lacking in memory, lacking in the exposure that makes one knowledgeable to the ways of the world.

Almost like...

babes

She was beginning to feel sick.

And then the man who had called her— who had said that word which she should not know, plunged headfirst into the smoky abyss. Infinite white arms reaching out in tendrils of mist that swallowed him whole.

For a moment Silque could only stare in shock. As everyone was discussing how to avoid the thing, this man, Will, had casually surrendered himself to the unknown. Without leaving behind so much as a phrase of motivation behind him. And in the place where he once stood... nothing.

Just beautiful, hazy white.

Was he okay? Should they go get him? No one made a move, other than a crude remark from the one calling himself Mono. Right before he affirmed what was likely already in everyone else's thoughts.

"Don't go into that fog."

But Will was in there, and he was all alone... Wasn't that... sad? She knew that this Silque and that Will had only just met, and that he had brusquely turned away from her attempt at reconciliation. The look on his face implying that he was against even doing that much. But even so, that didn't mean that he deserved to be alone......

"...Might not even be fog. Maybe some kind of chemical... doesn't matter. We have to get out of this clearing."

Silque finally stood, casting desperately about them. Even if the advice was sound, what exactly did he propose? They were completely surrounded, the small island of grass growing smaller and smaller as it was swallowed by that sea of pale, blank white.

She closed her eyes, the sick feeling starting to grow overbearing. She didn’t want to think about it. She didn’t want to look—

And then, from somewhere deep inside the belly of that fog, she heard a cry.

What?

She was frozen, like an insect stabbed by a needle, staring at the place from which the sound came.

“Mr. Will, is that you?”

Her own voice was quiet, uneven. Scared. At this point there was maybe no more than 5 feet between the circle where the strangers gathered and that wall of white. She cautiously, carefully, crept closer to its edge.

“Are you alright!?” She managed to annunciate into the void.

But there was no response.

For a moment she thought she had just imagined it. A trick of her battered, possibly, as the others had suggested, chemically-altered mind. After all, there was no way that that could be in the middle of a forest…right?

But couldn’t that be said of everything else she had found that day?

This person…this [ Silque ]…wasn’t she, as much as anything, something that did not belong?

And then she heard it again. This time definite. Clear. Distant. Wailing.

“Excuse me but, did anyone else hear that?”

With a frantic dance in her eyes she whirled back towards the group. They had not. Or, if they did, the thing they had heard was not the same, though she would have no way of knowing.

Waaa Waaa

The sound repeated as if staking its claim and this time it did not stop. A low, perpetual hum against the fog that set a chill seeping through her skin.

It was a child. No…a……baby.

Even during the short time she had stood in front of it the fog advanced a few centimeters more. As its cool arms brushed her face she suddenly registered the danger, instinctively taking a step back. It was as though her very atoms were repelling whatever was inside that white. Maybe it was some chemical. She felt like she was going to be sick—

Waaa Waaa

“Guys…we can’t…we have to……”

She was mumbling to herself, hands she couldn't stop from shaking creeping up over her ears. It was a child, a poor defenseless baby out in the middle of the woods. They needed help. Her help. And yet something, something furrowed in a deep deep rotten place

Was repulsed.

WAAA WAAA

“STOP!” She finally shouted, for the first time that evening raising her voice above the softest calm. Her hands dug through her hair, entwining themselves in that wavering silk. Reminding Reminding Reminding She shook her head, nearly on the verge of tears. And from what? What? What? What was the Silque from the past trying to tell her!? Was Mono right, and these were just chemicals messing with her mind? Or

WAAA WAAA

She opened her eyes, red irises bravely widened towards the white. Whatever was surrounding them was growing closer. Maybe there was no escape. Maybe there was nothing to fear. But there was a child in need. And she knew what she had to do.

And so Silque became the second to disappear into the fog.

 

[Pretzel Heart]

[class=animation] display: inline; animation:{post_id}flicker 6s linear infinite; animation-direction: reverse; [/class] [animation=flicker] [keyframe=1]opacity:1[/keyframe] [keyframe=25]opacity:0[/keyframe] [keyframe=34]opacity:0[/keyframe] [keyframe=35]opacity:1[/keyframe] [keyframe=39]opacity:0.25[/keyframe] [keyframe=40]opacity:0.75[/keyframe] [keyframe=59]opacity:0[/keyframe] [keyframe=60]opacity:1[/keyframe] keyframe=74]opacity:0[/keyframe] keyframe=75]opacity:1[/keyframe] [keyframe=100]opacity:1[/keyframe] [/animation]

[div class=animation]Fear comes from that which we do not understand.

The Text Contains a Key
[/div]

[ Hour: 0 ]
​

[class name=scontainer] display: flex; justify-content: center; [/class] [class name=sbuttoncontainer] display: inline-block; margin: 0px 10px; height: 40px; width: 40px; font-size: 0px; position: relative; overflow: hidden; display: inline-block; border-radius: 50%; border: 0px solid #000000; overflow: hidden; transform: perspective(0); [/class] [class name=sbuttonfilter] position: absolute; overflow: hidden; position: relative; top: -11px; left: -10px; width: 130px; height: 100px; [/class] [class name=sbtnone] filter: hue-rotate(-25deg) contrast(80%) brightness(75%) saturate(100%); [/class][div class="scontainer"]

The woman in white left behind her a shocked and silent crowd. They had not heard the crying. They had no context for her strange reaction. If anything, they had just observed someone having a mental breakdown before plunging into likely death. But even if this conclusion was a rational one, and one, even more rationally, they might seek to avoid, soon they would have no choice but to follow her into that madness and abyss.

The forest's trees had long been lost to a milky sea, its waves calm and inviting in stark contrast to the feelings of discomfort carried upon its ominously rising tides. The breeze that had died to those in the circle seemed to move still through it as if emanating from some secret being pulling all around into a gentle dream, slowly wafting it closer and closer. But only nightmares would be found within and besides, the strangers had spent enough time in Nod's land.

The circle around them was 5 feet. And then 4 feet. And then 3.

It soon became very obvious that, like it or not, however, to challenge that sea was futility.

In the end, everyone [ sleeps. ]

There are those who avoid their fate. Perhaps they’re able to procrastinate on that thing called [ destiny ]. Just a handful of years, a single day. Human history (which has been long to humans only) has often stuttered around this idea. Even thousands of years ago, before mankind had enough concept of the world to begin to examine experience at all, let alone as a linear progression from which they cannot deviate, and thousands of years after, when history as it was generated was already near indistinguishable from legend. Such as that day the great warrior Achilles struck upon the thought that as long as he never fought Hector he could never die. Was he right? Correlation is not causality and all that, so perhaps we will never know. Besides it doesn't matter. Even though he was only half mortal, grief still got him in the end. Because obviously once there's nothing left to live for, there's no reason why you should continue to live. Perhaps that is why, thousands of years later, while men were still writing about Achilles, another who was far from a hero said that the whole of sanity, the whole of happiness, revolves around simple imagining. There is no way to escape the inevitable, but perhaps we can lengthen it. Or at least change our perception to distract us from the end. And they were right. In a way all life is merely postponing the fate the fact of existence itself has imposed upon it. Like Achilles. Choosing eternal war over fear of death. Isn't it a cruel world? Whose Natural Laws can be so nonsensical?

But I digress.
After all, that's not what you came here for, is it?

What I mean to say is

You, too, have no need to follow those who had willingly surrendered themselves to the fog. You need not fight. You need not do anything. In the end, the fog will find you. A misty white visitor. A luscious white sea. Maybe that phrasing reminds you of something. Maybe something perverse. But nature is full of things we don't understand. Including ourselves. And eventually that fog will choke you until you drown.

But perhaps you are one of those souls society has labeled as [ brave ]. Willingly following the footsteps of that foolish Will and Silque before. The first group is interesting in their own right, but it's this second with which I have an undoubted fascination. What drives you? What drives you? What drives you? I'm sure I know the answer, but I can't stop thinking about it nonetheless. Sometimes I repeat it so frequently that I begin to suspect the question has lost all meaning. Like running through a forest blind. It's beautiful, right? I've cycled us back through the perfect metaphor. Running around and around. Cycling cycling Cycling

The moment the fog permeates your skin you realize all these horrible things. Those thoughts which keep you up at night, which strike you right as you drift between one realm of consciousness to the next. Or in those moments of silence when you stare off vacantly into some unknown corner of your room. Because I know I'm not the only one with questions. And even if you've never wondered before, you feel it now. A longing for knowledge so terrible that it almost takes your breath away and you fall to the forest floor. But come on, you can't just lie there. Because there is something coming for you~ . . .Yes, you are certain. In this fog you are not alone. And that other thing— no no, it's not either of the strangers who went before. Nor anyone else from that now familiar clearing. This is something which you have never encountered, and yet, to some dirty place that you'd rather hide, it's actually kind of familiar, isn't it? Something that knows you better than you know yourself. Because unlike you, it has no reason to hide. And it has been said, to some ill effects, that man without reason is little more than a [ Beast. ] But don't be afraid. Or rather be very, very afraid. Because inside this fog is a universe. Where you and this Thing are all alone.

Now show me.
Do you succumb?
Or do you finally listen to the screams your brain has been, all the while you've been wasting reading this, hammering against your skull?

and

Run.

[div class="sbuttoncontainer"][div class="sbuttonfilter sbtnone"]

She stumbles blindly through what she can only imagine is still the forest. Her sandaled feet pound in syncopated rhythm against a fleshy ground of earth and moss that seems to signify a forest but it's one she cannot see, or only passes by in the shortest of snapshots. Trees and bushes and vines come into view only when they are inches away, disappearing just as soon after. Otherwise it's only white. Will! Are you out there? She cries, turning this way and that with the same frantic beating of her palpitating heart. She continues to shout Will! Will! Will! Even though it's hard for her to pronounce. Because she is looking for the child but cannot fathom what one calls out to a baby to let them know they are not alone.

The wailing continues, but its source of origin has long become indistinguishable from the fog. Maybe it is the fog itself, ringing out all around her first ear-splittingly loud, and then miles off. Where are you!? I-I'll come find you! She has nothing else to cling onto, so she uses that goal as a lifeline to pull her forward as she continues to run. Tears are now freely streaming down her face though she has no idea why. Only that her body has become a conduit for a new and strange type of feeling created through the friction of rubbing hatred against fear.

For this fog is a puzzle. And we fear that which we do not understand.

You want to stop but a primal desire has taken over, pushing you on. You want to scream and maybe you do, but at the cost of precious breath that even your floundering lungs cannot pull quickly enough into your chest. What are you running away from? Or are you running away from anything at all? But even as these thoughts enter your head you hear it again, faint lullabies on the wind, shadows that you cannot comprehend. To one a baby crying. To another the creaking of wheels. A cruel laugh. The splash of water you cannot see. Sometimes it's a voice you recognize. But not one you want to hear. Did you know that words are tiny vessels of power? Each one of these characters is a spell, and in the right combination I can make an entire theater my captive. You have it, too. Your voice is a power. After Chiaki I...never thought I would want anyone else to say these spells. But then you... You keep running, driven on by the fear that is so ubiquitous that you'd think, by now, it would become bearable. You would think. The unknown path is impossible to tread carefully and you trip, rocks digging themselves into blood muddied by dirt. But each time you stand and you keep on running. No direction but [ away. ] Further and further into the white. You can only hope that the others have also made it through. Or perhaps you're the type not to care.

She no longer knows if the baby is what she's truly looking for. Because every time it seems close by her body twists in another direction. Wheezing breaths. Quickened steps. Is she running towards it or away? In the end it doesn't really matter. Only that she must continue to run.

Stop to catch your breath and it may find you. Hurt yourself beyond the ability to run and it will bear you down. You have become adrenaline's pitiful slave, licking its feet in the distant hope that it will allow you to keep moving forward just long enough. But how long is enough? Each tree you pass seems identical to the one before. As if you are wriggling through a plain of them so vast that, though it is not infinite, it may as well be for death will find you long before you ever find its end. And the white. This…this endless white. Could you possibly be this far from civilization? Does civilization even exist? Or is this nightmare the only true reality? You have been running around in circles for all you know.

What is a newborn, anyway? If you describe it and then strip away certain details, it can become something quite monstrous. A being that cries and screams and demands attention. And yet we love it, regardless. Or at least, we're supposed to.

And then, just ahead, after what feels like days without water, food, or rest, you begin to see something take shape through the fog. Trees slowly come into view more than mere seconds before you pass them. If you chance a glance upwards you can almost begin to see a color other than white. A deep, black void you know as the nighttime sky.

With one more breath you push onwards, clinging onto that final hope, that maybe, just maybe, you are almost free. And the vision of the fog— at last! Begins to fade.

Another minute and it is gone.

You fall to the floor once more, exhaustion finally taking over. Like a fish flung onto dry land you gasp and gasp and gasp half drunk on the pride of victory and half fearful that the battle isn't truly won. The paranoia that there is something there hasn't really left. Though even after you madly turn around you find nothing but trees.

It’s as if there was never any white there to begin with.

And before you…

[/div]

cinnabuns @Lettuce izayoiix BluEndings @OrWangatan Hextremus @hosaki FoldedPages Beleth
The time has come. It's time to [ r u n ]​

[/div][/div]

 

[Pretzel Heart]

G r o u p Α

02 - The High Priestess [ Belladonna ]
03 - The Empress [ Silque ]
06 - The Lovers [ Love ]
11 - Strength [ Airi ]
14 - Temperance [ Sin ]
16 - The Tower [ Cross ]
17 - The Star [ Chubs ]
18 - The Moon [ Wolfe ]
19 - The Sun [ Sol ]
20 - Judgement [ Oriole ]

The Village with a Festival

[ Hour: 1 ]
​

[class name=scontainer] display: flex; justify-content: center; [/class] [class name=sbuttoncontainer] display: inline-block; margin: 0px 10px; height: 40px; width: 40px; font-size: 0px; position: relative; overflow: hidden; display: inline-block; border-radius: 50%; border: 0px solid #000000; overflow: hidden; transform: perspective(0); [/class] [class name=sbuttonfilter] position: absolute; overflow: hidden; position: relative; top: -11px; left: -10px; width: 130px; height: 100px; [/class] [class name=sbtnone] filter: hue-rotate(-313deg) contrast(35%) brightness(150%) saturate(100%); [/class][div class="scontainer"]

[div class="sbuttoncontainer"][div class="sbuttonfilter sbtnone"]

...Is a field full of blooms of light, dancing and flickering in the cool night breeze. Upon closer inspection, however, you realize that this is merely an illusion created by a grand village built beneath the earth.

Before you investigate further, however, you take a moment to look around, partly still held by the fog's cloudy daze. For the first time you notice that you are not alone, though it is not some terrifying thing that is chasing you. It is others from the clearing, spilling out from the forest with the same haggard, desperate look in their eyes. You frantically count their number, trying to remember the briefly uttered introductions from those now precious moments after waking up, soon realizing that your group has been cut in half. Perhaps the survivors take a moment to discuss it. Or maybe...it's better not to talk, putting the past of that wild run into a memory that you'll hopefully forget.

You wait a bit longer, expectant, staring at the staggered line of trees. Waiting for the others to appear. But they never do. You have no idea if they were lost to the fog, if they simply ended up someplace else, or if they even ran at all. But it becomes clear that they aren't coming. And your only options are to go back, or to move forward. The woman in white is one among you, and in a voice returned to its usual calm- though still traced by the faintest edge of the disturbed- claims that she's pretty good with directions, actually, though even she's not sure if she could lead you back to where this all began. For now, forward seems like the better option. And hopefully the rest will catch up later. Hopefully they are all okay...

In truth the village in built against the slope of a steep crater, its sides cut into crisp terraces that house all manner of buildings and light. Though it is some distance away, on the opposite side of the opening you can see the unmistakable outline of some giant tree, larger than any you have ever (well, at least you think you've ever) seen. And as you approach closer to the crater's rim you hear the steady rush of water and...something else. Something almost unnerving in its cheerful contrast to the dreariness of the night so far. It's...music. Upbeat, mystical, and emanating from down below.

The entire perimeter is lined by a medium-sized wall ornamented in murals both picturesque and dark. The only opening, it seems, is through a grand archway that holds a stairway decorated in slickly tiled blue. As you pass through the arches you may admire the intricate detailing, as it is covered from top to bottom in thousands of pieces of polished stone and glass depicting great scenes which you do not understand. Dolphins, fish, creatures which you cannot name. Crashing waves giving rise to beautiful beings. Majestic palaces in an azure abyss. Knights with bows and spears in colorful robes and armor. Your eyes are explicitly drawn to one image in particular, giant and floating on the open door of the gate, seeming almost to welcome you with a peaceful gaze and open arms. Their robes fluttering with thousands of shells, skin entirely made of pearl.

"It's like a Shinto Shrine." A voice whispers behind you and you turn to see the woman in white, an unreadable expression on her face. If you press her you find that she cannot further contextualize, doesn't even know what Shinto is, what a shrine even is, only that something about the architecture on display reminds her of such. That unreadable expression seems to deepen as you pester her, and you decide not to ask anything else.

As you descend the staircase the full majesty of a village in celebration opens up before you. The field of light you thought you had observed unfurls into a full spectacle of color and joy. There are paper decorations and lanterns swaying in the air, each waft of breeze carrying with it sounds of laughter and that ever-present song. Walking down you can observe various stratos of village life, as each carved terrace is stacked with wood and ceramic buildings of varying quality. The grandest, on the top row, seems to be the most magnificent, glittering in silver and jewels, though even the less refined fronts they overlook do not fail to luster. And through this entire paradise is that ringing chant and a gentle river's murmur. The latter, at least, has an apparent source from a waterfall lining the crater's side to your left, expertly managed through a series of wheels, damns, and levees carefully escorting what must be a sizable river through elegant streams around the entire town. And the music...

It comes from a circle at the crater's core, lined by a swirling stream peppered with floating lanterns and strangely-shaped boats. There is undoubtedly some kind of event going on here, as there are countless lines of makeshift stages and stalls. The music flows as ubiquitous as the river water around you from one of these, set at a great height overlooking the marketplace, upon which a drum is beat and a circle of performers holding small bell-instruments chant. It seems as if you could buy any assortment of goods if you had the currency to do so. Though there are other ways to get what you want. Food fried and baked and skewered and boxed. Little toys and masks and other nicknacks. Some stalls even have games such as catching crickets or tiny fish. "It's a festival." Silque breathes, her eyes wide with either fear or delight.

You, have, of course, begun to encounter other people as you descend. Or at least, what you think are people, as on top of their unusual way of dressing in vibrantly patterned robes, reminiscent of that man named Quill who is not here, each one is wearing a type of mask. Some are evil and gruesome, others humorous. Some pale white. Reminding you of things you'd rather not revisit. Most common of all though is a mask that looks more like a simple piece of cloth tied on with string. Decorated with large characters stroked in black. The only thing all these have in common is that they cover the eyes, and yet the villagers seem to move about freely. You may try to talk to them, to ask them where you are or what is going on. They will not answer. In fact they seem to try and avoid you as much as they can. As if you are an invisible rock parting a rushing stream. You can not tell what, if any, types of looks they give you, but their body language is always pulling away. And when you pass or turn your head you can almost feel them still watching. Pointing. With faint whispers on the wind.

MindThe

[/div]


[/div][/div]

 

[Pretzel Heart]

G r o u p Ω

01 - The Magician [ Puck ]
04 - The Emperor [ Luca ]
07 - The Chariot [ Libra ]
08 - Justice [ Snake ]
09 - The Hermit [ Quill ]
10 - The Wheel of Fortune [ Will ]
12 - The Hanged Man [ Mono ]
13 - Death [ Lucre ]
15 - The Devil [ J ]
21 - The World [ Rowan ]

The Village with No People

[ Hour: 1 ]
​

[class name=scontainer] display: flex; justify-content: center; [/class] [class name=sbuttoncontainer] display: inline-block; margin: 0px 10px; height: 40px; width: 40px; font-size: 0px; position: relative; overflow: hidden; display: inline-block; border-radius: 50%; border: 0px solid #000000; overflow: hidden; transform: perspective(0); [/class] [class name=sbuttonfilter] position: absolute; overflow: hidden; position: relative; top: -11px; left: -10px; width: 130px; height: 100px; [/class] [class name=sbtnone] filter: hue-rotate(-100deg) contrast(100%) brightness(15%) saturate(0%); [/class][div class="scontainer"]

[div class="sbuttoncontainer"][div class="sbuttonfilter sbtnone"]

...Is a sprawling graveyard. Or at least what you think is a graveyard, signified by rows upon rows of rock slabs stacked upon rock slabs, decorated only by the simplest of inscriptions, faded by time.

As you move closer to try and read them however, you are paused by the sounds of the other strangers emerging from the trees. Everyone with strange expressions on their faces, appearing almost as ghostly as the visions that had haunted them in the fog. But thinking about that sea of white makes you shiver, so you instead try and focus on the here and now. Roughly only half of the original group have made it through. You observe them, mentally lamenting the loss of those who have not. Perhaps you'd rather trade a few of these faces for some of those. But regardless, no matter how long you wait and contemplate what next to do, the others never show.

So may as well look around.

The graves extend in three directions, creating a chilling maze against the bright moon's light. Unsure of where, exactly, to go, you meander through them. Not that it matters much as each row is exactly the same. Almost mechanical in its patterns. Stone after stone. As you wander, however, the age of the slabs appears to increase signaled by a decrease in quality. More and more you find rocks chipped or broken or fallen down. On the less weathered ones, at least, you are able to make out some of the inscriptions. Foreign names you do not recognize- not that you were expecting to. But curiously, you note, where reasonably a death date might have been there is an altogether different phrase.

[ Married in Year 1197 ]
​

Each of the stones, in turn, bear a similar epigraph.

[ Married in Year 1196 ]
[ Married in Year 1194 ]
[ Married in Year 1191 ]​

And so on and so on. Counting all the way down through centuries of time. Presumably to Year 1.

After many rows the eeriness of the scene begins to dissolve into monotony, only broken by a monstrous form gradually taking shape on the horizon. Out of necessity or curiosity, you make this your new goal, eventually discovering that it is a... tree. Though a tree unlike any you (think) you have ever seen, even its roots large enough to stand out against the moonlight from the distance where you stand. And as you draw closer its titanic body only looms larger and larger above. Around the base of its thick trunk you can make out myriad lines of engravings, tiny symbols which you cannot recognize. There is also the broken remains of a very long rope pitifully hugging the roots and forrest floor as if having fallen from some height further up. It looks so faded you fear that merely touching it would crumble it to dust, though within its sad coils are tangled the remnants of some strange ancient papers occasionally fluttering against the nighttime wind.

If you continue around this behemoth you will eventually get to a portion that has been hollowed out, the engravings seeming to gather here with great ferocity and spreading so far up the trunk you cannot make out their end against its shadows. If you bend down you can just peak inside the opening, discovering within it a bejeweled slab begging to have some great object placed upon it. Yet there is nothing there. If you happen to turn your head upwards while staring into this enclosure you'll see that the inside of the hollow is also engraved, but not with illegible symbols, but rather the image of some terrifying being with hair like woven branches and clothes made of beetles and moss. Only their eyes stand out against the bark, glowering at you through two bright amber stones.

Feeling a strange, unsettling sensation you quickly pull away to catch up with the others. They have gathered at a point a little ways past that otherworldly tree, overlooking something which you had missed.

It is a vast lake, its waters like a giant crystal underneath the shimmering moon. Curiously, peaking from its banks are what appear to be the tops of some kind of structures, though it's hard to make them out exactly from where you stand. And on the far opposite bank, you can barely see what appears to be some kind of archway. But it would be a far walk to investigate, and there is already plenty to capture your attention here. For while the banks of this mysterious lake are lined by the crumbling remnants of what could have once been a great wall, it is now easily traversed in a matter of steps. Allowing you to peer more closely over the edge into waters that are perfectly, almost abnormally, clear. Revealing that under that still and silvery surface is an entire village preserved, somehow, against the ravages of time.

If you chance a short slide down from where you stand to the riverbank proper, there is what appears to be a stairway leading further in. If you can make it there you will discover a terrace of beautiful buildings, their gold coatings dim and lonely with wear and age. Their entrance halls have long been flooded but it seems that, if you're willing to sacrifice getting a bit wet, it may be possible to look around inside.

And further to your right, there looms what can only be the source of this mysterious wonder, a steady waterfall trickling down a series of wooden contraptions. But it would need closer examination to truly tell what it does.

Looks like it is finally time to investigate.

Classes

[/div]


[/div][/div]

 

[Beleth]

[class=PostBox] width: 80%; height: auto; padding: 10px; border: 3px double #ffffff; margin: auto; border-radius:10px; position: relative; [/class] [class=PostName] width: 80%; height: 33px; border-bottom: double 4px #ffffff; border-bottom-right-radius: 90%; border-bottom-left-radius: 90%; margin: auto; text-align:center;font-size:25px;[/class] [class=Credit] font-size: 8px; position: absolute; bottom: 0; right: 1px; [/class] [class=background] background:url('https://img.freepik.com/free-vector/elegant-white-background-with-shiny-lines_1017-17580.jpg?size=626&ext=jpg') [/class] [div class="PostBox background"][div class=PostName]Airi [/div][/div][div class="PostBox background"]

Mention: Silque
Interaction: Her group
Author's note: I can't make my posts as pretty as you guys' >>"


White. Absolute whiteness.




As if the fog wasn’t bad enough, now it was the equivalent to some corrupted heaven.




As if God himself had decided to push his people, cornering them with walls of cloud and breathes of insanity. With strangers, no less.




Airi had found herself walking among a small group, the fine white-haired maiden leading the forefront of this deranged chacha line. The thing was, the further she walked through the cloud of mist, the fuzzier her own thoughts became. Like someone had just tased the back of her neck and she miraculously survived.




A wave of surrealism dominated most of her senses. Perhaps it was something no more than sea sickness. Land...sickness? Maybe she simply had to fixate on the horizon and everything would be alright.



Except, there was none.



Airi took it upon herself to peer down her own feet, hoping to use her own dress as a point of fixation. Much to her dismay, the article of clothing had blended perfectly into the fog, giving the illusion that she were wearing a dress of clouds. Perhaps Miss Silque would make a fine …



The brit frowned, the female’s silhouette barely so much as a ghost now. She continued to press forward. Maybe the elegant female just had a set of runner’s legs, that’s all. Though, by the looks of her legs back in the clearing …



"Oi, oi, quite a lotta chiefs, innit?"

^(idiots)

Airi froze slightly. A voice managed to break through the wall of smoke. Somehow, something seemed to be speaking to them. Were they being followed? Was she simply so caught in the moment that she had not noticed a newcomer? She turned in close to a 180 degree, facing one of the other individuals before making awkward eye contact with them.



Nose shriveled up in disgust at the invisible comment, the blonde turned back (forward? To the side?) and resumed her pursuit after the guide. By the looks of the others around her, this particular sound was exclusive to her own ears. “Well, no, I wouldn’t say that they’re … that, love. We’re all in the same boat. There’s bound to be indecisiveness everywhere.”



I see. Jus’ ‘bout as bait as the others. T’consider I woulda got a better host, shame, innit?

(simplistic)

Host? Was this a talking parasite of some sort? It seemed to be familiar with her with the way it spoke. Her frown at this point deepened further toward her chin. Though, by the looks of everything, this sort of … fog … (aside from hurting the living chrysler out of her lungs) seems to have had a sort of hallucinatory effect. Either that or the first person to run screaming into the fog wasn’t the most mentally sound. If that were the case, following her wasn’t the greatest plan now, was it?



Basic kretin.



“Alright, that’s just about enough. Who are you and what the hell do you want?” Airi clutched her fist into a ball, calling louder into the fog. Due to the thickness of the condensation, her words could only go so far. “Your name? What is your name? Where are you?”




Heh.



Brief silence, the slight scoff manifesting into ear grating chuckles and chitters at the question.



If I knew, y’fink I wouldja said, ey, bossman? Suppose we can go by th’ same one. Fancy y’wouldn’t mind, lassie.



“Of course I bloody mind. This is my given name. Well, chosen …. Decided?” Airi shook her head once, pushing further through the trail.



Too fuckin’ bad, ‘s gonna be me name once I’m out.



Once … it was out? The cackles resumed again, causing Airi to lock her jaw and growl in irritation. Whatever this was, it was maddening. Any more of this and someone was going to be put back to sleep.



Was this the fog’s doing or was this racket really around them? A part of her began to wonder whether it was solely in her own thoughts rather than some sort of illusion. It seemed very much real and exceptionally aware of the what was going on around her.



iunno ‘bout you, lassie but i’d fancy not takin’ satan’s dick up me arse jus’ yet, ye? If ye can’ be bovvered t’be explorin’ outside these dizzin’ kretins, lemme out. We’ll ‘ave some real fun. The voice returned for one last comment, amusement trickling in its tone. It seems like the
(crazy)
uncertain nature of near life or death wasn't enough to keep it quiet.



“Dammit, will you shut the hell up?” Airi seethed slightly with a twitch. The numbness had grown more, the irritation slowly dissipating into a mix of shame and guilt. She arched her shoulders, hands crossing over to the opposite upper arm.



As soon as the voice had come, it left. Music pulsating in the distance, lights breaking through the obtuse contrast. Perhaps she was going the right way, maybe she was wandering further into her own demise. After all, nothing good could come out of being in a forest with a misty accomplice. A grand archway loomed over them as they entered, the ghost-like female re-emerging to explain that just up ahead there was a shinto shrine. Though, much like the rest of them, she seemed unsure of herself. Only to grow slightly irritable and even aloof if pressed.



It was a festival of some sort. People dancing, shifting and turning. Toys for children, games for families with a drum keeping a beat to it all. Airi took a moment to bask in the overwhelmingly, though not unwanted change in scene. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “I say … it’s like large party! But for whom, exactly? For what?” She turned her head in the direction of the group members before looking back ahead.



She continued walking, keeping a careful eye to not lose the white-haired guide in the midst of the dancing and theatrics. A part of her wanted to inquire where exactly to get a mask. Where to get a mask, how to join in on the dancing. Right now, escaping this sort of foggy madness (though they were not longer in the fog persay) was all that she could care about. Whatever it was, it kept the voices from earlier at bay. She could still hear the murmurs and complaints from within, much like before, but this time it was silenced. The presence of people bothered it.



If this is what kept her thoughts freed from that toxin …



“Excuse me, might I--” Airi approached one of the dancers, but they shifted away. Perhaps they were too far into the event to bother with outsider questions. Not paying too much mind to the stale air that resulted from being ignored, the brit pivoted in another direction.




“You there, lad! Have you any --” As soon as contact was made, the other one twirled away. Nothing more to it.



“Bloody bold, these lot …” she pouted lightly, her tone returning back to the group members. “All I wanted to know was where they’ve possibly gotten these adorable little masks. Perhaps a teddy and a firework or two.”
[/div]

 

[BluEndings]

[class=gradFortune] display:inline; background: -webkit-linear-gradient(#4286AF, #06D3D7); -webkit-background-clip: text; -webkit-text-fill-color: transparent; [/class] [class=gradLove] display:inline; background: -webkit-linear-gradient(#6D1C1C, #DD3581); -webkit-background-clip: text; -webkit-text-fill-color: transparent; [/class] [class=gradFear] display:inline; background: -webkit-linear-gradient(#3E2F60, #9257B2); -webkit-background-clip: text; -webkit-text-fill-color: transparent; [/class] [class=gradBlood] display:inline; background: -webkit-linear-gradient(#003826, #569E85); -webkit-background-clip: text; -webkit-text-fill-color: transparent; [/class] [class=container] height: 100%; width: 100%; overflow: hidden; font-size: 16px; [/class] [class=scroll] padding: 2%; height: 300px; width: 98%; overflow-y: scroll; padding-right: 25px; box-sizing: content-box; [/class] [class name=menuButtonWrapper] [/class] [class name=menuButtonFortune] cursor: pointer; display: inline-block; text-align: center; [/class] [class name=menuButtonLove] cursor: pointer; display: inline-block; text-align: center; [/class] [class name=title] width: 100%; height: 35px; margin: auto; border-style: solid; border-color: black; border-width: 0px 0px 2px 0px; text-align: center; font-size: 20px; [/class] [class name=hover state=hover] -webkit-transform: scale(1.2); [/class] [class name=hoverS state=hover] -webkit-transform: scale(3.75); color: red; [/class] [class name=hoverF state=hover] -webkit-transform: scale(0.8); [/class] [class name=tabName] display: none; [/class] [class=sins] margin-top: 0px; border-width: 2px 0px 0px 0px; [/class] [script class="menuButtonFortune" version=2] (= currentTabFortune "oneFortune") (hide "twoFortune") (hide "threeFortune") [/script] [script class="menuButtonFortune" on=click version=2] (fadeOut 150 currentTabFortune) (= currentTabFortune (trim (index (split (getText) "TAB") 0)))(setTimeout 0.5 (fadeIn 150 currentTabFortune)) [/script] [script class="menuButtonLove" version=2] (= currentTabLove "oneLove") (hide "twoLove") (hide "threeLove") [/script] [script class="menuButtonLove" on=click version=2] (fadeOut 150 currentTabLove) (= currentTabLove (trim (index (split (getText) "TAB") 0)))(setTimeout 0.5 (fadeIn 150 currentTabLove)) [/script] [script class=AddPanic on=click] addClass cardPanic cardFortune [/script] [script class=RemovePanic on=click] removeClass cardPanic cardFortune [/script] [animation=heartbeat] [keyframe=0] transform: scale(.75); [/keyframe] [keyframe=20] transform: scale(1); [/keyframe] [keyframe=40] transform: scale(.75); [/keyframe] [keyframe=60] transform: scale(1); [/keyframe] [keyframe=80] transform: scale(.75); [/keyframe] [keyframe=100] transform: scale(.75); [/keyframe] [/animation] [animation=clickme] [keyframe=0] color: white; [/keyframe] [keyframe=20] color: #4286AF; [/keyframe] [keyframe=40] color: white; [/keyframe] [keyframe=60] color: #4286AF; [/keyframe] [keyframe=80] color: white; [/keyframe] [keyframe=100] color: white; [/keyframe] [/animation] [animation=fogPulse] [keyframe=20] box-shadow: 2px 2px 6px #ffffff, -2px -2px 6px #ffffff; [/keyframe] [keyframe=40] box-shadow: 2px 2px 12px #ffffff, -2px -2px 12px #ffffff; [/keyframe] [keyframe=60] box-shadow: 2px 2px 6px #ffffff, -2px -2px 6px #ffffff; [/keyframe] [keyframe=80] box-shadow: 2px 2px 12px #ffffff, -2px -2px 12px #ffffff; [/keyframe] [keyframe=100] box-shadow: 2px 2px 6px #ffffff, -2px -2px 6px #ffffff; [/keyframe] [/animation] [class=table] display: table; clear: both; margin: 0 auto; width: 45%; [/class] [class=cardContainer] float: left; padding: 2%; width: 96%; [/class] [class name="card"] width: 100%; margin: auto; padding: 4%; background-size: cover; background-position: center; border-radius: 25px; box-sizing: border-box; border: 1px solid black; [/class] [class=indicator] [/class] [class=cardFortune] background-image: url('https://i.imgur.com/H9qWpbp.jpg'); box-shadow: 2px 2px 6px #06D3D7, -2px -2px 6px #06D3D7; color: #cce1e5; transition: background-image 2s, box-shadow 2s; [/class] [class=cardPanic] background-image: url('https://i.imgur.com/DTOz0bS.gif'); box-shadow: 2px 2px 6px #ffffff, -2px -2px 6px #ffffff; animation: {post_id}fogPulse 4s linear 0s infinite; [/class] [class=cardLove] background-image: url('https://i.imgur.com/L5v5Fl6.jpg'); box-shadow: 2px 2px 6px #DD3581, -2px -2px 6px #DD3581; color: #e2d8cc; [/class] [class=cardInner] width: 100%; min-height: 402px; margin: auto; border: 2px solid black; background-color:rgb(0,0,0,0.8); background-position: center; background-size:cover; [/class] [class=musicWrapper] [/class] [class=musicContainer] max-width: 267px; height: 30px; overflow: hidden; border: 0 solid black; border-radius: 10px; margin: auto; [/class] [class name=musicContainer maxWidth=400px] display: none; [/class] [class=musicInner] margin-top: -335px; margin-left: -238px; [/class] [class=footer] width: 100%; min-width: 267px; text-align: center; display: flex; align-items: center; justify-content: center; [/class] [class=footerText] font-size: 12px; width: 100%; [/class] [class=footerFortune] background-color:rgb(0,120,225,0.4); [/class] [class=footerAlt] background-color:rgb(0,0,0,0.4); [/class] [class=footerLove] background-color:rgb(255,0,120,0.4); [/class] [class=pic] pointer-events: none; max-width: 100%; height: auto; width: 38%; float: left; [/class] [class=summaryContent] width: 60%; float: left; [/class] [class=statusIcon] font-size: 16px; padding: 1% width: 0px; margin-top: -36px; padding-bottom: 8px; [/class] [class=beatNormal] animation: {post_id}heartbeat 1.5s infinite; [/class] [class=beatFast] animation: {post_id}heartbeat 1s infinite; [/class] [class=beatVeryFast] animation: {post_id}heartbeat 0.5s infinite; [/class] [class=beatSuperFast] animation: {post_id}heartbeat 0.25s infinite; [/class] [class name=statusIcon maxWidth=400px] display: none [/class] [class=arrow] overflow: hidden; border: none; [/class] [class=panic] background: transparent; border: none; animation: {post_id}clickme 5s infinite; cursor: pointer; [/class] [class=panicText] color: white; [/class] [class=fog] text-align: center; font-size: 35px; [/class] [class=blood] color: red; [/class][div class="table"][div class="cardContainer"][div class="card cardFortune cardPanic"][div class="cardInner"][div class="oneFortune";][div class="menuButtonWrapper title"][div class="tabName"]twoFortuneTAB[/div][div class="oneFortune panicText";][font=Acme]The Confines of One's Mind[/font][/div][/div][/div][div class="oneFortune";][div class="container"][div class="scroll panicText"]It was a pale blanket that brought no warmth. The sweater he did have seemed to be ignored by the whims of the wispy white that surrounded him. Each tuft ran through his body like tender fingers caressing the inside of his aorta. There was no doubt that he had made a mistake, but not one so easily comprehensible. His feet must have been planted in the ground for that only made sense, yet he had lost the feeling of footing entirely. He could no longer tell if he was standing, sitting, or even laying along the ground. His grasp on the long branch held firm, but the pressure of his grip reverberated only in his own wrist. It was not a matter of if, but when he had taken one hand in the other. It was a small reassurance that he was still present, and had not been assimilated into the discomforting mist.

His breathing was all over the place unable to collect oxygen amidst this intangible obstacle. It felt wrong to refer to it as such. It felt much more... alive. Everything around him was nothing but aimless shapeless contrast, but there was undoubtedly a presence other than Will's own. Something familiar but something equally as unwelcome. A remnant tossed aside for a purpose that must be recognized...

What nonesense was running through his head? He needed to run. Forget everyone else. They hadn't been any help anyway. He didn't owe them anything. He didn't have to prove anything. He didn't need to make-up for anything. He didn't need to get along with these people. Blending in? Conforming to the whims of the majority? What was so wrong with being alone?

What was that infuriating beeping?
​

From his left, from his right, from everywhere came a constant beep. Distant and muffled but a piercing unignorable sound. Beep... Beep... Beep... Followed by an unmistakable sensation came from one of his pockets. A stinging vibration that enveloped the surrounding area with an insufferable heat, and as the warmth grew so too did the beeping. Beep... Beep... Beep... Except it was becoming less and less of a beeping and more and more audible for what it truly was—ringing. But the ringing wasn't coming from his pockets, the ringing emitted solely from his own ears. The jarring noise skidding along its canal like a swarm of tiny razors.

SHUT UP
​

It was a foolish attempt that blossomed a terrifying reality: the voice which came out was nothing but harsh static. A feeling of complete and utter vulnerability like rows of thin needles descending down his esophagus. He was truly and utterly powerless, as the ringing refused to give. The question danced across his mind: which would give out first? The noise or his sanity? He would have to succeed before then. After all, there was a simple solution: he just had to take the call. But doing so would not come without a price. As his hand reached in to grab one of the three disposable phones his skin curled up in response to the scalding objects... and yet he continued.

The heat was surely boring through skin and flesh alike but something... abnormal... provided him the drive he needed. In no time at all the device was held up to his ear...

Absolute gibberish.​

Static, twisting, crunching. A chorus of hideous racket that amounted to nothing more than white noise. There was nothing to be garnered from it, and yet Will was trembling. His glasses fell off his face with an insignificant tink, and the white that surrounded him had shifted to a hideous black. No words had been spoken but he had pulled meaning from the madness.

[div class=gradBlood]Those who fail to see value in the things around them don't deserve such a gift.[/div]​

There was no telling when, but he had fallen back. His hands were the only thing propping the rest of him from landing in the oozing black, but they themselves had been sacrificed. There was no doubting it. The ground was gone, and he was sinking. There came no struggle, but a short moment of thought: was this because he didn't alert the group of his decision to enter the fog? Would they all aimlessly follow-suit and perish due to his lack of communication? And for such a petty reason... He still didn't understand anything.

It was up to his shoulders.​

At times like this reflection would take place. A deep and thoughtful consideration of the things one had done in their life. Guilt and remorse for the wrong, and warmth and fulfillment from the good. Yet all he had to go on was the last few moments. The Wheel of Fortune huh? Not so fortunate in the end. It was sort of twisted, but Will hoped there was someone out there who did remember who he was. Someone who would notice he was gone, and truly miss him. It was only natural that his mind would wander to that last item on his person... the wedding ring. It gave him no peace.

He was entirely under now.
​

Something told him he wasn't that great a swimmer—or more importantly, able to hold his breath for long. If he was to pull anything from his situation it was that there was no chance he was athletic in any capability. Just having been out in the woods was enough to give him the creeps. It was unfamiliar and discomforting. It was an odd thing to realize now, but he would take it to heart. He definitely belonged somewhere else. If that wasn't already obvious.

The last thing he did was something he knew he shouldn't have.
He opened his eyes, and it would be his last regret.​

[div class="menuButtonWrapper title arrow"][div class=menuButtonFortune][div class=tabName]threeFortuneTAB[/div][input type=button class="RemovePanic panic hover"]GASP[/input][/div][/div][/div][/div][div class="footer footerFortune footerAlt panicText"][div class="footerText"][/div][/div][div class="musicWrapper"][div class="musicContainer"][div class=musicInner][/div][/div][/div][/div][div class="twoFortune";][div class="menuButtonWrapper title"][div class=menuButtonFortune][div class="tabName"]threeFortuneTAB[/div][div class="hover"][div class="twoFortune";][font=Acme][fa]fa-question-circle fa-pulse far fa-1x[/fa] - - - - - - - - [div class="gradFortune"]"Will"[/div] - - - - - - - - [/font][/div][/div][/div][/div][/div][div class="twoFortune";][div class="container";][div class="scroll"][div class=summaryContent]

[div class="gradFortune"]Age: [/div]Mid Twenties

[div class="gradFortune"]Sex: [/div]Male

[div class="gradFortune"]Height: [/div]5'7"

[div class="gradFortune"]Power: [/div]Deception Perception

[div class="gradFortune"]Status: [/div]

• Very Dirty Glasses
• [Missing] Hat

[div class="gradFortune"]Inventory: [/div]

• Wheel of Fortune Card
• Tape recorder
  • AA Battery (x2)
• Wedding Ring & Box
• Hand Sanitizer

[/div][div class="pic"][/div][/div][div class="footer"][div class="footerText"][/div][/div][div class="musicWrapper"][div class="musicContainer"][div class=musicInner][/div][/div][/div][/div][/div][div class="threeFortune";][div class="menuButtonWrapper title arrow"][div class=menuButtonFortune][div class=tabName]twoFortuneTAB[/div][div class="hover"] - - - [div class=gradFortune]Wheel of Fortune[/div] - - - [/div][/div][/div][/div][div class="threeFortune";][div class="container"][div class="scroll"][div class="menuButtonWrapper title arrow"][div class=menuButtonFortune][div class=tabName]oneFortuneTAB[/div][input type=button class="AddPanic panic hover"]...[/input][/div][/div]And then he was here. Where "here" was didn't matter, but rather the fact that he was no longer in that suffocating fog. His vision was dizzying, which reminded him to reach up and touch his face. Once more, as he had before, he found himself greeted halfway by glasses, dirtying them further. This time, however, there came no reprimand and instead a nervous grin followed by callous laughter. It was quiet at first but boomed into hysteria. He wasn't sure what exactly had happened. Only that he had practically exited the fog as soon as he had entered, but hardly the same. Sweat decorated his trembling body, and his hat was no longer on his head.

Something had gone missing.​

It was a reassurance he wasn't sure he wanted. What had transpired was very much real, and yet as foggy as the mist itself. What was it he had said back at the clearing? The amnesia may have been caused by drugs? Drugs of what kind? It seemed like the reasonable assessment but what classified as reasonable anymore? Could a drug be triggered by fog? That didn't sound like something he knew, now or when he had his memories. Just what kind of person was he? Why did he carry around these... phones. The mere thought of them made him reek in fear. Sorry mother nature, but these were the last things he wanted to carry, and so he tossed them aside.

He supposed they could act as an indicator for the rest of the group, not that they knew he had them to begin with, but whatever. Just what was he going to do about the rest of the group? As enticing as it was to head back through the fog, that had landed last on his list of things to do. The idea of warning them did have its benefits, but it hardly outweighed the risks. They would just have to come through themselves.

Perhaps it was Will himself that was at fault, and not the fog? Was he schizophrenic? He hadn't even considered the fact that his past might involve something like a mental illness. But that still left the case of the mass-amnesia.

Whatever. He'd give his regards to the group once they passed on through. If nothing happens to them then there's no problem, and if something does then they can't blame him for failing to return. Perfectly logical, and yet he lacked any enthusiasm. There wasn't anybody there he particularly liked—he hadn't been around them nearly long enough—but in this moment he felt alone. Being alone while surrounded by people was one thing, but right now he was truly alone in a vast world where he didn't know his place. Maybe... maybe he would try again when they all met back up. He could at least properly apologize to the one going by Silque. There were plenty of other people to meet too. If he just put a bit of effort into it...

Who was he kidding? There was no blending in after a scene like that.

Ugh, he needed to forget this and focus on the now. He hadn't even properly digested his surroundings, even if they were little more than colored blobs in his eyes. There was more than just a forest here. Signs of man's influence, but how odd for something like this here. Carved slabs upon slabs for a ways in several directions. Undoubtedly graves, and graves meant people. Deceased, but also the living who laid them out. Somber, and maybe cruel, but there was a lead.

Will scurried down to get a closer look. What was written on them didn't really matter, just the condition. It would indicate whether or not they were still being maintained, or had long since been abandoned. Most of the one's further down were weathered beyond the point of legibility, whether the writing was frayed or the slab itself was asunder, but there was hope. The one's that were nearby seemed to be in much better shape, and recent. That was all the information he needed but some small part of him clung to a naive chance. The chance that one of the inscribed name's might jog his memory. Even if it didn't, it would provide him a distraction from previous.. unsavory events.

When he finally closed the distance to the first decipherable grave he was confounded to realize it wasn't a grave at all... "Married?" This wasn't just due to his lapse in memory, right? This wasn't normal, right? It was... creepy.

The judgement was hypocritical considering his proceeding thought:

If it wasn't a grave then...
What would he find if he were to dig out beneath this?​

[/div][div class="footer footerFortune"][div class="footerText"]

Interactions: Grave?
Mentions: Silque

Location: Ω
Mood: Apprehensive

[div class="statusIcon beatVeryFast"][/div][/div][/div][/div][/div][/div][/div][/div][/div]

 

[Beleth]

x

..............................................................................Lucre Whatshername. || mention: Will, Silque, Mono, Chubs

x

x

.

One with the fog, none with the villagers
Something about this fog sat ill with Lucre.


She hadn’t moved yet. She wasn’t making the plans to move.

Then the fog came closer ....

… and closer.


It was like an invisible crowd of angry men surrounding them, establishing their turf. Poking and pointing non-existent sticks, terrorizing them into submission.

But there were no men.

There were no sticks.

And for their invisible sake, it was a damn good thing that that were the case.

Something about the condensed material brought Lucre a sense of peace. A peace that she couldn’t exactly explain but felt both alluring yet tainted at the same time. Like a child who had screamed for a candy bar and ultimately got their way. They got what they wanted but at someone else’s (mental) expense.

Was this feeling acceptable? Was she allowed to feel at ease?

In the midst of her pondering, the fog had reached her feet, white obscureness circling around the front of her pumps, demanding to be recognized. Lucre looked to the rest of the group, a few already had gone off in a specific direction after the one with the name that reminded her of soy chocolate milk.

A part of her just wanted to stay in the familiarity but something about the fog hissed and yowled silently. The same type of pestering sound a mosquito makes when nearing human ears. It was irritating and a small irrational side of her just wanted to slap the air away.

It wouldn’t be too farfetched, there was already someone - mono, was it? - who licked the fog. And someone who blatantly marched into the noxious gases. You could say he had a will to die.

“I’m going on ahead,” Lucre spoke up against her own wishes. The words had left her lips at a lightning rate that surpassed her thought process. Speak first, think later seemed to be her motto lately. The female extended a hand behind her, looking over her shoulder at the other individuals. “For those of you who too are uncertain about wandering alone, I can guide you.” As much as her sense of direction would allow her.

If she had to take a hunch at her capabilities, she wouldn’t say she was an expert at directions but it didn’t mean she was necessarily going to get them lost and killed.

After a few moments, the female went ahead regardless of whether she had someone to ‘guide’ or not.

Stepping into the fog was almost as bad as stepping into a gassing chamber. Not that Lucre had any remote idea of what it was like or recalled any sort of incident where she read on the topic to understand where she’d reference it. But just the name alone sounded pretty close to what walking through this condensed wall of teratogens felt like.


Mama?


A small child-like voice called to her(?). A flash of black washed over her in the back of her mind but that was about it.


Mama? She wasn’t a mother. As far as she was concerned she wouldn’t trust herself with so much as a dead fish let alone a child.


Maybe this was more than a fog. Chloroform? No, that Mono individual mentioned that the fog had a peculiar taste to it. Chloroform took on a sweeter sensation (not that she’s remotely experienced the chemical, so how the hell would she know?). This fog was anything but sweet. Maybe salty, humid and sweaty. The type of feeling eeriley close to leaving a poorly ventilated gym.

Mama, wait! Come back! Don’t do it--!

Lucre stopped this time, tensing in place. Don’t do … what? Who was this child talking to? Her features lowered from the curls that hid her eyes, a slight pout forming in distaste.

“Child? Child, where are you. I will come for you. I will reunite you with your mother--” She gazed around once more. Silence withdrew the female back into her stoic self, her heart rate beating cold blood throughout her body.


I don’t feel so good. Was what she wanted to share. But no one else had to know that. All they needed to know where and how they were getting to safety. Nothing else mattered.

---------

After what seemed like forever, she had come across a graveyard. A villager-less community with graves as the only company. The moon rested on the hilltop shoulders, illuminating the surrounding town with its foreboding apocalypse.


Lucre found herself among a group of others, one of them being Will (he was alive?) who settled with making friends with the deceased. He hovered over one of the tombstones shortly after bursting into a fit of what were supposed to be giggles (was he also glad he was still alive? Or disappointed that the outcome wasn’t to his liking…)

“It seems like we’ve been unitedly separated,” Lucre murmured. Her tone was hushed; not out of shyness but moreso to avoid disrupting anyone who did not want to be bothered. They would be presented with (rather obvious) information and still be allowed to continue on their merry way. Be it standing around or grave-robbing, the female was by no means about to critique on how they spent their free-time.

Maybe, just maybe, if they waited long enough, some reenactment of the rising dead could happen. This would be their odd moment of coming together as a group and fighting off the evil dead. Maybe once they were bitten this would all be over--

Married in the year 1196

Just how far back in time had they gone? Lucre crouched, lowering herself down to the mound to swipe two fingers alongside the top of the tombstone.

It’s been quite a bit. Just long enough for an apocalypse to occur.

Maybe that would have given some answer to what was going on. The amnesia, the strangers, the orange-red head that stood just about as tall as she that spewed hazy familiarity.

The female’s lips parted into a wry chuckle. Anything honestly could have happened and she wouldn’t have minded. Anything was better than this dry spell of events. The sooner she found her answer the sooner she could …

The thought sat a standstill for her. Where would she go?

Did she have someone to go home to?

Did she even have a home?

Her leg swung into the mound, in a similar manner to the childish female she came across. The dirt now scattered, Lucre gazed into the specs, an aloof demeanor washing over her once more.

These types of thoughts only caused more harm than good. If there was anything particularly appealing, then maybe she’d considered pursuing it for further investigation. Until then, she’d be chasing her own tail, looking for answers in wind particles.

Though, there was nothing wrong with others investigating if they were already on it.
“Tombstones, deserted villages and an audience of tumble weeds. Does anyone else remember what year they were in before any of ...this … happened?” Lucre redirected a hand to her hip, fingers drawing into the cotton ridges of her dress.

......

coded by: _nechesyn​

x

 

[FoldedPages]

g r o u p Ω

.

[class=fyuri04wrapper] max-width:450px; min-height:600px; margin:30px auto; background: #272e38; border-radius: 5px 5px 5px 5px; -moz-border-radius: 5px 5px 5px 5px; -webkit-border-radius: 5px 5px 5px 5px; overflow:hidden; -webkit-box-shadow: 0px 0px 40px 7px rgba(0,0,0,0.32); -moz-box-shadow: 0px 0px 40px 7px rgba(0,0,0,0.32); box-shadow: 0px 0px 40px 7px rgba(0,0,0,0.32); padding:115px 0px 35px 0px; [/class] [class=fyuri04mid] position:relative; width:100%; min-height:600px; background-color:#efefef; padding-bottom:10px; [/class] [class=fyuri04parent] display: block; position:relative; top:-60px; z-index:5; width:90%; min-height:500px; margin:0px auto -60px auto; background-color:#fff; padding:10px; text-align:justify; color:#313131; font-size:13px; [/class] [class=fyuri04headerleft] text-align:left; margin:-10px 0px -15px 0px; font=Shadows Into Light; font-size:30px; color:#313131; padding-left:10px; [/class] [class=fyuri04headerright] padding-right:10px; margin:-10px 0px -15px 0px; text-align:right; font-family: 'Lato', Lato Thin; font-size:10px; color:#313131; [/class] [class=fyurir04imagebox] display:inline; text-align:center; pointer-events:none; [/class] [class=fyuri04boxleft] padding:5px 10px 5px 5px; max-height: 400px; [/class] [class=fyuri04credit] position:relative; top:-5px; max-width:450px; margin:auto; opacity:0.3; font-size:10px; [/class]
[div class=fyuri04wrapper][div class=fyuri04mid][div class=fyuri04parent][div class=fyurir04imagebox]

[/div]
[div class=fyuri04headerleft]T h e [ W o r l d ][/div]

[div class=fyuri04boxleft]
"There's no point in possibly hurting ourselves tonight; who knows what lies within the forest."

Such sound advice those words were. Regrettably, the group would never be able to heed them as Rowan wanted. Unbeknownst to them, the forest had a mind of its own, and plans for them as well. At the time the words were uttered, the woman had no notion of knowing what truly lied in the forest. How could she know what anticipated their arrival into the fog was their own worst nightmare?

Had they known, would these strangers have spent the last hour quarreling? Loathing and seething because of one another? Chubs, the man whose hair reflected a dying sunset, had finally released his captives. The man with a limp had waddled away to wake a sleeping body. Somehow, 'Snake' ended restrained once again. This time, the captor's height and structure disappointed in comparison to the self-proclaimed Chubs'. The observation proved one conclusion: the man flush with the forest floor, this Snake, was not only frail but a liability. Thoughts galloped through Rowan's mind, her surroundings becoming faint and distant as her pointer and thumb finger rested on her chin. So entranced in her own reflections, she had neglected to regard the creeping fog and the man who disappeared within its confines and the woman who followed suit.

"Wait...! Silque!"

A plead that snapped Rowan from her own subconscious. The voice belonged to the man she considered her friend, Luca. His body was positioned to enter the ominous fog Rowan was now aware of. One glance at the misty substance and her heart began to beat wildly like a caged bird, a feeling of encasement tormenting her body. The trees were moving unrelentingly towards her, their branches promising to coil around her petite body and compress every last breath out of her. Whatever was approaching the group, Rowan could not and would not allow Luca to enter it.

"Luca, don't act so rash," She implored, her body shifting to halt him in his tracks with one hand around his upper arm. Stopping him from entering the mist, however, did not stop the mist from proceeding to them. Whatever retort he had given her fell on deaf's ears as the mist blanketed their entire bodies. A powdery white substance tickled Rowan's skin, coaxing a false sense of security that immediately contrasted with a sense of terror. The hand around Luca's arm tightened with enough strength to bypass his clothing and imprint crescent moons into his skin. He was still there, right? She wasn't alone?

Rowan could still feel him under her hand, thankfully, but the revelation did little to quell her churning intestines. "We need to get out of here," She urged, millenniums of evolution thrusting forward. It was either fight or flight, be killed or kill, and Rowan chose the latter. Her feet moved beneath her, and her hand released its grip on Luca's arm only to grab at what she could only assume was his hand. Then, she dragged him through the fog with little room for argument.

Her feet pounded at the forest ground, twigs (?) snapping beneath her athletic shoes with enough force to ricochet them off her ankles and form superficial scrapes. Had this been a nightmare, the dull pain would have been enough to wake her from this cruelty. Instead of waking in the comfort of her own bed, she was running and racing for her life. Her hand clutched at Luca's tighter. She was uncertain if it was to console him or to comfort herself.

As they ran hand-in-hand, Rowan felt her heart in her throat like a lump. With each beat of the vital organ, a strong metallic aftertaste lingered in her dry mouth. She could feel her esophagus being obstructed, precious oxygen unable to fill her lungs.

thump, thump, thump

That was all Rowan's ears could detect, heat emitting from the auricles as blood continued to rush her senses.

thump, thump, thump

Would her heart burst from her chest? How long had they been running? Her legs transitioned from an uncomfortable ache, longing for rest, to numbness. The thumping in her ears was abruptly supplanted by an odd sound.

tac, tac, tac

The sound was energetic and quick.

tac, tac, tac

Typing? Rowan's eyebrows knitted together, horizontal lines creasing her once smooth face.

t a c, t a c, t a c

Rowan jerked her head to look at Luca, her mouth agape to ask him if he heard someone typing as well. Except, when her eyes darted to Luca, he no longer possessed the calmingly handsome features he once did in the clearing. It was only for an instant, but sharp deepened crimson eyes peered into Rowan's, sucking whatever breath she had out of her lungs. His changed eyes were complemented by a too large and too wide of a grin for his face. Squeezing her eyes shut and reopening them revealed the profile of the man she remembered from the clearing. Thinking it was best not to mention anything, Rowan focused her gaze forward once more.

Unfortunately for her, the fog was pitiless, declining to let up no matter how much Rowan begged and pleaded internally. A putrid smell that singed the inside of her nostrils answered her beseeching. Her cognizance registered the odor as decaying flesh. Human flesh? Animal flesh? Did it even matter what type of flesh? Mother nature accepted the decomposing corpses back into her soil no matter what they were in their previous life. The intruding odor twisted and coiled Rowan's insides like the overhead tree branches, the contents of her stomach slowly inching upwards. As the aroma grew more potent, a nauseating sound echoed through her eardrums, superseding the typing. It was a raucous grating sound, bone splitting and splintering against each other. It was rhythmic in nature and repulsive.

And then...

The voices chimed against the rasping. Adolescent voices, youthful voices, aged voices; they all littered her subconscious with unrecognizable words. Rowan became a hostage in a hurricane of her own thoughts. Becoming unbearable, Rowan released her grip on Luca's hand and stopped running, her hands clutching at her ears. She was drowning.

"Make it stop, make it stop," She begged into the misty air, pinching her eyes shut. Her nails gouged into the side of her skull, drawing blood as she raked them down towards the soil. The odor continued to penetrate her olfactory as the overwhelming voices and breaking bones plagued her subconscious, inching closer and closer and closer.

It was time to run.

After taking two fleeting steps, Rowan was suddenly on her knees, defeated by a cresting root. When she dared open her eyes again, the fog had suddenly dissipated. Just as it dissipated, a sickly 'POP' resonated in her mind followed by a gush of blood in her head. Then, something in Rowan's eyes shifted. Like an automaton, void of any emotion, she reached into the hidden pocket of her jacket and pulled out the syringe she had been carrying. Her amber irises fixated on the object rolling in her palm until she swiftly grasped the cylinder, brought it into the air, and suddenly thrust it into her thigh muscle without so much as batting an eyelash. Instinctively, she drew back on the end, and a warm red liquid followed.

B L O O D.

Well, she was still alive. Her head cocked to the side in feigned curiosity as she flipped the syringe like an hourglass, observing the extract mimicking the movement. Tentatively, she brought the needle to her mouth and placed one tiny drop of blood on her tongue before squirting the rest into the soil. While dusting soil over the darkened spot to conceal it, she noticed an item that seemed out of place: a cell phone. Returning the empty syringe back to its hidden home, she clutched the device, examining it once over. Determining that it may or may not be beneficial, she tucked the phone into her back pocket.

Another shift, a small flicker of light in those amber eyes that extinguished as quickly as it came. The same eyes surveyed their new surroundings. An area that was a stark contrast to the clearing she had run from. Once fenced in by infinite trees, Rowan was now in a desolate stretch. As she stood, contusions and abrasions peppering her legs, the only evidence of her brave charge through the fog, revealed themselves. A dull ache radiated down the appendages as blood flow finally returned to the over-exhausted muscles. With a glance towards the direction of what appears to be distant tombstones, Will and Lucre came into sight. Partly being too debilitated to engage in conversation, and partly not giving a flying fuck about these people...

Wait, what? But back in the clearing, I did care about these strangers. I didn't want to be alone so what...

No.

T̵̢͍̤͗͋̐̀̌͆̕h̷̨̘̜͇͔̲̜͙͓͊͆͗e̸̛̞͎̠̠̼̊̋͆̆͌̓s̷̢̨̢̲̞͓̬̪͕̾̽̇͝e̷͎̻̟̦͈̅͛́̒͘͝͠ͅ ̶̺͓̼͕͈̦͓̒̑̒̈́̇̆p̸̤̼̥̰͓̩͂̓̄e̵̡̛̼̭̔̊̐͝o̶͓̟̮̺̙͂̍͊̅̅͋̉͜͠͠p̸̧̼͎̗̽͝l̶̮͇̞͔̗̥̘̼̆̂͆̂͆͗̕ë̸̡̢̢̦̮͚̩̜͕̎͊̈́̂̀͘͘͝ ̵̗̥͙̙̓̅̈͘ą̵̞͍̺̗̘̖̠̉͆̇͐̆͝͝r̵̟̭̤̋́̌͘ę̵̜̠̮̣̗̊̊̎̅͘ ̸̨̨̣͕̖̤͉͈̥͌͑̑̑͆̈͛̓̊b̸͇̿͆̒̔̇̎̄̔̌ḙ̴̘͍̾͂̀̌ń̷̙̣ȩ̶̛̦̦̻͇̭͋̾̿͂͌͂̽͝ä̴̧̜͔͔̭͕̅̽̾̇̉t̴̹̋̿̔̓̒̄̕̕h̶̨͓̪̟͈̬͈͌̾̈́͗̂̕͠͝ͅ ̵̱͉̫̦͉͖̤̀̈́̅̊͒̈́͂̀͜ḿ̸̖͎̝̯̣͉͍̾͝e̴͕͌̃.̷͎̠͔̤̯͆̇̋̑͋̕

Ignoring the others within the graveyard, her legs strode towards a monstrous form in the distance. Her eyes narrowed, desperately attempting to get a clearer vision of what was just on the horizon. After a long trek, a tree formed in her eyesight. A sharp exhale escaped her roseate lips. She had not been aware she was even holding in her breath until that relieving moment. Even from where she stood, the tree ornated the barren surroundings, the muted light from the moon casting a haunting glow against it. Rowan was drawn to it, promptly removing any gap between herself and the tree. A quick scan of the trunk unveiled engravings of foreign origin. Lightly, Rowan brushed the tips of her fingers down the bark, investigating the symbols. As her eyes strained lower and lower, a threadbare rope intertwined in the colossal roots caught her attention. Knitting her eyebrows together, she glimpsed up into the limbs of the tree where the rope must have descended from. A baleful panic crashed into Rowan like a wave against a rocky shore. This tree, this rope, it all seemed forthcoming.

But, that was ridiculous, right?

[div class=fyuri04headerright]Interactions: izayoiix || Mentions: BluEndings Beleth

[div class=fyuri04credit]code by @Fyuri[/div][/div][/div][/div][/div][/div]

 

[cinnabuns]

G r o u p Α

[div class=mainCon][div class=contentWrap][div class=scrollWrap][div class=textWrap]
Justice, hm?

Justice...was a strange concept, Sol thought to herself as she slide her card into a pocket. It didn’t bring her peace, at least. Just thinking about it seemed to slightly throw off the grounding she felt she’d had when she woke up. Justice, the idea of it, found Sol faintly fighting within her own self when she thought of it. What was it that made her feel so…

disgusted?​

Was it her?

Unfortunately, she couldn’t follow the feeling, figure it out properly. All that she knew was that she had a problem with it. Sol just decided it was something her past self would have better answers to, and with that, she found herself wishing for a memory to come back, just one. Maybe even two.

Sol found herself momentarily distracted by the one in beige. She had paid attention. When he was riled up - so much she personally had been unsure if he wasn’t going to cause Chubs to grip him tighter until he finally caved - she had managed to say something to calm him down. Maybe it was a certain word? Maybe it was just speaking to him with respect? She wasn’t sure, but it did interest her.

She looked into his blue eyes for just a moment, still gentle with her own, giving him a bow of the head as a “thank you” for answering when, as she saw, he could have just dismissed her. There was so much hostility. So much ire, so much confusion, there. was. so. much. chaos. It bothered her, but in a strange way, it brought back her mental footing.

She hoped she could do something to aid in fixing all of this tension, because she had a feeling they would need each other to figure out what was happening.

But then she looked beyond him because, of course, the fog was coming.

And in the fog, she saw nothing.

But she felt like she was drowning as she stared into the void. As if the fog itself had already reached her, and was snaking down her throat and into her lungs, threatening to choke her. The air felt thick, and Sol could feel her eyes beginning to water.

But there was another feeling, deep down.

Something that felt like

a​

tug,​

as if, somehow, something out there….

Something out there wanted it to join her, and suffocate properly.

It was Chub’s laugh that brought her back again. She blinked back the tears, turning back to watch the jolly man get into rhythm. It...was heartwarming, to see such a pure gesture when everything felt like it was going sour.

After all, she couldn’t even remember her real name.

Before she could even ponder that thought, she heard a slight hum. Then, an arm was around her shoulders, and she found herself looking into bright pink irises.

Ugh, so that was seven? Seven. Seven people she found herself attracted to, since waking up. How was that possible, and why was she thinking that now? She, at that moment, hadn’t even realized she had been keeping count. Maybe it was the moment, especially when the woman spoke next.

"You want to know what my card says, hm?"

Sol felt fingers drumming against her shoulder, and with a bat of her eyelashes, found herself gently sliding her arm around the woman’s waist. This felt, oddly, natural, and helped when the woman leaned against her, and she steadied herself to make sure they wouldn’t topple over.

"Do I get a reward if I tell you, Sol? I think I need an incentive..."

Yes, she’d just spoke on how they needed to focus. Something within her was quarreling with the idea, however, when she had such a beautiful woman in front of her. She let out her own hum in response to the other’s words, and was about to reply, when she noticed that Will, behind the woman, was walking into the fog,

and how he seemingly turned white right before he disappeared completely into the looming, incoming, mass.

Sol’s breath caught in her throat as her eyes widened, her facial expression giving away only a part of what she was feeling at seeing someone just vanish like that. She watched as Mono almost followed suit, but the breath she’d lost came back when she realized he was only...tasting the fog? Tasting. Tasting the fog. Okay, fine, whatever. All she could think was, ‘hey, at least he didn’t fucking disappear like Houdini’.

She hoped Will would come back.

She was lucky that whatever was inside her, warming her and seemingly scaling down her horror, worry and irritation, acted quickly. Sol was incredibly grateful, in fact. Watching Will practically get swallowed whole by the fog pained her, and where she felt the heartache at someone having to lose a life, she soon felt that very warmth, crawling into the spaces, into her being, soothing her bones.

Sol felt like the past her would have screamed, would have given away much more of her emotions. Whatever this weird feeling was inside of her, it was definitely helping. She needed to work with it, because she had something. If she could calm herself, maybe even calm the others? Maybe it could be useful, maybe she could be helpful.

“STOP!”

And of course, once more, the moment passed. Sol could have screamed out at Silque, but she was already gone into the fog before she could say anything. By the time she’d opened her mouth, Luca’s words had filled the space. Sol’s heart wrestled, wanting to experience fear but, it couldn’t, not for long.

Was this feeling actually a curse?

Whatever it was, they needed to move.

And suddenly, Sol’s mind was on the woman she first connected with, and not the woman she was connecting with now. The fog was nerve-wracking, and leaving Wolfe alone wasn’t on her agenda. If they had to get through the fog, they would get through together.

Sol smiled at the blonde woman. “If only there was more time…” She mused, bringing her arm from around the woman’s waist, and her other hand up to rest on the woman’s cheek. “I’ll have to take a raincheck on that incentive.”

And with that, Sol moved her hand from her cheek, taking the woman’s arm from around her waist so she could press a kiss against the back of her hand. Another time. If they were lucky enough to have time. So many people she wanted to know.

She only hoped the fog wouldn’t destroy them first.

Sol turned and briskly walked over to Wolfe, holding a hand out to her as the fog drew in and the others around them began to be engulfed by the darkness.

“Trust me?”

That was all she could ask of the brunette. Wolfe had trusted her earlier enough to become still in her anxiousness, and now, Sol hoped she would have enough trust to take her hand. She would be her metaphorical anchor, as long as Wolfe needed her to be.

Truth be told, Sol herself wanted a hand to hold. She could feel it, a flicker of fear. So maybe it was a give and take. Sol would give her direction and Wolfe might manage to give her some clarity in the fog.

She was relieved when Wolfe, hesitantly after biting her lip, took her hand, nodding slowly, somewhat shaking.

“I...I do….”

There was something in that voice. Sol had to protect it. She gave Wolfe’s hand a squeeze, standing close to her.

“Just keep moving with me, Wolfe. We can do this.”

Who was she talking to?

The drowning feeling was still there. If fact, it was somehow worse, even with Wolfe glued next to her. The feeling still settled and felt like it was weighing her down, but she couldn’t stop moving. Neither of them could take a moment t--

“Papi?”

Sol almost looked when she heard the sound of a door slamming shut, but then the sound...morphed? Into heavy breathing, the sound of something large being dragged across the floor. She...suddenly couldn’t pinpoint it. Suddenly it sounded like it was echoing around them, with the sounds of sobbing. The sound of a soft siren song, as if it was guiding her, guiding them.

Hear my Voice beneath the sea

Sleeping now so peacefully



At the bottom of the sea​

Sleep for all eternity​

"¿Papi, Mami, que haces?...Daddy, ẅ̴̭̞̼́̋ḫ̸̪̖̈́̅̆̕å̸̼̺̹̔̌͝͝t̴̛̯͈̠͂́ ̴̖̄a̷͉̤̅͜r̴̮̀̿́̑ė̸̗̼̳͖̎ ̶̣͍̅̋͒͘y̴͍͗̍̔͐ò̶̹̾̕ū̴̮̲̪̻̋̈͆͠ ̴͚̩̎̂̃̽͗d̸̼̟̐̂͌ő̸̦̜͕͌i̶͇̖̿̉͐̕͠n̶͙̽̽̓͜ͅg̵̤͒̈́̔̄͒?̶̧̹̗̖̳͊"


Growling, a deep, sound, like it was right in her eardrums, and that damn weeping, growing louder. Sol wanted to s c r a t c h the sound out, wanted to rip her own fucking ears out, but she couldn’t let go of Wolfe. Wolfe, who was gripping on her so tight she had no idea how the girl wasn’t verbalizing her fear. She had no idea how she also wasn’t saying anything, as if everything stunned her into a silence, muting her as they continued through the dark.


"Daddy stop, por favor, detente, ahora, y̴̛̟͉̟͚̩͈̱͔̞͖̯̅͑̀̂ỏ̷͍͚̣̦̙̮͓̆̓̐͛͠u̸̖̎̿̀̋̍̊̽̿'̴̡̧̗̜̬͈͖̪͛̌̔ŗ̵̣̥̱͚̜̩͕̹̯̑̑͒̄͗͗͊̉͘ẽ̶̪̺́̅ ̸̛̣̾̊̃̄ǧ̶̨̢̣̙̺̮͈̺̜̯̪̣̑͋̂̉̎̀̉̆̉̈́͝ó̶̧̳̙̜̙̜̩̹̠̀͋̂̓͊̃͑̅̈́͝͝ị̷̛̯͎̫̅̐͐n̸̦͙͖͊͊̆͝͠g̷͈̪̟̗̣͖̑͂ ̴̮̪̯̦͕͔͕̖̱̅͋̉͋̒̿̈́̂̏́̚͝t̸̘̫̲̺͕̏̐̌́̎̈́̇̾͐͆̓͝ȍ̷͎̾̆̍̂̀̕ ̵̡̳̘̘͚̻̻͉͛̑̽͌͂̍k̷̖̓͛̓͐̀̈́̾̅͑͠͠ï̷̟͖͚͓̘͙͖͕̦̟̬̔̀̽̇͜ļ̶̫͖̦̜̼͈̩̈ͅl̸̬͉̄́̄̄̆̀̈́̍̌̕ ̵̧̹͎̮͎͍͝h̴̢̳͔̭̠̺͛̀̔̎̐̿̒̑͝e̷̟̹͙̣̾̐̔̾̆̈́̑̎͆̄͠r̷̮̯̥̟͆̑,̶̡̡̛̝͔͜͝ ̶̡̢̦̩͖̦̟̽̇͑͊̄ţ̴͓̘̺̤͙͔͔̼̖͈̂̀h̷̢͍̐̋̿͐̓͌̌̈́͝ã̴̺̫͖̙̯͙͒͐̽͆̉͗͊̀̎̃t̶̡̢̡̨̜̝͎̼͉̮̎́̈́͂̋̕'̷̩̆̎̈̊̈́̒̑̿̚s̶̡̧̤̟̲͉̮͉̰͇̈̈͊͌͗̓̈͒̂̕̕͠ ̶͓̦͖̥͖̯͚͓̊́̏͗̏͌͒̍e̸̡̞͇̮͓̩̹͇͐̋͊̃͗̈̏̓̋͋̈́͜n̶̢̫̝̦͎̣̰͓̥͗̀̌͑͌͌̇͂̅́̀͘ͅȯ̶̲͓̮͉͔͖̍͐̋̓͌͐̅̕u̴̥̤̙̼͍̦͐̈́̆g̶̡͔̬̯̙̍̋͋̈h̶̛͎̼́͑̈́͛̐͆̉̚̕--"


It did sound like someone was dying. Like someone was wringing out the last of their breath as they struggled to just have one last inhale. It frightened Sol; she felt her heart begin to beat out of her chest, regardless of the sinking feeling. She needed to help whoever that was.

Sol gave Wolfe’s hand another squeeze, something to remind her that she was in the moment. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t turn around. She couldn’t trust what she was hearing. She couldn’t go back; they had to move forward. She almost paused, though, when she heard more of the singing.

Let my voice lead you this way

I will not lead you astray



Trust me as we reach the side​

Jumping out where en have died​

She knew she shouldn’t follow, something told her she couldn’t follow, something


Something--


“̵̨̨̢̧̢͇̠̝̜̱͎̣͍̟̳̠͇̳̫̹͉̖̰̳̰͍͓̜̥̭̻̘̞̝̪̩͇̜̘͍̮̹̓͗͐̓͌̿̔̋́̌͛̏͂̃̽̀̾̉̔͌̄͌͌̍̒̋̍͒̅̋̒̍̚̕̕̕̚͘͝͝͠ͅͅG̶̨̧̨̡̦͉̪̻͈̫̮̤̻̱̩̳̫̘̖̻͈̜͉͍̤̖̗̰̟͉̣͙͚͈̗͎͔̜̲̽͊͐̃̈͋́̾́͑́̽͌̿̂̀̀̀̊̑̈͊̈̈́̒̕̚͘͜͝͝o̵̪̱̦̥̙̓̽͒̐͋̔̿́̔̈́͒̀̒̐̀̐͗͘̚̚͝͝d̷̨̜͍͈̦̺͎̗͔̬̟̗̠̻͎̼̤̞̈͒̾͑̿̔͋̊͐̚͘͝͝͝,̷̢̦͔̘͔̼̞͇͓͚̤̻͉̲͚̪̘̥̪̙͎̥͚̗̣͈͓̌̂͛̀̌͐̂̔͂̓̋͋̌̾͠ ̷̦̖̮̭̦̰̤̖̏[̴̧̡̨̨̡̛̯̭̦͎̠̹̳͖̤͚͍̬̥̬̙̟̣̳̲̝̦̫͎̦̯̦̜̙̂̽̌̋̇͑̈́̄̽̅̇̔̀̕̕̕į̵̨̳̪͚̘̝͇͙̺̰̣͖̖̬͇̖̗̺͖̖̻̣̲̝͙̼̼̜̟͕̜͈̺̟̭̎̊̔͗̃̌̿̊̊̐̀̓͐̋̕̚͜͜͝͠ͅ]̴̧̨̡̢̧̛̟̮͚̙̞̞͍̼̹̪͔̼̬͚̹̜̹̥̯̳̤̜̠͇̰̘̱̮̄̀̇̅̔̊̐͂̈́̀̃̅͑̈́̓̐̆̆̏̾͗̊͂̕̕͜͝ͅģ̸̘̙̣͙̮̜͔̱̪̠̹̻̟̝̱͕̥͖̭̜̳̭͇̫̱͗̒͌̈́̈́̀̓̈́̃̇̈́̓̑̄̆̿̈́̔̌͊́̽̚̚͝͠͝͝ͅͅơ̵̡̧̡̱̫͖̱̫͈̲̼̙̰̻͕̦̝͕̰̐̾̉͆̇̀̏̌͒͋̽̿͘͝ḑ̴̧̛̰̭̗̭̺̱̦͕͔̯͈̠̝̙̣͈͍̲̲̻̭̘̺̼̗͔̪̮̫̩̩̞͕̘̫̪̩̅͊͌́͌̓͊̔̿̓͂́́̉̆̈́̓̚͘͘̕͜͜͝ͅ[̶̡̨̨̛̫͚̖̝͉̣̪͓̠̤̘̜̩̫͇͓̦͖͍͙̟͈͈̜̘̤͓̞̯͈̺̰̙͓̯̿̀̓̏̈́͌̃̓̉̈́̆͂̃̄̽̾̐̊̀̿͛̃͆̌̐̂̚̕͜͠͠͝͠ͅ/̴̨̡͍̤͓͓̥͙͖͉̱̱̯̜͎̳̮̃̎̑̒̆̅̈̀̓̈́̈̆́̇̈̍́̆̊̎͆͗̄͆̄̚͜͝ì̶͖̠̼͕̤̥̾̅̋̆́̀́͋͘̚̚̚͘͘͝]̷̧̡̡̰͎̜̥͔̯̟̝̳̳̝͎̱̫̻̻͔͖͈͖̤͔̗̗͇̰͇̤̮̫̱͍̠͚͌͛͐̿͐̉̃̏̄̈́̈́̑̍̄͑̑̑̏́̿̽̈̈́̕̕͜͠͠ͅ,̸̧̢̧̡̨̡̛̛̛͈̟̟̠̥͇̪̖̖̝̗͇̤̯͎̥̺̫͙͓͔̯̻͚̮̝̠̬̭͚̯̣̜̝͖̥̫̇̑͌̉͐͛͑̽͐͗͗̀̅̍̀͆̅̔̎̀̌͊̋̕͜͝ ̶̢̡̡̮̝͈͍̩͇̥̤̰͕̝͙̮̩̰̳͎̤̺̩̄̒͊̑͆̈́̽͋̄̕̕͝͝ͅͅf̴̨̨͙̯̠̥̥̹͔̹͉̰̠̱̣̝͓̙̘̬͉̉̐͋̇̆̄͛́́̒̉̏̔̓̍̍̚͘͜͠ḭ̴̡̢̨̢̛̛͎͓̳̲͎͕̪͉̟͕͖̬̠͍̥̙̱̠̥̹̝͉͖̟̙̙͇̪̥̥̲͈̞́̒͐̀̈́̊͌̇̃͋̇̏͐́͊̍͒͊̈̀̌̒͑̎̑̎͌͗͊̓̓͐̅̐̿̎̚͜͝͝ͅn̷̢̢̡̪͍̗̘̖̮̤̝͍̯̜̭͔̹͕͉̖̝̻̺͚͈̣̱͙̙̖̣͔̗̉̈̃́̊͗̇̂͜e̸̛̙̝̤̿͌̌̎̅̇̏̆͌͛̈́̈͒̐͑̄̋̂͗͝͝͝͠,̴̧̢̧̛̛͔̰̪̫̘̘̩̥̗̹͚̰͇͓͕̥̜̞͕̰͛̌͌͂͋̀͑͂̑͒͋̉̓͛̑̆̊̏̕̚͝͝͝͝ͅ ̷͚͉̲̱̙͙͎̣̻̮̯̎̔̌̋̿̎͌̍̏̀͛͑̇͂͐͌̅̀̈́͗̉̏͛͋͂̓̉̑̈́͆͊͗̄͝͝͠͠͝[̶̨̱̻̲͇͖͉̳͓͙̖͓̎̎̈́̑́̅i̵̢̨̢͈̣̱͍̺̦̠͖͈̳͈͙̱̬͓͇̜͋̾̀̐͝͝]̶̡̡̘̬̝̱̥̳̪̺͈͚̫̳͕͖̜̺̩̩̤̗͔̥̺͇̥̲̖̞̆͛͑̈́͌̚͜m̶̡̞̙̯̗̞̫̤̼͔̖̲̄̽͛̆̅̄̒̀̌͗̕̕͠͝ͅȩ̸̡̡̖̱̪̺̟̖̗̮͍̰̘̖̭̤̰̠̙͉̫̥̻̰̮͗̆̿͑̉̈͗̒̈͛͊̃͌̉̈̀̎̈͆̋̏̈̔̈̉̉̐͛̾̾̚͘͝͝͝͠ͅ ̶̧̡̛̪̟̭̞̗̼̖͉͇̖̞͚̗̪̫̠̩̟̱̤̖̙͕̞̗̟̌̊̏̋̏̈̓̽͂̈́̓̋́̀͘̕̚̚͝͝ͅh̵̡̡̨̖̞̞̬̫̠͓̰̤̭̪͎̺͔̝͉͙̫̣̩̤͚̟̪͈̤̗̤̻͕͉̼̮͚̞̐̄̏́͑̎͛̍̃̈̔̃͐̀̿̍̎͆͒̍̀͆̾̒̈́̋͘͜͝͠͠ͅͅi̶̧̢̧̢̛̛̘̲͔̠̥͎̗̘̙̘̗̰̮̠͖̗̊̄̾̈̀̆̐̅̑̑̌̿͌͆̓̔̓̾̌̈͐̏̒̌͂̐͘͘̕͘͝͝c̵̡̛̛̻̮͉̻̪̻̙̹̺̙̲̹̱͚̗̬̟̀̎̈͐̀̄̓̆́͐̋̔̏͛́͒̏͛̓̀̀́͂́̂̏̈́͊͗̇̅͑̍͑̕͝͝͠ͅì̶̡̢͍̱͔̹̲̠͎͈̭̟̬̤̟͎͖̯̈́̈͊̇̿͗̾̕s̴̡̫̜̭͍͇̬͖̺̈́̊̐͠t̶̡̢̢̧̗̫̝͓͈͕͉̲̟̬̠̯̤͎̝̮͍̘̘͚̺̼͇̜̺͕̰͚͍̠͕͙̗̫̟͓̺̲̄͌͛̆̅̈͜͝͝͝ë̵̢͕̦͉̺̯̹͕͍̞̪́̕͜ ̷̧̨̢͖̹͖͍̖̫̖̣̘̗̬̞̩̘̟̭̖͉̻͎̤̟͎̤̬̜̼͎̳͚̹̝̣̔͗̏̀͐̀͛̆̄̑̕͜͠ͅͅ[̶̧͚̱̰͇̟̬̭̪̰̥̣̩̥̻̲̦̭͍̘̲̣̞͍̙͉̜̫̫̖̺̤̜̱͇̽̄̀̏̅̂̆̋͌̐̿̂̈́̑́͑͑̓̈́̓̔̈́̊͐̂ͅb̴̧̨̨̡̨̡̢̧̡̧̢̯̳̞̜̬̪̖̺͇̦̟͎͔̘̜̣͇̻̮͉̯̘̣̻̫̘̖̩͚̤͙̺͊̄̈́̍̈́̏̒̈̍̎͂̓̏̀͗͛̎̑͗̃̊̒̋̚͜]̶̨̢̨̧̧̛̛͉̻̖̤͙͉̺̥̦̜̲̖̘̭̙͔̲̼̣͔͉̠͔̺̝̬̫̙̜͇̩̫̗̯͈̰͛̑̓͒̄̒̔̽͌̄̊̎͛̊̈́̊̅̒̉͑̊̀͐̑̑̽̅̍̊͗̒̊͘̚̚͘̚̚͜͝͝͠ͅh̶̨̧͇͕͚̪̠̯̬͙̠̠̮̳̮̝͙̙̟̬͚̰͊̎̇̏̐̎̔̋̔̎̓̀̓̾̆̽̒̅͑͌̀̿̅̌̒̄͐̈́̈́̍̕͘̕̚͜͜͜͝͝å̵̧̢̛̤͕̺͕̩͉̪͚̗̤͙͈͍͉̪̩̬̫͔̊͐͐͛̿͋͗̓͐̅͆̏͋̽̓͛̎͂̐͂̾̓̿̆̀̇̕̕͝͝͝͠ͅͅc̵̛̫̙̲̞̱͕͗̉̈́̏̍͆̌͌̅͊͂́̿̈́̈́̐̍̌̂̋̑̊̏̑͋͆͑̀͗̈́̎̀̃̀̀͠͝ȩ̴̥̮͇̬͙̫̻̤̱̏̓̌̿̇̅̾̂̎̊̈̀̾̈́̒͘͝͝r̸̨̨̨̢̛͙̻͔͇̞͓̼̟̥͚̬̼̜͈͎͍̝̤̳̰̯̦̪̫͖̺̮͇͎̯̰̫̭͕͔̜͍̃̋̄̒̑́̎̂̈́̆͂̍̿̀̐͊̉͌̈́̅̇̃͛̀͜͝͝ ̴̧̡̧̙̺̦̗̖̥̳̯̞̤̩̥̼̪̺̟̘̹̤̱͇̰̯͖̦̙͓͉̄́̂̓͊̑̀̍̒̓̄͗̏͐̌̐͆͌̔͂͊̓͆́͂͑̆̒̄̿͌̏̏̈́̓́̓̾̐̀͘͠͝ͅe̴̼̙̟͇͉̫̥̫͍͈̎͐́̀͌͊͘s̴̢̢̛͉͖̘̍̐̊͒̑͂̂͌̊̉͂́̄̃̀̚̚͝ͅṭ̸̡̖͇̳̫͔͉͚͓̤̠̪̟̗̼̩̝͈̘̞̘͚̬̺͍͓͈̲͔̠̻̦͖̱̪͈͎͚̫͈͐̓̀̈́͌͂́̐̏͆͌͑̃̎̐́̀͐̓̒̓̕ö̴̺͎̹̟̻͙̜̜̻̬̬̭̣̻̠̖͓͇̮̘̺̫̰͔͇̙̹̤̲̲͔͍͓̹̮̬̖̟͓͔͖̰͔́͜-̶̼͙̜͈̽̈̂̉̑̌-̷̧̡̨͇̱̝̦̟̞̤͈̠̬̤̻͔̭̘̞̗̣͕̮͍̜̮̺̘͊̋͐́̇̓”̵̨̧͓̟̺̙̱̱̖̞̝̮̪̮͈̙͗̓̊͛̾͆̍͂̽̐̌͛͂̑̾̈́̈́̈̅̍̓͂̈́̀͊̅̈͑̈́̈́̿̊̕͘̕͠͝






A loud crack, almost like it was at the back of her skull, and she could almost feel the glass. Then, a final grunt, someone gasping for air and then more weeping. It made her feel sick. So sick to her stomach. The sound was useless. The sound didn’t do anything, it just made everything more annoying, more awful,

it was nothing,
it might as well have done nothing.​

But there was something strange about all of it, because she somehow could feel it wasn’t her. Maybe the past her? Maybe. But it in her heart, in her mind,

She knew it hadn’t been her. But there was something else, wasn’t there?

Had that been……...her voice?

Finally, Sol began to feel the fog’s weight lift off her chest, the more steps she and Wolfe took. She drew in a shaky breath, giving Wolfe’s hand a final squeeze. She didn’t let go as she looked around them, noticing how the sky they could see had gotten darker.

It was so odd, it was as if the fog superseded whatever she felt had kept her afloat earlier. She only then began to feel the warmth surround her and she hoped that Wolfe felt it too. The woman deserved a calming of the nerves.

But how long had they been going for?

Sol looked forward and was intrigued by the faint lights, further ahead. Almost forgetting Wolfe was with her for a moment, she continued forward, out of the forest, bringing the brunette with her. Surprisingly, her hand didn’t feel clammy, but to make sure Wolfe had the space to process, she did let go once they got closer in. Sol still chose to keep her hand nearby, in case Wolfe needed to be anchored again.

“I think there’s more to explore here. Follow me when you’re ready, okay?”

She kept on, to the archway, entranced by the intricate detailing. It was gorgeous. If there wasn’t music and lights calling her attention, she would have stayed, just admiring the artwork. But as she looked down, Sol saw the rest of the village in its splendor.

"It’s like a Shinto shrine.”

Sol could almost cry. She was pleasantly surprised to see Silque, much calmer than she’d been when she’d ran into the fog earlier. Sol was tempted to give her a hug, since the relief she felt was enormous, for once, but she kept it to a big smile, respecting the other woman’s space, especially after she had probably gone through a jarring experience, much like the one Sol had dealt with.

“You had me worried there, Silque. I'm happy you're okay.”

What if that meant Will was okay, too? Another positive thought, in all of this.

Speaking of. Sol was confused on how their numbers had dwindled so. She didn’t see Rowan, or Luca...she didn’t see the man in beige - Snake - or Puck, or even Mono. There were others missing, too, ones she hadn’t gotten the names of before the fog had separated them.

How was this happening?

She just had to hope they were all alive, somewhere else.

Sol watched, and was amused for the first time in what felt like ages, as the younger blonde she’s met earlier attempted to speak with one of the villagers, further down, but the amusement turned to curiosity as the dancer moved away from her touch. How odd.

Sol realized that all the villagers, all of the dancers, all had masks, as she headed down the stairs to get closer to the party. And although they didn’t look at her in her eyes, she could feel their stares, as if she was out of place.

Confirming how she already felt, even before they’d moved through the fog.

“All I wanted to know was where they’ve possibly gotten these adorable little masks. Perhaps a teddy and a firework or two.”

Sol felt herself empathizing with her.

“We just need to try a different approach. Those masks are cute....”

Cute, and necessary, maybe. Maybe the villagers would see them differently if they wore masks like the rest of them. Maybe that was the secret. There was more, but first, they absolutely needed to be able to speak to these….

These…weren’t people, were they?

”Let’s…get together, see who we still have left. Then maybe we can find an idea for getting them. For some reason….”

She could hear the ends of the villagers’ whispers. Nothing solid.

”I don’t think we should split up too much out here.”

[/div][/div][/div][div class=rightBanner][div class=mainPic][/div][div class=quote]Are you really as good as you think you are?[/div][div class=tagBox]S O L - T H E S U N
location: forest -> village with a festival
mood: w̴̨̢̡͚͉̼̣̹̝͍̦̦̝̩̯̜̏̌̓̇̋̀͊̏͝h̵̨̡̡̢̤͖̺̗̹̺̠̤̬̥͚̜̣̏̾̓̔̽̔͗͛̄̓͗̊y̴̨̜͐̓̑͌͐ ̴̢͙̱̣̺̥̹͎̻̮̥̪͈̳̐̒̊̂̈́́̊̒͆̍͜ͅd̴̡̡̪͙͉̗̙̱̙͉͉͓͇̼͗̌͜i̸̡̤̺͊̏̽̏̂̃́͆ḑ̵̧̝͎̥̮̯͖̝̼̯͉̌̍̈́́͌̔͆́͗̈̚n̸͚̖̺̠͎͚̭͖͉͇͈̘̯̫̜̾̍͛̌̀̿͐̑͘'̶̡̡̜̱̖̪͍̙̰̪̹͍̳͎͌̅͋̆̅̋̽̀̆̀̋̐͛͋͒͘͜͠t̵̗͎̫̩͙̗͙̯̳̘̀̎͂͑̊̈́͜͠ ̴̢̱̙̭̅̐̅͂̆͂̆Į̷̧̛̫̫̝̮̝̈́͌̀̋̍͒̆̾͊̈̕̕ ̴̨̢̢̜͇̤̻̣̺͈̙̰̥͍̆̅͐́̅̽̈́́̔̏͒͆̚͝d̶̡̩̰̙̥̮̙̫̜̣͚̊́́̚r̶̡̭̟̳̋̓̐͠o̸̢̡̡͇͎̫͈̩̤̯̜̦̳̗̹̗͌ẅ̶̧̨̲̳͚̥̣̣̳̮͉́̆͊̔́͗̿́͜n̴̦͉͉̤̰̱̫̗͒̇̀́ ▶
tags: Hextremus , izayoiix , Pretzel Heart , Beleth
[/div][/div][/div]

code by RI.a

[class=mainCon] margin:auto;center; min-width:200px; max-width:730px; padding:1.6em; display:flex; flex-wrap:wrap; justify-content:center; --color1:#FFFFFF; --color2:#000000; --color3:#ffa100; --img1:url('https://78.media.tumblr.com/ba940445d324d1275f6b35140fff20f5/tumblr_n6ualpSApz1s33l97o1_500.gif'); --img2:url('https://static1.squarespace.com/static/53db013fe4b0d9bb55469318/t/53eaaeffe4b05704d2762db1/1407889165545/Tsunami'); background:var(--img2); background-size:125%; [/class] [class=contentWrap] min-width:200px; max-width:400px; height:60vh; background:var(--color2); border:5px solid var(--color1); overflow:hidden; [/class] [class=scrollWrap] width:103%; height:60vh; overflow:scroll; [/class] [class=textWrap] width:90%; text-align:left; padding:1.1em; font-family:Josefin Sans; font-size:1em; color:var(--color1); [/class] [class=rightBanner] display:flex; flex-wrap:wrap; justify-content:center; min-width:200px; max-width:300px; height:calc(60vh + 10px); padding-left:1em; [/class] [class name=rightBanner maxWidth=900px] padding-left:0em; padding-top:1em; [/class] [class=mainPic] width:100%; height:200px; background:var(--img1); background-size:cover; background-postion:top; border:5px solid var(--color1); align-self:flex-start; [/class] [class=quote] width:100%; text-align:center; font-familyacifico; font-size:1.8em; color:var(--color3); text-shadow:4px 4px 2px var(--color2); [/class] [class=tagBox] width:100%; height:14vh; background:var(--color2); text-align:center; padding:0.8em; color:var(--color1); font-family:Josefin Sans; font-size:1em; align-self:flex-end; overflow: auto; [/class]

 

[Hextremus]

MONOTHE HANGED MAN

"WHAT DID I JUST SAY!?"

The howl tore itself free from Mono's throat, the young man's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates as he bore witness to Silque plunging into the wall of fog after Will. Complete disregard... Mono couldn't believe she'd disregarded his words so simply.

Mono almost delved into a coughing fit as seemingly everyone began setting off into the fog like bloody lemmings over a cliff. His hands raised and clamped down on either side of his head, thin digits trapping his wild hair as they curled into fists.

"Why. Why won't you listen to me. I only said I'd speak fondly at Will's funeral, not at everyone else's. What the hell."

He muttered the words more to himself than to anyone else as he bore witness to fog swallowing up all these people. People that he barely knew, granted, but people he expected to listen to him if only a little bit.

Oh. The fog was getting really close. Maybe that was why.

Mono couldn't stop himself from slowly backing up, away from the encroaching fog. His already rapidly beating heart began to thunder, a roar in his ears like a metronome marking the time until he too would have to go against his own words and enter the fog.

"No - nonono. I don't want to. This can't... oh god."

This couldn't be happening. Why was he even here, being forced to go through this? If he went into that fog, that fear that had struck him before would return with a vengeance. The thundering in his ears was so loud he couldn't even hear his own breathing. Hell, the people still around him could probably hear the pounding of his heart, a jackhammer drilling its way out of his chest.

Well, wasn't that a charming image?

Mono sucked in a trembling breath and wiped the back of his hand over his lips, rolling his neck and cracking his knuckles. If he had to enter that fog, he decided he might as well do so with dignity. He glanced around at the few people still remaining in the clearing, eyes narrowed.

"Right. I'll be off now, then. See you on the other side."

He forced the tremble out of his voice and adjusted the cuffs of his jacket before beginning his stride towards the wall of smoke, the same wall into which several had disappeared. Right before he came into contact with the grasping fingers of fog, he stopped. Lips pursed, one hand reached into the front of the sash tied around his waist and extracted that picture he'd discovered before. His eyes scanned the face of the girl, and this seemed to be enough to calm him. If only slightly. With a quiet sigh accompanied by the picture's return to the sash, he broke into a run and disappeared like everyone before him. The last those still in the clearing saw of him was the silhouette of his jacket, trailing behind him like a cape.

It almost surprised Mono how quickly his vision failed him, unable to see anything other than a sea of milky white. He'd taken a deep breath and clamped his lips together just before he'd plunged into the fog, holding his breath to ward off the effects of the assumed chemical that surrounded him for as long as he could.

It wasn't very long.

Mono sucked in a heavy breath far too soon, the young man's frame apparently highly unused to physical exertion like the flat-out sprinting he was forcing himself to commit to. The moment the breath raked its way down his throat and into his lungs marked a noticeable shift in... everything.

It was quiet.

So, so quiet.

Mono couldn't suppress a whimper. It was the only noise he could hear, and even it was dampened and muffled. He was being smothered by the silence and nothingness surrounding him.

Was he even alive anymore? Was this some twisted hell, an afterlife constructed solely for him and him alone?

I'M SORRY

The words were all around him and yet only within his head, in his ears and yet not. He forced himself to keep running, feet and lungs burning like a star, the words inside and outside him incessant companions.

I'M SORRY FOR YOUR LOSS

What loss? Why was this happening to him? Who had he been before Mono to warrant this? It wasn't fair. He didn't even know who he was anymore, why was he being-

I'M SO SORRY, NO ONE KNEW SHE FELT THAT WAY

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!"

Mono howled, a guttural cry of distress. His hands reached up and clamped down over his ears as he ran, eyes squeezing tightly shut to replace a field of white with a field of black. Defence mechanisms, an exercise in futility as the voices continued to pierce his very being. His eyes were quick to open... but too late nonetheless.

He let loose an involuntary gasp of pain as his left shoulder and arm slammed into the tree at full speed. The left side of his body was jerked to a sudden halt while his right continued forward, causing him to twist painfully and crash to the ground in a spray of soil, grass, and splinters of tree bark.

The young man was standing again almost instantly, adrenaline rushing through his veins and enabling his scramble back to his feet. His right hand gently cradled his left shoulder, heavy breaths infused with pain. His gaze darted around, searching the endless void of white, trying to reorient himself after his tumble. Which way had he been running? Damn this fog-

A low, manic giggle from behind.

Mono froze. The hair on the back on his neck stood on end, a jolt of electricity blasting through his body and rooting him to the spot. The voices in his head had lowered to whispers, a constant noice in the back of his head as it slowly turned so his wild eyes could look over his shoulder. What greeted him was the silhouette of a man, just barely visible in the fog. Mono sucked in a breath and forced himself to turn around fully, taking a small step back away from the spectre. The figure could barely be made out; all Mono could tell for sure was it appeared human, wearing a lengthy coat with hands tucked away inside its pockets.

"Who... the fuck... are you?"

Mono's broken voice was barely a whisper as it leaked out from between his dry, cracked lips. The figure emitted that same manic giggle before responding.

"Good question, Mono. How are you feeling?"

The voice was familiar. Incredibly familiar as it dragged out Mono's moniker, emphasising it, insulting it. It extracted its hands from its pockets as it spoke, sweeping them in extravagant gestures to accompany its words.

"Wha... are you the one behind this? Why are you-"

"Oh, come now, Mono. Do I look like a ringleader to you?"

"What? I don't even know what you-"

"Shut up, please. I just thought I'd take my chance to say hi to my love before... well, spoilers."

Love?

"Who the hell are you? Explain yourself!"

"Sorry, can't do that! Look on the bright side; no matter how bad things seem, it could always be worse!"

Optimism? Pep talk? Now? From this... coward that refused to step forward and reveal itself to Mono? Who was stepping backwards, disappearing back into the fog from where it had come from.

"Bastard... I'll- I'LL KILL YOU!"

The roar surprised Mono, the pure primal rage of it as he charged forward, right arm drawing back in preparation to throw a punch. His vision ran red now. The form had returned to the fog, but as Mono stepped forward it came back into view.

He threw the punch. Felt it connect with the silhouette.

Only it wasn't the feeling he expected.

Another howl ripped free from his throat, his vocal chords erupting with pain. Agony rushed up his arm and he staggered backwards, left hand clutching his right wrist. Blood dripped onto the grass below as he looked up at the form he'd punched.

It was a tree. The same tree he'd slammed into before that figure had appeared. In his rage he'd failed to realise the profile of the form he'd targeted looked nothing like that of the thing that had spoken to him.

The flames that had been Mono's rage returned to mere embers, extinguished by the fear that returned in full force. He turned and ran, away from the tree and away from the spectre that had tricked him. Away from the haunting giggle that echoed from the fog behind him.

All he could feel was pain. Pain in his legs and lungs, pain in his left shoulder, severe pain in his right hand. But soon even those dulled.

He was nothing and everything. There was ground beneath him and there was water and there was air. There was eternal silence and there was boundless roaring. It took years and it took nanoseconds.

I don't want to go to the light.

Help me. I don't want to die.

Save me.

SAVE ME

And just like that, the fog was no more. He kept running regardless, only stopping when he began coughing heavily. He collapsed to his knees and braced his forearm against some object beside where he had fallen, hyperventilating and salivating as his head dropped. A wilted flower.

Mono eventually regained enough self control to steady his breathing and regain his ability to swallow, eyes slowly opening. He glanced over at the object he'd braced his arm against; grey stone. An upright slab. Was this a grave?

Oh. It was.

He couldn't bring himself to move. He re-positioned himself and slumped backwards so he leaned against the thin side of the grave marker, too weak to lean against the face of it. He didn't bother reading the inscription as of yet, taking in his surroundings as he thanked all the gods that he was still alive. From what he could tell he'd emerged from the fog into a large graveyard, variation in the scenery manifesting as a single massive tree off in the distance.

Mono bowed his head again, staring down at the dirt he sat on. The grass between his feet was wilder than the grass had been in the clearing. That was ridiculous in and of itself; was someone or something maintaining the grass in the clearing? That couldn't be right.

He found himself chuckling quietly at his random train of thought before falling silent once more, closing his eyes. He could have fallen asleep right there and then if he'd really wanted too, drifted to sleep accompanied by the relief of being alive.

That wouldn't do. He instead settled for a rest, slumped against a gravestone with splinters of wood embedded in his fingers from where they'd impacted against the tree.

Blood continued to drip onto the grass.

Ω​

 

[cinnabuns]

G r o u p Ω

[div class=mainCon][div class=contentWrap][div class=scrollWrap][div class=textWrap]
All work and no play makes Puck a dull boy.

Hmm? Where had that come from?

Puck pulled Quill up - the man was...a bit lighter than he'd expected - while watching as Will walked headfirst into the fog.

Wow, the first interesting thing since he'd woken up. He'd have to commend the boy if he came out the other side alive. Puck could feel the tension in the air change, however, due to Will's actions. The fighting had stopped, at least. It was amazing that it took someone giving themselves up to the darkness for the group to have some focus, but hey. Whatever worked.

He then watched as Silque seemed to lose her mind, in real time, right next to him. His eyes widened for just a moment, until he saw her dash into the fog herself.

It was something that interested him more than it probably should have. So when the fog surrounded them shortly after, he found himself walking in, his hand still on Quill's.

Puck should have feared the fog, but instead, he felt acceptance. It felt natural, being surrounded by such darkness. He wished he knew why that was. He wished it made absolute sense to him. The thing that made him feel off wasn't the fog. What made him feel off was the inability to recall what his memories were. How could he feel comfortable when he had no idea what his normal even was?

All work and no play makes Puck a very dull boy.

There it was again. Whatever that sound was. Puck thought for a moment that maybe it had been Quill, but that couldn't be true. It wasn't the same voice, not in the slightest.

Speaking of Quill. Puck had no idea why he started to feel off again, but he soon pinpointed the source, that made his skin feel rough, and like static. It was because he was still touching someone's hand.

It wasn't Quill's fault in particular. Puck recognized that. But regardless.

He wanted to let go.

But he couldn't. He couldn't leave Quill to fend for himself.

Could he?

Very, very, dull boy. You bore me.

Let's have a riddle.

"Oh my god, what happened?"

"I didn't mean to--please, I didn't mean to, don't tell them!"

Two different voices. One he somehow recognized, in the back of his mind. It felt familiar; sad, upset, almost in tears, but familiar. The other voice was - a child? Also in tears.

What was it about tears that made the itch he felt holding Quill's hand worse?

"He was going to shoot you."

"Didn't mean to? Evidence proves otherwise."

Very matter-of-a-fact voices. Whoever the responders were, they were sure of themselves, something Puck related to.

You can always find me in the past. I can be created in the present, but the future can never taint me. What am I?

"No, he just wanted to talk--"

"He had a gun, he was raising it to you. are you really feeling bad for him?"

What am I?

"It won't happen again! don't you understand?! They'll kill me! This can't get out!"

"Should've thought about that before, hm?"

What am I, Puck?

The answer was on the tip of his tongue, just like the feeling of dread, just like that feeling of static that continued to run through him. God, he hated it.

"What did you do?"

"I protected you, obviously."

Who was this?

So dull. Answer me, now.

"History."

Puck still had no idea who he was speaking to.

His hand itched, his whole arm felt inflamed. He couldn't do this much longer.

That is correct. Unfortunate.

I would have rather you'd gotten it wrong. Oh well. There is always

Next

Time

Next time?

Puck felt relieved when the fog began to dwindle, and the two made their way out of the forest. As soon as it was clear, Puck let go of Quill's hand. He just needed some space, some time without any touching. Maybe he'd had a problem with it in his history - was that the point of that riddle? Was it intertwined with what he'd heard?

Surprisingly, the more thoughts that ran through his head, the worse the static got. So once again, instead of thinking, instead of speaking, Puck just observed, monitoring his breath.

Were they in a graveyard?

Puck gave Quill a soft look, one of confusion, not willing to add more of that crackling, hissing feeling he felt under his skin. He looked back at the graveyard, and he felt his feet move towards the stones.

Married...?

Puck continued along the path, feeling the static inside him ebb away slowly the more he distracted himself with what was in front of him. Another relief, because his curiosity was piqued once more. Had this place been outside of the forest the entire time?That tree, too? Or had the fog--

More static. Shit. Keep the thoughts to a minimum.

Puck was surprised as he noticed Will, noticed Lucre, and then stopped when he saw the one named Mono, with a bleeding hand, leaning against one of the graves he had been looking at.

Blood is interesting.

Puck could feel that it was a bad idea to stay, but he had to have something to aid Mono. Why did he want to aid him, anyway?

Dull.

Puck searched through his pockets, all of them. There had to be something. So dull.

His eyes lightened as he pulled out....some bandages? He stared at the object in his hands, noting then, and only then, that he himself was wearing a bunch of bandages. His other hand, his fingers grazed over the material, but something told him it wouldn't be a good idea to remove his own, just yet. Unless you like pain.

Puck placed the bandages on Mono's leg, wincing slightly as the static came back at the touch. He was sorry he couldn't offer more assistance, but he hated the static. Puck leaned up, continuing on. The more time to took to himself, the less the interaction, the worse it got. He couldn't handle it.

Puck finally found himself at the tree - a nice walk, which definitely helped to clear his head. Finally, the feeling was gone. When he got a glimpse of Rowan, he feared that the feeling would come back.

However, the crackling had left his bones. Puck swallowed down the fear and cleared his throat, not wanting to scare the brunette as he kept his eyes on the tree, on the rope, on the symbols carved in the bark. Finally, he noticed the hole at the bottom of the wood, near the roots.

"Would you like to go in first, Miss Rowan?"

[/div][/div][/div][div class=rightBanner][div class=mainPic][/div][div class=quote]Are you thinking straight?[/div][div class=tagBox]P U C K THE MAGICIAN
location: the village with no people
mood: shhhhhh. now this is getting interesting. ▶
tags: @Lettuce , Hextremus , FoldedPages
[/div][/div][/div]

code by RI.a

[class=mainCon] margin:auto;center; min-width:200px; max-width:730px; padding:1.6em; display:flex; flex-wrap:wrap; justify-content:center; --color1:#FFFFFF; --color2:#000000; --color3:#00e68a; --img1:url('https://media1.tenor.com/images/3df442f3b79d43384d3b5b21b314dee0/tenor.gif?itemid=5584964'); --img2:url('data:image/jpeg;base64,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'); background:var(--img2); background-size:15%; [/class] [class=contentWrap] min-width:200px; max-width:400px; height:60vh; background:var(--color2); border:5px solid var(--color1); overflow:hidden; [/class] [class=scrollWrap] width:103%; height:60vh; overflow:scroll; [/class] [class=textWrap] width:90%; text-align:left; padding:1.1em; font-family:Josefin Sans; font-size:1em; color:var(--color1); [/class] [class=rightBanner] display:flex; flex-wrap:wrap; justify-content:center; min-width:200px; max-width:300px; height:calc(60vh + 10px); padding-left:1em; [/class] [class name=rightBanner maxWidth=900px] padding-left:0em; padding-top:1em; [/class] [class=mainPic] width:100%; height:200px; background:var(--img1); background-size:cover; background-postion:top; border:5px solid var(--color1); align-self:flex-start; [/class] [class=quote] width:100%; text-align:center; font-familyacifico; font-size:1.5em; color:var(--color3); text-shadow:4px 4px 2px var(--color2); [/class] [class=tagBox] width:100%; height:16vh; background:var(--color2); text-align:center; padding:0.8em; color:var(--color1); font-family:Josefin Sans; font-size:1em; align-self:flex-end; overflow: auto; [/class]

 

[FoldedPages]

g r o u p Ω

.

[class=fyuri04wrapper] max-width:450px; min-height:600px; margin:30px auto; background: #272e38; border-radius: 5px 5px 5px 5px; -moz-border-radius: 5px 5px 5px 5px; -webkit-border-radius: 5px 5px 5px 5px; overflow:hidden; -webkit-box-shadow: 0px 0px 40px 7px rgba(0,0,0,0.32); -moz-box-shadow: 0px 0px 40px 7px rgba(0,0,0,0.32); box-shadow: 0px 0px 40px 7px rgba(0,0,0,0.32); padding:115px 0px 35px 0px; [/class] [class=fyuri04mid] position:relative; width:100%; min-height:600px; background-color:#efefef; padding-bottom:10px; [/class] [class=fyuri04parent] display: block; position:relative; top:-60px; z-index:5; width:90%; min-height:500px; margin:0px auto -60px auto; background-color:#fff; padding:10px; text-align:justify; color:#313131; font-size:13px; [/class] [class=fyuri04headerleft] text-align:left; margin:-10px 0px -15px 0px; font=Shadows Into Light; font-size:30px; color:#313131; padding-left:10px; [/class] [class=fyuri04headerright] padding-right:10px; margin:-10px 0px -15px 0px; text-align:right; font-family: 'Lato', Lato Thin; font-size:10px; color:#313131; [/class] [class=fyurir04imagebox] display:inline; text-align:center; pointer-events:none; [/class] [class=fyuri04boxleft] padding:5px 10px 5px 5px; max-height: 400px; [/class] [class=fyuri04credit] position:relative; top:-5px; max-width:450px; margin:auto; opacity:0.3; font-size:10px; [/class]
[div class=fyuri04wrapper][div class=fyuri04mid][div class=fyuri04parent][div class=fyurir04imagebox]

[/div]
[div class=fyuri04headerleft]T h e [ W o r l d ][/div]

[div class=fyuri04boxleft]
What was this place?

A squall of emotions swelled and flailed inside of Rowan: confusion, alarm, dread, and sensations she could not quite put a name to. The air was stagnant, dense, and nearly intolerable. Even breathing in deeply, her abdomen rising and falling with the movement, Rowan grew more anxious that her lungs were not filling with enough oxygen. Despite the listless and still atmosphere, the tiny hairs on her arms and neck stood erect as she stared up into the limbs of the tree. One look at a threadbare rope had elicited this type of response? Rowan, with her head extended, fixated on the limbs of the tree were the thread had descended.

A tree so considerable reminded Rowan just how insignificant and minute she was in this world. Was she even in the same world she once knew? What even was this world? This product of mother nature had rooted itself within the earth long before Rowan had ever taken her first steps on soil and would transcend long after Rowan would take her last steps.

Her jaw tightened, teeth grinding against each other. The thought of immortality initiated the woman to clench her fists together, embedding crescent-shaped marks in her palm from the sheer force. In her stupor, Rowan had failed to sense another body approaching the surrounding area. Thankfully, they had cleared their throat, dragging her out of her thoughts. Keeping her head towards the tree, Rowan side-glanced in the direction the sound came from.

The man with the bandages.

Puck - he had called himself Puck. Amber irises studied the man underneath the muted moonlight that highlighted his towering build. His hair, an exceptional Céladon hue, stood out against their barren environment, bringing color - and a certain luster - back into such a dull setting.

"Would you like to go in first, Miss Rowan?"

Her face scrunched in response to his question. It was not until she shifted her body to face him, and followed his gaze did she finally notice the opening at the base of the enormous tree. The hole was unnatural - most likely manmade - and wholly intriguing. How had she missed this in her initial critique of the tree?

Her eyes warily stirred from the opening to Puck. She was somewhat cautious, though curious, towards the man. In the initial clearing, he had not spoken up much except for an inquisitive question and more or less factual information - keeping mostly subjective thoughts to himself. He had, however, helped another fascinating man up after their revival. He did also share her uneasiness about the fog and the will to survive. Maybe she could trust him - for now. She was not completely defenseless, having her syringe. He may be tall, but Rowan concluded her smaller stature would most likely help her nimbly avoid an attack.

After careful consideration, and going over possible scenarios in her mind, Rowan nodded her head to Puck. "Alright, I'll go first," She stated, maneuvering so her feet pointed towards the opening. Though she was petite, entering the cavity would be an uncomfortable fit. Discernibly swallowing, she descended to her knees, and then onto all fours. She tentatively inched into the hollow, stopping halfway to examine what was before her.

"What the hell," Rowan breathed, her hands and knees propelling off the soil until she was able to stand within the tree. Cool dirt clung to her joints and shins before she scraped off the unwanted substance. While waiting for Puck to join her, she absorbed what was in the curious space. Walking to a bejeweled slab, Rowan's slender fingers reached to touch the mount. Right before they collided, she pulled back with uncertainty. As if rooted into the ground like the very tree she was standing within, Rowan stood unmoving. A faint shine seized her attention. Unbeknownst to her, she found her amber irises echoing true amber gems engraved into the trunk of the tree. They shone even within the dark of the space, illuminating an appalling being with hair like contorted branches - a woman (?) donned in beetles and moss. Something deep inside Rowan whispered to her, pleading for her to crawl back out. Still, she ignored her own pleas, waiting.

[div class=fyuri04headerright]Interactions: cinnabuns

[div class=fyuri04credit]code by @Fyuri[/div][/div][/div][/div][/div][/div]

 

[BluEndings]

[class=gradFortune] display:inline; background: -webkit-linear-gradient(#4286AF, #06D3D7); -webkit-background-clip: text; -webkit-text-fill-color: transparent; [/class] [class=gradLove] display:inline; background: -webkit-linear-gradient(#6D1C1C, #DD3581); -webkit-background-clip: text; -webkit-text-fill-color: transparent; [/class] [class=gradFear] display:inline; background: -webkit-linear-gradient(#3E2F60, #9257B2); -webkit-background-clip: text; -webkit-text-fill-color: transparent; [/class] [class=gradBlood] display:inline; background: -webkit-linear-gradient(#003826, #569E85); -webkit-background-clip: text; -webkit-text-fill-color: transparent; [/class] [class=container] height: 100%; width: 100%; overflow: hidden; font-size: 16px; [/class] [class=scroll] padding: 2%; height: 300px; width: 98%; overflow-y: scroll; padding-right: 25px; box-sizing: content-box; [/class] [class name=menuButtonWrapper] [/class] [class name=menuButtonFortune] cursor: pointer; display: inline-block; text-align: center; [/class] [class name=menuButtonLove] cursor: pointer; display: inline-block; text-align: center; [/class] [class name=title] width: 100%; height: 35px; margin: auto; border-style: solid; border-color: black; border-width: 0px 0px 2px 0px; text-align: center; font-size: 20px; [/class] [class name=hover state=hover] -webkit-transform: scale(1.2); [/class] [class name=hoverS state=hover] -webkit-transform: scale(3.75); color: red; [/class] [class name=hoverF state=hover] -webkit-transform: scale(0.8); [/class] [class name=tabName] display: none; [/class] [class=sins] margin-top: 0px; border-width: 2px 0px 0px 0px; [/class] [script class="menuButtonFortune" version=2] (= currentTabFortune "oneFortune") (hide "twoFortune") (hide "threeFortune") [/script] [script class="menuButtonFortune" on=click version=2] (fadeOut 150 currentTabFortune) (= currentTabFortune (trim (index (split (getText) "TAB") 0)))(setTimeout 0.5 (fadeIn 150 currentTabFortune)) [/script] [script class="menuButtonLove" version=2] (= currentTabLove "oneLove") (hide "twoLove") (hide "threeLove") [/script] [script class="menuButtonLove" on=click version=2] (fadeOut 150 currentTabLove) (= currentTabLove (trim (index (split (getText) "TAB") 0)))(setTimeout 0.5 (fadeIn 150 currentTabLove)) [/script] [script class=AddPanic on=click] addClass cardPanic cardFortune [/script] [script class=RemovePanic on=click] removeClass cardPanic cardFortune [/script] [animation=heartbeat] [keyframe=0] transform: scale(.75); [/keyframe] [keyframe=20] transform: scale(1); [/keyframe] [keyframe=40] transform: scale(.75); [/keyframe] [keyframe=60] transform: scale(1); [/keyframe] [keyframe=80] transform: scale(.75); [/keyframe] [keyframe=100] transform: scale(.75); [/keyframe] [/animation] [animation=clickme] [keyframe=0] color: white; [/keyframe] [keyframe=20] color: #4286AF; [/keyframe] [keyframe=40] color: white; [/keyframe] [keyframe=60] color: #4286AF; [/keyframe] [keyframe=80] color: white; [/keyframe] [keyframe=100] color: white; [/keyframe] [/animation] [animation=fogPulse] [keyframe=20] box-shadow: 2px 2px 6px #ffffff, -2px -2px 6px #ffffff; [/keyframe] [keyframe=40] box-shadow: 2px 2px 12px #ffffff, -2px -2px 12px #ffffff; [/keyframe] [keyframe=60] box-shadow: 2px 2px 6px #ffffff, -2px -2px 6px #ffffff; [/keyframe] [keyframe=80] box-shadow: 2px 2px 12px #ffffff, -2px -2px 12px #ffffff; [/keyframe] [keyframe=100] box-shadow: 2px 2px 6px #ffffff, -2px -2px 6px #ffffff; [/keyframe] [/animation] [class=table] display: table; clear: both; margin: 0 auto; width: 45%; [/class] [class=cardContainer] float: left; padding: 2%; width: 96%; [/class] [class name="card"] width: 100%; margin: auto; padding: 4%; background-size: cover; background-position: center; border-radius: 25px; box-sizing: border-box; border: 1px solid black; [/class] [class=indicator] [/class] [class=cardFortune] background-image: url('https://i.imgur.com/H9qWpbp.jpg'); box-shadow: 2px 2px 6px #06D3D7, -2px -2px 6px #06D3D7; color: #cce1e5; transition: background-image 2s, box-shadow 2s; [/class] [class=cardPanic] background-image: url('https://i.imgur.com/DTOz0bS.gif'); box-shadow: 2px 2px 6px #ffffff, -2px -2px 6px #ffffff; animation: {post_id}fogPulse 4s linear 0s infinite; [/class] [class=cardLove] background-image: url('https://i.imgur.com/L5v5Fl6.jpg'); box-shadow: 2px 2px 6px #DD3581, -2px -2px 6px #DD3581; color: #e2d8cc; [/class] [class=cardInner] width: 100%; min-height: 402px; margin: auto; border: 2px solid black; background-color:rgb(0,0,0,0.8); background-position: center; background-size:cover; [/class] [class=musicWrapper] [/class] [class=musicContainer] max-width: 267px; height: 30px; overflow: hidden; border: 0 solid black; border-radius: 10px; margin: auto; [/class] [class name=musicContainer maxWidth=400px] display: none; [/class] [class=musicInner] margin-top: -335px; margin-left: -238px; [/class] [class=footer] width: 100%; min-width: 267px; text-align: center; display: flex; align-items: center; justify-content: center; [/class] [class=footerText] font-size: 12px; width: 100%; [/class] [class=footerFortune] background-color:rgb(0,120,225,0.4); [/class] [class=footerAlt] background-color:rgb(0,0,0,0.4); [/class] [class=footerLove] background-color:rgb(255,0,120,0.4); [/class] [class=pic] pointer-events: none; max-width: 100%; height: auto; width: 38%; float: left; [/class] [class=summaryContent] width: 60%; float: left; [/class] [class=statusIcon] font-size: 16px; padding: 1% width: 0px; margin-top: -36px; padding-bottom: 8px; [/class] [class=beatNormal] animation: {post_id}heartbeat 1.5s infinite; [/class] [class=beatFast] animation: {post_id}heartbeat 1s infinite; [/class] [class=beatVeryFast] animation: {post_id}heartbeat 0.5s infinite; [/class] [class=beatSuperFast] animation: {post_id}heartbeat 0.25s infinite; [/class] [class name=statusIcon maxWidth=400px] display: none [/class] [class=arrow] overflow: hidden; border: none; [/class] [class=panic] background: transparent; border: none; animation: {post_id}clickme 5s infinite; cursor: pointer; [/class] [class=panicText] color: white; [/class] [class=fog] text-align: center; font-size: 35px; [/class] [class=blood] color: red; [/class] [div class="table"][div class="cardContainer"][div class="card cardFortune"][div class="cardInner"][div class="oneFortune";][div class="menuButtonWrapper title"][div class=menuButtonFortune][div class="tabName"]twoFortuneTAB[/div][div class="hover"][div class="oneFortune";][font=Acme][fa]fa-question-circle fa-pulse fa-1x[/fa] - - - [div class=gradFortune]Wheel of Fortune[/div] - - - [fa]fa-question-circle fa-pulse fa-1x[/fa][/font][/div][/div][/div][/div][/div][div class="oneFortune";][div class="container"][div class="scroll"]There was no telling whether or not Will would have carried out his potentially immoral line of thinking had he not become aware of Lucre's presence. It was an uncomfortably realization that resulted in a sudden jolt of tense muscles. His head shot back and ungracefully slammed against the stone tablet he had been examining. A word or two escaped his mouth but amounted to little more than callous gibberish.

By no means had he expected anyone to follow him. Especially not so soon. Or at least what he took for soon. His already twisted sense of time had only worsened after experiencing whatever it was the fog had offered him. Either way the details weren't important. The fact was that someone else had traversed through the fog.

She didn't look all that distraught. One might even describe her as very put together, but Will still wanted to see what information he could glean. But before he had formed a question, another had came out from the fog.

Rowan was it? Will's attention had been a bit split then, so he had an excuse if he was remembering incorrectly. She also didn't appear particularly fazed in any meaningful manner, yet she passed by the two without even a word. She had definitely seen them. Will has certain that she had laid eyes upon them, at least. But there was no acknowledgement. Not even a twitch of an eyelash. It was as if she couldn't even see them. No, more like those eyes of hers didn't even recognize the two as human beings... That thought alone was enough to quell any attempt at communication towards the woman.

Lucre had said something but Will had been preoccupied with the new arrivals. It was odd. People were trickling in, one by one. Everyone so far seemed to be absorbed in their own things. It didn't bode well for the unity of the group—if such a thing still existed. Had everything fallen apart after he left? He wanted to kick himself in the shins for being so impulsive.

It was Mono that was the most concerning. Will knew his name for sure—as they were one of the initial troublemakers—and by the looks of it they had gotten in some more trouble. The red of the blood was easy enough to see within the blurs but the splinters not so much. To Will it looked like nothing more than the result of a brawl, and he wouldn't have known any better either way.

Two more came out of the fog. [So, they weren't all solo after all.] Puck and another Will didn't recall the name of. Strange. It was now apparent that he was behind in matters of information, and that fact irritated him. His one goal had been to gather information for the betterment of the group, and all he had done was put himself in the role of the fool.

After Puck had given Mono a bandage he had moved on to following in Rowan's tracks. Those who had been essential to keeping the group together were now playing the part of the self-interested party. That is unless they had all formed a game-plan in his absence. Which is equally, if not more, likely.

"[div class=gradFortune]I'm not too sure about the year Lucre, but before we get ahead of ourselves...[/div]"

Despite his confident voice, beads of sweat embellished his trembling frame.
"[div class=gradFortune]Did any of you have trouble passing through the fog? It was a bit rough for me, even with a guiding stick.[/div]"

His gaze was locked on Mono, the once calm blue of his eyes glazed over. A chuckle escaped him, but it resonated about as much as a damp towel.

Will knew he was giving away too much with such an odd inquiry but this wasn't the kind of information he could pass up. If it costed the rest to become suspicious, then so be it. Their answers would be able to confirm or deny whether or not this was an internal or external problem. Identifying it came before all else.
[/div][/div][div class="footer footerFortune"][div class="footerText"]

Interactions: Ω
Mentions: Ω

Location: Ω
Mood: Inquisitive

[div class="statusIcon beatFast"][/div][/div][/div][/div][div class="twoFortune";][div class="menuButtonWrapper title"][div class=menuButtonFortune][div class="tabName"]oneFortuneTAB[/div][div class="hover"][div class="twoFortune";][font=Acme][fa]fa-question-circle fa-pulse far fa-1x[/fa] - - - - - - - - [div class="gradFortune"]"Will"[/div] - - - - - - - - [/font][/div][/div][/div][/div][/div][div class="twoFortune";][div class="container";][div class="scroll"][div class=summaryContent]

[div class="gradFortune"]Age: [/div]Mid Twenties

[div class="gradFortune"]Sex: [/div]Male

[div class="gradFortune"]Height: [/div]5'7"

[div class="gradFortune"]Power: [/div]Deception Perception

[div class="gradFortune"]Status: [/div]

• Very Dirty Glasses
• [Missing] Hat

[div class="gradFortune"]Inventory: [/div]

• Wheel of Fortune Card
• Tape recorder
  • AA Battery (x2)
• Wedding Ring & Box
• Hand Sanitizer

[/div][div class="pic"][/div][/div][div class="footer"][div class="footerText"][/div][/div][div class="musicWrapper"][div class="musicContainer"][div class=musicInner][/div][/div][/div][/div][/div][/div][/div][/div][/div]

 

[izayoiix]

[class=wrapper] width:80vw; max-width:300px; height:420px; margin:auto;center; flex-wrap:wrap; border:1px solid #FF6EB4; overflow:hidden; background:url('https://tse4.mm.bing.net/th?id=OIP.o7TnOZFQDPrlctW_6Ms-nwHaI4&o=5&pid=1.7'); background-size:100%; z-index:3px; [/class] [class=scroll] width:90vw; max-width:310px; height:100%; overflow-y:auto; [/class] [class=textbox] width:80vw; max-width:300px; font-family:Montserrat; font-size:12px; color:#212121; padding:2px; background: rgba(255, 110, 181, 0.9); position:relative; top:420px; [/class] [class=overlay] width:80vw; max-width:320px; margin:auto;center; position:relative; top:-461px; left:-10px; font-family:Montserrat; font-size:25px; color:#fff; text-shadow:3px 2px 0px #FF6EB4; z-index:2px; [/class] [class=tags] opacity:0.0; width:80vw; max-width:320px; margin:auto;center; position:relative; top:-490px; left:-10px; text-align:right; font-family:Montserrat; font-size:10px; color:#ccc; z-index:3px; transition: all 0.3s ease; [/class] [class name=tags state=hover] opacity:1.0; transform: translateY(20px); [/class] [class=credit] width:80vw; max-width:300px; opacity:0.5; font-family:Heebo; font-size:8px; margin:auto;center; [/class]
[div class=wrapper][div class=scroll]
[div class=textbox]

The Moon
interactions: sol ;; mentions: cinnabuns ;; team: alpha
​

"Trust me?"

"I...I do.." the brunette gulped hesitantly after a moment of staring at the offered hand in silence. The second Sol had asked her that question something in her mind screamed at her and honestly that scared her.

YES.

TRUST.

SAFE.

PROTECTION.

PROTECT.

“Just keep moving with me, Wolfe. We can do this.”

She nodded in agreement even though Sol was turned away from her as they plunged into the fog. Through the clouds in her own brain, past the words of safety and protection that were branded across her mind, she could feel the strong urging of the mysterious fog physically before her. She swallowed dryly, tightening her grip on the hand in hers, suddenly terrified of being separated. The thought of losing track of Sol seared across her soul and caused her to shiver, her grip tightening even more.

She couldn't....couldn't...she couldn't lose Sol. Wolfe didn't know what would happen to her if she did. The thoughts and emotions plaguing her ever since she woke up in that clearing scared her beyond belief and the only thing that had brought her any type of solace was the woman before her, leading her through the fog as best she could.

Solace....she closed her eyes at the word, feeling a small sense of peace fill her as an image of Sol appeared in her mind's eye. Taking a deep breath, she started to feel strength return to her shaky limbs.

Yes. She could do this. If Sol could do this, so could Wolfe. Sol wouldn't let her do this alone while Wolfe was this unsure, clearly proven by her previous actions in the clearing. She came straight to Wolfe. Somehow despite this improbable situation, the brunette knew she could move forward. As long as she had Sol with her.

She opened her eyes to the sight of cloudy white. She could barely see anything in front of her and if it wasn't for the fact that she could still feel the hand held tightly in hers, she would've thought she was alone.

Everything was quiet for a moment before she could hear the faint sound of panting. Her free hand twitched, almost as if she was trying to grip something. As they continued further in, the panting grew louder, grunts joining the harsh noise. She wasn't sure why but the sounds made her want to retreat. She hadn't heard this particular voice before, it didn't match anyone in the clearing, but...at the same time it was...so...familiar.

It made her want to hide.

At the sound of a knife quickly being drawn from a sheath, she jumped, shaking out of her mental retreat. There was a swish as the knife was yanked through the air before the squish as it sank into flesh and a cry that immediately followed.

Wolfe's own cry rang through the air before cutting off as she scrambled to gasp for air as they stumbled out of the fog. Sol spoke something to her, but she couldn't hear it. All Wolfe could hear was the blood pounding in her ears as her mind played through what she had heard, something that rang familiar and true in her being. She collapsed to her knees, fingers digging deeply into the earth as she fought to regain her breath and find her bearings.

She didn't know how long she remained there, staring at the dirt beneath her.

”I don’t think we should split up too much out here.”

It was Sol's voice that brought her out of whatever prison her mind had trapped her in. It was always Sol....

She took in a shaky breath as she slowly got to her feet and stumbled her way over to the group. She didn't notice who all was with them and where they were as she took up her spot beside Sol, hand twitching slightly, unsure if she should try to hold her hand again. She missed the security Sol had given her, but she didn't want to bother the woman helping her once again. She bit her lip before deciding against it as she looked between the smaller group of people than they'd started with.

"Wh...where are we...?"

[/div][/div][/div][div class=credit]credits @RI.a[/div][div class=overlay]W O L F E[/div][div class=tags]Location?
@mentions here[/div]