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sticksandbones2023-05-19 05:20 pm
EVENT 001: BY LANTERN LIGHT
...bring may flowers, as the rhymes go. None are so brutal as the tantrum the Woods threw upon it's defeat in the game, no lightning visibly striking the ground or targeting you when you have to step outside... in fact, most of the afflictions from the game all those nights ago have seemed to have faded, save for lingering plant friends who truly intend to overstay their welcome. And with the rain, new life springs forth: the small flowers that littered the ground sporadically grow in number, and some in size. It's a pleasant sight, even if... hm. You may not be an expert in flowers but some of these don't seem Forest-Native. And if you are an expert in flowers, then some of these definitely aren't. Alongside the wood anemone, wild geranium, and blue wood aster, there are sunflowers, poppies and jasmine flowers and more - keen eyes can also spot the sprouts of wild strawberries.
Oddly enough, Rusty seems to disapprove of some of these flowers. Because he is just digging them up when he finds them, huffing angrily when he's done. His choice almost seems random, but as time passes there are plenty of holes scattered throughout the grove. Watch your step.
Another oddity is that some of these flowers are larger than they should be. And some of those large flowers, when you reach out to touch them in your inspections, touch back - leaves or viney tendrils gently wrapping around your fingers. When you jerk your hand back, blood drips from your fingers from where the edge of the plant had turned razor sharp for just a moment as you withdrew, but the flower returns to normal. Notably, this doesn't happen with every normal or odd flower though...
Occasionally, one can hear heavy footsteps through the hallways of the inn at night, slow and steady, pausing just before a door. And then moving onto the next. Whatever the source is, it makes no effort to come in- but in the morning, every door to a room that houses someone is marked: a semi-hollow circle at the bottom with an outer barrier that holds back several diamonds, painted in red. ... It's not blood, at least, that is immediately obvious. Should you try to remove the mark, it reappears the next day, freshly painted. The magically inclined, however, can tell that this is a sigil to protect your room.
And of course no one is just going to let a heavy-footed stranger wander the halls at night after they had to fend off a wood-and-metal moosetaur. So those who step out at night to investigate will find... the Shopkeeper, carrying a bucket of rather foul-smelling paint. When questioned, he simply tells you to go back to sleep. And you do.
However, during the day, the Shopkeeper seems even more tired than usual. Why, you might even catch him dozing at his counter. Who knew shadowy whisps in the shape of men needed to sleep too? ... You might have to wake him up for your purchases, though. Unless you want to try something.
On a dry day, the Shopkeeper can be seen hauling out a large wooden table- almost like a half of a felled tree. Once that's done and settled, stumpy chairs join the table, and then? Paper, reeds, twigs and wicker are laid out. Paints and little carving tools, too. Eventually, he sits down and starts to make something. When questioned, he gestures for you to have a seat.
"We're makin' lanterns," Is what he says eventually, as he guides you in what to do. "The Trader out in the woods has more things that can help, but she can't navigate the woods without a guide. So we're makin' them for her."
As you construct your lanterns, working together or playing around, he watches almost fondly before resuming his work. Gradually, as each lantern gets finished, he either takes them to hang, or instructs you to hang them up either outside or in a window- wherever they can be seen from the outside. Though he hadn't provided a light source, once the lantern is hung it begins to glow. Once the final light is strung up, the Shopkeeper steps into his store and then comes out with a strange horn, blowing into it. The sound is loud, deep and bellowing, but he only plays once. And then he waits...
And waits.
And waits.
Until finally, in the distance, the sound of a similar horn echoes back.
It's a typical foggy morning when the clamor begins, with heavy steps and loud laughter and dozens of items rattling together. Through the fog, a dim light can be seen before a rather... large red and brown turtle slowly lumbers through. On it's back sits a shadowy woman cloaked in a vivid scarlet and gold, hood wrapped as if it's draped from a horned headpiece sits, and behind her a large pack of everything and anything sits tied down. As soon as the turtle settles in the center of the grove by the well, she slides off, already bringing the pack down with her to set up a stall. Her good mood flickers when she sees you.
"So you are the reasons he called me back! Here I thought he was just being sentimental. But! A new meeting is always something beauiful, no? Come, come, help an old woman out. Or better yet, tell that old stiff I'm here-" The Shopkeeper almost definitely knows already. "-He can do the heavy lifting."
The stall unfolds quickly, like a tent full of light and warmth. Her wares include metals and tools, candies and fruits- and behind her, a strange mirror. It isn't for sale but you can't help but think of home when you look at it, no matter how familiar or unfamiliar it is. The turtle settles onto the ground, eyes fluttering closed before he settles into a deep nap. The Trader seems to dance around as she flits from display to display, before she settles before you. You think if she had a face, she'd be smiling wildly.
Welcome to the Trader's stop.
CLICK TO EXPAND!
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what a wonderful feeling.
what a terrible feeling.
and it's all a feeling, more than anything. he can't tell you any one detail of what it is he sees, that makes him not want to look away. but...
it's like what looking in his mirror is supposed to feel like. he feels envy right up to his neck. it's a struggle to not just stand there, forever, the pain that's been pooling lately mostly in his leg meaning nothing.
he brings a hand up, slowly, first to his throat-- his heart is really just fluttering,
just standing here-- ]
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( the trader's voice- and her hand on his shoulder- is not unkind. if anything, its the opposite, a gentle tether where he clearly needs one. )
... It pulls you in, doesn't it? But it can't grant what you seek, my dear.
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It can't?
[ his eyes stray to his hairpin, reflected in the mirror.
the jewels are perpetually murky. there is no sign of anything, lurking within. ]
...no. It can't.
[ Rennuid allows himself to be directed gently away, though there is one detail that remains on his mind-- ]
...but all those flowers.. I wonder if--
[ suddenly in a hurry, he takes out his little hand mirror, turning it to its back. ]
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the trader narrows her eyes at his mirror, humming thoughtfully. )
Well. That doesn't look normal, does it?
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...it's been like that, since I got here. And it hasn't worked right, since, either. I just... wanted to make sure it wasn't the same flower.
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Home, if you want it to. But different. Like it could be, not what it is. It's a lot more, uh, pictures, than that one. But yours is just really... nice...
[ trails off, distracted, thinking of the feeling. ]
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There is more to this mirror, I will admit- but it is not like that. And a sprout where there should be none is not a good sign, child.
( the trader reaches up and places one hand on her large mirror, hanging in the back. )
This mirror can call items from other dimensions- no people, and no sending, or you'd all be set right as rain, I promise you that- but it does not show places. Only that before it.
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[ pure.
he's looking at his own mirror in worry, though-- he hoverhands near the flower, thinking, uh, should I, tear it off??? he hasn't tried tearing it off. ]
...I didn't want to, um, make things worse, since I didn't really know what it meant... was that.. a bad idea? I guess it's not too late to try a knife.
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[ He hugs it to his chest, as if the corruption were something that was going to reach out and pluck it from his hand, rather than already deep within it. ]
I can't. I can't. I'm not ready.
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I can't tell you to let it go if you aren't ready. But please, child, use caution. A corrupted magic item will bring down it's user in seconds to eat their heart. You are no different.
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I'll... have to figure out how to soothe it, that's all. [ people at home already called it cursed, but so was he, right? ]
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... The manor still won't open, will it?
( a subject change, but no less grim. )
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But there is not even a space this much I could slip in through! Not even THIS much. [ he holds up his fingers, pinched to show a space about the size of a quarter. ] A-at least... last I looked.
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Course... Rusty, his people are in there. The children of his master. That's why he tries. But it has been... ages 'pon ages. And the manor itself seems alive, not welcoming anyone in.
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[ well fuck ]
No wonder...
If the house is alive, then... might it have... kept, the people in it?
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Given the situation, the night they went in there... it is unlikely they survived. It was the final night of the grove- when the woods attacked and we could only try and make it through free. But he and my brother both want them back, if only to grant them peace.
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[ ...it happens. these stories don't always have the happy endings you would wish for.
he really has been,
fortunate, so far, huh.
he thinks about the sigils on everyone's doors. ]
What happened... the night the attack came?
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