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sticksandbones2025-01-29 09:10 pm
sticksandbonesmods) wrote in sticksandbones2025-01-29 09:10 pm
WHAT DOES A COST BRING?
Who: The Grove
What: The result of your sacrifices
When: Late Winter
Where: The Grove
Warnings: Ritual sacrifice, mentioned animal sacrifice
The blizzard stills, one morning. With the howling winds and the wraiths' calls, the sudden silence is stark. Waiting between the goddess's statues is a giant stag, grey and white and silver with heavy icicles hanging from it's antlers. Even Moder seems a bit smaller compared to it. Dry wood and bare branches cling to it's legs, and one would be forgiven for thinking it seems a bit... gaunt, for such a beast.
It does not bring violence. Sacrifices have been made, though it seems to be staring hard at Affogato Cookie. Even the sacrifice of it's kin, the cursed deer of the fae woods, satisfies. The wraiths seem to shift from their ghastly forms to white wisps who share the food between them as they climb and sit upon Winter's antlers. The rest of the sacrifices seem to flicker into a white flame, smoke imbibing the air before it becomes part of the deer.
Your sacrifice is noted. But your pride is seen as well. For those who could not find it in themselves to give, there are repercussions.
It's a clear, crisp voice that echoes through the woods, through Aldric's Grove, through your own minds and hearts. Those who did not give sacrifices will find a silvery mark upon them- antlers, gleaming like ice and glass. It would be beautiful, if it didn't mark them with unbearable chills as well. As time passes, they will find themselves falling ill. The illness will pass by player preference, but must last at least a week. It is a punishment, after all.
...
And then Winter and it's harbingers turn, and vanish into the winter day, as if they were never there to begin with. The rest of the winter will be gentle, pleasant and even warm, with the snow beginning to melt mid-February and staying gone.
What: The result of your sacrifices
When: Late Winter
Where: The Grove
Warnings: Ritual sacrifice, mentioned animal sacrifice
The blizzard stills, one morning. With the howling winds and the wraiths' calls, the sudden silence is stark. Waiting between the goddess's statues is a giant stag, grey and white and silver with heavy icicles hanging from it's antlers. Even Moder seems a bit smaller compared to it. Dry wood and bare branches cling to it's legs, and one would be forgiven for thinking it seems a bit... gaunt, for such a beast.
It does not bring violence. Sacrifices have been made, though it seems to be staring hard at Affogato Cookie. Even the sacrifice of it's kin, the cursed deer of the fae woods, satisfies. The wraiths seem to shift from their ghastly forms to white wisps who share the food between them as they climb and sit upon Winter's antlers. The rest of the sacrifices seem to flicker into a white flame, smoke imbibing the air before it becomes part of the deer.
Your sacrifice is noted. But your pride is seen as well. For those who could not find it in themselves to give, there are repercussions.
It's a clear, crisp voice that echoes through the woods, through Aldric's Grove, through your own minds and hearts. Those who did not give sacrifices will find a silvery mark upon them- antlers, gleaming like ice and glass. It would be beautiful, if it didn't mark them with unbearable chills as well. As time passes, they will find themselves falling ill. The illness will pass by player preference, but must last at least a week. It is a punishment, after all.
...
And then Winter and it's harbingers turn, and vanish into the winter day, as if they were never there to begin with. The rest of the winter will be gentle, pleasant and even warm, with the snow beginning to melt mid-February and staying gone.
no subject
But at least he can correct her on her words, even if he doesn't move to hug her. Why should he, she's throwing a fit, he is not Pure Vanilla, he wont allow himself to be verbally abused and then hug her. He moves to gather things for soup, shuffling around as he does. ]
You are making up narratives to suit your misery, seeking only to wallow. There was no ruse, no trickery in Pure Vanilla Cookie. His love for you was real.
[ Ugh, he can't smell these items, are they good? Oh well. He begins to chop them, despite his inability to smell them. ]
I am not Pure Vanilla Cookie. I have no desire to comfort you while you hurl anger and misguided vile my way.
no subject
The "was" makes her flinch, she's not...sure if that's better or worse. He loved her and then...stopped? Did he...feel like she was no longer worthy of it?
But then he drops that bombshell, his responsibilities as Pure Vanilla apparently are no longer on his shoulders. A.B.A was wondering why he was talking in the third person, it was incredibly out of character, but what does she know? She barely knows who the real Pure Vanilla is anymore.
She chuckles.
Her body feels like it's made of bricks, but she still manages to drag herself back onto her feet, her posture hunched over as gravity fights her efforts. She chuckles more. It hurts, it all hurts. Her body aches, her heart cries, and all she can do is laugh at this reveal.]
Did you...did you really fabricate an entirely new persona just to keep your distance from me? Do you despise me that much!? That you had to...had to die and recreate yourself?! ...So be it! If you're no longer Pure Vanilla, then I will gladly treat you like you aren't. You...you have no idea how close you are to death...if I have no connection to you, do you think I'd mourn you while I coat my hands in your blood?
Go ahead, make the soup, return my strength.
no subject
[ Flat, dead, as he chops the vegetables and adds them to the water. Hm. Salt and pepper too. Some seasonings. Is there meat? He shuffles to the side to open the refrigerator to look. Hm. Yes, but it'll cook at a different rate. Substitutes meat for another vegetable more proteiny, that'll do.
Back to chopping, he doesn't even glance her way. ]
I am not a fabrication, lest of all to simply deny love to you. After all Pure Vanilla Cookie has done for you, you look down so badly upon him?
[ Typical. It would hurt, if he could feel the pain anymore. If he was Pure Vanilla Cookie anymore. ]
Pure Vanilla Cookie died. He is gone. His existence has been consumed by the bitter truth that his entire life was a lie and he was nothing. He fell, and in his place I arose. I am Truthless Recluse. I am the result of a bitter world of lies and betrayal. I exist here because Pure Vanilla Cookie fell to his heart being taken and given to the enemy, and I am the price of his death.
[ Good, that should be a hearty enough soup. He adds more water to replace what she boiled off, then leans himself against the counter... and sneezes into the cabinets. Ah. Yucky. ]
no subject
Yes. I told you not to go, I explained why it was an appalling idea. You're old, weak, it was certain death! You chose to die!! You chose to break my heart and I can never forgive you, I told you. Should I have begged more? Did my pleas not satisfy you?! Pure Vanilla, Truthless Recluse, whoever you choose to be, you're lucky I look at you at all.
[As logical as A.B.A likes to believe she is, she will always be an emotional, immature person. There's just simply no convincing her she isn't the victim in Pure Vanilla's own death. As far as she's concerned, he did it on purpose.]
If you're so truthless, then what makes you think I should believe anything that you say? How can I not suspect you of ruses when it's in your very name!!
[Okay, she can be a little logical.]
no subject
[ He finds a towel to wipe his nose and his eyes, ugh he hates being human, being a Cookie is far less... liquidy. He won't blow his nose into the towel though, preferring to find a napkin which he will... eventually find once he looks around enough. Excuse him as he does so. ]
Do what you wish. Feel how you will. Believe what you want. But never accuse me of being a liar.
[ That would probably have more impact if he didn't now sound incredibly stuffed up. But at least he looks far better on his feet than she does. He may be shuffling like an old man but she can barely stand. ]
Pure Vanilla Cookie would have lived, had he not been betrayed. But you care not, do you? The love others have shown you means nothing to you. Wallow in your falsities then, your selfishness, bemoan your made up atrocities. I will stop trying to remember how he felt, and show you as much care as you show others. Eat the soup when it is done or do not. I do not care.
[ He tosses the used tissue away and grabs a few more to head for the exit. ]