Flower by Rhyme

The void was bleak. It was an open vastness of darkness and cold, and it spread on for miles and endless miles with no beginning nor end. It was a place were humans didn’t go; it was a place were anything living didn’t go. Tivoli wasn’t a human, and neither was he living. The small arctic fox had pearl white fur, as soft as down to the touch with a sheen of iridescent blue that glimmered like ice in the sunlight. He was real enough. Living enough. He looked like a fox and moved like a fox. He had ears that pivoted, a nose that twitched, and a tail that hovered just above the snow covered ground. His eyes, however, were not the eyes of a fox. He had the eyes of the Ethereon, stark white and piercing. They let him see things that no human or creature besides the Ethereon could see. They let him see into all the corners of the void.

Tivoli can move between the void and the world just as easily as a mortal can blink. He doesn’t find the darkness to be cold, but instead sees it as his home, as do all the Ethereon.

by Firkasa

by Rhyme

Hollow Wyrm (Drawn in pencil and colored digitally)

by Azurrys

Crystal Kelph

by Rhyme

Alpine Taint

-Hersey

(This actually went really well with an old character concept.

-Rhyme

Tamako

TheGermanTaco

By Tamako

[a short story about a comet]

Cygnus A – most brilliant and best of all the galaxies within that great constellation - blazed bright tonight, illumining the tempered glass dome. It stretched so far that the curvature was nigh imperceptible, only at the horizon was its rise and fall clear. Below such a dome lay the terra-formed surface of the third planet of V1489 Cygni. There was no name given to such a place. It simply existed, an outpost just within the bounds of the Hercules–Corona Borealis Great Wall. When we draw in the scale one-billion fold parsecs, we might see two figures sitting on a bench, staring up and out into the void. One wears a human face, but the other does not. They don’t talk often, for they have long since said most of what needs to be said. It is this night that the left-most figure follows the trail of one streak of light with a finger, glass eyes wide at the palest blue of the comet streaking through the cosmic debris. The right-most figure smiles at last, and settles down to two hundred thousand more years of contented waiting.

[a short story about a great big squid]

We know more about the surface of our moons than we do about the bottom of the oceans.

It was a thought that crept traitorously back into the mind of the ineki submariner as she piloted her craft through the inky darkness. A lone bubble of light in the void, even these thoughts felt loud in her head as she eased off on the descent. With a soft thunk, the submarine’s base gently kissed the pale sand, fragments of opal and bone from the fallen carcasses of the glittering creatures from the warm waters above. This wasn’t the researchers first rodeo, as it were. Her worry was rather that in every other instance, she had at least encountered some living thing - however warped and pallid it might appear to somebody who dwelled in the light. Strange crabs with hair-like coats, tremendous worms with feathery plumage, fish with jaws like her uncle’s bear-traps…

And yet down here, there was simply nothing.

A disappointment. Lingering far longer than she really had any right to, considering the weight of the water bearing down from above, she finally let her paw stray towards the level that would cause her craft to rise again. It was only now that she caught the edge of the tentacle curling in total silence across the edge of the curved viewfinder. Turning, with fascination overcoming the fear in her heart, the intrepid ineki turned around to look into the singular glowing eye of the loneliest creature in the world.

[a short story about a brother who isn’t remembered]

It is now a fact that only two inscriptions dedicated to Ocelus Vellaunus remain. There is no doubt that between he and his brother Sucellus Goodstriker, he has walked the path less travelled. And yet, as he waits alone at the boundary between his realm and that of the human world, he feels no regret. The soft whittling of a blade into wood echoes through the clearing. The elaborate knots he carves are long relegated to the annals of folk memory. Just for a moment, he allows himself to wonder if his brother remembers them too. Pushing aside the soft flow of their hair, the nature god sat ever silent as the sun rose in hues of pink and red. This is new. He could smell the dust in the air that allowed for this afterglow, emanating from the nearby city. It won’t be long now until the sprawl reaches even him, in his untainted glade. The difference between he and his brother he thinks, shouldering the finished bow, is that he will not yield without a fight.

By [@Lady Hawkwing]

Fresh snow had fallen the previous night, blanketing the terrain in an even layer of soft white. It had covered over trails and paths, leaving behind a blank canvas that stretched to the dawning horizon and back. Despite the unmarred soft snow, some fresh tracks were still hard to read - Auralie was discovering as much. The young archer crouched low as she extended a hand to hover over the faint tracks that laid before her. “Think I’ve found breakfast,” she murmured quietly, half to herself.

Her mentor had trained her well when it came to hunting and tracking, although she had to admit it was always a different experience when you were out in the wilds on your own. It wasn’t like being back in the quaint forest near her home, with her brother constantly hovering over her shoulder. There was no help here if something went wrong, no kitchen to run to if she failed to catch a meal.

‘sploot’.

A smile crossed Auralie’s face as she glanced towards the noise. She was greeted by the sight of a fluffy white tail sticking out of the snow, and the rest of her fox companion buried beneath it. Perhaps she wasn’t that alone. “Come on, Tivoli, towards the sunrise.”

[a short story about blobs, and the difficulties facing them]

Life is hard, sometimes, when you are an entirely gelatinous being. The kelphi sighed as the plastic tumbler shot from her grasp yet again. There was no point in taking out the good crystal for sip of Sauvignon Blanc now, and yet she had never felt the need for a drink so strongly in her life. So much for making a wish on that wishing stump. Her old mother had been right; nothing comes without a price. There wasn’t really a doubt that the magic had worked. Her coat had never been so splendid and shimmering, her fins like glittering silks. The downside? Well, it would be mighty swell to be able to go about your business without constantly being chastised for leaving a trail of pastel glowing goop wherever you went. Her feelers had never waved so indignantly as when she had been ‘kindly’ escorted from that department store. What is the point in being so absolutely fabulous if you can’t show it off?

[a short story about a dragon, and a thief]

The crystalline dragon flexed and spun overhead, glittering plates interlocking perfectly to produce one fluid motion. Great paws flexed, unsheathing claws long and strong as the daggers of unscrupulous hunters that had failed to pierce her hide. Those five great eyes were the only things that shone dull, betraying her great age. As the pilgrim grew close to her shrine, her whiskers flexed as she sensed the power within them. What question did they hold in their heart, what was so pressing as to require the judgement of the oracle, at this holy city-state of Acheris? Light from the dome above broke into prismatic flecks against the water, streaming at all times down the curved walls. And then, at long last the pilgrim lowered their hood. The great dragon’s shriek rang through the citadel, calling acolytes at every level forth at great speed. And yet they found nothing, save for the lifeless body of the oracle, fallen to the earth with a great wound in her chest. Such senseless slaughter, to pluck one single scale. That night there would be a great outpouring of sorrow amongst the citizens of the city. It would be twenty long years before she would reincarnate again, but they would keep the vigil.

I’m erasing you from my life, he thinks, rage swelling up in his chest as he tears through their—no, his— home, grabbing a hold of every picture of them together. There’s many— too many, he always took too many pictures. He carries them all in his arms, dumping them outside. Some fell on his way out, he knows that, but right now he can’t bring himself to care.

He just wants to erase her from his life as much as he possibly can.

Her stuff is already gone, and now all he has left of her is the pictures and his memories.

He grabs a can of gasoline and douses the photographs with it.

He light a match and drops it on the photographs and stands back as he watches them burn.

He’s caused a scene, he knows that, but right now he can’t bring himself to care.

Right now he still has the memories of her swirling around in his head, and he knows he’ll never be able to fully erase her.

He’s gotten rid of bits of her, though, little bits his mind doesn’t remember, and he knows the memories will only fade more and more with time.

He’s erased as much of her as he can, and now he can’t think of what to do other than lock himself in his bedroom and wait until enough of her fades from his memory for him to move on.

So, that’s what he does.

Every night, when Kent went to sleep, Orion always found himself looking at the stars.

He knew, logically, that today’s stars were just the same as yesterday’s stars. But somehow, they always felt different from day to day. The map of stars always seemed to change depending on the mood of the sky and the weight of the clouds and fog. Some days he would look out of Kent’s bedroom window and see a sky glittering brightly with tiny diamonds; others, no matter how hard he squinted, he wouldn’t catch a single glimpse of light.

The constellations changed as well. Of course the original ones were always there, but when there was a covering of clouds over parts of the sky, Orion liked to pick out new patterns in the stars. Those were as transient as the changing weather, and half the time he couldn’t remember what he’d seen in the cluster just yesterday—but that was all part of its charm. The only stars he always sought out were his namesake, especially during the winter months.

Some nights he preferred to wander, knowing that Kent wouldn’t call on him until he awoke; but others he would spend on Kent’s window seat, looking out through the billowing curtains at the sky with all its gleaming gems. And just like Kent fast asleep next to him, Orion dreamed, lost in a galaxy of dazzling stars.

by Azurrys!

( ack this ended up more angsty than intended. ;;8D )

Ash didn’t know what to do.

The god of decay stared out at the fields of berries from a high tree branch on the edge of the fields, invisible to the human eye. He frowned and stepped off of the branch, falling slowly as he moved forward and landed between the bushes. Black-tipped fingers brushed gently against the nearest leaf, and he watched as it shriveled up and browned from his touch. Ash could tell that the roots of all of the bushes in the entire western section of the field were diseased - it was something small and slow, but he was pretty sure that even this much would harm any human that ate a berry from this section of bushes.

He should probably just leave it and let nature continue on and hope that the villagers nearby would figure the problem out on their own, but ... But such a big section of bushes were diseased. Harvesting these berries would mix them in with the healthy berries, and the entire harvest would be tainted. It would be almost impossible for the humans to pick out the diseased berries from the healthy ones. And, well ... Ash’s hesitancy about leaving the fields as they were really just stemmed from the fact that he liked humans.

Sighing, the minor god ran a hand through his hair, dislodging his crown on accident, before straightening it and walking forward. There was only one thing to do, and he wasn’t looking forward to it.

Stopping in the middle of the western field, Ash knelt on one knee and lowered his arms, pressing his fingertips to the ground. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, summoning the his magic and reaching it into the soil. Once he hit a diseased root, he spread his magic out along it, jumping from bush to bush until his magic enveloped all of the diseased plants. Ash hesitated, and then took another breath, first sealing the roots off from any other plant, and then he opened his eyes, activating his magic. Around him, the bushes began to wilt and black spots appeared on the browning leaves and rotting berries. Still Ash pushed magic into the ground, making sure to seal off the disease and contain it.

A shout made Ash turn, and he saw a human running towards the field. The man got closer and closer, and Ash stayed where he was until the very last second. As he stood, a crow swooped down and flew over the field, allowing Ash to possess it and fly away. He didn’t need to be around for the inevitable cursing of his name, or the crying and anger - he knew it would happen, and he knew that during the next harvest festival, that village would probably stone his effigy before burning it. He was used to it. That was the way of things.

“It’s not even close to Christmas,” Sylvain couldn’t help saying, watching as Jet precariously balanced on the stepladder with the Christmas lights dragging behind him like a very dangerous tripwire. “Seriously, Jet. It’s July. Why did you get out the Christmas tree?”

“Come on, Sly. Have you never heard of Christmas in July? It’ll be fun! At least, it’ll be more fun than melting in the summer heat while Omen over there—” Jet jabbed an accusing finger at the cat sprawled out on the reception desk, “—goes on scheduled fits of insanity from the heat and tries to eat all our furniture. And occasionally my fingers. Hellion.”

Sylvain sighed, already knowing that he was fighting a losing battle. “What are our clients going to say when they see a Christmas tree in the entryway?”

“They’re going to feel a little less dead from the summer heat.” Jet climbed off the stepladder without even attaching the lights in the end, miraculously not getting his feet tangled in them. Sylvain opened his mouth, about to say something about that, until Jet stepped so close that he forgot to say anything at all. “Or,” Jet continued, as if he wasn’t half an inch from Sylvain’s face, “they won’t be saying anything at all, because I’m hanging this over the door.”

Sylvain didn’t even have a moment to respond before Jet leaned in, stealing a very thorough kiss that didn’t do shit to reduce the heat. (Not that he was about to complain.) He did spare half a second to glance up and roll his eyes at the spray of mistletoe Jet was holding over their heads, but his attention was promptly dragged back to the kiss when Jet tugged him forward impatiently.

“…I really hope this isn’t how you plan to greet the clients,” Sylvain finally said when Jet released him. Jet snorted in reply, dragging the stepladder over to start fixing the mistletoe above the entrance to the agency.

“Not unless they also happen to be my boss.”

“Good,” Sylvain answered, and didn’t dignify Jet’s smirk with a reply.

William sighed, watching his fellow Kelph having fun and swimming while he sat on the shore. It just wasn’t fair, ever since he found some stupid chunk of metal while exploring the cave he’s been unable to go into the water, being cursed to be a living volcano. Of course, nothing would actually happen to him, but the water would just evaporate around him. So he’s been left to watch while all his friends got to swim around and play. He swiped at the sand beside him, his annoyance manifesting as a quick burst of flame out of his claw, sending a chunk of glass flying a short ways away.

He stared at it. This curse is weird. Once again, he swiped at the beach, this time making a shower of sand land in his drink. “Graah! Stupid curse!” He shouted, lashing out with his tail and knocking over the sandy drink. He turned around to see a slick patch on the otherwise course beach. “Oh sure, NOW you work.” He slumped down on the sand beside it, rubbing his hand over the smooth surface of the glass as he looked out at the lake longingly. He sighed. Well on the bright side, if he ever figures out how to control his fire he could get a job as a glassmith. So that’s something at least.

Kerya grinned a wicked smile. A sort of jagged line across her face that showed off her normally hidden cruelty. She looked down at her victim, a nameless creature, what used to be a bird of some sort. Not that it mattered now. She walked a circle around the poor thing, inspecting her work. Her grin faded into a deep frown. On an impulse, she grabbed a nearby dagger, still sticky, and slammed it down against the bird’s wing. She sighed, still feeling hollow inside. She pulled out the blade, tossing it in the sink and wrapping up the bird in the cloth it was sitting on, putting it in the corner to be disposed of later.

She sighed, heading to the shower to clean herself off. On the way she stopped by the mirror, examining her normally pretty fur. She couldn’t tell which patches of red were just fur and which were from her work. She supposed it didn’t matter, either way she needed to get clean. She leaned towards the mirror, looking into the eyes of the possessed. So familiar, and yet so foreign. She could still make out hints of her green eyes behind the swirling spirits. But there’s nothing she could do about it. Well, she could try finding a mage…but she won’t be able to stay in control when they realize she’s trying to get rid of them. And she’d hate to hurt some poor Mycenian.

So she sighed, getting into the shower to clean off. Her mouth curved into a frown, and her tails drooped. What’s the matter, we were just starting to look nice. She growled, ignoring the voice in her head and continuing to rid herself of the red goop before it stained her fur. Come on, we were having fun. You know we were. She winced, feeling compelled to answer but not wanting to feed them. She was just as much a victim as that poor bird in the other room. She felt them grinning, knew they were getting what they needed anyways out of her. Still, she bit her tongue and finished her shower. She definitely wasn’t looking forward to taking out the trash…no. Adding to the graveyard trophy room behind her house.

by me!

Beware the soft sunrise - 181 words

There’s a story about the sunrise in these parts, don’t you know?

There’s the rumored green flash at sunset in some places, but here there’s a flash of gold in the morning. Time stands still right as the day breaks over the horizon, over the fields, over the sea, into the sky ... It’s gorgeous. In that split second, the sun softens and you can see it glow golden and the sky is painted pink. It’s a liminal space between night and day, between the world of dreams and reality, and oh, how I wish you could see the spirits. The spirits of dawn, the fading spirits of dreams, the awakening spirits of day - they dance and sing for that one moment. Many a mage has gotten lost in the moment hanging between night and day. I can see the allure - I can feel the pull - wouldn’t it be great to stay forever, bathed in this golden light? But you must beware the soft sunrise, my dear, for the longer you stay with the light, the longer the light stays with you.

“You’re here again.”

Amatsuki lifted his head at the words, smiling faintly at the man who approached. “Hello, Sen. I see you’re here as well.”

As always, Sen looked ageless. His hair was unbound today, and despite its pale white colour Sen looked no older than Amatsuki himself. Amatsuki didn’t know exactly how old he was, but he did know that Sen was many times older than him. Sen always would be, no matter how many years Amatsuki lived.

Sen didn’t reply him until he had approached, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with him beneath the cherry tree. Spring was almost coming to an end, but the tree was still laden with blossoms. Amatsuki watched silently as Sen reached a hand out, laying it gently on the gnarled trunk—a motion he had repeated many times himself.

“She’s not here anymore, you know.” It was a moment before Sen spoke again, his voice unusually serious. Amatsuki inclined his head slightly, breathing out a sigh.

“I know, Sen. I watched you exorcise her. Now… this is just an exceptionally beautiful cherry tree.” He touched the lantern at his side lightly, a faint bitterness rising in him before he quashed it. If only I had realised just a little sooner.

Sen withdrew his hand, stepping back. Amatsuki didn’t move even when he drew closer, close enough that he could almost feel Sen’s breath on his skin. He felt it when Sen reached up to sink a hand into his hair, felt Sen’s hair brush his cheek when he leaned in for a second before pulling back again.

“Here.” Sen took his hand, opening the fingers and pressing something into his palm. “It was in your hair.”

Glancing down, Amatsuki saw it was a cherry blossom, whole and perfect. Smiling faintly, he reached over, and he could see the surprise reflected briefly in Sen’s eyes when he tucked the cherry blossom behind Sen’s ear.

“Keep it.” He let his hand fall to Sen’s shoulder, lingering there for a second before he pulled back. “Thank you, Sen.”

He could tell that Sen hesitated for a moment, but in the next all traces of it were gone. He simply reached up to touch the blossom lightly, fingers fluttering over the petals. “I’ll treasure it.” Sen glanced at him again, and Amatsuki swore that his eyes darted to the lantern for a second before their gazes locked again. “Perhaps we’ll meet again.”

“Perhaps.”

Amatsuki watched as Sen walked away, the pale pink blossom in his hair looking like a bold splash of colour against white. When Sen’s silhouette was no longer visible, Amatsuki turned to look back at the tree, his thumb stroking over the lantern.

“We’ll meet again,” he echoed, as the wind swept past him with a flurry of petals.

Radiance fluffed herself up as she strutted into the cave. She is a very confident Drasilis, which sometimes landed her in trouble with her friends. Of course, who wouldn’t be confident when they glittered and shone like her? She looked like gold and diamonds; very fancy and expensive. This was a lifestyle she liked to live, to reflect her looks.

This landed her a coveted spot in the modelling industry. The likes of Sully and Val were always after her to model off their collections, as she made their products shine just like she does. She gets paid a good sum for her modelling gigs, which gets reinvested back into her looks, or having fancy things.

Deep down, however, Radiance is just like every other Mycenian. She loves to have fun, and would love to do things like explore caves, go fishing, or play Echolocation with bugs. Unfortunately, she can’t be seen doing such things, as she has to continue with her elegant, ladylike appearance.

by me!

(slight warning for the description of a corpse!)
The lady of the snowy valley - 270 words

“The lady of the snowy valley,” they whisper, “she is as cold as she is beautiful. If you took a hammer to her skin, surely it would shatter like ice.”

It was never her intention to drive the her people away from her. The lady of the snowy valley ... no longer Kih, but just a title. Her family? Her friends? Her teachers? Gone, surely. Dead or living elsewhere, far from the deep snow and pure white wasteland. And could she blame them? Not really. She couldn’t even really blame herself. Kih tired to - oh, she tried - but she could not. Every time she thought about her life before, she glanced again at the crystalline flower sprouting from the corpse of her lover from years past and was drawn in once more. The flower sprouted from Lili’s ribcage, flesh and muscle long since gone, even in the sub-zero temperatures. The flower shone a bright blue, and sometimes Lili’s signature magic ice storms appeared in the center.

And what baffled Kih the most was that it was warm - the ice flower was warm. Why? How? Was Lili still there? And so she could not leave the flower, its crystalline roots pinning the skeleton to the ground. It kept her alive, somehow, lengthening her life beyond its normal span. It fed her magic with pure mana, binding her spirit. But even if it did not, she could not bear to be away from her lover and the flower so full of mana - what if something destroyed it? What is a passing mage siphoned the mana out? What if she could revive her lover?

Ren coughed, leaning against his sink and looking up at his reflection in disgust. His beautiful white hide, marred by this dreadful illness. It was clearly magical, whatever it was. His sister hadn’t caught it yet, after all, and he could feel it. It’s actually probably worse that he can still see his old coloration, just a glimpse of how grand he used to look.

He sighed, or tried to. He just ended up coughing some more, spitting a pink wad of gunk into the sink. The glob of gunk stared up at him, and he couldn’t wait until the wizard his sister had contacted showed up to check him out. Normally he didn’t care much for magical types, they only seem to cause trouble around him. Case and point, his current condition. Someone had to curse him or something for this to happen. Lord knows why, he hardly ever left his farm other than to accompany his sis to the market.

Luckily for him, she’s more outgoing, and knows some sort of magical dude who says he can probably help fix his coughing at the least. Which even that would be a blessing at this point, though he’s definitely not going back to town looking like this. He frowned up at the mirror again in disgust at his marred scales. Pink is such a horrid color. He thought to himself, counting each second he had to spend waiting, hoping he could get cured…