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Mushrooms. It began with... mushrooms. After a particularly rainy and miserable few days mushrooms appeared all over the school grounds. And inside the school as well! These mushrooms grew not just from the ground but from the very walls, and they were unlike any mushrooms anyone on the Isle had ver sen before, no matter the world they were from. These were clearly no ordinary fungi! It would defy identification and it wasn't even clear if any two people saw them the same way!
Not knowing what they were would lead to one crucial question, are these fungi food or foe? Dare you eat one? How hungry have you become? And even if you don't eat them, they somtimes emit clouds of spores... dare you pass through them? But then, avoiding them entirely would be difficult, though doable if one were particularly determined.
While most of the spoor clouds would seem to be no more harmful than a sudden burst of dust... Some random unpredictable ones would have an additional effect. Whomsoever took the brunt of the spore cloud would find a memory of theirs springing to psudeo-life before them for anyone around to see and hear.
Only one memory will display at a time, and anyone in the area can see and hear it, but only those close enough to have been caught by that same spore cloud will get the full effect. They'll see the figures and setting as solid, and may experience subtle additional effects related to the memory, such as the feeling of a breeze or the smell of cooking food. Anyone else will see and hear everything fine, but will not experience any additional sensations and will see the scene as somewhat transparent. The figures aren't solid, they just seem like that to anyone who was close enough to smell the flower when it triggered.
The memory, oddly enough, will not be from the perspective of the one it belongs to; they and their companion or companions will be observing from a third party perspective, thus allowing a person to see their own face in the memories without the aid of a mirror. Nor can the memories be interacted with; those viewing them are observers only, and while they'll be able to hear the figures in the memory and each other speaking, no one in the memories will be able to hear or perceive them in any way. The memories vary in content and tone from person to person, for obvious reasons, but a common thread will soon be spotted: all the memories involve the person's mother or similar maternal figure. Generally they are more likely to be negative memories; if such memories exist. This is the Isle, and it is bound to try to draw forth the darkest and most painful memories with a person who, in theory, should have been a bastion of love and safety.
Once the memory fades that mushroom looses its ability and becomes just like any other mushroom in this event. However another mushroom nearby might have been activated and ready to spew forth memory inducing spores.
But the issues don't stop just because the mushroom did not invoke memories or the spores it spewed forth have ben expended. After all... you know someone is going to be desperate enough with hungry to try to eat one of these things. That person or those people are about to have a bad time.
The mushroom will taste... like well... Something. Something not mushroom like in texture. Unsettling, really when you can't place the taste, just that it does not go with the mushroom texture. And then at the end a mildly bitter aftertaste. The mushrooms are filling, at least; despite the disconnect between taste and texture. So that's good, right? What could be so bad about eating these mysterious mushrooms?
Eating the mushrooms, sorry to say, will result in the person having vivid nightmares involving their mothers or maternal figures. Again, while the content of those dreams will vary widely for obvious reasons, for some reason on the Isle the nightmares are especially bad. Those who have them will toss and turn all night, and will wake up feeling more tired than they were when they went to sleep. This will linger, the nightmares will persist for one night after the event for each mushroom the character ate, with a max of one week. Any sleep will be thus troubled when the character sleeps, be it laying down for the night or nodding off sitting up because they are so curst tired. As these are nightmares they need not be true to memories and even those without a mother can suffer these terrible dreams; a mother will b provided for them, as dreams are wont to do.
Picked mushrooms will start to rot within two hours of being picked, and be gone within five. But during the event there will always be more, and clearing one area will seem to be a Sisyphean task indeed. The mushrooms will remain throughout the event, at the end of which there will be a terrible storm with a single blinding flash of lightning that would light up even the most hidden areas of the school, and when the flash clears and people can see again, the mushrooms and anything extracted from them are just gone. Everything, that is, save the nightmares.
A disturbing phenomenon, to be sure, but once it's over, other concerns will likely take precedence once again. After all, something like that couldn't possibly happen again, right? Actually, this is the Isle, and that was a miserable week. Seems like it is guaranteed you'll have to suffer something like this again soon....
Not knowing what they were would lead to one crucial question, are these fungi food or foe? Dare you eat one? How hungry have you become? And even if you don't eat them, they somtimes emit clouds of spores... dare you pass through them? But then, avoiding them entirely would be difficult, though doable if one were particularly determined.
While most of the spoor clouds would seem to be no more harmful than a sudden burst of dust... Some random unpredictable ones would have an additional effect. Whomsoever took the brunt of the spore cloud would find a memory of theirs springing to psudeo-life before them for anyone around to see and hear.
Only one memory will display at a time, and anyone in the area can see and hear it, but only those close enough to have been caught by that same spore cloud will get the full effect. They'll see the figures and setting as solid, and may experience subtle additional effects related to the memory, such as the feeling of a breeze or the smell of cooking food. Anyone else will see and hear everything fine, but will not experience any additional sensations and will see the scene as somewhat transparent. The figures aren't solid, they just seem like that to anyone who was close enough to smell the flower when it triggered.
The memory, oddly enough, will not be from the perspective of the one it belongs to; they and their companion or companions will be observing from a third party perspective, thus allowing a person to see their own face in the memories without the aid of a mirror. Nor can the memories be interacted with; those viewing them are observers only, and while they'll be able to hear the figures in the memory and each other speaking, no one in the memories will be able to hear or perceive them in any way. The memories vary in content and tone from person to person, for obvious reasons, but a common thread will soon be spotted: all the memories involve the person's mother or similar maternal figure. Generally they are more likely to be negative memories; if such memories exist. This is the Isle, and it is bound to try to draw forth the darkest and most painful memories with a person who, in theory, should have been a bastion of love and safety.
Once the memory fades that mushroom looses its ability and becomes just like any other mushroom in this event. However another mushroom nearby might have been activated and ready to spew forth memory inducing spores.
But the issues don't stop just because the mushroom did not invoke memories or the spores it spewed forth have ben expended. After all... you know someone is going to be desperate enough with hungry to try to eat one of these things. That person or those people are about to have a bad time.
The mushroom will taste... like well... Something. Something not mushroom like in texture. Unsettling, really when you can't place the taste, just that it does not go with the mushroom texture. And then at the end a mildly bitter aftertaste. The mushrooms are filling, at least; despite the disconnect between taste and texture. So that's good, right? What could be so bad about eating these mysterious mushrooms?
Eating the mushrooms, sorry to say, will result in the person having vivid nightmares involving their mothers or maternal figures. Again, while the content of those dreams will vary widely for obvious reasons, for some reason on the Isle the nightmares are especially bad. Those who have them will toss and turn all night, and will wake up feeling more tired than they were when they went to sleep. This will linger, the nightmares will persist for one night after the event for each mushroom the character ate, with a max of one week. Any sleep will be thus troubled when the character sleeps, be it laying down for the night or nodding off sitting up because they are so curst tired. As these are nightmares they need not be true to memories and even those without a mother can suffer these terrible dreams; a mother will b provided for them, as dreams are wont to do.
Picked mushrooms will start to rot within two hours of being picked, and be gone within five. But during the event there will always be more, and clearing one area will seem to be a Sisyphean task indeed. The mushrooms will remain throughout the event, at the end of which there will be a terrible storm with a single blinding flash of lightning that would light up even the most hidden areas of the school, and when the flash clears and people can see again, the mushrooms and anything extracted from them are just gone. Everything, that is, save the nightmares.
A disturbing phenomenon, to be sure, but once it's over, other concerns will likely take precedence once again. After all, something like that couldn't possibly happen again, right? Actually, this is the Isle, and that was a miserable week. Seems like it is guaranteed you'll have to suffer something like this again soon....
River Song | OTA | CW: violence, guns, abuse, neglect
Date: 2023-05-12 03:17 am (UTC)From:New mushrooms? One or two that she hadn't noticed. Maybe. This many? And of a type she'd never seen? Hardly. Still, and adventure was an adventure and things had been boring of late. So she'd happily investigate this new mystery.
She knew how the Doctor would investigate, of course; but she didn't fancy eating the thing until she knew more about it. So she did what the Doctor would have done next. She pulled out her sonic gave it a scan, and...
"What do you mean nothi..."
Which was when the spore cloud exploded in her face.
(See headers for individual memories, willing to do multiple in a single thread, the headers are just launching off points.)
The Impossible Day Of The Moon - CW: Spoilers, guns, child harm
Date: 2023-05-12 03:46 am (UTC)From:"Oh...." River said, reaching for her weapon but not drawing it. She knew this place. How could she not? She'd been here more than the once. Was here three times at the moment by her count. But how? Why?
"Doctor. I'm pregnant," she heard a familiar voice said as the scene shifted around the space suit who had crested the door and entered a cluttered room. Inside the room were three people. A man in a suit lay face down on the ground. kneeling before him was a man in a bow tie and a redheaded woman.
The man in the bowtie spotted the space suit first, but the redhead wasn't far behind.
"Oh, Amy..." River whispered. She wanted to stop this. But she couldn't. This was a fixed point now. Altering it would break time. Again. But her heart ached for the redheaded woman.
The space suit lifted an arm. The redhead didn't take the time to think didn't hesitate. She dove for a gun that was on the ground.
The other hand of the space suit lifted the visor showing all who watched the little girl within.
The man in the bowtie saw the child, but the redhead was grabbing the gun.
"NOOOOOOOO!" The man shouted, half rage, half command.
The redhead didn't stop in time, finishing her motion and shooting the space suit in the face plate.
The moment that the woman realized that there was a child in there, the moment it was too late was clear on her face.
The scene froze in tableau for a moment.
River hesitated, still. She knew what happened next but...
But their memories were being messed with. So maybe she could... Wait. Wait. Why wasn't anything moving. Why weren't they coming up behi....
The scene blurred then faded into nothingness.
"What in the nam of sanity was that?" she asked. Hand still on her weapon - that she still did not know was now little more than a novelty toy - sh rose carefully and turned slowly, looking in all directions. "Did you do this?" she asked the person she spotted. Though she wanted the how more than the who at the moment. She wouldn't bicker about the why either...
Other Way Up - CW all as above plus needles.
Date: 2023-05-12 06:06 am (UTC)From:Which honestly wasn't so hard a task. She could see again the people she loved, even if she couldn't talk to them. The bit she didn't like was that others could see this as well. That... and that someone or something was drawing forth and showing off her memories in the first place.
This new scene was in some sort of cave. Ancient by the looks of it. Tiers upon tiers of stone ledges with time worn and broken statues here and there. The whole thing was expansive, and in its time must have been breathtaking. To an archeologist, it still was.
To Isle River, knowing what she knew now it was impressive in a whole other way. She started to smile then stopped, frowning. She saw herself coming up from behind Amy, but through whatever caused her to see her memories from the outside she could see Amy from the front now. See the clue that if she had sen it in time could have saved lives.
"Oh, Amy..." she whispered.
The redheaded girl in the bright red hoodie and black short skirt and black tights was rubbing at her eye - gravel coming out as she did - as River cam up from behind her. This River was in what looked like some sort of sand tone army fatigues, but without a helmet.
"You all right?" River asked her, concerned.
Other people in fatigues like Rivers - but with helmets were looking around with flashlights, armed to the teeth. A slightly dorky looking man in a tweed jacket and a bow tie was up ahead fiddling with some sort of device as he stood before one of the statues.
"Yeah," the redhead said. "I'm fine. So... What's a maze of the dead?"
"Ah, it's not as bad as it sounds," River reassured her, digging though her pouches and pockets. "It's just a labyrinth with dead people buried in the walls." When the woman gave her a look, she relented. "Okay, that was fairly bad," she admitted. She pulled out what looked a lot like a futuristic syringe but without the actual needle part. "Right, give me your arm." She grabbed the girl's wrist gently and pushed up her sleeve. Priming the shot she said "This... won't hurt a bit."
Clearly from the woman's face as the metal touched her flesh, it did in fact hurt.
"OW!" The woman said, looking furious.
"There," River said with a smile "you see? I lied." Oddly that seemed to calm the woman down. River continued. "It's a virostabalizer. Stabilizes your metabolism against radiation, drive burn, anything. You're going to need it when we get up to that ship."
"So," the woman said, changing the subject abruptly, "what's he like?" she nodded to the man in the bow tie. "In the future, I mean. 'Cause you know him in the future, don't you?"
The woman was clearly prying and River was clearly, from her expression willing to be friendly but had no intention of giving a straight answer.
"The Doctor?" she asked, casually. As if she could have meant anyone else. She busied herself putting away the syringe. "Ah, well.. the Doctor is the Doctor," she said, dismissively.
"Oh," the woman said, not bothering to hide a smile. "Well, that's very helpful. Mind if I write that down?"
"Yes we are," River said, not to the woman but to the man in the bow tie, aiming a flashlight at him, where he still seemed to be absorbed in the readouts on the device he was holding.
"Sorry, what?" he asked, as though distracted. He started tapping on the screen of the device rapidly.
"Talking about you," River said, cheerfully.
"I wasn't listening, I'm busy," he told her.
"Ah," River said, clearly amused. "The other way up."
The man looked at the device confused, held it at arm's length then turned it over. He glanced back at them and River gave the woman a knowing grin and nod before looking at the man again, who turned away abruptly; to face the new right side up display once more.
"Yeah..." he whispered.
Speaking of whispers... "You're so his wife," the woman whispered to River.
"Oh Amy Amy Amy," River said, eyes and flashlight still aimed at the man. "This is the Doctor we're talking about. Do you really think it could be that simple?"
As if wanting to end the conversation the man - the Doctor - gave up the pretense of looking at the device, pocketing it to make it clear they were done here.
River turned from him to the woman - Amy - in time for Amy to give her an amused look and say "Yep," popping her P.
River fought a laugh and aimed her flashlight and eyes up at some of the statues above them. "You're good," she told Amy without looking at her. "I'm not saying you're right, but you are very good."
Demons Run, But Count The Cost. CW: Spoilers, Guns, death. Injuries.
Date: 2023-05-12 09:20 am (UTC)From:The area was large. A space station, though it was hard to tell from the bit of it shown here. Evidence of a battle was everywhere; in damage and fallen bodies. Though those who remained showed few wounds. Only one person was possibly on the edge of dying, everyone else already had died already who was likely too.
Among the dead there was some variation in costuming - one woman in a military uniform, one large blue man in colorful silk robes who now lacked a head, and the rest in corse brown robes that hid them utterly.
The living sported an even wider range. There was A lizard woman in leather armor with a sword on her back and a gun in her hands. A human woman in black and white tended to an odd creature with a bald potato looking head and blue armor of some unknown alloy. There was a roman centurion, a redheaded woman in what lookd like loose white pajamas, and a thin man in a tweed jacket and a bowtie. And of course, River Song. Who was dressed, for her, fairly simply.
What was in the battleground was almost as anachronistic as the array of peoples and costumes. There was a large blue police box, for one. A baby's cradle, for another. All this among the weapons and bodies and countless storage boxes of on sort or another and scaffolding and industrial pipes.
River walked towards the man in the bowtie as he turned slowly to face her. "Well, then, soldier, how goes the day?" she asked, voice a bit tight but neutral. She was holding back some emotion, some tension, but not giving a clue as to what that was. She stopped, pausing with her back to the police box.
She watched as everyone reacted to her presence. The woman in white had been clinging to the centurion and they both turned to face her. The man in the bow tie stalked towards her, furious. "Where the reverse polarity have you been?!"
How odd. She remembered this conversation quite well and he most certainly had not said revers polarity. Odd. Time to see what else had changed, perhaps that would give her the clues she needed to work this all out.
"Every time you have asked, I have been there," he continued, closing on her. She made no move to get out of his way, gave no sign that his anger rushing at her mattered to her one wit. "Where the reverse polarity were you today!?"
Same change. Noted.
"I couldn't have prevented this," Memory River said calmly, shaking her head.
"You could have tried!" he demanded, turning away in disgust.
"And so, my love, could you," she replied with almost no emotion laking into her voice or face. She turned then to look at the woman in white and the centurion. For those who had seen the other memories, this was the same redheaded woman that had thus far featured in them all. "I know you're not alright. But hold tight. Amy, bcause you're going to be."
It was, however, the centurion who held tight at that, closing his hand on the the arm of the woman - Amy.
The man in the bowtie looked at River, incredulous. "You think I wanted this?! I didn't do this! This... this wasn't me!" he said, sounding more and more cross with every line.
"This was exactly you," River said, voice stern. "All this. All of it. You make them so afraid." Hr voice softened but only slightly. "When you began all those years ago, sailing off to see the universe, did you ver think you'd become this?" the couple moved subtly closer to the growing confrontation, concern on their faces. "The man who can turn an army around at the mention of his name," River continued, no sign of mercy in her whatsoever. "Doctor." The man looked at her, stricken. She continued. "The word for healer and wise man throughout the universe. We get that word from you, you know," she scolded without raising her voice. As though it was an accusation on its own, rather than a part of one. "But if you carry on the way you are, what might that word come to mean?"
His eyes searched her face, so she moved as she continued, slipping around the side of him like a shark starting to circle. And circle she did. Relentless, her lecture continued. "To the people of the Gamma Forests," she stopped behind him, made him turn to face her once more "the word Doctor means mighty warrior. How far you've come," she said, shaking her head. He looked like a young child bing chastised for all he was taller than her. "And now they've taken a child. The child of your best friends," she said as he walked away like he could not bear to hear more. "And they're going to turn her into a weapon just to bring you down." He turned to face her again. Her expression and voice was as composed as his was not. "And all this, my love, in fear of you."
Their positions were reversed now, with him standing with his back to the police box and her back to the stricken couple.
He stalked towards her again, studying her intently, eyes locked on her face but searching it. For something. "Who are you?" the question was no less a demand for all it was softly spoken.
Emotion joined her then, a teasing sort of playfulness as she backed away. "Oh look, your cot. Haven't seen that in a very long while." She all but skipped backwards to the cradle. He rushed after her and the red head and the centurion couple moved, unsure but desperate to keep near, to understand what was going on.
"No," the Doctor said. "No, you tell me. You tell me who you are," he demanded, menacing. H wasn't tall enough to loom over her but seemed to be giving it his best go as they stood beside the baby's cradle. He grabbed her wrist as he spoke.
But she didn't seem threatened or cowed in the least. She gently prized his hand off of her wrist and put it on the cot, curling his fingers gently around one of the protrusions on it. "I am telling you," she said, her voice almost kind for the first time this memory. She looked up at the confusion on his face. "Can't you read?" she asked, voice softer still. Not quiet, but a soft that spoke of home and welcome.
He looked from her face down to the cradle, with its circular script on the outer sides and the small hand stitched prayer leaf laying inside upon the blankets.
There was a long moment as he stared down towards the cot with slowly growing comprehension before he looked up at her with something akin to shocked wonder. She smiled back and there was a sweet and somewhat awkward wordless moment. He swallowed, suddenly seeming almost shy.
"Hello," h said so quietly it was hardly more than a whisper. He shifted, as though he couldn't quite stand still.
"Hello," she repeated with a broad smile and warmth in her voice.
He gave a nervous laugh as behind him the redheaded woman stepped in front of the Centurion, almost protectively, as sh inched closer to River and the Doctor. "But that means..." the Doctor startd.
"I'm afraid it does," River said, cutting him off seeming genuinely amused.
The pair smiled at each other like love sick teenagers, then the Doctor turned back to the redhead and the Centurion, then to River again. "Oooh... But you and I... we...we... we... uh..." flustered he made kissy noises at her.
"Yes," she whispered breathlessly leaning towards him.
He laughed awkwardly again, wringing his hands and looking back and forth between River and the couple. Then he turned to River, fixed his lapels and straightened his bowtie. "How do I look?" he asked.
She looked him over and gave hr broadest smile yet. "Amazing."
"I'd better be..." he said.
"Yes you better be," she replied, fighting to not laugh.
Th Doctor spun to address the others. "Vastra and Jenny, till the next time," he said to the lizard woman and the woman in black and white. "Rory and Amy," he said to the Centurion and the redhead. "I know where to find your daughter and on my life she will be safe." He spun around again as River was looking down at the cot. "River, get them all home." He clapped his hands, pulled out an odd thin device with a green light that made a peculiar noise as he aimed it at the police box to a chorus of small explosions. A force field around it became visible then vanished.
"Doctor!" Rory demanded, stepping towards him.
Amy did more than step. "No! Where are you going?! NO!"
The Doctor stepped into the call box then poked his head out again to stare at River. He pointed at her with another giggle before ducking inside and closing the door. There was a repetitive whooshing sound as the box flickered in and out of visibility before it and the sound vanished altogether.
They all watched it leave. All but River who was watching Amy and Rory. Amy... who looked like her hart was breaking a little bit more each time the box vanished. When it failed to return she turned on River who looked down quickly.
"Where is he going? What did you tell him?" Amy demanded advancing slowly on her.
River looked up, leaning protectively over the cradle. "Amy, you have to stay calm."
Amy's idea of staying calm, apparently was to pick up a gun from the floor. She aimed it at River's head. "Tell me what you told the Doctor."
"Amy! No, stop it!" Rory said, a bit frantic, clearly not sure how to keep Amy from murdering River.
"It's okay, Rory," River said calmly. "She's fine. She's good. It's the Tardis translation matrix. It takes a while to kick in with the written word." River didn't look at the gun even when Amy moved to aiming lower and was close enough that it was almost to her chest. She kept her eyes locked on Amy's eyes. Maintained eye contact even as she gave Amy cause to break it. "You have to concentrate."
Amy's eyes flicked down a moment, then up again. "I still can't read it," she said, raising the gun toward's River's face again. Rory stepped in, trying to stop her, to take it from her.
River shook her head lightly but kept her eyes on Amy's as Rory got the gun lowered. "It's because it's Gallifreyan and doesn't translate," River said, her calm cracking a little at the edges, but still mostly present. That broke when she saw the despair in Amy and Rory's eyes, the pain behind Amy's anger. River looked down then, picking up the hand sewn prayer leaf from the blankets. "But this will." She reached and took Amy's now free hand and set the golden bit of cloth into it. "It's your daughter's name," she said, closing both of her hands around Amy's hand and the leaf "in the language of the forest."
"I know my daughter's name," Amy said, clearly someone clinging to her anger because it was all that was keeping her from collapsing in despair.
"Except they don't have a word for pond," River said. "Because the only water in the forest is the river. The Doctor will find your daughter," she said, letting go of Amy's hands as the couple looked down at the prayer leaf in confusion. "And he will care for her, whatever it takes. And I know that," River's eyes searched their faces as she spoke. She saw the moment the tear slid free down Amy's cheek. She was ready when Amy and Rory looked up at her again. And this time her voice had a slight tremble to it. "It's me. I'm Melody. I'm your daughter." The stunned looks on her parents face told her all she needed to know, it seemed, for she hid her expressions again. "You two need time to absorb this. I understand. I'll get you home and then give you some time. This has been a long and horrible time for you both. But you can rest now." She put a hand on each of their shoulders. "I'll make sure of it."
Re: River Song | OTA | CW: violence, guns, abuse, neglect
Date: 2023-05-12 03:56 pm (UTC)From:To anyone who had caught the pattern of this particular event by now this memory would seem to disprove all theories. After all, by proximity, River should be the trigger for it, but she didn't look a bit like either of the little girls in the least. And as the two children were the only one in the scene, there was no one who seemed old enough to be her mom.
What there was in the scene was a large and rather cluttered bedroom. The furniture was all well made, though also clearly heavily used. But it was the sort of furniture one might put in a gust room for adults. Not a bit of it was sized for a child.
But the clutter clearly marked it as the domain of a child anyway. Handmade toys. Multiple versions of the same few toys. A blue police box. A male doll that is wearing torn up raggedy clothes. A little girl doll with red hair. The two girls were sitting on the bed tossing a version of the blu box made of cloth between them.
"You never did tell me where Rory is," the darker haired girl said.
"Do we hafta talk about Rory, Mels?"
"I just wanna know he's not gonna pop up at us anywhere, Amy," Mels said, tossing the box plush at her.
Amy rolled her eyes. "He's playing hide and seek."
"With who?" Mels asked.
"Me. I'll go find him later. You were gonna tell me what I missed in history. Did anyone fall over?
"Nah," Mels said. "But I got detention again," she started dancing one of the child dolls around.
"What? Again?" Amy threw the box at Mels. "You've gotta stop doing that. You're always in trouble."
"So what? School's stupid anyway. All the teachers are stupid."
"Duh," Amy said. "But you can't tell them that all the time Mels! You can't keep getting in trouble!"
"Pretty sure I can, actually."
"Nuh uh!"
"Yaah huh!"
"Nuh uh! They're gonna get cross and kick you out and then I'll have no one to play with except Rory! So you gotta behave!"
"Ugh, who died and made you my mum?" Mels snapped.
"Well someone's gotta raise you!"
"You're in trouble as much as me, Amy!"
"It's fine. I count as a boy anyway so no one cares!"
"They do too."
"Do not!"
"Do too..."
Yeah, this was going to go on for a while....
Foulques- CW: mentions of fantastic racism/slurs
Date: 2023-05-19 04:36 am (UTC)From:He at first thought that perhaps the sudden plague of fungi might be said alchemist's doing, but Yen Sid had claimed ignorance of their origins just like everyone else, and Foulques found himself inclined to believe him. While it was true that certain areas of the Isle would prove ideal to cultivate mushrooms, they would not have sprung up in such quantity overnight, even had most of the other adults been willing to do more than scheme and bemoan their fates. No, some other force was at work here, and Foulques did not trust it. Nor was he quite hungry enough to tempt the fates by eating one of the mushrooms; he knew what the wrong sort could do to a man if eaten, and hunger was- as yet- far preferable.
Whatever their origin though, the fact remained that they were everywhere. To the point where one had to look before they sat down, lest they plant their backside on a mushroom on their chair. It as, to say the least, annoying, but no more than that, it seemed. Until he passed by a particular cluster of red ones stuck to the wall, that is. As he walked by, they sprayed a cloud of fine spores into the air, almost directly into his face, causing him to briefly cough and sputter. He was about to crush the offending fungi when the scene around him suddenly shifted. To a place and time both achingly familiar and almost forgotten...
From Dawn to Duskwight
Date: 2023-05-19 04:40 am (UTC)From:The woman was unpacking some vegetables and other food items from a large market basket as the boy spoke up angrily. "Why did you let those men say such things, mother?", he asked.
A faint, sad smile crossed her lips, and she answered without turning away from her unpacking. "You'll understand when you're older, darling," she said.
The boy was undeterred. "But they were lying! You and I both knew they were. You didn't steal anything! You paid for all the food we bought with good coin; I watched you do it! And I'd bet some of them did too. There were lots of other people at the market, but they didn't call any of them thieves. And they called you names too; 'ashkin' and 'nightcrawler' and some bad words you've told me I should never use. Why didn't you stand up to them? And why didn't you let me stand up to them?"
The woman paused, sighing softly. She was looking down at the bundle of carrots in her hands, though it was fairly obvious she wasn't really seeing them. After a moment, she replied, "Because it wouldn't have made a difference. And because I didn't want you to be hurt."
"Why would they hurt me?", the boy asked, sitting up straight in the chair, all righteous defiance. "I didn't do anything wrong. And all I would have done was tell them the truth. Told them that you're a good mother, that you'd never steal anything, and that they shouldn't call people names."
The woman put the carrots down on the counter and at last turned to face her son, getting down on one knee to be at eye level with him. She gently brushed a stray wisp of hair back into place behind one of his pointed ears. "Foulques," she said, equally gently, that same small, sad smile on her face, "there are people in this world who hate and fear those who are different from them without any good reason. Sometimes, their hate and fear will grow strong enough that they'll even harm others if they believe they can get away with doing so. And much of the time, it isn't safe for Duskwights like us to stand up to such people here. Do you understand, little one?"
"But... it isn't right...", he said, his shoulders slumping a bit, and his frown taking on a distinct pout.
"No it isn't. If the gods are kind, perhaps it won't always be so, but for now we must live in the world as it is, not as we wish it to be. And in any case, no harm was done today, nor are all people like those I spoke of; the shopkeep spoke for me, after all, and that was the end of it, so best not to worry yourself overmuch." Her smile became somewhat brighter and more genuine, though the hint of sadness remained. "Especially since you have more pressing things to concern yourself with. How about you recite for me the poem you were told to memorize? The priest will want to hear it from you on Darksday, and you don't want him to think you've been neglecting your lessons, do you?"
Young Foulques' frown deepened for a moment; he was clearly aware he was being deflected and didn't like it one bit, but relented and nodded, beginning his recitation as his mother turned back to the counter to finish putting away the food.
Halone, Fury, with spear in hand
Stands proudly over Ishgard land
'Gainst flame and claw she bears her shield
Her power do their soldiers wield
Menphina, Lover, with skillet round
Like greater moon above the ground
Beams down at us with loving rays
Guides turning of the nights and days
Thaliak, Scholar, with staff and scroll
Ever on his rivers roll
Holds wisdom in his guiding hand
And pours out water for the land
Nymeia, Spinner, upon her wheel
The seasons turn and fates are sealed
Dons silken veil 'gainst velvet night
Among the stars with glittering light
Llymlaen, Navigator, upon her wave
Ride many sailors strong and brave
Guides them to ports both far and near
So they never new horizons fear
Oschon, Wanderer, on mountains stands
Guides all those who walk the lands
With walking stick and smiling eye
Home anywhere beneath the sky
Byregot, Builder, the crafter's friend
Guards all those who build and mend
Ever does his hammer ring
Makes stone and metal both to sing
Rhalger, Destroyer, with fist of might
Sent shooting star to light the night
With staff of bronze, breaks what he must
That new life may grow among the dust
Azeyma, Warden, with fiery rays
Shines light on many truths and ways
With golden fan and radiant sun
Gives life and truth to everyone
Nald'thal, Traders, two in one,
With scales and cowry is his work done
Nald keeps the living and Thal the dead
He many merchants owe their bread
Nophica, Matron, with emerald leaves
Brings fruit in bushels, grain in sheaves
With scythe in hand and joyful song
Keeps lands fertile all year long
Althyk, Keeper, with axe and glass,
Makes space to stand and time to pass
Ever forward we find our ways
As his grains of said mark out the days
Thus ever does the epoch turn
And water flow and fire burn
Earth does rumble, ice does crack
And light and dark stand back to back
Levin to spark and wind to blow
And ever sea of aether flow
May Twelve watch over one and all
And guard all creatures great and small
His mother turned back to face him, her smile- having lost its hint of sadness- now glowed warm and bright. "Well done, darling," she said. "I'm sure the priest will be even more impressed than I am, though not half as proud, I suspect." Little Foulques, smiled at that, his young mind much more easily turned from darker thoughts, and his mother continued. "Now, be a good boy and fetch the big pot from in the low cupboard there, would you? Your father will be home soon and we must needs get the soup started if we're all to have dinner together."
Little Foulques nodded, hopping down from the chair to do as instructed as the memory began to fade. "You think he'll bring some meat home? The rabbit from last se'en night was yummy, but...."
*************************************************
"Matron's treats!", he exclaimed, not noticing- for the moment- how his oath was altered. "What sort of vision was that?"
Re: From Dawn to Duskwight
Date: 2023-05-29 11:59 am (UTC)From:Re: From Dawn to Duskwight
Date: 2023-06-02 01:50 am (UTC)From:"...I'd all but forgotten how proud she was when I devoted myself to my lessons. I was never a scholar, and I suspect she knew I never would be, but it always made her smile nonetheless. Her true smile, not one dimmed by the burden of fates' cruelty."
Re: From Dawn to Duskwight
Date: 2023-06-02 02:08 am (UTC)From:Re: From Dawn to Duskwight
Date: 2023-06-02 02:51 am (UTC)From:Re: From Dawn to Duskwight
Date: 2023-06-02 02:57 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2023-06-02 03:09 am (UTC)From: