SleepingSilence

RPGC #18: Adventure Calls - Prompt and Entries

@Frizan Voting opening soon?

Digimon: Soul Hunters

@BladeSS4@AngelofOctober@Landaus Five-One

Tristan

Music

Blinking, as if he blinked into a new schizophrenic existence. Rubbing his eyes only made him realize the shelved puppets were on both hands. Tristan felt so estranged by the familiarity of the home he loved. It was like the very fabric of reality reset, but the files were irreparably corrupted. Surrounded by unrecognizable homes filled by a sprawling countryside; the large barn beside their residence enclosed by their white-picket fence and harvested crop fields. A fabricated painted with perfect detail, it just happened to be detailed with numerous errors. Was that the sky glitching out? Was this a side-effect of the medicine? Oh, wait. He forgot he hadn’t taken his medicine yet...

“I’ve never had such an interesting dream before.” Tristan uttered with complete denial, messaging the back of his head; it was still sore from waking up. Quickly remembering why he ran out in panic in the first place, running around the house and noticing a couple red robins pulling out worms from the dirt. He sighed in relief, accepting the incongruity of the situation of the shadow of birds flying down for a morning snack, somehow appearing to be his sister falling from the roof. It must have been his imagination...

He glanced down at his puppets both pointed their arms in the same direction. Looking toward the barn; the doors were conspicuously creaked open. Heading that way to investigate; considering maybe he was the marionette attached to strings. Passing the stone well, hearing sounds like growling from the inside.

“Huh. Looks like Lassie needs a paw, anyone speak dog?” Angi chimed in, moving its mouth. Shushed by Tristan, Luci’s arm pressed against Angi’s lips. Slowly approaching and peeking down at the well, only seeing the water at the bottom.

“Doesn’t look like a boy is trapped in the well…” Tristan said with awkward laughter; partially to make light of these strange events, and also finding his own reference clever.”

“Not yet.” Luci commented with a sinister tone. Two beaming red eyes pierced through the water’s surface. Tristan bolted away from the well; and his house.

“That’s-it. You’re-both-so-grounded.” Tristan huffed between shallow breaths. Ending up amongst a group of three children, that were clearly not from around here. One boy and girl that both appeared to be similar in age, and an androgynous kid that couldn’t have been much older than his own younger brother. All of their expressions seemed to read that they were experiencing the same phenomenon; though overhearing the exact questions the older boy had asked confirmed that assumption.

“Uh. Pardon me?” Tristan interrupted with a polite smile, puppets both happily waving. Unfortunately, before uttering his own greeting. His stomach did so for him, letting out a moaning cry that donuts were calling his name. The puppets both immediately held their mouths, like they tried to stop themselves from bursting out into laughter. Was it too much to ask his dream, to boot up a new save?

RPGC #18: Adventure Calls - Discussion

I'm not entirely happy that I wasn't able to get all the editing done that I wanted. But that's how a busy schedule happens...

Look forward to reading the other entries.

Edit: Anyone who gets the theme of my story right gets an e-cookie. (I also hope the symbolism and wordplay and puns are appreciated by someone other than me. :P)

RPGC #18: Adventure Calls - Prompt and Entries

In very belated honor of mother's day...

Just Passing (Word Count: 3,340)

Ross carried the red cyclamens; a dozen bundled together like the battle scars bared on his bare back. Matching the amount of mosquito bites branding his knees. The tropical temperature towered tall as the kapok trees, as sweat drooled from his forehead. Like the unknown creature creating horrendous huffing noises, creeping closer while concealed beyond the creepers. Paranoia could only pray was watching something else’s every step. Elbowing checking the low hanging branches, blocking his march through the mud. Stopping to spot a brightly colored bird, perching on the opened plant’s pink surface, drinking from the nectar oozing out. Its carnivorous maw snapped shut; silencing shrill squawks. He related to the prey; shrouded from the sunlight, surrounded by an unpleasant unfamiliarity and swallowed whole by the depths of this dense jungle. As his shoes had been swallowed by the depths of the mud he tread in for two hours. His neck nearly snapping from the swift turn toward the sound of someone calling out from behind.

“Heeey.” Echoed softly in an easily distinguishable direction, as if it beckoned him. The same voice spoke out. Their accent was unfamiliar, but still clearly speaking his language. “Come Clossser.”

Pulling out a jagged dagger from the holster strapped to his hip, glancing at the blade embedded with his initials; ‘R.K’. He turned around and approached the plea, hoping that he wasn’t the sap about to be snared. Meeting a flash of light coming from the first opening in the canopy, seeing beaming from the skies. He was standing in a spacious area of understory. Facing an enormous elder tree that appeared to have a face carved into its trunk; big angled eyes, and a wide open entrance of blackness.

Suddenly, leaping out from shrubbery, a large saber-tooth tiger landed in front of the tree’s mouth. Five meters away from him, getting into a pouncing position. Ross puffed out his chest. Rising on his tippy toes and raising his weapon; ready to plunge it into the beast. Both preparing for one of them to die. Slam! A giant claw coated in green scales reached out from inside the mouth, and grabbed the tiger’s body. Yanking it into the darkness. Getting cold feet as the sounds of crunching bones brought shivers down his spine; feeling frozen in place. Staring in awe, as a pair of sizable serpent's eyes made their presence known.

“What bringsss you to my humble abode?” The snake asked tongue wiggling out. The man recognized the voice, it was the one calling from before. Taking a moment to catch the air that anxiety had stolen from his lungs.

“Just passing through,” Ross answered frankly, realizing whether intentional or not, his life was saved. “I’m searching for my mother...so I can apologize for not seeing her for so long.”

“Might I sssuggest a compasss?”

Pausing before he responded; Ross looked at the bugs crawling among ground. Not wanting to admit how embarrassing it was, that even a creature realized he was lost. The serpent remained silent, probably expecting an answer.

“A compass won’t help me find my mom’s location…” He uttered and shook his head. “I mean-I recently came home from fighting in the war. But it left me so shocked. I-seem to have forgotten exactly where she resides. I’ve been wandering since yesterday.”

“I have a sssolution for you.” The snake replied sounding confident. Slowly sticking out further until Ross noticed several rows of sharp teeth coming from a smug grin. “I have a friend that livesss by a dormant volcano. Ten kilometersss from here. They know the realm like the back of their wingsss.” Ross hardly believed it; but he nodded firmly.

“I’d appreciate the assistance. Thank you.” Bowing and staring at his flowers. “I’m not sure what I’ll say to her. Last time we spoke, we got in such a nasty fight. She didn’t want me to enlist and die as my father did- after I was born. But I insisted. What if she hates me?” His tone was flat and wavering.

“Nonsssense. Ssshe’ll be happy to sssee you again. Forgiving you with a big kisss and ssserving your favorite meal for dinner.” The snake assured pointing his head westward. “Jussst go that way, you’ll notice my friend alone as usssual.” The serpent's eyes glanced at Ross’s hands. “I wasssn’t going pry. But those flowersss look a little sssad. If I may interessst you, I secrete a special oil from my scales that can be used to pressserve. I can sssell it for the right price. Perhapsss, you could trade me that toothpick in your hand.”

He let out an awkward chuckle, quickly sheathing his blade. “No need. I’ll be handing them over soon.” Waving the creature off with a half-smile, then finding new found energy to bolt out of the jungle posthaste…

---

Leaving the heat to inhale the flames. The dormant volcano had fire spewing from all directions. Wiping his feet off on the foothill of the mountain. Picking out the worm guts between his toenails. The earthen mass ahead showing the solemn soul its splendor. It certainly was god’s creation; but the sole sign was carved in stone by the trail at the bottom. Bold and blood red. ‘Last warning! Stay out!’ It was almost like casting a curse, as the terrain started to shake underneath after reading the etched message. Starting his ascension and refusing to retreat. The stench of sulfur burned his nostrils; his surroundings bled in an orange hue, as thick crimson gas spewed out of fissures from the bedrock. The ground felt like walking on hot coal, continuing to climb. Spotting golden shimmering stones embedded inside the walls overhead. Hustling on, hearing huffing halfway into the haze he happened to head past. Peering at pyrolisk posturing on precariously pilled pyrite. Finally finding the friend among the clearing.

“Great job stupid! You ignored my warning about trespassing. Burning your flesh and lungs in the process. For a chance to steal my fools gold!” The chicken squawked, flapping his wings to send him skyward and violently landing beside Ross and scratching the stone. Ross coughed out the accumulated ashes he breathed in; attempting to clear his throat and calm his mind.

“Actually. I’m just passing by, because a snake from the forest told me you'd help me find my mother’s location from anywhere in the realm.” Ross corrected. The chicken folded his wings and scoffed, replying in an indignant tone.

“Is that so?” Causing an exploding tantrum, stomping around angrily and letting out a shout. “That damn slippery bastard is always cheating me out my beautiful treasures every time we play poker! He must really think he’s funny!”

Disregarding the first query of how monsters dabbled in cards. Ross couldn’t hesitate to utter his second, interrupting their fit. “Why would you hold so much value in something so worthless anyway? The mountain looks completely covered in pyrite...you could probably dig up whatever you wanted."

“I could find your mother. But you must do a task for me first.” The chicken interjected in a flat voice, pointing to a giant smoothed boulder sitting below a steep incline. “You appear strong enough. Push that rock back up. It rolled down and smashed into my treasure. Which I’ve painstakingly restacked all morning!"

Ross smiled and wasted no time, resting his flowers furthest away from the edge, the smoke and the bird as possible. No obstacle was big enough for him; an unstoppable force against an easily movable object. The soldier shoved with every ounce his might, with his singed toes beginning to bleed, making slow and agonizing progress. How high does one carry their own burdens before falling? Let alone another’s? Stress climbing as he did; realizing it would have been easier to throw it off the cliff, if he simply wanted it out of the way. Feeling foolish, his patience faltered like the stacks of fools gold. Startled from shouting in his ear, the pyrolisk hovering behind Ross. He fell on his knees with the boulder slipping from his grasp, tumbling down and plummeting to the fields below.

“Let me answer that snide remark, by asking my own question. I don’t understand why you’d struggle to search for someone, when all meatbags are practically worthless to me. Wouldn’t finding anyone do?” The pyrolisk sneered. Ross clenched his fists and stood.

“You’re wrong! My mother means the world’s weight in gold to me.” Ross shouted back. The pyrolisk got close enough to smell the smoky odor coming from his beak, snapping a retort.

“If you care so much. How did you lose her!? Why is she gone?!”

Ross roared out and punched the chicken’s beak crooked. Violence was simpler than answering, but once wasn’t satisfying enough. Refusing to connect the dots, like his following swings failed to connect to anything. Feeling the full force of retaliation from its claws tearing flesh. He collapsed with pride pooling from his wounds, blacking out in an instant…

---

Unable to recall how he ended up here; face mummified with gauze and wearing a flowing tattered white robe. Calling out into the desolate void that enveloped like a thick blanket of dread. Ross didn’t even have the concept of what time of day it was. Remaining lost no matter where he wandered. Questioning why this was happening? Suddenly, a bright beam of light revealed a deep ascending staircase. Fear gripped his throat; strangling his self aggrandizing and rendering him speechless. His body felt stabbed by an unbearable pain; like he was nailed to the cross and crucified. Clutching his face and screaming, bolting in the opposite direction. The corner of his view glimpsing dull glowing ghostly streaks gliding by. Tripping, palms hitting a damp wooden floor squeaking like an excitable mouse. The atmosphere had changed entirely, but the melancholy stayed alive. Which seemed ironic, considering the place was riddled with the dead. Tables, chairs, stools, counter tops, shelves lined with booze. The ceiling served as an enormous fish tank; the structures within, and that included the fish swimming in the waters. Big to small, from numerous unidentified creatures. Nearly everything but what he stood on, was crafted with bones.

A tall cloaked figure moved from behind the bar, taking its hood off. Exposing a goat skull head and curled horns. Pulling a lever on the wall, as a mounted human skull’s jaw stretched out. It leaked red liquid into the held glass, until the cup runneth over. Motioning with its boney hand to approach and take a seat. Ross stumbled closer and sat, reluctantly accepting the offering and sniffing the contents. The fruity aroma captivated his nostrils, which quickly went down the hatch. Gulping the goblet as grapes filled his gullet.

“Another...please.” Ross mumbled.

It was true nothing lasted forever, but the second glass was drained in seconds. Many minutes had passed since that request. Incapable to calculate the amount of wine he’d consumed. It was enough to no longer care that he’d been having a one-sided conversation with a demonic skeleton. The bartender’s multiple arms and tail’s clearing the empty glasses littering the counter, dyeing white rags burgundy to clean the mess. Ross exhaled deeply with a chuckle; then hiccuped.

“I can’t remember ever feeling so helpless. Mom raised me all by herself, always putting my needs first. She didn’t have to do that…She didn’t need to do that.” He said blubbering his last words. “I’d do anything to find her. What does it require to see her smile? Wrap around her warm embrace and say that I love her.” His pleading was met by the skeleton presenting something wrapped in cloth, and setting it down beside him. Ross’s eyes widening as he opened it, seeing his flowers. A deep inhuman voice responded, but instead of coming from their lips, it sounded like it spoke from the whole room.

“I wish I could help you more. But I’m closing the bar.” Ross staggered up, while his vision became blurry, carrying his mother’s favorite thing inside the cloth. The booming voice continued, “I can only implore caution on your journey. No one traverses here unless they’re connected with death...” The bartender spread out his arms exposing the emptiness beneath his robe.

Ross’s heart stopped; frozen in a moment of time. The room slowly scanned, showing skeleton-like shadows and specters sitting in every stool, slurring their speech and sipping on suds. In their hollowed eyes, their sad laughter putting unease in his heart. He could imagine their discontented cries of having entire afterlife, still complaining about not having enough time. Begging for another drink; despite not having money to pay, nor stomachs to satiate. The patrons drowning in their misery; like drinking kept them immortal. Shaking his head wildly in response, with tears streaming down his face. “Impossible. I’m of perfect health! I must be-” He protested between hiccups. His stomach churned and grew painful; desperately thinking of how to respond.

“Just passing by?” The bartender chimed in. Ross fled through a ribcage acting as two swinging doors, feeling himself free-falling into a bottomless abyss. Yet, he couldn’t feel like he sunk any lower…

---

Ross casted the first stone; full from gluttony, and not from the overindulgence of booze he hurled into the waters. Kneeling down by the shoreline and staring at what appeared to be a demon lurking beneath the surface. Among the ones clawing inside his head; telling him everything he done was for nothing. Amnesia was a fickle thing; never forgetting the war. Remembering he had no friends, nor family to speak with. Recognizing your lost in this world, when even knocking on death’s door doesn’t provide any answers. Faced with his actions; facial wounds bleed through his bandages, like the shade from the sun melting beyond the horizon. The shades of his moods; blue hues of bitterness, mixed with red violence turned violet, like the glow from the lily pads littering the lake. The frail frogs sang swan songs to the audience of fireflies that lit up the late sky, along with the stars.

The chill of the breeze blowing through his robes. Recalling his youth; going fishing just so they’d have something to eat. Taught how to swim by getting warned that mermaids lived in the depths, and if he tread too far they’d forever pull him under forever. Always begging the mother to bring him here; where she’d sing softly with the creatures to lull him to sleep. Knowing his mother cherished this place because she met his father there. But he could hardly blame her. Why take so long to visit such a wonderful nostalgic scenery? It grew quiet. He stood and stepped forward; wading into the water until it reached his waist. Breathing in and out, taking in the serenity. Suddenly, feeling his heels being grabbed and tugged on. His heart raced and tears swelled in his eyes, punching his fist into the water.

“Let go...”

He punched again.

“Let go.”

Slamming his fist!

“Let go!”

Hitting again and again; making larger splashes.

“Let go! Let go! Let go! Let GO!”

Ross slamming both fists down.

“LET GO!”

The scream echoed; shattering the stillness. Following his exasperated breaths, the seaweed being defeated by the blows and floating off. Collapsing into his palms to sob, tasting the salt from his tears.

“I-can’t…” Ross strained out of his vocal chords. “I can’t do this alone.”

---

“Who said you were ever alone?”

He heard sounds of whistling wind and fluttering wings. A white swan feather descended into the palm of his hands; the stink of shoe polish piercing his nostrils. Catching glimpse of an angelic-like wings tarnished with dirt. A old gentleman flying overhead; clearly having translucent glass eyes, with a shirt, slacks and socks covered in soil; with a fishing pole in hand.
The sole exception was his shiny and spotless shoes. An expression that seemed like he was thinking for an answer, before a question was asked.

“I’m a groundskeeper of a nearby graveyard. So I spend a lot of my time looking down. How else to put a smile on my face, then seeing myself in pristine condition? Least as far as my eyes can see...” The gentleman explained sounding researched, letting out an uplifting chuckle. Ross remaining quiet for a moment, feeling the soft feather between his fingers as the gentleman spoke up again.

“A feather for your thoughts?”

Ross complained about his other encounters, and explained the trials and tribulations of war. The torture and the cycle like a cyclone of suffering that stole anything he loved in the upheaval. A tornado rampaging through a tiny town, tearing away the tangible and temporal. Learning even faith could be shattered like glass with enough blunt force bashing your comrades skulls in. Beating around the bush, until finally divulging his dilemma.

“I’ve searched everywhere and tried everything, every question...I just want to apologize to my mother-”

“Nobody that fails has tried everything. You just haven’t tested the right method for success yet.” The groundskeeper quickly corrected with a gentle smile. “Have you asked for her name?”

Ross acted shell-shocked, so simple yet somehow completely slipping his consciousness. He spoke his mother’s name, causing the groundskeeper to solemnly nod.

“Come, take my hand. I know where you’ll find her...” The gentleman offered, along with his outstretched fingers. Ross glared with disbelief, barely able to swallow the cat caught in his throat; whose fangs sunk into his tongue.

“Not so fast! You expect me to trust another total stranger after the day I’ve had? No way.” Ross stood defiant without any grounds, his mind and feet adrift in the waters. Losing arguments with his own crippling fears; it was clear even the greatest soldiers lost battles of the heart. Living inside a kaleidoscope life; emotions constantly changing without reason and unable to see what was truly there. His vision blurred lines of reality with mirrored fantasy, it was easier to believe in mermaids than the imaginary threat of seaweed pulling him under.

But both of his reflections meant equally nothing; his struggles were in vain. His desires like a pebble he’d thrown into the bottom of a lake, insignificant in scope and known to nobody else. Realizing he’d been walking dead with a pulse and acting comatose, when wearing scars proved that he had been living with purpose. Ross finally reached up reluctantly, but the gentleman was just a little too high to touch. He unconsciously splashed water in the gentleman’s direction. “Can you come down here?”

“You’ll have to try a bit harder than that.” The gentleman answered. “And try not to get my shoes soaked.”

Even seemingly selfless acts always showed signs of vanity. Ross furiously fighting the force of gravity in futility, grabbing the groundskeeper’s fishing rod. Reaching up for the answer he desperately sought, lifted off the ground with an upward pull. Closer to heavens than he’d ever been, flying for such a short stretch of seconds. Surrounded by wooden crosses, reading a stone plaque with a written message. ‘The body became ashes sprinkled in the lake. Her soul somewhere better. Her memories will always be cherished.’ Tears fell on his mother’s name beneath his feet, resting the flowers on her grave.

“I’m-so-sorry mom. I never meant to make you cry...”

Ross accepted the fact that his mother was the type to forgive. Finally able to do the hardest thing one does in life; say their goodbyes. Ross turned to thank the gentleman; but he was already gone. Where’d he go? Was he ever really there at all? He’d have time to ponder that on the long road back home...

Though it’s true every story had an ending, and perhaps this journey that became a war of self was finally over. Maybe Ross would have another adventure someday, maybe it will be written down for any curious soul that seeks the thrill of adventure and release of their own losses. But what do I know? I’m just a passing narrator...

The end?

Sum up your week in roleplaying in just 3 words

I'm overdoing it...

RPGC #18: Adventure Calls - Discussion

@Frizan Just making sure. Because it's going to be a close one for me, from how busy I've been. The entries close on midnight on the 25th right? Since the 24th is the last day of submission. (What timezone?)

Post a random fact about yourself.

I actually -write- instead of talking about how others should write, or how I would write if I ever actually roleplayed. Nor have I made an active effort to do anything but...

RPGC #18: Adventure Calls - Discussion

I still plan on getting an entry in. But if I don't manage it, fault is my own for failing time management. (If no one else posts anything, I don't want any slack. Everyone received plenty of grace time.)

But I'm going to spending even more days working and afk. So I hope I'll be able to finish the last fifth of my own story and edit and add more to the bare bones, if it feels necessary. (and if I can manage to have free time to do that writing.) ^-^'

Digimon: Soul Hunters

Tristan

Click. Click.

Bump...Bump...Bump…

His drumbeat heart pounded on. Stomach convulsing in uncertainty. Fearing his chest would become a chasm, with his intestines spilling out onto the library. His mouse hovered over his email’s inbox, like one holds a gun’s trigger. Receiving his first email from anyone. Anticipation coursed through the curious teenager's veins, opening Pandora’s Box. Face growing pale as the computer screen. Previously sitting alone, faced with an army of thousands. Binary code covered the canvas, but clicking continuously caused crashing. A message that appeared encrypted, flashed across the screen long enough to be read before his surroundings were shrouded in darkness. A computer melody twisted with static screeching pierced his ears. Did the place have one of those things described as a 'power outage'?

Sweat dripped from the tip of nose, tasting the salt when licked off. White light blasted from the monitor. Mirroring his perplexed expression, pinned to his seat like nails had been hammered through his soles. He couldn’t get up from the office chair, or look away as the reflected face began glitching. Contorting into a grotesque smile with rows of sharp teeth…

“Oww...” Tristan groaned. Groggy eyes staring up at the bed his upper half fell out of. His pillow, now the carpet his head conked down on. Tangled in his bed sheets, not dissimilar from a fish in a net. His MP3 player lying his bare chest. Music playing from the headphones, beginning to loosen the cord wrapped around his neck like a serpent. Just as a worm writhed about in the dirt. He squirmed backward on the ground, until his whole body touched the ground. Managing to thrust himself up on two feet. Turning his MP3 player off, and quickly setting his electronics on the cleared bedside table. Scratching at his bed head, wiping his warmly drenched forehead. Glancing at the mirror hanging from his room’s wall, beaming a pearly white grin.

“Another good morning today.”

---

Exhaling through the clouds amassed behind the curtains, fogging the bathroom window. The hot pressurized water rained down on his back, cleansing soapy skin. Feeling like a god was massaging his shoulders. Still blessed everyday that electricity had been allowed in his previous Quasi-Amish farmer lifestyle. Happily singing a tune, while bending over and reaching for the shampoo. He stopped and held his breath. Hearing subtle noises creeping from the inside the bathroom. He knew it wasn’t coming from natural causes. Low growling breaths that weren’t his own. Noticing a black creature’s hands reaching inside the bathtub, opposite side to the showerhead. Grabbing ahold of the curtains and pulling them with a sudden burst!

“Rawr!” The black puppet popped out, his younger brother’s voice growled out with a laugh. Tristan glanced from behind he curtains, exchanging smiles with his sibling. Noticing multiple pairs of pajamas on the lying crumpled on the floor. His clean clothes all hanging from the towel rack.

“Don’t get Luci wet. You know he’ll get upset and melt like The Wicked Witch.” Tristan playfully remarked, mimicking the high and squeaky voice. “What a world. What a wooorld.” His younger brother smiled and gave a firm nod, stepping away from the shower.

“Dad wanted you to do laundry today, and wash both our dumb sisters bed sheets. Sable spilled paint all over her bed! And Alexa, wet the bed again!” The brother exclaimed in a disparaging tone.

“Alright. But don’t call them dumb, that’s not nice. Could you please put your P.J’s and mine in the laundry hamper?” Tristan’s polite tone sending his brother away, picking up the dirty clothes and heading off, closing the door behind him. Not long after, resuming his shower until he finished the rest of his typical morning routine…

---

Fully dressed, finished dealing with his sister’s sheets. Letting them play outside while waiting for his father to return home with the neighbors freshly baked raisin bread and jelly donuts for breakfast. Ascending the staircase to the second floor and heading into his room, approaching the bedside table. Noting his bedsheets were already made, with the black puppet resting atop his pillow. Picking up his music player in his right hand and putting his headphones on, off his ears. Inserting his hand into the puppet with the left, and turned around to look into the mirror. Beginning to move the puppet’s hands and mouth.

“Did we scare you?” Tristan chided playfully in Luci’s voice, a deeper tone. It danced about in triumph. Tristan shook his head.

“Nope, you’ll have to try harder than that to scare me.” Tristan answered back in his own voice. Luci tapped its chin a few times, as it pondered its response.

“Hmm. Maybe the next time your brother takes me out of the dresser. I’ll grab him by neck. Lead him into the bathroom and shove his head into a tub of water. Holding him underneath while he thrashes about helplessly, screaming as water fills his lungs. Until the last bubble-” The voice stopped with a gasp. Tristan’s felt shivers down the back of his spine and felt frozen in place. Luci danced again seemingly pleased with such a reaction. “Did I scare you now?”

Before responding, interrupted by the sound of his brother stampeding through the hallway toward his doorway. Tristan turned his attention to his brother with hands behind his back, stopping just beyond entering the room.

“I made your bed to apologize for playing with Luci without your permission.” The brother explained, extending his hands out with Luci within his grasp. “I’m here to give him back. Dad’s home.”

Tristan blinked and glanced in the mirror, seeing the white puppet he wore. After rubbing his eyes didn’t change reality, he simply smiled politely and took the puppet back. Carefully laying them both in his top dresser drawer, and shutting it without another word.

“Go downstairs and save me some jelly donuts. I might go for a walk...I just want to check the weather-” Tristan replied turning to look at the sunlight peeking through his window. But his young brother had already ran before finishing the sentence. Stepping up to his window and unlatching it. It was too fast to make out. A child sized shadow of a figure, plummeted outside from the rooftop. There was no conscious decision in that moment. Tristan immediately bolted out his room, leaping past half the staircase and rushed outside...

RPGC #18: Adventure Calls - Discussion

My god. I didn't realize how busy I'd be while still trying to write a prompt. I really ended up needing all the spare time I could get. ^-^'

---

@Calle Hey, the good news is if nobody else posts a story in a week. You just win by default. xP