#raichoose

drawing muses | accepting

Anonymous sent - 💕 ( Positivity Hearts - Accepting! )

💕

@raichoose​​

There’s a voice in the woods.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” It sounds like a child. A very small child. “Hello? Mama? Papa? Where are you? I’m scared!” There’s some odd quality to the little one’s voice. Something that can’t quite be placed- though perhaps that’s not important past their little pleas for aid. — from The Nightcaller, to Rosemary Walten

The odd quality to the child’s voice completely flies over Rosemary’s head. Yes, perhaps in another world, she might have picked up on it, for she is neither unintelligent nor unperceptive.

But with two missing children of her own - a beloved son and equally beloved daughter that she’s been forced to assume are dead - all she can think about is that she needs to help this lost child, before they become another casualty.

“Where are you?!” she shouts, running as fast as she can in the voice’s direction. “I’m coming to help you! Stay where you are, all right? Just keep calling for me!”

Ah, a response.

The beast stifles a warble of delight as his potential target calls back to him. Instead, the bony jaws of his mask part with a soft creak to set free another string of calls. Shallow mimicries of children he’s heard the voices of in the past.

“I’m over here! Please! Please help me! I’m stuck! I can’t get up! My leg hurts! Mama! Mama help me!” The distress in the voice is only growing. Blubbering sobs and gasps fill the foggy air, carrying on the breeze as the beast silently stalks towards where it hears the woman’s voice coming from.

Suddenly, the sounds are echoing all around her. The crying is more desperate. The child seemingly more distant. The fog itself seems to thicken and between two of the nearby trees lurks a shadow. At first glance, it seems to be nothing more than an impassive deer. The child’s voice suddenly returns near the trees and the animal.

Of all the things to happen today, Vaggie was not expecting a Goetian royal to be standing on the other side of the door. She could only stare up at the avian demoness in pure shock mixed with awe. Before she remembered that probably looked like an idiot standing there with her mouth agape.

@raichoose​ asked: 📖My Stella, if you'd like!

Dear Book of a Thousand Pages, 

I know you will not betray my secrets, and so I feel the freedom to divulge this. There are times when I fear my mother. There are also times when I love her. There are even more times when I both fear and love her. Allow me to elaborate: 

Stella. She is... How do I explain it? Winter and spring held captive in one soul. She is a warrior and cold, beautiful as ice, as biting as winter wind. In my dreams, I reach out to her, but she turns away, or observes me like an impassively angry god. And yet, there are bouts of springtime. A smile that actually reaches her eyes and makes them sparkle. A sincere congratulation on performance in the academy or an executed spell or my sparring form. She reaches for me but pulls herself away, and I pity her because I feel like I know her in those moments, completely and tragically. 

Springtime has not shown herself in many years, especially not after my father’s unveiled affair. She has been demanding that I stay with her a portion of every week, and I consent only because Father does, but I find myself curiously taken in by the many emotions dancing in her eyes when she walks next to me, head held high but with eyes deceptively gleaming. 

Is she afraid of being herself, just as I am? If so, we may just have more in common than I previously believed. 

Wish me luck on my future visit, for although I scarcely imagine I can mend the rift between our two houses, and two rings, perhaps I can coax springtime forth again, just once. 

Sincerely, 

Your increasingly sorrowful companion, 

@raichoose

Just like any other day in Pop Star, mainly in the country of Dream Land, it so happened to be a bright and sunny day. The sun was out to bring its rays towards the plant life, the hills looked alive and the wildlife critters scurried all about in the fields of Green Greens. Such a lovely and flawless day like this couldn’t only mean one thing and that appeared to be a fact soon becoming rather known to the residents; normally, on a day without any expectations would involve an invasion or purge within the kingdom. Either the people would be kidnapped, King would be used as puppet or maybe even both, considering that the latest incident occurred with both the royal leader and his people taken away from their own homes. Well, at this point, the majesty himself was accepting no chances whatsoever and was currently on the very lookout after hearing the recent news of some visitors.

He heard that the kingdom was being invaded. By whom or what in this matter? Well, in this case, owl people. That’s right. The invaders were described to be owls of some sort; tall and slender humanoids with beaks and feathers. One of the villagers asked if they were friends of the King, or perhaps even family members down a certain line, before being silenced by a mere glare and threat of permanent imprisonment.

What was happening currently was that the young lad made himself a nice little hideout in a tall tree residing in Green Greens, where he would try to locate the whereabouts of said owl invaders, hoping that they were friendly. “Right… where can I find ya? Up in the sky? Can y’all fly? Hmmm… man, wish Coo was here t’give me some pointers… he’d be better at this here, cos’ I dunno much. I should. I’m technically part penguin, even now…” he looked through his binoculars, hoping to see them in the sky.