#shared story

Start of the adventure: The Sky is Calling

The poll concluded with more votes for flying south to the forest.

This is a little story my friend and I worked on together! We worked on two of these (I'll post that one as well)

In the dead of night, when the moon did not shine and the sun was as far away as it ever would be, the stars shined bright. Some never knew the stars, for they feared the dark and all within it. Few people, such as Moelwen, knew that the dark was not something to fear, but rather to revere. Moelwen knew that the creatures born of shadows were not monsters, but simply, creatures. He meticulously timed his sleep so that he could wake at that precious hour and still wake up with the town. He’d walk to the ocean shore where the smooth dark stones would welcome him and simply gaze towards the western horizon, sometimes, he swore, something gazed back. Whenever he felt the gaze of something greater, rapture would fill his heart. Sometimes the gaze was from above, where the stars lit up the sky, sometimes the gaze would come from the ocean below. Today, he felt that gaze from the stars above, feel it like an oncoming storm. He looked up in awe, and he could make out the silhouette of something great. He could not see the stars he knew so well behind the vast entity. Despite clearly seeing the silhouette he struggled to describe what he was seeing, it was almost as if it was undulating. It could be described as vaguely humanoid in shape, legs, torso, arms, head, at least it came off that way. Gazing up he vaguely noticed that it was moving closer to the ocean below. His eyes grew blurry looking at this incredible being as it started sinking into the oceans depths without so much as a ripple. Just before it sunk below, it opened its eyes.

Hi tumblr world! I’m feeling a little glum, so figured I’d extend an invitation to anyone who’d like to play House of Ashes, Man of Medan, or Little Hope with me (doesn’t have to be right this minute, or in one sitting). I have the games for Playstation

Open to either messaging or voice chatting on Discord and following whatever path or trophies you’d like to try to get. Jalim run? Feed the vampires? Everyone’s as rude as possible in Man of Medan? Final girl Fliss? Do Nothing/Fail everything in Little Hope? Accuse the little girl? Whatever we’re feeling and leave the other player guessing?

There is this one person from  my past that sent me a long message. As I read the content of his message, I had this mixed feeling towards the message. First, I felt sad and angry as well because as I read the whole messages I suddenly return to those painful days and nights that I’ve been through bearing those painful moments and led me to question myself like “what’s wrong with me? What did I do? Am I not enough?” I suddenly realized that I am regretting those crying nights and time and chances  just to prove that I am worth it....  I am enough. 

I want to slap and yell to my past self. But I can do nothing more. I can no longer change the past. That’s me. That’s the old me. 

Second, I am disappointed to myself because I let myself be that worst and weak  person ever. 

Third, I am thankful because I believe those chapters are God’s plan for me to help me become a better version of myself today and tomorrow. 

Lastly, I am happy because I survived. I am here today telling these stories and carrying the lessons I’ve learned along the way. 

“Maraming darating na maling tao na makikilala at magiging parte ng buhay at magtuturo ng mga aral sa buhay na magagamit sa hinaharap.” And this is so true. 

"Zeus, please..." she whispered to the sleeping god. "Please just let me be enough for you. I'll do anything."

“Anything? Really?”

The voice startles Hera. She looks up, surprised to see someone perched on the bedroom window sill. She's half-hidden behind the thin white sheer curtains, but Hera instantly recognizes her smile - her perfect smile.

Hera whispers, angry, “Aphrodite.”

Aphrodite's smile widens, and she jumps off the window sill to enter the room.

Her long white chiton falls perfectly on her body, and the gold jewelry she wears contrast beautifully with her tanned skin. She's gorgeous, and Hera hates her so much.

“Yes, my Queen, me. But I didn't come alone, don't worry.”

A small warm wind enters the room, shaking Aphrodite's curly hair, and Hera feels like a sultry voice is whispering secrets in her ear.

She turns around, and Eros is leaning against the wall behind her. He looks thoughtful, and bows to her. “My queen.” He is as beautiful as his mother.

An ornate bow and quiver are hung on his back, and Hera chills at the thought of being hit by one of his arrows. They both come forward, as silent as predators, and an indefinable tension sets in the room.

It's a strange scene, the one that takes place in the bedroom. The three of them are turned towards sleeping Zeus, Hera kneeling and leaning over him, and Eros and Aphrodite on the sides of the bed. She imagines for a moment what would happen if he woke up, and shivers again.

It's Eros' turn to speak, in a silky soft voice. “You would be willing to do anything for his love, really?” His words are like a caress on Hera's skin, and she turns her desperate gaze to him.

A playful finger brushes her bare shoulder and Aphrodite is beside her, seductive. “Such dedication is well worth a reward ...”

Dedication, she said, realizes Hera. Not love.

The finger is replaced by lips, which deposit a  kiss as light as a feather, and then Aphrodite takes a step back. Hera is almost disappointed by the loss of warm that Aphrodite emanates, then blames herself for having such thoughts.

She feels like a prey stuck between the paws of two felines who want to have fun with her, and she doesn't even have the strength to defend herself. Eros holds out his hand, and his blue gaze almost locks her in place.

Aphrodite purrs. “Come with us.”

Hesitant, awkward, Hera gets off the bed, and grabs Eros' hand. He's warm, like his mother, and Hera wonders if it's because love should be like that. For her, love has always been a dagger of ice stuck in her heart.

Aphrodite seems to hear her thoughts, and her smile softens. She brushes a strand of hair away from Hera's face, and Hera feels so desperate. She just needs love. She's ready to beg for it.

Aphrodite takes her other hand and whispers, soothingly. “Don't worry, my Queen, everything will be fine.”

Hera lets herself go in the aura of love emanating from the two gods, and closes her eyes as a warm wind blows them away from the bedroom, and from sleeping Zeus.

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Based off of prompt by Krystal:

Everyone knows Hera as Zeus’s wife and Queen of the Gods and Heavens. She has the life that many yearn for. Yet, she’s as jealous and bitter as she is powerful. Why? Maybe it’s because she’s the goddess of marriage, yet hers is crumbling before her eyes. Maybe it’s because she constantly compares herself to the nymphs and maidens Zeus sleeps with, or perhaps it’s because it reminds her too much of her parent’s corrupt marriage. Either way, her facade of a strong goddess had shattered in front of her husband; she was simply a maiden desperate for love now.

The faun, whose job it was to shovel hay into the stable for the hungry horses, is staring at her with wide eyes.  A single fuzzy ear on the side of his head twitches. 

The girl beams before slipping and sliding down the hay heap.  She giggles and claps her hands as she comes to the bottom of the pile.  Her dress, light purple, woven with extreme precision and care, is also dotted with specks of hay.  A small tear is at the bottom hem, but she is too little and enchanted with her surroundings to care. 

“Hi!” she chirps.  Then her eyes widen and she gapes at the fuzzy, bent legs that make up the bottom half of the faun.

“You’ve got goat feet!” she shrieks while pointing at his legs.  The faun blinks at her, again, and that same ear twitches before he looks down at himself. 

“...Ah...yes.  I do.”

Has this girl never seen a faun?  True, she only looks about six or seven, but still...!  He’s a little taken aback that she’s never seen one before today.

Which, now that he’s thinking about this whole matter, that’s probably the least important detail, really.  There are more pressing questions, like:

“How did you get here?” He reaches for her, lifting the little girl into the air and moving her to a less hay-filled part of the stable.  She has bare feet, and the biggest, shiniest, purplish eyes that stare back at his own with wide curiosity.  There’s something certainly otherworldly about them, despite her very human appearance.  

She obliges being moved, and smiles at him the whole time.

“I’m Glenn!”

“...I’m Verdai.”

Glenn beams and bops the faun on the nose.  Her fingers tingle with warmth and the air around her seems to sparkle. 

“I like that name!  That’s a good name.  But you’re all mixed up.  You look like a person ‘cept your legs!”

Verdai nods along, ruffling the girl’s mussed, silvery-blue hair.  

“Yeah..I know.  I’m not messed up, really.  This is how-..”

He trails.  Where a little girl had been standing a second ago, he’s now talking to a bit of empty air.  Verdai blinks, turning around in a circle, then rubs his eyes and walks out into the open field just beyond the stables. 

“...Glenn?”

The palace sorcerer is making his way past the field at this same time, waving to anyone he meets on the road with a lazy smile.  Sometimes he even tosses a few coins to the traveling beggars and minstrels.  He’ll have to put in his horse at the stable, where Verdai is currently rushing about, yelling some name that he wouldn’t know. 

What the sorcerer doesn’t realize is the small bundle that’s now seated on the back of his horse, playing happily with the ribbons on the horse’s tail and watching the palace loom before them with wide, purple eyes.  She is well-hidden in the sorcerer’s flowing, sparkly cape, and it’s here that Glenn intends to remain until she gets bored and decides to teleport somewhere new.  

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Firstly, he was a pirate, through and through.  Secondly, he was a elf.  His sharper features and pointed ears testified to this.  None of this “half-elf” business was to be spoken around him.  Half-elves never got a good rep, and he wanted no part in it.  Thirdly, and tied to Number Two, was that his name was Alabaster.  Not “Albert” or some mundane, grossly human name that he might’ve received at the orphanage he had run from.  Out here on the sea, he was Alabaster.  And fourthly, he had no need of friends.  He had comrades among his crew, a family on this ship.  He had no acquaintances, no pen pals, no connections beyond the safe haven of this ship. 

Not that anyone believed Fact Number Four.  Not with the way he paced the narrow deck of the schooner, ears flat against the sides of his head, hands wrapped behind his back. 

A few lazy members watched on as Alabaster wove between the two masts, pausing every now and again to look back on the horizon, to the fuzzy blob of inland that was vanishing into the blue expanse.  Even just seeing it made his blood boil.  Those..inhuman scum...!

“Albert,” the captain called, opening a cabin door.  Alabaster spun on his heel, ears swiveling to the sound of his captain’s barking voice.  He paced across the deck, coming to a halt with a curt nod and a disgusted frown on his face.

“I’ve told you not to call me that-” he grumbled.

“Does it look like I care?” The captain jabbed a thumb to the shadowed hallway beyond the little door. “You can go and see ‘im now, if you’d like.”

Alabaster peeked around the captain, and with another nod, he ducked into the hall.  The wooden floorboards creaked and rocked beneath his feet, but he neither noticed nor cared.  The continuous roll was as familiar to him as the air he breathed.  Brine and salt sat heavily in the little hallway, mingling with the faint tendrils of cooking meat and gravy from the galley.  It was a well-worn path to the captain’s quarters, and Alabaster knocked once before letting himself in. 

“Good morning, Fishy,” he mumbled as a greeting.  He reached for a lamp, turning up the wick, throwing his shadow along the wall in a discordant dance.  Then he turned to face their guest, taking him in with a long stare.  Perhaps it was rude, but it wasn’t every day one saw a merman without his tail. 

His real name was Adrian, some merman that Alabaster had stuffed in a barrel, once, before he had won over the favor of the entire crew and Alabaster had been forced to release him (it definitely wasn’t because the half-elf had a soft spot for him).  But Adrian was a far cry from the snarky merman who had managed to befriend a band of pirates.  Alabaster had been forced to half-drag him off that bit of island, with Adrian hanging off his side, damp, shell-shocked...

...he was still shell-shocked, if his silent, still posture was anything to go on. 

“We’re on course for Sashafya,” Alabaster tried again.  He scooched the lamp across the table, as if this would help warm the young man.  His earrings glinted in the candlelight.  

Again, he was met with silence.  Adrian was dressed in dry clothing pulled from some corner of a crewman’s closet.  His feet - legs and feet were so odd to see on him, since Alabaster knew he was a merman - had been covered in a pair of Alabaster’s own boots.  But his hair was still damp.  His wrists sported chafed rings from the rope that had bound them.  And his expression was something distant and unreadable. 

“...Adri?  You in there?” 

Alabaster waved a hand in front of Adrian’s face.  No response.  Hardly so much as a blink. 

He stepped back, crossing his arms, then grabbed the glass of water sitting by the lamp. 

“Here, Fishy.  Some good ol’ water.  How about you-”

Adrian jerked, his hand and arm flying out and knocking the cup from Alabaster’s outstretched hand.  It tumbled to the floor, smashing the glass across the floor with a sound that made Adrian jerk again.  He gasped, pulling his head down and tugging at his wet hair, trying to make himself small in the desk chair. 

Alabaster stared at him a long moment.  An ear twitched.  

“...I’ll clean up this.  And get you more water, I guess.  Or maybe..” he paused to examine Adrian again. “...something stronger.”

Yeah..some whiskey might be more helpful in a situation like this, though it wasn’t like it mattered to Alabaster.  No!  He just didn’t want the captain to blame him for getting glass on his cabin floor!  

He didn’t have friends.

Fact Number Four, remember? 

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Adrian belongs to @supesofherown