[open quest] trick or treat?

[Officials]

It has been a long time since the doors of death were loosened. So long that it seems normal, to those who remember. So long that for others, they have forgotten all together that the world was changed on that day. There were always cracks between the worlds, but still, the gates yawn wide and foreboding, for those that care to look.

There is something particularly interesting about tonight, though. The air is cooling, the breezing moving steadily out from the gates which still stand ajar. For those curious enough, clever enough, to sense this strange and unusual breeze and to follow it, they will find the gates. Standing in the doorway is a figure, shrouded in shadows, with no face or defining features.

Yes, there were many horses that came through those gates, but did anyone else stop to wonder what else might come through?

As others gather, it simply stands there. Is it waiting? Is it dead? Is it guarding the doors? The actual purpose of this...thing…is rather unclear. Finally, after seems like ages (though is perhaps only minutes)...

”TRICK OR TREAT!?!”

Apparently, it wants to ask a question.

spooky thing

This is a lightweight writing quest. Everyone will get a prize, though many will be small prizes. There are only two rounds and prizes will be chosen by random drawing so you don’t have to stress about your grammar or whatever, but you do have to write actual replies or it won’t count.

You have until 11:59pm ET on November 4th to answer the question….(there is no wrong answer). One entry per player.

[Laurelin]

Laurelin knew nothing about the gates to the afterlife, didn’t even really understand the beach or the function of it. All he knew is that there was something interesting about the breeze tonight and he was in the mood to investigate. He’s nearly two years old he’s old enough to investigate spooky winds on his own. Though he does let his mom know first. He’s not suicidal. The navy colt stands a wary distance away from the figure when he arrives, mindful enough to be careful. Not careful enough not to answer the freaky apparition when it asks a question, though. It’s only polite to answer. He tilts his dark head and blinks his sky blue eyes a couple times as he considers his answer. “Uh, treat!” Laurelin had never been a fan of tricks unless he was the one pulling them.

image from unsplash

[wilt]

WILT

He moves quietly across the common lands on his spindle legs. The air is crisp and all the trees are lamenting the imminent loss of their beautiful red and orange leaves. Wilt collects a few with his pointed black teeth and tucks them carefully in his mane and tail. He gets tired of being the color of midnight, sometimes. These are all the shades of life here, bright against his coat. The flytraps snap their teeth as they compliment his choices.

His ears perk at the sound of the question and he skitters closer. There is already another here, but he doesn’t mind standing near the child and loom over him. Wilt offers a grin that is all teeth as he considers his answer. He loves a nice treat, but perhaps they do not have the same idea of what a treat could be!

“Trick,” he answers in a snickering hiss. The flytraps all echo his laughter with their tiny mouths. The vines raise like serpents as his excitement builds.

[Borderline]

despite the overwhelming odds, tomorrow came

There was something eerie in the air this night, something calling to me like a whisper in the winds, beckoning me into a land unknown. Yanhua was asleep, and I rose quietly so as not to disturb him, and sought out the chilled night air. A shiver ran through me, though it could have been the feeling left by the eeriness surrounding me and not the cold autumn air that would quickly turn to winter air very soon.

I step quietly through the underbrush. I had followed this path enough times now to know it like the back of my hoof. I tread easily along the path, avoiding the snarled roots that rise up in my way, my delicate movements mere millimeters from them, though expertly navigating them. My ears twitch, taking in all of the forest sounds around me. My eyes are wide and searching, letting in all the light that the full moon above provides.

I follow the haunting whisper. It leads me away from the familiar path, and out of Taiga, to completely foreign lands. I glance at the moon, hoping it will help guide me home again, though secretly worried that I will not be able to find my way home again. I take in a deep breath, trying to remember the scents of everything as it changed, from woodland to fields and meadows, and then finally to a door that seems to come from nowhere and everywhere all at the same time.

In that door stood a figure, indiscernible, but eerily presiding over those that had ventured this far. It waited. It could have been an eternity or mere minutes, but the silence was deafening. It hurt my heart to hear. And then it spoke, three words that felt like death in my soul. Three haunting words, “trick or treat?” it asked.

I cringe at it, not knowing how I should feel, but one thing was for certain, I felt that I must answer this…thing. So I stand on trembling hooves, looking up at him with what little courage I could muster, and I said: “treat?” I was hoping to sound brave, but what came out was a meek squeak.

borderline

Photo by Sharon McCutcheon from Unsplash

[xii]

I do not remember falling asleep, yet I am sure I have just been wakened by the soft rush of wind against my velveteen ears. It is dark, well past sunrise, and the eerie sensation of loneliness runs a cold finger down the back of my brown spine. Ahead, between the dark trees and the darker shadows, stands a figure. It is too dark to see, and I have no intention of getting closer.

Instead I wait, uncertain, and start at the sudden explosion of a question. Loud enough to e heard even across the distance that separates us, I am once more chilled by a sense of unease. Magic, I think, and not the kind that I am familiar with. Perhaps this place is not Beqanna after all, I find myelf thinking. Perhaps it is one of the gateways to the underworld.

Trick or treat?

Is it offering me a choice? The accentuation of its words is like that of the grey stallion and a the pale filly, the words understandable but with a foreign lilt. I frown, and my long ears flick uncertainly while my hind legs are brushed repeatedly by the swaying of my black-haired tail.

“Treat,” I answer, with the scant bit of hope that perhaps the creature will treat with me in a civil manner rather than attempt trickery.

[Moonlet]

There is a startling bite to the air and a curl of fog that beckons to her like a finger. She follows it, which may not be the wisest decision that Moonlet has ever made but she also can’t think of a worse decision to make. The fog leads her to an interesting feature of the landscape that she’s never noticed before; some forgotten corner that she has yet to explore.

It is a set of gates that have been left open. If she finds that odd at all, she doesn’t voice it aloud or even reflect it on her face as she halts before them. Funny, she hadn’t noticed the small but growing gathering of horses that stand there too. It was like their scents were masked by something otherworldly like the thing that hails them with but a single question —

“Trick or treat?”

She had to think for what seemed like a very long moment but was probably only a matter of minutes too. Most of the answers were for treats and one for trick from a character that looked like he had a few tricks hiding in his eyes. Who was she to judge though? Her attention reverting back to the shadowy apparition that stood before them, appearing to wait. 

“Treat please,” she answers, oddly mindful of her manners as that strange breeze that blew her here on a wisp of fog continues to unfurl past them, probably drawing more to this strange gathering. 

[Clegane]

It wasn't unusual for Clegane to follow an eagle for an entire day, just to see where it nested for the night, or to follow a strange wind to find its source.

But there is little joy in him as he follows this trail, and before many miles have passed, the stallion's scarred face sets like stone. He knows the scent of death, and he can not explain to himself why he follows it now. What he thinks he will learn.

When the mottled pegasus halts before the gates, he is not alone. He glances over the others, disappointed there are no faces that look familiar, before watching the creature that guards the gates. But when the entities question pierces the foreboding silence, his dove-grey wings fluttering above his topline as he gives a start. 

"Um..." he hesitates as others supply their answers, thinking the right response was obvious enough to be a trick of its own. But Clegane is not much of a gambler, and he makes the decision least likely to land him in trouble. "Treat..." he finally says, trying to make his voice sound sure and strong, but not quite accomplishing his goal.

[Sympathetic Gore]

You've got to hurt before you heal

He'd been wandering the outskirts of the mountain, searching for a carcass to recount stories to, in hopes that the words of the living would soothe the restless dead - despite his inability to actually see them or speak with them, he liked to imagine that his stories brought comfort to their chilled bones. His dusty green hairs stood on end as a strange chill filled the air, causing the slender stallion's ears to prick upwards, his curled and tangled locks dancing slowly in the gentle breeze of the night as he searched for the source of the strange feeling.

Curiously, there seemed to be an entity in the distance, not too far off from where he himself stood. Cracked, dirty hooves cautiously moving across the ground beneath him, his scrawny figure was wobbly with each step, and his gait resembled more of a limp in some ways. As he approached the figure, his curious heart pounded in his chest with both excitement and fear, a mixture of feelings that only served to nudge him closer to the strange entity.

Gore waited patiently with bated breath, worried that if he spoke first he would make a very rude first impression - and he had a pet peeve for poor manners. When the shadows spoke, a wide grin spread across his pale features, a glimmer of excitement sparking through his red eyes. Trick or treat? A strange question from an even stranger figure, he had to mull it over in his mind for a moment, before speaking.

"A gift from the unknown is a true surprise indeed, I'd like a treat if you please." His voice was both tremulous and gravelly, and his smile did not fall for even a second as the words escaped his lips.

Sympathetic Gore

[Mikael]

With the wary purpose of a young stallion on his own, Mikael moved from one common land to another. Occasionally he reappeared in his birthland to visit with family. To look in on his ageing mother and ageless kin. As is often the way with young souls however, the wind would whisper in his ears before long, and he would be off. 

In the brisk autumn air, he plodded on without a set destination in mind. Perhaps he'd go home for the winter. The cold months were more tolerable when there were stories shared and bodies to press against. Already, frost was gathering on the grass and in his mane when morning came, and it wouldn't be long before the first snows came along to blanket the world. 

He didn't mind, really. And fall meant other things besides the cold. It meant ripe apples and persimmons, flocks of geese overhead, rutting deer in the woods. It was another turn of the wheel, and he enjoyed it. So much in fact, that he wore it on his skin. Why not, when he had the ability? Today he was mottled gold and bronze, brown and russet. A forest of change in an abstract coat pattern that let him move with such subtlety through the trees. 

A hough of hot breath froze as he exhaled it, a misty cloud that whirled away as the sun illuminated it. A contented smile played on his lips, that faded as a sound reached him. No, that wasn't right. Not a sound so much as a feeling. As a suggestion. His gold-merled muzzle lifted uncertainly, doubt seeping in that he had sensed anything at all. 

Then it was there again. The faintest pulse of feeling that drew on his curiosity, pulled him deeper into the woods. It seemed like a whim, to thread his way between thicket and grove, to step off the beaten path and go deeper still. There was more dark than light in this corner of the forest. A chill of apprehension ran it's claws lightly down his back. 

"Who's there?" He asked, loudly, looking for the presence he was now certain existed just out of sight. Blunted teeth gleamed in the dusky underforest, a threat that would have been much more impressive with his father's abilities. 

What revealed itself was not what he expected. 

In the murky woods, a figure half-seen, half-felt quite suddenly existed. The trees rippled around it in a way that seemed far from natural, and set Mikael's equine survival instincts flashing. Oh, but there was another side to him. That feline curiosity that kept him looking forward, and told him he would forever regret not seeing what happened next. 

For that long moment it was a stalemate, with him staring and the unfixed figure looming. So long that he thought he might have to say something again soon, if only to break the silence that gnawed on his bones the longer they stood in place. 

"TRICK OR TREAT?" 

He blinked, taken aback. Had he heard correctly? Though he couldn't see any sort of expression on the being, he felt that it was grinning now. Waiting. For an answer, he realized belatedly. "Oh," he hesitated, considering his two options. There was no telling what would come of this interaction, but the curiosity that drove him sometimes painted the stallion with a reckless streak. "How about a trick, then? And I'll show you one of my own." He grinned back, his face suddenly bearing uncanny resemblance to a bone-white skull.

[Oren]

For a boy with a hundred thousand questions, each overrunning the other before he can ask them, life is full of things that have yet to be discovered. As such, it shouldn’t come as a surprise to his parents that he often finds himself away from home, that he runs after something that interests him and barely escapes the trouble that follows.

That he sometimes doesn’t escape trouble, like when he met a guy in the meadow who knew the way home better than himself, or like now when he finds himself gathering with several others staring at some sort of door to someplace, wouldn’t be a surprise for anyone either. In fact Oren would not be surprised if he wasn’t the only one of his family here, if he had stopped to think about it. He doesn’t stop or think however: he sees the impressive creature emerging with his question and all he can think is:

”Trick! Trick!” He bounces up and down a little, hoping to see something exciting. Or perhaps the question wasn’t about Oren getting anything? He stops and tilts his head with that thought, then shrugs and gets excited again as others around him answer the question in their own ways. There’s bound to be some tricks AND treats to be seen! Even if they turn out not to be for him.