"There is still something of himself - something of the Wolfbane who would always love her - that rallies against the slime. It says, 'lie in the bed you’ve made'. So he gathers the covers and tucks himself in." -- Wolfbane, written by Calcifer
OOC: The post said it closes June 21, but not included with time. I'm not sure if it means the 21st is included or not, so I'm going ahead and post my second entry, but if it means it closed by the beginning of today I understand it completely if it's left out .
There's none so blind as those who will not listen.
Life hadn’t been kind to him, or had he himself to blame?
When the magic had disappeared from the lands, it had taken his sight too. Sight a djinn had given him, upon him wishing for it. Never had he thought that his thoughtless mumble would have such impact on his life. Brynmor had grown accustomed to seeing, till the point he now struggled through life.
Ever since he had lost Roan at the base of the Mountain, he hadn’t seen a familiar face. Oh the irony in that. Of course he couldn’t see a familiar face while he lacked sight, but neither had Brynmor met someone familiar. He had thinned, both due to slight famine as the loss of muscles, which was got masked by his already lengthening winter coat. Once a Tundra resident, always a Tundra resident.
He missed the Tundra dearly. From the endless snow to the brotherhood. Ever since Hurricane had brought him home – because the Tundra still was that – he hadn’t felt lonely anymore. And now, that was exactly what he was. Perhaps this party would fix all that, but at the same time Brynmor didn’t want to get his hopes up too high.
His movements are insecure, front hooves feeling the ground first before he dares to put some weight on his leg. He’s slow. Slower than he was before. Even in the Chamber he didn’t had any trouble navigating around. Always careful and measuring, but never insecure or hesitant. Brynmor’s ears flick around nervously, there simply were too many horses around. Sounds and smells hit him from all sides, how was he ever going to find the happy birthday person?
Or somebody he knew for that matter. Brynmor had never realised how very alone one could feel in such a big crowd. It scares him, terribly. It had taken much effort to get himself here – though the sounds and smells lead him towards the location like the yellow stone brick road. And now, was it all for nothing?
No, not for nothing. He was here to celebrate. His tongue slips past his lips, wetting them before clearing his throat. ”Happy birthday Beqanna!” His voice is hoarse and somewhat raw, but genuine. His lips even curl up a little, but his eyes are not able to meet the gaze of Beqanna. Hopefully his voice had carried out the message warm and clear, and hopefully she would be able to see through his wrecked appearance.
Whiskey bottle, brand new car, Oak Tree, you're in my way...
The rainbow-paint covered mare groaned as she stretched her legs up towards the sky. She had a fucking headache. This is why we don't mix light and dark liquor, Jah-Lilah. She grunts and rolls onto her belly, waiting a minute before she stands. Nope, that didn't help, the world is still spinning. She stumbles to where she keeps her mushroom tea, and fixes a cup, finishing it quickly. It sends her back into the party...
She arrives to the fairies greeting everyone at the door, handing out party favors and laughing uncontrollably. Jah-Lilah snags hers, peering inside excitedly. Excellent. The mare pops the Dolphin quickly and finds the punch bowl. She looks around, then adds an especially strong concoction of magic mushrooms to the bowl. She makes herself a drink and tastes it. Ahhhhh. There we go. How to party? Yup, we know how to party.
She finds the rolling kids, in the corner slathering each other with body paint and rubbing all over each other. Jah-Lilah wants in. She squeezes herself between a beautiful blonde female and a big onyx stud, arching her back and feeling the music in her body. The next thing she knows, she's a florescent pony like so many other residents of Beqanna. She feeds a piece of cake sloppily to the big boy next to her, smearing it all over him, singing along with the music the DJ has bumping from the speakers. The obsidian guy loves it. Jah-Lilah takes a sip from her drink and is feeeeeeeeeling it. She decides to find the birthday girl ASAP, before she passes out somewhere and they don't get to speak.
From across the room, Jah-Lilah spots her. She is breathtaking on her sweet sixteen. Her hair is flawless and someone's took the time to bedazzle her all over. Damn Beqanna, you doing it right girl. Jah-Lilah hopes BQ even remembers who she is and would be nervous if she wasn't so tore up from the floor up. She approaches her and throws her arms around her, kissing her square on the mouth and shouting with a grin, "Happy birthday Beqanna!!!!! Love you gurrrrrllll!!!!" Jah feels a warm comradery like she's never felt before, then a wave of love from her head to her toes. The next thing she knows, the room fades away.
...It's so much smoke, and so much coke, look what's going on around you.
Castile hears the singing and sees as a cluster of faces congregate around a grand cake. He doesn’t join them, not yet. Oftentimes he prefers to savor his solitude. He enjoys lingering in the barren cave his father left behind or an empty ridge in Hyaline from where he can watch the world open up. Here, among these strangers, he feels alone and quite lost.
”Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday…” he isn’t sure, exactly, whose birthday this is for who this celebration is for. His mismatched eyes sweep across them feverishly.
His body begins to shift and he is unable to control it – stop it. A breath is drawn in and suddenly his body is truly coming to life and growing. ”Oh, look! We have a dragon in the house!” He doesn’t understand his shifting or what he truly is but he is backing up into a corner as their curious eyes glue onto him. ”Ignore me. I’m not here…” ”But you’re huge! We can’t ignore that! ”I’ll leave…” ”DRAGON RIDES!”
They are faeries and yet the thrill still poisons their veins as they pounce onto him. He tries to not show his fear, but it’s so difficult as they clamber along his neck and back, kicking him and shouting. ”Best Birthday ever!!” Relentless things they are, and always hungry for their own wants and desires.
But they are the faeries. Without them, there would be no Beqanna.
He spins and fumbles and twirls all while they shout for more. ”Spice it up! It’s our birthday!” Their magic shoots out in front of him – another dragon, shards of ice, a hippo – and the faeries look at the one who conjured the hippopotamus. ”What the hell?” A smack on the backside of the head is enough as they struggle to hold one while Castile is forced to dive around the obstacles until his energy depletes and he is forced to land. ”More!” They shout, but he growls at them savagely. With jest and offense taken, they make a cone birthday hat appear on his head, clown puffs appearing along his obsidian body, white paint on his face. Confetti flies through the air, glitter powder claws their lungs. It churns in his throat and mingles with the smoke that curls in his gut until a monstrous sneeze throws him backward into the cake. It crushes beneath his immense weight, icing crawling up the edges of his scales and the candles licking his skin briefly before sputtering out. ”Giant lizard ruined it all!” They yell, stabbing their fingers in his direction. ”Clown lizard!” But they cannot be mad, not today. Laughter pours from their mouths as they jump and smear cake along his face while he lies helplessly on his back, a victim to the rambunctious whims of the faeries on their birthday.
Um. Yeah. No clue... I'm tired and this is rushed and unedited lmfao
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