Myrobalan Shivana (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
faithlikeaseed) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
middaeg2020-10-31 01:33 pm
faithlikeaseed) wrote in middaeg2020-10-31 01:33 pm
Entry tags:
Out of the mid-wood's twilight into the meadow's dawn | OTA
Who: fauns fauns FAUNS (and their enablers) (and anyone else)
When: Octeuril 31st
Where: The Haven
What: Somebody set up a trap specifically designed for Fauns. Or tried, anyway.
Warnings: F for Faunery; warnings per thread as needed!
It's a lovely day in Aefenglom and you are ahorrible beautiful Faun.
Somewhere between the evening of the 30th and the midnight advent of the 31st, a disused corner of the Haven has turned into a patch of cultivated wilderness. Somewhere a little after midnight on the 31st, and the beginning of the full moons, several Fauns (and one or two others, Monsters and Witches alike) received an enthusiastic if slightly garbled written invitation to come see what awaits.
Gourd vines of all descriptions drape an abandoned cottage, its floating terraces, and half of a nearby house. Flowers in a riot of colors decorate them, some glowing softly and others exuding a fragrant perfume. The fruits hanging pendant or nestled on the ground defy description and beg to be tasted: There are tiny pumpkins no larger than grapes, thin-skinned and sweet, while massive savory marrows lurk in the underbrush to trip the unwary. A rare fist-sized specimen glimmers with enchantment and grants a rush of energy when eaten--along with fleeting, unpredictable changes (horns, fur, hooves) that make one a little more faunish for an hour or two.
Cheap furniture, clotheslines, and hanging sheets have been used to roughly shape the vines into an impromptu maze. The design's irregular, wandering, like whoever planned the corridors couldn't see what he was doing. It wanders in and out of the cottage, pouching into dead-ends and cozy little clearings that might fit two comfortably and three if they're familiar. Some of them have benches in them; others, piles of pillows; and still others are carpeted in thick and flowering moss. Heavy quilts in a riot of colors and patterns can be found neatly folded in the buildings, waiting for chilled revelers to find them. There are also covered braziers for the truly cold, though they seem powered by magic and not by flame.
Food and drink are lavishly if haphazardly provided, spread out through the bowers like a treasure hunt. Casks of mead with cups attendant, bowls of honey candy and glazed nuts, fruit both fresh and dried, and a variety of different sorts of cheese provide an ample repast (so long as one's not hungry for blood or meat). Entertainment's on the guests to provide, with simple musical instruments (mostly pipes, an occasional lap-harp) gracing many of the grottos; others have toys and games, of varieties both innocent...and not...strewn about them.
There are also oddities here and there in the maze, like the bower where someone took painstaking care to tie a half-hundred feathers to the low vine ceiling. Another nook teams with stingless bees of all varieties during the day. What else might await someone who's looking?
When: Octeuril 31st
Where: The Haven
What: Somebody set up a trap specifically designed for Fauns. Or tried, anyway.
Warnings: F for Faunery; warnings per thread as needed!
It's a lovely day in Aefenglom and you are a
Somewhere between the evening of the 30th and the midnight advent of the 31st, a disused corner of the Haven has turned into a patch of cultivated wilderness. Somewhere a little after midnight on the 31st, and the beginning of the full moons, several Fauns (and one or two others, Monsters and Witches alike) received an enthusiastic if slightly garbled written invitation to come see what awaits.
Gourd vines of all descriptions drape an abandoned cottage, its floating terraces, and half of a nearby house. Flowers in a riot of colors decorate them, some glowing softly and others exuding a fragrant perfume. The fruits hanging pendant or nestled on the ground defy description and beg to be tasted: There are tiny pumpkins no larger than grapes, thin-skinned and sweet, while massive savory marrows lurk in the underbrush to trip the unwary. A rare fist-sized specimen glimmers with enchantment and grants a rush of energy when eaten--along with fleeting, unpredictable changes (horns, fur, hooves) that make one a little more faunish for an hour or two.
Cheap furniture, clotheslines, and hanging sheets have been used to roughly shape the vines into an impromptu maze. The design's irregular, wandering, like whoever planned the corridors couldn't see what he was doing. It wanders in and out of the cottage, pouching into dead-ends and cozy little clearings that might fit two comfortably and three if they're familiar. Some of them have benches in them; others, piles of pillows; and still others are carpeted in thick and flowering moss. Heavy quilts in a riot of colors and patterns can be found neatly folded in the buildings, waiting for chilled revelers to find them. There are also covered braziers for the truly cold, though they seem powered by magic and not by flame.
Food and drink are lavishly if haphazardly provided, spread out through the bowers like a treasure hunt. Casks of mead with cups attendant, bowls of honey candy and glazed nuts, fruit both fresh and dried, and a variety of different sorts of cheese provide an ample repast (so long as one's not hungry for blood or meat). Entertainment's on the guests to provide, with simple musical instruments (mostly pipes, an occasional lap-harp) gracing many of the grottos; others have toys and games, of varieties both innocent...and not...strewn about them.
There are also oddities here and there in the maze, like the bower where someone took painstaking care to tie a half-hundred feathers to the low vine ceiling. Another nook teams with stingless bees of all varieties during the day. What else might await someone who's looking?
no subject
[ Iramaat admits as she begins to pluck out another tune. Something gentle and soft, almost lulling. ]
They're a bit out of fashion these days. Most people like violins or lutes or something like that.
[ She shrugs, watching the fae with a distinct sense of curiosity. ]
Would you like something more stirring?
no subject
Was this instrument harder to play than others? Was that why it was rarer? Was that why the Faun had taught herself?
But she didn't, she would listen politely. Eyes creasing in a closed-eye smile. Even if that seemed peaceful, there was still the odd fidget. Just little things, like her antenna, wings, something stirring under her skin that urge to move.
A feeling that dampens a little as the fae jerks at the question. Tilting her head. Large eyes, blinking.]
More stirring? [Iramaat, you may have caught a dumb fae.]
no subject
[ She smiles broadly at the fae. ]
Unless you enjoy listening to me slow, sad songs.
[ The fae is rather curious. Nothing like the fae Iramaat was at home and in this case she seemed to have a surfeit of energy. Well, maybe she can help with that. Somehow. ]
no subject
I like dancing... [Abrubt and slightly higher-pitched as the fae rushed to get her words out. Then the fae remained silent again, brain catching up to think.
Nah... Nothing, no thoughts. Just her wings buzzing into action, scattering that fine dust into the air and getting the fae on her feet. One of said feet tapping the growing.]
no subject
[ Her fingers start to pluck out a tune. Something faster. More of a jig, suitable for moving to. Quick and sharp and pleasant to the ear. ]
I was hoping you'd say that. It means someone will appreciate all of this.
cw: I can't write dancing
Why wouldn't people appreciate it? [Not that she's staying still to hear an answer, her wings letting out another dull buzz dampened by an illusion so she could hear the music as she darted... Mikasa... That's not dancing, that's just jumping to another spot. Pausing for a moment before taking another small hop, into Iramaat's space. Arms held out at her sides.
Tilting her head.]
Why wouldn't someone appreciate it?
no subject
Well, if there's no one here to listen, then it will go unappreciated! Except by me, of course, but I'm the one playing, so it's a little different.
no subject
But that was the human arms. The longer barb covered mantis arms were a bit more active. After lightly wafting for a moment, they were hooking into the surrounding vines to pull the fae up as she climbed.
She's going to hang up here and swing around, on the high ground. What could go wrong? Other than the attempt at humming along a few seconds behind.]
no subject
No words for this song, but she also joins in the humming to try and provide a counter-point. ]
You look like you're enjoying yourself.
no subject
It was nice, being up in the air. Wing running through her hair, even if wings were different to using her gear. Something freeing about being up and off the ground. To the point she almost forgets, drifting off and away. Her head in the clouds.
The words only just register as the fae landed on a branch, bouncing and going around the trunk to double back to the faun. Wings sprinkling that fae dust everywhere. Her breath catching as she tried to explain...but was there really any explaining it.]
Yeah. It's... Nice... Being near the sky. [A tiny shrug as she peered, trying to convey what she meant when she didn't understand herself. Something about the sky, the moon and the stars. Something that felt important.]
no subject
I can't say I know the feeling, alas. I am rather grounded.
[ She grins and shrugs. ]
No wings. But the moon... the stars... those I do appreciate from my lowly position.
no subject
But it's enough to make those big black eyes crease, lips curling into a smile. It was small, nowhere near the faun's grin. But she was trying, her ears tilting down.]
I think... It might be like fauns and the dirt.
[The plant people.]
no subject
[ Iramaat laughs. ]
You make it sound like we're mucking about in it, but... yes. It is like that in a way. We seem to have an affinity for growing things and fertile earth... and it calls to us. It makes us want to be closer to it. So... yes, very similar. Even if I wish you'd chosen more flattering words.
[ She pats the spot next to her. ]
Do you want to join me for a little while longer? I think we have some wine still... somewhere.
no subject
But really, it was kind of annoying trying to sell things she'd grown only to be told Faun and Witches could do it better. Her farmer cred...
She almost sighed from it, before turning her attention to the faun again. Frowning at the spot on the ground that was being patted, then the faun. Antenna giving a flick. Thinking 'bout it.
Then there's a buzz as she flutters over and sitting again. Pulling her legs up to hug them, rest her chin on her knees. Silently agreeing to hang out more.]