“What do you mean you lost it?!” PattiPearl’s eyes opened wide and her heart made an awful sinking sensation in her chest.  “Don’t you know how much it meant to me?” she added, almost in a whisper.

Leape the Dras shifted uncomfortably alongside her, making an irritable gesture with his arm, almost a twitch.  “Of course, and I’ve been trying to find it ever since.” 

Leape shifted from foot to foot, and looked away.  PattiPearl had been generous to lend him one of her precious gemstones….and like a cad he’d gone and lost it.  The fact he’d kept it from her was almost worst.  He’d been avoiding her for days, but it was her hurt expression that cut him more than anything.

“I’ve looked.  I know I had it for a day or two, maybe three at most.  I’ve kept an eye out for it, even pulled apart the sofa cushions….” he looked at the floor rather than Patti who seemed to be hyperventilating at this point, a paw on her heaving chest.  “Patti… I’m, I’m really sorry.  I thought maybe I’d find it before you’d know it’d gone missing, but - .”  he looked dejected, then grew irritable again.  “I’d no place to proper put it you know?”

Patti nodded silently, locked in a war of her own.  She’d been conflicted about lending her the stone in the first place.  It was hers, special gifted, but Leape had been going through a tough time of psychic attacks, and she’d wanted to do the best she could for her friend.  Now, though, now she knew she had to refind her stone, if she could.  And if she couldn’t?  Well, she’d already resigned herself to the idea when she’d lent the stone.  Her friendship was still more important.

The winter rain began peppering the glass panes, at first one or two, multiples, and finally a full torrent crescendoing against the glass..  Florence, the small, coffee colored Ineki rose and began pulling on her sweater, tugging the wool into a shape to allow her more movement.  She knew she was in for a longer night.

Florence grabbed her kerosene lantern and hoisted it ahead of her as she trotted up the iron spiral staircase.  Good thing she’d taken the time earlier in the day to place her stocks.  She cleared the last step and shielded her eyes as the fresnel lense swept past, cutting a blazing light through the top floor of the lighthouse to the low lying clouds and rain just outside the glass.  The wind shifted it’s howl, and she could feel the old lighthouse sway slightly in response. 

Florence set her lantern down and double checked the depth of the fuel.  It showed just below the full mark, perfect!  So the lamp was drawing already on the night’s stocks of fuel.  She closed the cap and turned around to peer through the rain spattered glass.  At first, it was only swirls of grey, and the rain slating sideways.  Then she saw it, a dark form at the horizon.  Her heart beat faster, the powerful light behind her turned, sliding the blinding beam steadily through the rain.  One turn, two, three…. Florence counted and then she could see the dark form lurch, turning abruptly to port, away from the shoreline.  Her heart lifted, they’d seen!  A light in the dark, to yet again let the mariners know land was here, to course correct safely away and back into the safety of darkness. 

Desiccated fungi barely dangling from the ceiling of the cave is a surefire way to keep you on your toes. They’re hanging on by but a thread; any wrong moves would make them fall. They’re grimy and disgusting, dripping an unknown fluid, just a smidge too thick to be water. You can only hope that it’s mud. Nothing more, nothing less.

Thump-thump.

The crackle of your torchlight is the only company you have. Its warmth is radiating and comforting. Maybe you could use the flame to burn away some of these plants, but the chain reaction it may cause could be catastrophic. You know not how flammable that gunk is, or if a fire would even be able to hold itself at all. It could be a futile effort… or it could blow you into smithereens. Neither is a desirable outcome. You’d rather take your chances with the mushrooms dirtying your gear. You just hope they aren’t toxic… or are at least minimally so.

Thump-thump.

Your heartbeat is growing even louder. It beats strongly in your ears, the thrum beginning to soothe your worried soul less than before. It’s eerie, in fact, just how much it sounds like it’s coming from outside of the cavity of your chest. It isn’t, though, is it? You round a corner, and with a squelch into a pile of mud and a sharp breath, realizing hits you like a truck.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

That… isn’t your heart. In fact, whatever it is, it’s further away… and coming closer. You swallow thick bile in your throat. It feels like your blood is arctic water, ice floes traveling to every crevice. It’s so close now. You feel like you’re about to lose the grip on your torch as your hands violently shake.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

It comes from around another formation of mossy rubble. You peer around it, your heart seizing with fear as you realize that there is, indeed, something there. You aren’t alone…

Thump-thump. Thump-thump-THUMP.

... and in front of you is, make no mistake… a rabbit?

No, that is no mere rabbit. That is a massive rabbit. It’s thumping its back legs angrily, perturbed by something nearby. Its brown fur blends in with its surroundings, its mouth coated in a tell-tale smear of red. It looks to you, its eyes thinning, and it thumps. Thump-thump-thump-THUMP.

You manage to keep hold of your torch, but with a shriek, you turn tail and run. That rabbit is ginormous, easily half your size, and it is enraged. You aren’t about to take any chances with it, with that thing’s bloodied mouth and its aggressive behavior. Terror surges through your veins as you bolt for the nearest exit, vowing never to return here again.

What you don’t see is the rabbit continuing to thump angrily, lamenting over a pile of raspberry stems and leaves with no fruit remaining. All that remains is on its scowling mouth, fussy and hungry, wishing for nothing more than another thousand raspberries to wolf down. It’s a shame the other creature left it behind. Maybe it would have had more raspberries to spare.

In the end… are you the one who has been tricked, or is it the woeful rabbit lacking in treats?

my new skeletons blanket :)

my dino light i got from halloween at holiday world :D

a pocket monster ^_^

Come my Cosmic kinfolk, we are going to explore our own bones, specifically your spinal column, on an internal journey today.  We are visiting our spines to touch on hidden technology from the Ancient civilization of Mu.  You’ll know it in it’s last iteration, the Fall of Atlantis which fell because it was in a battle after Atlantis attacked Mu/Lemuria.  ....screenfade after a guided comet wipes out Atlantis instead.

You’ll hear from modern scientist that we have ‘junk’ dna.  We don’t.  That they have uncovered ways to clip and snip and guide our fragile dna, that our future children won’t have such troubles via dna and gene manipulations.  ....now where have I heard that before?

Dear Child of the Cosmos, you are already Perfect.  Your DNA and mitochondria are perfect.  You are already whole and the answers lie in your bones.  Locked in the Dragon Bones of your very spine, not your brain, for your next awakening steps and upgrades.  Your brain, magnificient as it is, are only glands.

Known to the Ancient Egyptians, your Divine blueprint is held in your spine, your very bones.  You only lack the guidance, lost with the great fallen previous interations of Mu/Lemuria.  Are you drawn to learn the next step from your very own bones? ...a pale greyish blue arm reaches forward and caresses a crystal embedded in a console.  Let us begin…as a chart illuminating the human spinal column floats before you. 

Every time their blades clash, that odd sense of familiarity only gets stronger. Ezra doesn’t recognise his enemy’s sword, but something about the style nags at him. It’s the way the stranger parries his every strike as if he sees them coming, the force of his attacks and the speed of his movement; even his gait and posture fill Ezra with deja vu, as though he’s fought this man hundreds of times in the past.

But the stranger’s sword burns with demon fire, and Ezra can feel the corrupted energy roiling off him in waves. He doesn’t know this man… does he?

“Ezra!” Yan Ran’s shout has Ezra moving instinctively to duck, recognising the cue in his tone. To his shock, the stranger seems to recognise it as well. The stranger leaps back as the gunshot rings out — but although he’s just in time to dodge a lethal strike, the bullet still grazes his mask.

A loud crack resounds through the still night as his mask shatters. The man reaches up as if to salvage the shards of it, but he’s too late. Ezra can see his face now, and —

Ezra’s grip slackens, his sword almost falling to the ground as he stares, throat dry and heart pounding in his chest. No. It feels like him, but… this can’t be right. There must be some mistake. That can’t be…

“Luca?”

It’s Yoshiki’s shaky voice that breaks the silence that’s fallen over them, snapping Ezra back to reality. A laugh slips from Luca’s lips, and without the barrier of the mask distorting it, it’s unmistakable — Ezra would recognise his voice anywhere.

“Cal,” Luca calls, voice soft and gentle, as if he hadn’t been trying to kill Ezra seconds ago. “Game’s up.”

Out of the corner of Ezra’s eyes, a dark shadow darts forward, and his heart sinks even further as the second of their adversaries removes his mask. Callen’s expression is cold as he rakes his eyes over Ezra and the others; in his hands, the black metal of his crossbow gleams in reflection of the city lights.

Two of their mentors stand before them, wielding weapons that Ezra has only ever seen in the hands of demons, clothed in dark hoods and masks that seem to melt in with the darkness.

Luca raises his head, heedless of the blood dripping through his fingers, and his lips curve up in a smile as he meets Ezra’s gaze. “Hello again, Ezra.”

Cursed to turn into a…

Underneath the mask and cloak he’s just a skeleton, a collection of animated bones.

The schrodinger kitty.

It’s a snow Howard! A… Snoward? Hmm…

The girl is wandering around the deep caverns of Mycena, water drenched to her disheveled blonde hair. She feels like she had been wandering there, battling monsters. She is tired, and has scratches on her arms, from fighting them, and swimming through. She leaves wet footprints on the damp cave floor that shines pink, brown sugar trailing. She hears a squawk, and the fluttering of wings, which her wolf ears hear, her ears of white and grey lifting up. She sees a crow or raven in a tree. Her ears are very good at hearing. The raven looks familiar, yet had she met him before? She peers at the crow, rather far away, so she rummages through her red book bag, taking out black binoculars, and looks closer. The tree seems to have sweets hanging from the branches, and coloured leaves of yellow, green, red. As she walks further in, water rushing through gently through the stones in the stream outside, she sees an old friend. The friend has blue butterfly wings, and bright yellow fur with brown accentuating. It had been a while, since she spoke to her, and she waves at her with a silver grey paw. “Hi,” she says quietly to her. She was worried about how she would be seen to her friend, as she had felt distant from many for a long time.

The purple and black Mycenian is going trick or treating today. They have wings on their back, and draw a circular pattern on their cheeks, because of their favourite horror film. They place stitches around their mouth. Adorning a red poppy to their ear, they go out into the night. They hold a trick or treat bag. As they knock on the door, their tails sway in the night, as the wind drifts in as they await on the porch. The person who answers is alarmed to see Jigsaw, nearly closing the door, seeing a monster with glowing yellow eyes and too many tails.They get sweets put in their orange carved pumpkin mouth bag, and are happy it includes red licorice, which tastes a bit like cough medicine, yet they like the sharp tang to it.

A hand scuttled across the cave floor. It zipped between rocks, clawed through shadows, and clambered up stone walls. Somewhere, far behind, a scream rang out. Voices, hushed at first, quickly became shouts and cries of alarm. One voice, trembling and weak, cried out, “My arm! It’s run off again! I’ve lost it!”

The voices became clearer.
“Adam, you can’t expect us to go looking for the blasted thing every time it gets restless!” “Didn’t I tell you to tie it down with some twine?!” “I swear, I think it was sleeping in my bag with me! Ugh, I hate this!” “Get your curse under control, Adam!!” “Stop letting your pet wander around!” (At which point Adam angrily replied, “It’s not me pet, that’s my whole arm! My right hand! What do you expect me to do?”) Unbothered, the hand scurried on and away.

It was dark. That deep nothing pressed in with an uncomfortable weight. The silence the dark brought was suffocating. Chloe reached out, desperate, but there was nothing. Just the ground beneath her, where she had fallen. Sturdy stone dug its freezing fingers into her back as she lay winded. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t move. She was trapped.

Before the panic could take her fully, however, Chloe noticed something. A patch of dark that was more shadow than solid nothing. Where there were shadows, there was light. Sure enough, the dark was pushed back and a little flickering pinprick appeared. As it came closer, Chloe saw the slender profile of fingers - a thumb and pointer held the candle as the other three struggled to move across the cave floor. Chloe sat up slowly with a disbelieving laugh.

“Thank goodness Adam didn’t put a leach on it this time,” she muttered as the disembodied hand wobbled over to her. It came to a stop at her foot and bounced up and down until she took the weak candle from it. For once, she was glad for Adam’s annoying cursed arm.

Adam woke with a start, his heart pounding in his chest. It was oddly quiet. His companions were not…the quiet sort - even in sleep. Reggie snored (as Dwarves were known to do), Chloe and Vince both sleep talked, Lu was an orc, so just breathing made a lot of noise, and he had never once seen The Elf sleep. His eyes adjusted to the dim lighting of the dying campfire quickly.

Four figures sat straight up in their bed rolls while the fifth stood at the edge of camp. Adam gulped nervously, but did not dare move. Something had woken them all up.

Thump…Thump-thump… Thump-thump-thump-thump!

A low thrumming thumping sound started from further down the cave - from the tunnel the group had just traversed a few hours before. Adam gulped nervously and reached for his right arm. Of course it was gone. Of course.

“Ah.” A smooth, low voice called out. There was no emotion in the voice. Only the Elf spoke like that. Not a threat then. Probably.

Luckily, no one had to wait long. The thumping came closer and, out of the gloom, a helmet scuttled across the cave floor. It smashed into a boulder, then tumbled into a stalagmite before the rhythmic thumping of fingers knocking against metal as they moved resumed.

“I should have known,” Reggie groaned before he threw himself back into his nest of stone and cloth.

There is a girl with blue hair, and she wears a white robe. She feels like a monster. A teapot and bowl is on each side of her, on a wooden table in a restaurant. The table legs sit on a spongy grey blue-tack substance covering the ground. As she sits down on the chair, and peers closer to the teacup and bowl, she sees it is Asian geometric patterning. A light is shining through a lamp sconce. It is a warm atmosphere, to steady herself, from the terror and trauma of her life.

The soft sound of sobbing echoes off the high cavern walls.  It’s a miserable place, dim and carpeted in rotting leaves, so it seems good to be miserable in.

And misery is all Twotail feels as he sits, one paw on the back of the sobbing Iniki wrapped in a tattered cloak.  A basket of mushrooms lies scattered at her feet.

“I’ve lost them, I’ve LOST them,” the iniki keeps wailing in between sobs, and Twotail just continues to rub her back with his paw.

Any attempt to get her to elaborate has met with only more crying.  He’d give her something to wipe her streaming eyes and nose if he had anything, but alas, he does not.

He’s not sure why he’s still here, but when you hear someone crying it’s hard to just keep walking, right?  Well.  Apparently it’s hard for him.

Besides, as annoyed as he feels being left in the dark, he has some sympathy for this woman.  He, too, has lost things before.  And people.

“There, there,” he mutters, meaningless platitudes.  He’d offer to help her find whatever she’s lost, but he has a feeling it’s worse than just her house key.  That perhaps what she’s lost cannot be found.  Besides, he doesn’t want to.  He wants to leave.  He should leave.

Twotail shifts to get up, and that’s when the iniki finally looks up at him, and pins him with a watery blue stare.

“Thank you,” she says, dabbing at her eyes with her cloak.

Twotail just nods, shortly, not sure what else to say.  Wary in case she is about to start crying again, or perhaps talking—he’s not sure which would be harder to deal with.

So, it is with mingled relief and guilt that he watches her get up and start gathering her mushrooms.

His tails lash with indecision; should he help?

“I’ve kept you long enough, I’d guess,” the iniki says.  “Go on, then. You must have something else to do, today, than keep a foolish old badger company.”

Twotail tries not to let his relief show, at this.  He turns to leave the little chamber, glad to see the back of it.  But before he fully walks away, he turns back around.  “You’re welcome,” he says at last.  “I hope you find what you need.”  It’s an oddly philosophical thing for him to say, but he’s still not sure what she lost, so he hesitates to promise her—that, even indirectly.

He leaves quickly, before he can see her response.

Twotail finds that the memory of the encounter stays with him long after it’s over, and he wonders why.