There was a silence at the treehouse in the gnarled Marshmallow Swamp; one that had been there every day in spurts of an hour or two, but only now did it truly feel empty, devoid of presence. Deep, sunken holes, once footprints, had long been filled with shed sweets from the trees above, their maker having not treaded there in a while. The surrounding forest had had its time to grow back, branches expanding once more and letting off a peppermint or grape syrup scent as the sap oozed out to mend their wounds.
The hills were settled, no uprooting of gumdrop boulders or scattering of sprinkle fields, nor the flattening of lollipop trees or crushing of cacti from colossal passers-by and whisk-mills stood tall, spinning uninterrupted in the wind as they generated power. The factory worked on, oblivious to the world around it that simply let it be, sickly syrups dripping into the water below it after a long day of kart-making and colorful plumes of smoke from its stacks. There were no alarms, and no need to be.
The tracks were being torn up, not by mighty beasts of rage, but by drifting wheels and projectiles missing their targets, the sounds of revving engines spouting puffs of confetti in distress as one was finally struck by a flying scoop of ice cream. ‘A la mode!’ a voice echoes over the track excitedly as the driver’s car slid to a stop at the side of the road. The voice belongs to a small fellow back at the starting line, one of thousands of candy-coated faces who lived to watch the show go on.
The ice cream peaks, cold, imposing, and colorful as they were, sat in total silence. Rock candy shrubs managed to eke out a living in the gently falling powdered sugar, their flavors a mystery in their lack of color that blended right in with the rest of the vanilla snow. As a gentle breeze blew, a marshmallow rabbit curiously hopped toward the road, looking for refuge; it turned and fled as the faint roar of little engines drew closer, soon passing by the very place it once stood and disappearing into a dark cave, child-like cackles of delight as fantasies of the first place trophy played in the driver’s head. The rabbit was the only wandering creature there; for the longest time, it’s all that ever had.
On the far western edge of the island of sweets and confections, past the Peppermint pines, over the gumdrop hills, far away from the tracks and distinct from the ice cream peaks, stood a solid bridge of every hue visible to the naked eye. At its base stood a sign, whose message read to those heading toward it read as, “Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow… COME BACK SOON!”, so pleasant yet disappointed to see its reader go. The path leading up to it was steep, as though the very incline itself was discouraging one from leaving such a sweet and colorful world, the colorful bridge itself a reminder of what they’d be leaving behind. At the top, it leveled out and disappeared into a mountain made of waffle cone, whose peak looked dipped in chocolate and covered in sprinkles the size of a school bus.
At the cave mouth stood a man –nay, a cy-bug reminiscent of a man who once found his home in the land beyond the cave’s gate— looking out to the world. He’d called this game home for nearly two and a half years, though the cy-bug was anything but native to it. After fighting to stay alive in such a long time span, the cybrid found himself so… There wasn’t a word that came to his mind other than ‘tired’. He wished he could stay, continue to call it home, deceive himself into a false purpose for others’ sake, but he wasn’t sure he could anymore. This world –Sugar Rush- simply wasn’t a place he could stay and live with himself. Perhaps he couldn’t even do that. Though he’d not done much with his life in those two years, he had considered himself done. His time here was at an end.
Cy-bug Ralph didn’t know where he was headed once he’d forced himself through the gate’s barrier. Maybe into the jaws of death, maybe into a whole new life for himself, perhaps the exact same life somewhere else- he couldn’t know. Goodbyes were far too painful, and he hadn’t the will to face the few he’d known for so long and do so.
The theme of the game, so upbeat and cheery, echoed through the air from large speakers near a lake by the palace, putting a beat to the energy of the game. The only real change to the scene was that there was one less person to hear it.
((Sorry folks, but lately I just... I haven’t been feeling the love for this blog anymore. Not in a while. Sure, the roleplays were fun, and events were pretty exciting, but even with the plans I have for Ralph, things have been really... Really slow and repetitive for a while now. Cyralph doesn’t do anything beyond wander around and hold casual conversation, he never feels any emotion other than boredom or mild happiness or irritation, or even leaves Sugar Rush- and when he does, he always simply rushes back in for one reason or another.
That isn’t to say that I don’t enjoy roleplaying, or that the RPers that I’m interacting with are bad or anything, not at all! It’s just that... well, wreckingduty, ask-fairy-morgan, tempus-felis, alex-the-nonsensologist, and askjasperbattjr -five people- are the only ones who ever say anything anymore. I honestly don’t have any plans after the wedding/honeymoon for Cyralph, and I can’t just keep bringing up more cy-bug invasions or throw him right into other people’s stories for excitement factor.
I think... Well, if not a hiatus, I think I should probably call it quits with Ralph. The blog won’t be deleted, so all the roleplays are there to read over again. I just don’t really feel the muse anymore, and replies are more like obligations than they are fun, and I don’t want my interactions with other characters to be forced for courtesy purposes. I’m sorry if I’ve disappointed any watchers, and I mean no offense to the few who do roleplay with me, but I think it’s time I moved on.))
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