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@the-bereaved-child
in my YOUNGER and more VULNERABLE years , my father gave me some advice :
❝ always try to see the best in people . ❞
as a consequence , i’m inclined to reserve ALL judgments —– but even i have a LIMIT .
indie nick carraway penned by zoe home | rules | about
•(( apologies for the inactivity. I'm feeling rather meh about this blog currently, as well as feeling somewhat as though I've bitten off more than I can chew. Too many threads at once honestly, whoops. I'm not abandoning it, replies just may be a little slow. Sorry for this! ))•
Starter for @Maxwellsdoor
Maxwell raised his eyes in surprise involuntarily. Seriously? She had said yes? He was expecting her to berate him, to scoff at him, to yell that of course she didn’t want to learn from him, the life-ruiner. But… she didn’t. So he got up. “Very…” he cleared his throat. “Very well. I will fetch the board, then.” He dug around in his personal chest for a moment, looking for the board he had made a while back. It looked surprisingly neat, considering he was no woodcrafter— but it wasn’t perfect. Still, the pieces were recognizable, and the board was sturdy enough. He crouched down, setting the board on the floor and opening it up to reveal the pieces packed tightly within. He looked up at Wendy, studying her for some kind of reaction.
Wendy stared down at the chess set, quite adamantly avoiding meeting eyes with her uncle. She was biting her bottom lip; apparently too hard, as she mumbled a small ‘ow’ and wiped away a drop of blood.
Her expression was of mild confusion, mild annoyance, and.. an indistinguishable mixture of many others. She was frowning, but it wasn’t a frown of despise. More a frown of the type a child would make when they’re dragged along to a party they didn’t want to be at. However, in this case, the child had dragged herself to the party.
It was a focused frown as well. She was looking at the pieces rather intently, but not for any specific reason. Or at least, no reason other than to not look at Maxwell. However this didn’t last all that long, as soon she found herself glancing briefly up at the man, though her eyes were quickly back on the board.
“Stop staring at me like that.” Her words showed no kindness, but not exactly real anger either. Perhaps there was almost a tint of embarrassment in there.
“Neither.” She replied, watching the yellow blossom be placed in the ornate vase. Abigail could’ve sworn she saw a black tendril creep out from the scarlet tablecloth, and backed away a few steps. “Once you die, you must be bound to the world forever.”
All ghosts had to bind to something, and that she knew for a fact. It didn’t matter if it was a person a place or a thing. If a spirit didn’t choose one, the forces that be would chose for them. That is why ghosts are usually tied to their grave sites. Abigail herself chose the flower that Wendy put on her grave during her funeral, and she had an unusual amount of power over the flower. She could make it levitate, glow, and even teleport it.
“Being trapped in an item rids you of…control over your life.” The blonde felt the flower in her hair as she spoke, “Your fate is in the hands of whoever holds the item, and there’s little to nothing you can do…” Abigail looked back at her sister, a soft smile on her face. “That’s why I chose for you to have my flower.”
Wendy returned the smile, almost looking as though she may tear up again.
“Your flower always puzzled me, back at home. I convinced myself I must of been hallucinating, every time I noticed it move without my help. I wanted to talk to mother and father about it, but I was certain they would deem it crazy. It would be hard to convince someone that there was a ghost living inside a flower.” She chuckled slightly to herself, a tint of sadness in her voice.
Her smile briefly faded, her mind drifting once again to the possibility of this being a hallucination. It didn’t have an explanation- of course, nothing here really did.
She supposed she just wasn’t used to anything good ever happening these days. The world turning in her favor was an uncommon thing.
She shook it off. Real or not, she might as well let herself enjoy it. A gentle smile once again appeared on her face.
“I’m just so glad you didn’t.. die, die. Of course you died, but you weren’t gone. Admittedly I didn’t believe that at first, but..”
Starter for @twigsandembers
With a spontaneous stroke of bad luck, her slipper landed on an unstable patch of snow. She yelped, falling down onto her backside. Her puffy vest moved smoothly across the icy surface, and the girl was sent sliding down the hill. As she quickly approached this new woman, at a much too dangerous speed, Wendy came to the realization that she was about to crash into her.
Freezing wind whizzing by her, she dug her foot into the ground. Clumps of snow launched into the air, with icy clusters landing on her face. The cold burned her cheeks, rosy from the cold.
Skidding to a stop at the woman’s feet, she now laid still in a mess of snow and uncovered leaves. Teeth clenched and eyes squeezed shut, the forest once again grew silent. At last the girl looked up at her newly discovered company.
What a graceful entrance, Wendy.
Starter for @the-daughter-of-spiders
The teenager eyed the nests suspiciously as she walked beside Aingealag. The amount was rather unnerving. Wendy remembered once she had run into a particularly terrifying encounter: three queens at once. A horrific coincidence, and she’d had no choice but to flee. This was years ago, but she remembered it clearly. She barely escaped alive.
She could just leave, couldn't she? I mean, why not? But if that were to anger the spider girl she stood by...
Hm.
“Even if your mother spares me.. is there not a chance of the other queens having different plans..?”
Starter for @nebu-sm1
“.. It’s fine.” She mumbled, shifting her legs. The child grew silent, staring at the man. Though all survivors she had met had their perks, this was a bit different. And somewhat terrifying.
Her eyes fell down to the fire where the man stared. She watched the flames for a moment, before her eyes drifted to scratches on her arms. Wendy wiped off some blood onto her stockings. At least the red stain blended in.
“Does this happen often?” She couldn’t help but ask. Who wouldn’t, really? A show like that would leave anyone questioning.
Update on things
•((I have returned from my mini hiatus for the convention! Replies will be all written up tomorrow))•
RPers, please reblog this if you’re okay with ICONLESS threads!
May 25th
Wilson and Willow have grown rather close. I am stuck playing games with the spider-child. (Note to self: do not suggest hide and seek again. Webber ALWAYS hides in the spider nests.)
Hey guys! Just letting ya know that I’ll be at animazement all weekend, and probably won’t be super active. Thanks!
Abigail looked at her feet, almost willing them to move. Has it been that long since she’d walked? “I think so.” She smiled, before wobbling a bit, “Just a bit rusty, I guess!” Given a second she managed to figure out the now foreign sensation of moving her limbs. Truly it was a surreal thing to experience.
Abigail walked over, her sisters hand in tow, and started grabbing the uprooted carrots. She forgot how things felt in her hands. Wendy’s palm was warm and soft, but the carrots were cold and dirty. It was like rediscovering the world: being born again. The blonde found herself sitting still for a moment, and taking in everything.
Birds chirped nearby. The rabbits scurried into their burrows upon her arrival. The trees swayed melodically in the breeze that swept their brightly colored leaves.
Never had she realized life was so beautiful…
“Good; it would be quite hard to teach you how to walk, as though you were a little baby.” She smiled at her twin. A genuine smile, a smile that felt like a smile.
Happiness still bubbled inside her as Wendy grabbed the remaining carrots. She stepped over to a nearby chest and gently tossed them inside. The pale child glanced back at Abigail, watching as she took in the world.
Wendy had come to terms awhile back that she would never see the world as beautiful as others claimed it to be. Yes, the flowers were pretty, and life was a ‘gift’, but considering what she’d gone through, Wendy thought the world was truly rather ugly. However, with Abby now here again, perhaps.. she could start to see it as a little closer to beautiful.
“What was it like..? Being dead- as in, dead-dead. Before this hell, and the flower you resided in.” She couldn’t help but be curious.
“It was…lonely.” Abigail answered, “I couldn’t get anyone’s attention, no matter how hard ai tried.” Oh, how she tried. All the times that the books mysteriously rearranged themselves, and the door knocker moving on its own. That was all her.
“The flower was just a place I recharged my energy, and it still is. It is a void within the petals.” It was a prison, but she didn’t want to sound too harsh. “You also cannot eat.” Abigail added on, “Well you can, but you can’t taste anything.”
“So you were here, in our world, then?” She asked, plucking a small flower from the ground and setting it in a vase. She smoothed out the small stands tablecloth, glancing at the shifting fabric towards the bottom. The frail yellow flower looked odd against the stiff, thorny rose, though the girl didn’t mind.
“No heaven mother spoke of, or hell father warned of?”
Their parents had always spoke of the afterlife; Wendy had never believed much of it. However, when she was able to summon her dead twins ghost, those views changed slightly. But ideas of angels and sinners remained silly to her. She had no reason to believe that death brought her sister to a better place. She was dead, and she was gone. Death was never good, all it did was consume those you loved.
None of that mattered much to her anymore, at least not at this current moment. Because Abigail was no longer gone; she was here, alive. Death had spat her back out, for whatever bizarre reason.
Starter for @Maxwellsdoor
Wendy’s mouth opened briefly, wanting some form of witty comeback. But she found she had lost her ability to speak, and so the girl closed it. She couldn’t come up with anything, despite her want to yell at him. To argue. She hated him- at least, she was pretty sure she did.
With a small humph, Wendy sat down across the fire from her uncle. She crossed her twiggy legs and sat her hands in her lap.
She stayed silent, cold eyes staring daggers at him. Unsure of what to do, or what she was really doing here. This is a waste of time. Why did you come here anyway?
At first she had thought it was for a form of revenge, rather if it was an insult or a stab to the gut. But now Wendy found herself questioning it. She picked in the dirt with her fingernails, the veil of speechlessness hanging heavy.
To talk to him.
Yes, that was it. That was why she really came.
Drawing in a breath, she located her voice again. Her words were spoken fast, with an odd sense of anxiousness to them. As though she needed to say them, but wasn’t sure why.
“I never learned chess.”
Maxwell’s calm, collected expression turned into one of confusion. Just moments ago, Wendy was blaming him for all of her problems. Now… now this? Now she was, perhaps, suggesting that he teach her chess?! “I can teach you, if you are interested,” Maxwell muttered almost cautiously. “It really isn’t that difficult to learn.” He knew that was a lie; though the basic rules of chess were easy to learn, there was so much more strategy involved— you had to know how to win. Knowing that a pawn moves one space forward or that a bishop moves diagonally wouldn’t necessarily score you a victory. “I… made a chess set a while back, but no one’s wanted to play with me.”
Well, he had asked for a change of topic, she had given one... For some reason.
In truth, Wendy was just as confused as him. Why did she say that? She didn’t want to learn chess- did she? Well, certainly not from him- or, perhaps, maybe..
The amount of conflicting thoughts in her head was enough to start a war. She tapped her index fingers together quietly, glancing off to the side. Blank eyes avoiding contact with the man’s.
“I suppose, if you want to, you can teach me.” She grumbled, feigning indifference. The girl folded her arms, lips in a childish frown. “I don’t care.” That was.. a lie. However, she was refusing to believe it was a lie. She didn’t want to care, but she might, just a little.
Starter for @twigsandembers
The strong wind whistled loudly. Frost covered the leaves of berry bushes, and bees stayed huddled in their hives.
Winter was here.
The pale child sighed, watching the tiny cloud of condensation dissipate into nothingness. She stepped across a snowy, bare field. The crisp white crunched under her slippers, and at that moment, all you could hear was her footsteps and the freezing breeze.
Humming slightly, a cheerful tune in an oh so not cheery place, she stepped up to one of the few remaining trees in this dead forest. Swinging her ax side to side, she kicked at the bottom of it’s trunk. Snow fell from branches and landed on her hay-like hair. She shook it off.
Raising her sharp tool, she swung at it. The solid sound rung out, echoing across the nearly empty valley. Disturbing a few icicle-blue birds.
Thunk.
Her arm moved swiftly, with a strength that any normal girl her age would not have.
Thunk.
Thunk.
Thunk.
Crash.
The tree fell to the ground, all snow left on it’s barren limbs joining the mass already blanketing the world. The girl silently got to breaking it’s wood up into smaller logs. She shivered slightly, staring at the endless snow. Frail little fingers picked up the large birch logs, struggling somewhat to carry them all at once. Her camp was a walks away; and she truly didn’t want to have to make multiple trips. A small groan of annoyance escaped her lips as she nudged the one branch she couldn’t gather.
Willow trudges through the snow, lighter held tightly in her hand, numb from the cold. She had a few traps she’d been meaning to check, and had finally got around to making the journey to the nearby rabbit burrows. She didn’t enjoy killing them, but had learned to do it out of necessity. She enjoyed cleaning them even less, gross bits that she had to handle with her bare hands to get access to the meat and fur and whatever else she may need. It had been a process of trial and error, but she’d gotten it eventually. A noise catches her attention, removes her earmuffs, she sound becoming a bit clearer. It is a familiar sound, but an unknown source. Willow turns off the path, whatever this was was WAY more interesting than stupid rabbits.
The small girl grumbled some pointless insults at the log. Shifting the splintery wood in her hands, she kicked at it. Rather hard, for that matter. It was sent down the hill, gathering small clumps of snow and then losing them. She sighed, stepping over to the side of the hill to watch it tumble down.
And then, she squinted, for she saw someone through the flurries of snow.
Yes, Wendy certainly saw someone, there near the bottom of the hill. A woman? She was unsure. Abandoning her cluster of logs, she began stepping down the steep hill. Stumbling a bit on a loose piece of ice here and there, stopping to readjust her vest. She wasn’t moving the fastest, and it was a long way down.
But she needed to know who was there in the valley.
Starter for @the-daughter-of-spiders
“I… er.. yes..” She responded. Thousands of questions were currently passing through her mind. Should she be worried about the fact that she almost killed this girl’s spiders? Was this a complicated trap, weaved out like a spiders web? How powerful was she? Did she need those webs that bad?
Wendy shrugged the inquiries off. Truly, she had experienced many bizarre experiences with her time on the island. She should be handling this better, she’d been here for years. Spider-princess wasn’t a big deal. Even if it was a little startling.
The blonde straightened her posture slightly, fixed her expression.
“Yes, thank you.”
She pulls a large bit of webbing off her thorax and holds it out to Wendy. “Here you are.” She smiles trying to put Wendy at ease but flashing her fangs in the process. “Do you require anymore assistance of us? We would be more than happy to help.” She looks back at her nests. “Hmm though perhaps mother would like to speak with you.”
She hesitantly took the webbing.
Mother..?
That would be the spider queen, at least as far as Wendy knew. And the spider queen was not exactly someone she felt particularly fond of interacting with right now. Or ever.
I mean, if all of your past experiences with someone was them trying to kill you, you probably wouldn’t be all that happy to see them. The young woman was not in the mood for a near death experience. However, she also wasn’t wanting to anger this princess girl, especially not after that showcase of sharp fangs.
After the amount of time she’d spent on the island, she wasn’t used to being scared of things. Everything intended to terrify her had become dull, routine. The world was a hell, but it was a hell she knew like the back of her hand. Except this was new. And well, new, could be rather scary.
“Er, why would your mother care to speak to me?” She asked, nervously fiddling with a strand of webbing. This was an awkward situation, and rather nerve-racking.
Starter for @nebu-sm1
Well, this was embarrassing, to say the least.
Wendy usually made her way in this world. Of course it was awful, but she survived at least. However, we all have our strokes of bad luck, and this was hers. Very bad luck.
“I’ll be fine..” She mumbled, despite the fact that currently, she was being cradled in a strangers arms, being too weak to walk. Ah, pure ignorance.
In the man’s arms, she was now able to get a look at him. The small girl was sure she’d never seen him before. He was a rather peculiar looking man, she knew she wouldn’t of forgotten him. She had always been good with faces. Him showing up was simply good luck- but of course, the bad luck had to come first.
The mess of thoughts started getting jumbled up a bit inside her head. Shadows diving through your body doesn’t exactly help one’s mind. She closed her eyes, quieting the noise in her brain.
By just looking back at her reminded Abrahams of something… Couldn’t get his head clear though when the shadows darkens and shrouds his memories. His nightmare beard really seemed alive. For someone like him, he should be serving the Queen but… that’s for another time once he’s in bones and ashes.
A part of the beard oozed out and flopped. Dropping a pinch of nightmare fuel on the ground. He could feel his head ache as it escaped his face, cringing in the slightest of pain. That’s never a good sign.
Abrahams carried the child with carefulness and caution through the darkness to his camp. The lantern might be your savior but it can be your murderer. Light attracts curious minds… Sometimes in constant hunger of wild animals. Fortunately, they arrived back at Abrahams’ camp without any obstacles blocking them. The camp’s campfire was still burning strong.
The bald man lies the child down on the wooden log and went to the campfire. He looked at the fire and his eyes… suddenly widened.
He began screaming and holding his head in from the pain of his mind as the shadows in his facial region. Visible black veins started to emerge from his face towards the back of his bald head. Changes statically effected in his eyes; changing the sclera into pitch black and his pupils completely white like Charlie’s.
He relentlessly fought it back… attempting to pull himself back together before he falls into the shadow’s hands again for the second time. Never again - grabbing a burning stick from the campfire and rubbed the flame on his nightmarish beard. The man painfully screamed and his beard reduced to ashes on the floor. He fell down on the ground… tired from the fight that is a part of him, gasping for air and breathe deeply.
Wendy had fallen off the log and scrambled back, startled by the mans sudden outburst. That was.. unexpected. A concerned and confused expression lay plastered on her face, even after the stranger had grown quiet. What on earth..?
She concluded that she had, indeed, encountered a very peculiar man.
Brushing down her skirt, and climbing back onto the log, she steadied herself. The girl merely stared at him for a few moments, attempting to take in what had just occurred. It seemed to her as though he had nearly turned into a terrible beast; much like what she watched pigs do on full moons. Except a bit less furry. And.. he had stopped it.
A peculiar and troubled man.
At last she spoke, her voice still somewhat quiet, and unsure if speaking was a good idea. Wendy had no idea if this man was at all stable.
“Are you alright..?”
by Jaccob McKay
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