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Description

I had so much issues with this and struggled and I probably should have given up and started a new one for this chapter but no energyyy sorries.

I gave up halfway through, but I guess it's good enough.

warning: mentions of blood (nothing exreme/graphic)

also pine needle acupuncture to calm your nerves. (not really XD)

_____________________________

Tarό liked the snow. It was pretty, it shone in the sunlight and blinded him. It crunched in that way that was familiar and brought with it the smell of chestnuts and fire. Tarό was also terrified of the snow. It made him taste copper, it burned his skin and froze his limbs with fantom pain. He could move just fine now, but the tingles of past things still crept all over him. Red stands out brilliantly against white, fat globs of blood shimmering, snowflakes swirling in them. Tarό blinks and the blood is gone, along with any thoughts of it. Pain fades to the back of his mind as he hears it again, this time sung in a deeper voice, that same pleading song. It pulses in his head and he whines. He doesn't even approach it. He's tired. He wants to go home. He doesn't understand why he's here, and he's too weak here to even think of doing anything about the broken thing. He considers briefly the possibility that he is going insane, that he's finally lost it. He whines again, thoughts swilring in his mind. Images and smells and the Thing's voice, insistent and deep and piercing.

Anger rises in him and he snaps his head around to glare at the soft blue light. "Shut up" he says, but it's like he hasn't spoken. He turns his back to it again and lets his legs buckle undearneath him, unceremoniously plopping in the snow, getting half burried in it. Something pricks him from all around and he notices it's hundreds of pine needles. They get tangled in his fur. He closes his eyes at the sensation. It distracts him from the pleading voice. It distracts him from everything. These needles are dead. They lie peacefully, their job done. The trees around were once their bodies, now standing blackened and weak. Hollow. Pine needles fall all around him with each gust of air. Nothing mourns. The trees are silent, the leaves are silent. The dead grass too. He recalls the jungle, the blackened, dead patch of land around another broken thing.

He thinks about it for a very long time. Then he gets up, shakes snow and pine needles off him and turns to the shrine. "If I were granted rest" he tells it, "I wouldn't want some good-for-nothing to come ruining it for me. This place is at peace now. I have a feeling that it's your....condition, that allows it." He looks around. "These trees were old. It's cold here. They survived to grow and now it's only right they don't have to survive anymore. I'm not knowledgable enough to fix you, and I won't try. Perhaps someone else will, but I hope not." He wished for the needles to remain at peace, just as they were, burried in fluffy snow, sleeping. He liked it when new grass sprouted out of the soil and buds burst into flowers, usually. But this, here, was right. Proper. As it should be. Perhaps the thing too, needed to die. But who was he to decide such things? He aproached it and nudged it with a foot, as if to pet it. "You look like ice. I hope, when warm days come to this place, you will melt with the snow and go back into the land from which you came from, and know peace too" The thing cried in its deep voice and suddenly he recoiled, as if burned. The voice he heard was his own. And before anger and confusion could overtake him, the wind blew and countless pne needles fell on him, pricking his skin. And then he was suddenly calm. "Nice trick" he said to the thing, turned around, and left. He walked by the dead leaves and he could sense them settling back into their sleep, content, their tiny sighs so numerous that the cries of the thing were drowned out, and Tarό was soon far enough that his thoughts were his own once again.

_____________________________

For chapter two of shattered peaks, Taro decides to not to fix or harm the shrine token.

Esk featured is

_____________________________

AP BREAKDOWN:

for painting:
Base Score: 10 AP (Shaded Illustration)
+5 AP (Full Body)
+20 AP (Full/Scenic Background)
+5 AP (Personal Work Bonus)
+5 AP (Event Biome Bonus)

+15 AP (Quest Prompt Bonus)
Total AP per submission: 50

for writting:
Base Score: 13 AP (Writing: 669 words)

TOTAL AP: 63

GP BREAKDOWN:

For painting:
Base Score: 4 GP (Shaded Illustration)
+2 GP (Full Body)
+6 GP (Full/Scenic Background)
+2 GP (Event Biome Bonus)
+8GP (Quest prompt Bonus)
Total GP per submission: 22

for writting:

Base Score: 6 GP (Writing: 669 words)

TOTAL GP: 28

_____________________________

ThoseWhoWentMissing

Description

I had so much issues with this and struggled and I probably should have given up and started a new one for this chapter but no energyyy sorries.

I gave up halfway through, but I guess it's good enough.

warning: mentions of blood (nothing exreme/graphic)

also pine needle acupuncture to calm your nerves. (not really XD)

_____________________________

Tarό liked the snow. It was pretty, it shone in the sunlight and blinded him. It crunched in that way that was familiar and brought with it the smell of chestnuts and fire. Tarό was also terrified of the snow. It made him taste copper, it burned his skin and froze his limbs with fantom pain. He could move just fine now, but the tingles of past things still crept all over him. Red stands out brilliantly against white, fat globs of blood shimmering, snowflakes swirling in them. Tarό blinks and the blood is gone, along with any thoughts of it. Pain fades to the back of his mind as he hears it again, this time sung in a deeper voice, that same pleading song. It pulses in his head and he whines. He doesn't even approach it. He's tired. He wants to go home. He doesn't understand why he's here, and he's too weak here to even think of doing anything about the broken thing. He considers briefly the possibility that he is going insane, that he's finally lost it. He whines again, thoughts swilring in his mind. Images and smells and the Thing's voice, insistent and deep and piercing.

Anger rises in him and he snaps his head around to glare at the soft blue light. "Shut up" he says, but it's like he hasn't spoken. He turns his back to it again and lets his legs buckle undearneath him, unceremoniously plopping in the snow, getting half burried in it. Something pricks him from all around and he notices it's hundreds of pine needles. They get tangled in his fur. He closes his eyes at the sensation. It distracts him from the pleading voice. It distracts him from everything. These needles are dead. They lie peacefully, their job done. The trees around were once their bodies, now standing blackened and weak. Hollow. Pine needles fall all around him with each gust of air. Nothing mourns. The trees are silent, the leaves are silent. The dead grass too. He recalls the jungle, the blackened, dead patch of land around another broken thing.

He thinks about it for a very long time. Then he gets up, shakes snow and pine needles off him and turns to the shrine. "If I were granted rest" he tells it, "I wouldn't want some good-for-nothing to come ruining it for me. This place is at peace now. I have a feeling that it's your....condition, that allows it." He looks around. "These trees were old. It's cold here. They survived to grow and now it's only right they don't have to survive anymore. I'm not knowledgable enough to fix you, and I won't try. Perhaps someone else will, but I hope not." He wished for the needles to remain at peace, just as they were, burried in fluffy snow, sleeping. He liked it when new grass sprouted out of the soil and buds burst into flowers, usually. But this, here, was right. Proper. As it should be. Perhaps the thing too, needed to die. But who was he to decide such things? He aproached it and nudged it with a foot, as if to pet it. "You look like ice. I hope, when warm days come to this place, you will melt with the snow and go back into the land from which you came from, and know peace too" The thing cried in its deep voice and suddenly he recoiled, as if burned. The voice he heard was his own. And before anger and confusion could overtake him, the wind blew and countless pne needles fell on him, pricking his skin. And then he was suddenly calm. "Nice trick" he said to the thing, turned around, and left. He walked by the dead leaves and he could sense them settling back into their sleep, content, their tiny sighs so numerous that the cries of the thing were drowned out, and Tarό was soon far enough that his thoughts were his own once again.

_____________________________

For chapter two of shattered peaks, Taro decides to not to fix or harm the shrine token.

Esk featured is

_____________________________

AP BREAKDOWN:

for painting:
Base Score: 10 AP (Shaded Illustration)
+5 AP (Full Body)
+20 AP (Full/Scenic Background)
+5 AP (Personal Work Bonus)
+5 AP (Event Biome Bonus)

+15 AP (Quest Prompt Bonus)
Total AP per submission: 50

for writting:
Base Score: 13 AP (Writing: 669 words)

TOTAL AP: 63

GP BREAKDOWN:

For painting:
Base Score: 4 GP (Shaded Illustration)
+2 GP (Full Body)
+6 GP (Full/Scenic Background)
+2 GP (Event Biome Bonus)
+8GP (Quest prompt Bonus)
Total GP per submission: 22

for writting:

Base Score: 6 GP (Writing: 669 words)

TOTAL GP: 28

_____________________________

ThoseWhoWentMissing