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 Posted: Mon Jun 09, 2008 7:09 pm
Herald 
When you come upon the scene, it is a weak and dying Herald that you find, unable even to stand. A few scattered feathers on the ground are the only remnants of the wings it once possessed. It has come to this place to die...or be saved? That, of course, is up to you.
You are alone when you find the angel. The Heralds have long gone unsaved, and though it appears to you, it does not hold much hope of living on. Near to where the two of you meet rests a grey stone slab that the angel seems desperate to reach. With your help, the Herald climbs upon it, needing something from you to save its life. What will you choose to give it? And what significance does that item hold for you? Is it a family heirloom? Something you happened to have on hand? Something you'd purchased earlier that day? A lucky charm?
You may have noticed that many details have been left off. This is because we want you to have plenty of freedom to develop the scene yourself. Consider time of day, weather, season, etc. when you post.
Perhaps it was for the best- for without man’s intervention, a certain woman would not have made her home in the desert metropolis that had been all but converted into the gray version of the jungles farther south. For that’s all the city was- though far from rustic and a far cry from organic, the bustling city was indeed a jungle, where a certain bipedal species of ape continuously leapt at one another’s throats, trying in vain to make the most out of life while harboring the most basic of instincts within their sentient minds and mindless day to day actions. Deep within this savage land, however, lived one of millions of women, moving out of the cocoon of the city for the first time in her short life…
“Get the hell out of here, you worthless, cheating--!” Her voice was shrill, her hands balled into fists as she shook them threateningly at the man who was currently the subject of her tirades. Already, however, the blond man was on the defensive, refusing to give any leeway to the brunette woman who threatened to beat him within an inch of his life. She was all talk, and he knew it- the writer who would have rather lived in the Renaissance than the present age could no sooner kill him than a fly could single-handedly devour a car.
“It’s my apartment, you ungrateful b***h! Go back to wherever it was you came from- we’re through!” Already, he held up the deeds to the apartment, where his name was clearly emblazoned on the dotted line- it was true that he owned the place. However, it wasn’t as if she was homeless without him; far from it. Grasping her suitcase of already packed belongings (for she’d packed as soon as she’d discovered his affair a few hours ago), the furious twenty-four year old woman glared at him for all she was worth before letting herself out, making sure to share the doorway with him for a moment before stepping out into the hall.
“I will! And good riddance!” Brining her knee up quickly into his groin, she grinned at the howls of pain he let out as she left, feeling quite pleased with herself indeed as she descended down the two flights of stairs with bare feet. She’d quite forgotten her shoes in her huff, but didn’t care- footwear was the least of her concerns. If he was the considerate b*****d she’d taken him for before he went and slept with her best friend, maybe he’d throw her shoes out the window before she left. Preferably into her car, though she highly doubted that.
Stepping out into the bright sunlight, the auburn-haired woman shaded her eyes, cursing the cheery beams and its hot caresses as she moved towards her black Corolla that was parked not sixty feet away from the doorway to the apartment. With an almost disappointed pout, she realized that no, he hadn’t thrown her shoes at her car. Pity- shoe shopping had always been a bother, what with her small feet being an awkward between size, after all. Angrily fishing the keys from her jeans pocket, she heard something to the effect of, “You b***h!” following her as she stepped into the car, flying the bird none too affectionately as she slammed the door shut.
Starting the car and hearing the affectionate purr of the engine, she found herself feeling grateful for the familiarity of such a simple sound as she pulled away from the apartment, immediately heading out of the city and closer to the coast- a thirty mile drive that was made all the easier with the blast of air conditioner and pleasant classical music playing in the background. Unlike what he’d believed, her only place wasn’t in the city- her actual house and normal commute before she’d met him was outside of the city, and was far nicer than his apartment. Having refused to let him over to her place from the get go, Diedre had kept her own home quite secret- it was too far for him to drive to, anyway, what with him griping about rising gasoline prices and the convenience of his own lot to hers.
And now she didn’t regret it. The last thing she needed was a bunch of eggs painting her house; with how immature he was being, she certainly wouldn’t put it past him. She was only glad that she got her car out safe and sound. Patting the dashboard affectionately, she made her way into the small coastal town she called home and pulled into her driveway with little fuss. Pocketing her keys, brushing a lock of her hair over her shoulders, and grabbing the now all-too-memorable suitcase, she made her way towards the steps of her two-story home, unlocking it with one hand and lightly kicking the door closed with her bare feet as she dropped the leather case onto the hardwood floors.
Moving towards her living room, which was quite cozy indeed, Diedre moved towards the thermostat, clicking it a few times and hearing it come to life. The soft whirring of the air conditioner immediately brought a smile to her face, allowing her to relax as she brought the suitcase into the room, ready to unpack everything and put them back into their appropriate places in her house. Unlocking it with a small key, she heard the locks within snap open, and she gingerly held her prizes close. She didn’t bother bringing back any clothes, since she had some here, but instead brought her favorite decorative items, which she had acquired from venues and events from all around the city.
Sitting with her silk handkerchiefs nestled between them were two silver dragon statues, each with encrusted jewels in their hides. Though they were beautiful, she moved them aside to reveal more treasures- a beautiful mirror decorated with pewter vines and faeries, a small hourglass nestled in the jaws of a gold jackal, and finally, the prize of her collection, nestled betwixt the lot. A small perfume bottle, or so she’d been told by the gypsy that sold it to her at a Renaissance gathering, had been enchanted to literally hold the heart of a storm within it. No matter how much she’d looked and pondered at its beauty, she never once had been able to figure out how the old woman had gotten the lightning bolts within to continue to flash and the clouds to roll chaotically within the glass.
It couldn’t possibly have been a hologram- no self-respecting Renaissance faire attendee would ever stoop so low- and yet there seemed to be no other explanation for the anomaly she saw within the glass day after day. Perhaps the most unusual part of it all was that her boyfriend… ex boyfriend… couldn’t see anything inside it at all, accusing her of being mad for staring at a perfume bottle for hours on end. Worse yet, he’d told her, was that she was loony enough to actually write about it!
Smiling bitterly at the beautiful flask, she was about to set it down when she heard quite the unusual noise just outside of her home. Jerking upright and staring with eyes as large as saucers, Diedre shook her head, wondering if the white flash she’d seen just outside of her sliding glass doors was an illusion or not. She’d certainly seen stranger things, to be sure, but no one she’d ever seen had such startling white locks before. Though her mind screamed at her to call the cops, warn them that some strange, white-haired thing had appeared in her yard, something within her yearned to go outside and see for herself just what this anomaly incarnate was. Listening to the latter as the former shrieked insistently at her, the author placed the crystal bottle on her table gently as she moved towards the door, her curiosity getting the better of her.
Sliding open the glass with hesitation, the barefoot woman was shocked to find just who had made the shuffling noise, and the unusual nature of it all. Lying on the ground, struggling to get up, was something out of a fantasy novel- a beautiful, sexless being with skin pale as moonlight, and hair so white it was virtually translucent. Though not clothed in the least, its long hair covered its body to some extent. Though it tried to move, its body trembled with exertion as it moved towards the back corner of her backyard. Moving towards the Herald with a sense of alarm, she tried to remember everything she’d ever been told about such creatures- her mind was in a haze as her maternal instinct bade her to help the poor fallen messenger in any way possible.
As she approached, the Herald looked behind it, its eyes drenched with sorrow and longing as it lifted its hand just enough to reach out towards the stone fixture she’d always kept in the back. The same gypsy that had sold her the bottle had also told her about another vendor who sold enchanted stonework- though she’d thought she’d been conned for weeks after she’d bought it, Diedre never truly regretted buying the beautifully engraved tablet. It had always looked out of place in her yard, but its solemn beauty was apparently much more than her eyes ever let on. If even the creature was attracted to it, then perhaps the old woman had been correct, after all!
“You want… you want to get to there?” Speaking softly, so as not to scare the heavenly being, the author was surprised to see it nod slowly, its hand reaching out once again. Though heartbreaking, she had to admit that every movement the ethereal being made seemed beautiful and graceful- she wondered just how much more so this being was when she had been at her best. As they moved across the yard, with the Herald holding on weakly to Diedre’s shoulders, the writer could see the translucent feathers fall to the earth, turning from beautiful snowy white to the color of spun glass as they touched the damp blades of grass.
Laying the Herald upon the stone tablet, she watched as the messenger’s eyes lit up for a moment, looking past the author and into her home, once again pointing ever so faintly. Though the brunette initially followed its pointing hand, she could not fathom what the Herald wanted until she saw the tiniest spark in her eyes- then it all became clear. As if her mind had been clouded by confusion, the Herald’s wanting glance had blown every bit of uncertainty from her mind. The look of need was universal, even if tongues were not. Clutching the outstretched hand, the writer made contact with the Herald’s eyes for a moment.
“It’s the bottle, right? You want the bottle? I’ll be right back- please don’t die… I’ll bring the bottle, and then I’ll call the ambulance. They’ll know how to fix you up, I promise!” Rushing inside and not caring how her damp, muddy feet would murder the quality of the crimson carpet that lined her living room floor, Diedre threw open the glass door and snatched up the bottle, also grabbing a small bottle of water before rushing back outside. Already, as she passed by, she could see the remnants of the feathers crumble and dissolve as they simply vanished- a sign that did not bode well for the life of the messenger that lay prone upon the stone. Already, its breathing was labored, and its eyelids heavy, as if merely opening them was more than it could accomplish.
However, at the sight of the bottle, its eyes gave off that same spark of revelation- that same spark that spelled out hope. A small, pitiful mew of wanting escaped its lips, and it weakly opened its hands in a cupping motion, ready for when Diedre gingerly placed the crystal bottle within its hands. Thinking that the Herald would be enraptured enough to hang on to life, the author mumbled incoherently to herself as she twisted the water bottle open, ready to get the messenger to try to drink. If its feathers were any indication, its health must truly be in danger—
But a flash of white light erupted from the messenger’s body as it laid a gentle kiss upon the glass, and Diedre dropped the bottle into the grass, swearing as the life-giving water spilled out into the uncaring blades below.
“Oh, no… now what are you going to—huh?” Rubbing her eyes for a moment, she looked up, only to find the Herald sitting up, smiling at her with what she could have sworn were sparks erupting from its eyes before, closing its eyes, fading into nothingness.
Diedre could only stare at the empty spot where it once sat, not caring about the missing perfume bottle or its imbedded storm, let alone the mess she’d made on the carpet inside.
…What just happened?!
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Posted: Wed Jun 18, 2008 1:33 pm
Herald 06.13.08
You sit inside, protected and comfortable as the weather rages outside. The evening meal is on the table, and you're filled with an intense feeling of well-being.
Your mind veers, against your will, to the dying creature that you had come across. It certainly wouldn?t be comfortable tonight. What are you thinking? It's probably already long gone. But...what if it isn't?
What's it actually like outside? Do you go in search of the Herald? What do you bring to make it more comfortable, if so? Do you even find it?
So she’d shut herself inside, naturally. There was no way that the writer would brave the outdoors at a time like this.
However, having just moved back in and having refused to go outside in wake of the particularly nasty weather, she was without food- her pantries were bare (save for a few cockroaches, which she screamed at and promptly beat to death with a spatula), and her refrigerator was no better. Had she tried, she couldn’t have even scrounged up enough food to feed a mouse for its afternoon snack. Irritated by this, she’d lived off of takeout, forcing the delivery boys to drive through the wind, heat, or rain to deliver the food straight to her doorstep. She always tipped well, of course- and always bought extra. Even now, two leftover burgers were in the fridge, right beside the twelve pack of soda cans she’d bought from a local grocery store’s delivery service.
But looking outside at the blustering winds and the raindrops that clamored at her doorstep, she frowned at the thought of leftovers, promptly picking up the nearby phone and holding the receiver up to her ear, punching in the pizzeria’s number and listening to the familiar purr of the ringing on the other end of the line. Shortly after giving her order to the clearly disgruntled manager, she hung up the phone, letting it sit on its perch as she looked outside, where lightning lit up the sky with increasing intensity. She had no need to feel worried- even if a freak bolt were to strike her home, there was always her car to run to. The house was fully insured, and she even dished out royalties to cover ‘acts of god’... Which, of course, included lightning.
The pizza arrived surprisingly early, and she was left quite shocked when the boy ran up to her door, no more than sixteen years of age, cursing under his breath as he was soaked from head to toe in his attempts to cover the two pepperoni pizzas from the aquatic onslaught. Giving him a cheap, plastic raincoat as a tip along with her normal payment, Diedre thanked him and ushered the thankful teen away (though he did continue swearing at the irony of trying to keep a wet body dry), relishing in the delightful aroma of melted cheese and salty pepperoni as she moved inside, closing the door and locking it. Moving to the living room and setting the twin pizzas down on the table, she frowned with realization- there was no way she was going to eat it all. Why had she ordered more than one, if she couldn’t even finish half?
It hadn’t been the first time she’d ordered for more than one, either. The leftover burgers in the fridge had been out of an order of five- of which she had eaten one for each meal- even though she knew that she had never in her life eaten more than one burger in a sitting! Made her sick, after all. And yet, she’d ordered for two, and such a thing confused her. Sighing and sticking one of the steaming slices onto a ceramic plate she’d fetched from the kitchen, she sat back in her recliner and picked up her laptop, content to spend the rest of the evening typing out her next novel. While she wasn’t quite sure how far she’d take the fantasy elements this time, she was always happy to let her mind wander, and let her fingers fly over the keyboard of their own accord. It usually worked out in the end. Any kinks that she left in the text would be caught by the editor later on, down the line.
And so, letting the pizza sit beside her and letting the words flow from her fingers, she found her mind wandering, as it normally did- it fostered the creative process, she found. However, this time, her mind focused on flashes of white- the glow of brilliant blue eyes- the radiance of a heavenly messenger. And, before she’d realized it, she’d literally written the messenger into her own text, staring appalled at the direct inferences she’d made concerning the Herald she’d met! Pouting, she looked outside for a moment, out to the stone tablet. The weather certainly wasn’t going to get better any time soon, if appearances counted for anything.
Her steaming slice of cheesy, soft-crust pizza began to cool as she closed her laptop, sighing deeply- she couldn’t leave the creature... whatever it was... out in the cold. Wherever it was, anyway. It certainly didn’t stick around after she’d given it the bottle, after all- just up and left. Keeping the box closed on the rest of the slices so as to keep them still hot and fresh, she stood up, grabbing one of her cheaper jackets in readiness to hold it over her head. Moving to the front door, rather than the back (how would it get back over the fence, after all?), she clutched the jacket to her, braced herself, and prepared to throw herself into the great outdoors.
Thump.
At that noise, she paused. Was someone trying to break in?
Thump.
Moving into the kitchen, rather than the front door, Diedre clutched a knife tightly in her shaking hands, trying to tell herself to calm down, even as... whoever or whatever it was kept banging on the back door.
Thump. Thump, THUMP!
Moving closer to her living room, so as to grab the phone and call the police as soon as possible (damn her lack of a cell phone!), Diedre crept in with as much subtlety as a terrified woman could muster, flinching at shadows... and especially that god-awful noise against her glass door.
Thump, thump, thu—
But it promptly stopped, and Diedre froze in turn. Why did it stop, whatever it was, and why hadn't it broken the glass yet? It wasn't shatterproof, yet- that wouldn't be until next week, at the very least- and she'd done quite a number on glass things just with a wayward thrown shoe. If someone wanted to break it, it wouldn't take more than a solid whack with a brick.
Even more unnerving was the sudden silence, then a soft knocking on the glass. Mustering up her courage, she sat up from behind the couch, just letting her eyes and top of her head over it in order to see the mystery assailant. God forbid if it was something stupid like a tree branch...
But she was greeted with a flash of white, and a cheerful but curious face staring at her door with more innocence and familiarity than Diedre could have ever thought possible. Realizing just who had tried to break in, the woman could not resist the urge to laugh jovially at herself, dropping the knife from her hands and watching the Herald do its work on her glass door. She could always get it replaced if something broke.
The sexless messenger was staring at the glass, poking at its reflection, then cupping its face as if wondering if that's what it truly looked like without its glorious wings. Almost as if to prove her guess correct, the Herald turned around and looked back at the glass, pouting at the lack of its wings before resuming its former task.
Looking for her in the other room, the Herald knocked on the glass again to get her attention.
Laughing more still and moving to the door, she watched the messenger's eyes light up with recognition as it pointed to the glass.
"It's all right, I'll let you in. Come now, you must be freezing."
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Posted: Tue Feb 17, 2009 6:53 pm
Herald 07.04.08
Time has passed, and your Herald is becoming fond of you and beginning to show affection. You two have grown closer, but that's not the only aspect of growing.
The Herald is maturing into a young child before your eyes. No longer dying and weak and no longer sexless, it now has beautiful angel white hair and dark blue eyes of unusual depth. You may have noticed that the Herald has been scratching and touching its back for a while, and now it's finally explained. The herald's wings have started to grow in.
How do you deal with the child's discomfort? Do you have any remedies to ease it? How does he/she react? How do the wings reflect the item given?
Hour upon hour, day after day, Diedre found herself pulling the child's hands from her back time after time whenever she caught the little girl scratching at her back. Red welts that rose up from her fingernails' insistent raking not only caused the child a severe amount of distress, but were rather unsightly whenever they happened to go outside- it had meant uncomfortable petticoats for the small Herald and quite the amount of distress from her adopted mother.
"Mommy, it itches." Despite this, however, she kept at it. No healing salve ever stayed on the pale child's skin long enough for the red rake marks to begin to fade, let alone disappear. Had it not been for the fact that she hadn't been able to actually officially adopt little Saeles- her little bundle of innocent joy- she would've taken her to see any amount of specialists necessary, protests or no. Dermatologists to see if her skin was all right, an orthopedic specialist or two to see if there were any bone spurs causing her discomfort, perhaps a few specialists to see if they could find any underlying cause of the scratching...
"Hush, love. Here, stay still..." Diedre took out the bottle of anti-itch cream again and tried what she knew by now was a futile effort to rub the medicine into the child's skin. Saeles already complained about this- the cold never did help, she argued- but Diedre always won these arguments in the end.
Soft fingertips that were normally sensitive to the feeling of plastic keys beneath them paused as they rode over two places on her back... symmetrical rises of the flesh, just where her so-called adopted daughter had been scratching this entire time. When she ran her fingers over them again to be sure, Saeles let out a little protesting whine and started scratching again.
"You've made it itchy..." A pouting accusation, one that lacked true bite, but true nonetheless. The sensation of lightly gliding fingertips didn't assuage the young girl's raging urge to scratch one bit, any more than poking at a puppy's gums made them want to stop chewing. Throwing her hands up in defeat, her guardian sat back, exasperated, watching what little work she'd done go to waste for what had to be the umpteenth time this month.
It'd been a few months, now, since she'd taken the little one in. From being unable to figure out whether it was a 'he' or a 'she' (that took a good week or so to figure out, until she realized she had to bathe the child herself) to developing into a delightfully cute but pouting girl, Saeles had somehow wormed her way into Diedre's heart. Not that it was a bad thing. Lots of good things came in the form of parasitic metaphors!
If there was one thing she had to admit, though, the little one did have a way of leeching her snack supplies. The child loved her salty snacks, and even now, a moment of reprieve was punctuated by Saeles popping a single piece of beef jerky into her mouth. She never really chewed it- just sucked on it for a good long time, enjoying the taste.
The longest Diedre had seen was a piece that had lasted almost eight hours, at which point she demanded that her little Herald finish her treat or spit it out. It couldn't be good for her teeth to work on a single piece of meat for so long. As usual, Saeles showed no sign of even thinking about relinquishing her little edible treat, merely sitting in silence as she sucked on it and absentmindedly rubbing at the two round, angry red knobs that stuck out just between her shoulder blades.
While Saeles was content with sitting still, however, Diedre had had enough. Standing up and ruffling Saeles's head (with a resounding, questioning squeak for her troubles) with the palm of her hand, the author quickly moved to her computer, determined to figure out just what was ailing her little angel. Tying her hair back and bracing herself before the little white keyboard, she took a deep breath and plunged into the realms of research.
The bright white and irritatingly happy search engine page came up to greet her, but she shoved right past it, inputting all the symptoms of her little darling into the system and waiting for it to process her 80 WPM requests. While the irritating little hourglass did its little cartwheels and she cursed her slow internet connection (however free it was), she heard her little one shuffling around the main room, knocking over things here and there. That was pretty normal.
"Uwawawah..."
That wasn't. Neither was the sound of something heavy collapsing in the living room, followed by the sound of something squishing.
"Saeles?!" A feeling of cold dread washed through her, and Diedre immediately threw her computer aside on the desk and ran to the main room, not caring that she'd disheveled several stacks of tax forms in the process. That could wait. If her Herald was hurt...
"Ma?"
But there she was, lying on the floor and merely letting two moist... things... dry. She looked like a fright, lying prone on the floor, but her eyes were inquisitive and completely devoid of pain, fear, or shock- that was a good sign. In fact, she looked fairly concerned for her guardian, which seemed a little backwards.
"Saeles, are you...?"
"No more itchies, ma."
When a spark leapt between her two feathered wings like a tesla coil, it was all Diedre could do to hold back a start.
It was all coming together.
And she figured that hugging her right now might not be the smartest idea.
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