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 Posted: Mon Sep 06, 2010 3:29 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.
Seated at one of the pure white tables outside the café, the lad intently stared at the instrument in his hands. He had garnered quite a number of odd glances thrown his way, from strangers and classmates alike. Alois was clearly labeled as a violinist by his fellow peers, yet why did he decide to clunk around with a weird guitar today? The stringed instrument’s design didn’t even fit Alois’ tastes. He was a simple and serious man. One hand around the neck, he let his other hand mindlessly strum against the sturdy strings. The basic melodies filled his auditory senses, and he continued to blankly strum and strum while he nostalgically remembered his childhood.
He recalled that as a child he was quiet, quieter than he was now. Had it not been for his sister’s influence he would still be just as quiet as he was back then. Alois’ eyes drooped, turning soft with bittersweet affection while his fingers began to play a slightly more complicated song. It was the only song that he knew how to play on the guitar, actually. Brynn had composed it, once upon a time. Upon completing it she had gleefully taught her little brother how to play it on the guitar. Probably one of the most painful weeks he had ever gone through as a kid, he mused with a sour smile.
His eyes closed and leaning back in his chair, Alois played the amateur song over and over, repeating the notes until they were firmly ingrained in his memories. By the time he opened his eyes again, the bright blue sky had transformed into soothing orange with waves of purple and deep red. Muscles sore from remaining frozen for what appeared to be hours, he gladly stretched out his arms as he stood up. The guitar in one hand, Alois slid on the violin case with the other.
He began the long walk back home, unmindful of the dangers of the night as the sky started to bleed dark violet and midnight blue. Shimmering stars and a glowing white moon lit the dirt trail that he loyally followed day after day. However, an obscure blob blocks his path and Alois confusedly stopped in his tracks. Crouching low until he was balanced on the balls of his feet, he peered at the mysterious figure, pale in the moonlight with a few fallen feathers scattered around it. Its hollow eyes briefly glanced at him before flickering back at something else. Alois followed its gaze to notice a cold, rectangular stone a few feet away. Somehow, he awkwardly grasped at its arms and helps drag itself to the slab of marble. While its frail arms protectively clutch the rock, it expectantly stared at the student, silently urging the lad to offer it something.
It left him at a loss. Baffled, Alois plopped himself next to the silent being instead, his knees pointed to the sky. With no other idea in mind, he began to strum the guitar again, once more playing the childhood song he held so dearly. He played it slowly, softly and with the utmost of care. When he finished he glanced at the thing, engaging in a brief staring contest before sighing and reluctantly relinquishing Brynn’s guitar to it. It was old and rusty anyways, or so he told himself.
With the guitar by its side, he refused to look back as he ran back home.
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Posted: Sat Sep 11, 2010 10:36 pm
Herald 09.07.10
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?
He directed his mind back onto an important matter: food. Alois’ usual business was after an hour or so of lounging by Butterscotch Café he would head straight back home. Today being the day that his sister had left home against his parents’ wishes, his typical schedule had gone rather skewed and left him snack-less far longer than he was accustomed to. Though his expression remained blank and indifferent he childishly clutched his stomach, sadly noting how empty it was while it lowly grumbled.
While he remained stoic-faced, he slid off his case as well as his black hoodie. Hearing a rather sudden series of clicks and clatters from outside, Alois peered out the window. The rather foreboding night had turned rather murky and gloomy now as the wet weather turned the world from pale silver to a dull blue-grey. How depressing.
Unblinkingly, the college student turned his attention back to whipping up dinner and strolled over to the refrigerator. The shelves filled with only leftovers, Alois reluctantly pulled out a plastic-wrapped plate of spaghetti and popped it into the microwave. While he listened to the hum of the machine warming up his dinner, he leaned against the kitchen counter and stared out the window above the sink. There isn’t anything particularly interesting to look at, especially when it was so dark and rainy outside. As he was left to ponder whatever the hell he wanted, Alois’ thoughts easily drifted back to the mysterious creature he had met earlier that day.
The microwave dinged as it finished heating up the spaghetti, but he continued to blankly stare outside instead. Had it managed to find shelter? Something in his gut told him that it had not, but clung to the hunk of stone while Brynn’s guitar was abandoned at its side. Perturbed by the idea of the guitar carelessly tossed away, he shot out his arm and grabbed his jacket that lied across the table.
He quickly shrugged on the hoodie and leaned over to grab the strewn keys on the counter. While Alois pulled up his hood he sprinted through the rain, the rubber soles of his converses noisily splashing through puddles and quickly soaking the bottom of his black jeans. His pants uncomfortably clung to his legs, but he kept running anyways, even when the harsh rain finally dug through his clothes to his bare skin. He kept running and running.
How long had he been running for? He had not a clue, but eventually he managed to locate the spot he had first met the messenger. Yet, the spot was empty. Confused, Alois took down his hood and pushed away his bangs to get a closer look at the road side. He squinted his eyes and leaned forward, searching for any sign of the nameless being. When he found none he exasperatedly sighed. Eyes closed, he angled his head back and opened his mouth, collecting the pure droplets of water.
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Posted: Sun Sep 12, 2010 8:34 pm
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Posted: Sun Sep 12, 2010 9:58 pm
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Posted: Fri Oct 01, 2010 4:25 pm
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Posted: Sat Nov 20, 2010 3:46 pm
Herald 09.29.10
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?
His face blank, Alois watched the small boy eat dinner, his hand clumsily wrapped around a metal spoon as he scooped up a mouthful of soup one after the other. The college student was watching, but at the same time he was not. His body was here, but his mind was not. Mechanically his arm moved up and down to feed his mouth with the vegetable soup, but failed to consciously register the fact that yes, he was eating.
“Alois.”
He continued eating, thoughts drifting back and forth between Leslie and his sister, Brynn.
“Alois. Alois. Alois. ALOIS!”
His hand flinched, dropping the soup and sending a small number of droplets splattering across the table. Lips pulled into a frowned and he stood up, chair grating against the floor. “Yes?” His tone remained calm, but his eyes said otherwise. Alois walked to the sink, reaching over to grab a dishrag to wipe the minor mess.
“My back is itchy,” Leslie bluntly stated.
“Is that so?” Alois mindlessly replied, his arms moving in circles as he cleaned. Once he was satisfied he discarded the rag to the side of the table and sat back down, continuing with his dinner.
“My back is itchy,” restated Leslie, pouting and crossing his arms as he silently demanded his guardian to take action.
He complied, strolling over behind Leslie. “Hold your arms up, I’ll take a shirt,” commanded Alois and the Herald obeyed with surprising speed. After roughly pulling off his shirt, he was startled to find a pair of small wings. Curiosity taking the best of him, a hand tentatively reached out to stroke the blue feathers.
Leslie attempted to crane his head to see what Alois was staring at. “What’s wrong?”
“I . . .” Alois paused, wondering how to properly convey this. “You’re growing wings.”
“Oh.” Leslie reacted as if growing wings was completely normal, which he probably thought was indeed normal. He had only been with Alois for a few months and spotted a variety of people with animal appendages, wings included. Growing wings was completely regular, right? “But my back is still itchy!” he reminded.
His cries fell on deaf ears as Alois eyed the oddly-designed wings. Although diminutive and still growing, they were nothing like the typical bird or insect wings Alois was familiar with. Despite containing feathers, it also held unusual metal parts and strings. Alois curiously plucked one, surprised to find that it felt just like a guitar string. His mind flashed back to Brynn’s guitar.
“Alois?” Leslie called out, breaking Alois from his deep thinking.
“Yes, let’s go to the bathroom to get ointment, okay?” he suggested, gently ushering Leslie out of his seat and towards the bathroom. The man followed after the child, Leslie’s shirt in one hand.
Odd. Incredibly odd.
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Posted: Fri Jan 07, 2011 11:35 pm
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Posted: Wed Feb 23, 2011 8:42 pm
Herald 11.20.10
Your Herald has been acting strangely all morning, sneaking around the house, and jumping at every small noise. The cause of this behavior is discovered shortly; you find that a priceless object has been broken and it would appear that it was your Herald that broke it.
What is the object and what is its importance? How do you react to this? Do you punish them or let them off with a warning? How does your Herald react? Was it your Herald that broke the object or maybe he was an observer to the act?
“Leslie, have you seen my violin? It’s gone.” He looked under the lid of his case and glanced around the room. Oddly enough, Alois found his violin bow under a pile of dirty clothes, but his actual violin was still nowhere in sight. His expression contorted one of more confusion as he delicately picked up the stick, examining the string. At least the bow was undamaged and in pristine condition.
“No. Why would I? Violins are boring. Boring!” Leslie snapped back, an edge of panic in his voice.
Alois frowned, raising an eyebrow at the child’s prompt retort. He had expected the Herald to lazily reply in an annoyed tone, likely frustrated that he had been disturbed while playing video games—Leslie had taken a recent liking to them, lately. The boy had curiously dug through Alois’ pile of childhood games and discovered a collection of Mario games. He had been glued to the television screen ever since, much to Alois’ dismay. It was nice to have a sense of peace in the house again—Leslie’s arrival heralded the arrival of boisterous fights and hijinks—but watching the boy stare at the television with blank eyes was creepy.
Violin bow in hand, he walked out into the hallway and peered down the corridor, noticing the small figure plopped in front of the brightly-flashing screen. “Are you sure?” Alois’ tone held soft suspicion, already targeting in on the child’s unusual behavior.
Sighing, Leslie paused his game and looked at his guardian. “Like, yeah, dad. I’m totes sure,” he answered, mimicking the preppy-girl accent that Alois detested. Scowling, the college student retreated to his own bedroom and sulked over his inability to practice.
A few days later Alois found his violin in the laundry room, a deep crack embedded into the polished wood. To be honest, he did not know what to feel at the sight of his broken instrument. It had been expensive monetary-wise, but priceless in terms of sentimental value. A year after Brynn’s disappearance she had mailed him a violin—God knew how she collected the large amounts of money for a good-quality violin—and Alois took it everywhere with him. Even after his skills warranted a new, better violin he refused to purchase another. The sound was not the most high-quality, but it was heavenly-sounding to the lad.
Cradling the wooden violin, he strolled into the living room where Leslie sat, smashing the buttons on his controller. “Do you know what happened to this?” Alois briefly raised his arms to bring attention to the violin.
Leslie guiltily glanced at the instrument, frowned, and returned his attention back to Mario Tennis. “No.” However, he kept nervously glancing at Alois, who refused to budge from his spot. “What?” demanded Leslie, forcing his gaze back onto his game.
“Nothing,” Alois sighed, disappointed at the lack of honesty. “This violin is important to me, but is far past its due. It’s about time I buy a new violin. Just know that violins are expensive and delicate, okay? You have to treat them carefully. ” He turned around, about to walk away until Leslie briefly called out to him.
“Alois! . . . Sorry.”
“. . . I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Alois could hear the smile in Leslie’s chuckle.
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