Going out - it was a concept. One he'd prepared to undertake at length. With proper planning, extensively. Picked a local, time, ways out, escape routes. Had lines of dialogue for dealing with personality type x - y - z and "No, officer I don't know this man." and "I plead the fifth" because he'd seen far to many real life t.v dramas without experiencing any of what came along with that.
That was the point though, wasn't it? All the careful preparations, all the time spent building himself. 6-6 and the academy had made him into someone who could be a 'team member', who could be smart, and punctual, and a perfect semblance of adulthood worn into a frame of youth. What it hadn't done was allow him for any sense of self outside of that. Free now, nearly 18, and he was carving the days up until it out of his calendar. Cutting them off with quick snips of scissors like he was cutting out a paper doll shaped like his new life.
Wanted the numbers to so badly be different that he had pushed up his own time frame for dates and times of which to try things, 'experiences'.
Had slated out a warehouse district event, slated after that another, this one a little more risque, but he wanted to up the ante, was being 'dangerous and bold'. Going places he'd never gone before.
Fake Id and money in hand, cash, because it felt too dangerous to carry a debit card. Just a small amount of cash money - just in case - slid into a slim little wallet that got chained to a small link of silver around his neck and tucked down the front of a strip of spandex that lay beneath the layers of laced up black and teal fabric stretched over it.
Done up - that was what he felt like, what he wanted. To be done up, inviting, daring. Wanted to see what it felt like to tease people into free drinks, to say he was old enough to have those free drinks, to decided if alcohol would be something he'd actually learn to enjoy and what type of drink was he?
Everyone else seemed to know - people of power and wealth - they had a drink or they had none at all. Whiskey men, mojito women, wine snobs. Mier lacked for labels and craved the lacking. He was not a blank slate sort of person, he was a person who would know himself inside and out. Would have choices and knowledge of all the particulates that went into those choices and why he favored a deep dry red over a soft pink bubbly.
That was what he wanted at least. With all of himself. He could be a 'good person', and kind, and useful. What he wanted though? Was the power to compel people to find him useful without even trying - and more than that - wanted to sound more grown than he felt when he spoke with others. That required experiences, it was what all the jobs wanted, what all the adults had. Experience of life. Mier wondered if such a thing could be fast tracked. Thought he'd put in his best effort at trying it; as he laced his eyes with thin liner, and painted his lips to match the sclera, something soft to offset the dark colors of the rest of his wardrobe. So many years of uniforms and uniformity and 'blending'. In this? He would stand out, would never deem to fit in like a puzzle piece again. Would be the puzzle master - puppet master - pull the strings and put people at his feet instead of setting himself at others and asking if they needed a shine - if only because he'd believed that was the best way to endear himself to them. To endear himself to the types who ran the world.
Couldn't run the world if he was busy serving and playing pretty little children's games...would try this instead, if only to see if he were capable of it.
Wc: 684
Posted: Mon Aug 23, 2021 4:15 am
A Wish Once Made
The Wishing Tree (1): A Destiny City Star Festival Tradition to be held every year; In Town Square, there is a beautiful tree with spreading branches. It is tall, but the lowest branches are easily reached. The city has decorated the tree with small, starlike ornaments and glistening lights. Thick leaves and beautiful purple flowers dangle from the branches, along with a myriad of different colored papers with handwritten wishes. Next to the tree is a stack of blank paper with twine attached, and a handwritten sign that explains:
Write your wish on a sheet of paper and tie it to the tree. Take one wish off the tree and do your best to grant it. When you have granted the wish, bury the paper in the park.
The papers are biodegradable and filled with seeds. There are no rules for wishing, but you are encouraged to wish for something vague enough that it can be interpreted in many ways so that it can be granted; you do not write your name on it, but it is encouraged to write something that doesn’t wish for self gain, but rather something that can make the world a better place. Some wishes dangling from the tree already include things like “I wish there wasn’t so much litter in the park,” “I wish someone would clean the graffiti off the old historic buildings,” and “I wish there were more volunteers at the shelter.”
If you choose to use the Wishing Tree, what do you wish for? If your wish is private, you may write it on the paper and choose a spot in the park and bury it yourself instead of hanging it on the tree.
Mier clipped through the park at his leisure, a soft bag of sweet-buns tucked between thumb and forefinger, while long lilac lacquered nails plucked each heated morsel free. Puffed soft bits of steam off every dusty sphere before edging the sugar-cinnamon coated bite past lips that bore the colors of spring (matt not gloss) well into summer time; because he was both a spring and a winter, always had been, always would be. Enjoyed the duality of having access to soft pastels and bright tinted blues that edged around frigid nights. Liked his outfits to match, to some degree, to have his nails wearable with multiple ensembles. If that meant the could get a daisy pleated tank to go with some matching floral wedges? All the better.
Flanked by onlookers, family parties, groups of friends, and him choosing to take this particular tour alone -- at least the first time. So he could pick out which attractions would be good to..to what? Invite the team to? To take Gil along for, some warm heated thing for all the ways he missed that man in-between bouts of work and --
A wishing tree! Rose orbs alight and he chewed through three more sweet-buns before he'd made it to the roots of the glimmering giant. Took a nice slow twirl beneath a few heavy boughs and dared to bat at low-hanging lights for the fun of it. For the Thrill!
All the kitschy little festival games he never thought he'd participate in, and this was one of them, for all the ways the rules of it were written to deter selfishness, and for how he couldn't derive a single wish that wasn't in itself? Purely for him. Rules be damned, he was writing something this time. Taking his newly found freedom and access to 'adulting' to new heights, with nineteen around the corner? It seemed the thing to do - live a little - learn to enjoy what had so filled his head every waking moment over the last four years.
Mier went out of his way to pick a well cut square of paper in a delicate and dark shade, smoothed it flatter than the rest, and started in on a private wish. He even brought his own pen, ice blue, gel tipped every 'I' with a heart and made the edges of every T a sharply edged slash of distinction. Mier liked to write in cursive, found the looping scrawl far more delicate and desirable than whatever hashtag chicken scratch everyone was made to learn today. If he studied it on his own? Learned to read it via way of tutorials and training pads, well then, wasn't that more to his benefit? Being able to decipher what felt like some ancient language or foreign tongue -- there was some fun in it -- feeling like his hard-thought wish was even more secretive. It wasn't as though he desired anyone to full-fill it, really, just for it to exist in all it's beautifully written glory!
That was his thought at least, as he folded up the little seed pouch and packet and neatly did up a bow, made it look like a present to hang from the tree proper, before he was on his way again; off to whatever venture next tugged his heartstrings.
WC: 547
Shiningamisgirl
Ruthless Consumer
Offline
Shiningamisgirl
Ruthless Consumer
Offline
Posted: Fri Jun 17, 2022 12:32 pm
Is twice Repaid
The Wishing Tree (2) : Your wish is only said to come true if you grant the wish of someone else; when you write your wish, you must also take one off of the tree and do your best to grant it. What wish do you pull off, and how do you intend to ‘grant’ it? Do you work with someone else to grant this wish, or do you work alone? You may get approval from another player to use the wish their character hung up, but no names are attached so your character may not ever know who wrote it!
Mier S. Law was a boy, no, wait! A Man! A Young Adult?
Tsk - regardless! Mier Was. And whatever Mier Was? Diasporaite was not. Diasporite was beyond, above, and existed far past whatever pathetic civilian reach Mier had! He Scoured the cosmos of chaos and served well, not only his own goals, but those of his beloved team members! Which meant tonight? Diasporite was a doer of good and granter of wishes. Yes, maybe it all felt a little beneath him, but he couldn't help himself, the idea of taking home a pack of seeds as reward, of beautifying the landscape -- ooh all the imagined applause and accolades he achieved, that was more than enough to spur him on.
He picked a handful, because if he was going to be the best? The greatest do-erest of goodness - then he was going to be ******** extra about it. Overachiever to the max, so he opened one, two, three, ten...The light in his eyes died down into dim disbelieve as they all seemed to become more and more of the same message, the same endless plea for greenery and shrubbery and growth! Written in crayon, pen, pencil, scrawled into lines that blasted out like they were screamed. Some had even torn through the paper with how much presser had been poured into each desperate and desirous wish.
"I wish the gardens hadn't died."
"I wish the sunflowers on Central would come back."
"I wish my meemahs oranges weren't brown..."
"I wish the City would do something about this Blight!!"
They went on, and on, and on -- Diasporite left a scattering of origami packets, torn wishes, scattered and ripped bits of seemingly endless garden aligned sob stories and tales of dead ferns, succulents -- etc. This man wanted his sunflower seeds back in stock, but that couldn't happen as the suppliers soil had gone bad, foul, rotten! Dia took the packets of seeds, dumped them carefully around the concrete that he'd messed upon, made a scattering of the whole like he was some mad detective hunting down a serial killer -- no -- a mass murderer of all things green.
Even the seeds seemed...pathetic? How were seeds supposed to seem? Certainly not like dust, not like packets of sand and decay, they should've been small sturdy things, instead they were easily crushed, seemed to blow away with the barest of breath he heaved in disparate frustrated angst. "What the actual, hell, is all of this about!" he wasn't some green thumbed farming miracle! How was he supposed to complete a wish unless he knew more of the details behind it!
Someone would know, surely? Couldn't be a coincidence that so many people were experiencing the exact same sort of problem at the exact same time, not in Destiny City, there were no coincidences...
There were, however, vicious aliens that wanted *nothing* - save the demise of their earth. It made sense to him, even when they didn't say it, even when they saved him and were friendly, that with all their worlds gone and dead and forever reliving that same dying....
What if they'd brought their dying here with them? If those same senshi carried some disease of their planets, piggyback style, they should've been quarentined...culled.
"First things first. I'm finding out the reason behind this, and then? Then I can answer your wishes."
WC:557
Posted: Sat Jul 06, 2024 3:33 am
A Summer Worth Coming Home For
Firework Flowers (13) : A rare and unique breed of flowers that blossom into long, stiff-stamened, spherical orbs like those of the blossoming Powder-Puff flowers are on full display in Destiny City. A unique hybrid of several species, these plants were being engineered at a small landscaping company. While they were only meant to exist in their private greenhouse as they continued development, a simple accident resulted in thousands of seeds spreading across Destiny City. Thankfully, the Firework Flower is a beautiful, albeit temporary addition. The stems grow rapidly and look like tall blades of grass until the week before the flower blooms; the bulb is hardy and opens overnight to reveal the beautiful firework flower, which can be found in almost any color. However, unlike normal Powder-Puff flowers, when these flowers are jostled they explode in a burst of colors. Whether it is a simple touch or a strong breeze, these ‘Firework Flowers’ seem to burn up from the center of the flower outwards. It creates a beautiful display of light–especially at night. Scientists describe it as a harmless chemical reaction and encourage everyone to appreciate the flowers while they are here. The dust from an explosion can carry on the wind and will glow for a few hours after the reaction. The explosion cannot harm anyone and poses no danger to anyone.
The sky was made of fire---
How Mier giggled at the sight of it, breathlessly, fearlessly. Laughing as he crested a hill laden thick with winding, twining rows; red, yellow, crimson flares of foliage! Fields bleeding streaks of fire-seed that exploded at the slightest breeze, the lightest touch, the gentlest sneeze. His every sway of motion set another stalk off. Kicking the stem of one sent a bulb shooting it's essence up into the sky! He luxuriated in that feeling for awhile; feigned competence, child-like control. like he was the maestro and the very earth something he could bend to his will and turn to his song. With just a thought, even. Dragging the barest hint of slender, blue-orange-fluoresced nails over stems that made sunflowers seem like plants of a shrunken world. The glory's that existed here on earth that made space feel small in comparison.
At least to him---
Who'd seen enough of it to find it dreadfully terrifying and destructively distant.
Not here though. Not now. Skipping through to the next patch of growth as air was consumed by the firework-flowers and their swelling puffs. Grinning overbright at the drafting petals and the flaming dust they left trailing like fireflies -- like the aftermath of explosions meant to end the world on a tiny, miniscule, plant-like scale. And where there should have been fear for the unknown? That all too familiar feeling that he could reach for with a finger-tips touch when he tried - with a thought, if he tried - Oh, this time when he tried? There was none to be found, and the absence wasn't nearly as strange as it was wonderful! A suffused warmth that stayed, even as he dumped himself onto the ground and simply enjoyed the time it took to lay where he was. Lengthy braid tucked up messy beneath his skull like an ombre-slicked pillow of silk. His arms beneath that, extra cushioning from the itchy grass, the rough stones that occasionally littered the path between the tufts of summer-sharp grass blades.
This was the laziest he'd ever felt, the happiest too, maybe? In over a year and a half -- in a little longer than that, even. It made ever single slice of missed opportunity and dulled hope fade into background noise, quieted the endless what ifs that had amassed in the months between his absence from what had become the norm's in his life.
It was peaceful, and wasn't that a strange thing to think about a sky full of drifting bits of totally harmless, heatless wild-fire? Mier thought it was, but was it stranger than anything else he'd yet to encounter in this place? That idea alone, that 'this' could be stranger than anything he'd yet to encounter? It made him snicker all the more, kicked back and gazing up into the darkening pits of space, its sadly blinking worlds full of sad Senshi, ruthless machines, and all their planetary ghosts.....
And then there was a burst of blue, a strange drift of ghost-fire colored plume that caught his eye for how it matched nothing of the surroundings around him. Mier was gripped briefly by curiosity of the most morbid kind, feeling briefly invisible as he crawled towards the off-colored bulb.
Though when he touched these petals; breath held and galaxy-pink eyes wide-- There was no burst of flame, no bright explosion, no shimmer of plantseed and petal swathing the skies with yet still more sparkling fire. There was just a blue orb, its translucent, ephemeral shape -- it's buzzing imagery as it appeared to bob between him, and the air, and him, and....
He found himself taking it home by the end of the night. Humming an offkey song by the cults as he skipped every other crack, and gave not a single care for how he looked to the world. His little wisp sitting side-shoulder, tucked between the line of ear and his loose, dry-grass laden braid. He'd shower the seeds out later, discern the nature of the harmless bit of fluff after that.
