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 Posted: Thu Jan 31, 2013 10:34 pm
 ﻬ DO NOT POST HERE unless you have been invited to do so.ﻬ This Fennekin may be a meta-related character.ﻬ Rehoming rules for meta-related characters apply.ﻬ Newbies and oldbies may apply.ﻬ Due to the nature of his role, he is going to have at least a professional animosity for the Froakie.ﻬ They can be friends, but their roles may eventually create dissonance between them...! Fair warning.ﻬ By entering, you agree to these conditions.ﻬ Please respond to one of the prompts in this thread.ﻬ We expect individual entries around 200-250 words.
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Posted: Thu Jan 31, 2013 11:16 pm
the B A S I C S-- - -
When completing prompts, you may take these as a given:
ﻬ Your Fennekin has a name.
ﻬ You may write the prompts as though your Fennekin is a Teen.
ﻬ We do not expect more than 250 words per entry. Seriously! Just tidbits!
ﻬ All normal rules apply: they cannot be abused, they will not hatch without a guardian or guardians of any kind, Alice is always the high power of Wonderland.
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Posted: Thu Jan 31, 2013 11:29 pm
the P R O M P T S-- - -
Certain prompts are harder, and will be awarded more points for completion:
Easy
Medium
Challenging
?
Ⓐ ﻬ Tell us about the Fennekin's faction: Which one is it, how does he feel about it? What are his thoughts?
Ⓑ ﻬ In order to get by, Fennekin will have a job description. What do you think his title and profession would be?
Ⓒ ﻬ How does your Fennekin feel about Alice, or the Red Queen? Pick one. This prompt can be done twice.
Ⓓ ﻬ Ever heard of Alice Oracle? How does your Fennekin deal with being compared to him?
Ⓔ ﻬ Being a shaman gives one some... unusual talents and hobbies, what might they be?
Ⓕ ﻬ What is your Fennekin's worst fear? And if they had to face it?
Ⓖ ﻬ Free play. You may complete one entry with any subject matter you like!
Ⓗ ﻬ The great detective question: what does your Fennekin determine is happening, given the clues provided by Faust's brother so far?
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Posted: Thu Jan 31, 2013 11:33 pm
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Posted: Fri Feb 01, 2013 12:54 am
"Having fear is healthy.
Having fear is healthy.
Having fear is healthy.”
Virgil chanted his mantra silently to himself in his head as he braced for what was to come. The room in which he sat was dimly lit – not out of choice but because he’d forgotten to pay the bill again and the electricity had cut off. Scentless candles lit his entire bathroom and their reflections in the mirror helped to make the entire room seem somewhat brighter. The fennekin’s eyes were far from trained on the mirror, however. They were scrunched shut as he perched precariously on the ledge of the bathroom counter, his feet practically under the currently dry faucet. He trembled a bit, but it was not from the cold. It was from the fear that consumed him and though he was trying rather hard to face it, he couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes. He didn’t want to see what would be peering back at him. Or he couldn’t see. He told himself both excuses, but he wasn’t quite sure which one was the most true.
He wasn’t afraid of mirrors, although it might seem very much like it – he couldn’t look into them and balked at shiny surfaces in general. One might assume the fox boy would do better in Hearts, where electricity was nonexistent and only those who had a significant amount of money would be able to afford such an expensive luxury item as glass.
No, Virgil was in Spades and he didn’t necessarily like it all that much, but he always reminded himself that things could always be worse. He didn’t feel as though he fit in with the mafia scene, yet there he was – often mocked for trying to bring law and order to the lawless, though he could hardly say he had a spotless record.
He wasn’t afraid of the mirror. It couldn’t hurt him, but it could show him his greatest fear – the truth. Ever since he was a small boy, he had an extra “gift,” so to speak. He could see the truth, the intentions of others. He could see them for who and what they really were. Living in Spades, he had seen many auras, faint colours around his fellow faction members, and had learned to tie those colours to their behaviors and actions, often times they had been ruthless or despicable… But what was his own colour? It wasn’t the mirror he was afraid of, but himself. He was terrified of seeing who he really was, as opposed to who he thought he was.
He inhaled sharply as he tried to reign over his anxieties. His heart was knocking almost painfully against his ribs. Could he face the truth?
“Alice help me. On three…” He gulped.
“One.
Two.
Three.”
He took another deep breath and snapped his crimson eyes open.
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Posted: Tue Feb 05, 2013 1:21 pm
Something was very, very, very, very wrong.
It had started as a sense of foreboding, an unsettling and uncomfortably gnawing feeling at Virgil’s chest. The fennekin knew better than to dismiss it – such a feeling was usually followed by something unpleasant, but this was the first time he had felt it so uniquely intense. It made finding sleep difficult and he had begun to lose weight, as he had little desire to eat. He was possessed by the desire, no, need to figure out what was coming. It was only on an offhanded trip to Diamonds that he found himself steered in the right direction.
He was visiting not because he had to, but because the fire fox had taken to wandering the streets in a futile effort to find the cause of his unease. He was looking for something, anything, to shed some light. Given how intense the feeling was, it couldn’t be something as trivial as past experiences – like bad luck, illness, or death. Er, at least what death those in Wonderland could experience, anyway. This had to be something on a larger scale and encompassing more than himself. It was in Diamonds, just outside of a small bakery, that he heard the buneary, Faust’s brother, babbling on about his dreams. Where as he might have dismissed it as a fractured mind at one point, his keen ears were drawn to the normal-type. Touched by Alice? His gut instinct was rarely wrong and his crimson eyes fell on the other with the same intensity as flames.
He didn’t speak, he merely listened…
And then it struck him.
How could one be afraid – truly afraid, if one was immortal? Essentially they would all live forever, even if their lives sometimes muddled and they forgot things from life to life. Someone could stab him in the chest at that instant, rip out his still beating heart, and devour it… But he would return as an egg. His life would start anew. He would essentially still be the same person.
The fox began to tremble. His breath was short as the gravity of the situation sank in and memories that were not his own plagued his mind, or were they his own? He had no real way of knowing, but pain tore at his frame, both mentally and physically. He felt consumed by the very fire he wielded. A king lost – not physically, not then, but mentally. Turned, cracked, warped, mangled in the mind. Dangerous. Twisted. Changed. He was not the man they knew.
“No…” His voice caught in his throat and while he thought he was making a coherent word, it sounded mangled and unformed to the passersby who gawked at the trembling fennekin. Did he need help? Perhaps someone ought to fetch a doctor for him? Maybe he was ill?
For the first time in Virgil’s life, he felt a different sort of fear. He felt his own mortality, a concept he was previously unfamiliar with. In a world where assassins were a dime a dozen and new life was literally just around the corner, he had never reason to ponder it before. If they didn’t act swiftly, he would return and with him, he would usher in a new era to Wonderland, one the fennekin previously never thought possible. He didn’t know when. He didn’t know how. That really didn’t matter, though. He was so sure of his visions and he worried enough for all of Alice’s children.
He felt hot tears welling in his fiery eyes.
“Maybe… Maybe I should try and gain audience with one of the faction heads?” He really didn’t know what else to do. He felt like a child, alone and uncertain, where once he was sure he was following the right path in this life.
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Posted: Tue Feb 19, 2013 7:14 pm
'Your name means leader, guide. For that is what you'll become.'
Expectations. His life was full of them. Ever since the day he woke sputtering about a voice. Ever since she touched him. Ever since the gift. He was young then, unable to understand anything except what the adults told him. He was considered "special". He hadn't understood at first, for by the time the adults knew he was already immersed in a world where her voice seemed normal. The world he lived in was unlike any others, a world where dreams were interrupted and his days were altered. He remembered the first time he had a vision within the day, the cup smashing as it dropped against the ground and his hands flying to his ears as pain shot through him. He remembered his guardians stares and the other children's quiet curiosity. That was the day he was sent somewhere else.
No one ever said being a messenger was easy, and no one ever said you could choose your role. He had not chosen this path in life, he had merely been summoned. He had not accepted at first, frightened of a future he could not quite understand or grasp at such a young age. Afraid of the Sandslash who tried to train him. Afraid of the world that was becoming more and more revealed to his large crimson eyes. Afraid of the messages he did not quite understand, yet. He had been so frightened, until he heard of Alice Oracle.
It had been his new guardian who spoke of Alice Oracle, sitting before him in a dim yukata, hands stringing beads onto thin string as the child nervously peeked through his bangs. Alice Oracle, a man like him. A man similar to him, called to become a messenger. Called and blessed to become one of the few voices for Alice. Alice, the woman of love and purity. The Sandslash assured the boy, told him stories and tales of both Alice and Alice Oracle. His frightened heart seemed to lessen by the end of that day, and slowly the boy accepted his fate.
Alice Oracle was like him. The boy did not mind the whispers anymore, or the dreams. He did not mind when children began to view him oddly or adults began to expect more of him. No. He was not strange or broken, he was chosen, like Alice Oracle, and he would honor Alice's choice and make her proud. It took months for him to summon the courage, months of frightened gasps and cold shivers before he gave in completely. Before he thrusted his hands into the water and gripped the beads, eyes closing and mouth parting to release soft, calculated breaths. Before he could calm his frightened heart and accept his duty.
'One'
'Two'
'Breathe'
"Alice, I accept your voice. I will become your messenger."
Perhaps, one day, he'd seek Alice Oracle and seek training. Advice. Help. Until then, he'd become as strong as Alice needed him to be. As wise as she wished, and he would offer his being to her. He would become her voice.
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