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 Posted: Sun Dec 08, 2013 1:20 pm
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Posted: Mon Dec 09, 2013 11:20 am
Guardian Name: Singer
Chosen Name: Ruse
Concept: It had started out as a quiet whisper in the mid of the night.
A gentle tug at the back of the blind woman's mind, distracting her from the feeling of the fabric, the cool steel needle in her fingers as she worked, making her p***k herself or her customer for the first time in years. It haunted her dreams, made her toss and turn in her slumber, a sickness that came to her sweetly.
It had become a deafening roar within a week.
She could take it no more. She rose in the night, the call so strong in her heart and mind that she had no problem stumbling through the woods. It felt like she was standing a foot over the ground as she stood before the massive tree, reaching out blindly... and then she felt her fingers wrap around smooth wood, warmth filling her mind as she drew the small totem closer to herself.
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Posted: Sat Dec 14, 2013 3:54 pm
Guardian Name: Sven
Chosen Name: Ivan Andreev
Concept: Sven is the last to gain a chosen. His totem sits at the wardwood tree waiting for the right one to come along, some visit but ultimately leave. It wasn't until one dark and stormy day that his totem finally was lifted from its nook. The hand that wrapped itself around his totem was...wrong. This wasn't right, and the owner of the hand ignored the strange sickening sensation that jumped through him at the mere touch. The thief quickly bagged his find, throwing it into a satchel with other misbegotten totems.
Needless to say, the thief didn't make it far from the forest that day. The frigid weather had washed out all signs of any trail and it would be days before anyone had realized something had gone amiss. No one can say for certain what had happened to the man and his goods. The only evidence left after the storm was an empty satchel and muddy boot still stuck upright.
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A local farmer, Ivan Andreev, tended to his crops at the forest's edge. It was a small field behind his cobblestone farmhouse, but it managed to feed him and his growing family - and put a few coins in his pocket too. A strange glint caught his eye between the trees. At first he thought it was an animal, a wolf... He grabbed his hoe, readying it in defense, and inched towards the darkened tree line. He saw the light again, closer this time, but it was no animal. He relaxed and lowered his tool. Ivan strode over to the object and picked it up. A warmth pulsed through his arm, then spread up and filled his body. This was the right hand.
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Posted: Sat Dec 14, 2013 11:26 pm
I won a Guardian from the flatsale, my first, and I didn't know if you considered having one still a newbie. If not, please just ignore my entry. :3
Guardian Name: Faust
Chosen Name: Celia
Concept:
She took a deep breath and stepped into the mist that curled at the forest edge. Hesitant as always she had found herself at this same spot for the past few nights, staring off into the woods as some invisible force tugged at her chest. Tonight though, tonight the feeling wasn't that of a calling or a begging. Tonight it was something different, something that made the simple, timid girl pick up her skirt and begin walking. Step by step she moved towards the towering trees, slowly gaining momentum as the tug pulled her into the forest. As she occasionally stopped to rest, curled up against an ancient oak with one hand held to her chest as if to cherish that new feeling, she thought of those who would miss her in the day or two she was traveling in this forest. The bakery owner would be angry when she didn't show up for work, her mother would scold her for running off suddenly but then be pleased she had been chosen, and, well, not many others would notice.
Time passed without her notice and she finally found herself in front of the majestic Wardwood. She smiled, tears pricking at her eyes, as she spotted the softly glowing totem that resonated with her so well. Careful not to disturb any others she removed the small grey and gold figure and held it to her chest, letting out a sigh of contentment as she cherished it. Love and acceptance. That was the feeling she could now name.
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Posted: Tue Dec 17, 2013 10:02 am
Guardian Name: Ives
Chosen Name: Loren
Concept: He needed out. Loren could hardly force himself out of bed anymore, but he needed out now. For too long now he'd ignored that burning desire in his chest in favor of the cool dark of his room, the only comforting place he'd known since his wife and infant daughter passed. His brother and his wife had kept guard of sorts, sitting in his living room day in and day out and murmuring amongst themselves about his needing to move on -that, honestly, it was time to live amongst others once more, and other cold remarks that only made the grief stricken man want to bury himself in sleep for the rest of his life. Did they not understand? The world outside was barren without his beautiful wife and daughter. There was no point in anything anymore.
Then, out of nowhere, the want started. One dreary night with rain falling softly in a mist, Loren was roused from his endless slumber by a call he felt deep in his chest. A seed of purpose was planted, but as Loren shifted around in his bed and gazed out into the thick woods outside of his window, he was overcome by fear. Desire like that only led to pain. His heart couldn't take suffering so deep again. Perhaps this feeling was but the remnants of a dream, he thought, falling back into his bed and pulling his blankets high above his head. The following day, the tug continued, his heart beating erratically whenever he opened his eyes to study the trees. His palms would grow sweaty, and he would feel a longing that gathered deep in his throat and made him ache to yell and shout.
Finally, Loren had enough. The night outside was still and clear, stars glittering above and laid in front of him like a path to his destiny. Dimly, in the background, he heard his brother snoring loud enough to shake the house, his sister-in-law's little slumbering murmurs, and the soft creaks of the house settling. His mind was buzzing and alive for the first time in ages; his heart was thudding painfully in his chest. Slowly, slowly, he stood, his feet sliding into his shoes as if he were sleepwalking. He moved. Autopilot. It felt like some strange hallucination the way he moved through the underbrush and trees, his fists clenched beside him as he slowly gained speed. It took but a moment until he came across a tree so beautiful he felt tears p***k at his eyes. There. As his eyes rested upon a small glowing totem, he let out a small breath, trembling down to his toes. There. For the first time in months, his soul felt warm and comforted, his fingers reaching out to brush against the figure that was calling to him. As he cautiously, timidly reached out and grasped it, the sense of affection and peace that filled him up brought him to his knees. Before he knew it, he was weeping; not the tears of loss and surrender he had cried so many times before, but of hope and guidance, of fullness mending his broken heart.
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Posted: Tue Dec 17, 2013 10:56 pm
Guardian Name: Shura
Chosen Name: Alden Saunderson
Concept: At first, it was little more than an itch. Alden thought it, perhaps, to be the stirrings of wishing to go outside. He was not the sportsman like his older brother, nor the hunter like his father, but it did not mean he did have a love for the world. Viscounts had little need for busying their time with anything but social graces, but oh, how the world called to him. He dreamt of journeys on horseback like the tales of old, or taking time to meet the people of Palisade- too much so for his father's approval.
It is very lucky, he could hear the man say, it is your brother due to inherit the title.
Very lucky indeed.
This had to be one of those cravings. While adventurous, Alden did not long for the woods. He had heard enough tales in bed from his mother, had dared to the edge of the trees with his brother... and while he was not a spirit-fearing man, he knew well enough to respect them. Keep your eyes towards the kingdom, and your own spirit would not fail.
So why, then, did he so long to go?
It would pass, Alden told himself. Burying himself in books of law, it became a chant. Almost a prayer, to anyone listening- it would pass. But his fingers still itched along the book's pages, almost choking at his focus.
It would pass.
By night, he dreamt of the trees. Spiraling above him, all around him... and laughter. Not traditional laughter, but the feeling welling in his chest. He could taste the magic in the air, feel the brush of wind around him... it was as though he were home. And if he turned, at the flash of movement behind him, he could almost see--
nothing.
Alden lay in bed, sweat-drenched and panting, over... nothing. A ghost of his imagination. What a fool, his father would tell him! He rolled onto his stomach with a groan, pulling one of the pillows over his head in a desperate attempt to smother out the calling.
By the third night, it was practically a roar.
He had navigated the estate enough, in his odd years of life, that managing at night was trivial. The servants were, for the most part, asleep, and those left wandering were easy enough to dodge. He could only pray that the iron gate would not rouse anyone on the grounds, as far away as it was.
Whether or not it did, Alden could not say.
How long the journey took him, Alden did not know. The soft grasses and stones of the city gave way to the rugged paths of the forest, and Alden wondered if he hadn't finally gone mad. Jealousy? Cabin fever? Who knew. None the less, he pressed onward, called by that lingering feeling at the edge of his awareness. It was almost like a melody, when he focused on it. A siren's song calling him deeper into the wood.
His mind was betraying him. The song overwhelmed his thoughts- had time passed? Was it day, night? Alden was worn, weary, broken by now. Too many branches had gotten the best of him, cut across his skin and brought forth pearls of blood on his skin. His hair, usually so styled, was matted with sweat. His father was going to have his head when he made it home.
But no. The calling, first. That was all he needed.
When his muscles grew weary from the days of travel, he was so enraptured with his goal, Alden felt himself stumble. He was no athlete, no, but to fall so short of his goal...? If he could just push on a little further, walk a little more...
It was as though the forest answered his call.
Deer. Little deer statuettes, all across a gigantic tree. Alden would have laughed aloud, at the sheer audacity of the sight, had he not been so in awe of it. It was as though he had been here before- or, perhaps, he had meant to be here all along.
Maybe, his mind betrayed him, he was simply reading too many fairy tales.
Nonetheless, Alden stepped with caution towards the great tree, feeling himself pulled towards one particular stone. A little grey deer, alight with life and light and these feelings that had been driving him mad.
While a great part of him was relieved to find it, as though he had been missing this small statue all his life, he would admit some apprehension.
His soft hand reached around the back of the object, feeling of its surface, and at once, Alden felt free. This. This was what had sung to him of adventure, and freedom, and laughter. Shaky with exhaustion and his nervousness, the viscount lifted the small totem to himself and laughed.
They were very lucky at home, indeed. From what Alden could tell, he was going to have quite the adventure on his hands with this... this totem.
Whatever it turned out to be.
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