Strange Gift

Solo or RP Format
Counts as 5 RP growth Points
Solo word minimum is 750, RP post minimum is 7

Tis the season for gift giving, a sense of celebration as the year comes to an end. You get all the gifts you expect, and give some out as well. However, a strange, unmarked gift has arrived. You have no idea who sent it, or what it might be. Is it something from an admirer, or possibly a bit more sinister?

[ Your character receives an unexpected gift. Feel free to answer this prompt exploring the thoughts around such thing, the suspicion or confusion, maybe even resolving it with finding out who the gift giver was. Maybe it's someone you know, but it's a surprise. Maybe it's a mistake. The only way to find out is to open the present. ]


Farah ran the edge of his scrimshaw needle across a particularly tricky femur. He wasn’t entirely sure what sort of creature would have left it behind, but it washed up during the last storm and he’d taken a shine to it. The sea had taken its toll on the discarded prize and even now, with the moon high above him, Farah was glad it wasn’t worse.

Since he’d started his work his father had become more and more distant. Taavetti’s regular visits had dropped back to once a month; much as they had been before Faydis’ disappearance. Farah knew he had only visited bi-weekly to make up for her loss and while it had helped initially he found his father’s presence more of an annoyance now. Taavetti talked more and more about poultices that Farah could take that would let him stay in the village proper – make it easier for others to care for him – but that wasn’t what he wanted. He’d never wanted to be surrounded by others or to have parts of himself suppressed like Faydis. She was never really herself when she took those and maybe...maybe that’s why she was gone.

The needle caught once more and in Farah’s growing aggravation he gave it rough tug, effectively chipping away more bone and ruining his progress. With a loud string of curses and screams, he tossed the needle to the other side of his hut and slammed the ruined femur down onto his worktable. He rammed it down once, twice, three times, and then just kept going until the manic energy building in his blood was spent. Farah’s hair had long since fallen out of its tie and his curls framed his flushed face like a noose.

She’d asked him once why he didn’t just give in. Wouldn’t it be better than trying to drown them out every day? The one healer Taavetti had managed to get to the island had been concerned about Farah’s isolation – stating it was detrimental to his mental state – but he’d been like the rest! Poultices, elixirs, tonics and powders! Take this, rub this, brew this – Why couldn’t they just leave him alone?! Farah just wanted peace and no one was even trying to listen!

When he was done slamming the femur onto the table Farah instead tossed it at the door. It slammed into the weather wood before falling outside. Apparently, he hadn’t properly shut it before coming in for the night, but that wasn’t the surprising part. For a moment he stilled – breathing labored and tense – while his eyes adjusted to the package sitting alone in the dark. It was a little bundle, one that had been propped up against the door and when he got closer, he could tell it was wrapped in a pale, peachy cloth.

No one would have come to his island for a delivery. There wasn’t a soul in his village that hadn’t been scared off yet and beyond that, the walkway was often covered in water. It was only during special tides that Farah could even leave without a boat so....His blood chilled. “They’re not....” He looked down one end of the beach, then turned to look the other. How many times had his father told him his visions were just that? And yet....this was here. The only one who might have left it for him had been gone for years and as the paranoia started to rise Farah closed the door.

He pushed his table against it before decided to climb under the table and sit against the door himself. Whatever that was wasn’t real because it couldn’t be. He just...needed some sleep. Insomnia often made his ‘condition’ worse and once he slept it would just go away.

Except it didn’t.

In the morning the package was still there – still as wrapped as it had been the night prior. With a slow exhale Farah gingerly reached for it. He tugged the little thing inside before slowly opening it. Inside was a knitted coat – one light enough to wear on the beach but warm enough that the chill wouldn’t bother him. It was a riot of color with no discernable pattern, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. The long Farah held the coat the more it became a very real thing; meaning that someone had cared enough for him to leave it there. He had no idea who but...

Out there somewhere was someone who hadn’t wanted him to freeze. And that thought alone was enough to calm him.

[757]