wrote:name:
There is a pool of water, deep and still, and in this lonely land the shores are coarse, but the water is soft. Above there is a distant and cold sun, the promise of light, but it feels dizzying and strange. To look too long invites madness.

The air feels like poison, each breath a torture.

In the deep of the water is a comfort.

The darkness holds its own promises.

Far from that sun is a nether world.

Further, further down.

Into the below. The underneath.

Down.

Down.

Drown.

Old and hidden secrets coil their inky tendrils. No light, no breath, no senses. Only hunger is left. The world above laid bare. Knowledge gained only in the dark.

wrote: Follow the Light and Charm

Spoiler

wrote:RP LOG
Dandelion Dreams
Relax a little.
Interloper
Capturing Motes in the Steals Fire ORP

wrote:name:
In the early spring, the butterflies were moving, and the forests were so thick with them that every tree looked alive, and you could hardly walk on the ground without treading on tired and sluggish travelers, unfolding like flowers to bask and recover in the sun when the weather was fair.

A new Totoma had arrived in the tribe, appearing with the weather and the butterflies, and they promised ease and prosperity. With charm and wit, they accumulated a following. Many of their words were new and pleasant. They talked of being together always. They talked of  another distant and beautiful land, beyond the swamp. They claimed the land was full of Sunlight. They claimed that you must die to be carried there. They talked of how difficult it was to arrive, that only the most faithful could see such a place. They did not talk about where they had come from, or what had become of their old tribe or friends.

It was another Totoma, unsure, who one day noticed a group of butterflies swarm into a ball, so tightly together that they became dark, not resting but spinning and spinning in a maddening wind, so much that they looked like a single lurching creature, and without warning the hulking mass twisted itself not towards the Sun, but into an open fire.

The event pressed heavily on his mind, and he could not help but see it as a sign of their own danger and impending doom. Armed with dread, he shared the Sign of the False Sun with any who would listen.
Like waking sleepers, the tribe began to realize the danger that they had fallen into. Together, they drove the stranger from their lands, but the stranger took with him a handful of his closest followers. The butterflies and their loved ones seemed to disappear at once, and the trees and ground felt empty and quiet.

Later on patrol beyond their regular borders, they discovered a field of flowers, and in it the remains of those who had gone with the stranger. These bodies, at least, they could return to the swamp. But the stranger's body was not with them.

For his part in the events of that spring, the Totoma received his Name, False Sun, to honor his instincts and in memorial to those lost.