Samiakki's Amazing Summer Giveaway!
Many walk dangerous paths to be out in the unforgiving wild like this. The road was long and arduous, but you made a promise. Or made a deal. Or lost a bet. For whatever reason, you found yourself in an open field of freshly bloomed foliage, where the sunlight was unrestricted and coated your surface with warmth.
It was the summer solstice – the longest day of the year danced together with night until yielding. The warmth of the rising power of summer had pulled itself up over winter’s cliff and stared it in the eye. The grasp of ice on the land had melted well enough for the pleasant faces of flowers to show themselves. Swaths of them filled the field, painting the land like a sunrise. The star itself was being tugged upwards in the sky, where a hazy orange glow hung overhead.
Opposite to it, viewing his work, a giant earth spirit was seated in a clearing that was created by himself. The pastel ribbons of his antlers fluttered in the same wind that tussled his oak leaves for hair. His elk-like legs were crossed, himself the image of what a human might consider a satyr.
The Light That Gives also took. That was the nature of all beasts. And beasts were his domain, but perhaps he would be visited by something stranger today. He always welcomed new oddities – nature rarely produced sameness in everything. The speckles of every individual petal on a tiger lily, unique and sacred.
He smiles, peering towards the creature – or construct – before him. There’s joy in his eyes, perpetually amused by unspoken mirth. How funny life was.
”Come and sit, watcher,” the Summer King beckoned, voice rumbling the earth with gentleness. At sixty feet tall, he yet posed no threat. ”Thou hast stepped into mine garden for a reason, no? If there is none, allow myself to give thee one. A trade, if thou wouldst have it.
”Relinquish upon me a personal effect that burdens thine growth. Be generous, watcher, for I will help thou grow.” The intense gaze that he had, at once, disappeared, now lighting up into the face of laughter. ”Ahaha! Or dost not! Keep it and speak instead of how thou hast grown in place of mine assistance. It matters little to me. For each way, thou shalt receive a blessing most gracious. So, speak up now! Extend thine hands. They wilt only be met with the bounty of summer.”
It was the summer solstice – the longest day of the year danced together with night until yielding. The warmth of the rising power of summer had pulled itself up over winter’s cliff and stared it in the eye. The grasp of ice on the land had melted well enough for the pleasant faces of flowers to show themselves. Swaths of them filled the field, painting the land like a sunrise. The star itself was being tugged upwards in the sky, where a hazy orange glow hung overhead.
Opposite to it, viewing his work, a giant earth spirit was seated in a clearing that was created by himself. The pastel ribbons of his antlers fluttered in the same wind that tussled his oak leaves for hair. His elk-like legs were crossed, himself the image of what a human might consider a satyr.
The Light That Gives also took. That was the nature of all beasts. And beasts were his domain, but perhaps he would be visited by something stranger today. He always welcomed new oddities – nature rarely produced sameness in everything. The speckles of every individual petal on a tiger lily, unique and sacred.
He smiles, peering towards the creature – or construct – before him. There’s joy in his eyes, perpetually amused by unspoken mirth. How funny life was.
”Come and sit, watcher,” the Summer King beckoned, voice rumbling the earth with gentleness. At sixty feet tall, he yet posed no threat. ”Thou hast stepped into mine garden for a reason, no? If there is none, allow myself to give thee one. A trade, if thou wouldst have it.
”Relinquish upon me a personal effect that burdens thine growth. Be generous, watcher, for I will help thou grow.” The intense gaze that he had, at once, disappeared, now lighting up into the face of laughter. ”Ahaha! Or dost not! Keep it and speak instead of how thou hast grown in place of mine assistance. It matters little to me. For each way, thou shalt receive a blessing most gracious. So, speak up now! Extend thine hands. They wilt only be met with the bounty of summer.”
Hi! Welcome to the Summer King Samhra’s little (big) patch of posies! This is one of the seasonal raffles/giveaways I host every year, starring the embodiments of summer and winter. . . and your character!
I have a bunch of goodies to share this time around! Some of them have the potential to be very rare. What kind of goodies, you may ask? Allow me to give some examples!
- Pets!
- Cloaks that give character slots!
- An Oil of Epicness!
- . . . and much more!
Presents Left: 6RULES
1) Use a character to give an offering to King Samhra; either an object that impedes their growth or a story of how they’ve grown themselves. Posts can be as long or as short as you like! User accounts and anonymous characters are NOT allowed and will NOT receive presents.
2) Characters of all genres are allowed! Canons are allowed as well.
3) One gift per person! Giveaway starts NOW and gifts will be sent out on June 30th. Giveaway officially ends either on that day or when I run out of presents to give, thus I will have the thread marked as [Closed].
4) Last rule! While you're welcome to trade away received presents, please do not use this thread to do so. And please do not complain about what you have received from your present box!
Happy Summer Solstice and Pride Month!
Silently floating just a few inches off the ground, Leaves’ cloak flutters in the breeze as she gazes up at the being who towers above her little puppet. The expressionless mask shrouds her face as the synthetic being slowly lifts and lowers her head, appraising the Summer King and his words.
Her voice comes gently. “…A weight at my ankles, or a tale of one I have shed before?” Slowly, with an erratic twitch, Leaves glances towards herself. Upon the rough orange fabric of her cloak, sits a few rings of sparsely decorated necklaces. White and black fragments shimmer in the light, the string binding them tightly.
The Great Processor tucks her legs in, lowering down towards the ground – yet without touching it. A quiet, thoughtful hum escapes her. “Living for so long, the troubles that drag behind me are... uncountable? But there is one, one I believe I can – I must – part with.”
A pointed finger gently prods at one of the colorless shards lying upon her cloak. “A hope. A promise?” Leaves pinches the tip of one of the fragments, lifting it up as she stares at it. “This… memocryst holds some of the last known messages from my benefactors. My creators.” The construct's plastic hand grips around the little rock, before resting the other hand over her fist. “…Before they went silent. Long have I been clinging to the hope they would, perhaps, return someday…"
With a moment of consideration, Leaves looks up towards the spirit towering above. “…But that hope has now been gnawing at me far too much. I have been doing little without their instruction... but… my garden has been withering without my hand to guide it.”
As a stray gust of wind blows the fibers of her hair aside, she glances side-to-side at the lush vegetation around them. With what sounds like a sigh, she pulls the shard from her necklace with a little snap. “Take it.” Leaves states firmly as she extends her hand, opening her palm to offer up the memocryst. “I have better things to cherish.”
Her voice comes gently. “…A weight at my ankles, or a tale of one I have shed before?” Slowly, with an erratic twitch, Leaves glances towards herself. Upon the rough orange fabric of her cloak, sits a few rings of sparsely decorated necklaces. White and black fragments shimmer in the light, the string binding them tightly.
The Great Processor tucks her legs in, lowering down towards the ground – yet without touching it. A quiet, thoughtful hum escapes her. “Living for so long, the troubles that drag behind me are... uncountable? But there is one, one I believe I can – I must – part with.”
A pointed finger gently prods at one of the colorless shards lying upon her cloak. “A hope. A promise?” Leaves pinches the tip of one of the fragments, lifting it up as she stares at it. “This… memocryst holds some of the last known messages from my benefactors. My creators.” The construct's plastic hand grips around the little rock, before resting the other hand over her fist. “…Before they went silent. Long have I been clinging to the hope they would, perhaps, return someday…"
With a moment of consideration, Leaves looks up towards the spirit towering above. “…But that hope has now been gnawing at me far too much. I have been doing little without their instruction... but… my garden has been withering without my hand to guide it.”
As a stray gust of wind blows the fibers of her hair aside, she glances side-to-side at the lush vegetation around them. With what sounds like a sigh, she pulls the shard from her necklace with a little snap. “Take it.” Leaves states firmly as she extends her hand, opening her palm to offer up the memocryst. “I have better things to cherish.”
HowNowBrownCow has been entered into the giveaway!
The Summer King sees all leaves as they descend. Even the most succulent fruit must fall when ripened, but they serve a purpose yet. They, too, are blessed as Leaves is now.
The Summer King sees all leaves as they descend. Even the most succulent fruit must fall when ripened, but they serve a purpose yet. They, too, are blessed as Leaves is now.
We are a little less than 4 days to the end of the giveaway! Come get a present! All you have to do is reply to the writing prompt in the starting post!
Litha was the time of budding power for the Dokkalfar, a time where these capricious little fae advanced in strength all the way to the zenith of Samhain, turning with the wheel of the year just as their opposites did. Valeriu should have been back home, within the comfort of the lush Sidhe, the 'Land of Endless Summer', feasting, drinking, making merry in only the way Unseelie could...In pure rapacious passion.
Yet, here he was, wandering the the depths wilderness. Unaware of where he went. Uncaring, perhaps.
He was outcast, in a way, an exile imposed upon himself as he ran and ran from those who longed to posses him...no, not him, not exactly, but the power lingering deep within. Intent to use it for their own, the Wild Hunt pursued him from kingdom to kingdom, land to land, world to world, and back around again. As he ran, he brought chaos and strife to all those in his wake, and still his ran. He could not bring himself to face the endless hordes of those who were once his dearest kin, could not look them in the eyes, could not return to their waiting arms. And so, the former Archmage was trapped in an endless dance of prey and predator.
In these heavy, humid summer days, Vali found himself yet again wandering within an odd place. Somewhere none of own kin ever stepped foot before, he was perhaps the first. Among the flower strewn valleys and cliffs, the fae found a winding pathway that lead up a cliff face, overlooking the windswept fields below. He didn't know where he was going, what he was doing -- as per usual, but he followed the path. Driven by an unseen and unheard force, until he came to the precipice, greeted by a spirit of earth. Valeriu was no stranger to dealings with spirits, those of the trees and the water and fire, but he always reacted intensely to their presence. He could see this one clearly, a robust, antlered being, reminiscent of a what a king of goats and mountains might look like, in Vali's opinion.
He stared, awestruck, until the King of Summer finally spoke, beckoning him to give so that he may receive So, this is why the wind had carried him here, why the fires crackled and bent incessantly northward, why the spirits of the trees pointed him to this place, so deep in the wilds.
The fae bowed his head, reaching into his enchanted bag. He didn't need to rummage, he knew exactly where it was. He buried it deep down, tried to forget about what it represented. He hesitated for a moment, before producing a box, containing a set of manacles. The chains were insultingly gilded and ornate for their intended purpose, sumptuously plated in gold and copper to hide the core of iron underneath, with sigils of containment and magical dampening and ownership carved into them. They were broken in half, the chains apparently unable to contain the fiery fae forever. Yet he still kept them with him.
For what reason? They were broken. They could not bind him anymore. And yet he still felt caged. His body was free, he was finally unbound from his former master, but his mind and soul were still not his own. The cage door was open, but he could not fly free.
With shaking hands, he extended out the open box, his eyes wild, quivering, as if he wanted to snatch it back at any moment. There was obviously still some attachment there, to his old life, even if he reviled it so. And fear for what might come, without the security of a master. "These chains are a reminder of a life I left behind a long time ago, tore myself from and never looked back...or so I thought I did. I was born a slave, but now I live as a freedman, and it's the hardest thing I've ever had to learn," He admitted, his voice usually so firm, now cracking under the weight of what he asked for. Some sort of absolution. Something he'd asked many times, from spirits such as King Samhra.
"I don't want to go back, I confess I let illusions fester in my head, but I would never go back. Please, take these, despite the horror they represent. Take them away from me, please."
(Well that was surprisingly angsty
I hope you enjoy reading it and thanks for hosting this, it was a fun writing exercise 
)
Yet, here he was, wandering the the depths wilderness. Unaware of where he went. Uncaring, perhaps.
He was outcast, in a way, an exile imposed upon himself as he ran and ran from those who longed to posses him...no, not him, not exactly, but the power lingering deep within. Intent to use it for their own, the Wild Hunt pursued him from kingdom to kingdom, land to land, world to world, and back around again. As he ran, he brought chaos and strife to all those in his wake, and still his ran. He could not bring himself to face the endless hordes of those who were once his dearest kin, could not look them in the eyes, could not return to their waiting arms. And so, the former Archmage was trapped in an endless dance of prey and predator.
In these heavy, humid summer days, Vali found himself yet again wandering within an odd place. Somewhere none of own kin ever stepped foot before, he was perhaps the first. Among the flower strewn valleys and cliffs, the fae found a winding pathway that lead up a cliff face, overlooking the windswept fields below. He didn't know where he was going, what he was doing -- as per usual, but he followed the path. Driven by an unseen and unheard force, until he came to the precipice, greeted by a spirit of earth. Valeriu was no stranger to dealings with spirits, those of the trees and the water and fire, but he always reacted intensely to their presence. He could see this one clearly, a robust, antlered being, reminiscent of a what a king of goats and mountains might look like, in Vali's opinion.
He stared, awestruck, until the King of Summer finally spoke, beckoning him to give so that he may receive So, this is why the wind had carried him here, why the fires crackled and bent incessantly northward, why the spirits of the trees pointed him to this place, so deep in the wilds.
The fae bowed his head, reaching into his enchanted bag. He didn't need to rummage, he knew exactly where it was. He buried it deep down, tried to forget about what it represented. He hesitated for a moment, before producing a box, containing a set of manacles. The chains were insultingly gilded and ornate for their intended purpose, sumptuously plated in gold and copper to hide the core of iron underneath, with sigils of containment and magical dampening and ownership carved into them. They were broken in half, the chains apparently unable to contain the fiery fae forever. Yet he still kept them with him.
For what reason? They were broken. They could not bind him anymore. And yet he still felt caged. His body was free, he was finally unbound from his former master, but his mind and soul were still not his own. The cage door was open, but he could not fly free.
With shaking hands, he extended out the open box, his eyes wild, quivering, as if he wanted to snatch it back at any moment. There was obviously still some attachment there, to his old life, even if he reviled it so. And fear for what might come, without the security of a master. "These chains are a reminder of a life I left behind a long time ago, tore myself from and never looked back...or so I thought I did. I was born a slave, but now I live as a freedman, and it's the hardest thing I've ever had to learn," He admitted, his voice usually so firm, now cracking under the weight of what he asked for. Some sort of absolution. Something he'd asked many times, from spirits such as King Samhra.
"I don't want to go back, I confess I let illusions fester in my head, but I would never go back. Please, take these, despite the horror they represent. Take them away from me, please."
(Well that was surprisingly angsty
I hope you enjoy reading it and thanks for hosting this, it was a fun writing exercise )
magioffire is now entered into the giveaway!
The Summer King blesses Valeriu, that he might rise from the dirt he was buried in. Free to grow unrestrained by tempered ores.
The Summer King blesses Valeriu, that he might rise from the dirt he was buried in. Free to grow unrestrained by tempered ores.
(Emily Bonham, Page 3)
She had recorded many sights in the span of her memory files that other artificial constructs such as her wouldn't even dream existed. But scenarios like the one that opened before Emily's optics never failed to leave her awestruck.
She took in the surroundings, the flowers blooming strong and vivid like as many patches of colours under the sun's beams. And the incredible creature towering over that landscape of color and summer glory, the quiet rumble of its voice, the overpowering sense of being welcome that didn't alert a single danger subroutine.
The only word that could come to her mind in that moment was "peace".
She tilted her head, listened attentively as the King spoke of growth. A familiar subject on which her logical circuits - her thoughts - had often revolved. Emily was not prone to believe in coincidence, and she didn't think for a minute that her presence here was justa whim of fate. No, there were reasons - trails of cause and effect, some of them so subtle that humans (and sometimes non-humans like her) could barely make them out.
But in her case...
She smiled, a mix of tenderness, wistfulness and old wisdom. "There are people who think to this day that those like me - the artificial, the constructs - can never grow beyond what they are. All that we are is all that we will ever be." She drew a deep sigh. "But if there's one thing my life has taught me, it's that with every breath we take, with every new memory file we form, we keep changing, learning, and growing." She was empty-handed, but she knelt in the grass, her eyes taking in the plants, the flowers, the leaf stalks. Now and then she'd reach out, collect a wilted leaf, a dropped petal, a snapped branch. And she collected them, pensively, attentively, as she spoke.
"When I started off, there was not knowing. Not a purpose, Not a paste. Only a fragile connection - a man - but, for some reason, it was as if our tether grew feebler by the day. I tried, and I'm sure, in his way, he did too... but it was not meant to be. And one day he just grew tired of trying." Her hands were surprisngly firm as she continued to preen the flowers, thicket and flowerbeds that were near her, with the attentiveness of a master gardener and the grace of a lady. "I thought that was all there would ever be... but life proved me wrong, and the next thing I knew, I was alive again." Her smile now turned more wistful. "And in many ways it was more.... real, this round. Brighter. More colorful. Like your reign, good King." She looked up and up and up, meeting Samhra's immensely older eyes with her own. "For the first time I knew what it was like... to dream, to love, to wish. But when that short season of happiness ended..." She linked, "... what came next in here", one graceful hand rose to her chest, on the left side, "was barren, and cold, and felt like death. And it did hinder my recalling that brief season of happiness... because I was seeing it through the lens of hate." The years of war, the years of fight, the years in which she had sometimes been tempted to become just a mindless machine like the world seemed to see her, like Demetrio had seen her.
"But even then... light could find its way through the frozen ground, and warm the seeds of hope." There had been moments of fleeting intimacy where her heart had felt something for Maelstrom, her rescuer, her combat lover of years ago. Not as deep and meaningful as the love for Demetrio had been. Not warm enough to cauterize the wounds of betrayal. But it had been there. It had kept her alive - the human part of her, amusing as it might sound to hear a robot say that. "And afterwards, I found my life was changing again." With the Defiants. With Cris. "And again." On Earth, with James, with people who didn't look at her and flinch or wish to have her terminated. "And yet again." With Carlotta... her artificial tearducts brimmed with tears as she remembered the rush of triumph, the relief of finding her od friend still alive, still breathing, still her. "And through all that, I wasn't just changing. I was growing."
As had the bouquet of stilted leaves, dried flowers and branches in her lap; now it looked like the faded replica of a bride's flower bunch. Like the wilted flowers Emily had carried with her for so many years, reminding her of her broken heart and of her suffering, before-- "I left things behind. Not memories - those are forever burned in my circuits." She reached out and gently tapped her forehead. "Artificial memory files. I can't forget." Her smile turned slightly warmed. "But I can learn. I can move past. And that's what I've done. That's why I chose to be with my heart's family", Cris, her children, Carlotta, her nest, the people she loved with all of herself, "and I wasn't afraid to stand by that chance even when it costed me. Because I've learned to let go of the past, and grow stronger roots from old wounds."
Soundlessly, she got to her feet, picked up the bouquet she had collected, and after a moment's thought, handed it solemnly toward Samhra. "As a memento of my story, if you will have it, gentle King", she said, and bowed her head in respect.
She had recorded many sights in the span of her memory files that other artificial constructs such as her wouldn't even dream existed. But scenarios like the one that opened before Emily's optics never failed to leave her awestruck.
She took in the surroundings, the flowers blooming strong and vivid like as many patches of colours under the sun's beams. And the incredible creature towering over that landscape of color and summer glory, the quiet rumble of its voice, the overpowering sense of being welcome that didn't alert a single danger subroutine.
The only word that could come to her mind in that moment was "peace".
She tilted her head, listened attentively as the King spoke of growth. A familiar subject on which her logical circuits - her thoughts - had often revolved. Emily was not prone to believe in coincidence, and she didn't think for a minute that her presence here was justa whim of fate. No, there were reasons - trails of cause and effect, some of them so subtle that humans (and sometimes non-humans like her) could barely make them out.
But in her case...
She smiled, a mix of tenderness, wistfulness and old wisdom. "There are people who think to this day that those like me - the artificial, the constructs - can never grow beyond what they are. All that we are is all that we will ever be." She drew a deep sigh. "But if there's one thing my life has taught me, it's that with every breath we take, with every new memory file we form, we keep changing, learning, and growing." She was empty-handed, but she knelt in the grass, her eyes taking in the plants, the flowers, the leaf stalks. Now and then she'd reach out, collect a wilted leaf, a dropped petal, a snapped branch. And she collected them, pensively, attentively, as she spoke.
"When I started off, there was not knowing. Not a purpose, Not a paste. Only a fragile connection - a man - but, for some reason, it was as if our tether grew feebler by the day. I tried, and I'm sure, in his way, he did too... but it was not meant to be. And one day he just grew tired of trying." Her hands were surprisngly firm as she continued to preen the flowers, thicket and flowerbeds that were near her, with the attentiveness of a master gardener and the grace of a lady. "I thought that was all there would ever be... but life proved me wrong, and the next thing I knew, I was alive again." Her smile now turned more wistful. "And in many ways it was more.... real, this round. Brighter. More colorful. Like your reign, good King." She looked up and up and up, meeting Samhra's immensely older eyes with her own. "For the first time I knew what it was like... to dream, to love, to wish. But when that short season of happiness ended..." She linked, "... what came next in here", one graceful hand rose to her chest, on the left side, "was barren, and cold, and felt like death. And it did hinder my recalling that brief season of happiness... because I was seeing it through the lens of hate." The years of war, the years of fight, the years in which she had sometimes been tempted to become just a mindless machine like the world seemed to see her, like Demetrio had seen her.
"But even then... light could find its way through the frozen ground, and warm the seeds of hope." There had been moments of fleeting intimacy where her heart had felt something for Maelstrom, her rescuer, her combat lover of years ago. Not as deep and meaningful as the love for Demetrio had been. Not warm enough to cauterize the wounds of betrayal. But it had been there. It had kept her alive - the human part of her, amusing as it might sound to hear a robot say that. "And afterwards, I found my life was changing again." With the Defiants. With Cris. "And again." On Earth, with James, with people who didn't look at her and flinch or wish to have her terminated. "And yet again." With Carlotta... her artificial tearducts brimmed with tears as she remembered the rush of triumph, the relief of finding her od friend still alive, still breathing, still her. "And through all that, I wasn't just changing. I was growing."
As had the bouquet of stilted leaves, dried flowers and branches in her lap; now it looked like the faded replica of a bride's flower bunch. Like the wilted flowers Emily had carried with her for so many years, reminding her of her broken heart and of her suffering, before-- "I left things behind. Not memories - those are forever burned in my circuits." She reached out and gently tapped her forehead. "Artificial memory files. I can't forget." Her smile turned slightly warmed. "But I can learn. I can move past. And that's what I've done. That's why I chose to be with my heart's family", Cris, her children, Carlotta, her nest, the people she loved with all of herself, "and I wasn't afraid to stand by that chance even when it costed me. Because I've learned to let go of the past, and grow stronger roots from old wounds."
Soundlessly, she got to her feet, picked up the bouquet she had collected, and after a moment's thought, handed it solemnly toward Samhra. "As a memento of my story, if you will have it, gentle King", she said, and bowed her head in respect.
cri86titanium has been entered into the giveaway!
Though his subjects scorn those built instead of birthed; the Summer King sees a mind, not a body. For even stones give homes to denizens of the forest floor, as Emily had given and received of her own family - her own of her choosing. For this, The Light That Gives blesses her.
Only one day left in the giveaway! Presents go out tomorrow after 12 AM EST, so act fast if you want one!
Though his subjects scorn those built instead of birthed; the Summer King sees a mind, not a body. For even stones give homes to denizens of the forest floor, as Emily had given and received of her own family - her own of her choosing. For this, The Light That Gives blesses her.
Only one day left in the giveaway! Presents go out tomorrow after 12 AM EST, so act fast if you want one!
Scott probably wasn't in the best of places in his head when he and Summer walked through the field of grass together hand-in-hand. They had earlier stepped through a windowpane and were now journeying on the other side together.
"I can feel changes here." Scott said, his words reverberating. Summer laughed in reverberation and agreed with him, and though the drops of a summer raincloud fell over them, Scott saw and heard the words ...
The dreamy words echoed as the rain had turned into colored beads falling around them, to be lit by the sun that burst forth.... "I wish naught from you though I may regret this decision."
Scott reached into his pocket and took out something that he had carried with him since his first deployment overseas. He looked at it; flipped it open and sparked the flint a couple times before a flame appeared steady; started into the flame and tilted his head before feeling Summer's caring hand on his back. her other hand came to rest on his arm, and Scott flipped the top shut, extinguishing the flame.
"Take this! I must leave it with you, for though it is dear to me, it also carries much burden and is a source of pain for me. I have seen, and done things I will not speak of, but i feel that by giving this gist to you, I can walk away and it will help close a big door on a part of my life that haunts me to this day." Scott set it upon a rock that was flat on top but was like a glistening shard that had lifted up from the ground. His hand hesitated to part from it, but with a gasp of breath, Scott released it and turned away and took several steps before pausing.
"I feel lighter already..." he said to Summer as he turned around. She had remained standing and staring at the entity...
"I can feel changes here." Scott said, his words reverberating. Summer laughed in reverberation and agreed with him, and though the drops of a summer raincloud fell over them, Scott saw and heard the words ...
”Come and sit, watcher. Thou hast stepped into mine garden for a reason, no? If there is none, allow myself to give thee one. A trade, if thou wouldst have it. Relinquish upon me a personal effect that burdens thine growth. Be generous, watcher, for I will help thou grow.... Or dost not! Keep it and speak instead of how thou hast grown in place of mine assistance. It matters little to me. For each way, thou shalt receive a blessing most gracious. So, speak up now! Extend thine hands. They wilt only be met with the bounty of summer.”
The dreamy words echoed as the rain had turned into colored beads falling around them, to be lit by the sun that burst forth.... "I wish naught from you though I may regret this decision."Scott reached into his pocket and took out something that he had carried with him since his first deployment overseas. He looked at it; flipped it open and sparked the flint a couple times before a flame appeared steady; started into the flame and tilted his head before feeling Summer's caring hand on his back. her other hand came to rest on his arm, and Scott flipped the top shut, extinguishing the flame.
"Take this! I must leave it with you, for though it is dear to me, it also carries much burden and is a source of pain for me. I have seen, and done things I will not speak of, but i feel that by giving this gist to you, I can walk away and it will help close a big door on a part of my life that haunts me to this day." Scott set it upon a rock that was flat on top but was like a glistening shard that had lifted up from the ground. His hand hesitated to part from it, but with a gasp of breath, Scott released it and turned away and took several steps before pausing.
"I feel lighter already..." he said to Summer as he turned around. She had remained standing and staring at the entity...
Blues-Guy is entered into the giveaway!
All that takes gives. All that gives is taken from. The cycle is never-ending, a dirty and visceral ritual. Though it may ever be one devoid of forgiveness, the Summer King knows mercy. He blesses Scott thusly.
All that takes gives. All that gives is taken from. The cycle is never-ending, a dirty and visceral ritual. Though it may ever be one devoid of forgiveness, the Summer King knows mercy. He blesses Scott thusly.
That concludes the giveaway!
Thank you so much to HowNowBrownCow, magioffire, cri86titanium, and Blues-Guy for participating! Check your inboxes and inventories when you're able!
Have a happy summer, everyone! Enjoy!
Thank you so much to HowNowBrownCow, magioffire, cri86titanium, and Blues-Guy for participating! Check your inboxes and inventories when you're able!
Have a happy summer, everyone! Enjoy!
Wooot thank you so much!! The prize is AWESOME abd this was so much fun to write! Your giveaways are always a treat! 😍
cri86titanium wrote:
Wooot thank you so much!! The prize is AWESOME abd this was so much fun to write! Your giveaways are always a treat! 😍
I'm so glad you enjoyed it! It was a delight to read everyone's posts.
Agreed! I had a ball writing my post and reading everyone else's. Thank you!
Samiakki wrote:
Thank you so much to HowNowBrownCow, magioffire, cri86titanium, and Blues-Guy for participating! Check your inboxes and inventories when you're able!
Have a happy summer, everyone! Enjoy!
Have a happy summer, everyone! Enjoy!
Thank you for hosting such a creative event, and for the generous prize! I only entered at the last minute as I was writing a section of Scott's character story with Summer and she suggested the scene may fit into what you were asking for.
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