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Entry tags:
- ! event log,
- ! special event,
- a discovery of witches: kit marlowe,
- detroit: become human: chloe,
- fargo: wes wrench,
- final fantasy: sephiroth,
- game of thrones: jon snow,
- locked tomb: harrowhark nonagesimus,
- marvel: david alleyne,
- marvel: jean-paul beaubier,
- marvel: logan,
- marvel: loki odinson,
- marvel: quentin quire,
- marvel: thor odinson,
- marvel: wade wilson,
- the 100: clarke griffin,
- uncharted: nathan drake
SPECIAL EVENT: The Flower Oracle
✖ Meet The Oracle
A low thrumming sound builds in the background noise of the raised village, starting so softly that it would be easy to mistake it for the ever present hummingbirds. It keeps building slowly, somehow managing to be both a sound and to bypass the ear as it hums in the bones. The local Temple Guardians bump heads and brush against each other, quietly affirming their bond as they divide their duties: one staying with the local Temple and the other winding through the paths of the village down to the bud of the Flower Oracle in its place of honor in the city center.
The villagers stop what they’re doing, not quite in a panic, but their speed is deliberate and definite. They gather things on their way, flower wreaths, fish, beautiful food, sharp knives, until everyone has something in their arms. There is an ecstatic tension in the air, after all, the time has come when these people will yet again see substantial proof of their god, and it seems they have forgotten all about the Travelers who might have joined them. There is plenty of room for everyone to gather in a circle around the green bud that has grown even larger.
The thrum rises until it is hard to breathe, until some of the structures around begin to groan in the onslaught, and then it stops, suddenly. In the vacuum of silence, there is a wet and meaty sound as the bud begins to open, a first hint of things that look like red lips and white teeth. A canny Traveler might be forgiven for running at that point. The visceral sound of the splitting, of this birthing, continues as the bud splits, then splits again as the four sepals fall open, exposing an inner surface that glistens red and is lined at the edges with white sharp growths that may be fangs. The villagers ignore the implicit threat. They have eyes only for the structure in the middle.
Who can blame them? Translucent petals form a breathing tower, curled tight and perfect as a seashell. A glow pulses like a heartbeat as the petals slowly unfurl, collapsing elegantly to reveal the Oracle and provide protection against the threat of the sepals. The Flower Oracle is beautiful, glowing, soft and round. She is initially surrounded by four guards, each masculine and clearly dangerous, but they move aside to leave a clear path. The villagers line up with their sacrifices, and there is ritual patience in the act. Everyone will have their time with the Oracle, and anyone must be allowed their time alone within the petals.
The villagers stop what they’re doing, not quite in a panic, but their speed is deliberate and definite. They gather things on their way, flower wreaths, fish, beautiful food, sharp knives, until everyone has something in their arms. There is an ecstatic tension in the air, after all, the time has come when these people will yet again see substantial proof of their god, and it seems they have forgotten all about the Travelers who might have joined them. There is plenty of room for everyone to gather in a circle around the green bud that has grown even larger.
The thrum rises until it is hard to breathe, until some of the structures around begin to groan in the onslaught, and then it stops, suddenly. In the vacuum of silence, there is a wet and meaty sound as the bud begins to open, a first hint of things that look like red lips and white teeth. A canny Traveler might be forgiven for running at that point. The visceral sound of the splitting, of this birthing, continues as the bud splits, then splits again as the four sepals fall open, exposing an inner surface that glistens red and is lined at the edges with white sharp growths that may be fangs. The villagers ignore the implicit threat. They have eyes only for the structure in the middle.
Who can blame them? Translucent petals form a breathing tower, curled tight and perfect as a seashell. A glow pulses like a heartbeat as the petals slowly unfurl, collapsing elegantly to reveal the Oracle and provide protection against the threat of the sepals. The Flower Oracle is beautiful, glowing, soft and round. She is initially surrounded by four guards, each masculine and clearly dangerous, but they move aside to leave a clear path. The villagers line up with their sacrifices, and there is ritual patience in the act. Everyone will have their time with the Oracle, and anyone must be allowed their time alone within the petals. Notes:
Characters who wish to approach the oracle need to respond to the thread titled ‘Meet the Oracle’. After they get their response, they can post a separate reaction thread to play out some of the consequences of the event.
Responses to the Oracle Thread should include: a short description of their IC reaction/actions, a description of what they bring for a sacrifice, and their question for the ancient. Villagers will have let them know that traditional options include: fish, flowers, art, blood, secrets, or memories. Characters/players may come up with their own sacrifices. Please include a note if the character helped decorate the local temple this month.
WARNING: Contacting the Oracle may result in negative IC results for characters, and there is a degree of randomness in how the mods assign results.
Sephiroth
Still, playing this little game is the first opportunity they've had to get anywhere near her. Whether it will enable him to learn anything real or useful about her, he doesn't know. It would be foolish to think he could ask the questions he most wants answered: For what purpose has she actually collected them? By what magic or technology did she bring them here? And, of course, how can they kill her?
But he can't ignore it. He isn't willing to sacrifice anything personal when this place keeps pulling things from him against his will, but... Flowers are a rarity in Midgar, and as abundant as they are here, the people seem to value them as much. He collects a variety of them, putting together an appropriately loud and chaotic bouquet. Some of them he thinks he recognizes from his world. A few he doesn't dislike.
The thrumming is unpleasant, but the blooming of the enormous bud puts him in mind of an ochu--a formidable enough monster, but only a monster. Sephiroth waits patiently, and when his turn comes, he approaches the Oracle with the careful pretense of respect and offers the flowers with both hands.
"...why has the Ancient brought so many here from Earth?"
no subject
Once the sacrifice is accepted, the pale eyes of the Oracle darken with channeled divinity. "Because She likes their stories," comes the answer, soft and rustling. The answer is simple and incomplete. Such is the risk of speaking with an Oracle, especially with murky intent. Her eyes pale again as Sephiroth is ushered on.