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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.
James 'Logan' Howlett
Having spent a great deal of this month adorning the temple with intricate wagara patterns he hasn't realized it if he's inadvertently stumbled into appeasing whatever force governs this place.
Never the type to overvalue either material things or what he knows, his sacrifice is practical, readily accessible and about the most valuable thing he's ever had to offer anyone — his blood of course. The sacrament of his own biological mixed blessing.
"Just one eh?" He rubs the back of his neck trying to think practically about this. What would it serve anyone here to ask something about himself? He looks at the coloured light of his Scrywatch a moment and wonders if maybe questions about himself aren't all so removed from understanding this place.
"Do gods like you approve of good things because they're good, or are good things good because the gods approve?" he asks, but the more he thinks about his question the more he already feels like he's wasted it. "Maybe I'm just looking for grace for those of us who tend to do wrong so other folks won't have to."
no subject
The crystalline structure blushes pink as they take the blood, though there is no sign that it means more or less to than any other offering of pain and self. There is, however, a soft sigh and a darkening of the Oracle's eyes as the Ancient's power focuses once more. Logan is one of the few on the island that might learn from the smell of that breath that there is nothing animal to this being and the Flower Oracle is more than a name. But then the moment is wrought and the smell of flowers is everywhere, even from the blooms woven in her skirts.
By the grace of his meditative work and decoration of the temple, the Oracle answers in her voice of rustling leaves. "You were not have been brought here only to be forsaken. You will be challenged by the journey and to find a way to exist without always sacrificing or harming yourself."
Her eyes lighten slowly as the Ancient's presence leaves.