tall tale : storytelling session

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  • Tongues of ancient ghosts and new time adventurers, blistered by the heat of too many wars or smooth from purity left unscathed, each bled stories a different river which all connected to one giant sea of whole. Grandparents that spoke of golden and dark ages that passed before their wisen eyes, nervous explorers who encountered their first beast to live and tell the tale, truths warped in extreme exaggeration by imaginative youths who longed for action packed adventures. Multitude of viewpoints unique there was no room for one decisive tale of absolute truth. Storytelling a favorite pastime by any and all airy daydreamers or battle worn veterans that trekked across the land of the living listened in enjoyment. Recherchรจ grasped his assigned task light by the tender touch of rosebud finger tips, careful in his mission to strip the contents before it got pieced back together, self reassured there was no reason for fear to fester within golden heart.


    These hands never clenched tight fists where gaping wounds painted knuckles deep red, strangled the final breath from burning lungs in dire need of oxygen, inhaled a victim's first last breath after dirty nails ripped life out of their dying body. Untouched by a day's honest work to keep a family alive, wars yet to face that wait to feast upon innocent flesh, walls never punched in boiling rage at the injustice inflicted upon one's self and loved ones. Tragedies formed by heavy tales of woe have yet to grace on pale contours of his slender face, for he gave a star bright smile paired with warm honey poured in smooth milk that soothed a delicate throat and opalescent eyes to reflect childlike wonderโ€“ fresh meat available for the beasts hidden in the dark crevices. But dainty hands could offer gentle caresses in silent assurance, sweetly murmur encouragement about better days ahead, a promise to be the rock to lean on in desperate times.


    So he'll spin silks of gold and ivory for his stories, dramatics inessential in the eyes of a found youth, he has no reason to make it black and blue.


    Time ticked by at its usual pace whilst Recherchรจ planned out his task, short legs scurried across yellow grass of these peaceful meadow lands dotted in vibrant flora, intent on a somewhat pleasurable experience. Life doesn't guarantee the mood will remain light and pleasant, storm clouds were bound to roll in at any time, thunderous in their quiet rumble of rage and flash of lightning blinding in its strike against the ground. After all, the sun always shines again amidst the darkness, he'll make sure of it. Woolly blankets lay above rolling grass stroked by a warm breath by the lazy winds of summer, a designated area on the open fields where the exchange of tales would commence, a little get together to create new ties and forge stronger bonds.


    Pink toes were nipped by nervous energy that fueled a confused mixture of excitement and nausea, quiet suck in of air through lips that filtered past pearly whites, his steps hesitant in their approach towards the buzzing crowd of his fellow Sanctuarians. Eyes soak in the bodies mingle in their daily lives, silent in his search for faces familiar in a sense of names either known or some recognition of seeing them before. There's the expanding of fragile chest in preparation of his speech, exhalation effortless in its trickle through needle teeth past satin lips, softly the words emerge in the lively atmosphere. "Excusez-moi, if I could have your attention, I'm holding a storytelling session over at the blankets. If anyone wants to share, that is," fine silk brushed across the skin, a choice given for all to participate, added in a tidbit after a few heartbeats later. "They can be something that happened to you or completely made up."

  • THIS WORLD IS A PLACE WHERE THE VILLAINS WEAR A SMILE ON THIER FACE

    WHILE THEY TAKE WHAT YOU CAN NEVER REPLACE

    Storytelling...There was alot of stories they could have shared after all they had lived for a very long time. Catsune's had a very long lifespan at least from thier spiece side. However even if it was alot they could have shared about had no such interest to share any of it. Fallengrace had always been like that quite secretive when it come to thier backstory and intentions, not even thier own siblings know about the life they had lived since leaving the Korin empire behind. Most of it hadn't been pretty. Even if they had no interest to take part in this though wouldn't let thier gaze of from the child they had taken in for just some few days ago. Already he was growing in this place, interacting alot with others and had a heart made of gold completely unruined despite how his life had started out to be. Left to defend himself and still being so open and outgoing it was like watching thier own child growing getting out from thier shield and joining the society. It was good process this far and it was a relife to see how well they where adapting to thier new life-style.


    The cheekalh was keeping thier distance though laying in the shadows a bit away to simple observe and watch over as the child was being social with everyone around them, to full fill the weekly task Chicagocrimes had given to them. Oh, Cher would blossom here to grow and would even become someone here they where sure of and Fallengrace would be there every step on the way to make sure they did so safely that thier life would be as safe they possible could make it to be.

  • TAGS. stories. everyone's got one, fictive or genuine, adventures wanderlusting and true, tall and amusing. the words poor either stuttery, honest truth, the nerves frayed and uncertainty lingering, or with whimsical tone taking flight, emotion steadfast and dear, telling, hooking whipping past lips at eager pace. when call takes to air, drips free from the tongue of a boy little and angelic, holy grace lulled into blood pumped veins, ambrosia of the gods taking to his lips, does she perk up. the rest of little group absent, lacking even, the woman comes forth with wandering eyes and neutral expression falling upon features ambered and sharp. she comes to settle upon the blankets laid out, the wool but comforting gesture as wind pours past, stealing the grass with it. "'m game. so what, are we gonna like . . . sit in a circle an' take turns?" the woman asks, glancing toward the child with single brow lifted heavenward.

  • โœง โ€” Linc's head was full of stories. He supposed everyone's was, real or otherwise, since everyone's paths lead them in such different winding directions, or whatever. He did know however that he had a lot of stories to tell. He took a seat nearby on the soft blankets and didn't say anything yet, instead waiting for a response to Chicagocrimes' question.

  • Come forth do they like moths to a burning flame, not a massive crowd where numbers could overwhelm, just enough for a few tales to spew out of different lips. First of the faces belonged that to the once queen of these flora dotted meadow lands, beast of hot amber and paling lavender, took a spot on one of several wool blanket strewn on the yellowed grass, easy in her agreement which morphed into a simple question of what might commence. "Oui, not particularly sit in a circle, but we will be taking turns," warm breeze through the hair, a small pause taken at the arrival of another to the scene. Attention was quick on its mission to land his eyes on Linc, memory of the returnee fresh within young mind, short inclination of head topped by curves of lips in a pleasant smile in an unspoken greeting. "Would one of you like to take the lead or shall I?" An odd query it may have been to let linger in the flora aroma filled air, yet who's he to deny another if they're eager to share their story first?

  • TAGS. cher's words curl around her ear soft and light, airy in cadence like breath of wind to lap past fur. peaceful. her gaze flicks toward that of lincoln too, as the boy comes forth, memories winding through the curve of thoughts again, but briefer this time, more fleeting this time. she looks away, toward cher as little boy speaks once more.


    who should start?


    she mulls on thoughts for but half of second, not needing to search for story as her lips already find themselves prying open, words spilling out freely in lye of question, an affirmation from that of little audience. "well . . . he- eck. i guess i can tell you lot about th' three way war th' sanctuary had a long, long time ago, if you all want?"

  • silence settled over the trio after the airy query entered the warm air if for a moment, not too long after does chicagorcrimes allow her voice to rise, a slight stutter in speech at the beginning. a curse bathed the tip of a sharp tongue, ready to jump out at a moment's notice, yet denied in the seconds to come. curious the mention of a three way war the sanctuary participated in, for such events weren't too common these days, or so he believed at this time. sparkle bright in the sun's rays do prismatic eyes, genuine in intrigue at a story of a war long ago before he took his first breath, pale contours morph into clear excitement. "oui, sโ€™il vous plaรฎtโ€“ yes, please." eager chatter of teeth together, deep the desire to hear the woman's tale.