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Saxoph0ne

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  1. Saxoph0ne
    ๐“ข๐“น๐“ป๐“ฒ๐“ท๐“ฐ ๐“•๐“ต๐“ธ๐”€๐“ฎ๐“ป๐“ผ, ๐“๐“พ๐“ฝ๐“พ๐“ถ๐“ท ๐“ต๐“ฎ๐“ช๐“ฟ๐“ฎ๐“ผ _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Crack. Just how long had she been walking for? Every second felt like an eternity. Snap. She plunged her dagger into another tree, trying to keep her balance. Her movements were clumsy at best, and the pain that shot throughout her body constantly didn't help. Blood seeped out from wounds on her back and trickled down her chin from her lips, staining her blue robes red. Each breath Liriel took was a battle, shallow and desperate, as the world around her blurred and spun. She could feel her strength ebbing away with every step she took, the once-vibrant green of the trees becoming dull and lifeless, as if it were dying along with her. Her vision swam, and she stumbled forward, trying to catch herself on a branch but failing and falling to the ground. Her dagger hit the ground next to her with a dull thump as she looked to the sky with half-lidded eyes. She was tired. So very tired. And the stars were oh so beautiful... A faint lullaby in the distance snapped her out of her thoughts, and with a trembling hand, she forced herself off the ground. There must be someone- something nearby that could help her. She placed her hand on her face and began to limp towards the source of the lullaby, its soothing whispers drawing her in like a moth to a flame. Every step made the lullaby get louder, draining out all other noise in the forest, and she eagerly followed it. It was addicting. The trees eventually parted to reveal a small clearing, bathed in ethereal moonlight. Before her was an oak tree, its trunk ancient and twisted abnormally. But what grabbed her attention were the flowers. Exceedingly large, brilliant white flowers that glowed like the stars. Liriel slowly approached the base of the tree, falling to her knees as a sudden breeze made her shiver. She could do nothing more than gaze up at the flowers. She didn't want to do anything more than gaze up at the flowers. She collapsed, rolling over so that she was lying on her back, looking to the sky as blood seeped into the soil beneath her. The gnarled roots of the tree emerged from beneath her, engulfing her body in a gentle embrace as it began to pull her down into the soil. Liriel laughed a weak, dying laugh, and managed to smile, despite everything. After all, she was right where she wanted to be. Home. _______________________________________________________________________________________________________
  2. Saxoph0ne

    Saxoph0ne

    Saxoph0ne posted an application in Accepted

    Youโ€™ve just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As you look around, your gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. You duck and step into a tattered tent, illuminated by a series of candles suspended in the air. At the back of the tent, an old hag raises her head, โ€œWhat brings you to this dingy town? she begins, then pauses to study your faceโ€”โ€Ah, itโ€™s you. Iโ€™ve been expecting you. Sit,โ€ she gestures at a cushion, โ€œTell me your story.โ€ Looking at the crone with one eyebrow raised in confusion and interest, Liriel would hesitantly sit down cross-legged on the cushion, shifting uncomfortably as she takes in the dirtiness of the tent and the surrounding area. She looks back at the exit of the tent, questioning herself if she should leave or not, but if this hag was expecting her, she might as well share what she can. She looks at the hag, places her hands in her lap, and then lets out a sigh as she thinks of what to say. "Well, there's not much of a story to tell. I come from Ramasar in search of knowledge. All knowledge, in fact." She would begin to lean back, looking up at the ceiling of the tent. "Every century, we lose generations of history from our ancestors. Crucial historical knowledge is lost and forgotten." She sits upright once again, making eye contact with the hag. "If I dedicate my life to finding and remembering this lost information, then I can pass it on to younger generations in my death, where it won't be forgotten. At least not for another few hundred years. Though perhaps I'm simply making an excuse for my love of, well, everything."
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