Trail of Crumbs
Jul 9, 2020 22:56:48 GMT -5
Post by Cyprena Sevenius on Jul 9, 2020 22:56:48 GMT -5
While the various trees scattered amongst the Weyrd were aplenty, there was a stretch of the Eastern Arbor where tall coniferous trees with narrow trunks stretched high into the sky, branches covered in dark green needles stretching out like umbrellas, so thickly that from down below, you could barely see the blue sky, much less the sun.
The Weyrd was quiet that day, with no drumbeats to speak of, but a few Whazzitinians may notice, abruptly, a trail of crumbs on the ground. Not crumbs scattered messily across the floor, mind you, but thick pieces, which looked ripped even, dotted along the ground forming a clear path. It’s unclear what the crumbs are made of from a distance, pale colors with mixes of some splotchy brown. Tasting a morsel was probably not the best plan, but it’s immediately obviously bread. A trail of bread, twisting and turning wherever you are, wherever you go, all pointing to the same direction.
The thick evergreen forest.
And should you follow this path, crumb after crumb, straight through the heart of the forest, tree after tree looking just as same as the last, you would come up to something peculiar. Maybe not peculiar for Whazzit’s standards, but peculiar nonetheless.
A house made of candy. With thick, burnt brown sugar walls, licorice pillars, peppermint swirls lining clear sugar windows and frosting swirled onto the roof, the smell emitting from the house is sweet, almost sickly so. And yet it stands there, strong, with a gumdrop path leading up to a door, a door made of chocolate with a white chocolate handle and knocker. And while the house looks good enough to eat, delightful, almost, something does not feel right.
Who the heck would have a house made of candy, anyway?
What do you do now?
Emerald Rudosk -- Rudolph
Sapphire Estisk -- Zenith
The Weyrd was quiet that day, with no drumbeats to speak of, but a few Whazzitinians may notice, abruptly, a trail of crumbs on the ground. Not crumbs scattered messily across the floor, mind you, but thick pieces, which looked ripped even, dotted along the ground forming a clear path. It’s unclear what the crumbs are made of from a distance, pale colors with mixes of some splotchy brown. Tasting a morsel was probably not the best plan, but it’s immediately obviously bread. A trail of bread, twisting and turning wherever you are, wherever you go, all pointing to the same direction.
The thick evergreen forest.
And should you follow this path, crumb after crumb, straight through the heart of the forest, tree after tree looking just as same as the last, you would come up to something peculiar. Maybe not peculiar for Whazzit’s standards, but peculiar nonetheless.
A house made of candy. With thick, burnt brown sugar walls, licorice pillars, peppermint swirls lining clear sugar windows and frosting swirled onto the roof, the smell emitting from the house is sweet, almost sickly so. And yet it stands there, strong, with a gumdrop path leading up to a door, a door made of chocolate with a white chocolate handle and knocker. And while the house looks good enough to eat, delightful, almost, something does not feel right.
Who the heck would have a house made of candy, anyway?
What do you do now?
Emerald Rudosk -- Rudolph
Sapphire Estisk -- Zenith