Stage 29 - Faith in Those Who Serve
Stage 29 - Faith in Those Who Serve
Neither of you questioned the drink that was so kindly offered by the house elf. Your housemate parched and finally able to consume, you have not even had a chance to brush your teeth yet. While there are numerous oddities, you know one thing that has always held true: house elves are 'good', they only lived to serve. To serve you, the privileged and awesome wizard whose blood was gilded even if you came from poverty, you won the genetic lottery and had endless potential and opportunity. You did not live to serve, they did.
The cup they gave you felt almost weightless in your palm. The delicate porcelain gave the liquid inside a sense of refinement—like something served at a ladies royal brunch. The scent was pleasant. Sweet. The taste even more so.
The drink was not like leaf water. It was not tea. This room temperature drink was syrupy and lightly spiced. The sweetness clung to the tongue, masking something truly devious just underneath. Whatever it was, it was not quite medicinal. More like wormwood and crushed forget-me-not, with a trace of something older still—something that grew beneath earth and stone, never kissed by sun.
A King would be disappointed.
But a child’s tongue would not.
The drink settled warmly in your stomachs, even if what you drank had no actual heat. Too warm in fact.
And then it came. Slowly at first. Like a child spun around by the hands of a too-eager parent. A sway. A tilt. Vision sliding off the corners of focus. Their limbs felt light. Their heads heavy.
When you began to sway, blinking slow and heavy like sleep was dragging you underwater, Canbrey finally stepped forward. Kneeling. Quietly brushing a strand of hair from the your forehead. They smiled. The expression was not unkindly. Just… knowing.
“It’s better this way,” Canbrey murmured, voice soft, ancient. “Memory’s a weight. A tangle. A trap.” One that they would release you from.
Your bodies would slump against the wall, your breaths shallow.
Canbrey would tilt their head, watching as the last light of recognition faded.
“Shhh,” they whispered. “Let the thread unravel. Let the pattern end."
This thread is open to players that have the Twinkle Doll in their inventory. Simply post in this thread, choose a path and carry on. Let's see where this adventure takes you. This thread has an abbreviated word count - 50 words minimum.
Neither of you questioned the drink that was so kindly offered by the house elf. Your housemate parched and finally able to consume, you have not even had a chance to brush your teeth yet. While there are numerous oddities, you know one thing that has always held true: house elves are 'good', they only lived to serve. To serve you, the privileged and awesome wizard whose blood was gilded even if you came from poverty, you won the genetic lottery and had endless potential and opportunity. You did not live to serve, they did.
The cup they gave you felt almost weightless in your palm. The delicate porcelain gave the liquid inside a sense of refinement—like something served at a ladies royal brunch. The scent was pleasant. Sweet. The taste even more so.
The drink was not like leaf water. It was not tea. This room temperature drink was syrupy and lightly spiced. The sweetness clung to the tongue, masking something truly devious just underneath. Whatever it was, it was not quite medicinal. More like wormwood and crushed forget-me-not, with a trace of something older still—something that grew beneath earth and stone, never kissed by sun.
A King would be disappointed.
But a child’s tongue would not.
The drink settled warmly in your stomachs, even if what you drank had no actual heat. Too warm in fact.
And then it came. Slowly at first. Like a child spun around by the hands of a too-eager parent. A sway. A tilt. Vision sliding off the corners of focus. Their limbs felt light. Their heads heavy.
When you began to sway, blinking slow and heavy like sleep was dragging you underwater, Canbrey finally stepped forward. Kneeling. Quietly brushing a strand of hair from the your forehead. They smiled. The expression was not unkindly. Just… knowing.
“It’s better this way,” Canbrey murmured, voice soft, ancient. “Memory’s a weight. A tangle. A trap.” One that they would release you from.
Your bodies would slump against the wall, your breaths shallow.
Canbrey would tilt their head, watching as the last light of recognition faded.
“Shhh,” they whispered. “Let the thread unravel. Let the pattern end."
Optional: Have a dream sequence.
New Adventure Hook starts April 19Note: If multiple players with stitched up player friends enter this thread, you would appear to be sleeping in the beds in the hospital wing. The hospital wing still initially appearing empty less the sleeping youths for the sake of continuity.
There is something about ambition, how it not only propels you but also defines you.
Stage 29 - Faith in Those Who Serve
Mellani drank the tea. It was really good, and it somehow made her arm hurt a bit less. She watched as the student beside her drank it too. However, for some reason, this did not taste like tea. It was really sweet, but maybe that was just too much sugar.
As the drink settled in her stomach, it felt warm, even though when she had drunk it, it had felt like it was at room temperature. It was then that Mellani started feeling the familiar weight of sleep. The elf leaned close to her and brushed away a strand of hair, smiling in a knowing way. They said something about memory being a trap, and all Mellani could think of before sleep clutched her was, something was very, very wrong and she shouldn't have drunk the tea.
As the drink settled in her stomach, it felt warm, even though when she had drunk it, it had felt like it was at room temperature. It was then that Mellani started feeling the familiar weight of sleep. The elf leaned close to her and brushed away a strand of hair, smiling in a knowing way. They said something about memory being a trap, and all Mellani could think of before sleep clutched her was, something was very, very wrong and she shouldn't have drunk the tea.
iNPC: Reuben Garcia
Stage 29 - Faith in Those Who Serve
@Mellani Miller's breath slowed, each inhale shallower than the last, like her lungs were gently forgetting how to pull the world in. It was as if a rubber band had been placed around her lungs. They expanded with exhaustive effort only to snap back.
The warmth in her belly began to spread, the warmth was not comforting now, but consuming. The heat crept through her veins like ivy, slow and deliberate, winding its way up through her chest and behind her eyes. Down her arms and her legs, reaching her fingers and toes which felt cold comparatively last. Her heartbeat no longer felt like her own. It was too steady. Too slow. As though someone else were winding the clock.
The elf’s hand was gentle, reverent almost, brushing her brown hair from her brow like one might tend to a doll left in the attic, precious, but no longer truly alive.
“Shhh,” they whispered again, voice barely stirring the air.
And behind that smile that Mellani could no longer see as the curtain had already lowered over her eyes, was a weight. That smile that seemed initially so kind. So subservient. Now carried an ancient stillness. It was no longer a kindly expression, but rather one of inevitability.
The porcelain cup, still resting where Mellani had set it down, glinted under the flickering light of candles, though it hadn’t caught it before. The reflection twisted, there were too many eyes, or none at all.
Mellani might have wanted to scream, to move, to run, to fight the heaviness pulling her down, but her limbs refused to respond. Her thoughts weren’t swimming anymore. They were sinking. Sinking into a strange, unnatural slumber.
And somewhere beyond the room, beyond the stone and memory and breath, Mellani felt something watching. Not the elf. Not Canbrey.
Something older.
"She is dead," Canbrey announced. Words that Mellani was not intended to hear, but she heard them all the same.
But Mellani was not dead was she? As the world around her faded, a new one emerged. The world did not reappear all at once. No, it emerged softly, like mist being drawn back by invisible hands. And Mellani would find herself standing, not in her body, but in the shape of herself on a long, endless corridor paved with cracked tiles. The colors were muted, as though memory itself had been bleached and stretched too thin.
Do you?
The warmth in her belly began to spread, the warmth was not comforting now, but consuming. The heat crept through her veins like ivy, slow and deliberate, winding its way up through her chest and behind her eyes. Down her arms and her legs, reaching her fingers and toes which felt cold comparatively last. Her heartbeat no longer felt like her own. It was too steady. Too slow. As though someone else were winding the clock.
The elf’s hand was gentle, reverent almost, brushing her brown hair from her brow like one might tend to a doll left in the attic, precious, but no longer truly alive.
“Shhh,” they whispered again, voice barely stirring the air.
And behind that smile that Mellani could no longer see as the curtain had already lowered over her eyes, was a weight. That smile that seemed initially so kind. So subservient. Now carried an ancient stillness. It was no longer a kindly expression, but rather one of inevitability.
The porcelain cup, still resting where Mellani had set it down, glinted under the flickering light of candles, though it hadn’t caught it before. The reflection twisted, there were too many eyes, or none at all.
Mellani might have wanted to scream, to move, to run, to fight the heaviness pulling her down, but her limbs refused to respond. Her thoughts weren’t swimming anymore. They were sinking. Sinking into a strange, unnatural slumber.
And somewhere beyond the room, beyond the stone and memory and breath, Mellani felt something watching. Not the elf. Not Canbrey.
Something older.
"She is dead," Canbrey announced. Words that Mellani was not intended to hear, but she heard them all the same.
But Mellani was not dead was she? As the world around her faded, a new one emerged. The world did not reappear all at once. No, it emerged softly, like mist being drawn back by invisible hands. And Mellani would find herself standing, not in her body, but in the shape of herself on a long, endless corridor paved with cracked tiles. The colors were muted, as though memory itself had been bleached and stretched too thin.
Dream Sequence
Do you?
There is something about ambition, how it not only propels you but also defines you.
Stage 29 - Faith in Those Who Serve
Mellani slowly let the sleep take her even though she knew somewhere down the line that she should not let that happen. She needed to fight it, but her limbs refused to do anything. The last words she heard before sleeping were "She is dead". No, she was not dead, just almost asleep. Why wasn't she able to get up? In no time, she went into a deep sleep and the dreams started.
iNPC: Reuben Garcia