Vivarium
BWP First Door: The Sun's Return - Printable Version

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RE: First Door: The Sun's Return - Lonán - 4/6/2026

Lonán was frightened. He wanted his mah or his da. He'd take his sister's 3 too. When he first stepped through and the ice began to assail him. He screamed in agony. As his joints, his bones, they ached to their very foundation. The cold dug deep and held fast.

He tried to take a step and a ragged sob left his maw, as the pain burned up into his knees and his shoulders. Chasing each other along spine and bone.

Tears hot and salty poured from his eyes. But the world was ending. And he needed to find his family or save them. Even with a broken body. As young as he was, this felt innately important. If he didn't at least try.

His breathing grew ever more erratic and shallow. Deep breaths impossible to pull inward. As he did they to burned like hot knives. He coughed and tasted copper. Each step he went closer to the ground. Until he was laying prone. Not even the breath left to cry out.

It was a tingle at first, before blackness chose him. Then an itch and a warmth as it spread from his toe pads into his legs and further upward. Expanding his lungs. He felt a warmth like his mother's voice, his father's laugh. His sisters in the tangle of limbs and bodies as they laughed until they couldn't breathe.

It unfroze his limbs. And magic surged into him. He might never be an honorable man. He was the son of thieves, and possible killers. But someone had to do the dirty work. Someone had to secure balance amd justice. Sometimes in the shadows. Why not his family. So he lifted his voice and he yelled at the darkness. Because his family in all their glory were worth it. His family in their darkness and light were his world and he'd do everything in his little young power to save them.

lesten 'ere you cowardly shet! You are de sun so rise! lesten 'ere you yellow bellied foehcker! YOU needs to rise! stahp 'idin! coward!

His voice grew louder. His heart stronger. And when words failed him. When he didn't know anymore to add. His voice rose with a keening, yearning, fighting howl. Demanding! He roared! He was like the stories of old! The songs that told stories, that screeched late at night from Jaskier. He howled louder.


RE: First Door: The Sun's Return - Violet - 4/8/2026

[Image: sky.png]


She cared little for the woes of this dream fellow, but she certainly cared about the lack of sunlight and ever-encroaching winter apocalypse. It was difficult to be popular when you were dead, after all, and although she'd made fair to no progress in socializing the past year, who said she couldn't start now? This wouldn't do, she thought, pursing her lips.

Whatever his personal issues were, she missed spring - and if there was any way to hasten this outcome, then she'd contribute like everyone else.

The Dream Visitor was likely sorely disappointed as Violet swept past him with the perfumed majesty of a monarch ascending her throne. Door One; that looked suitable. No screaming, no violence, no terrible life-or-death decisions.

Violet stepped through the portal, tipped her very beautiful head back, and sang.




RE: First Door: The Sun's Return - Legend - 4/15/2026


Thank you so much to the team for letting me squeeze in a last minute post. I didn't have time during the week when I was working on the island art, and I'm so grateful!


All she had wanted was to feel her breath cease.

That maybe then, she'd find peace.

One moment, a storming imp that stood at a crossroads of three lands, obedient to the darkness that had crawled up each limb. Feeling so very, very stuck to the ground, and crumbling into the deep as though tar was weighing her chest down. A lifeless husk of a jester, waiting to be someone's favorite toy again.
But someone never came.
And Legend was dusted with abandonment now.

The next instance, the feeling of pressure at her back to move, following the yank of a leash that wasn't there and into a cold plunge.

Ice.

Snow tried to devour her. Trudging forward, feeling her skin begin to stiffen and wondering next: when would tufts of fur turn into black ice crystals? Legend had tried so hard to be fire that she had forgotten she was water. So, when a dripping nose started to freeze cold, and the vast emptiness of a winterland grew more endless and ever black, there was the start of a lost toy who was ready to give up. Unwilling to continue, unable to stop the trembling, and beginning to fall. Unable to cry, for the tears had frozen.

Fluttering lashes dotted with snow held eyes beneath them, searching between their shadows for a sun that was not there. A hollow, emptied look.
I believe in no god.
But she was their child.

And she prayed the songs of the red palace, helpless.