screwthatnoise

[WINCES and just steps closer to the tree]

No way.

The voice doesn't talk back—the same thing echoes in your head. And if you step closer to this dark tree, the voice only grows louder.

*ughhh*

Janta, will you be okay if we get closer? We need to get your limb back.

[tries another step, for now...]

Janta tentatively nods.

"I-I want it back..."

As long as you don't touch the tree, you should be fine... though that voice might be creating a headache at this point.

And belatedly, at the foot of the tree, where the roots sprawl, is a pile of dirt.

*to Lloyd*

Jump for it?

I can try.

[how far is it?]

It's high up!

In fact.

Just as you ponder this, the tree branch it's hooked onto stretches up higher. Like a jerk.

*OR WE COULD FLY FOR IT, MAYBE*

Do you think you can fly up there? I could hold happiness.

Sure. Janta, stay with Lloyd for a little bit, all right?

*PETS it and hands it over -- then tenses and does a literal flying leap off the ground and up at the branch, assuming skills don't suddenly switch off -- he's really, really fast.*

[GO GET'EM BRO

I'LL HOLD YOUR TEDDY]

Janta nods, IT IS OKAY WITH THIS, even if it seems a little disturbed at the moment.

Thankfully your flight skill survives, and you can reach the limb just in time before it tries to snatch it away again.

And, of course, that painfully weird voice is still resounding through your head. This applies to both of you.

*GETTING THE HELL AWAY AND DOWN TO THE GROUND WITH THE LIMB*

What even are you?!

[PETTING JANTA]

Yeah! Why is this tree growing like this, anyway?!

"Because I asked a fool to plant it. After all, it belongs here."

—that voice isn't Janta's. It's colder, almost frigid, and it came from behind the two of you.

*oh lord. turning sharply, poised to shift between the source of that voice and Janta if he's got to*

[...gently moving to set Janta down and do the same]

Standing a short distance away is a figure in a red, hooded cloak. She looks unamused, and her mouth is a firm, straight line. Until she speaks, of course, sounding as cold as she did.

"I'm bothered."

She looks over the tree.

"You shouldn't have taken that limb down. But..."

She looks back at them.

"As long as you promise to leave, and as long as you leave this tree be, I may allow you to keep your lives."

. . . what is it?

[. . . reaches to touch it, keeping his eyes on her]

When you touch the tree, a sudden urge to put yourself in immense pain pulses through you.

The cloaked figure smiles softly; fondly, really.

"It's the one thing that belongs in this garden of hopes."

It looks sick -- it sounds sick. You want it to kill her hopes, don't you?

[reacting possibly not as desired with an immediate loud expression of NOPE]

That's not a hope!

The figure's smile disappears, her expression now grim.

"Wrong. Wrong, wrong wrong. Both of you are wrong. This is the only thing the dead side of Hail managed to grow. This is her last hope."

The figure turns its head to look at the expansive garden, but looks at nothing in particular, as if ignoring every bit of it.

Edited 2013-07-30 19:16 (UTC)

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