VISCETS : Summer Prompt Thread - New Prompt pg 16

[kiffell]

Prompt 4 - Camping and/or Campfire Stories
username;
{words or art}

Elly likes to tell campfire stories to Jet and Zale

Afterwards Zale usually gets very scared and hides somewhere

{viscets used / credits} Elly, Jet, and Zale

[PikachuTori25]

Prompt 4 - Camping and/or Campfire Stories

username; PikachuTori25
Kishiko behind one of her small pools full of fish in her house, staring at the red light that Shimizu had made in the middle of the cave. "Is that thing safe?" she questioned. Shimizu rolled his eyes. "Oh, my great goddess.. it's a fire, I made it just for tonight... I'm having a sleep-over here, have you forgot?" Kishiko narrowed her eyes. "I haven't forgot, but why did you make fire? Isn't it dangerous?" the goddess asked. "Don't worry Kishiko, I dug a small pit and it should be safe here! We're gonna roast these marshmallows and tell scary stories! You should have some right? Your old!" Shimizu joked. Kishiko huffed at the human. "I'm not that old..." she grumbled, slowly going over and gasping. "Oooh, it's warm over by the fire!" she happily lay down near it, her tail thumping against the ground. Shimizu rolled his eyes yet again, sitting down in front of the goddess and leaning on her. He grabbed the bag of marshmallows nearby and opened it, stuffing one in his mouth. Kishiko looked at the bag curiously and dug her muzzle into the bag, grabbing a mouth full. "Hey! Don't eat them all!" Shimizu took the bag away from her reach and grabbed a stick he brought with him, shoving two marshmallows onto it and hovering it above the fire. "When these are roasting, how about you start a scary story?" Shimizu suggested, looking at the goddess he was leaning on. Kishiko nodded slowly, thinking of her best story. "Mhhh...have you hear the story of the ghost girl that appears on this beach?" she asked and the human shook his head. "I don't recall ever hearing that story." he answered. Kishiko grinned. "Great! I'll tell it then!" the goddess smiled. "Well.... I've seen her myself, there is a ghost girl that wanders this very beach..." Kishiko started. "You can only spot her on foggy days, in the very early morning. She wanders down to the waterfront and stares out into the ocean... I think she either drowned or was lost at sea... or she's waiting for someone to come back from sea, and is stuck on this beach forever." Kishiko finished. Shimizu laughed quietly and Kishiko looked offended. "Was that not scary?" she asked. Shimizu gently handed the goddess the roasted marshmallow. "Not really." he answered. "I have a even scarier story!" he smirked. Kishiko huffed. "Tell it then, human boy!" the goddess repiled. The two spent the rest of the night sharing scary but not really scary stories to each other.
(428 words)
(Starring Kishiko & Shimizu (As a human) )

[Strudel]

Prompt 4 - Camping and/or Campfire Stories

username; Strudel

The grove was gloomy, the rain only having stopped an hour before. There was a silence to the copse of trees that seemed to indicate that life couldn't live there-- or at the very least shouldn't. It might have been the quiet, or perhaps it was the fog, but the entire place left an unpleasant feeling in the pit of one's stomach that just seemed to scream "Unwelcome."
The sky was starless-- moonless-- it was a night that most creatures would stay hidden in their burrows, dens, wherever they might live.

Not Zhan and Reagan.

Zhan seemed unfazed by the dead silence and the downright un-right-ness of the place as he sat down in a small clearing of the minuscule forest they had run across. He shook out his fur, looking to Reagan with a smile (not that she could see it or anything, but she could feel it in the muscles of his face.)

"I think we've found it!" Zhan exclaimed, breaking the dead silence. Reagan shivered.

"Zhan, we should find some shelter, we're in the open. It might rain again."

"It doesn't SMELL like rain is coming." Zhan argued her logic, stubborn as ever "Besides, I want to build a fire. I'm a little chilly. And it looks like some of the wood here isn't damp from the tree coverage."

Reagan didn't bother to argue with Zhan, not over something this simple. She simply nodded and let him set to work on gathering the wood. She stayed silent as she watched Zhan gather the wood and start the fire through his eyes At least he knows what he's doing.

The darkness of the grove is broken by the sole light dancing against the trees, illuminating the small space with almost... jovial light. Or menacing light, if you were of a different mindset. The small woods is still silent, aside from the occasional crackle of the flames consuming the fuel that Zhan had so painstakingly gathered.

"I think we should tell stories." Zhan spoke as he watched the fire spark and dance. Of course, that meant Reagan was staring at the fire too, and she wasn't entirely sure why it wasn't hurting his eyes.

Reagan wanted to rest, but honestly telling stories sounded like it could be quite fun, so without her initial reluctance she agreed. Immediately, Zhan began telling a tale of darkness and fear. Or, at least he thought it was. Reagan had to stifle a laugh as he tried to describe a creepy scene (which wasn't really that creepy by description unless you count saying "dark" and "creepy as hell" as appropriate descriptors to actually invoke fear) It was obvious Zhan was trying to scare her, and she didn't want to hurt his feelings, but it wasn't really scary at all and through most of the story she had to school her expression and avoid laughing. Oh, man, did she feel terrible for having to force herself not to ridicule her brother. He really was trying his hardest-- she recognized this.

"And the man with the hatchet came up beside the couple and *slash!* they were cut down in moments, never suspected they had not actually defeated his evil!" Zhan said, his face serious as he began the end of his tale "They say that he still stalks this forest to this day... waiting to take the heads of any who dare to stay in it!" he used his foot to tap Reagan's "back" which was pointless considering she could feel him move. Even if she couldn't-- it really hadn't been a scary story.

Reagan burst out laughing, she really couldn't help it. She could feel his face fall, but even then she couldn't stop her wild chuckling. "I'm... I'm sorry Zhan... I-" she barely managed to say in between laughs.

Zhan's ears drooped, he had really thought he managed to be scary. His frown deepened.

"You do better then." he replied "I bet the only stories you can tell are about flowers and candy or something." he ridiculed her. She didn't take it to heart, however.

How could he think that it's really that scary, after what we've been through? She couldn't help to think. She shook her "head" some and smiled sweetly to Zhan, which only managed to agitate him further.

"You don't want me to try." she replied and to this, he simply scoffed.

"You know you can't do better." was his only reply.

Reagan had to bite back a smirk. He was really inviting it on. She knew exactly what she was going to tell him. His greatest fear was disease and illness. She already knew a tale she could share with him that would prey on those fears. She knew the tale word for word, it was one of her favorites. Though, she thought she might deviate from it some here and there. She cleared her throat and began.

"No pestilence had ever been so fatal, or so hideous. Blood was its Avatar and its seal--the redness and the horror of blood." already Reagan could feel the uncertainty and the beginning of fear in Zhan's expression. This was going to be even easier than she thought it would be.

Zhan remained quiet through the entirety of the tale, both gruesomely captivated and utterly sickened by the tale. He was terrified of it, and yet he listened closely with apprehension as Reagan's soft voice recounted the horrible tale. The only time he visibly started was when he realized that the Red Death was a tangible form.

Gooseflesh coated his back under his fur as Reagan finished the tale "Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all." after that, the clearing-- the entire small forest-- was silent once more. Well, apart from the occasional crackle of the flames.

Reagan was the first to break the silence. Partly because she feared Zhan never would.

"But it's all just a story Zhan. Don't let it get to you too much." she felt a little guilty.

It took several minutes, but Zhan finally smiled to her. He followed that with a small chuckle "You're savage Reagan. That story was horrifying." he said to her, shaking his head "I don't think I'll be able to sleep tonight after that."

While Reagan managed to sleep quite restfully, Zhan had been right. He hadn't slept a wink.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ok, now after that, I thought I'd write a bit of fluff about a couple other characters :3 so I hope you enjoy~

"How can you write country music, if you've never been camping before?" Teddy asked the same question in a different set of words for the tenth or so time since Monroe had first told him she had never gone camping. They continued to bicker about the subject as they made their way through the wooded area with their supplied in tow. Monroe had not been permitted to rent a camper, she was told she would have to sleep in a tent or under the stars. As chill as she usually was, she wasn't quite sure she liked the idea. Still, she had agreed. It wasn't as if she was going to get out of it anytime soon. Teddy could be stubborn when an idea was in his head. She already knew that, and they had barely been dating a month now. Though, they had known each other for about six months now.

Monroe shook her head a bit as she realized how mad her best friend would be right now. She keeps telling me we're moving too fast. She could imagine Marguerite's expression, and what she would say "You barely know the guy! And you go out camping? In the woods? Alone? What if he turned out to be some sicko?"
She was used to Marguerite's dramatics, so the words she would hear would frankly barely phase the chill viscet. She actually smiled at the thought-- at least she had a friend who cared for her that deeply.

"Here's a good spot." Teddy said as he placed down the heavy supplies-- breaking Monroe's silent thoughts. It didn't take long for the two of them to set up the camp. What did take a long time was the fishing (which only Teddy caught anything doing) and the cooking (which at least Monroe was skilled at.)

It wasn't until the fire was starting to die that Monroe rested her head lightly against Teddy. He smiled down at her as he put his arm around her. He wanted to tell her very much that he loved her. He could feel the words bubbling up in his throat. He feared it was too soon, so instead he began to sing to his love softly. A song he had written for her, though he didn't say that as the words dripped softly from his mouth like honey. Monroe blush as she listened to him sing, hoping quietly that at least in some part the words were meant for her.

[1499/1500]

Story 1; Zhan and Reagan
*note* Reagan is Zhan's tail. She is sentient and has a personality outside of Zhan's. She is her own person, so to speak.
Story 2; Monroe | Teddy | Marguerite (who is only mentioned)

Quotes are from Masque of the Red Death by Edgar Allen Poe

[fromage]

Prompt 4 - Camping and/or Campfire Stories

username; Mareep
{words or art}
res with novaks <u<

"Come on. This is fun! We haven't had time together, all of us. Keaton's here for once." Atticus checked her marshmallow, then put the stick over a campfire to roast her treat more.

"I STAYED, because I'm SCARED of getting lost in the DARK WOODS, mom." Keaton piped up as he rolled over to lie lazily on a tree trunk that Saykon and Uzomi busted their rears dragging over to use as seats.

"We're worried about our jobs, mother," Uzomi started, looking over at Saykon next to him, "I don't know if closing the Polaris Lodge is a good idea. Saykon's worried about his animals."

"Um. And I had a photoshooting session, thing, I promised someone." Viktoriya added in.

"It's only for one night. As much as I wanted this to be a week long, I promised one night, didn't I?" Atticus put her well roasted marshmallow in a graham cracker sandwich with chocolate.

The four stayed quiet after silent agreement of listening to their mother.

wip
{viscets used / credits}

[Parasitic Rat]

Prompt 4 - Camping and/or Campfire Stories

Username;; Wolfenhimer

Family Camping Trip - 450/1500
"And at the end the wolf bit at the pig, and ate him!" L'ombre laughed, scaring her brother, Exousía, who yelped.
"Calm down, kids. The stories haven't began yet." Souhait laughed, throwing down the bag of marshmallows near them. Pahit clapped her hands together and turned to face her family.
"Tents are ready! Should we share stories now, or...?" She asked, kneeling next to the campfire.
"Can't we go on a scary walk or something?" Exousía asked, crossing his arms.
"We can... if you can find somewhere scary to go." Souhait smiled.
"I'd rather tell stories." L'ombre said with a shrug.
"To scare me? No way!" Exousía barked.
"I'd also rather tell stories." Pahit said. Souhait shook her head as L'ombre and her younger brother started to get into fights.
"Stop or you're not getting anything to eat!" Pahit snapped. The siblings quickly scampered to their seats, while Pahit cleared her throat. "Good."

---

It was the middle of the night, the campfire was raging and growing as Souhait threw thatch into the flames.
"Who's telling first?" Pahit asked, as Souhait sat down and gave everyone sticks and a few marshmallows.
"I'm good at telling stories! I'll go first." L'ombre said confidently, and straightened her back with pride. She shoved three marshmallows on her stick, like a ca-bob, and stuck it over the flames, beginning her story.
"One night there were four campers, all a group of friends the came to the forest to get scared..." She began, with a laugh, which startled Exousía. "They were sitting by the fire, then all of a sudden, as loud roar erupted from the trees! All the birds around the cawed and flew away, as the campers stood up, filled with fright! They looked toward where the noise came from, and there was two glowing red eyes staring right at them!" She said, making a fake roar.
"I'm going to prank the kids." Souhait whispered to Pahit, before standing up. "I'll be back. Continue your story." She said, while Pahit covered up a giggle.
"Anyway, the red eyes blinked, and a bear stepped out of the shadows, the fire lighting up his face like the scene out of a horror movie!" L'ombre laughed. Suddenly, a loud roar came from behind them, and L'ombre jumped over the fire and clung to her mother, shaking from the startle. Exousía ran over as well, hugging both L'ombre and Pahit at the same time. Suddenly, two eyes, yellow outlined with red, glowed from the darkness.
"Did I scare you?" Souhait laughed stepping out of the shadows, giving her children a hug.
"You did!" L'ombre laughed.
"Don't do that!" Exousía whined as the family let out a laugh.

Souhait D'incendie/Pahit Manis/L'ombre du Désert/Exousía

[_Alex_]

Prompt 4 - Camping and/or Campfire Stories

username; _Alex_
{words or art}

it's warmer on land, avente notices. without the sea breeze, the rocking of the ship, the wide open spaces, everything is warmer. the sand and soil and vegetation holding in the sun's heat long into the night. it's not much of a difference he thinks. the air is still sticky and thick with humidity regardless, still uncomfortable. but it's enough of a difference for him to notice. he can't feel cold anymore, the bite of the wind and ice is something he's only felt once, but he can feel heat that's for sure.

and right now, that's all he feels. heat and warmth.

the heat from the fire in front of him is almost unbearable, radiating outward and threatening to singe his feathers even from ten feet away. he'd told socrates not to build the fire so large, there was no need for anything bigger than a cooking fire really, but the kids had sunk their claws into him and he gave in to their wishes, stacking log on top of log. it was almost hilarious how weak the thief was to the younglings even after two centuries of knowing them.

the warmth, the warmth he feels comes from two places. foremost from his mate's side, pressed tightly to his own, but most of all from inside his heart. from the sight of his pack and crew mates spread out and enjoy the feeling of solid land beneath their feet. it was a rare thing for them to spend the night off of the ship. his mate was too paranoid about the treacheries of the land and all that it held, but he was stubborn and used to getting his way. so it was at his insistance that they spent the night on the shore at least once during the summer. when the night was at it's shortest and they were on land for as little time as possible.

it was late in the night, close to midnight perhaps, after all of the mortal members of the crew had fallen into the clutches of sleep, that tania pocked her claw into his side. he startled, rousing a short growl out of his mate, before he turned to look at her. "do you have a story for us?' she asked, voice pitched quietly but surely. the question was vague, but he knew instantly what she was talking about.

it was a tradition of sorts, on he had started decades ago on accident, to tell a story to his pack. one that would leave the crew shivering in fear but would lull the pack to sleep. but for once, he didn't have one. he had been dreading this question all night just for that reason. "i don't," he said softly, always just a bit too sweet on her, "i'm sorry."

tania frowned and from across the fire he could hear scipio whine in disappointment. before he could apologize though, he felt his mate shifting against his side. "he might not." his mate rumbled, scratched and salty from centuries of sea spray, "but i do."

"you have a story for us macre?" socrates piped up, curiosity hidden beneath teasing, never before had their captain offered up a tale. "of course i do." he huffed, rearranging himself so that he could face all of his pack. and then, he started to weave his tale.

---

once, deep in the hills of a country by the sea, there lived a pair of viscets, as different as can be. one was red as blood with markings as black as pitch, the other pure white.

the white one was a poet, one who loved to travel beneath the sun and spread his stories. he came from a wealthy family, a pack of merchants and town leaders and other rich types. he had never known hunger growing up. had only known happiness and joy. he wanted for nothing and had everything, and he was happy in this way.

the red one was a necromancer that lived under the moon. one who had naturally been gifted with black magic, with the ability to talk to the dead and raise the ghosts. he had only known poverty and pain and hunger and weakness. all he desired was power and strength, and so he had traded his soul to the devil for that power.

the two had nothing in common. nothing at all except for one thing: they were in love.

they had met in a small town on the top of a mountain. they were staying in a small inn, the only business in town besides a small general store and it's tiny restaurant. it was by coincidence that the red one found himself in the lobby, listening to the white one share his poem on death and the devil. and the white one was wrong, oh so wrong about so many of the things he spoke about, that the red one could not help but tell him so. the white one, rather than be offended that a stranger was correcting him, welcomed the criticism and invited the red one up to his room, hoping to hear even more of his thoughts.

and so their courtship began. it was an odd one. a courtship built on poetry and spells, ink and blood, quills and blades, showcase and sacrifice. eventually the two feel in love however. so much so that the white one was willing to learn small rituals and writings from the red one. it is said that their love was stronger than the stuff of mortals. the type of love that came only once in an eon. the type of love only immortals could have.

it was the type of love that a jealous god killed them for.

they were on a carriage ride the night of the accident. the night had started out lovely, all clear skies and shining stars. and then the storm clouds rolled in off the sea, moving faster than should have been possible. the storm was terrifying. all lightning and thunder and rain that fell to the earth like bullets. the stallion that had been pulling their carriage was young, raised inland where he had never before seen a storm such as that one. the horse spooked, and bolted, racing through the mud, until he took a turn too fast and the carriage slipped on the muddy path. all three of them were sent hurling over the side of a cliff.

when morning rolled around, it was a sight too bloody to be seen under the sun. the stallion laid dead, impaled by the wood of the carriage. the red one was alive. having died thrice and being revived each time as he stumbled across the wreck looking for his mate. his mate that he never found. for the white one had been thrown into the sea and dragged down by the waves.

but that was not the end of his tale. for it was the god of the sea who had killed them. who had dragged the white one down to his death. and it was the god of the sea who summoned the devil and begged him to bring the white one back to life when he realized his error. and the devil agreed. but he punished the sea god, stripping him of some of his powers and granting them to the white one. only know the white one was no longer white. he was white and red, stained by blood and marked by skeletons and stars. he was different. he was mutated. he was immortal.

and the devil held no strings to the white one, for it was the sea god who had made the deal, in fact he gifted the white one with a ship. with the ability to control the storms. with the ability to build himself an immortal crew. and so know the white one sails the seas with his crew.

but he is always weary to return to land. for he still loves the red one, and the red one him, but both have changed. both have new mates and families. new fates and powers. they have changed. and the devil has warned him, that the day he meets the red one again, it might be the day he loses it all.

--

"what are their names?"

"the red one's name is kieran."

"and the white one?'

"macre. the white one is macre. for that is the story of my becoming."

{1412}

{viscets used / credits}

avente, macre, socrates, scipio, tania, kieran owned by me
tyramet owned by james.

[DragonCave]

Prompt 4 - Camping and/or Campfire Stories

username; DragonCave
{words or art}
Title

May or may not get to this bc of summer camp.

(0/1500 words; wip. Inspired by this writing prompt.)

[booklover789]

Prompt 4 - Camping and/or Campfire Stories

username;
booklover789

{words}
Spooky scary viscet skeletons come to life and breathe green mist that kills on impact with flesh – burns it due to nuclear capabilities

WIP

{viscets used / credits:
Pippa and Crispin}

[magpiemochi.]

Prompt 4 - Camping and/or Campfire Stories

username; james.
{words or art}
{viscets used / credits}
— hannibal jr and niklaus
— telling the story about the 'winged terror'
— niklaus is scare oml too spoopy

— monique and tobias
— she tell the story about the experiments
— tobias is scare oml 2 spoopy mom

OR get rid of all that completely and tell a humorous Moriarty camping trip instead mmhm

— james, molly, milo, james jr, sebastian, jeremy, felix

— james and jr are too prissy for camping
— molly and milo trying to make everyone have a good time
— jeremy is also too prissy for camping
— sebastian and felix are happier than a pig in mud

[ShimmerSolarPets]

Prompt 4 - Camping and/or Campfire Stories

username; ShimmerSolarPets

Keira likes to roast marshmallows when camping. Of course, she also has her fair share of horror stories to share if she's camping out with anyone else (most of them from personal experience...)

Viscet(s) used: Keira