[symmetra]

username: symmetra
kalon name: Durum
secret: words: 298 / 300

Legends tell of a powerful spirit who resides in the foulest corner of a cursed dungeon. A spirit who would reward those powerful enough to clear such a crypt by granting their wish. Hundreds of adventurers have taken on this challenge, each hoping to strike gold, but none being strong enough to make it to the bottom.

But as the legends go, one man long ago was able to reach the spirit and persuade it to grant his wish.

"O, great spirit, I come begging help. Hear me out, for i- a humble villager- have bested your many trials" the man pleaded

"Very well, i shall hear your case" the entity answered

"My home is in peril. A cruel drought has killed our crops- and our livestock is becoming weak. Many of us have nowhere else to go. We are afraid. We do not want to leave our homes, you must help us!"

"Very well," said the spirit, reaching into a gilded pouch. He offered three seeds "I give you these. A strong, golden wheat that can flourish even in deserts."

The man thanked the spirit, and returned at once. He planted the seeds, and to his great relief, they sprouted in mere days. They were able to feed their livestock back to health and survive until the drought was over.

The only problem is...

He's not magic. He's not even a very strong spirit. He found those on his way home after a stroll. How was he supposed to know they were highly invasive!?

There's no way a miracle like that can happen twice. He hoped all of the monsters he packed into his cave would deter people, but apparently guys just see that as a way to show off.

He's considering just locking the front door.

[mars]

──────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
i“ 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘 𝚞 𝚠𝚊 𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚔 𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚊 𝚜𝚎𝚌 𝚛𝚎𝚝, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖 𝚞𝚜 𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕 𝚏. ”
                                  ― 𝙶𝚎𝚘 𝚛𝚐𝚎 𝙾𝚛 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕 , 𝟷𝟿𝟾 𝟺
──────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
  username: pallaleiga      •      kalon name: ceral wirth      •      secret: “what secret?”

 what do you do when you can't even remember your own secrets anymore? I wasn't entirely sure as I stared out the inn window
from across the room.
 “I'm telling you, no one is perfect,” the man sitting on the other side of the bar commented, snapping me back to reality as he
swirled his drink in his hand. his gaze followed the ice cubes clinking against the sides of the glass as he spoke. “you seem too
clean. so what's your secret, boy?”

 he gulped the pungent liquid down in a single mouthful, letting out a satisfied hiss with foul-smelling breath that made me
recoil. I was afraid of his question and tapped my fingers nervously behind my back.
 “I guess I'm just an honest person,” I answered, offering a hesitant smile. “I have no secrets. what about you?”

 those words weren't a complete lie. once upon a time, I had a secret of my own...but I couldn't remember anymore. it was
erased from my memory, just like how my mind was trying to cover its tracks again tonight.
 it's just another day at work. nothing is wrong. nothing happened. you're okay. those thoughts repeated over and over, making
me feel a little bit more at ease.

 what was so terrifying that my mind could no longer comprehend it? what made my family and friends give me that look of
silent sadness every time they saw me? the man's question planted a seed in my head that began to grow despite my mind's
attempts to kill it. I wanted to know again. was I living in ignorant bliss or complete denial? a hollow happiness? an imperfect lie?

──────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

                    the extra ― it returns

 I found myself standing on a cliff, staring into the ocean below. my mother was holding my hand tightly beside me, my sweaty
palms trembling with fear in our tangled fingers.
 “she was beautiful, you know.” tears were welling up in her eyes, and seeing that made me feel like I was choking.
 “yeah, I do.”

 I had forgotten the way her hair glittered in the moonlight, the sound of her laughter, and her sparkling eyes that were the
color of dark amber. I forgot the way the water splashed as we dove into the crashing waves in the darkness and the eerie
silence when her sound never surfaced again. we were just two young kids, madly in love and making dumb mistakes while we
pretended to run away together forever. I let out a muffled sob, shaking off my mother's hand and dropping to my knees. it was
my fault. I had brought her here. immediately after my memories began to return, I wanted to forget again.

 we're going home now. nothing is wrong. nothing happened. you're okay. you should get ready for work tomorrow. yeah.

 and just like magic, I forgot my terrible secret again.

[apprentice_]

username: rainichi | kalon name: maize (sorry)
 local hobo blesses a kid’s fields in secret | 709/700
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“i’m the spirit of the harvest.”
“is that a pickup line?”

“i’m the spirit of the harvest.”
“there are no gods anymore.”

“i’m the spirit of the harvest.”
“aren’t you that hobo down the street?”

he sits on the curb and gazes into the field of gold. it’s windy, and on the breeze
he catches the scent of a particular breadmaker’s work. her culinary skills bested
any other, and you couldn’t tell him otherwise because no others were about to
give him free bread, so. hers it was. but she told him to get lost after he ate half
her pantry, and he didn’t think there’d been enough time since then to go back
and grovel.

there’s always fresh wheat, he supposes. he’d surely choke on it but he could
just. reach forward and take a bundle while no one was looking. he was the
spirit of the harvest after all, this wheat was as much his as anybody’s. if not
for him, this wheat probably wouldn’t have even sprouted.

well, the field still looked kind of straggly. admittedly, he hadn’t been trying as
hard since people stopped believing in him. give it a couple hundred years, and
people get arrogant. start thinking it was all their own work that got them here,
ignore the hand that helped them.

another figure is suddenly sitting next to him, and he wonders how long they’ve
been there. they hand him a loaf of bread. he thanks them, and asks who they
might be.

“local neighborhood kid,” is all they answer. “take a bite, will you?”

he does, and he makes a face like, well. like he’s just eaten this godawful bread.
“what is this?”

“it isn’t good?”

“worst i’ve had in awhile, kid.” he says it bluntly— never was one to put things
gently— and panics when the kid instantly goes blank faced. “i mean! probably
just needs some more salt!”

“nah,” the kid shakes their head, “my wheat’s all messed up. it’s been a bad
harvest for awhile in town, and my field’s had the worst of it. i think it’s divine
retribution for the time i emptied a box of ants into the old man’s house.”

he nods. “that old man is terrible.”
they each give each other an understanding look.
“so...you have a farm, then?”

“yea! well, sort of! my parents and i just moved here, and we don’t have a lot
of land. but they’ve let me have my own little corner! and i, uh,” they try to
make sense of whatever they’re thinking about, “i mean, it’s our whole field
that’s bad, so it isn’t just me, right? i wonder what’s wrong with it.”

“kid,” he stands, “i guarantee you’ll have a better harvest this time around.”

“really?”

“absolutely!”


it’s something like… three? or so? years later? maybe twelve. he’s very old,
decrepit even, he has no idea what day or year it is anymore.

the town’s harvests are still. pretty. pretty bad. they don’t want his help
anymore, and he doesn’t give it.

but one of the wheat farmers became a bit of a local legend for just, absolutely
mysteriously, having very good harvests every year— and on a plot of land
everyone had kind of deemed unusable beforehand.

the kid greets him enthusiastically when he walks in. “maize!”

it still puts him at ease to hear them say his name. “how’s business?”

“it’s great! still can’t believe you were right about the field, i know i say it all
the time but i mean— you could make some money off that prophet work!”

maize laughs and takes a seat. he decided from the beginning it’d be best he
doesn’t take credit. he loved some appreciation, but— he loved this kid more.
he’s thinking this, and the kid sets in front of him a small meal, on the house.
it always was, because after all, “that’s what friends do!”

“where’ve ya been the last few months anyway?” they ask, taking a moment’s
break from work.

“oh, just traveling out west for a bit. sight seeing and all. would have liked to
be out there a little longer, but,” i had to come back to bless your harvest,
“local plants, you know. allergies.”

“makes sense.”

[Cyrano]

-

[Niyaru Delacroix]

username: Niyaru Delacroix
kalon name: Noga
secret: Noga's secret is that he is the lead singer for a visual kei band named Delacroix.

[Grey_Hoodie]

username: Grey_Hoodie
kalon name: Madigan
secret: [700/700]

In the eyes of his people, Madigan was undeniably a hero ripped straight out of a storybook. He protected the weak, cared for the ill and provided opportunities of wealth to those most in need of it. There was no place, even at the far reaches of the kingdom, that did not know of his valiant deeds and did not feel the effect of his good intent. He was never swayed by evil, never tempted by riches and glory – he stood forever and always by his people. And they never appreciated that more than whenever they were struck with the terror and destruction associated with Masked Crimson.

The clashing of weapons, the slashing of skin and bruising of bones, the vile curses spewing over the lips of the enemy – it was a violent, horrifying affair. Masked Crimson always arrived deep in the night, storming the cities by surprise with an evil glint in her eyes and the familiar sickening mockery of a bouquet formed by flame secured in her hand. Civilians were trapped within the walls of swirling firestorms, stuck watching at their homes crumbled to ash around them. Livestock was slaughtered and valuables were ripped away to pawned off later. Hope was a fleeting thing in the wake of Masked Crimson’s villainy, but their hero always arrived in time to engage her before it was too late. Madigan would scare off her soldiers, right the wrongs committed and offer the aid they so desperately needed to get back up on their feet.

- - -

Masked Crimson would be tossed away to pass the days beneath the walls of a secure dungeon, watching the changing seasons fly by through the bars of her cell. Madigan had ensured that the criminal’s punishments never crossed the line into execution, but the people had been growing antsy for a while now, with each year passing and the terror still never-ending. It wasn’t for pity that he kept her alive, but rather his own insatiable greed for the game to continue. For the terrifying villain to rise again, and for the valiant knight to come to the rescue, rewarded with the intoxicating feeling of victory and the praise of the people. Finally, he’d found a worthy opponent that could boil his blood and ignite his passion for battle. It was exhilarating! And he wasn’t going to let it end.

He was running out of time, though. He needed another scapegoat. It wasn’t difficult to pull the necessary strings to keep things as they should be, as they had always been. The people flocked to Madigan, and the gullible were put to work. Without a face connected to the infamous name, it was easy to masquerade another one of those insufferable civilians as the people’s notorious villain.

Rumors were never his forte, but they were always of use and worked stronger than he’d ever assumed they would. They spread like wildfire -- all-consuming and unrelenting -- hidden behind the palms of the lowliest servant to the highest elites. From mouth to ear, the words blitzed off into fiery sparks, burning low in the back of the people’s minds. Whatever collective idea they’d come up with would continue to let off plumes of smokes, always teasing promise of a savage blaze eager to wreak havoc, always ready to unleash itself with one single command from Madigan.

Tossed down and unmasked before the people, the villain might try to talk their way out of it, might try and convince the others that they were framed. But every ounce of information that had been fed to the people only strengthened their resolve more, to send off this traitor and any more that followed them. Hatred seeped through the air, flooding into Madigan’s system and fueling his prideful expression for once more taking down the villain. The game would reset again, repeat again – Masked Crimson would appear once more by some corrupted miracle, eager to play out her revenge.

They would never know Madigan’s faults, that their lives would forever be trapped in misery because of him. Crimson herself would remain clueless. He would selfishly keep the game going – collateral damage be damned – until the day he died.

[Broccoli_Bento]

.

Username: Broccoli_Bento

Kalon's name: Kingston


Secret:

Kingston is the king of the licorice kingdom.

His father the king of the licorice kingdom, King Schwartz, adopted him as a baby who was abandoned.
Kingston hasn't told a soul outside of his home kingdom that he was the prince, as nobody cares for licorice, and the forgotten and banished live there.

He adopted the name Kingston after his seventeenth birthday to hide his identity from the world.
In his kingdom he goes by his real name, Elias.
Why he chose Kingston to replace his name to hide his identity, was because nobody would guess him to be Prince or King Kingston, for it doesn't sound so well together.

He never got to be anything other than the licorice prince until his seventeenth birthday, two months after his father the king died and left the throne to him as his successor.
As the new king of the licorice kingdom, he at least hadn't much for royal responsibilities as there were no wars and the people who lived in the kingdom were kind and caring for one another, as they have better quality of life there than other kingdoms in the surrounding lands.

He now lives a double life as King Elias Schwartz of the licorice kingdom, and as Kingston Holley the wanderer of the wheat fields (a commonplace).
He will protect his people, but he will also live his life outside of the palace walls and see the world around him.
As Kingston Holley he can be someone important without someone instantly shaming him for being from the licorice kingdom.
He lives a happy life with better knowledge of the surrounding kingdoms, and steadily tries to bring the hate and distrust of his kingdom to an end so that one day his people can be excepted as regular people.

[300/300]

Extra #1

Likes:
Apples, biscuits, cheese, piercings, plants, making wheat and flower crowns, traveling, coffee, to sing and hum, eagles, fireworks, pop-up books, puzzles, and sweet potato pie.


Dislikes:
Tea, pineapple, his singing voice, dozens of birds chirping at once, monkeys, yogurt, hiding his identity, painting, crepes.


Hobbies:
Gardening, baking, collecting pressed flowers, knitting, drawing landscapes.


Other:
Can't whistle, is ambidextrous, he can play the piano, sings very well, he has fourteen pets.

• five out of fourteen of his pets are male, the other eleven are female.

• His pets names are:
- - -
Penny - (pug)
Jaxson - (husky)
Ruth - (black fruit bat)
Bailey - (black fruit bat)
- - -
Eagles:
1. Ariana - (african fish eagle)
2. Marley - (golden eagle)
3. Angel - (harpy eagle)
4. Carol - (crowned eagle)
5. David - (wedge-tailed eagle)
6. Sterling - (greater spotted eagle)
7. Karlos - (wedge-tailed eagle)
8. Karen - (wedge-tailed eagle)
9. Milly - (white-bellied sea eagle)
10. Fiona - (verreaux's eagle)
11. Olivia - (golden eagle)
12. Xavier - (greater spotted eagle)

[178/200]

Extra #2

Things about him:

• He treats his castle staff just like family.

• He helps find jobs for people within his kingdom that best suit them, to help them have better and happier lives.

• He has a standard education and went to school with kids of commoner status.

• As Kingston, he was given the title "wanderer of the wheat fields" because he was found wandering lost in the wheat fields for hours.

• When he was a kit he loved to sing, but was terribly at it. Now he sings really well.

• He is known to melt the hearts of those who listen to him play the piano while he sings. His voice is great for ceremonial songs.

• He is an expert with eagles just like his father.
It is tradition for each licorice royal family member to learn to tame and care for eagles.
The kingdom hasn't been without a royal eagle for it's whole existence.
He often attracts wild eagles because of his relationship with his own eagles.

• He's never met any royal officials as King Elias of the licorice kingdom, but has met two kings and many nobles as Kingston the commoner.

[200/200]

.

[malaise]

username: malaise
kalon name: Fennell
secret: [666/700 words] (300 + 2 extra)
There’s something seemingly delicate and fragile in the way Fennell holds himself. Gloved hands constantly dancing away from the smallest of touches, tipping and leaning out of his co-worker’s way before they can brush up against him. Always, a hint of a smile teases those watching him for long enough, but his eyes are distant- briefly glancing at the faces of those who pass by and turning frigid when believes he’s free from glancing eyes.

“There’s something wrong with him.” His teachers and peers have whispered behind his back countless times before, following him until he became another face that blended into the crowd; his quietness and gentle placating face allowing him to shy away from the spotlight. On the surface the occasional glimpses of warmth showing on his face would tempt others closer to him, but Fennell has always been sparse with his words, much less personal information to allow others close.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to let others near though.

It’s just difficult when there’s so much on the line.

[✷]

There’s soot under his feet again. He can feel ash landing on his arm and peppering his skin with little spots of grey. Around him, plumes of smoke threatens to choke him, the heat of the flames licking a little too close to his clothes for comfort. For once in his life, he is surrounded by pure silence- only the crackling of embers as buildings and the dirt continues to be consumed by the fire. There’s a moment of fear pounding through him as he calls out for anyone, for someone else to call back to him and reassure him, yet nothing heeds his prayers.

He’s been here before.

He’s running now, through the desolate streets, holding back another shout but his eyes are actively flitting from burning wreckage to the next pile of rubbage, looking for any signs of life. Recognition tickles his hind brain: it feels as if he’s been here before. It doesn’t stop him from falling to his knees, the heated gravel leaving red marks on his knees as he claws into the dirt. His perfectly held together image is crumbling now, there are tears streaking down his cheeks as he presses his bloody and dirty hands against his chest in an attempt to steady his breathing.

Something in his mind is trying to pull him away from the destruction around him, as the universe begins to quiver and wake around him. The earth pulls away from itself as he mourns with a heaving chest and watery eyes, he blinks the water away as he begins to sob openly, closing his eyes to the planet crumbling around him.

“You’ll always be alone. Why don’t you give up? Come home.”

The universe croons to him, echoing in the hallows of space. Darkness is enclosing him in an overly familiar manner, none of the noises he makes reach his own ears. There’s nothing he can do as he quivers in his spot, but his thoughts continue to race at a hundred miles per hour. Alone like this, it’s just him and his thoughts. A reminder of how things were before.

[✷]

Someone bumping into him snaps him out of his thoughts, jolting him from the place his mind was stuck in. He dazedly notes his co-worker apologizing before pausing and getting closer. Concern is shown in their eyes as they slowly herd him to a more private spot in the back, “Are you alright? You look a little pale, do you need to take your break?” They ask as they reach out to steady his shaking hand.

Fennell smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. His muscles twitch, and for a moment it looks as if he wants to do nothing more then to tear away and flee. Instead, he lightly squeezes his co-workers hand, then forces himself to relax and resettle his mask.

“I’m all good. Don’t worry.”

“Everything is different now,” is left unsaid. A silent promise to himself.

[saturnus]

hey everyone!! hope everyone had a relaxing holiday ^q^
there were so many great forms!! loved reading about everyones hot takes on ths kals secret

it was really hard to choose a winner but congrats 76heart
your writing is phenomenal! i love tarot in general and the application of them in your form is so clever ^q^
your writing is also so pleasingly stylistic and everything worked together perfectly!

also! an ru for nierhand
love the concept of an old god, your writing is also very descriptive and i felt like it really brought me there

another ru for rainichi
the beginning really got me. love that. hooked me right in im big big fan


and some hms for:
✦ nemuri
ruse
moondust405
qpple
foxxbreath
sentimental_android
nosebleeds
malaise

thanks to everyone who participated love u

[nermal1999]

Congratulations everyone :3

I can't believe that there were 2 RUs
That absolutely amazing! Can't wait to see what they look like.

Thank you saturnus for the opportunity.