[cherubim]

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username. vogelbiene name. aenon gender. male connection. to the lighthouse
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The off-white lighthouse that stood upon the rocks of Circadia Coast was a place of solitude; 
it was connected to the edge of the beach by a singular metal bridge, rusted and brittle, and 
high above Circadia itself, and far enough from it, making it difficult for any curious kalon to 
come exploring. Not that anyone wanted to, anyway - the lady that lived there was a scary, 
threatening one that hated company of any kind. Even if she had passed a few years back, 
some liked to think that her spirit haunted the place. 

It was a perfect hideout.

-

Aenon doesn't know a lot, not considering himself a scholar by any means, but one thing he 
does know is this - this lighthouse is calling him. It's luring him in, stark colour against the 
slowly-darkening overcast sky staring him down. The kalon isn't going to lie, he feels 
connected to it, as though it were a part of him. 



How he found this place was sheer luck on Aenon's behalf, especially since he hadn't even 
known his great grandmother. It was whilst he was busy packing his goods in a late-night 
escape, poking around in the dusty attic for some sort of blanket to help keep him warm. 
Instead, he found a simple postcard, withered and crumpled, tinged brown at the edges and 
writing slightly faded from age. It read of an apology to his father (? who was his father 
anymore?) and a parting sentence holding the address of what seemed to be a coastal house.
 
At least, that's what Aenon thought at the time, considering the postcard was filled with 
images of quaint beach houses. 

He fumbled through his trench-coat pockets now, paws blindly feeling for the weathered card, 
before pulling it out and examining it once more. Yes, this was the address. Huffing, he trudged 
his way to the lighthouse, hoping for shelter and a place to stay, away from his family. (They 
were out to get him.)

---

log date 22|04|20XX timestamp 21:09
it has been approximately two weeks since I have found a refuge withi
n my distant grandmother's lighthouse. It is cold at night and I have lit
tle to no supplies left. I may have to face the outside world for suppli
es soon, but I risk being seen, or even caught. I must tread carefully. I 
do not ever want to be found by them.

Aenon rarely thought of his family, but he supposed that was to be expe
cted. He was the youngest out of the four children, and was often negle
cted. (If he were in his right mind, he would know he was loved.) He felt 
as though he had no one, nothing to depend on; to confide in. Sure, he 
was a reclusive little kit and tended to avoid majority of his family, but 
they could have approached him first, right?

---

(They did, and he pushed them away. They would leave him eventually.
Maybe that's why he's attached to a lighthouse with the delusion it was sentient.)

-

It had been three weeks since Aenon had set up camp within the lighthouse, and the kalon 
was growing evermore paranoid by the day. It wouldn't be long until they found him.

The soft swell of waves snapped Aenon out of the trance he had placed himself under, 
calming him. It was as though the lighthouse knew of his worries, and knew how to comfort 
him. He smiled softly, murmuring a soft ‘thank you’ to the large building, placing a blue 
paw on the white concrete wall. 

Aenon had formed quite the bond with the lighthouse in those few weeks; he talked to the 
lighthouse (and the lighthouse talked back), caressed it's rough walls (in return he had 
comfort and warmth) and made sure that it was clean and untouched, gently cooing to it 
all the while (which never went unnoticed). He felt as though it were a living, breathing 
organism, not just a simple building. It was his friend, his family, his saviour. It had provided 
everything he could have ever wanted, as well as become a constant within his life. He 
would never allow it to leave him.

[Meduz]

Probably dropping out. Haven't really got an idea, it's a shame because they're so beautiful

[sunnyfaerie]

username;;
sunnyfaerie
name;;
meno
gender;;
female
their object & connection to it;;
ah, that wonderful little beat.

in sweet mornings, sunlight filtering through old lacy curtains, she'd hear that soft little click after click, a mechanical mimic of the waking birds; in darkening afternoons, it'd accompany the tune of the rocking chair and turning pages, ticking with murmurs of conversation hanging in the humid air.

"tell me a story, papa?"

there'd always be that click-click-click behind the warm response of a chuckle or a familiar sigh, or the tuneless music would sift over the breeze that filled the occasional silence. she always remembered the homely sights around her; houseplants doused in warm light, the curtains pulled open to showcase the skies above the dull rooftops, the comfortable, traditional decorations and furniture surrounding her... why, she couldn't replace it if she tried.

and she tried.

"why's it on so often, anyways?"

did she ever get a clear answer to that question? not quite, but she knew enough. papa always either laughed - oh, that wonderful, tender laugh, how she cherished it so - or simply said he liked it, and that was all. he did say other things, though. he used to be a "one man band in the making- a young virtuoso hidden within this old shell, if you will"; those little clicks were his friend. through thick and thin, he had said, it had been there for him. he never ended up making it to a stage, though; his impressiveness sunk with his age, and his confidence had been killed early with disapproval. it never really lasted.

nothing really lasted, anyways.

... sometimes there wouldn't be conversation. sometimes it would be a throat clearing, and then a soft tune beginning to float, a croaky voice spinning a low melody; perhaps even a few strums would accompany it, and always, that faithful ticking would be there. frequently, she'd hum along, and, if she knew the lyrics (which she often did- she loved hearing that voice and listened oh-so-closely), she'd sometimes sing along. they made a good combination, their duets a harmony of sweet youth and ancient undertones. sometimes, when she was home alone, she'd start crooning a little tune to pass the time or bat away her fears.

she always sings alone now. a one man band...? god, she misses that joke.

... perhaps not alone. she... still has the metronome with her. she couldn't bear to look at anything else after the funeral, but that little beat- she needed it. it was her clutch on her memories, the only connection she had left. it was a treasure to her.

... god, that's so cheesy- not cheesy, even, just plainly pathetic. for god's sake, the only thing she could trust was a metronome! some dusty, old clicker was her only comfort in her crumbling life-...

it really was her only comfort. everything around her just seemed to collapse; she was in debt, her mother hadn't spoken to her in over a decade, she was lonely, she had lost her passion, her education and careers were worth close to nothing, she- well, she was a disaster! a pathetic disaster, sitting back and watching everything around her sink into failure!...

it really gets to her sometimes. well, not only sometimes- more like, say, every night.

but... there's always that little click after click. even in chaos that threatens to drown her in the cruelties of life, there's something familiar. something comforting. something she used to hear every night and smile at.

she'll meander through the messy art supplies and trinkets of her tiny, crowded apartment, the blinds of her little window shuttered open- she can see a sliver of the sky beyond dirty, monotone walls. she'll sit down in her arm chair, hoping by some power to hear that rocking chair creak for just a split second, please- she'll sigh and pick up her tacky yellow ukulele.

and she lets that little click-click-clicking tempo come alive.

and the birds, the skies, the conversations, the rocking chair, the plants, the light- they all come alive for a moment. she begins her soft strumming, her voice sweet, youthful, and croaky with memories welling up within.

but she's able to smile. she's not alone.

[justamindset]

username;; DragonOfEmber
name;; Farraugh
gender; Female
art {optional} Wip
their object & connection to it ;

Farraugh always carries around a small coin with an angel on one side and the words "Each day and all night through, A guardian angel is watching over you." on the other side. This coin was given to her on the day their grandmother died, as her grandmother was the only family she had left. It is a constant reminder that although her grandmother is gone, she's still watching, and guiding quietly from the sidelines.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

"Farraugh?" Nyx spoke behind her as she bowed her head in front of the gravestone that marked her grandmother's grave. It had been a week since her grandmother had passed away, and the pain in her heart felt like it was tearing the organ to shreds. "Farraugh, it's time to go to the celebration."

Farraugh turned around, wiping her eyes. "Nyx, I don't think I can go. It's too early to celebrate." She told her friend as she fingered the coin in her paw. She knew the engravings off by heart, knew the feel of them to a tee. "it's only been a week."

"All the more reason for you to go, Farraugh, love. She would want you there." Nyx told her softly, putting a paw on her shoulder. "Come on, I'll be by your side the whole time.

Farraugh finally relented, letting Nyx lead her to the carriage that was waiting. She slipped the coin into the secret pocket in the band holding her hair, so it was as close to her as possible. The band hovered at about her shoulder, and it made it feel like her grandmother was an angel on her shoulder. She sniffled, stepping up into wooden cabin of their ride.

Farraugh looked out her window at the sky, her breath catching as she swore she saw a flash of light in the shape of wings hovering above her, a sense of peace and love filling her heart as the shape nodded it's head before fading back into the gentle blue of the sky.

"I miss you, grandma." She whispered, the sound no louder than a breath. "I love you so much."

And the little angel on her shoulder murmured, "I love you too, my darling."

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Farraugh pulled out the coin, twirling it gently in her paw as she remembered that day. Her coin represented the angel she swore she heard, symbolized the angel she'd felt on her shoulder, and from that day forth, she spent her time doing little good deeds for those around her, making her angel proud.

[Jippy]

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________
username;; Dreamlight || name;; Adrien Ray || gender; male
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________
art {optional}
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________
their object & connection to it ;
A golden wreath crown. Well you see, my grandmother wasn’t your sweet, I like baking cookies, and knitting grandma, she was quite extraordinary to say the least. I remember helping her explore the attic, we’d go on imaginary expeditions and she’d tell me stories of every object I found. We’d been searching for a while in the old boxes with a lit candle, when I noticed a small sparkle in the distance. Parkouring over lamps and old couches, I revealed a golden wreath crown.

“Grandma look!”

“Ray stop slouching! What is it, bring it over, you know it’s impossible to see in this dark!”

I was used to her complaints by now, straightening my back as if an instinct and making my way slowly back. She held up the crown to the light and I saw her face break into smiles at the sight of it.

“Why, I’ll be dipped in green tea, if it isn’t the birthday present your uncle gave me, I knew it had to be here somewhere. Why that was my favorite gift I’d ever gotten, it was inspired by the water sparkling in the sunset, I’d always take a walk by the lake during the evenings, releasing my stress by staring at the serene scene. Stop slouching Ray. That day he told me, wear this when your on top of the world, and shine brighter then the sun....

“Uh so does that mean you climbed a mountain? Exactly how warm were you? Could you cook bacon and eggs with your body heat?”

“You and your thousand questions...” she mumbled

She muttered something about not drinking enough soy milk before taking the crown and climbing down the attic ladder. I stood in confusion before she beckoned me to follow.

On the way out we saw my brother who was being lazy and tossed his apple core on the floor. In a flash, he was lying on his butt. My grandmother could wield a broom like a mace and was as skilled as a warrior, she was as fit as could be. I laughed at him as he grinned at me, with a broom in hand, she was an unstoppable force, and I mean it.

She lead me down the road, the sun was beginning to set, splashing colors across the sky. Soon we reached a lake, for a while we stood by the edge, watching the water in silence. She was right, it did seem to glow as bright as the crown. Suddenly, she gently placed it in my hands.

“Here Ray, take it, do me a favor and wear it the day you... are on top of the world, the day when no one can bring you down, wear it with joy and happiness that you might outshine the sun and the whole galaxy.”

I had no idea what she meant at the time, I took it and looked at her, more puzzled then ever.

I frowned, “but grandma, I don’t deserve this!”

“Your right, you don’t! But I hope you will one day, now stop frowning, you’ll get wrinkles.”

Now I understand what she meant, her true motives behind the endless discipline, the crown means the world to me as it is a gift I hold deep to my heart, not because it’s gold, but because of the goal I have yet to achieve. One day I will shine as bright as can be and I will be able to finally wear the crown with the dignity my grandmother wanted me to.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

[Unleashed Squiid]

Oh wow gorgeous!

[Mysticalpup]

username;; mysticalpup
name;; Catmint
gender; male
art {optional} tba
their object & connection to it ; 700 words max tba

[kacchan]

username;;
name;;
gender;
art {optional}
their object & connection to it ; 700 words max

Possible mark

[lemm]

username;; carousel.
name;;
gender;
art {optional}
their object & connection to it ; 700 words max

[Softea]

username;; Softea
name;; Tae Min
gender;; Male

I didn’t count the title towards the word count, but the dates and everything else did
their object & connection to it ;

ＴＨＥ ＨＥＡＲＴ ＬＯＣＫＥＴ



Ｊｕｎｅ １６ｔｈ， １９６７

It’s feeling quite cold today in summer. There was a storm that had just gone by. The rain had left the grass quite wet and gross, there are tons of worms crawling around which cause me to recoil at their disgusting sight.
I am quite lonely as the rain passes, all on my own, after my love has left me. The pitter patter of the rain reminding me of the soft pitter patter of my darling’s quiet heart. Sometimes I can hear my own heart beating, there seems to be a hushed silence that lurks within the quiet beating noise.
My heart does hurt so much so.



Ｊｕｌｙ ２ｎｄ， １９６７

Listening to the birds chirp reminds me of her. I remember her soft white silk dress that would flow in the warm summer breeze, her sunhat shading her face from the harsh sun.
Of course, her laugh would drown out the birds. I would much rather listen to her laugh then those infernal chirping noises. Her gorgeous giggle that would sound throughout the flower field would always give me butterflies in my stomach.
Speaking of butterflies, I had one visit me today. It was a beautiful white color, reminding me of the pattern on my darling’s dress. The wings felt as soft as silk on my nose.
Such beauty shouldn’t be allowed to exist.



Ｊｕｌｙ １１ｔｈ， １９６７

I decided to get some ice cream today, it was really a decision I made on a whim, but they seemed to have flavors that I remembered quite well. It’s quite funny actually. Me and my darling would always argue on whether pecan ice cream was better, or walnut pistachio was better. Today I have decided. Her ice cream did taste much better than walnut pistachio.
When the warm breeze hit me, I realized my ice cream wasn’t lasting as long as I wanted.

Just like my darling love.



Ｊｕｌｙ ２１ｓｔ， １９６７

It’s raining today. It’s just a soft, light rain showering down from above. Now that I think of it, it was actually quite warm. The light blue, clear color as it falls to the ground reminds me of her. The puddles are quite fun to walk through. I know I sound like a kid, but we were kids together. We would go splashing around with our umbrellas and rain boots. Our bright yellow coats seeming to be the only color in the dark grey world. Although my hair was much shorter than, I have grown it out since then. It seemed to suit me better than a short wavy hairstyle.
Her short wavy hair was much better looking anyway.



Ａｕｇｕｓｔ １２ｔｈ， １９６７

She was the sweetest, cutest, most honest and kind hearted person I have ever met. She was modest, never agreeing with the compliment I would give her.
“You are beautiful” I would say, the surprising steadiness in my voice when I would compliment her.
She would not reply, but smile sweetly and look as if she was about to cry.
“I get lost in your sky colored eyes, my sweet” I would comment shyly as I tried to look her in the eye, but she would not look back, but instead stare off in the distance, pretending that I said nothing.
We would sit upon hills under trees and watch the sunset together, we would hold hands. You were perfect.
“I’m not perfect” you would say as you, for a time, would stare at me with defiance.
“You are perfect”



Ｓｅｐｔｅｍｂｅｒ ２６ｔｈ， １９６７

I don’t know when it happened, but she got sick. Really sick. She had begun to look ill, she fainted one day when we were sitting on our favorite hill.
Later, in the hospital, I noticed how sick she had gotten in the past hour. She was fragile, thin and most definitely broken inside. Something was wrong. Very wrong. It hurt my heart so much when she handed me her heart locket.
I knew it was over then.
It was too late to save her.

I later opened the heart locket, to reveal a picture of me and her.
She looked so happy.
But when I looked at the picture,
I was crying.

700/700 words