⟡ fox-n-key prompts ⟡

[Jagurz]

i dont own a floc. pep time
edit: sorry i drew them interacting with manmade objects AAA-

⟡ prompt 003 ⟡

username + id: quillflight 829064
entry:
i feel like pep would have that one, disgusting-looking, dirty, ugly ornament that they keep for no reason other than that they've had it forever.
y'know... like this.



that one ornament.

[rabbit...]

⟡ prompt 003 ⟡

username + id: rabbit... #45716
entry:
The raccoons say that Asra looks just like this sign and gifted one to him! It is now a prized possession.
xxx

[Niluna]

⟡ prompt 003 ⟡

username + id: Niluna #666048
entry: image link
It's a small, heart-shaped music box with a golden wind up key. Millie considers it amazing to have a short melody trapped inside it and is determined to figure out how to use it, not matter how impossible it is for her.

[allinian]

⟡ prompt 004 ⟡

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what does your floc’s personal keybox look like?

is it small, large, somewhere in-between?
is it an ornate, jewel-encrusted treasure chest or a completely ordinary cardboard box?
you decide!

feel free to draw or write about it (what it looks like, how it was made, why it became their box, etc.) !
if drawn, your floc should be included.


⟡ active until january 31th 11:59 pm cs time ⟡
⟡ please use this form to submit your entry:

Code: Select all

[list][b]⟡ prompt 004 ⟡[/b]

[size=85][b]username + id:[/b]
[b]entry:[/b]
[/size][/list]


⟡ how to find your cs id.

important floc information to keep in mind:
⟡ ⟡ flox levitate and never touch the ground. they can splash in water if they try hard enough.
⟡ ⟡ flox do not have a spoken language, and communicate through telepathy.
⟡ ⟡ they never make any verbal sounds but can think them.
⟡ ⟡ flox never open their eyes before awakening and see via telepathy.
⟡ ⟡ it is difficult for flox to use manmade objects because they have an animal form and cannot see.

accepted entries:
✓ = entered in bank = 20 tokens

✓ dr. paine 1280
✓ midnight tails 308233
✓ ~arokai*rokujo~ 328442
✓✓ rem sleep 224745
✓ glimmer. 91226
✓ bats 604943
✓✓ duskzehedgie 40030
✓✓ little fish 168591
✓.5 kitsune. 577255 (10 tokens, pattern used)

[Dr. Paine]

⟡ prompt 004 ⟡

username + id: Dr. Paine #1280
entry:




(Note- Paragon has not actually been named at this point in time!)

Now, he wasn't shocked by the delivery. Grandfather had been old, after all (older, Zephyr always thought, than he claimed to be), old and sickly in a way the doctors had never been able to pin, the healers had never been quite able to soothe. His entire life, Zephyr had always half expected it, but it simply encouraged his efforts to spend time with the old man, who'd always been eager to hear what plant Zephyr had been working on reviving, or what the crows were up to, all sorts of things that felt like childish babble when shared with anyone else, but became perfectly reasonable and important in their letters or talks. So admittedly- he expected there would be something, if and when his passing came, but little more than perhaps a couple of sentimental heirlooms.

That is all to say: Zephyr was neither surprised nor disappointed the day he received a parcel from his grandfather, and a letter from the executor of his estate.

The letter laid out on the kitchen counter, still mostly legible in the spaces not yet stained by tea rings. The package sat beside it, still taped up as securely as it had been when it arrived a week ago. Grandfather's passing wasn't a shock, no, and he didn't mind reading the letter. But the package... opening that would just make it- final? Yes, Zephyr thought, running a hand through his wild hair. It would make it all the more final, opening that up and finding... oh, whatever was in there, it would surely be what made the whole thing feel real. Grandfather had always been a collector of intriguing things, and Zephyr had always wanted to investigate the intriguing things, it seemed like that was the one thing he could ever do to upset the man- so he'd learned, very early on, to look and only look. To open it up, to see one of those things in his house, feel its weight in his hands... He shook his head, even trying to imagine it- already he felt that familiar tightness in his throat, a sting welling in his eyes.

And yet...
What would waiting accomplish?

He knew the impulse would fade as quickly as it came, so he snatched up the box, and by the time that other part of his mind screamed at him to stop, to leave it so that maybe he could send it back, undo it... well. The tape was already off, and Zephyr could see something poking out of the paper packing, a shiny dark corner-

"Of course you'd send this," he said, the words near lost to a shaky laugh. He carefully removed the smaller box, carrying it over to the table and setting it down. Of course it would be this- nothing else in the world had fascinated him as a child more than this box, always carefully centered on the fireplace mantle.

It wasn't overly large- perhaps not quite six inches tall, not quite nine long, solid wood save for the slightly tarnished golden hinges, key, and clasp. No lock- but he'd never been able to reach it as a child, and by the time he could, he'd known better than to try. He could nearly see his reflection in the dark, lacquered wood, and even now, he did as he had done so many times before: suppressed the urge to trace his fingers over the interlocked, delicate patterns of flowers and swirling petals and leaves, instead following them with his eyes... until impulse struck again, long enough for him to undo the clasp and lift the lid.

The song- he'd never seen the box open, but that tune- that rhythm had always been somewhere in the back of his mind, always bringing a measure of peace whenever he felt overwhelmed, always bringing him back to focus, he'd never quite been able to figure out where he had heard it. But it had always been at Grandfather's house, hadn't it? When he was on the verge of falling asleep, he'd hear it sometimes...

Another memory, long lost to the years, but yes- he'd hear this tune, and sometimes there was a scent-

Zephyr looked down, studying the box's contents. There was a small mirror set into the lid, surrounded by a bed of forget-me-nots carved so perfect they looked to be true blooms, even with their faded paint. The only visible sign of the mechanism was a slowly rotating- was that a fox? A little mahogany fox, yes, with a crown of tiny, sparkling blue chips around its head. The rest of the box was space- but not empty space, it was filled with sweet scented rose petals-

Blue rose petals. Zephyr's eyes widened and he reached for one, only to find there was something buried under the petals- something metal? He lifted it out, finding it to be a key- at least, he assumed it was a key, despite its... frankly bizarre shape. Even if it felt like metal, it looked like wood- and once he removed the paper curled around it, he saw the key displayed the same pattern as the box, all sorts of flowers and petals and leaves-

'I was beginning to worry you might never open that up.'

Zephyr startled, nearly dropping the key as he leapt to his feet. That voice-

'You don't need to worry, Zephyr- I'm a friend!' There again, simply... there, right in his brain! Of all the things-

And yet- he wondered if he ought to be more scared than he was. Already the initial shock was fading, and he felt the other party smiling- he couldn't place what exactly it was, a sensation that simply radiated delight, as the voice rang out again. 'I know- but this is how my kind speak, you see; I have been hoping so much you would pick up my key. Can't have a connection otherwise. I know this is sudden, and that it is a great deal to accept- but I was a friend of your grandfather's, Zephyr, and there are some things that he wished me to pass along to you...'







-wip-

[Midnight Tails]

⟡ prompt 004 ⟡

username + id: Midnight Tails 308233
entry:

At first glance it looks ornate, made of silver and white gold from the looks of it, sparkling ever so gently, but not dainty nor delicate looking, fairly robust. Quite small for a keybox too, but not too small. However this impression is wrong.
When you take a closer look, or if you're lucky, get to touch it, you realise its tacky. It doesn't *feel* right for that sort of precious metal, almost feels like plastic, or its decorations are hollow at the very least. Tapping it a couple times makes you realise it feels disingenuous, like a prettily wrapped up lie.
You realise its sides are partially made of glass too, carefully placed pieces of glass and reflective glass with silver coating underneath, to make it appear far shinier than it is, using light and reflection to take advantage.
Opening it again, feels like a treasure trove, more precious than you could ever imagine, hundreds of little gemstones piled up, glistening in their extravagance, rubies, topaz, sapphires, emeralds, opals, you name it, a multi-coloured array of everything you could ever want gemstone wise. a little dragon hoard if you will.
Laying lazily atop all this, barely able to fit from the amount, is a small silvery key.
You breathe in and peer in closer, and again you feel like something is not right, the way the light refracts of the gemstones feels...wrong somehow. You pick some up to examine them, and realise immediately a bunch are plastic.
Some feel real but you are now doubtful, is there anything genuine in this box at all? you wonder.
And what sort of floc did this even belong to anyway?
Disappointed you firmly shut the lid, whichever one it was, you didn't want to meet it. Any floc that had this for a keybox was for sure a liar and a cheapskate, and who knows what else. I'm not against working with corrupt flox, but I can already tell I would never be able to get on with this one.
They walk away, shaking their head as they go, never to have noticed that the box had a false bottom, nor the delicately engraved loopy writing spelling out the name Jareth.
Coming out of hiding, the owner of the box cautiously looks towards the way the man had gone.
I don't like the vibe that man gives off Jareth sniffed to himself, before lifting the box up into the air and going on his way, he had a lot to think about, not that he normally cared about this sort of thing, but his friend had been affected, and that pissed him off. Someone was going around taking people's keys and keyboxes, and Jareth needed to find out the who, why and where.
I will get those stolen keyboxes back he thought to himself, tail swishing angrily as he floated.
Normally one of the most naughty and malicious corrupt floc out there, but he had a weakness for his friends.
He'll regret touching my friend's precious things.

⟡ prompt 004 ⟡

username + id: Midnight Tails 308233
entry:

wip

[~Arokai*Rokujo~]

⟡ prompt 004 ⟡

username + id: ~Arokai*Rokujo~ 328442
entry:

When one hears "keybox," what springs to mind first? An ornate little thing, crusted in jewels and dazzling to the eye? Perhaps just a little wooden trunk, that lets out a melancholy series of chimes as you peer within. These are all perfect examples, but they hardly begin to explain the little oddity that is Cyrilla's own keybox.

Sitting quiet, unassuming, with a thin layer of dust that just barely conceals the sheen of the deep red mahogany. Its perfectly square and raised up several inches high, with an inch thick wood board just overhanging the edges, attached with obvious care to the base. The top is inset just a smidge, and along its front face is a series of black checkered squares. A chess board, atop an old wooden box. 15 magnetic pieces line either side of the board, black facing light in a very telling battle, foreboding even.

Just what could it compare to? It’s hard to say.

-

But a very prominent piece is missing from the light side. The king, master of checkmate and ruler of the grid.

If one were to flip the old rusted latch on the side and pry open the lid very gently, the inside would reveal a velvet red lining that glistens in the dappled light. Pale gold filigree metal dances along its inner corners, a bit of flare that seems odd for the old thing. Its worn and torn in some spots and seams, with the stuffing leaking partially into the cavity beneath the board-

The lid snaps shut with a harsh click, and a brunette girl leans down to meet you at eye level with a threatening smile.

"Seems you care for a game. Shall we play?" She declares, sitting down on the lighter side of the board. A challenge, and an obvious one at that. For you had been moments away from snooping about the girls most cherished possession- her most cherished friend. She carefully lifts the lid and retrieves her king, placing it with no small amount of gentleness into its castle.

And so you sit, hand hovering above a black pawn.
It slides forward two spaces, and the game begins.

It doesn't take long for the girl to pin your king, flicking the piece over in checkmate without a word. Within moments the girl lines all the pieces upright again, clutching the crowned white piece in her hands protectively.

"My name is Aliyah, and you should be going."

It’s a less of a cold statement, and more of a factual one. It seems time had really gotten away from you and the mysterious chessboard, and its secrets would never be revealed, and so you rise to walk away from the entire situation with more questions than answers.

It’s only as you're leaving that you cheekily turn to watch Aliyah return her piece to its rightful place, and peeking out from underneath its velvet throne within the boxes inner chamber you catch a glint of metal. A single key, larger than average, nestled within the innermost part of the center box, just barely concealed from sight.

"Cyrilla isn’t fond of strangers." Coos the girl after a moment, tracing her index finger along the trinket. Every movement is delicate, full of care as she dusts the chessboard off.

At a loss for words, you find yourself turning to leave the odd girl to her games.

[rem sleep]

⟡ prompt 004 ⟡

username + id: rem sleep #224745
entry:

baby solomon and his very simple, very modest keybox. a modest little box for a modest little boy.

⟡ prompt 004 ⟡

username + id: rem sleep #224745
entry:

lucifer has a very fancy, ornate keybox-- it matches his over-the-top personality, and his flare for the dramatic and eye-catching.

[Glimmer.]

⟡ prompt 004 ⟡

username + id: Glimmer. #91226
entry:
image link
Cielo’s keybox is nothing too special. It’s just a plain wooden box, painted to look like the sky.

[ophanimera]

⟡ prompt 004 ⟡

username + id: bats #604943
entry: The winter was harsh and the attic seemed abandoned. Wezen eyed the warm house enviously, and without a keybox, he had to carry his precious cargo by mouth. Wezen climbed up into the attic, through a passageway made by raccoons who had lived there before him. They had made their way into the residence out of the eyesight of prying humans and Wezen wanted out of the cold. The owner of the home was aware of the hole, but had forgotten about it, as the raccoons had moved on. Once in the attic, Wezen shook the snow off his fur and began the search for something warm to wrap around himself. The house was warmer, but the attic did not share the heat of the house’s interior.

Even though the attic seemed abandoned, the owner was just too elderly to reach the attic and her family saw no reason to climb up into it themselves. After all, it was storage for heirlooms, keepsakes, other meaningless knickknacks, and above all, dust. Dust covers laid over every available surface and cobwebs glanced up to the ceiling, in spite of no spiders being in sight. Laying his key down nearby, Wezen used his freed-up mouth to remove the dust cover from and pry open an unlocked, but hinge-rusted chest. He saw two things lying on top that piqued his interest. The first was a thick wool blanket, which he threw over his back and used his tail to flip it over his body.

The second was a box, and although ordinary at first glance, the intricate carved scenes on its surface intrigued Wezen. He pondered over it for a moment, and decided to take a look inside. After all, he did need a keybox and he didn’t have much room to be picky about how it looked. Opening the carved box revealed an assortment of letters and pictures, as well as a single ring, which Wezen dug out and discarded into the larger chest. He placed his key into the box, cementing the bond between the two, and put the lid back onto it.

It had a decent heft to it, but was not burdensome to carry about. Taking a closer look at the carvings, they depicted two humans dancing around and around the edges in circles for an infinite loop. The top was decorated with an intricate floral, but otherwise meaningless motif. In the center was a panel added later on, a relief carved from a photograph of the happy couple. It was made from elm, with a slate stain. None of this mattered to Wezen, nor could he be bothered to decipher the box’s meaning. It was his now, and it didn’t appear to him as though anyone would miss it. After all, with how dense the dust was up here, no one had seen the box in at least a decade, if not longer.

He eased the rusted chest back down to being closed once more and pulled the dust cover back over the top of it. He was happy to remain here, for now, hiding out of the snow and ice, although other flox and creatures of the Earth seemed to enjoy it.

Winter would come to pass eventually and Wezen took the box with him. The owner of the house also came to pass, and although the family of the dearly departed wondered where the box was spirited off to, they never saw it again.
(577 words)