[Maringue]

┏━━━━ ★ ━━━━┓

Hello!
I'm super excited for my guest trial and can't wait to see what I create for everyone! <3

For this Kalon, I really wanted to work with colors outside of my comfort zone,
and I think they turned out beautiful~

(nr) sclera
(s) hair, shine
(c) tail

To win this Kalon, tell me why they are crying.
You can use up to 750 words or 1 art piece.
Feel free to pretty up your form, but please remember to include your source for any image(s)/gif(s).

Code: Select all

Username + ID:
Name:
Prompt:


Ends March 16th at 11:59 pm PST


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[☼ morgana]

Username + ID: morgana 1012721
Name: Sepulchria
Prompt:
┌─────────────────────────────────────── ✦༻✧༺✦ ────────────────────────────────────────┐

Many oft wonder what it's like to be the goddess of sorrow.


To constantly feel the sting of rejection.
To constantly know grief.
To frequent the depths of despair.
To traverse sorrow and tragedy.

One must wonder how she survives with it all. The weight of her realm's sorrows, resting squarely on her shoulders.
But she would tell you that she carries it with a grace only afforded to goddesses. She knows that she exists because all gods and goddesses have purposes - for they would not exist without them.

But like every coin - Sepulchria has two sides. She may bare the weight of sorrow for eternity, as immortals are wont to do.


She feels so deeply every loss.
She feels so hurt by every betrayal.
She feels so lost by every traipse through the depths of despair.

But she also bares a face of comfort.

Devotion to her is shown often in gentle whispers - "Sepulchria keep you in this difficult time". It had been some time since she felt a need to visit the mortal coil. But this one called to her, gentle, lulling, guiding her to a kingdom awash in grief. She also felt the sting of betrayal there too, though it was not as gentle as the grief and sorrow, and felt like pinpricks, the feeling hanging in the air.

According to signage all about the streets, today was a royal funeral, and it was public. The surrounding whispers mentioned her name countless times, everyone there dressed in mourning attire, all in the castle courtyard.

A closed casket was displayed in front of the castle doors, where a beautiful Queen in mourning clothes stood next to it. She cast a spell on her voice so that it was louder. The crowd grew silent.

"We are gathered here today to celebrate the life of our King." the Queen did not stutter, but you could hear the wavering in her voice. "Our King was an amazing husband, father, and man. Who we once thought were our allies took him from us," she continued. Her three children, all of varying ages, clung to her side, weeping into her dress.

There it was, the weight of betrayal hung heavier in the air. A King killed, a tragedy struck, a blow dealt. A kingdom on its knees.

"Our King would not want us to grieve him. But to continue to walk our paths in the kindness and empathy he had for his subjects. Extend that to those around you. We must stand up against our enemies in the face of adversity. We must stand together in the face of tragedy. This Kingdom will rise from its knees." The Queen continued, rallying her subjects.

"We must be brave." She ended, finally allowing her tears to streak her cheeks. She took a moment to wipe them away before dismissing the crowd. "Sepulchria keep you," she said to them. The crowd echoed her wish back to her.

Sepulchria is often the face of comfort in people's despair, trauma, grief, loss, and sorrow. And as such, she weeps for them, and quite literally so. And now, she had a job to do.

She watched as the casket was carried inside the castle chapel, where the private funeral would be held. Behind closed doors the Queen wept. On her knees at the King's casket, sobs bellowed out from her. Sepulchria was invisible to mortals, even so, she approached the Queen quietly and gently anyway. She sat down next to the grief stricken Queen. Ever so gently, Sepulchria placed her head on top of hers in a form of quiet embrace.

"Blessing upon you, my dear," Sepulchria said in a hushed tone, so as not to frighten the Queen, even if she couldn't hear her. "Allow me to take upon myself this burden." She said in reverence, tears now flowing freely down Sepulchria's face. "You will get through this night." Sepulchria blessed the Queen with strength, and gave a similar one to her children.

"Thank you, Sepulchria." the Queen said, feeling her presence.

In a breathy exhale, Sepulchria departed, leaving the Queen to mourn, returning to her immortal coil with a sob on her lips, the Queen's despair heavy in her heart.

[703/750]
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[boogiebug]

｡･:*˚:✧｡ username+id ✧ boogiebug#1118796

｡･:*˚:✧｡ name ✧ Melancholy

｡･:*˚:✧｡ prompt ✧


｡ ₊°༺❤︎༻°₊ ｡

Melancholy wasn't always a being of the swamp.
instead, she imagines she had a happy life before her current curse.

a curse of being unable to remember anything about her past life except poor snippets.

snippets of laughter, snippets of children and friends surrounding her in her community.
happy thoughts.

now instead, she was connected to the swamp.
she blamed the swamp.
who else's fault could it be?
she would not have chosen to become one with the swamp.
it was dark and foreboding; full of mystery and danger.
she was a quiet soul, not one to want to be around such a scary place.

so she wept.
she would cry for hours, day and night as the swamp became restless.
for she had become the swamp, and the swamp became her.
a place she cannot leave, a place of nothing but heartache.
this place was far more than scary, as she cannot catch a glimpse of sleep
without hearing heart wrenching wails and cries ringing throughout her head.

when she was awake to try and remember, her brain was flooded with short memories of
joy, nothing but it.
however, when she tried to rest, those memories instead became violent and filled with anguish.

Melancholy did not know why.
for she couldn't remember.
she was cursed; cursed with never remembering enough.

that was until she caught a glimpse, a glimpse of a face.
an angry face.
her own face, angry and desperate;
because she was not cursed to be here, no, not by her own hands at least.
instead, she saw a clouded figure above her as the swamp water thrashed and splashed about.
a struggle ensued, one in which she did not succeed.

someone, some...some beast disguised as a person cursed her and all her remaining days to become
one with the swamp.
she would not forgive them, no.
for now, she was no longer crying in sadness.

she was just filled with unending rage, rage that poured out in tears which she could not contain.

｡ ₊°༺❤︎༻°₊ ｡

[ellyenchanted]

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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxUsername + ID: ellyenchanted + 342495
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxName: Narcissa

Prompt: The Warden of the Wood never strayed far from her forest, but word had
traveled from a few towns over of a supernatural disturbance in the underground
cave system that ran underneath hundreds of acres of land. The village closest to the
cave mouth often claimed of evil presences that came from the darkness. Morgana
was certain that is was merely superstition, but the least she could do was give it a
thorough investigation, just in case.

A glowing orb hovered before her, lighting her way through the tunnel. She was well
below the surface now. For the first hour, she trudged forward, letting her senses
adjust to the damp, musty air. Nothing seemed amiss in the beginning, no spikes in
energy or physical evidence the monster the village folk claimed.

Then, an odd noise prickled at Morgana's ears. To her shock and confusion, it sounded
much like crying. The soft sobs rose in volume the further she ventured. Who had
come this far, and what were they doing? She still could sense no magic in the area,
or she would have been more cautious. Eventually, her winding tunnel emptied into
a much larger cavern. And there, right in the center, sat a young woman.

Morgana's orb illuminated the woman, who's hair spilled out around her, practically
pooling at her feet. Her wails had quieted a bit, and she spun around, roughly
wiping at her cheeks with her forearms. Morgana sighed, this was no phantom or
supernatural monster.

In an attempt to come off nonthreateningly, Morgana held out her hands in a
placating motion. "I'm sorry for disturbing you, but can I ask what you are doing
here?"

"I can't find my way back!" the woman cried. "It's dark and I am just so lost."

Morgana tried to give her a reassuring smile, "I understand, its easy to get turned
around down here. Don't worry, I am here to help. What is your name?"

"Narcissa," she sniffed, rising from her spot on the ground and wandering a few steps
forward. "Are you truly here to help?"

"Yes, of course," Morgana replied as she took the last steps to close the distance
between them. She held out her hand.

Narcissa sighed, and the tears that streamed down her cheeks slowed to a stop. "I
wish you weren't. It's always easier when they come with malice." The strange
woman darted forward so fast Morgana barely had the chance to blink. Narcissa
grasped her outstretched hand, and she was instantly overcome with an
indescribable feeling. Horror, fear, and grief ripped through her nervous system.

As her mind spiraled into the dark, she couldn't help but think, what a clever trick.

[447 words]

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[WitchHazel]

ooh mark!

[SilhouetteStation]

mark

they are STUNNING

[Pandacat101]

Username + ID: Pandacat101 587535
Name: Keres (Is greek for death-spirit)
Prompt:

Keres learned when she was only a kit that she was different. No other Kal could hear the soft, desperate whispers filling the air with their suffocating embrace. As she got older, her powers grew, and the whispers grew clearer. She learned that they weren't just whispers; they were the pleas of Kalons who died before their time.

These Kalons desired something whether that meant revenge against one who wronged them or maybe to say goodbye to a loved one, they all wanted Keres to complete it for them. She thought it was harmless to help the dead, even when the elder Kalon's warned against it. At first it was simple, a young Kalon kit who had been born weak wanted Keres to tell her parents that it wasn't their fault she had been sick and that she loved them. Next a Kalon that wanted to make sure his prized pet parrot had a loving new owner. Before long the spirits who had been tainted by remaining in this world too long after death started to flood in. All of these spirits had strong negative emotions and Keres being young couldn't recognize the signs of the corruption. She would refuse any request that would harm another Kalon but these spirits were too desperate and had become cunning, they wanted to trick her. It was then a young Kalon came requesting her services. He wanted to make his love's favorite dish for him one last time. Keres spent days learning how to cook the dish under his tutelage, wanting it to be perfect for the grief-stricken lovers. She wrote a letter to the Kal explaining who she was and why she wanted to meet him.

As she walked out with the dish the other Kalon's eyes lit up with delight before turning somber, the grief overshadowing the joy even all these years later. She set the plate down in front of him holding her breath while he took his first bite. At first it was just one tear then came a flood, he wept while he devoured the food. Then came the wide eyes and the cough.
"Are you alright?"
"Are you crazy? I thought you said you were here to help me, that Wintley had spoken to you!" He sputtered out before collapsing.
"Of course I'm trying to help you!" She whipped around ready to rush into the kitchen for a glass of water but as she turned she heard the laugh flood the room. "Why are you laughing? The love of your life just collapsed on the ground!"
"Love of my life? Yes, he used to be before he left me to die under a pile of rubble. There was an earthquake and one of the beams that held up the roof came down on top of me, pinning me down. Do you know what my great love did? He took one look at me and just ran leaving me there. I didn't die from the beam I died from starvation! Which gave me plenty of time to grow my hate and plot my revenge."
"Oh god, what did you make me do!?" She cried desperately turning to the Kalon who was now still.
"He's allergic to peanuts, the original recipe uses vegetable oil, not peanut oil. He never could remember to keep his EpiPen on him." The calm triumphant voice shook Keres to her core. She saw the glow cast over her that signaled a soul departing but couldn't get herself to turn around. She just stared at the now still body in front of her. Movement caught her eye and she leaped up in joy, maybe this had all been a big understanding and she hadn't just caused the death of another Kal. But her hopes were not to be answered as she watched the spirit of the Kal rise from the body, his face full of anger. His request was her death.

She now refused all requests from the dead, no matter how pure they were. But the requests were no longer whispers, now, they were screams. These screams haunted her constantly, there was no way to escape them. Now her face is always streaked with tears filled with her grief at what she had done as well as the grief of all the Kals whose screams followed her. Including the one that always begged for her death.

(732/750)

[catyclaws]

omg gorgeous. mark !!

[EchoIre]

Mark!

[honeysick]

Mark c: