[eel.]

username + link to partner’s entry: eel. + Ucanthandleme
fable name: Nora
prompt: [655 words]
“and then you sprinkle the ashes over the bones?”

Vincent sighed around the small urn he held in his mouth, and continued to let the ashes fall without dignifying his apprentice with an answer. had she been paying no attention in their studies? maybe we should be doing a spell to make her more attentive, he thought. it seems it may be more useful than any ghost I could ever conjure.

he set the urn down and stepped out of the circle, his chains clinking as he readjusted his wings. the moon chose that moment to peek out from behind the clouds, hanging low and red like the promise of blood.

“It’s…beautiful.” Nora looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with the moon’s red light. “so we start now?”

“as soon as the moon is fully visible.”

Nora shifted on her hooves, excited. she watched as the moonlight bathed the previously shaded ritual circle in red, causing the bones of the direwolf laid within to appear almost pink. Vincent had warned her against trying to summon the spirit of such a large beast for her first ritual, but she was sure she could control it. she’d make Vincent see. she’d make him proud.

the last few clouds slipped away from the moon.

“steel yourself,” Vincent said, his expression grave. if it weren’t for the white of his wings and the yellow of his eyes, he would be but a shadow.

Nora released a breath, and then started the chant Vincent had drilled into her head. she wouldn’t forget a word of it. not a single word.

her voice filled the clearing, soft and melodious, and Vincent’s joined it, his normal baritone sinking to a deeper bass.

the crickets fell silent. the wind picked up.

as their chanting grew in pitch, Nora couldn’t help but shiver. she swore she could hear drums in the distance, other voices chanting with theirs. Vincent, for his part, could pick out the faint soprano of his mentor, long since lost to the earth. one day, he supposed, when Nora taught her own apprentice the ways of the dead, she would hear his voice on the wind.

the materials sprinkled around the circle skittered towards the bones, creating tendons of tar and muscles of ash until the once-dead beast suddenly surged to its feet, its yellowing teeth snapping at the air, its eyes empty sockets of mist.

Nora’s breath escaped her. she’d done it.

The beast’s head slowly turned toward her.

“control it, Nora,” Vincent warned, but he sounded very far away.

Nora stared into its dead eyes, enraptured as it crept out of the circle and closer to her. it bared its fangs, its gums nothing but dirt, its ashy muscles coiling.

“no!” something dark slammed into the undead wolf as it sprang, scattering it back into ashes and bones. Nora snapped out of her trance and took a few startled steps away from Vincent, who was breathing hard. “control it,” he growled at her. he wasn’t going to lose his apprentice. “don’t let it control you.”

Nora looked back at the undead wolf, which had reassembled itself. it growled.

control it - yes. the beast stalked toward her. she didn’t back down, didn’t let its misty, empty eyes distract her. if she concentrated, she could feel the beast’s soul, could almost imagine herself in its body of ash and bone.

she closed her eyes. the snarling of the wolf got closer, and closer, and -

it barked. she cracked an eye open to see the wolf sitting with its head cocked to the side, its empty expression decidedly friendlier.

she’d done it. she’d actually done it!

she looked at Vincent, who gave her a short nod. she could almost swear she could see him wiping a relieved grin off of his face.

“good job,” he grunted, his voice gruff. “now let’s clean this up before anyone starts wondering where we are.”

[persimmon]

username + link to partner’s entry: persimmon + FluffyBirdie
fable name: Odette
prompt:

Scene for after the two fighting over the love potion leads to an unknown potion breaking and before the guards enter.
Note: Chibis in boxes at the top represent inner thoughts (pink-red: Odette & black: Elias).

[coolrat]

username + link to partner’s entry: coolrat & BouncyBrain
fable name: Bellus
prompt:

No one ever expected Bellus and Minax to become friends, least of all the two of them. As far as everyone knew, Bellus was cute and sweet, and would never spend a moment around the dark, brooding Minax. Everyone was proven wrong, however, when the two happened to run into each other.

Bellus was walking home, trying to not look as aggravated as she actually was. All day, minor annoyances had been building up: her tail got stepped on, her ribbons came untied, her skirt was wrinkled. Of course, her reputation demanded she just smile through it all and shrug off any transgressions. She knew if one more thing happened today, she was going to lose it.

Meanwhile, Minax was also walking home from the opposite direction. He’d just finished getting groceries and new paints. He didn’t like the looks he always got when he went out, but he figured people disliking him was better than someone actually trying to talk to him. His mind wandered to the shop clerk who’d tried to make small talk, and he mentally shriveled up in embarrassment over how he stumbled through the interaction.

The two of them were so lost in thought that they didn’t see the other approaching. In fact, they managed to walk straight into each other. Minax’s groceries and paint went flying, and Bellus was knocked to the ground, directly in their trajectory. Suffice to say, her skirt being wrinkled was the least of her worries.

“Watch where you’re going, you moron!” Bellus snarled before she could process the words leaving her mouth.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you, please don’t yell at me,” Minax said in one breath. He looked at her anxiously, eyes darting around before he simply took off, running towards his house.

Bellus watched him go, and her anger faded into guilt. She hadn’t seen him either, and he’d clearly been upset. Plus, he’d just run off without his groceries. She sighed and gathered up the few items that hadn’t landed on the ground (or on her). She was going to take his stuff to him, but first, she was going home to take a long bath.

Elsewhere, Minax felt like crawling into a hole somewhere and not coming out. He’d managed to make the nicest fable in town mad at him, and he totally deserved it. The encounter also cost him his food, art supplies, and the peace of not having to go outside to get more! The idea of going out after that… no, he wouldn’t do it. Minax was either going to starve or learn to farm in his backyard before he went out in public.

There was a knock on his door. No one ever knocked on his door, because no one wanted to talk to him, which was how he liked it. He approached and looked through the peephole. Bellus, who had managed to clean most of the paint from her fur, was standing with a few grocery bags. Minax swallowed, figuring that she was probably here to kill him, and opened the door.

Immediately, Bellus launched into her rehearsed apology. “I was very rude to you earlier, and it was wrong of me to put all the blame on you, and I’m sorry. I brought you all the groceries I could salvage, and I went out and grabbed a few more things to replace what was lost,” she said, pushing the bags towards him. To be honest, she was a bit nervous for his reaction. Sure, he’d been apologetic earlier, but he was also known for his… less than pleasant attitude towards others.

Minax blinked in surprise. She was sorry? “Oh, no, you’re, uh, fine? Um,” he trailed off. What was the normal thing to do in this situation? “Did you want to, uh, come in?”

Now it was Bellus’ turn to be surprised. “Sure,” she said. She stepped inside and placed the bags down, taking in her surroundings. His home was dark, but also beautifully decorated, several paintings hung from the walls. “Did you make all of these?” she asked, looking at one canvas depicting a flock of skeletal birds.

“Yeah, uh, I’m not the best, but I enjoy painting,” he said. “I could… show you some I’m working on, if you want? Or not-it’s fine-“

“I’d like that,” Bellus said. Clearly, she’d been wrong about Minax, and she found herself eager to be corrected.

[literal.swag.]

username + link to partner’s entry: literal.swag. + kyeza
fable name: isolde (of house eldemar) | "the forgotten puppet"
prompt: the first puppet

[honeybunchesofoats]

honeybunchesofoats+ certified
fable name: Hex
prompt: (pre lore in my lore prompts from 2 rounds ago if you're interested, not part of the word count!)

Birdsong announced the coming of another spring morning. A light breeze rustled through the leaves on the treetops, creating an atmospheric, tranquil start to-

“RAAAAAAHHHH!!”, a piercing cry cuts through the forest, sending a flock of birds fleeing to the sky.

“Why are you screaming like that? For stars sake we’ve been trapped in here all night, you’ve had all that time to yell!”, Hex tries to readjust their position but winds up spinning the net around.

Hoax digs their elbow into Hex’s shoulder earning a yelp from their twin.

“I fell asleep and dreamed that this was a dream, and that you weren’t the bumbling idiot that got us stuck in this stupid trap!”, Hoax grumbles.

“What kind of people did you tick off that have rope this thick?”

“They’re pirates. And not very good ones if they’re wasting time coming after a single sleeping potion.”, Hex digs in their pocket and shakes the light blue bottle.

Hoax’s eye twitches and if they could move their arms they would first, smack their own face for thinking their sibling could steal without their help and second, smack Hex for letting a band of pirates follow them into this tapestry and subsequently trap them 10 feet above the ground. Before Hoax speaks back up, their silence drives Hex into explaining themselves all over again.

“Listen, I thought it was just the weak, sickly looking one. I didn’t know he had a big pirate man with him until they both followed me. And they were arguing when I lost them before I came back to the rendezvous point so I did my best-”

“And anyway…it’s fine I guess but really is this worth all this fuss? We can just swing by Pollux’s shop and I can buy you as many potions as you want, not that I want to supply your problem but-”

Big pirate man was correct. Hoax swallowed hard as the bulging muscles, wiry beard and deep voice came into view below them. The small sickly looking one wasn’t small at all, he was actually taller than the tan seafarer; manic look in his eyes.

“You’re a mad genius Victory.”, the crazy one muttered. The larger pirate smirked, shrugging as he moved closer to the trap.

“I told you to trust my trapping skills, Pretty Bird.”, he dusted his hands off.

Hex inhales sharply and tenses their body like prey hoping the stiller they stay the less likely a predator to find them.

“When they let us down we should make a run for it.”, they whisper.

“We can hear you! We’re not even going to let you out of the net.”, the one called Ravyn yelled up to them.

Hoax’s head spun, it had been hours since they ate or drank anything and honestly if all they wanted was this stupid potion back they could have it so the siblings could be on their merry way.

“Hex give them the potion when they ask for it.”

“No way! I stole it fair and square!”

Victory snorted, covering his mouth as he chuckled into it. Soon the entire net jerked roughly and the twins scrambled to hold onto each other as they plummet to the ground.

“We’re sorry!!”, they cry out as they are gently tossed the rest of the way to the forest floor.

Hex used the extra room to pat their body as they realized they were let safely onto the ground. Out of all the tapestries they’ve jumped as a team, this was the only time they’ve ever been followed and of course it ends up like this. Ravyn squats down and holds his hand out, motioning to the potion bottle.

“I believe you have something of mine.”

Hoax wrestles the bottle out of Hex’s hand and tosses it out of the net. Ravyn pockets it and switches places with the strong pirate. Victory stabs a dagger into the soft dirt next to them.

“Good luck cutting your way out of my knots.”, he winks, high-fiving Ravyn before they start walking away.

Something bubbles in Hex’s chest before they call after the two pirates.

“This isn’t over!! This means war!”

(693/700)

[ant-arctic]

username + link to partner’s entry: ant-arctic + blueeyedkite
fable name: peridita (last name prema, nickname peri)
prompt: (700 words + 1 art max.)
link to art (on oekaki)
as well as attached:

❝ 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭. ❞

[cherubim]

username + link to partner’s entry: cherubim + leaftail101
fable name: Leonidas
prompt:
i. monday

A small paper list, once crumpled helplessly between teeth, found itself pressed into cobblestone beneath Leonidas’ hooves. The fable stumbled, one leg crossing the other, and fell. Served him right, really, after all that galloping. Passersby parted their crowd around him, hooves faltering but never pausing, continuing on with their days. Every sense within Leonidas urged him to stand, follow the crowd and weave his way to the store. Yet, against all will, his splayed body lay cemented. How ridiculous. The grocery list fluttered in front of his face.

“You okay?”

The voice, cautious and perhaps a little curious, came from above him. Leonidas had half a mind to ignore it, stand and pridefully walk away. Instead—and curse his weak heart for this—he looked up, meeting the eyes of another. Pale, yet full of emotion. Something unknown stirred within him, shockingly warm and captivating. Do I know you? Rests on his tongue. Have I seen you? Before, or otherwise. Amidst the cacophony of hooves around him, Leonidas stayed still.

“Hello?” Pale-eyes, his mind provided, was still standing over him.

“Hi.” With one heave, the fable stood. Feet steady, face flat. “I’m alright, thank you.”

Pale-eyes tilted his head to the left, brows furrowed. “Have we—”

“—Met?” Leonidas shook his head. “No, we haven't. I’d remember if we had.”

ii. for sure

It was meant to be a small gathering. An early June's event at the local bar, a smattering of friendly faces—so the host said. What greeted Leonidas is an abundance of fables, crowded around the sliver of black laminate that was his stage. It wasn't nerve wracking (a musician of his stature would never feel stage fright), but he hoped that his paycheque would reflect the crowd.

Performing was second-nature to Leonidas by now, measuring crowd reactions and adjusting in time. It was simple, easy, and relatively enjoyable. He had never faltered in his steps—not until now, that was. Pale eyes, soulful and expressive, lucent in the stage lights. They stared, chaining his larynx. It was that unknown feeling that had him stumbling over his words, teetering over the edge of soft notes. A tug at his chest, first dull and now overwhelming, beckoned him into the crowd. (Was it his final song? Was it appropriate to leave the stage now?)

He found himself weaving through bodies, hooves following some unseen path. Pausing only mere feet away from the fable, words fell out of him before he could catch them. “I know you.”

“Yeah,” the other fable nodded. “You fell over on the street the other day.”

A nervous cough. “That wasn't my best moment.”

“But I never got to ask you…” a sheepish smile graced the other’s face. “What’s your name?”

“You should know by now, considering this is my show.” Leonidas wiped his brow, smiling in return. “But, my name is Leonidas.”

“And mine’s Keiran.”

Keiran. It sounded familiar, though Leonidas couldn't figure out why. “A fitting name.”

Keiran laughed. “Should we get out of here? I think the show’s over.”

iii. get back to me

Fate was a foreign, unwelcome concept to Leonidas. He was not one for preordained futures—he carved this future himself, defying any sort of fate that was expected of him. He created this life, humble beginnings or not. Why, exactly, Leonidas agreed to meeting Keiran, was unknown to him. Whatever connection his mind had feigned was pure coincidence, but the other had deemed it destiny. He ignored that tug in his chest.

Keiran, separated only by a sticky café table, had brought the subject up. “Don't you think it’s a bit too odd to write it off as a coincidence, Leonidas?”

“I’ve learnt not to put meaning into things that don't exist.” He sipped his coffee. “But it’s nice to meet someone new.”

“But,” Keiran continued, “I feel like I know you. Like… you’ve been there since I was born.”

“Minds are odd.” Leonidas said flippantly, ignoring the deep-seated longing that wracked his heart. It wasn’t worth acknowledging. “They recognise patterns that simply aren't there—déjà vu, for example.”

Keiran looked deflated, and—somehow—it pained Leonidas in turn. Perhaps they were fatefully connected, but Leonidas denied fate. He always had. (Hasn't he?)

[tigrerra]

username + link to partner’s entry: tigrerra 992197 Alantica
fable name: Falin
prompt:

couldn't stop thinking of this meme when i made it im so sorry,,,

[kaisisles]

(due to technical difficulties, i'm posting on their behalf!)

username + link to partner’s entry: khvoxtic + kaisisles
fable name: porsche
prompt: 696 words



@usernamePro
Ngl, the guy tattooing me today is hot, defo think I should ask him out… Send prayers <3




@quirkyusername
REPLIED:@usernamepro
🙏 hope he shoots you down




@usernamepro
REPLIED:@quirkyusername
I’m going to beat you with a stick <3


Porsche rolls his eyes at the thread, pocketing his phone as the aforementioned tattoo artist returns from setting up his station. Voice soft as he explains the process, thick lashes casting shadows over his cheeks as he hands over the clipboard and pen for him to sign off on. The usual health and safety. Skimming it Porche signs with practiced cursive looping a heart off the tail of the ‘e’ before handing the board back. “Porsche. Pretty…” He comments, holding out a hand. “Cid.” Porsche, slips his hand into the others, he already knew Cid’s name from their website and portfolio, but being introduced properly felt… more.

Cid beckons him to follow as he walks off down the hall. Rising from his seat he trails after the sound of heavy boots and jangling chains. The station is meticulously set up, stencil off to the side, vaguely making out the winding vines they had discussed. It had taken a couple of iterations before he had been happy, but after a couple reviews, Porsche had nothing to comment on. Not the design nor the unwavering patience of his artist.


“I’m so excited, this has been a long time coming and I just know I’m going to feel amazing after. I’ve been missing short sleeves.” He rambles to the man who sits patiently, laughing softly at the lack of response, Porsche looks to his sleeve, jaw clenching as he sucks in a shallow breath.

“Take your time.” Glancing up from the offending fabric, Porsche watches Cid relax back into his chair. That patience once again shining through as he wrestles with his own ability to expose the deepest parts of himself. The other hardly even flinches at the sight when he does pull back the fabric, rolling the chair over to glance over the ruined canvas. Paled with time, the scars leave raised marks, marring his near perfect image. A reminder of a time long gone.


“Ok!” Porsche steels himself. “Let’s do this.”



Cid looks over the fresh tattoo and the girl holding back tears in her chair. Decked head to toe in pink and ruffles, she doesn’t know whether it's from pain of the session or something more deeply rooted. It’s not for her to comment on.

She hadn’t known what to expect when the booking had come through. She knew it was going to be a sensitive session given the details provided. Busying herself as she let the other settle.

“Can you take a picture for me?” Porsche mumbles, rubbing at their face as she calms herself down, retrieving her phone from her pocket, a collection of charms clinking together with the movement. Cid nods, flicking open the camera to take a couple shots of the weaving vine, the marks still visible this close up, but to the general public, it would just look like skin. Handing the phone back, she watches as Porsche flicks through the shoots before looking up to her. Dark eyes swallowed her whole. Glassy from tears, she looked even more doll-like than before. Pretty.

“Thank you.” It’s a quiet and gentle thing. A thank you holding more than just gratitude. Unsure of how to proceed, Cid runs through the basics of aftercare as she wraps the tattoo properly before leading them both back to the front reception.

A small recognisable ping alerts from her phone. @usernamePro her one online guy mutual had been given his own custom tone, it made bantering easier knowing exactly when he was posting. Pulling up the thread from previous, she glances at the new notification and freezes.





@usernamePro
To Future Growth
[IMG ATTACHED]



There, on the screen, clear as day, the same tattoo she had just done displayed right back to her. Turning the screen to the girl… guy… in front of her.


“You thought I was a guy?”

Porsche looks at the screen, then back to Cid, a quirk in his brow.


“Guess I should get that stick.”