A Place For Lost Things [A Quiet Riot Quest]

[Evenstar]

Once upon a time, there was a cozy bookstore.

Then it burned down.

Once upon a time, there was an unfinished girl.

Then she disappeared.

Once upon a time, there was a tiny secret.

Then it got free.



And yet —

In a loft apartment over a bookstore, a whisper wakes a silver-haired girl.

Her name is Eliria now. Her secret's name is Thistle.

They might be the only two found things in this world.

***​

Eliria gets out of bed, her secret twining into her hair: its tiny words are best kept held close to her ear, where it won't have to shout to be heard over her heartbeat.

She puts on her dress, smooths out the wrinkles. She drinks a glass of water from the everfull jug on the counter, and eats a piece of the old librarian's fruit bread. (It wouldn't do to forget to tend to herself, now, would it?)

— and on that note, best to change the dressing on her hands as well. Her cuts are starting to scab over, but... best not to risk it.

A short while later, she's presentable.

Now, to business.

((Vote for as many options as you like.))
[ ] Look around the apartment and remind yourself of all the things that need mending.
[ ] Go down into the bookshop and catalog all the treasures you saved from the breaking waves yesterday.
[ ] Inspect the bookshop, and remind yourself what still needs tending.
[ ] Check if the weather is kind enough to risk another attempt at airing out the tables.
[ ] Go out into the street, and see if any new places have arrived today.
[ ] Go down to the airy place, and think about what it might become.
[ ] Visit the crammed warehouse, and do your best to catalogue more of its contents.
[ ] Go down to the courtyard and consider your half-finished chess set.
[ ] Visit Waybound and make sure it's doing alright.
[ ] Go down to the cove, and do your best to save more flotsam from the tides.
[ ] Ask Thistle for advice on what needs mending first.
[ ] Ask Thistle if they know anything about this strange, shadowy world.
[ ] Ask Thistle if they've heard anything interesting from their fellow whispers.
[ ] Examine yourself and make sure you're doing okay.
[ ] Check your food supplies.
[ ] Read more of the last librarian's personal collection.
[ ] Go sit on the pebbled beach and enjoy the sky.
[ ] Go back to bed and rest.

 

[Evenstar]

The apartment, first. Her heart. First you set yourself to rights, then your home, then your corner of the sky. Has anything shifted in the night?

Well, she still hasn't done the dishes: the plates and cups seem a bit put-out, though she did only use them lightly. A simple enough thing to tend. She washes them in the basin, humming while she works. The whisper in her hair hums along.

Now then, now then —

She's on her last slice of fruit bread, but berries and bottles and beautiful fruit fill her cupboards; there's no trouble there. And if needs must, she could always eat the preserves in the spice rack straight. Alas, the cutlery still hasn't taken to her mismatched dishes; she can hear it gossiping in little clicks and clacks, all those silvery forks looking down their tines at the honest earthenware. The jug is as everfull as always. Her basin is clean, despite the rough use she's given it in the past few days. She pats it softly; anything so loyal and brave deserves her affection.

The Alchemist's burner is still sitting in the middle of the floor; she picks it up, and sets it by the basin. There. Better. As for the hand mirror —

She has no call for a hand mirror, and yet her fingers hesitate.

She leaves it where it lies, and — what's this?

She'd almost forgotten this soft silken bag, with its tangled-rune mouth and bigger inside. A strange old magic, this. She leaves it where it lies, so as not to disturb.

The leather pouch of lavender coins is more familiar: she leaves it be as well.

With the kitchen more-or-less set to rights, she turns to survey the apartment as a whole. Her kitchen; the old librarian's bookcase with its coin offerings; the spinning wheel: her plushie-strewn bed, and its wandwood-buried end-table; her armoire, full of wizard robes and dresses, none of which fit her; her curtained-off window; the side-table, with its clock and struggling flower; the kitchen table, still laden with her sewing kit and her first faltering attempt at a new skirt.

Well enough, she supposes. Out onto the inner landing.

She's gone and left yesterday's scarf draped over the balcony. Whoops. Back into the apartment, and let's put it in the box in the bottom of the armoire. There.

Back out onto the landing, and down the stairs into the back room of the apartment. Mismatched books stuff the back shelves, and the back table still has a forlorn tea-set perched upon it. She hisses air in through her teeth, but — not much she can do here, not now.

The front room, then. Still crammed full of half-rotted furniture from the once-bar, still buried in books of every size and shape and kind, every shelf full, every solid table and chair groaning under the weight of solid literature. She rubs her forehead, sighs.

At least she has her sea-treasures, all sprawled out on the clearest section of floor. Driftwood and tangled net and glass floats and seashells. Kelp like matted hair. Glittering pyrite. Even a whole heavy crate, marked with the seal of some foreign excise.

The sea has been kind to her.

------

Welcome to one of the fundamental mechanics of this quest.
You, dear reader, have the opportunity to send Eliria almost anything you like.
The only restrictions are these:
- Everything manufactured that Eliria finds must have been lost by someone. Keep the history of what you send in mind: if I'm uncertain about including it, I may ask you where it came from.
- Whatever you send must make sense in the context that it's found. For example, the crate cannot contain gold bars, because it would have sunk to the bottom of the ocean.
- No "lucky finds." You may not send Eliria direct answers to her problems. For example, the crate could not contain oranges if Eliria were out of food.
- No objects that belong to a specific other fictional universe.
- Try to keep things in flavor for a low-fantasy world.


------

You may write in as many or as few of the following as you wish:

[ ] A description of a piece of driftwood.
[ ] A description of a glass float.
[ ] A description of a seashell.
[ ] A description of a piece of kelp.
[ ] A description of a piece of pyrite.
[ ] The contents of the excise-crate.
[ ] Tell us what else is caught in the net and the kelp.

Note:
You may submit write-ins for any option, even ones that others have already done.
Please write in no more than three submissions for any single option, and no more than seven for any single vote.
Extra submissions that can't find a place immediately will be given one in time.