Sunlight shined down upon you, a single ray of light peering down through the thick cover of...
- Created
- Status
- Ongoing
- Watchers
- 28
- Recent readers
- 0
- Threadmarks
- 5
-
Statistics (5 threadmarks, 2.2k words)
User Total Lexica 5 Threadmarks Reader mode
Sunlight
Lexica
Persevere
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Sunlight shined down upon you, a single ray of light peering down through the thick cover of leaves above. You grow where two roads diverge in a forest. You are not sure what kind of forest it is. You are not sure of much. What you do know is that the lone ray of sunlight woke you up. Made you special. Made you more than the other flowers and weeds and trees and grasses around you.
What kind of flower are you?
[] Write-in.
This is an experiment/me wanting to have some fun. For the first couple of updates I will proceed with very few votes and update with very short updates. For this first update, I will almost certainly take the very first vote.
What kind of flower are you?
[] Write-in.
This is an experiment/me wanting to have some fun. For the first couple of updates I will proceed with very few votes and update with very short updates. For this first update, I will almost certainly take the very first vote.
Last edited:
KnownParadox
Not a sphere
- Location
- Canada
[X] A Buttercup, golden and healthy.
This seems interesting, also you should probably threadmark your post.
This seems interesting, also you should probably threadmark your post.
Two Roads Diverged
Lexica
Persevere
- Pronouns
- She/Her
[X] A Buttercup, golden and healthy.
You're a Buttercup. You symbolize neatness and humility and childishness and maybe a few other things besides. Your bloom matches the color of the sunlight shining down on you warm and golden.
...You think that means that your forest is a nice forest. You don't think buttercups bloom in nasty dank scary ones. You suppose you ought to be happy about that, but you're really mainly waiting for something to happen. Your sudden awareness seems a bit odd. You feel as if there should be some greater purpose to it.
Time passes and you grow impatient, but eventually something happens. What is it?
[] A woman with grey hair and tattered clothes black and white and red strolls down the road towards you whistling some tune you don't know. She pauses at your crossroad and leans down to whisper into your golden petals. "You," she whispers, "are the most important thing there is." Then with a wink and a smile she walks down the fork in the road to your left, where the leaves turn shades of red and orange.
[] A man looking like a cowboy out of a western sprinted down the road towards you and your crossroads before looking both ways and cursing loudly. After a moment he flips out a pocket watch and seems to consult it before looking down to you. "Did you see a woman come by? Grey hair, edgy clothes?" he asks hurriedly, desperately it seems to you. She went right you say without hesitation. The man thanks you before carrying on down the path to your right, where the leaves are green and vibrant. He carries the ticking of a clock in his wake.
You're a Buttercup. You symbolize neatness and humility and childishness and maybe a few other things besides. Your bloom matches the color of the sunlight shining down on you warm and golden.
...You think that means that your forest is a nice forest. You don't think buttercups bloom in nasty dank scary ones. You suppose you ought to be happy about that, but you're really mainly waiting for something to happen. Your sudden awareness seems a bit odd. You feel as if there should be some greater purpose to it.
Time passes and you grow impatient, but eventually something happens. What is it?
[] A woman with grey hair and tattered clothes black and white and red strolls down the road towards you whistling some tune you don't know. She pauses at your crossroad and leans down to whisper into your golden petals. "You," she whispers, "are the most important thing there is." Then with a wink and a smile she walks down the fork in the road to your left, where the leaves turn shades of red and orange.
[] A man looking like a cowboy out of a western sprinted down the road towards you and your crossroads before looking both ways and cursing loudly. After a moment he flips out a pocket watch and seems to consult it before looking down to you. "Did you see a woman come by? Grey hair, edgy clothes?" he asks hurriedly, desperately it seems to you. She went right you say without hesitation. The man thanks you before carrying on down the path to your right, where the leaves are green and vibrant. He carries the ticking of a clock in his wake.
[x] Woman
Ultramandalore
Errant Quester
- Location
- just south of Parts Unknown
[x] A woman with grey hair and tattered clothes black and white and red strolls down the road towards you whistling some tune you don't know. She pauses at your crossroad and leans down to whisper into your golden petals. "You," she whispers, "are the most important thing there is." Then with a wink and a smile she walks down the fork in the road to your left, where the leaves turn shades of red and orange.
Choosing a Path
Lexica
Persevere
- Pronouns
- She/Her
[X] A woman with grey hair and tattered clothes black and white and red strolls down the road towards you whistling some tune you don't know. She pauses at your crossroad and leans down to whisper into your golden petals. "You," she whispers, "are the most important thing there is." Then with a wink and a smile she walks down the fork in the road to your left, where the leaves turn shades of red and orange.
You wiggle in your sunbeam out of sheer joy, fluffing up your petals. After a moment you turn your attention to the oak tree directly behind you.
"I," you inform it proudly, "am the most important thing there is." You wait for the tree to respond, examining the moss covering its bark as you do so. You don't think you would be a fan of a moss coating, but it worked nicely for the tree. After a moment, the wood above you creaks, and the leaves shift, and the tree bends ever so slightly and suddenly you are no longer in your perfect beam of sunlight, no longer at the center of what had only moments ago seemed to you to be a perfect and just universe.
"Hey!" You cry up at the tree in a tinny voice. "What was that for! I'm way more important than that violet over there! I should get the sunlight instead." Convinced of the rightness of your argument, you wait for the tree to restore your sunlight to you.
Instead, your only response comes in a slow voice that creaks like thick trunks in a heavy wind. "You don't seem very important to me."
You sputter and flounder at the tree's rudeness before muttering petulantly. "I'll show you just how important I am."
It's not that you do anything per se, but that you have a thought and the universe aligns. From your stem sprouts a hand and from there an arm and then a body, like the one that woman had had with feet and legs and arms and hands and hair and all sorts of other things that bodies had. Your skin is tinged green and your hair the same golden color as your petals. The woman's clothes were a bit too dark and tattered for your tastes, but you emulate something kind of like it, dark red leggings, a vibrant red top, and a dark red jacket, with a white waist-cape-thing with golden highlights.
You pluck yourself from the ground and arrange yourself carefully in your hair. With a smirk you stick out your tongue and grin triumphantly at the oak before stepping out of its shadow and into the sunlight.
"There," you say smugly, "Who's important now."
You pause, waiting for the tree's reverent apology and admiration. You would be magnanimous in your forgiveness of course-
"Your fashion sense is a bit garish," it comments. "I don't think that look really works with green skin."
You open and close your mouth in consternation at the tree before mustering the wit to reply "Well- your moss looks ugly!" and stomping off down the road before it could get a word in edgewise.
Down what road do you find yourself walking?
[] The road to the Sun of course. What better place for a flower to be?
[] The road to the City, where people will no doubt appreciate you better than some backwards tree.
[] The road to somewhere dull and mundane to brighten with your presence.
[] The road to Hell. You have plenty of good intentions to pave the way.
[] The road to somewhere else. Write-in. (Subject to my approval)
You wiggle in your sunbeam out of sheer joy, fluffing up your petals. After a moment you turn your attention to the oak tree directly behind you.
"I," you inform it proudly, "am the most important thing there is." You wait for the tree to respond, examining the moss covering its bark as you do so. You don't think you would be a fan of a moss coating, but it worked nicely for the tree. After a moment, the wood above you creaks, and the leaves shift, and the tree bends ever so slightly and suddenly you are no longer in your perfect beam of sunlight, no longer at the center of what had only moments ago seemed to you to be a perfect and just universe.
"Hey!" You cry up at the tree in a tinny voice. "What was that for! I'm way more important than that violet over there! I should get the sunlight instead." Convinced of the rightness of your argument, you wait for the tree to restore your sunlight to you.
Instead, your only response comes in a slow voice that creaks like thick trunks in a heavy wind. "You don't seem very important to me."
You sputter and flounder at the tree's rudeness before muttering petulantly. "I'll show you just how important I am."
It's not that you do anything per se, but that you have a thought and the universe aligns. From your stem sprouts a hand and from there an arm and then a body, like the one that woman had had with feet and legs and arms and hands and hair and all sorts of other things that bodies had. Your skin is tinged green and your hair the same golden color as your petals. The woman's clothes were a bit too dark and tattered for your tastes, but you emulate something kind of like it, dark red leggings, a vibrant red top, and a dark red jacket, with a white waist-cape-thing with golden highlights.
You pluck yourself from the ground and arrange yourself carefully in your hair. With a smirk you stick out your tongue and grin triumphantly at the oak before stepping out of its shadow and into the sunlight.
"There," you say smugly, "Who's important now."
You pause, waiting for the tree's reverent apology and admiration. You would be magnanimous in your forgiveness of course-
"Your fashion sense is a bit garish," it comments. "I don't think that look really works with green skin."
You open and close your mouth in consternation at the tree before mustering the wit to reply "Well- your moss looks ugly!" and stomping off down the road before it could get a word in edgewise.
Down what road do you find yourself walking?
[] The road to the Sun of course. What better place for a flower to be?
[] The road to the City, where people will no doubt appreciate you better than some backwards tree.
[] The road to somewhere dull and mundane to brighten with your presence.
[] The road to Hell. You have plenty of good intentions to pave the way.
[] The road to somewhere else. Write-in. (Subject to my approval)
Ultramandalore
Errant Quester
- Location
- just south of Parts Unknown
[x] The road to the City, where people will no doubt appreciate you better than some backwards tree.
KnownParadox
Not a sphere
- Location
- Canada
[X] The road to somewhere dull and mundane to brighten with your presence.
Mother Nyx
Mother of Elpis
- Location
- The Kei Klub
- Pronouns
- She/Her
[X] The road to somewhere dull and mundane to brighten with your presence.
That tree has no idea what greatness looks like.
That tree has no idea what greatness looks like.
Terran Imperium
[French]
- Location
- Southern France
[X] The road to the Sun of course. What better place for a flower to be?
We are a flower.
We are a flower.
Dahlia Thorn
Lexica
Persevere
- Pronouns
- She/Her
[X] The road to somewhere dull and mundane to brighten with your presence.
You don't really know where you're going when you start walking down the road. After a moment you think that you might try to find the road that leads to the Sun, but you feel as if that might give the Sun the impression that it's more important than you just because you like it so much. The Sun is very nice, but it's still less important than you.
What you need, more than anything, is a place to prove that importance. Somewhere you are unquestionably miraculous and it's visible to everyone who sees you.
Somewhere... Ordinary.
You toss a few pebbles at the water and watch ripples form and then be dissolved by the wind and the slightly larger waves it made. Then you lie back, spreading out your arms and kicking out your feet.
This being important thing was hard. It was like no one even cared about how important you were! Not the other flowers, or the stupid trees, or the wind, or the lake, which hadn't even bothered to say hello to you, or that dumb squirrel that had made you pay it before it told you what it knew!
"I should have just gone to the Sun," you mutter.
All too soon, a shadow falls upon you in the midst of your self pity and you crane your neck back to get a better look at its owner. Her hair is a pale and lifeless auburn and her eyes are limpid pools of the same color. Her mouth is the slightly upward curved line of someone smiling in an effort not to cry. She wears a long dull grey skirt and a ragged brown button up shirt. You think it would have looked vaguely militant were it not so ragged, but with a tear showing her left elbow and the bottom of it looking like someone had raggedly torn off the last few inches, it and her pallid skin only further the impression of someone frail and at the end of their rope.
"Mind if I sit down?" She asks, and her voice at least is not so worn down. There's a note of determination in it that tells you whoever this is, they don't give up easily.
You go to make a gracious gesture indicating your magnanimous acceptance of her request but abort it with a sigh half way through.
"Sure," you say after a moment, letting out all your frustration with the rest of the day into that one word. You glance up at the sun as she sits down beside you carefully, neatly crossing her legs. The sun would set soon probably. That was nice. Sunsets are supposed to be pretty.
The woman seems content to leave the both of you in a somehow companionable silence it seemed. For a few minutes at least, so were you, but after a while you can't help but make conversation.
"So what was your day like?" you ask in an attempt to commiserate.
She glances over towards you and lets out a sigh of her own.
"Pretty bad," she says, "I was murdered by my daughter, so..." She trails off, as if the sentence needed no more explaining.
...You would like some context to that please, but you suppose that that does qualify as pretty bad.
You're not sure if 'some plants were mean to me' really quite compares. As if sensing the direction of your thoughts, she grins at you properly and says "But we all have our own burdens to bare."
Most people would have said that sarcastically you think, but you're pretty sure that she means it. After a moment of meeting your eyes she turns back to the lake and watches the setting sun. You join her in observing it.
Long minutes pass and colors swirl across the sky. Just as the sun reaches the horizon she speaks up again, this time of her own accord.
"My name is Dahlia Thorn."
You hesitate before replying. "Buttercup, I suppose."
She nods. "Tell me Buttercup, what do you think of...."
[]...Light?
[]...Health?
[]...Robots?
[]...Safety?
[]...Stuffed Animals?
You don't really know where you're going when you start walking down the road. After a moment you think that you might try to find the road that leads to the Sun, but you feel as if that might give the Sun the impression that it's more important than you just because you like it so much. The Sun is very nice, but it's still less important than you.
What you need, more than anything, is a place to prove that importance. Somewhere you are unquestionably miraculous and it's visible to everyone who sees you.
Somewhere... Ordinary.
---
You ask passing trees and flowers if they have any ideas on where that place would be, but none of them are much help. A birch tree tells you about a road to Death, and a sunflower points you to the crossing where you would turn if you wanted to go to the Sun. A squirrel, when you give it an acorn in exchange, tells you that the son of Tiger Mountain knew how to get anywhere if you could find him, but that was tricky on the best of days. And anyways, a passing wind commented, who would want to go to the Ordinary World? Of course, the wind is long blown past by the time you even get half of your question on if she knew where to go out.
Eventually, with a heavy sigh, you sit down by a gleaming lake with a good view of Tiger Mountain in the distance and the forest behind you.
Eventually, with a heavy sigh, you sit down by a gleaming lake with a good view of Tiger Mountain in the distance and the forest behind you.
You toss a few pebbles at the water and watch ripples form and then be dissolved by the wind and the slightly larger waves it made. Then you lie back, spreading out your arms and kicking out your feet.
This being important thing was hard. It was like no one even cared about how important you were! Not the other flowers, or the stupid trees, or the wind, or the lake, which hadn't even bothered to say hello to you, or that dumb squirrel that had made you pay it before it told you what it knew!
"I should have just gone to the Sun," you mutter.
All too soon, a shadow falls upon you in the midst of your self pity and you crane your neck back to get a better look at its owner. Her hair is a pale and lifeless auburn and her eyes are limpid pools of the same color. Her mouth is the slightly upward curved line of someone smiling in an effort not to cry. She wears a long dull grey skirt and a ragged brown button up shirt. You think it would have looked vaguely militant were it not so ragged, but with a tear showing her left elbow and the bottom of it looking like someone had raggedly torn off the last few inches, it and her pallid skin only further the impression of someone frail and at the end of their rope.
"Mind if I sit down?" She asks, and her voice at least is not so worn down. There's a note of determination in it that tells you whoever this is, they don't give up easily.
You go to make a gracious gesture indicating your magnanimous acceptance of her request but abort it with a sigh half way through.
"Sure," you say after a moment, letting out all your frustration with the rest of the day into that one word. You glance up at the sun as she sits down beside you carefully, neatly crossing her legs. The sun would set soon probably. That was nice. Sunsets are supposed to be pretty.
The woman seems content to leave the both of you in a somehow companionable silence it seemed. For a few minutes at least, so were you, but after a while you can't help but make conversation.
"So what was your day like?" you ask in an attempt to commiserate.
She glances over towards you and lets out a sigh of her own.
"Pretty bad," she says, "I was murdered by my daughter, so..." She trails off, as if the sentence needed no more explaining.
...You would like some context to that please, but you suppose that that does qualify as pretty bad.
You're not sure if 'some plants were mean to me' really quite compares. As if sensing the direction of your thoughts, she grins at you properly and says "But we all have our own burdens to bare."
Most people would have said that sarcastically you think, but you're pretty sure that she means it. After a moment of meeting your eyes she turns back to the lake and watches the setting sun. You join her in observing it.
Long minutes pass and colors swirl across the sky. Just as the sun reaches the horizon she speaks up again, this time of her own accord.
"My name is Dahlia Thorn."
You hesitate before replying. "Buttercup, I suppose."
She nods. "Tell me Buttercup, what do you think of...."
[]...Light?
[]...Health?
[]...Robots?
[]...Safety?
[]...Stuffed Animals?
Mother Nyx
Mother of Elpis
- Location
- The Kei Klub
- Pronouns
- She/Her
[X]...Light?
- Location
- scrabbling
[X]...Health?
Ultramandalore
Errant Quester
- Location
- just south of Parts Unknown
[x]...Light?
KnownParadox
Not a sphere
- Location
- Canada
[X]...Health?
Dromeosaur
Feathery Raptor of snowy planes and frozen sea
- Location
- The land of Trees and Squirrels
[x]...Light?
- Location
- scrabbling
[X]...Stuffed Animals?
Lexica
Persevere
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Well, the woman who told you that you were super important was Iolithae Septimian...
