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dramatispersonae) wrote2012-12-14 05:41 pm
dramatispersonae) wrote2012-12-14 05:41 pm
CITRINE
You're standing together on what seems to be the main street of a small village, paved with cobblestones, with low buildings standing silent on either side. If you look in any of them, you'll find them dark and empty.
In contrast to the Ring, it's rather chilly. The sky is slate-grey, and it seems like there's snow falling, blanketing you and the village in pure white. On closer inspection, the snow turns out to be ash – but the bleaching is literal. Even when you brush it off, your skin, your hair, your clothes, and your keys remain ash-coloured.
A single, feeble light flickers further down the street.
In contrast to the Ring, it's rather chilly. The sky is slate-grey, and it seems like there's snow falling, blanketing you and the village in pure white. On closer inspection, the snow turns out to be ash – but the bleaching is literal. Even when you brush it off, your skin, your hair, your clothes, and your keys remain ash-coloured.
A single, feeble light flickers further down the street.
Re: room
The box and rod shatter into powder after twenty seconds. A single match appears on the floor, with a paper tag attached. STRIKE ME, it says.
When you do, the wispy shape of a small, bedraggled, shivering girl appears. She has no shoes, and carries a basket of matches on her arm. It's two-thirds full. She's all made of orange flame, as chilly as the surrounding air at first, then growing warmer. Her trembling ceases.
She steps towards the back wall -- which crumbles, revealing a path deeper into the village – and walks outside, beckoning you to follow.
Re: room