MPC 56B: We Remember Purpose [complete]
Nov 24, 2018 18:09:27 GMT
Post by Deleted on Nov 24, 2018 18:09:27 GMT
MPC Name: We Remember
MPC Number: MPC 56B
Reward Requested: Posts
Word Count: 1040
That strange feeling, the one you could only say in French. Déjà vu, was it? Humans always did have an obsessive fascination with overcomplicating things. Disjointed familiarity was what Pandora experienced as she floated atop her broom over the polychromatic field of flowers. This recognition was hardly as pleasant as the foreign human phrase sounded, however. She had been to the Southern Tropics before, but not to the Binary Archipelago. At least, never within this lifetime. It might not have even been this particular island that was visited prior to now, but in the end that made little difference.
She was sure that the same vile stench covered them all thanks to the native flora.
The fragrance floating atop the afternoon breeze should have elicited a carefree reaction from the woman. Instead it only made Pandora crinkle her nose in displeasure. Unwanted, but important memories were starting to surface again as she glanced from one end of the field to the other in thought. She had smelled this scent before, in a past life. Only it was different from what her vague memories described. She had a hunch about what would fix that, though.
Still sitting on her broom the witchmon willed herself to float upwards a short distance. Just enough to give herself some space from the oncoming blast. Afterwards she raised a single index finger into the air above. Roaring into life overhead a fireball appeared as wide as the witchmon was tall. The fireball itself had a cackling face on it, and seemed oblivious to its surroundings. Only when Pandora pointed down at the ground did it give any real reaction. Howling with a deranged laughter the burning projectile obeyed and dived towards its target.
After the smoke had cleared Pandora lowered herself into the crater with her own face as stoic as ever. One of her crimson heels touched down onto the charred earth, and then the other. She couldn’t take her eyes off of neither the blackened soil, nor the glowing remains of burned petals at her feet. All she had to do next was close her eyes and take a deep breath, and that’s what Pandora did. Now it was coming back to her again. Fragments of the past. Déjà vu all over again.
Her nightmare that had awoken her within her egg in the Village of Beginnings.
The fragrant aroma of the flowers tarnished by the biting contrast of smoke and ash. Her nose crinkled again as she eased herself down into a kneeling posture, and then she reached down to feel the hot, loose soil within her grasp. Pandora’s breathing picked up as she imagined clawing her way through this very same dirt. Crawling. Struggling. A vain effort to try and reach a safe haven that did not exist in this smoldering pit. And then that voice. That voice that would bid her farewell from existence.
‘Try harder in your next life.’
Pandora’s eyes shot open as her lips trembled with an uncharacteristic whimper, her body left shaking and her blood left cold by the experience. She noticed her hand had desperately clenched at the dirt before her, like a drowning person grasping at floating leaves. The display of fear sickened her, but what could she do? Clenching her teeth the witchmon threw her handful of dirt aside with an angry, defiant shout. A momentary rebellion of the idea that she had died here somewhere on the Binary Archipelago.
As she rose to her feet her composure only worsened. Questions that would be answered by no one created a dark storm of restless activity within her mind. She wanted to destroy her surroundings completely. To erase any evidence that she had been killed so disgracefully! More than anything else, she was angry to finally confirm that her haunting nightmare was based on truth. She had been killed on these islands. The reasons behind that fact still eluded her, and only made the woman more frustrated.
The feeling of warm wetness against her eyes made her suddenly aware of her own tears. Again the urge to lash out swelled within her. There was nothing here to destroy, though. Only her own disheartened feeling of helplessness. The witchmon’s broom caught her as she fell back in despair offering a seat if nothing else. It was better than nothing, in the end. Hanging off of the broom was a small bag. In it was a bottle of wine that Pandora had picked up from one of the local resorts. When asked what the occasion was, she had mentioned that it was her birthday as well as a special anniversary. Both were true as far as she knew. The day she was born must have been the day she had died. Instead of drinking the bottle she left it at the bottom of the crater as an attempt to put her mind at ease and reconcile with her discovery. Funnily enough, it wasn’t helping.
Pandora spent the next hour or so meditating above the crater floating on her broom. There was no secret wisdom to extract from today. No epiphany or elaborate insight. Just one more piece of the puzzle that was her death. She wasn’t even sure what island it had occurred on since these flowers where everywhere. However, as it always had and always would be, Pandora couldn’t really feel satisfied until she found out who had killed her; and returned the favor in kind of course. This was still a step forward no matter how painful it was. Now that she was regaining bits of her lost strength back it was only a matter of time until she closed this ghastly chapter of her life. One way, or another.
One last glance would be spared to the ruined hole in the earth below before flying away. A long time ago she had vowed to never let herself feel so powerless ever again. As disingenuous as she could be at times that was one promise the witchmon was determined to keep. Next year when she would celebrate her birthday she wanted all of this dead and buried, no pun intended. She had a lot of work to catch up on to make it so.
MPC Number: MPC 56B
Reward Requested: Posts
Word Count: 1040
That strange feeling, the one you could only say in French. Déjà vu, was it? Humans always did have an obsessive fascination with overcomplicating things. Disjointed familiarity was what Pandora experienced as she floated atop her broom over the polychromatic field of flowers. This recognition was hardly as pleasant as the foreign human phrase sounded, however. She had been to the Southern Tropics before, but not to the Binary Archipelago. At least, never within this lifetime. It might not have even been this particular island that was visited prior to now, but in the end that made little difference.
She was sure that the same vile stench covered them all thanks to the native flora.
The fragrance floating atop the afternoon breeze should have elicited a carefree reaction from the woman. Instead it only made Pandora crinkle her nose in displeasure. Unwanted, but important memories were starting to surface again as she glanced from one end of the field to the other in thought. She had smelled this scent before, in a past life. Only it was different from what her vague memories described. She had a hunch about what would fix that, though.
Still sitting on her broom the witchmon willed herself to float upwards a short distance. Just enough to give herself some space from the oncoming blast. Afterwards she raised a single index finger into the air above. Roaring into life overhead a fireball appeared as wide as the witchmon was tall. The fireball itself had a cackling face on it, and seemed oblivious to its surroundings. Only when Pandora pointed down at the ground did it give any real reaction. Howling with a deranged laughter the burning projectile obeyed and dived towards its target.
After the smoke had cleared Pandora lowered herself into the crater with her own face as stoic as ever. One of her crimson heels touched down onto the charred earth, and then the other. She couldn’t take her eyes off of neither the blackened soil, nor the glowing remains of burned petals at her feet. All she had to do next was close her eyes and take a deep breath, and that’s what Pandora did. Now it was coming back to her again. Fragments of the past. Déjà vu all over again.
Her nightmare that had awoken her within her egg in the Village of Beginnings.
The fragrant aroma of the flowers tarnished by the biting contrast of smoke and ash. Her nose crinkled again as she eased herself down into a kneeling posture, and then she reached down to feel the hot, loose soil within her grasp. Pandora’s breathing picked up as she imagined clawing her way through this very same dirt. Crawling. Struggling. A vain effort to try and reach a safe haven that did not exist in this smoldering pit. And then that voice. That voice that would bid her farewell from existence.
‘Try harder in your next life.’
Pandora’s eyes shot open as her lips trembled with an uncharacteristic whimper, her body left shaking and her blood left cold by the experience. She noticed her hand had desperately clenched at the dirt before her, like a drowning person grasping at floating leaves. The display of fear sickened her, but what could she do? Clenching her teeth the witchmon threw her handful of dirt aside with an angry, defiant shout. A momentary rebellion of the idea that she had died here somewhere on the Binary Archipelago.
As she rose to her feet her composure only worsened. Questions that would be answered by no one created a dark storm of restless activity within her mind. She wanted to destroy her surroundings completely. To erase any evidence that she had been killed so disgracefully! More than anything else, she was angry to finally confirm that her haunting nightmare was based on truth. She had been killed on these islands. The reasons behind that fact still eluded her, and only made the woman more frustrated.
The feeling of warm wetness against her eyes made her suddenly aware of her own tears. Again the urge to lash out swelled within her. There was nothing here to destroy, though. Only her own disheartened feeling of helplessness. The witchmon’s broom caught her as she fell back in despair offering a seat if nothing else. It was better than nothing, in the end. Hanging off of the broom was a small bag. In it was a bottle of wine that Pandora had picked up from one of the local resorts. When asked what the occasion was, she had mentioned that it was her birthday as well as a special anniversary. Both were true as far as she knew. The day she was born must have been the day she had died. Instead of drinking the bottle she left it at the bottom of the crater as an attempt to put her mind at ease and reconcile with her discovery. Funnily enough, it wasn’t helping.
Pandora spent the next hour or so meditating above the crater floating on her broom. There was no secret wisdom to extract from today. No epiphany or elaborate insight. Just one more piece of the puzzle that was her death. She wasn’t even sure what island it had occurred on since these flowers where everywhere. However, as it always had and always would be, Pandora couldn’t really feel satisfied until she found out who had killed her; and returned the favor in kind of course. This was still a step forward no matter how painful it was. Now that she was regaining bits of her lost strength back it was only a matter of time until she closed this ghastly chapter of her life. One way, or another.
One last glance would be spared to the ruined hole in the earth below before flying away. A long time ago she had vowed to never let herself feel so powerless ever again. As disingenuous as she could be at times that was one promise the witchmon was determined to keep. Next year when she would celebrate her birthday she wanted all of this dead and buried, no pun intended. She had a lot of work to catch up on to make it so.
