• Event • A Door Forgotten (Hwyn)

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A Door Forgotten (Hwyn)

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Saun 40, 718, Time of Trial unknown


Within Armoire Adrift, time was meaningless. There was no sun here, but it was not a land drenched in darkness. There was more than enough light, and color was abound, colors that no mere mortal could perceive. But the source of the light was not evident. It simple was there. On this trial, at least, by the standard of Idalos, Armoire Adrift was quiet, for its only inhabitant was sleeping. For arcs now, the sanctuary had only had the same occupant. Prior to the golden haired's arrival, Armoire Adrift was lonely and alone. It was in a forgotten, unused corner of Daia's vast domain, nestled away somewhere in Emea. It had been one of the first things Daia had built when she carved out this home of hers, but as the wars came, as the struggles intensified, the woman no longer visited one of her oldest friends.

So when Hwyn was brought to Armoire Adrift, the land was happy to have a friend once more. It welcomed the boy with open arms. It showed the boy the many impossible plants that it made. Dancing daisies, leaping lilypads, waltzing grapes, and so many more. They'd been made so that when Daia came to visit, she would stay longer. But instead, along came Hwyn. And so, the little realm did everything within its power to entertain the boy. To make him smile. The plants it made fed the boy, played with him. The colors the realm provided were to compliment the boy's moods and desires.

It even created a doorway for the boy. A doorway into an impossible closet. It was a hallway, impossibly long and neverending, yet every time Hwyn looked behind him, the door was there. The amount of clothes, outfits, accessories that hung on hangers, that were stashed neatly on shelves, that were tucked in little drawers were infinite. It was beyond anyone's imagination. And it was a gift given to Hwyn by Armoire Adrift. And for a while, the realm was happy.

But Daia never returned.

The realm knew something was wrong, but had no way of knowing what, exactly. And for many arcs, it grew closer with the boy, to the point of obsession. It was getting pushy about the need for attention, about the need for Hwyn to smile and to dance and to play and to be its friend. Smothering Hwyn in its desperate. But as time pushed onward outside, soon, Hwyn would see the leaking in of time within this realm. Way off in the distance, the trees and plants that were vibrant and alive, were darkening, starting to die. Inside the closet, dust could start to be found on some of the clothes, others fraying or with moth holes.

And then, she arrived. She appeared out of the thin air, fluttering on her dark purple wings. She looked around, squinting. She then fluttered over to where Hwyn slept, in the center of a massive flower. She knelt down next to him, moved her face an inch away from his, her eyes harsh and severe, her sharpened teeth peeking out from her thin lips.

"Hi! I'm Purple!"
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Re: A Door Forgotten (Hwyn)

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The funny thing about dreams is, at some point you have to accept the dream as reality or go mad? That or going mad is the only way to embrace one’s reality without dying? Questions like this had once been a mainstay for the sole inhabitant but then again, one can beat a dead horse only so many times before it beats you back… or something like that… the details had gotten hazy in the last century….

Regardless when one is trapped in a box with no out it is occasionally perhaps forgivable and give up and let nature run it’s course, however when one’s course is unending then your alternatives become as varied as they do strange. At the very least, Hwyn’s enclosure was amiable enough to do it’s best to entertain him. Thus the two over time became the best of friends… or the best of Mutually benefitting parasites, a grim symbioses formed out of the reality that in the wide and perhaps infinite scope of all things known they were perhaps forgotten and had no alternative beyond a mutual end. Thus they made do, the room and the boy.

The boy for his part provided a near infinite well of ideas and the room did it’s part by attempting to create and embellish these ideas, in an eternal struggle to push the limits of what should be plausible. From rain that tasted like what bubbles should look like. To snow that came in different colors and warmer temperatures and only melted in one’s mouth. The room had it’s own cast of characters two all mute and imagined but no less real to the sole occupant. From Reimous the potted plant to Milly the very handy voice in the closet. Nobody knew what she looked like but she gave pretty decent fashion advice.

Each day spent indifferent to the outside world a small disconnected bastion hidden from the prying eyes of the universe.

On this particular day the boy stood in from of a mirror facing quite the debacle. There was to be an evening showing of upside down rain in the glade and he couldn’t for the life of him decide whether to wear the mint green slip or the White summer dress, the slip was of course the more risqué of the two and the silk was comfy, but the summer dress was cute and of course it would dry faster… and he didn’t want to be wet any longer than he had to be, Milly hated things dripping in her closet, last time he’d left a puddle he’d had nothing to wear for a week and he was most differently certain he’d made the whole glade blush so badly he’d gotten a sunburn. Eventually however he decided on the white summer dress and went out to watch the show.

Taking his seat on a tulip of a perfect size he went to watch the show wich was as per usual lovely the Clouds sponging the rain from the ground as thunder proceeded small strikes of lighting. After a while though the clouds were too full and tired of sipping water from the ground and wandered off to form a pond somewhere. However after such a showing the only reasonable thing was to take a nap and wait on the afternoon teaparty.

However for the first time… since… ever? He had a guest. She was… decidedly Violet… maybe fuchsia… no… no… However before the color to describe her was decided she introduced herself as purple. To which the sole occupant’s response was to briefly blink dumbly in surprise.

“Well if thour’t Purple I must be… green… no… Mint! But Mine given name is Hwyn. Greetings purple, have thee come for tea? I do believe it’s just been brewed.”

Rolling over on his floral cot he grinned at the newcomer either unaware of any danger or blithely disregarding it, waving a hand another flower sprouted into being nearby, teapot and cups in place of nectar and pollen.


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Re: A Door Forgotten (Hwyn)

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"Well met, Mint-Hwyn. I am quite afraid we do not have time for tea."

Then Purple promptly fluttered over to the teacups, and poured herself a cup, slurping a bit loudly at it. "Not mint tea? How strange. Anyways, this isn't a business meeting, but a social visit. I fear I might be a little late though, I hope you weren't waiting long. I found a mushroom."

She hovered about, standing roughly half Hwyn's height, flitting about as she sipped her tea. "Have you found the key yet? Because I don't know how to get back out. Only in. I was told you had the key in here." She looked off into the distance where the edges were dying. "We really must make haste." And with that, Purple floated over to another large flower, which opened up for her, and she laid upon it, falling asleep instantly.

And it was not long before she started to mumble in her sleep.

"One whistle, two scarves, that's what makes the thistle barfs
Three leaves, four smiles, hidden in the sleeves vials.
Five knocks, six strokes, asking the rocks woke
Seven tears, eight legs, wrangle the queer dregs
Nine rhymes, ten oh too late at ten."


Her mumbling seemed to be caught in a loop, repeating once per each time it took a pot of tea to steep just right. And sometimes she snored. And snorted. And occasionally kicked and thrashed and bared her teeth, all in her sleep. However, some strange things were beginning to happen. Should Hwyn go to pour himself tea, he'd find it cold, when it had never once been cold in all his arcs within the Armoire. If he looked out in the distance, it would seem just a shade darker than it had earlier. But the worst... the worst happened while moving about. One of the seams on his trousers split.

Something was seriously wrong.

But the question was, where to start?


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Re: A Door Forgotten (Hwyn)

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Perhaps there is something to be said about being vaccinated against madness, or perhaps it’s simply having the right amount of madness in you. Regardless Hwyn found that while mildly inconvenient he was not alarmed nor frightened by his current situation if anything he was relieved that things were changing; monotony was not his flavor. He need to find a key, well that was hardly ideal and yet it was simply the case.

What was bad was that he promptly discovered his tea had gone cold and the colors of the sky were bleeding. It wasn’t even that time of the month. Then, just as he was settling on the proper amount of morose to experience his pants split, That was simply too much. His clothes that had previously been the epitome of flair, were now moth eaten, as if all the years had caught up with fast forward dry rot. Ripping his now decidedly useless clothing off of himself with gusto he frowned before checking the mirror and grinning, Nudity didn’t harm his je ne sais quoi in the slightest, though if he left the mortals might be in trouble. Regardless he didn’t have time to stroke his… ego.

Key… where in the world was their going to be a key in this place, he knew the nooks and crannies of this place better than anyone… right?

Walking into his closet he shouted out “Milly I know thee aren’t exactly feeling great but if there’s a key in here somewhere I could really use it. I’m most sertain the only way to reverse what’s going on in here won’t cease unless I leave and procure something to fix this place so provide me aid.”

Giving Milly a moment to process what was goin on Hwyn walked out into the glade again and looked up at the sky, he didn’t like the idea of playing along with silly riddles or other such odd games he wanted a direct route to get what he wanted.

“I know that thou can hear me room and I know when thour’t ignoring me. I don’t wanna die, nor thee, so lets make this easy, prove me with an exit and I’ll find a way to restore thine former glory”

Hopefully the environment had some sense of self preservation and decided to release him else he was going to have to start doing some foot work.


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Milly, as she was so elegantly named, took the time to process Hwyn's demand. But the Armoire in its entirety responded much more quickly. It knew what Hwyn had wished for, and had yearned to present the exit to the beautiful young man. But it was under orders not to do so, for his own protection. And it was those same orders that the room used to allow its disobedience. Hwyn needed protection, not within the room, but from the death it was experiencing. He was too beautiful and perfect to die. His light should never be snuffed.

And so the room obliged the mortalborn.

The door to the wardrobe, to Milly, was still open. But it now creaked open to the fullest extent that its hinges would allow. Then a door frame appeared around the door. It was quite clearly a double door. And a keyhole appeared beneath the knob now. The door had arrived.

But from within Milly, there was not so much a cry as there was the emotional outburst as though one had cried. A single emotional sob of pain. Within Milly, the infinite closet was cycling the outfits through endlessly, a whirlwind of design and fashion as they passed along the edges of the corridor. There was panic exuding from Milly. And that's when it could be seen. The end of the endless closet, a mere twenty yards from the doorway.

A wall.

A wall with a painting of Edasha upon it, smiling down at her baby boy as she sat upon a cloud of the finest gold. And with a loud tearing sound, the painting split, sending a lightning shaped scar down through her perfect form. This was followed by the wall cracking, and a long, black hand with yellowed nails that had clearly never once been manicured reached out. It didn't seem to be able to see into Milly, but the arm was grasping, reaching, looking to get ahold of anything.

Beneath the painting, a small chest of draws, with an intricate mirror atop it, and in a small, ornate bowl, a golden key. The ugly hand though, with its reaching, grasping, was blocking the way, and it seemed that soon, it might grab the key.

Meanwhile, purple in her slumber, "Always just the one key, the most important key of them all."




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Re: A Door Forgotten (Hwyn)

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There were times, times when the mortal born gained clarity, or at least an awareness that there were things beyond his world, and that those things… those things mattered. His home was being torn apart before his eyes, his friends, In what he’d come to accept as his home. Now this place that was his to steward was in danger and he couldn’t bring himself to allow this fate to claim him.

Bolting forward Hwyn grabbed a voluminous and metallic dress as he ran stretching between his hands so as to capture the grasping hand briefly and perhaps long enough to distract it. Once the Dress was over the hand Hwyn snatched both the key and bowl before dropping flat grasping at the most bottom drawer Hwyn reached in side fumbling about until he found something he could grab before rolling away and bolting. Pumping his legs like he’d never have to the nude immortal ran without looking back, he knew this place was in pain but his only chance of saving it was escaping right now. Running he could feel it behind him a rack whipping pas his head as he ran, he swore he could hear some struggle behind him as if the wardrobe itself was shielding him with it’s already broken body. He choked back a sob as he ran, he didn’t want to leave this place, it was his home.

As he burst out of the wardrobe he ran over to his new purple companion sleeping without a care in the word. He considered briefly leaving them but the idea left a foul taste in his mouth, and furthermore they might be useful. Scooping the fairy up he cast one more woeful look back before forging onward to the door and slamming the key into the lock with a dreadful sense of finality, he wouldn’t forget this place, he would return…

With that he attempted to push the door open ready for whatever future it might spew out upon him. He’d accepted this new fate with bitter equanimity his limbs working on their own as self-preservation drove him to make decisions he thought himself incapable of.


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The hand that Hwyn made so well dressed continued to snatch through the cloth, but was unable to find purchase on Hwyn, nor the key. And the items Hwyn had gathered from the bottom drawer had been specially selected for him by the wardrobe itself. It always knew that one day Hwyn would have to leave it, and ever since Daia knew, it had known that day would come sooner than later. For while Hwyn had been immune to the passage of time, not only by his Mortalborn heritage but by the very nature of the Armoire, the Wardrobe had felt every single one. After all, it managed to keep up with the latest fashions from all over Idalos, but it could only do that by maintaining a connection to the mortal world.

And so, it had prepared a special drawer for Hwyn. Within it, a sparkly, leather vest, that felt like silk but stopped blades as effectively as steel chainmail. Dark green trousers that would never let the man get too hot or cold. A particularly garish corded belt, high heeled dark brown leather boots, and a bright red cavalier with a white feather on top. No underwear, of course. And one final gift, the hardest thing for the Wardrobe to come by. A crimson, with a metallic sheen, bull whip, whose handle was of the finest ivory and of the perfect size to fit Hwyn's hand.

Purple didn't wake when Hwyn scooped her up, though she stirred a little, mumbling, "Goblins or trees, always come in threes." She then cuddled closer around Hwyn's neck, finding comfort in his strong embrace without impeding his ability to carry her to safety.

As the door opened up to Hwyn, the world flashed white and it pulled Hwyn through.

The naked mortalborn with his sleeping companion was thrust straight into a ballroom. It was the same ballroom Jesine had once shown to Arlo, but quite different. For Jesine had shown him what Daia's domain had looked like while the Immortal lived. But now that she was dead, it was so very different.

People still danced there, all of whom had been some of Daia's most favorite followers. They still wore the masks without eyeholes, but the masks were cracked, chipped, faded. Their ornate garb was wilted, frayed, dusty, full of holes from moths. And there was no nice bright lighting here, no coziness one might expect in a ballroom. It was a world of black, white, and so many greys.

The dancing was not smooth, elegant, nor even fun. The ghosts of Daia's followers moved like rickety, wooden puppets, staggered staccato movements. And though the movements unnatural, they still managed to move in sync, with the rhythm of an unseen band playing a slow, sad song.

Behind Hwyn, the door to the Armoire shut and locked itself, growing a gold chain around the key, dropping it around his neck. In the center of the key's bow, a small, ornate door could be seen. The door to the Armoire. The wall the door had been in was once more just a wall. The music came to an end, and all of the eyeless faces turned toward Hwyn and Purple. If Hwyn payed close attention, he'd see that himself, the items he carried, and Purple were the only things in color in the entire ballroom.

One couple broke away from the dance floor, moving toward Hwyn, hand in hand. The man spoke, "Have you come to join us? We will be doing the Vrienna Waltz soon." The woman, in her faded ball gown, with corset full of busted strings, "Oh please do, we're dying to dance with someone new. Unless you're hungry. The buffet table is through that door in the back."

The woman gestured behind her. There were three doors on the far wall, across the dance floor, one on the far left, one in the center, and one on the far right.

"But you must certainly get dressed. You'll catch your death of a cold."


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Re: A Door Forgotten (Hwyn)

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Perhaps he was simply to used to the strangeness of emea, but his journey out of the Armoire and into a monochrome ballroom was more an inconvenience than anything else the true implications of his dire situation still not fully understood by him. Juggling Purple the wayward mortalborn dressed himself quickly belting the whip to his flamboyant attire and once again standing tall with Purple nestled to his chest. Casting his eyes over the colorless ballroom the mortalborn frowned his own and purples especially vibrant colors stood out so much in this place that he felt a grim unease. Would this place take his color as well?

Frowning at the colorless pair that approached him he cast his eyes about for direction. While he had no intention of joining them in a dance he needed to figure out how to get away from this place. Looking towards the buffet the mortal born strode stiffly through the macabre waltz taking little head of his surroundings except for any evidence of an exit. He found the fingers of his free hand coiling reflexively around the handle of the whip he’d been given comforted by the knowledge that he had a weapon. Step after step the mortalborn would forge forward through the remnants of the dying domain, the significance of the desolation unseen still by him.

“well, at least I’ve got you purple” He said to the unconscious creature in his arms, more for himself than for her benefit. He wasn’t sure what the small creature was but so far it had at the very least not been antagonistic unlike most other things that he had encountered. “but where are we?”

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This place did not, in fact, take Hwyn's color. But it also did not change from its own grays. Purple muttered in her sleep, "A mausoleum..."

One of the dancers approached as the Vrienna Waltz took flight. It charged the air, a dance that could only be described as morbidly energetic. A party of death. The approaching dancer smiled at Hwyn, not slowing or stopping his dance, "This is the Palace of Lions, the greatest ballroom in all of Idalos and Emea alike. Now, will you be joining us..?"

As they danced, so too did all the furniture around the ballroom. The chairs were spinning, the curtains waving, the paintings were wiggling. This was stirring up dust in the room, which in turned, joined the dancing. "Or perhaps you'd like a bite to eat? You should wake your friend."


The dancer moved in close to Purple, touching her hair and wings, smiling fondly down at her, "She would be so lovely in motion. No one should stand still, not when they could be dancing." Eyes were cast up on to Hwyn's own, "You as well."

The dancer returned to the rest of his compatriots, and as they danced, there were two noticeable gaps in the formation they were using, clearly reserved for Hwyn and Purple. But in the center of the dancing, there was another larger gap in the center, one that was brimming with power but could be felt as incomplete.
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