Submission (#2756) Approved

Submitted

29 September 2021, 11:35:40 PDT (2 years ago)

Processed

2 October 2021, 09:14:17 PDT (2 years ago) by night-class

Comments

Technically a sort of two-for-one deal, since I didn't finish my August prompt in time.

Regional Affinity: Faerindell
Elnin: https://worldofeyre.com/character/ELN332

Content

Orris woke surrounded by scarlet poppies. With an uneasy yawn, he stretched out stiff azure paws, trying to figure out how long he'd been asleep. A nagging feeling at the back of his mind suggested it must have been quite some time. He didn't want to dwell on it.

As he stumbled to his feet, little puffs of pollen danced around Orris's paws, followed by a fog of groggy heaviness threatening to lure him right back into whatever Rip Van Winkle nonsense he had just managed to pull himself out of. Nope. None of that.

Orris sneezed, scowling at the bed of dreaded little sleep flowers. He half-tiptoed, half-scampered in his awkward efforts to find safer ground, waiting until he was fully certain the pollen had settled before attempting a new, more cautious approach.

Under the gentle glow of the forest's giant bioluminescent mushroom flora, and his violet eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness of wild Silveil, Orris was able to give the flowers a better investigation under more controlled circumstances. Carefully.

As far as he could tell, these weren't Trueslumber Poppies. If these specimens had been anywhere near as potent, he wouldn't have woken up without assistance, if he ever woke up at all. Tilting his head, Orris tested the scent of the flowers with the quickest of sniffs. No metallic or sulfuric aroma, so nothing cursed or miasmic.

Orris felt ashamed to admit it to himself, but maybe these were just normal Slumber Poppies. He'd simply been careless somehow. Still, being this far from home, he must have been sent to gather alchemical samples. Master Brewster was not known to be patient.

With fur bristling down his spine as he imagined the stinging lecture he'd receive from his mentor, Orris stumbled through the shimmering forest foliage, dragging his leather travel satchel back with him. The less time he spent fumbling with the Slumber Poppies, the better.

Fetching his foraging kit, Orris extracted some flowers with practiced paws, letting the samples and their noxious pollen rest a moment. Enough time to direct them a good solid glare to feel better. When he felt them safe to handle, he rolled the flowers into a linen cloth, then tucked them away in a sample pouch. Safe and secluded.

Orris allowed himself a little moment of pride as he cleaned and sorted away his tools. Wild poppies were difficult to harvest. Even if no one believed him, he'd managed a clean identification and extraction this time, all by his lonesome! Earlier mistakes didn't take away from present success, after all.

A noise like a thunderclap crackled overhead, illuminating just enough of the night sky over the mushroom caps to show off a fountain of rainbow sparkles. Fireworks. Orris wondered what sort of party Silveil City was holding. Perhaps he could figure out how much time had passed since he'd left home.

Another dramatic burst of color dazzled the night, and the skies responded with their own light show. Orris watched, entranced, as a shower of stars cascaded across the dark horizon, to the distant cheers of city crowds. Maybe a wish...

Before he could complete that thought, Orris spotted flashes of light quite a lot closer than fireworks or stars. Little motes of silver flame danced near his paws, flickering and flittering just out of reach. Wisps. The falling stars really had fallen, which meant the moon was not long to follow.

So the celebration was for Starfall Faire. Orris couldn't imagine any sane master sending their apprentices out so close to miasma season. A new shudder ran down his spine. He couldn't waste time wondering how much time he'd lost. Far scarier worries loomed not long over the horizon.

With satchel over shoulder and star wisps guiding his path, almost as though they had wills of their own, Orris tread lightly across the enchanted forest, toward Silveil City. The dangers lurking in the wilds soon passed, and Orris found himself back in the shadow of civilization.

Saying farewell to his little star guides as the wisps joined up with so many others, seemingly enjoying the festivities as much as the Elnin, Orris found new guides to point out the safer traveled paths toward Faerindell.

A moment to rest and refresh his supplies, and certainly to indulge in some tantalizing party snacks to munch on, and Orris found himself back on track to return home, with his original apprentice task complete.

Pink petals scattered across a well-worn footpath were the first sign Orris recognized that he was approaching home. The sky overhead glittered with the last vestiges of starlight, and the first blush of dawn peeked just over the horizon. The wind felt much cooler than he remembered last, but it still brought the familiar scent of floral perfume.

Orris paused a moment in his trek, taking a drink from his waterskin. Sunlight began to spill onto the forest floor, illuminating the world in bright gold, and startled nocturnal fauna retreated toward the cool darkness beyond the outskirts of the woodland fringes.

Pale ferns curled into tight knots against the encroaching sunrise. Even the most stubborn of deep forest flora and mushrooms lost their glimmer and glow. By contrast, the dawn chorus of autumn songbirds raised their voices, as though welcoming the new day. A newly chill breeze rustled the grasses and rattled the young saplings.

Locals affectionately dubbed the border crossing between Silveil and Faerindell the Faeveil, spinning fanciful tales of wild magic and strange happenings where the boundary between worlds wore thin.

Orris loved those stories when he was a much smaller Kittom. He'd once imagined fae dragons dancing in the corner of his vision, and pixies whisking him away to pocket realms where he was smaller than a toadstool. Sadly, he mused, the Faeveil remained exactly that. Just stories.

Shrugging his shoulders to adjust the weight of his satchel, Orris hastened his steps down the dirt path. Though he knew the road to be safe, he still had miles to tread on small paws if he wanted to be home before dusk. Best to keep moving.

What had once been majestic mushrooms ceded ground completely to deciduous forest growth, with enchanted fungus caps replaced by a canopy of broad green leaves and delicate pink blossoms tangled among the branches overhead. Rolling hills and little valleys added some character to the winding forest path.

Excitement tickled the back of Orris's mind as he found himself cresting a familiar hill. He balanced across a worn log, one of many acting as a sort of staircase for the steeper incline ahead. He knew this place. The Wishing Pool was nearby! He was making far better time than he realized.

Bounding down the hillside and across underbrush, Orris darted through a medley of purple coneflowers and yellow goldenrod and blush pink wild rosa, finally pausing at the banks of a tiny natural pool. Tradition demanded one stop and make a wish when passing through this place. His grumbling stomach, though, demanded food first.

Orris flopped beside the shore with a few pawfuls of trail mix, the last of his travel rations. The contented gurgle of the Wishing Pool, and a pair of roseate dragonflies skimming the water for their own meals, made for good snacking company. It wasn't lunch, but it would get him home.

The thought of lunch made his stomach rumble in earnest. Visions of all his favorite foods danced in his imagination as Orris scooped a speckled pond stone into his paws. His first wish, he hoped his favorite chicken stew was ready for dinner.

His second, and he hoped the Pool didn't think him greedy, he wished that Master Brewster wouldn't be too upset with him. The polished rock sank into the depths alongside so many other wishing stones, leaving only ripples behind.

Orris gave quiet thanks and packed up his satchel to resume his long walk home. Only one way to find out if his wishes came true.

The closer he found himself to Elenion, the more Orris found himself enveloped in the soft pink embrace of the local weeping sakura trees. A veritable rainbow of wildflowers emblazoned the trail ahead, some flanking his steps, some gracing the tree boughs as the region's famous faerie shrouds.

Autumn did little to fade the whimsical colors of Faerindell's flowers. The changing of the seasons only cycled which blossoms graced the stage. Orris still felt grateful for the familiar homecoming welcome.

One footbridge over the winding brook to cross. One bumpy toad on a lilypad to nod to. One last big hill to climb. All were things Orris knew very well, and he knew the view across the grassy slope even more so.

His heart still soared when he spotted those landmarks, the orchards and gardens, the daycare, the alchemist's lab, the apprentice's quarters, all in the nearby distance. It took all his willpower to resist running downhill and likely tumbling in the process.

His mood soared even higher when he spotted a familiar gray-furred Elnin in her garden. His foster mother, an older Elnin who everyone just called Nan. Abandoning his satchel by the gate, Orris tackled his guardian in a great big hug.

"Nan! Nan, I'm home!"

"Orris? Goodness, Orris, where have you been?"

Starting into a happy ramble, Orris detailed his escapades in the forests of Silveil, up until harvesting the poppies, before trailing off mid-sentence and staring up at his guardian. Realization dawned on him that something in her demeanor seemed... off.

Nan swept him into another hug, a little longer and tighter than he expected. The worry and tension crinkling her face was obvious.

"Orris, sweetie. Please join the other Kittoms in the pear orchard. Nan has some words to exchange with Master Brewster."

Eyes wide and tail tucked between his paws, Orris obediently did as he was told. The Nan everyone knew was sunshine and cookies and warm hugs. Orris had never heard Nan so much as raise her voice, never mind speak with ice in her tone.

He really didn't want to be around when Nan found Master Brewster.

"Hey, is that Orris?"

He'd barely set a foot on the orchard grounds before a swarm of fellow Kittoms piled around him. Questions and the occasional odd accusation flew like a storm, and Orris did his best to answer everything. Finally he just started telling the tale he began sharing with Nan.

Slowly the other Kittoms wandered back to their crates and stepladders, returning to their chores, until he was the only one left. Orris pouted a little. Clearly he was better at having adventures than telling them. Guess he had to work too.

Orris stood on tiptoes to peer into a crate, finding it halfway full of bright golden pears, thick with the cloying scent of fermented honey. He received a bop on the nose and a gentle reprimand from a nearby worker Elnin. The Sweetpears were for picking and packing, not for snacking.

Sniffing his displeasure at the unnecessary rebuke; he didn't even like Sweetpears anyway, Orris plucked a pear to place in the crate. The fruit felt heavy in his paws, and even with claws sheathed, he managed to bruise the tender flesh.

Part of the risk of growing Sweetpear was how easily the fruit over-ripened before it was ready to harvest. The sweet fruit was popular outside of Faerindell, especially in tropical Palu'au where everything tasted like summer, but so many pears spoiled in transit.

Orris absentmindedly tossed the golden pear back and forth between his paws, mulling over his thoughts. Why was everyone content to just let good fruit go to waste in storage and shipment? Surely something could be done to protect the pears.

Maybe there was.

Realizing his paws were sticky with Sweetpear juice, Orris sheepishly dropped the mangled fruit into the nearest crate, then darted away toward the nearby pasture. To his chagrin, all the other Kittoms seemed to notice his departure.

"Hey, Orris! No fair, where are you going?"

"Bet you all my snacks Orris is gonna go snooze somewhere. Leave us all the work. We should tell!"

"Eww, no! No one like a tattle-snitch!"

Orris ignored the outcries and taunts of his peers, as well as the curious attention of a lone milk cow, his focus squared on a mess of wild shrubs bordering the pasture fence line. With any luck, he'd be back before the adults started asking questions.

It didn't take long for him to spot his prize, entwined around a flowering laurel almost to the point of strangling the shrub entirely. A silvery vine, dotted with dainty gray blossoms, catching just enough of the afternoon light to appear like tarnished metal.

The species was called Tinkvine, known to most as an obnoxious weed that choked out more desirable plants. Few crimes in Faerindell were considered more heinous than threatening a prized flowering tree or shrub. Old folklore told of fae nobles cursing the plant, as it reminded them of cold iron, and the vine responded by attacking their sacred gardens.

His tutelage under Master Brewster taught Orris that all flora had interesting properties if you just investigated. Orris reached out a paw to confirm his suspicions. The flowers were cold to the touch. Perfect.

With Tinkvine harvested and secured in his mouth, Orris trotted back to the orchard. He suddenly found himself faced with smug looks from his peers and the withering stares of so many worker Elnin. The silence was awful.

Orris started to mumble an explanation, dropping the Tinkvine at his feet.

"They're for the crates. The Sweetpears are overripe this season, they won't survive shipment. Not so far as Enmir or Ealei." Orris held the silver vine up in his paws, gesturing toward the blossoms. "Tinkflowers. They mimic certain metals in alchemy by neutralizing gases up to a point. They're also a stable cold source."

He spotted most of the Kittoms glazed over in disinterest, and even the adults looked confused. Orris fidgeted a bit. Not good. "Th-they'll act as a natural refrigerant and absorb ripening gases to keep the Sweetpears stable in shipment."

Still blank stares. "...that way we don't have to do double the work."

That everyone understood.

To his relief the crowd finally broke apart, most sprinting and rough-housing in the rough direction of the pastures, the adults moving to supervise and direct the Kittoms. Everyone seemed pleased to have a moment's diversion from the Sweetpear harvest.

Orris puffed his chest in a moment of pride. Look who harvested Slumber Poppies, braved the wilderness, and even saved the Sweetpears. This Kittom. This Kittom was awesome. Maybe a quick nap under the Sweetpear trees as a reward, he thought. He deserved it.

Rewards

Reward	Amount
Elecite Coins	8

Characters

ELN332: Orris 🌠

Reward	Amount
AP (Faerindell) (Currencies)	1