In Which a Group of Characters Wander in a Forest and Play with Butterflies and Sunrays

[Aequus]

This is a roleplay in which nothing much will happen at all. The sun will shine brightly, a light have will make the forest fade into a golden green in the distance. A creek may wander past, lazily and not too loudly -- not so loudly as to risk disturbing any of the daydreams. A spider’s web nearby may catch a few drops from a splash, which will in turn catch a drop of sun. The earth may turn. It might not -- it might just hang in space, basking in the warmth of its nuclear furnace. There will be paths, and not-paths, and sometimes things that are only paths if you want them to be. You can follow them, if you want -- follow them forwards, or backwards, or look over your shoulder and follow them forwards, backwards. Don’t be afraid to stumble -- the grass is soft.

There will be no Plot, though. Nothing will change -- nothing bigger than the trees, anyways -- and there will be no Evil or Bad People to fight. There will most likely be no Bad People at all, unless you want to be one. I’d ask that you not, though -- Bad People tend to do Bad Things, and there are no Bad Things done in the Forest. Things should be... separate. Nothing should make everyone need to pay attention -- if someone want to read a book the whole time, nothing should stop them. Interactions should be small -- one, two, at most three at a time. (For this reason, I’d like to try having people color-code the characters their interacting with: One person by themselves, and another person -- and then the first person interacts with the second, and the second person responds. When interacting with nature, use your color, and nature (me, usually, but if anyone feels like they get the tone feel free to jump in yourself) will respond in the same color. Nature by itself is black.

As to characters: come as you wish, with few exceptions -- power is unnecessary, evil, unless handled in a specifically calm and passive way, will likely lead to conflicts. You are here because you want to be with yourself, first and foremost. Whether that’s the centaur here to frolic, the city kid coming wide-eyed, the twins playing hooky from school, the cyborg coming just to get away -- any time, any place. There’s something about the woods that render everything unsurprising -- yes, you certainly haven’t seen anything like that before in your life, but I wonder: are they nice? will they go play, or explore, or build a tree-fort or take tea with me?. Here is a wood between worlds. This can be the calm in the storm, or another, yet another day of the same. Here is a place you can breathe. Things move slowly here: never run when you can walk, never walk when you can stare up into the trees; never finish in one post what you could stretch into two, or three. Take a small breath every sentence, and a small smile, a short giggle every paragraph. Write, read, and breathe; perhaps have some toast -- warm, and not too spicy.


"The first rule is, that it must be a very hot day -- that we may consider as settled: and you must be just a little sleepy..." -- Sylvie and Bruno, Lewis Carroll


It was, as is -- less often -- written, a bright and calm day. The sun was warm -- perhaps too warm, elsewhere, but here there was shade and stream --, the sky blue, specked and streaked with the most brilliant white clouds. There were birds -- of course there were -- and the occasionally blue butterflies. A light breeze made the trees whisper, and the small stream gurgled a reply. A baby deer bends down to drink -- it’s not, nor should it be, afraid of anything. A rabbit stands nearby -- no rush or worry; any pocket-watch it might have possessed was left at home. The stream wandered, the trees beckoned; the birds chirped. The forest breathed.

[Nayaby]

Sylus continued along the dirt path, dragging his tail behind him. To call it a dirt path was somewhat misleading. It seemed to have the soft feel and texture of dirt under his feet, but although he had been walking for hours (or perhaps days?) there were no traces of soil clumping in his clawed toes, nor even of residue on his scaled soles. It was an altogether pleasant experience, but it seemed almost surreal. Any attempt Sylus made to focus on an aspect of the surreal environment was futile, as if he was incapable of putting together a full coherent thought. So the clean dirt, flawless weather, and lack of predators went unquestioned as he meandered along the path, enjoying the sun's warmth.

[Aequus]

A small moth floated from one bush up, and down into another, the light shining through its wings.
A chipmunk -- still carefree in the late summer, not yet thinking about the fall -- darted partway across the path. It stopped, in its staccato, twitchy way, and looked around.

[Zip]

A patch of grass grew a few measurable units near a tree suited to the flora of the region that a few people found remarkable enough to carve their initials into the tree, inside almost-cohesive heart shapes. The minor imperfections were just perfect for those young couples, who found them to be poetic and a symbol of their modern relationship, and even the source of a silly inside joke.

The patch of grass was without joy that day, and invigorated by yesterday's downpour, continued to thrive in a futile effort to surpass the height of its equally joyless tree neighbor.

[Aequus]

The moth flew, lightly, over to the nearby grass. It landed and stayed there as the grass shook from the new weight. It -- and the grass -- swayed.

[Zip]

An wooden automaton continued to rest amongst the oaks and the ivy, listening to the faint breeze where their heart was supposed to be.

[Aequus]

A sqirrel, sleeping in a tree, suddenly fell onto the grass next to the automaton.

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