Pumpkins And Orchard Apples.

Thu Oct 24, 2024 10:38 pm

Nix admonished herself every day. "Do more.” An unyielding obligation to integrity clashed violently with the surreal expediency of a reality that gnawed at the very foundation of her. ”Be better.” House Pendragon had always served as a sanctuary, a bastion of solace amid a world where deceit was the currency of survival. It stood like a fortress built brick by brick, each stone a testament to her struggles, rising beyond the chaotic shoreline of her existence. Daily, an unreachable vision of returning to Avalon stretched out before her lidless eyes. It was a dream adrift in an ocean of uncertainty accompanying a thirst that the sea’s waters could not quench.

Errant daydreams tugged at her focus, draped in the silken veils of vague silhouettes, chivalrous ideals, glinting regalia, and standards adorned with the colours of her home. These reveries, like delicate glass, held a subtle beauty, each thought a shimmering reflection of her hopes and fears. They were grand yet vulnerable, their intricacies woven with meticulous care that spoke of the painstaking artistry behind them. Undisturbed in contemplation, Nix probed the insidiously devious details hidden within the mundane. Her unwavering faith in transcending the simplicity of her ardent desires strove, stirring a tempest within her, demanding her to loosen the rigid constraints of her temperance. As if in a crucible, Nix’s fervour ignited the dullness of anything she deemed significant, breathing vibrant life into it, revealing hidden layers and complexities. The ordinary danced before her, no longer trivial but brimming with potential.

With thoughtfully constrained introspection, Nix highlighted the obvious dissimilarities that existed between commonality and uniqueness, illuminating how each interacted with the other. This insubstantial interplay showcased a profound respect for ideation while simultaneously acknowledging their shared essence. A discernible contrast emerged, stark and vivid, between the object’s original intent and its current state. From its humble beginnings, it journeyed through numerous phases and challenges, evolving into something remarkably different. Contentions against the primarily intended use prevailed as Nix reverently asserted the precursive matter’s capabilities were greater than originally conceived. Over time, progressively, Nix’s internal dissension considered the platonic elements that comprised each object, and how the ravages of time’s deterioration, corrosion, and erosion transformed them into something uniquely identifiable. What once was ordinary became a testament to resilience, marked by the scars of existence underneath the scope of a Pendragon’s sight. This mental process had evolved into more than a habit; it became a meditative ritual, reflecting the circumspect idiosyncrasies expected of a Pendragon. Yet, even with her rich heritage and the weight of her ancestry, Nix felt the tug of a world that moved faster than she could grasp. Each step past the shinobi realm’s veil felt like trudging through the earth’s anomalous surface-level truth. Her pace was a laggard's in a race where others thrived on deceit and agility. Having witnessed the relegation of the oligarchal regime in Kirigakure, she reaffirmed her convictions with a heavy heart. In this life, amidst the shadows and whispers, it was always sink or swim.

Late for the ball. ~
Nix was suddenly approached by an ankle biter, who was approximately knee-high to a grasshopper, stirring her from reverie’s solitude. This youngster proffered an opportunity, an introduction with a qualm. The ordeal contributed to absolving, allaying and scattering Nix’s thoughts. The Pendragon squire formally renounced her idleness diligently in an attempt to aid the troubled child with their predicament. Their voice’s timbre was resonant and held eloquent notions that kicked the hokiest of pokies metaphorically through Nix’s front door. Lisping, the child enquired about Nix’s extraordinarily renowned ability to find a suitable pumpkin. Discernibly, whether the child was being exceptionally picky or not, Nix realised that the young child was interested in the very pumpkin she had elected to carve herself. Reluctantly, and with no small amount of satisfaction, Nix relinquished the frivolity of carving the leathery flesh of the vegetable to the amused youth. As Fall crept in, Nix realised she needed to discover new adventures to fill her days and ward off the impending chill of boredom.

Nix reluctantly relinquished the vibrant vegetable to the envious child, the decision heavy on her heart. The pursuit of the perfect pumpkin had turned out to be more than just a simple quest; it had become a lesson in perspective and generosity. Her small act of kindness was a reflection of the deep gratitude she felt for the warm hospitality extended to her by Kirigakure. “A person is great by deeds, not by birth,” She reminded herself, allowing the phrase to echo in her mind. The child, a cookie-cutter of youthful determination, was a stubbornly shrewd ankle-biter with bright eyes that sparkled with mischief. Nix noticed how they listened, like the unusual cadence and accent of her voice, was regarded with wavering interest. When their conversation concluded, she praised the young one’s persistence and eloquence, a gesture that brought a proud smile to the child’s face. The squire felt a budding friendship blossom between them, and the invitation to join the upcoming festivities seemed like a delightful opportunity rather than an obligation.

As they walked, Nix felt the ardour of her role as a visitor. It was a deep-seated desire to help the locals that drove Nix, and her immediate objective was to ensure the pumpkin and the child reached home safely. Yet, something within Nix sensed that providence was nudging her toward a more significant contribution to this inviting community. As they traversed the winding paths of Kirigakure, the child realised that the pumpkin's beauty might incite jealousy among others. Nix took on the burden, balancing the pumpkin with ease, a silent vow to protect their precious prize. The streets bustled with the excitement of villagers preparing for the harvest festival, laughter echoing against the quaint buildings and the smell of fresh produce wafting through the air. Nix couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation building around her, wondering how the locals would react to her leisurely commute through their lively village. For the most part, they seemed oblivious to her presence, until one particularly boisterous citizen, a stocky man with a bushy beard and a jovial demeanour, hastily approached them. With an eager glint in his eye, he attempted to purchase the pumpkin from Nix, much to the child’s chagrin. While Nix appreciated the attention, she knew she had to clarify, “This pumpkin isn’t for sale.” Her tone was polite yet firm, ensuring that the man understood her commitment to the child and the significance of their mission. Nix listened intently as the man shared insights into the cultivation of such a resilient crop, his patriotism and pride evident as he detailed how the enriched soil contributed to its remarkable quality.

After navigating the village's congested streets, they finally arrived at a modest yet welcoming home. Inside, the walls were adorned with simple but meaningful decorations, reflecting the warmth of a close-knit family. One parent greeted them with a friendly, albeit cautious, demeanour. “Thank you for escorting our dear child home. To whom do we owe the pleasure?” Nix introduced herself with a graceful curtsy. “I am Nix, of House Pendragon.”The parent’s expression shifted to one of satisfaction, reassured by the genuine smile from their child and the respectful introduction. As the conversation turned to the pumpkin, everyone’s attention gravitated toward it, its orange hue and perfect shape igniting admiration. They discovered its impressive durability during the carving process, an enchanting task that filled the room with laughter and creativity. Acquainted with the nuances of carving a pumpkin, Nix embellished the design with fine flourishes that would eek into the flesh of the lantern over time. Subsequently, the triumphant carving session concluded, and Nix's attention turned to the child's pressing need for a costume. The parent, a trace of disappointment flickering in their eyes, revealed that the costume they had initially hoped for was no longer in stock. Sensing the child's yearning and the parent's concern, Nix felt a surge of eagerness to help. With a warm smile, Nix proposed to take the child to the bustling nearby markets, determined to find a delightful alternative that would spark joy and magic in their Hallow’s Eve festivities.

The markets, prismatic refractions of colours and sounds, were alive with vendors hawking their wares. Stalls brimmed with rich fabrics, intricate trinkets, and delectable treats. As they navigated the maze of activity, Nix remained vigilant, keenly aware of the potential for mischief. She scanned the crowd for any pranksters who might disrupt their mission or attempt to snatch their chosen costume. With a sense of purpose, they approached various stalls, each more enticing than the last. The child’s enthusiasm was infectious, their eyes lighting up at every new possibility. As they browsed, Nix noticed that the child hadn’t quite settled on any particular idea. Given that the parents were emphasising the importance of letting the child’s whim guide the final choice, she began to feel a bit concerned, wanting to ensure that they found something the child would truly love. As they wandered deeper into the lively chaos, Nix’s mind drifted to her heritage. The heavy burden of deciphering the ancient secrets of her Pendragon lineage swirled in her thoughts. Each mystery beckoned to her, interwoven with the shadows of stealth and the radiant legacy of her bloodline. It was a benign dance of intrigue, pulling at the very core of her identity, a reminder of who she was and the path she was destined to follow. The laughter of the child pulled her back to the present, and with renewed determination, Nix resolved to make this day unforgettable. Not just for the child, but for herself as well.

An eon of reflection passed quickly as Nix deduced that elegant silks and expensive linens had done little to placate the child. Disapproval of garish, ghoulish garments resounded between the two. After considerable deliberation, they eventually reached an accord. Rekindling their shared enthusiasm, Nix couldn’t help but feel a twinge of scepticism about the earlier moments of futility and despondency. Despite this lingering doubt, they exchanged an affirmative nod. Together, they acknowledged that their previous struggles had not been in vain; their scrutiny had led them to a successfully unique outcome, and in that realisation was a sense of comfort and reassurance that made it all worthwhile.

“Feeling snazzy?” Finger guns were unholstered and tipped towards the small armoured knight, who fired them back, "Exceptionally snazzy.” Spoke the diminutive albeit brazen voice from underneath the visor of their helmet. When Nix was selecting the materials for designing the suit of armour, careful consideration was given to several critical factors. These included the weight of the materials themselves, the overall encumbrance that would result from their use, and the strength and capabilities of the individual who would be utilising the final product. This assessment ensured that the materials chosen would not only constitute a lightweight composition but would also provide durability and functionality suitable for the user's needs. Although it deviated from what shinobi considered conventional, even Nix was emboldened by the sight of the outlandish armour of House Pendragon. In every respect, the expertise, and dedication that only a Pendragon could conjure was apparent in the refinement of its meticulous components. From construction to assembly, the suit was a caricature, but it was one of quality.

Over the next few days, time marched a tortoise’s crawl. Nix was to be found vigil over the dense mist enveloping the villagers going about their preparations. Discomposed the genin’s eerie stillness gave way to sleepless pacing, her clasped hands praying fervently for concise guidance. Countless nights found her wide awake, peering deeply into the gloom that encroached therein every nook. Each moment, for her, seemed to extend forever. Nix’s incorrigible efforts towards reconciliation between her ideals and the shinobi didn't always affirmatively resonate with Pendragon’s creed or the ninja’s way. She discerned an attritional notion of defiance would be punishable, not only by her family but also by the village. Spectating from an unobtrusive ledge Nix noticed the dwindling light of lanterns, lamps and the day’s passing, illuminating the villagers, who were going about their preparations for Hallow’s Eve. Inconspicuous and subtle, the shinobi were tireless, diligent and becoming contemptuously familiar.

Interchangeability and convenience struggled alongside one another, against Nix’s conservatively gallant doctrines of chivalry. The young woman was engulfed by the pervasive efficacy of her egocentric and impulsive whims. Her predisposition’s allure was like a golden fog bordering all that she had once predetermined to be malevolent. It was an ancient dragon unfurling its wings, and the emptiness of nothing that encompassed its maw stood ajar. From the hungry sharp-toothed mandible of the darkness billowed the scathing flames of incomprehensibly disparate unfulfilled oaths. Against a litany of hopelessness and a malaise of whisper-thin utterances of doubt, Nix stood mute, abject, unafraid. The pensively incandescent null, undulated before her every time she closed her eyes, and it mirrored her dauntless imposition of will.

Word Count: 2,169/3,500
Claims: Pure Blooded Shinobi {Skill} [Previous Word Count]2,236 + 1,764 = 4000 / 4000 {Skill Learned!}
405/????
Statistics: +7 Chakra, +5 Vigour, +8 Speed.

Rewards: : 1,000 Ryo / 5 AP / 5 Fall Fest Tickets
Reward:2,500 Ryo / 12 AP / 10 Fall Fest Tickets