Capes and Quills- a collection of tales

  The two girls arrived in a town, finding a family all playing together near a fountain in the town square. Staring at them for a moment, the family noticed the two girls and gave them a smile, Sarafelle approaching and the Traveler nervously following behind. “Good morning!” the mother spoke, Sarafelle giving a playful curtsy and the couple’s daughter attempting a shaky one in response. The Traveler sat on the edge of the fountain, the child approaching her and doing another curtsy, a much better one. As music began to play from street performers, the child began to dance, Sarafelle giggling and copying her. Then, she pulled the Traveler in, the cloaked girl being taken by surprise as Sara took her hands. She remembered dancing as a child, but she was a bit clumsy on her feet, Sara taking it slower and teaching her the steps. Soon, all three of them were dancing together, the Traveler going a bit red but enjoying the music. Sarafelle then took her hands, spinning her around and a...

  It was…warm. The Traveler groaned slightly, her mind regaining consciousness. Finding the strength to open her eyes, she realized she was lying down on a bed, looking at the room around her. Though she had never seen it before, something about it was familiar. Her eyes rested on an old fishing rod and hat, dusty and unused for quite some time. Judging by the size, it seemed the items would be used by a child. Suddenly, the door to her room opened, the girl hiding under the blanket and trying to fake sleep as someone approached. Gently, the person sat down on the bed and moved the blanket back slightly, placing a hand on her head and then a soft, warm cloth. The Traveler opened her eyes slightly, seeing the familiar brown hair and pinafore…Sarafelle.  Sara was preparing some sort of medicine, before turning and noticing the Traveler was looking up at her. Giving a sweet smile, she finished the little brew and handed it to the Traveler for her to drink, it tasted quite bitter ...

  The Traveler decided to leave the city, wandering down a path away. The landscape once more shifted around her, back to the familiar snowy pine trees and small villages she was so familiar with. She’d managed to go in a circle- but this didn’t surprise her, considering she was directionless in her pursuit for 100 tales. She still needed 55…she sighed. The days were becoming tiresome. Simply search for a tale and flee before anyone might learn too much about her. She found herself unsure of how long this had gone on, and how much longer it might. The girl felt as if she was stuck at one point, suffering as the world moved on around her and left her to crumble. A giggle snapped her out of her thoughts, her gaze resting on a small girl playing fetch with her dog. She threw a stick in the Traveler’s direction, the dog immediately rushing to get it but stopping when it noticed the stranger. The little girl approached, unsure what was wrong, before shyly greeting the Traveler, who sat ...

  Reaching one final shop, the Traveler felt her knees go weak once more. She hadn’t slept since the nightmare, and tried to waft it away. Both Marcielle and the hatred of her family weighed on her mind, making the young girl incredibly depressed and hindering her search for 100 tales, due to her demotivation and exhaustion getting the better of her. As she walked inside, a bell rang and startled her, the elderly shopkeeper approaching her and giving a warm smile. “Welcome home.” he whispered, the Traveler looking at him, puzzled. The old man chuckled. “Well, I say that to all my guests. Since this is not only my shop, but my home, I want my customers to feel the same way. Now, what can I do for you?” He spoke, the Traveler averting her eyes and feeling her gaze being drawn toward the clocks all over the walls. He gave a smile, pointing at them as they all chimed to mark the hour, each one opening with an intricate display of colour and charm. Some held small, spinning figures, oth...

  She awoke in the familiar field of white chrysanthemums, staring down. They were pure, beautiful flowers which seemed to glow with a shining, internal light. Staring down at the flowers by her feet, she realized she was no longer wearing shoes, but instead long black stockings, which made her stand out against the white. A splash onto one of the nearby chrysanthemums startled her, the girl watching as the bud turned pink, beginning to be consumed by the intensity of lust and desire. Frightened, she stepped back, but the droplets followed her. At that moment, the Traveler realized just how cold she felt, and discovered she was once again stripped of her cloak, instead having been dressed in a tight pink dress, one which barely reached her thighs and squeezed her waist far too tightly. Her shoulders were left uncovered, explaining why she was so cold, and her arms were barely protected by thin, opaque warmers, which only reached the length of her forearm. Shivering, she pulled them...

  Walking through the streets, the Traveler felt herself grow exhausted. Another night without sleep. The night she’d stayed in the couple’s house, her sleep had been fractured, but at least she’d managed some. But sitting on the barrels all night last night? Nothing had worked. She’d stayed up all night with her thoughts, silencing them when things got too much. Drearily, she walked through the city streets, before a little girl approached her, curious about who she could be. Bending down, the Traveler barely had the energy to answer the child’s questions, simply having to focus her energy on writing the tale that she knew the child would probably tell. The tale of ‘the Magic Mirror.’ ‘In a dusty attic of a very old house, there lies a full-length, gilded mirror, decorated in golden flowers and beautiful sculptures. When the little girl living there goes to play up there, she brings her doll to the mirror, where it begins to play games with her. Though on the girl’s side of the mi...

  The next morning, the Traveler left the home early, thanking the couple for their kindness and deciding to walk to another part of the town, avoiding the alleyway that now looked so innocent with the sun shining down. Soon, she arrived in the eatery area, finding families upon families who were sharing their food with the world. Approaching a group of them, they offered to tell the numb girl the story of their ancestry and how they created some of their dishes. Declining to try some of the food, despite how delicious it was, she prepared to write the tale of ‘the Creative Sailor.’ ‘Generations ago, there was a young sailor who provided for his wife from afar, sending her letters full of his love and sentiments along with the money he earned when he arrived at each port. However, one dark night, his ship got lost in a storm and were unable to get their bearings, being lost at sea for a month and the young sailor being given the duty of chef on the vessel. Due to the scarcity of it...

  The Traveler walked through the streets, heading down alleys to try and avoid the local drunks, who were all leaving the bars and taverns scattered around the city. There was nothing but the noises from afar of music and laughter from the people out late drinking and dancing, with which the Traveler wanted no involvement. As she progressed further into the alley, she stared down at how dark it was. There were limited lamps about and it seemed everyone was either asleep or in the entertainment district, so the Traveler was truly alone. She breathed a sigh of relief, glad for once there was nobody about. And things seemed to be looking up, since she’d met so many kind, friendly people throughout her last few travels. She closed her eyes for a second, taking a moment to just breathe and reminisce- and was hit in the head from behind with something hard, and heavy. For a moment, she was completely still. Then, she stumbled about, her eyes going wide as she registered what had just ha...

  Arriving in another part of the city, the Traveler entered a few of the stores. Clearly, she was in a shopping district, due to the crowds of people surrounding each shop and examining various items. Nothing particularly caught her eye- she couldn’t afford any of the clothes and found herself garnering several stares, so she was about to leave when an old man gently approached her. Dressed in a long blue robe, he explained he was an old wizard who wanted to give away some of his old potions he no longer needed. Examining them, the Traveler spied various ointments, one for a particular plant named ‘Midnight Maw’, and potions of all varieties. He offered some to her but the girl politely declined, instead asking the old sorcerer for his best story. The man gave a slight smile and nodded, telling the story of ‘the Magical Stones.’ ‘Long ago, there was a beach which had some beautiful shining stones decorating its shore. The waves crashed against the sand, decorating the rocks with d...

  Walking through the city, the Traveler settled down by a cluster of crates, before hearing a little meow and peeking inside. There was a small kitten inside one of them, clearly having got a little lost. It was messing with a ball of yarn, the Traveler gently holding out a hand for it to sniff. As it rubbed itself against her palm, she used her other hand to pet it, the small cat letting out a content purr. Sitting down, the cat clambered onto her lap, the girl being unable to resist letting a happy smile form across her face as she cuddled it. It was a friendly little one, and eventually began to play with one of her long sleeves, getting its claw stuck inside the fabric and needing her help to detach itself. Letting out a small giggle, the Traveler then heard voices and tensed up, the kitten immediately noticing her fear and some of its hairs sticking up. But soon, it relaxed, as a boy and a girl ran around the corner, identical twins. They noticed their kitten first, the stran...

  Upon arrival in the city, the Traveler was awestruck by how alive the place seemed. The energy was almost tangible, the aromas and sights hitting her from every direction. People sat eating together, laughing, watching the various street performers. There were men on unicycles, women dressed in risqué clothing, and a man surrounded by young people, seemingly telling them all some stories. Approaching, the Traveler easily blended into the crowd, watching as the man began a new story, the tale of ‘the Fire Spirit.’ ‘In ancient times, there lived a fire spirit, a personified force of nature who was capable of travelling wherever it pleased whenever it pleased. However, due to the beliefs of the ancient humans, once a year it made an appearance in front of humanity and performed a beautiful ritualistic dance atop a flaming bonfire, rainbow hues painting each and every ember of the flames. For years upon years it enacted this ritual, before it began to be lost to time as the people in...