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Do we need to fill out both prompts, or just choose one?

Name: Menelie
Scent trying for: Butterfly Flower
Scent name for now: Paloma

Prompt:
Getting what you want in life takes practice, patience and planning. In learning these things your Scent has seemingly undermined your authority using them. How did they undermine your authority and what did they do it for?

Paloma had always been a sweet, quiet, truthful child. That said, on the occasions where she’d decided to be untruthful, she more often than not had gotten away with it, just because no one ever expected it. For instance, there was the time that Paloma realized that the babysitter didn’t live with them, and so wouldn’t know all the rules of the house, so she convinced him that Menelie really did let her have a cookie after dinner and one before bed.
But this was…amazing, even for her. The fact that she pulled this one off absolutely floored Menelie when she found out. Mene was going away for the weekend, and had left teenaged Paloma in charge of the house and the dog. She’d been planning this trip for weeks, taking the weekend off of work and housekeeping duties and going back home to visit her parents and younger brother. Now, Mene hadn’t expected Paloma to do anything rash, especially because she can’t concentrate for long enough to plot something out like that. So Mene didn’t lay down any rules or anything for Paloma for the weekend, besides reminding her that Duchess, their droopy basset hound, needed to be fed, watered, and walked daily. And so when Mene got in the car and left, she had no idea what she’d find when she got back.
Paloma, despite being so quiet and shy, was quite popular at school. It seemed like people were just naturally drawn to her, and so she had many friends. And so when Mene first told Paloma about her proposed trip almost a month ago, the wheels in her pretty head began turning. She decided to plan a huge house party with all her friends and any of their friends. She spread the word around school, gave directions to their old house in the middle of town, and bought food and drink.
The night of the party came and, as many parties do, it got out of hand. Very out of hand. A friend of Paloma’s brought a friend who brought alcohol, and from there Paloma knew she was in trouble. She was only seventeen, and she knew the kid from school, and knew that he certainly wasn’t of legal age to buy alcohol. She tried to get the boy to leave, but it seemed that the booze was a hit with the other partygoers. Things started to get more rowdy, valuables were nearly broken (thankfully the only thing that actually broke was a glass, easily replaceable), and the party took a turn for the trashy variety. Miserable, Paloma finally called the police on her own party when she found a drunken, amorous couple doing…something…in the bathroom.
She got in trouble, of course, and poor Mene had to come home early from her vacation. She was furious, but ultimately had to be proud of her daughter for having the clarity of thought to know when her party was getting out of hand. In the end, Paloma had to pay for the broken glass out of her allowance, was grounded from the Internet for two weeks, and was instructed to never have an unsupervised party again. Most importantly, though, Paloma learned from the experience, and reinforced her general dislike of rowdiness and unseemly behavior.

Name Kotatsu-chan
Scent Clean Linen
Scent Name Benedict

Caretaker Linnea Mycroft, a caretaker at a rural cemetery. She's a sensible woman and likes the quiet that her working environment affords. She doesn't find cemeteries or death frightening or depressing at all, on the contrary. The cemetery is easy to understand and quiet, and the trees and green life erupting from the ground amongst the solemn stones gives her a place to think. She lives in a small caretaker's cottage not too far away from the cemetery and goes to the city every so often to buy new clothes or somesuch thing.

Prompt Two
Kids tend to have wild and sometimes utterly ridiculous imaginations. One day your child comes to you with a story so unbelievable you might actually think it's true. What is it?

The house was quiet, but it was alive.

Filled with a symphony, a night orchestra, the cricket song found its way through the cracks, the moaning wind whipped past the windows, and the trees whispered secrets into the ears of the solemn stones of the graveyard not too far away. The house creaked as it settled, and Linnea listened to it all, lying on her back and staring at the canopy of her four poster bed, hands outstretched to the ceiling. Nights like this were for listening to first, sleeping second. The quiet woman had long ago learned to appreciate the noises that people drowned out too often, the little cacophony of sounds most people took for granted. It was how the world talked to a person, and people like Linnea who spent all their time amongst the dead knew how to listen in the right way.

This night, she heard a new sound, a new creak in the music of the night. The woman slipped from the bed reluctantly, putting on her slippers and grabbing a poker from under the bed. Just in case. Too many teens these days wanted to defile the graveyard to be brave, and some of them might be bold enough to attack the person who tended to the grounds as well. Linnea stepped down the stairwell, onto the first floor, and raised the poker, heart beating like a drum. There was a small figure at the door. "Come into the light," she demanded of it softly, "Or get a poker to your head."

The figure jumped and whirled around, and in the half-light coming from the windows, she saw Benedict's form in front of her, a rush of clean linen scent following his sudden movement. His hands were protecting his face and she lowered the poker. Why wasn't he in bed? The scent was well behaved and sensible, he never stayed up late. "Benedict." she said, and the boy lowered his arms.

Her stomach did a flip flop as his expression became visible, it was terrified. Her son, if one could even call him that, was usually serene, unshakable. Whatever had reduced him to this frightened child trying to lock the door at night had to be bad. "What's wrong?" She took hold of his arm and steered him to the couch, putting a long on the fireplace and setting it aglow. The boy trembled and looked at her desperately. "Ghosts." he stated simply. "I can hear them creeping in my room." His voice wavered and he looked at his hands. "I saw them looking at me through the crack in my closet. They want to kill me and take my body. I wanted to lock the door so I felt safer." He swiped at his eyes. "I'm tired, I can't take it!" he moaned. "I want sleep, but they won't leave me alone."

Linnea frowned. Benedict knew better than to be afraid of ghosts, right? He had never been afraid of the gravestones in the cemetery, he played games with them. He hadn't ever been afraid of death, even watched burials sometimes and asked Linnea if he could help mow the cemetery lawn on sunny days. What had caused this? For a half second she had a wild fancy that maybe he had actually seen ghosts. It was just so wildly out of character, so different, so strange for him to say. But ghosts... Even assuming they were real, why would they want to possess a boy that smelled like clean linen and came from a scented oil? Why would they want to possess anyone at all? It didn't make sense, but why else would he say it?

"Like on the television." he sobbed. "What?" Linnea asked, blinking. They only got four channels, none of which had ghost programs. Sniffling, the scent said "Like on the television at Lennox's house. His mom made us watch it, she told me it was really good and I'd like it because I lived near a cemetery and... And..." He hiccuped. "They're going to get me. I saw it all on television, they had real evidence on camera and everything!"

Ah. Linnea was beginning to see the light. Gently, she took Benedict's hand and led him to the door. "Come on." she told him. He looked at her suspiciously. "Where are we going?" the scent asked. She gave him a measured look. "On a walk." Opening the door, she approached the darkened cemetery, and quicker than a cobra tightened her grip on Benedict's arm as he realized where they were headed. "NO!" he screamed, struggling to get away and in doing so making the air around them smell strongly of linen. "No, no no! It's haunted!" He flailed in her grip, but she manhandled the boy over to the graveyard, thrusting him in and sitting him on the low stone wall around it. "Listen!" she ordered, but she didn't have to. The scent's struggling was getting weaker and eventually he was just weeping softly. "They're gonna get me." he told her tearily. Linnea shook her head. "Listen." she said. "Would the crickets chirp in an evil place? Would the trees whisper, would the frogs croak? There's a symphony of life here if you'll listen. Why do you need to be afraid of things that have died? Haven't you always played on these gravestones? Haven't they been your friends? Why would they try to possess you?"

Benedict couldn't answer. "They had evidence." he said doubtfully, voice trailing off. Linnea tapped next to his eyes. "You do too." she pointed out. "There's nothing to be afraid of here."

The symphony of the night played on, and mother and child went to get some tea. The smell of fresh linen lingered over the graveyard, the smell of new beginnings, of spring, of life in a place so commonly associated with death. Ghosts were only real if you let them be, but life was all around even when you didn't see it.

Username:MayaMage2
Scent: Butterly flower
Scent Name: Kallima Rayen (Kallima means butterfly in American and Rayen means Flower in a Native American Language) Just call her Kallima though.
Prompt:Kids tend to have wild and sometimes utterly ridiculous imaginations. One day your child comes to you with a story so unbelievable you might actually think it's true. What is it?


Response:

What a beautiful day!

The birds sang and the flowers swayed at the gentle command of the cool breeze. Swarms of butterflies glided from flower to flower creating a wonderful rush of colors. This garden was Kalimma’s favorite place in the world. Sometimes she would go from flower to flower, carefully analyzing their colors and counting their petals. Other times she would chase the butterflies around trying to catch one. But most times, Kallima spent her day sitting on a bench in the outskirts of the garden lost deep in her own thoughts, daydreaming.

Maya, however, Kalimma’s ever busy guardian, was not taking time to appreciate that beautiful day. Maya always took Kalimma to the garden as a way to keep the little girl busy so she could make her very important phone calls to her list of employers. You see, Maya was an art buyer. She bought art for prominent art collectors and therefore was always busy. Don’t get Maya wrong though. She loves Kalimma with all her heart! The little girl is a handful and someone has got to bring in the money. To Maya, Kalimma was an escape from her ever busy life. A little piece of paradise that came down to bless her.

So there Maya sat, on a rickety old bench, red pen and agenda in hand while the phone sat lodged between her shoulder and ear. “No sir, he didn’t have the one you wanted, it was sold this morning fifteen minutes before I called him… No sir…ok sir, I will get right on it!” She turned off the phone with a sigh and crossed another name off the list. Just then she heard the approaching cries of Kalimma as the little girl ran towards her, tears trickling down her face like a waterfall, arms outstretched towards Maya wanting to be picked up. Maya put her agenda to the side, got up and jogged towards the little girl picking her up with a swoop. The scent of butterfly flower was intense now that Kalimma was so close, “What’s wrong honey, did you get hurt?” Kallima was sobbing now, and only managed a slow shake of her head as she pointed towards a nearby tree.

As Kalimma pointed, Maya noticed that the bracelet she gave Kalimma for her birthday was gone. Maya frowned and returned to the bench, sitting down with Kalimma on her lap, she turned the girl toward her grabbing a hold of the arm where the bracelet should have been and asked. “Kalimma, where’s your bracelet honey?” Kallima had stopped crying by then and just kept looking at things around her, as if she was looking very farr away from that place, absent from the current situation. Maya was used to that though, so she waited. Kalimma had always been like that. Maya wasn’t sure if she was deep in thought trying to come up with a reply or if she was just daydreaming. At the end though, Kalimma always answered the questions directed toward her as if no time had passed at all. Despite being just a little girl, Kalimma was wonderfully articulate and could lure and lull even the harshest and most hyper of people with her sweet and dreamy voice and overly creative stories.

Finally, the little girl looked up at her guardian, her tears subdued, she looked calm again and in her wistful voice she said, “Mama, I was talking to Rose just now, she is the most beautiful of flowers, she was telling me about this evil squirrel that had been coming out at night and destroying the other flowers while they were sleeping! He’s just evil mama!” Hah! So she was making stuff up again! Maya decided to go along with it this time. “Ok honey, but what does Rose have to do with your bracelet?” Kalimma looked away again, waiting. For what? Maya didn’t know. After a little, the girl answered. “The big squirrel came Mama! And he killed Ms. Rose! And he took my bracelet up that tree and blew a raspberry at me!” Tears welled up in Kalimma’s eyes. Maya hushed her and put her down as she stood up. She didn’t really believe in Kalimma’s story. That girl made too much up! “Ok Kalimma, Let’s go look for your bracelet.” The guardian chose to ignore the tree because she knew there was no way the bracelet could have gotten up there.

Kalimma and Maya looked for a long while with no sign of the bracelet. Maya looked under rocks, around the flower patches, inside the fountain and nothing. Where could this bracelet be!? Maya noticed that Kalimma was really enjoying herself while searching. She skipped around, from flower to flower asking if they had seen her bracelet. All of a sudden Kalimma stopped dead on her tracks and waved her guardian over, “Mama! Look at Ms. Rose, she’s destroyed! Poor Rose!” Maya trotted up and saw that indeed a red rose was in shreds and the petals were everywhere. Could it be that there was a squirrel here somewhere? Maya knew Kalimma wouldn’t hurt a flower. She frowned and went over to the tree where the girl said the bracelet was hanging. In one of the lowest branches there it was! What the hell? Where was this squirrel then? Maya slowly circled the tree looking for the squirrel. Hidden in the back of the tree was a tall wooden stool.

Now she knew what was going on there. She called Kalimma over and asked, “Kalimma did you put the bracelet up on the tree?” Kalimma looked down at her feet, guilt splashed across her face and slowly nodded. Maya sighed and took the girl by the hand, leading the girl back to her bench, “Now honey, why would you do that, you know I have a lot of work to do.” Kalimma looked out into the garden for a while, then she looked back at her guardian “Well I was lonely, I wanted to play with you Mama…” A surge of guilt filled Maya as she stroked Kalimma‘s hair, “Aww honey, you know you can just tell me when you want to play with me, I’ll be more than happy to.” Maya smiled down at Kalimma and received a dazzling, dreamy smile back. “Now what do you say we go play with the butterflies again?”

Sorry I wrote soo much. I just couldn't stop writing! xd

||Username||
EverlastingRitz
||Scent||
Cucumber Melon
||Scent Name||
Jesse Forsythe
||Guardian||
Everlinde Forsythe [Nickname Ever]
||Prompt||
"Getting what you want in life takes practice, patience and planning. In learning these things your Scent has seemingly undermined your authority using them. How did they undermine your authority and what did they do it for?"
||Response||

“Mom, I’m leaving now” Jesse called from the hall.
“No you aren’t” Ever popped around the corner anger lining her words. “Room, dishes, cat box”
Jesse pushed his green streaked hair back. “Don’t be so uptight mom, it’ll get done” a laugh escaped his lips as he pulled his coat on.
Ever waited for a moment then grabbed the back of his coat pulling him down the hallway “I’m not doing your chores again.” Her voice was level though the anger was seeping through more. “You’re a lazy good for nothing teenager, now clean” she pushed him toward the full sink.
“Mom they aren’t going anywhere, my friends on the other hand, are.” He complained reluctantly taking off his coat and rolling his sleeves.
“And it looks like they’ll be going places without tonight” Ever walked out leaving him alone.
“I’m tired of doing your chores” Jesse mimicked sloshing the water everywhere. ”You can just leave them there mom, I’ll do them later” he complained “No you won’t, you sleep till minutes before school and come home just in time for dinner and then disappear again.” He sighed softly throwing the last few dishes in the washer before stomping out towards the garage.
“So, do I really sound like that?” Ever asked as Jesse came around the corner.
Jesse jumped a bit standing rigid “Of course not mom” he stooped and kissed her cheek then took another step towards to garage.
“Think you can just play me off like that?” Ever asked frowning a bit “You just try and be fresh, I was a teenager too believe it or not, and I know this ploy.” She pulled the door to the garage open looking at the clock “Better hurry.”
Jesse sighed walking in pulling the kitty litter of the shelf. His eyes caught the street light through the half open garage door. “I love you mom” he whispered softly. He peeked inside to make sure Ever was nowhere near. “Perfect” he whispered with a chuckle sliding across the garage and out the door making out into the fresh air and moonlight.
The screen door creaked open and Ever’s face appeared in the crack “Finish the cat…” Ever stared at the empty garage and then at the garage door. “He’s grounded.” She clicked the door trigger and the left the garage dark.

I will say I was greatly pleased with how many took to the Imaginative Story-Telling prompt. I didn't expect many to go with that one as it requires more thinking and less experience than getting away with something without your parents knowing XD;

That being said you all did terrific jobs. It takes skill to mold something grand when you're given very vague guidelines on what is expected and let loose with everything else. I can tell you it's one of the hardest things in the world, especially when we all have grown up having things laid out for us in procedures with a bulleted format.

And now for the winners...



This character was both fascinating with the way she approached her child's dilema, and interesting in her career choice. You see a lot of characters either well off to begin with, completely humble to start, or off in a plain of existence all their own. Never do you expect, however, to sit there starring at an entry about someone who works in a Cemetary.

For Clean Linen, I chose Kotatsu-chan and her character Linnea! Congrats Kotatsu, and we'll be happy to see Benedict in a graveyard near us soon.


Thought a short entry, this applicant displayed I motherly tone I am all too familiar with. So much that I heard my mother calling me down to do the catbox while writing this up (which she did, scary lady that she is). And a similarly heard response from kids who just know how to get out of anything. The direct approach.

For Cucumber Melon, I chose EverlastingRitz and her character Everlinde. I'm sure Jesse will be marking a calender with grounding sentences of life soon enough.


Being absent-minded needs the right kind of touch. Luckily you have a classic text-book definition running this event. Only in her little world do trees fight heroic battles against clouds, while crying maidens run to their single dorky father's (I will marry him. I love dorks <3) who draw the next door neighbors flower-pods.

For Butterfly Flower, I chose Pandalily and her character Anthony. In the end I think it'd be Elianna who would tell the bed time stories.



Thank you everyone who participated. Please, please, PLEASE stick around for the rest of the event. Hell, stick around forever. Just because you may not have won a Scent in the FS doesn't mean there won't be anymore opportunities to arise and doesn't mean you have to fade back into the lurker-mode. We encourage non-owners to RP and establish themselves in our world, because without all of you there wouldn't be one.