(2018-03-19) Ring of Fire
Ring of Fire
Summary: Bea goes on a hunt for some bling of her own.
Date: IC Date (2018-03-19)
Related: None
Player Characters: Bea, Cobalt as ST

Bellamy told Bea of a "magic ring" in the Burning Wood. The Burning Wood is not an area that Bea remembers from before… But when she gets there she it dawns on her that she /knows/ the area… It used to be the glistening forest, but now?

Now it burns with a purple-blue flame, that is not doused by the rain that pours down from the sky, and seems to burn on and on eternally.

Bea has hit a breaking point. Perhaps it's her spat with Eddie, perhaps it's one too many irons in the fire, perhaps just a moment of pure, honey and petty jealousy fueled impetuousness. Whatever the reason, Bea has decided to go out on her own into the hedge. She's got her almost commically large axe slung over her shoulder, and her backpack full of gear and collection implements, but her focus isn't…for the moment, on food or even her book. It's on something shiny, a ring, so she can have a fancy accessory like everyone else in town seems to.

When she sees the woods, and what has become of it, a sense of sadness washes over her for a moment, and she shakes her head, talking to herself as she goes. "Well, maybe just the sparkles caught the sun at a wrong angle, and everything went up like a magnifying glass on a stick. She looks up to the rain, letting it wash away the sadness, and then takes a deep breath, heading on and muttering, "For sure I will have to remember to tell everyone to bring some fire extinguishers next time or something." She is on the lookout for danger, always alert despite her laisse-faire demeanor, strange tongue flickering out like a snake to test the air.

There's a strange sound that Bea can hear as she approaches the burning wood, and a strange … smell as well. The air itself tastes /wrong/.

As she passes by a copse of burning trees the world seems to shift strangely, and to her left she sees a river of fire winding its way through the now charred remains of a forest…. and to her right, she sees a vast, gleaming forest of trees lush with green life and deeming with vegetation.

Bea hmms, biting her lip and pulling a hedge thorn from her pocket, plucked somewhere along the way, and letting a drop of blood fall. She looks to her left, then to her right. After a long moment, with another flick of her tongue. Glamour shimmers off her in that golden-pollen glow as she considers the area, eyes going unfocused as she considers her surroundings. After a moment, she shakes her head and shifts her axe, seeming mildly annoyed, "Well, this is just like some weird fun-house forest, if you ask me." She considers, wobbling in one direction, then the other, before taking a few tentative steps toward the burning river. "I wonder if there are any fire-fishes…" such is the musing of Bea, who's stomach rumbles slightly at the possibility.

Fire fish? Sure! There's a brilliant scarlet fish, with fins that fade to gold and shimmer like the actual metal. A school of them swim through the molten river, seeming to dance and play. The air on this side tastes of heat and ash. And the heat is immense… skin blistering almost.

Bea spots the fish, and heads toward it, but quickly backs away from the flaming river, fanning herself and, once she's into relatively cooler air, looks up once more to the sky to try and cool herself off. "Oh man…I don't know about this, even though that fish /did/ look like it would be tasty, and nice to add to my book. What do you think? Has anything interesting been going on around here lately?" This spoken to no one but the air around her, though she waits eexpectantly for a response, head cocked to one side as if listening for a particular sound.

"The fire split the tree of memories… now we remember… we remember…" says the air to Bea.

Bea considers that for a long moment, looking around to see if she can spot any tree that might obviously carry the moniker, bouncing a little bit with excitement, "Oh! A memory tree?! Well, /that/ sounds like a good place to hide a memory crown." She seems to have forgotten, for the immediate moment, that it is a ring, and not a crown, that she's come out here to hunt, but she begins to track the river with her gaze, trying to move parallel to it without getting close enough to be charred. "I wonder…maybe where this river starts, then that is where the tree is." She peers to her right, and considers, "Maybe those trees know the memory tree. But still, I will walk a little ways, at least, and see if I can't find the start of where this river is." And with a firm little nod, she does just that, meandering a bit as she goes, looking for anything that stands out as possibly containing something shiny.

Along, along, along Bea walks. The further along the river's path she walks, the closer it gets to the divide between the two forests. This weird mirror of each other. One side deeming with life, the otherside charred remains of it.

Eventually she notices that at the focal point there is a tree that has been split somewhat in two…

One side of it is a charred husk, that the river flows out of it… And on the otherside it is heavy with glistening leaves, that drip just a little bit in the rain…

And there where the river runs through it, where the heaves just barely, barely touch … something gleaming, and glowing..


Like a ring.

Bea gives a squeal of delight as she spots the split tree, doing her weird little waggle-dance as she hop-skips toward it, swinging her axe with delight. "Oh! Oh!" And then, she frowns a little, patting the living side of the tree, "Poor tree. This must be some hard thing for you, to have so many flames just going right through, and I will try to help after I just get that thing there…" She crouches down, digging in her bag and coming up with a rather flimsy retracting poker thing, the sort of tool one might use to roast a hot dog over a campfire. She reaches out to try to snag the ring with the pole.

The riverbank is surprisingly slippery and difficult to navigate. Bea finds her footing rather precariously and she slips just a little bit on the edge of it.

Bea throws herself backwards as she starts to slip, slapping at her pants where they have caught fire, wincing a bit as she realizes that she is a little singed as well. Her wings buzz nervously, and she takes a few moments to do some deep breathing and calm down after the close call. She lays back, staring up into the leaves of the living side of the tree, her feet toasty warm…probably a little too toasty, from the heat of the river of fire. "I am gonna have to have some new plan." She digs once again into her pack, pulling out what looks like a bit of bailing wire, which she shapes into a long hook. Normally she'd be making a trap, but for the moment, she's hoping it might work as a makeshift ring-fishing hook. She stands, moving close to the tree, and looking up into the branches. Patting the tree again, she begins to climb, aiming for a branch high enough that she can dangle her makeshift hook over it and catch the ring. "Thanks for being here, tree, and letting me climb all over you. And I just know it is hard for you to be like you are right now, but if you can give me any help in figuring out how to get that shiny thing out of the middle of you there, then that would be real nice." She doesn't seem to have high hopes for the advice of the tree on the subject, but it's almost a habit for her, to speak to the plants she's in contact with.

The tree is speaks with no one but two voices. One screaming out in pain, "Take it! Take it! Take it!"

The other lush, and blooming. A velvety voice of the quiet forest, "The forest blossoms still because of the ring … but I am torn in half. One side real, one side a memory…"

But she can /touch/ the green side! How can it be a memory…?

Bea seems surprised by the answer, her arms clenching the branches she's climbing tightly as she forces herself not to release and cover her ears. "Oh gosh," she whispers, "I'm so sorry. But I will try to help." She looks out over the green, lush part of the landscape, taking it all in for a long moment with a deep breath, "It will be okay," she murmurs to the tree, "Even if this is a memory, now it is /my/ memory, and I will make it real again." This, a quiet promise to herself as much as the tree. And up she climbs, trying to find a good, sturdy spot from which she can go jewelry-fishing.

Up into the tree Bea goes, careful to skirt around the singed part of it. As she goes the tree laments to her, "I was a memory for so long, so long… No one comes no more. I am a memory… Stuck eternally…"

"Take it! Take it! Take it! Let me die!" Screams the burnt side.

Bea struggles to maintain her focus as she climbs, but as she gets herself settled into a branch, she pats the living side of the tree again, "We all forgot, so even a memory tree is hard to keep track of." The screaming of the burned side of the tree keeps her from contemplating this for to long, and she whispers, "I'll get that ring, and just you will be fine, I am sure…" She leans against the branch, , wrapping her legs around to make sure she's fairly secure, and, after pulling a ribbon from her hair and wrapping it around the end to try and avoid burning her fingers, she begins to lower the bailing wire down into the flaming water, attempting to hook the ring, biting her tongue with the concentration of her effort.

It's surprisingly easy now that she's up on the tree. It whispers to her little suggestions, adjustments, here and there, so that she can get it. She manages to hook the plain, gold ring and tug it upward… and that's where things get … sticky…

Bea crows with delight as she catches the ring, pulling it up and tucking it safely into a pocket. But before she has a chance to revel in her success, she realizes something is…very wrong, and leaps from the branch of the tree toward the ground safety of the ground, wings a-buzz to make it a gentle-ish float to the ground, rather than potentially crunchy leap.

The green side of the forest begins to burn. Not naturally, but like a polariod picture put to heat. Warping away in odd places until all of it is gone. Until Bea is surrounded by a burning wood on all side. The smoke heavy and sharp… Choking.

Bea lets out a cry of sadness and pain, caught for a moment like a deer in the headlights as she watches the beautiful greenery burn. But then she's off like a shot, grabbing her gear and her axe, and running like the dickens to get out of there before she ends up charred like the memory tree.

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