A puff of Trudy's breath hits the Mothgarden symbol and lights it right up, a glowing blush of pink color. Trudy feels a rush of energy, fluttering wings and bright bubbles bursting beneath her skin. It's wonderful, energizing, inspiring, and it lingers as the ancient magimagicicada beside her comes back to life.
The old woman exhales against the symbol, her breath sparks of static and arcs of electricity. The Mothgarden symbol hums and the bark on this side fills with color.
Mary Grace puts her hand back on the trunk, tracing the triangular lines of the Wildgulch symbol, then looks around. "I ain't got any fire on hand," she glances around at the others. "Anyone got a light I can bum?"
"I don't smoke, and the wand Pouch gave me is... unreliable," Trudy says.
"Oh, maybe we could start a fire with my glasses by magnifying the sun!
I've always wanted to try that!"
“We’ll just all swap tree spit, today.” Is all of Chanel’s input.
But she’s nervous about the fact that her contribution didn’t spark anything more than a momentary burst of color. While the others play with fire, she resolves herself to dig into the ground and slap a handful of earth on to the tree. Her manicure’s ruined anyhow.
While the others are busy solving the emblems, Armani's still crouching around the roots. Itching to use a Talisman but not having seen an opportunity until now, he reaches into his garter purse to pull out a Ziploc bag. Within the Ziploc bag is a dead snake. Which he takes out and drops down one of the Muscheron holes.
Earth pressed to the Thorntrail symbol turns the lines a deep rust red, the color of blood. All that power spreads back toward Chanel, the feeling of certainty far stronger than before, buzzing beneath her skin, humming in her bones.
The flower-skinned magimagicicada starts to move, pressing their splayed fingers over the Thorntrail symbol, buds flourishing from the contact, spreading from the cicada to the tree.
The magimagicicada freezes once more, but the cicadas above continue to sing. Cries of hope, of confidence, even as their tree goes right on wilting.
Meanwhile, at the root of the tree, Armani's snake talisman disappears down the hole. It seems for a moment that that is the end of it, but as the cicadas cries grow louder, something in there moves.
A tiny button muscheron wheels something out toward Armani, looks up at him with its two beady dot eyes and smiles wide. "Itza youz!" says the little thing, gesturing with tiny hands toward the prize it has given before scurrying away, disappearing like dandelion fluff blown away in a breeze: a familiar pink tamagotchi, once gifted to him before for returning something to the tree. This certainly doesn't belong here. Not in 1989. When Armani touches it, it radiates some strange power it hadn't before. Maybe this can help him somehow, if he's ever in danger. [Armani will be able to keep the muscheron gift once he has left this memory.]
It takes a while to find the right angle, but once Mary Grace catches a sunbeam, the tree doesn't hesitate to start sparking and smoking. Blue light fills the Wildgulch symbol like a trail of lit gunpowder. A burst of energy shoots from her fingers to her toes, right up into her head where the feeling percolates, a shaken can of soda. Strength, inspiration, resolve. For a second, her whole body goes hot — so hot it melts Trudy's glasses. Whoops.
The magimagicicada who burns like a campfire brushes their fingers over the Wildgulch symbol and then freezes. The whole tree seems to glow from within, and the cicadas' screams pitch up to a deafening roar.
This is all mystifying and fantastical to Maisy, who has been standing in uncharacteristically silent awe. But this snaps her out of it, and she stomps her foot impatiently.
In the middle of hell, Chanel takes time to grin fondly both at Armani for (???) sticking a snake in a hole? And of course the fire that just started. Caught in a good mood, she pulls her own bottle out too. "Give it just a splash, and we can all do half a shot with a tree."
Armani grins back at his sister, holding his pink Tamagotchi up by its key chain to show it off. Never mind that the tree is glowing and the cicadas are screaming, he just solved the snake puzzle!
The vodka Maisy spits on the Deeplurk symbol freezes immediately on the surface, a fractal of ice skirting over the bark. The carving itself shines a deep, pine green and Maisy is invigorated, unstoppable, safe.
The young magimagicicada jumps to slap his steaming hand against the sigil, and when he does, the tree shakes. The cicadas overhead stop screaming, and the memory starts to play once more.
Lights, red and green and pink and blue, shoot up from the base of the tree into the canopy. They thread through branches and out into leaves, bathing everything in the central green in a dazzling light show, brilliant even in midday.
All around, panicked students and staff stop to stare at the display. One side flourishes, growing full and green, while the other drops its leaves, its seeds, and seems to die.
Pocket gives up her struggle to keep Zelda from the tree, but the fight seems to drain from the future Charms teacher, as well. Each of the remaining magimagicicada turn to face the maple, half-dead, half-alive, and perhaps not yet entirely safe. One by one, they each take flight, up into the branches, where they disappear, until only Pocket is left. She sinks to her knees.
The cicadas start to cry, not the song of summer but something strange. Low and keening, a song of mourning.
"Tink? Tinkerbell, what's happening?" Zelda asks softly, kneeling beside the party bug.
"They are gone. We were used to—to open a door," Pocket whispers, shoulders slumping. "And something is slipping through."
"Is it—is—I want to help," Zelda says. Overhead, that mourning song sounds less like singing and more like anguished wails.
Pocket won't look at her, staring intently as the ground. "More is coming. I don't know what. They won't tell me. I'm too young. Too close to..."
"Peter," Zelda finishes, lighting her hand on the party bug's arms. "Where is he? What's going on?"
Pocket turns to Zelda, red eyes wide, expression drawn. After a moment she holds out her hand, palm up and open, and in the center, a simple brass button. "He's gone. He gave them his heart. We had no choice."
Zelda doesn't understand Pocket's words, but she seems to recognize the button well enough. As her fingers hover over the little circle, hesitant, like touching it might break it, the whole scene freezes once more. The button begins to shine gold. No glowing lights in the tree. No crying cicadas. Just silence, frozen forms, and a portal back to Peckenpaugh across the Central Green, where the doors to Central Classrooms stand wide open.
[MEMORY COMPLETE! You have finished the puzzle. You may continue to thread here or exit through the portal. The linchpin is the button. Don't forget to grab it before you go!]
Mary Grace gingerly picks up the button, pinching the glowing golden copy in her fingers.
"Well, Peter," she mutters, squinting at the button. "Guess that means prom night's wrapping up." She places the linchpin in her purse and starts for the doors. "This one got a little weird anyhow."
“Oh no, but it’s been so magical.” Chanel deadpans, following. She does take her own half shot of Absolut, and catches up to Mary Grace to slide the remainder into her purse in the most bare show of public affection she’ll likely ever give. But recompense feels right. That was strange. The cicadas’ mourning isn’t sitting well with her. This loss is palpable. She draws on the resolve she’d felt only a few moments before, and steps onward. It’s time to end it.
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peckenpaugh2020-06-01 11:18 am
MEMORY: What Went Wrong
The old woman exhales against the symbol, her breath sparks of static and arcs of electricity. The Mothgarden symbol hums and the bark on this side fills with color.
The old woman freezes.
Above, the sound of cicadas singing grows louder.
MEMORY: What Went Wrong
MEMORY: What Went Wrong
Re: MEMORY: What Went Wrong
"I don't smoke, and the wand Pouch gave me is... unreliable," Trudy says. "Oh, maybe we could start a fire with my glasses by magnifying the sun! I've always wanted to try that!"
MEMORY: What Went Wrong
"Hand 'em over then," she says, hand out. "Does that mean Maisy's gotta spit on the tree?"
MEMORY: What Went Wrong
But she’s nervous about the fact that her contribution didn’t spark anything more than a momentary burst of color. While the others play with fire, she resolves herself to dig into the ground and slap a handful of earth on to the tree. Her manicure’s ruined anyhow.
MEMORY: What Went Wrong
MEMORY: What Went Wrong
The flower-skinned magimagicicada starts to move, pressing their splayed fingers over the Thorntrail symbol, buds flourishing from the contact, spreading from the cicada to the tree.
The magimagicicada freezes once more, but the cicadas above continue to sing. Cries of hope, of confidence, even as their tree goes right on wilting.
Meanwhile, at the root of the tree, Armani's snake talisman disappears down the hole. It seems for a moment that that is the end of it, but as the cicadas cries grow louder, something in there moves.
A tiny button muscheron wheels something out toward Armani, looks up at him with its two beady dot eyes and smiles wide. "Itza youz!" says the little thing, gesturing with tiny hands toward the prize it has given before scurrying away, disappearing like dandelion fluff blown away in a breeze: a familiar pink tamagotchi, once gifted to him before for returning something to the tree. This certainly doesn't belong here. Not in 1989. When Armani touches it, it radiates some strange power it hadn't before. Maybe this can help him somehow, if he's ever in danger. [Armani will be able to keep the muscheron gift once he has left this memory.]
MEMORY: What Went Wrong
MEMORY: What Went Wrong
MEMORY: What Went Wrong
The magimagicicada who burns like a campfire brushes their fingers over the Wildgulch symbol and then freezes. The whole tree seems to glow from within, and the cicadas' screams pitch up to a deafening roar.
MEMORY: What Went Wrong
MEMORY: What Went Wrong
"Me next. What do I do?"
MEMORY: What Went Wrong
MEMORY: What Went Wrong
What? They deserve it.
MEMORY: What Went Wrong
MEMORY: What Went Wrong
MEMORY: What Went Wrong - COMPLETE
The vodka Maisy spits on the Deeplurk symbol freezes immediately on the surface, a fractal of ice skirting over the bark. The carving itself shines a deep, pine green and Maisy is invigorated, unstoppable, safe.
The young magimagicicada jumps to slap his steaming hand against the sigil, and when he does, the tree shakes. The cicadas overhead stop screaming, and the memory starts to play once more.
Lights, red and green and pink and blue, shoot up from the base of the tree into the canopy. They thread through branches and out into leaves, bathing everything in the central green in a dazzling light show, brilliant even in midday.
All around, panicked students and staff stop to stare at the display. One side flourishes, growing full and green, while the other drops its leaves, its seeds, and seems to die.
Pocket gives up her struggle to keep Zelda from the tree, but the fight seems to drain from the future Charms teacher, as well. Each of the remaining magimagicicada turn to face the maple, half-dead, half-alive, and perhaps not yet entirely safe. One by one, they each take flight, up into the branches, where they disappear, until only Pocket is left. She sinks to her knees.
The cicadas start to cry, not the song of summer but something strange. Low and keening, a song of mourning.
"Tink? Tinkerbell, what's happening?" Zelda asks softly, kneeling beside the party bug.
"They are gone. We were used to—to open a door," Pocket whispers, shoulders slumping. "And something is slipping through."
"Is it—is—I want to help," Zelda says. Overhead, that mourning song sounds less like singing and more like anguished wails.
Pocket won't look at her, staring intently as the ground. "More is coming. I don't know what. They won't tell me. I'm too young. Too close to..."
"Peter," Zelda finishes, lighting her hand on the party bug's arms. "Where is he? What's going on?"
Pocket turns to Zelda, red eyes wide, expression drawn. After a moment she holds out her hand, palm up and open, and in the center, a simple brass button. "He's gone. He gave them his heart. We had no choice."
Zelda doesn't understand Pocket's words, but she seems to recognize the button well enough. As her fingers hover over the little circle, hesitant, like touching it might break it, the whole scene freezes once more. The button begins to shine gold. No glowing lights in the tree. No crying cicadas. Just silence, frozen forms, and a portal back to Peckenpaugh across the Central Green, where the doors to Central Classrooms stand wide open.
[MEMORY COMPLETE! You have finished the puzzle. You may continue to thread here or exit through the portal. The linchpin is the button. Don't forget to grab it before you go!]
MEMORY: What Went Wrong - COMPLETE
"Well, Peter," she mutters, squinting at the button. "Guess that means prom night's wrapping up." She places the linchpin in her purse and starts for the doors. "This one got a little weird anyhow."
MEMORY: What Went Wrong - COMPLETE
She does take her own half shot of Absolut, and catches up to Mary Grace to slide the remainder into her purse in the most bare show of public affection she’ll likely ever give. But recompense feels right. That was strange. The cicadas’ mourning isn’t sitting well with her. This loss is palpable. She draws on the resolve she’d felt only a few moments before, and steps onward. It’s time to end it.
MEMORY: What Went Wrong - COMPLETE
MEMORY: What Went Wrong - COMPLETE
Re: MEMORY: What Went Wrong - COMPLETE
Upon emerging from the memory out into the auditorium, the portal snapped shut behind them.
While Zelda Gunzenhauser remains trapped somewhere within the nightmare tree, the magimagicicada North, South, East and West were freed!
You can check your token totals in Pouch's shop here, and maybe see if there's anything worth grabbing while you're there!