[[OOC - A note on Cotton's court; Blue is being used for the purposes of the TDM, and at this point is the prediction for starting court at minimum, but if anyone specifically would like to reach out to be Cotton's Maker, this is a very flexible matter! Cotton is, ultimately, a Lottery Foundling after all.]]
{ONCE UPON A DREAM - Prompts Underlined - CW: Implied Child (Teen) Death} [She's...Young again, it seems. It's impossible, but here she stands, in the same garb she remembered wearing long ago that autumn night. Her flower embroidered blouse, her brown skirt...
But she's not alone.]
Oh....Sean! Sean, you came back!
[The boy is sickly in appearance- and yet he seems healthier than ever before. Just a little older than the teenaged form of Cotton before him, he's dressed in stately silvers, washing him out against the snow. It's a comforting dream- a dream of long lost friends taking the other's hand and talking, talking about sheep, about snow, about lanterns and celebrations. A dream of the impossible, it is perhaps acknowledged.
And then it gets...dark.
Not just literally- it was already dark, the sun banished from the sky for this dream. But even the stars and moon seem to vanish, leaving a void of black against a blanket of snow. There had already been snow that night in her memory- but now, there's only snow, and Cotton stills.]
...You know this isn't real, [the young man says, and his words are a hiss on the air.] You know what happened after you said goodbye.
[And Cotton is old again, in her heavy shawls and black bonnet hat, the garb that was reduced to ashes when she arrived.] ....Sean...
Why did you smile, when you said goodbye to me, Camelia? [The words are accusing, and Cotton does not look to face him- simply closing her eyes in worn resignation.] Did you think it would help?
[Cotton says nothing- but perhaps any wandering observer will have more to bring to the table.
It's far from the only time a dream goes sour in such a way. Perhaps it's just a thing that happens when you live your life in Blue territory. Perhaps it's about age, instead.
This one was...A Shepherd, perhaps. Cotton is old and unable to handle that job any longer, and it's been that way for quite some time now. She gently pats the side of a large sheep as a teenaged boy- not at all the same as from her earlier dreams- prepares to lead the flock away to the fields beyond them. He looks small. Frail, even.
The two trade greetings. Wish each other a good day. She says good luck to him but hesitates, because before the dream can even take its sharp turn she's already recognized it for a dream. Her smile is sad-]
...I'm sorry, dear.
[And the boy pauses.] Huh? Sorry? What for?
You did your best...but it's such a dangerous job. And wolves are so very...
[A blanket of mist, and just like that, they're not at the gates with the sheep, with the young teen. Cotton stands in a field instead, dotting her eyes of tears while lighting a small lantern. There is blood on the ground- too much for it to be real, too much compared to what there was in reality, but after all this is a dream.
...and she is not alone.]
...Oh. Oh, dear me, this isn't a welcoming sight at all is it, [she sighs, not yet turning to look at who stands in her dream now.] ...I don't normally have dreams like this I don't believe. ...You'll have to excuse me... {A NIGHTMARISH CURSE}
[Despite everything, and despite the number of small but harsh losses, bloodied fields, and bitter winters that have plagued this old novice's dreams, Cotton does not in fact fall to the curse of the nightmare. It's perhaps a relief; no one likely wants to hear those kinds of screams, or witness so frail seeming a person in the throes of it.
As one not under the curse however, that means she's someone who ought be doing her part to help. And certainly, help she does, or at least tries. But Cotton has only been here for so long- she's in her first season, and barely at that. She's come from the territory of the Blue court, and by the draw of their 'lottery'- what she has to offer to help...is minimal.
But what she has at least, is the experience of the harsh northern lands surrounding her old village.]
We need warm water, clean of course- two basins would be best, [she is instructing a thrall, her tone serious even if her voice is yet soft and gravelly in her age. Once she has her things settled, she turns to the victim in question.] Now then, lets get this blood cleaned up...
[She can be found tending to wounds, mostly. She hasn't yet come far enough to simply 'kiss things better', but cleaning and bandaging is a thing she knows.
...She can also be found...singing. A gentle song of the snow, her hand on the cursed victim's own, her voice never faltering. It's a lullaby- soft, gentle, and impossibly perhaps the screams might seem to lessen.
Just a little. One could interrupt her, of course.
Or maybe wait, for the end of the song.]
{THE WINTER GAMES}
[Now this is something that has old Cotton excited. It's been a long time since she's enjoyed winter sport for herself- and it'll be a bit longer yet, what with not quite being used to having the chance. Indeed, at the site of Thrall Curling, she's instead brought for herself a rather massive bundle of yarn and a set of needles, settling in to watch.
That's not the only thing she's brought however, because it seems she does get to send a team out at one point!]
Now, everyone is bundled, yes? Very good. I have lots of warm cookies waiting for you all, and hot cocoa as well, I used a northern recipe...
[It doesn't really seem like these are things that would matter for a win, not much at least. Honestly Cotton herself doesn't even really have a grasp on enthrallment. These thralls are impressively under-thralled, with about as much guidance as can be expected from a begginer.
...But.]
You're doing fantastic dears!
[...There does appear to be an astounding amount of power in encouragement and the offer of fresh backed goods, because while they're hardly up against the best team, Cotton's own is doing pretty great!
...Go Grandma!]
{BONUS: OPEN JOURNAL ENTRY}
If it's not too much to ask, I would like to know everyone's favorite colors. I have a lot more freedom with my yarn now, and much less people to knit for otherwise!
Cotton Cookie (Elderly) | Cookie Run Kingdom | Blue (See Note) | Novice | TDM
{ONCE UPON A DREAM - Prompts Underlined - CW: Implied Child (Teen) Death}
[She's...Young again, it seems. It's impossible, but here she stands, in the same garb she remembered wearing long ago that autumn night. Her flower embroidered blouse, her brown skirt...
But she's not alone.]
Oh....Sean! Sean, you came back!
[The boy is sickly in appearance- and yet he seems healthier than ever before. Just a little older than the teenaged form of Cotton before him, he's dressed in stately silvers, washing him out against the snow. It's a comforting dream- a dream of long lost friends taking the other's hand and talking, talking about sheep, about snow, about lanterns and celebrations. A dream of the impossible, it is perhaps acknowledged.
And then it gets...dark.
Not just literally- it was already dark, the sun banished from the sky for this dream. But even the stars and moon seem to vanish, leaving a void of black against a blanket of snow. There had already been snow that night in her memory- but now, there's only snow, and Cotton stills.]
...You know this isn't real, [the young man says, and his words are a hiss on the air.] You know what happened after you said goodbye.
[And Cotton is old again, in her heavy shawls and black bonnet hat, the garb that was reduced to ashes when she arrived.] ....Sean...
Why did you smile, when you said goodbye to me, Camelia? [The words are accusing, and Cotton does not look to face him- simply closing her eyes in worn resignation.] Did you think it would help?
[Cotton says nothing- but perhaps any wandering observer will have more to bring to the table.
It's far from the only time a dream goes sour in such a way. Perhaps it's just a thing that happens when you live your life in Blue territory. Perhaps it's about age, instead.
This one was...A Shepherd, perhaps. Cotton is old and unable to handle that job any longer, and it's been that way for quite some time now. She gently pats the side of a large sheep as a teenaged boy- not at all the same as from her earlier dreams- prepares to lead the flock away to the fields beyond them. He looks small. Frail, even.
The two trade greetings. Wish each other a good day. She says good luck to him but hesitates, because before the dream can even take its sharp turn she's already recognized it for a dream. Her smile is sad-]
...I'm sorry, dear.
[And the boy pauses.] Huh? Sorry? What for?
You did your best...but it's such a dangerous job. And wolves are so very...
[A blanket of mist, and just like that, they're not at the gates with the sheep, with the young teen. Cotton stands in a field instead, dotting her eyes of tears while lighting a small lantern. There is blood on the ground- too much for it to be real, too much compared to what there was in reality, but after all this is a dream.
...and she is not alone.]
...Oh. Oh, dear me, this isn't a welcoming sight at all is it, [she sighs, not yet turning to look at who stands in her dream now.] ...I don't normally have dreams like this I don't believe. ...You'll have to excuse me...
{A NIGHTMARISH CURSE}
[Despite everything, and despite the number of small but harsh losses, bloodied fields, and bitter winters that have plagued this old novice's dreams, Cotton does not in fact fall to the curse of the nightmare. It's perhaps a relief; no one likely wants to hear those kinds of screams, or witness so frail seeming a person in the throes of it.
As one not under the curse however, that means she's someone who ought be doing her part to help. And certainly, help she does, or at least tries. But Cotton has only been here for so long- she's in her first season, and barely at that. She's come from the territory of the Blue court, and by the draw of their 'lottery'- what she has to offer to help...is minimal.
But what she has at least, is the experience of the harsh northern lands surrounding her old village.]
We need warm water, clean of course- two basins would be best, [she is instructing a thrall, her tone serious even if her voice is yet soft and gravelly in her age. Once she has her things settled, she turns to the victim in question.] Now then, lets get this blood cleaned up...
[She can be found tending to wounds, mostly. She hasn't yet come far enough to simply 'kiss things better', but cleaning and bandaging is a thing she knows.
...She can also be found...singing. A gentle song of the snow, her hand on the cursed victim's own, her voice never faltering. It's a lullaby- soft, gentle, and impossibly perhaps the screams might seem to lessen.
Just a little. One could interrupt her, of course.
Or maybe wait, for the end of the song.]
{THE WINTER GAMES}
[Now this is something that has old Cotton excited. It's been a long time since she's enjoyed winter sport for herself- and it'll be a bit longer yet, what with not quite being used to having the chance. Indeed, at the site of Thrall Curling, she's instead brought for herself a rather massive bundle of yarn and a set of needles, settling in to watch.
That's not the only thing she's brought however, because it seems she does get to send a team out at one point!]
Now, everyone is bundled, yes? Very good. I have lots of warm cookies waiting for you all, and hot cocoa as well, I used a northern recipe...
[It doesn't really seem like these are things that would matter for a win, not much at least. Honestly Cotton herself doesn't even really have a grasp on enthrallment. These thralls are impressively under-thralled, with about as much guidance as can be expected from a begginer.
...But.]
You're doing fantastic dears!
[...There does appear to be an astounding amount of power in encouragement and the offer of fresh backed goods, because while they're hardly up against the best team, Cotton's own is doing pretty great!
...Go Grandma!]
{BONUS: OPEN JOURNAL ENTRY}
If it's not too much to ask, I would like to know everyone's favorite colors. I have a lot more freedom with my yarn now, and much less people to knit for otherwise!
- Camelia Cotton
[Grandma that's not quite how you use- oh, well.]