ph_logs | Elsie Open Post

Entry tags:

npc: elsie

Elsie Open Post | NPC OTA

Who: Elsie & YOU
What: An open post for any and all to come get more CR with Elsie
When: Early May
Where: Stated in the prompts, but can also be anywhere that makes sense
Warnings: None yet - Will warn where necessary

Pranked Good!
The fae have been having a prank war around here and, while Elsie isn't officially affiliated with any of the other players, she can't help but feel drawn to the fun. Her human side, at least, guides her to pranks that fall closer to harmless than harmful--but she has been known to drag a person into her shadow realm without much warning.

The sensation of becoming one with shadow is like missing a step on the stairs and suddenly finding themselves in a pitch black hole looking out at the world. It doesn't hurt, but it might be a disorienting few seconds until it becomes apparent that Elsie is in the dark with too, holding their hand. Somehow they can tell she's not going to harm them. It might be the magical warmth radiating off of her, the kind that feels like a hug from a friend in hard times.

"Got you!" she says with a giggle. "Pranked good!"

Lost & Found
Another aspect of the prank war is the theft of objects. Elsie knows that stealing is wrong but borrowing is okay, so she's "borrowing" random items from around the town and leaving little treasure maps for people to use to try and locate them. Who doesn't love a good scavenger hunt?

She is easily located at her tree for anyone who actually doesn't love them and would like to take it up with her personally. She might be persuaded to help search. (Even if she wasn't the one who took the thing, she can still be convinced to help find what was taken.)

Dance Until You Drop
If one happens to be unfortunate enough to get caught in a fairy dance circle, Elsie might be their best and only hope of getting out of it unscathed. These woods are hers, and she considers herself its guardian. The people of Pumpkin Hollow, especially the newest arrivals, fall under that purview when they venture into the embrace of her trees.

As their limbs grow weaker from exhaustion, their mouth parched, and it's beginning to seem like their chances of survival have slipped away, Elsie appears, joining the dance to edge her way closer. When she touches them, they feel invigorated once more. She leans close to whisper, "Elsie help?"

If they want to dance themselves into oblivion she won't stop them, but she's here to offer a way out for those who'd like to avoid a painful death and 24 hours as a ghost.

Mending Is Hard
Elsie sits on a stump beneath her tree cradling a beautiful butterfly gown made of gossamer tulle and silky satin to her chest. It's one of her most prized possessions--and now the skirt has a hole in it.

Usually, she wouldn't be so concerned over a tear in her clothing; she's rough on all her rompers after all. But this one is special. This one was a gift from her father. She should have been careful. She should have known better. Now tears blot out her vision as she touches the frayed edges. She doesn't know how to fix it. Likely it will never go back to being perfect, no matter what she tries. It's all her fault for not being a Real Lady. One of those would know what to do.

Bee Jamboree
Spring brings flowers, and flowers bring pollinators; that's what makes this Elsie's favorite time of year. Bees are her special favorite. They're more social than the ants.

So, don't be alarmed if you hear buzzing in the trees. Come closer to see Elsie performing a very strange wiggling dance for them. The bees are all gathered around, watching and joining in. They don't seem very aggressive right now. Elsie certainly isn't wearing any kind of protection and she's just fine. Who is brave enough to join the dance?

Wildcard
If none of those above prompts are doing it for you, feel free to invent another location to run into Elsie, or ask me for a custom starter. Those a genuinely easier for me sometimes than writing blanket opens so please don't hesitate. <3

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The rain has just cleared, allowing for the sun to break through the clouds at last. Elsie lounges beneath her tree admiring her most recent acquisitions. She found these lovely glass creations dumped off the side of a cliff and rescued the pieces left intact to hang from the boughs of her tree. They catch the light and cast rainbows across her cheeks as they turn in the breeze. She lifts a lazy hand to the closest one and spins it slowly to watch it sparkle. How could anyone throw away something so beautiful?

It isn't long before a bright pink bee starts weaving in and out among the others, loop-de-looping closer and closer to Elsie.

"Buzzzzz," it intones in a very un-bee-like voice. (It kinda sounds like it's trying not to giggle.) "Buzz buzz buzz."

Standing on the edge of the clearing, Pyotr Stamatin sighs with a quiet awe that nears on childlike in its simplicity. He fears to step past that invisible boundary; surely his presence would be taken as nothing more or less than unwanted intrusion?

He used to know a girl with white hair, who'd sing to his paintings at night. To soothe their spirits, she said. He'd opened every window in the flat, scraping away layers of calcified paint when necessary, so she'd get fresh air and daylight. Sometimes, when the wind blew just the right way, she said she could hear the bone chimes in the graveyard, and then she'd sit in the window and hum ever so softly...

"Little miss?" he calls out softly, trying not to startle her. "May I speak with you?"

"Her head lolls to the side so she can look at him without having to sit up. She felt him arrive long before he spoke, but she's already concluded that he's no threat to her.

"Little miss is Elsie," she answers. Her hand stops spinning the glass to wave him over instead. "Come talk to Elsie. Come look?"

Sometimes, Gwen likes to come out into the forest to swing between the trees like they're the skyscrapers back home. There's more room out here than in town, less owners of houses to annoy by webbing their windows or brickwork.

Today, she stops because she hears what sounds like crying. Swinging to the branch of a nearby tree, she sees Elsie—that was her name, right? She was one of the winners of that flower court thing, yeah—under her tree, dress in had, and calls over.

"Uh— hey. Elsie, right? You okay?"

Elsie giggles openly for both of them. She'd know that shade of pink anywhere by now. She puts her finger out like a perch for the slowly circling "bee" to land on.

"You want flowers too?"

She startles. It's rare for anyone to approach her unnoticed. But it's just as clear from how red-rimmed her wide eyes are that she is far from okay.

"Elsie is not hurt."

"Yeah, well, it's like to a friend of mine a few weeks ago, technically 'not okay' and 'hurt' aren't mutually exclusive."

She hops down from the tree with a needlessly acrobatic flip ingrained by habit, landing almost silently on her feet. "Is it something about the dress? Oh, uh, I'm Gwen."

Elsie can't help a begrudging half-grin at that. That's clever. She likes that.

Still, it isn't enough to lift her spirits while the dress still lays damaged across her lap. She lifts the train for Gwen to see the ragged hole in it. "Special dress is... ripped. What if Father is upset Elsie ripped her present?"

That tugs at something in Gwen's chest a little. Remembers the first time her dad bought her a dress, how big a moment that felt even if it wasn't really her style and wasn't really anything special. "He got you this for the big party, huh?"

Gwen doesn't touch the fabric, not immediately anyway, but she gives the damage a solid visual once over.

"I don't think he'd be upset with you. Dads don't get upset about that stuff." Well, not good dads. "Do you mind if I have an even closer look?"

She nods her head to that first question as more tears slip down her cheeks. Her posture lifts a little at the suggestion that dads don't get upset about these things.

"Gwen have father?" she asks. That's how she would know, right? What they will or won't get mad at? Elsie has still yet to meet her's face-to-face.

"Can look." She lifts the dress up for Gwen to hold. In the train is a ripped hole that looks an awful lot like a tree limb snagged it.

"Yeah, I do. Did. Do. It's complicated. And he's not here but there's a couple guys who are who've kinda... similar."

Carefully, she examines the damage. Yeah, she recognises that sort of tear, done similar to her own clothes often enough. "I miiight have something to patch this in my kit in town. I'm not actually, like, a proper seamstress or anything but I've patched up a lot of clothes."

While Sorceress isn't exactly a huge animal or critter fan, she can't knock that fuzzy, hard-working, buzzy girls are rather adorable. While out gathering ingredients in the forest, she comes across the loud buzzing of bees and decides to carefully investigate.

Upon spotting the smaller woman dancing along with the insects (which is rather surprising to see), the witch watches curiously for a few moments before tapping her staff on the ground with the beat of the buzzing in attempts to possibly get any of their attention. It would be rude to interrupt them with anything else, after all.

"Thank you...Elsie."

He comes closer, reaching one long, skinny arm to gently still one of the dangling pieces of some small glass creature. "Where did you find these?" he asks. Of course he recognizes them; how could he not? These were some of the first pieces he made, when his breast was still full of princely sorrow. Little creatures of silvery greys and blues; he didn't figure out how to make the substance turn different colors until later.

The light refracted through the places where they've chipped and broken, scattering little rainbows across the girl and the leaves.

[The dismal state of his prospective lodgings necessitated plenty of tlc, and much of what was needed to bring it to a livable state was able to be found out in nature. Out on a trip that was half exploration and half surveyance he would encounter the stump and, in doing so, the distressed youth sitting upon it. Sylus was experienced enough an adventurer not to poke his nose into unusual places when flying solo in unfamiliar territory, but he was also a lifelong older brother.

Having all but raised his younger sister in their parent's absence, the number of times he had seen the exact same expression worn by the troubled girl in front of him on his sister's face was beyond counting. Once a big brother, always a big brother, however, so he set his bag down and turned his attention to the girl.]

"Hello there."

[He held his hands outstretched in a gesture of nonagression and stepped a little closer to the stump.]

"Are you alright?"

Edited (Formatting edits for better font visability) 2025-05-14 17:10 (UTC)

"Yeah!"

As soon as she drops the act -- not that it was much of an act to start with -- Nimona loses the fight against laughter, too. She lands daintily on Elsie's finger and gives a little wiggle.

"Whatcha got?"

Artemy doesn't really WANT to leave his clinic to go hunt down his scalpel set.

He truly does not.

He even considers just buying a new set instead of following a strange map to who knows where.

But then he considers that someone else might find his scalpel set. And that responsibility would be his own if anything bad were to happen. That thought alone is enough to get him to leave his clinic and set out on an adventure that he did not want to have to deal with today.

Eventually the map leads into the woods, near Elise's tree- he's looking at the map again, and wondering if he's taken a wrong turn, or maybe, this map was a farce to begin with. He sighs irritatedly, crumpling up the map and tossing it onto the forest ground-

... Before leaning over and picking it back up, uncrumpling it. Even if it might be a ruse, it'd still be a good idea to keep the map. It is his only clue, after all.

"In the water, under the cliff..." she answers forlornly as she touches another of the fragments lightly, causing a rainbow fragment of light to paint her forehead like a third eye. "Why? So pretty... so sad...why throw away?"

"Because they're so sad," Pyotr quietly explains. "I didn't think anyone else would want to see them..." He didn't want to see them, is what he means. At least, not then.

"I made these, you know," he informs Elsie, turning to study her again. She really doesn't look all that much like Grace, he realizes, now that he's looking at her more closely. But that's only to be accepted; Grace was a unique creature, a snowflake in the purest and most temporal sense of the word. Yet isn't there something touchingly unique about Elsie as well? Pyotr finds himself speaking more freely than he'd meant to, confiding in her his experiences at Merrymeet and the gift from Efrain in even greater detail than he'd shared with Fever or Erik. "I didn't realize he had any plans for them," he insists. "At the time I really thought they could be discarded like so much trash."

"Elsie knows," she says with a sorry smile. She didn't until he got closer, but now she can feel the connection he has to them, the scent that permeates them is his.

Her expression remains sad but in a placid and accepting kind of way. Efrain... that demon is so good at singing to lost souls. Elsie knows how deep that grief can go. She can't find it in herself to be angry at Pyotr for succumbing. His spirit seems so dim already.

Her gaze is penetrating when she looks up into his face, "Sad things are discarded?"

"Elsie's father says he will come soon. Elsie is... worried." She's imagined what he must be like so many times but what will it really be like? What if he doesn't like what he sees?

She can't help but hover over Gwen's shoulder while she checks out the damage, fluttering like a nervous butterfly, biting her lip and trying not to wring her hands. But it seems all hope is note lost.

"Elsie take us to town? You fix?"

Elsie turns her happy gaze on Sorceress smiling warmly. She doesn't mind having an audience, even if the bees themselves seem less sure. They slow their dance and instead buzz lightly around the newcomer to inspect and appraise her. As long as Elsie doesn't seem alarmed, they don't either.

"Hello," Elsie says after a moment, "I'm Elsie. Bees welcome you."

On this rare occasion, he manages to spook Elsie with his approach. She's usually impossible to sneak up on but in her tearful state she wasn't paying enough attention so she lets out a tiny squeak in response.

This is a new face, but he seems like a concerned citizen more than a threat. All the same, she clutches the dress protectively to her chest as she sniffles and clears her throat to answer.

"Elsie is... not hurt."

"Yeah, totally. I'd be happy to. My stuff's just at the orphanage— uh, dorm house. Whatever."

Distinction without a difference most of the time, even if she isn't actually an orphan. Most of the actual kids there are and she feels like an honorary one a lot of the time.

"Worried-excited or worried-worried?"

From above him comes a soft giggle. Elsie dangles from a limb of her tree by her knees, looking at him upside down through her wild mane of pink hair.

"Map too hard? Want clue?"

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Elsie Open Post | NPC OTA

[Closed For Pyotr]

bee jamboree!

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Mending Is Hard

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Bee Jamboree!

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Mending is Hard

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Lost & Found

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