Venusian's Submissions Thread

Agnes hated the tar pits! They were sticky, and annoying, and scary, and she was halfway to being a black blob instead of an orange one. She didn’t want to sink... she hadn’t been to many places, but this one was definitely her least favourite. She didn’t have any water to wash off the clinging tar with, and she was worried that it was going to stain her. She couldn’t explain it, she just... didn’t like it. It didn’t feel like the kind of thing you touched and walked away clean.

As soon as she fulfilled that bunny-thing’s request, she would be gone so fast! She just needed to burn something, apparently? Now, the Agnes of many numbers down the line would likely be horrified by her actions, but as it stood, she was just dropped unceremoniously into the world a little while ago, and things like ‘philosophy’ and ‘morality’ were still a work in progress. It’s a lot to figure out for one little blob.

(She would also be horrified that she had helped entertain the daughter of chaos itself, but for better or worse, Agnes hadn’t exactly learned about the gods yet, either.)

So a small fire on... a plant? Plants don’t feel pain, right? Also, wait, how was she even supposed to start a fire? How does someone start a fire? Her not-head was starting to hurt with all these questions. She did, at least, know that fire spreads. So when she found a pretty purple flower, with flames licking at it’s petals – and it was so beautiful, giving off the faintest sound of chiming bells...

She would focus! Not get distracted by the pretty flower! She wasn’t really sure why she was doing this, even as she plucked the stem, but... she’d been asked politely? Sort of politely. Um, politely enough that she would have felt rude saying no.

With the fire from the purple plant, Agnes brushed it over another carefully-plucked plant (one that wasn’t naturally on fire). It not-being-on-fire didn’t last very long though. One, singular, tiny flower burned before the little orange-and-black blob. Chaos reigns!

Agnes didn’t know why, but... watching it burn, she felt a little bit bad. Sure, the fire was pretty. But the flower had been pretty too, and now it was gone. She felt a little bit guilty and hollow, looking down at the ashes. “... sorry.” She added quietly. She had a feeling that she couldn’t quite place, that you were supposed to scatter ashes? She couldn’t remember the logic behind it, but still, she collected the ashes she’d made.

This was no good place to scatter ashes, though. She felt like you were supposed to do it somewhere nice. She’d carry it with her until she found a nice place to put them.

She... didn’t think she wanted to do that again.

(Word Count: 475)