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Description
Prompt 1 - Environmental Changes

Base Score: 4 GP (Shaded Illustration)
+2 GP (Full Body)
+6 GP (Full/Scenic Background)
+2 GP (Event Bonus)
Total GP per submission: 14

Base Score: 10 AP (Shaded Illustration)
+5 AP (Full Body)
+20 AP (Full/Scenic Background)
+5 AP (Personal Work Bonus)
+5 AP (Event Bonus)
Total AP per submission: 45

Prompt 2 - Inner Reflections

It was fall. How quickly had it become fall? It seemed only moments ago that leaves still blanketed the trees, but now they laid naked and the group still hadn't returned to normal. Ouida used to hang around by the park, but nowadays she only lingered by the bridge where Saint used to stay. Ittissint was melancholy but wouldn't admit it, and Epoch had family matters... it all seemed to do with origin in one way or another. Epoch returning to his family who had all come from animals, and the rift between Saint and Ittissint forging from a conflict of authority. Saint was the only one in their group that came from something living. It used to never cross her mind, but nowadays Ouida found herself lying in waiting, just hoping he'd come back to the city. Hoping normalcy would be restored. Is this what it was to be a spirit that never knew life? It seemed so natural to slip into - speech, motion, the defaults that one could observe in some form from any creature. She had learned the rules long ago, but... was it possible she had missed things less seen? It felt ridiculous that after so long a time as a spirit, she'd have overlooked something so evident, but here she was failing to empathize. Failing to find comfort in herself, relying on companionship. Despite her decades as a ghost, she panicked with the emotions of a newborn. It came so easily to her before. She was relaxed all the time, a little dry, but mostly loped around having casual fun with the few friends she hung around. It was natural, like the path a river chose. But that path had been threatened. Her friends were gone or too sad for the tone she was used to their interactions carrying. Her abnormality gave her strength of spirit and peace of mind, but no insight on the machinations of others. Ouida sighed, lying on the stone bridge and letting her tail fall off over the edge. Any time a human passed by, the shadow would at first give her hope that it might've been Saint's upright shape. Had she no plan other than to wait? Was there nothing left in her but to stall out? Despite all this play-acting like a beast of four legs, was it possible she hadn't really evolved? Was it all just a pretty package for the gilded clover she started life as? Or the gold ore she must've been before that? What was she really, and was that thing capable of real connection or understanding, real emotions? It was intimidating to think that this whole time she hadn't really been feeling and thinking and carving out a personality, but perhaps just play-acting so well that she'd convinced herself that she was anything more than an object given an abstract form - a mask of life still so clearly rooted in the spirit world. A puppet being pulled by an ornament some esk had found and deemed transformable... Ouida stood suddenly and stared up at the sky, then lept off the bridge and began down the road. She didn't want to sit anymore. Introspection didn't suit her.

Base Score: 10 AP (Writing: 533 words)
+5 AP (Event Bonus)
Total AP per submission: 15

Base Score: 5 GP (Writing: 533 words)
+2 GP (Event Bonus)
Total GP per submission: 7

Prompt 3 - Fall Activities

Bells had been ringing all throughout the day, and now that night fell, the Madame floated out of the earth to see what had happened in the world. The chimes still echoed through the spirit corridors that caught on the tombstones as a heavy fog, still rang through the unliving realm. La Mort strode through the leaf-laced trailed with a leveled, graceful gate, always an air of somber reservation in her mannerisms. Other lesser spirits began drifting out of the ground, hovering over the land, though they couldn't interact with the lady. Esk were a special, more intentional breed. They shared a plane, but little else. It also seemed to her like the spirits came out in higher quantity tonight, perhaps because of the... changes that occurred as she lay dormant in the day hours. Still passing through the frozen soundwaves of a bells' toll, she looked over the land and was aware at once of the difference. Some change of ceremony.. some new observance. Candles had been strung over the place like tiny cities in the dark, each on their own illuminated hilltop, backlighting a tomb. It was a warmer landscape than the exclusively moonlit range she was accustomed to, and it struck her as so clearly more mystifying and honorable than the unlit alternative, she had to wonder why the humans wouldn't always take this approach. Minding her step without having to look, she inspected every corner for each unique candle that hid there. Some were highly engraved or colored, others beautiful in their robust simplicity. Tall ones in ornate holders, mighty pillars that stood with no dish in the grass, little clusters of tea lights in neat rows or by themselves in cautious piles of leaves. La Mort would touch her nose to the wicks, letting her eyes be taken in by the flame, and raise her head up completely before gently dipping it back down to see the next spark. Was it too much effort for the humans to make it like this every night? Some lingered still on blankets in the grass or simply milling about, and they seemed taken in by the sights as opposed to visiting a specific resident. Were it so preferable an aesthetic to every creature, would it not make sense to manage a candle-lit cemetery every night? Was there ever reason to leave it dripping in darkness instead of ornamented in radiant glowing clusters of pure candle-light? Madame La Mort sighed in resignation. Another product of human lethargy she feared. Sometimes the excuse could've been made that something is more appreciated when it has increased scarcity, but she wasn't convinced this was the case here. This extra measure, whether its cause was some local holiday, a special death's celebration, or an indication of changing seasons, it should've been adapted to every night, for every day should be hallowed, every death was special, and the seasons were always in change. Perhaps someday the humans would acquire La Mort's higher sense of reverence. A little extra time and preparation was no issue, after all, in the name of improved ceremony. Mortals had to understand that life's short duration did not bring cause to abandon time-consuming tasks. What a savory waste.

Base Score: 10 AP (Writing: 538 words)
+5 AP (Event Bonus)
Total AP per submission: 15

Base Score: 5 GP (Writing: 538 words)
+2 GP (Event Bonus)
Total GP per submission: 7

Description
Prompt 1 - Environmental Changes

Base Score: 4 GP (Shaded Illustration)
+2 GP (Full Body)
+6 GP (Full/Scenic Background)
+2 GP (Event Bonus)
Total GP per submission: 14

Base Score: 10 AP (Shaded Illustration)
+5 AP (Full Body)
+20 AP (Full/Scenic Background)
+5 AP (Personal Work Bonus)
+5 AP (Event Bonus)
Total AP per submission: 45

Prompt 2 - Inner Reflections

It was fall. How quickly had it become fall? It seemed only moments ago that leaves still blanketed the trees, but now they laid naked and the group still hadn't returned to normal. Ouida used to hang around by the park, but nowadays she only lingered by the bridge where Saint used to stay. Ittissint was melancholy but wouldn't admit it, and Epoch had family matters... it all seemed to do with origin in one way or another. Epoch returning to his family who had all come from animals, and the rift between Saint and Ittissint forging from a conflict of authority. Saint was the only one in their group that came from something living. It used to never cross her mind, but nowadays Ouida found herself lying in waiting, just hoping he'd come back to the city. Hoping normalcy would be restored. Is this what it was to be a spirit that never knew life? It seemed so natural to slip into - speech, motion, the defaults that one could observe in some form from any creature. She had learned the rules long ago, but... was it possible she had missed things less seen? It felt ridiculous that after so long a time as a spirit, she'd have overlooked something so evident, but here she was failing to empathize. Failing to find comfort in herself, relying on companionship. Despite her decades as a ghost, she panicked with the emotions of a newborn. It came so easily to her before. She was relaxed all the time, a little dry, but mostly loped around having casual fun with the few friends she hung around. It was natural, like the path a river chose. But that path had been threatened. Her friends were gone or too sad for the tone she was used to their interactions carrying. Her abnormality gave her strength of spirit and peace of mind, but no insight on the machinations of others. Ouida sighed, lying on the stone bridge and letting her tail fall off over the edge. Any time a human passed by, the shadow would at first give her hope that it might've been Saint's upright shape. Had she no plan other than to wait? Was there nothing left in her but to stall out? Despite all this play-acting like a beast of four legs, was it possible she hadn't really evolved? Was it all just a pretty package for the gilded clover she started life as? Or the gold ore she must've been before that? What was she really, and was that thing capable of real connection or understanding, real emotions? It was intimidating to think that this whole time she hadn't really been feeling and thinking and carving out a personality, but perhaps just play-acting so well that she'd convinced herself that she was anything more than an object given an abstract form - a mask of life still so clearly rooted in the spirit world. A puppet being pulled by an ornament some esk had found and deemed transformable... Ouida stood suddenly and stared up at the sky, then lept off the bridge and began down the road. She didn't want to sit anymore. Introspection didn't suit her.

Base Score: 10 AP (Writing: 533 words)
+5 AP (Event Bonus)
Total AP per submission: 15

Base Score: 5 GP (Writing: 533 words)
+2 GP (Event Bonus)
Total GP per submission: 7

Prompt 3 - Fall Activities

Bells had been ringing all throughout the day, and now that night fell, the Madame floated out of the earth to see what had happened in the world. The chimes still echoed through the spirit corridors that caught on the tombstones as a heavy fog, still rang through the unliving realm. La Mort strode through the leaf-laced trailed with a leveled, graceful gate, always an air of somber reservation in her mannerisms. Other lesser spirits began drifting out of the ground, hovering over the land, though they couldn't interact with the lady. Esk were a special, more intentional breed. They shared a plane, but little else. It also seemed to her like the spirits came out in higher quantity tonight, perhaps because of the... changes that occurred as she lay dormant in the day hours. Still passing through the frozen soundwaves of a bells' toll, she looked over the land and was aware at once of the difference. Some change of ceremony.. some new observance. Candles had been strung over the place like tiny cities in the dark, each on their own illuminated hilltop, backlighting a tomb. It was a warmer landscape than the exclusively moonlit range she was accustomed to, and it struck her as so clearly more mystifying and honorable than the unlit alternative, she had to wonder why the humans wouldn't always take this approach. Minding her step without having to look, she inspected every corner for each unique candle that hid there. Some were highly engraved or colored, others beautiful in their robust simplicity. Tall ones in ornate holders, mighty pillars that stood with no dish in the grass, little clusters of tea lights in neat rows or by themselves in cautious piles of leaves. La Mort would touch her nose to the wicks, letting her eyes be taken in by the flame, and raise her head up completely before gently dipping it back down to see the next spark. Was it too much effort for the humans to make it like this every night? Some lingered still on blankets in the grass or simply milling about, and they seemed taken in by the sights as opposed to visiting a specific resident. Were it so preferable an aesthetic to every creature, would it not make sense to manage a candle-lit cemetery every night? Was there ever reason to leave it dripping in darkness instead of ornamented in radiant glowing clusters of pure candle-light? Madame La Mort sighed in resignation. Another product of human lethargy she feared. Sometimes the excuse could've been made that something is more appreciated when it has increased scarcity, but she wasn't convinced this was the case here. This extra measure, whether its cause was some local holiday, a special death's celebration, or an indication of changing seasons, it should've been adapted to every night, for every day should be hallowed, every death was special, and the seasons were always in change. Perhaps someday the humans would acquire La Mort's higher sense of reverence. A little extra time and preparation was no issue, after all, in the name of improved ceremony. Mortals had to understand that life's short duration did not bring cause to abandon time-consuming tasks. What a savory waste.

Base Score: 10 AP (Writing: 538 words)
+5 AP (Event Bonus)
Total AP per submission: 15

Base Score: 5 GP (Writing: 538 words)
+2 GP (Event Bonus)
Total GP per submission: 7