Etudes for the Left Mind

Etude 20: (names are for the weak!)

2004-12-22T13:05:00.000+08:00

I just had to include the flute scene as soon as I thought of it. I've been waiting for chapters for a good place for it. :P

Etude 20

Sarah stopped along the trail, trying to fan herself with a broad leaf. "Is it just me, or is it getting really hot in here?"
Armand stopped, and considered. "It is getting kind of hot."
"Nice and warm! Just like home! Yay!"
Sarah blinked. "Armand, did you notice leaving the forest?"
"No." He spun around to look behind him. There was only a vast expanse of desert, with no sign of a forest anywhere. In front was more desert, and a wall made of a glowing, shimmering substance in the distance. "I guess this is on the way to the Eyes."
"I guess."
"Real sand!" exclaimed Quickling. He happily burrowed down a little way, and then started frolicking in the stuff.
"Hey, watch out! You're getting sand all over us!"
"Oh. Sorry, Armand." Quickling stopped playing.
"Just be a bit more careful."
"Any idea what this place is," asked Sarah.
"Sand!"
"Let me see if it's mapped. Armand searched through his pack until he found the worn, creased map that one of the Mound Folk had given them. It was not nearly as readable or well-made as the one from the Butterfly People, but it was serviceable. "Hmm."
"The only desert I see listed there is the Wailing Desert, which is where the Eyes are."
"I don't hear any wailing."
"It could be a metaphor or something."
"I don't think anything has been metaphorical here."
"Oh yeah. But it still might be something you only hear sometimes."
"And... I don't know, I guess I feel like it shouldn't be this easy to reach the Eyes."
"I guess." Sarah strained her eyes to make out the shimmering barrier. "You want to see what that thing is?"
"Okay." They trudged on through the sands, with only Quickling enjoying the heat.

After a short time they came to a circle of stones in the desert. The stones were smooth and glassy; black with sparkles trapped within. They were arranged around a central stone. On the rim of the stone were twelve cups, each filled with a different liquid. One of the outer stones had an inscription that was unreadable until they got closer. [insert cool poem here about choosing the liquid that brings life and calm. insert part where they manage to figure out which one it is.]
"So, um, what do we do with this?" Sarah swirled the liquid around in its cup, staring into its depths.
"Well, there's that hole in the center. Maybe we need to put the cup there? Or pour the liquid in or something?"
"I can't see anything! Why do the stones have to be so high?"
"Shh, Quickling. When you grow up you'll be taller than they are."
"But then I won't be able to move!"
Sarah patted him absently with the hand not holding the cup. She reached for the center, trying not to overturn any of the other cups, but couldn't make it. She handed the cup to Armand. "You have more reach than I do."
He nodded, and moved some of the cups aside so they wouldn't get in the way. Stretching, he managed to put the cup into the central hole. Its dodecagonal base fit exactly in and settled with a satisfying click. The cup disappeared in a soft glowing haze and a shower of blue sparks. After the haze cleared, they could see a large bowl, also filled with liquid. On top of it was a flute. Armand tried to reach for the bowl, but it was too heavy to move easily and he had no leverage to speak of. "Argh," he said conversationally.
"It's too far?"
"Yeah."
"If only we had a hook or something."
"We're not fishermen."
"No, but... Oh! How about if you push it to the otherside with your sword? That should put it within arm's reach."
"That's a good idea." Armand unsheathed the Sword of Peace and started to extend it across the stone. He stopped midway.
"What's wrong?"
"There's some kind of resistance. It's like trying to push it through rubber or something. I can't get it in any farther."
"Oh."
"It was a good idea."
"Yeah."
"Do we have to get that bowl?"
Armand blinked. "I don't know. It's obviously here for some reason."

"Yeah, but maybe all that we had to do was make it appear."
"But the poem mentioned something about using the results of our labors."
"Oh yeah. Umm." She looked at the stone carefully. It wasn't all that high -- just about as high as a balance beam. "What if I just stand on this thing and walk up to the bowl?"
"I don't know. I never thought of that." He looked a little embarassed.
Sarah gripped the edge and pushed experimentally. "I can get up on it." She clambered on to the stone. There was no resistance. "Cool! I'm up!"
"Yay," said Armand dryly.
"Let me get the bowl." Sarah walked across to the bowl and picked it up. "Whoa, this thing's heavy." She looked at the flute perched on the rim. "Hmm, it's set into the bowl somehow..." Slowly, she made her way back to the edge, and set the bowl down. Then she climbed back off the platform. "Whew, that felt weird."
"Did it seem dangerous?"
"No, just hot. The thing's been baking in the sun for who knows how long, and my shoes aren't that thick."
"Ahh." He looked at the bowl. "Hey, there's another inscription."
"What's it say?"
"Hmm..." [insert cool poem about how drinking the liquid gives the drinker power to extend calm]
"That, uh, makes no sense," said Sarah.
"Well, I think we're supposed to drink the stuff."
"Sarah? Armand?"
"What is it?"
"Umm... Are there supposed to be flames everywhere?"
"Flames -- what?" Sarah looked up, startled. "Eeek!" The shimmering barrier that they had seen earlier had come closer, and proved to be a web of vigorously dancing flames. The flames were coming closer and closer, from all angles. They seemed unable or unwilling to enter the circle provided by the stones.
"Sarah, I can't get this flute off the bowl."
"What? Oh." She turned back to him. She could feel the heat now, although not very much; the circle of stones seeemed to shield them from the extreme temperature as well. She looked at the bowl. "Oh, I'll bet it's one of those things... If you drink from the bowl, you'll be able to pick up the flute."
"Ahh."
"Here, let me." She reached for the bowl.
He glared at her. "Can you play the flute?"
"Um, I can play a recorder. It can't be that different."
Armand looked at her, vexed, and tilted the bowl to his lips before she could stop him. He drained the thing in one large gulp, grimacing at the taste. "Ugh! That's worse than medicine!" He picked up the flute -- it came away easily in his hands -- and started to play.
Sarah stood there gaping for a while. Armand was playing the flute easily and expertly -- it was some piece that sounded vaguely familiar to her but that she couldn't place. And, incredibly, the flames seemed to respond to the music. Their dancing changed to a slow swaying in time to the melody issuing from the instrument. "Armand, they're responding to the music!"
He nodded absently, then closed his eyes and segued into a different tune. This one was more spritely and was definitely a dance of some sort. The flames began to dance. The sight was beautiful, and Sarah just watched it for a while. It was like staring into a fireplace on a cold winter's night, but even more so. Then she realized that Armand was moving, and doing his best to beckon her with jerks of his head. Quickling was already following him. Looking at where he was headed, she realized that the flames had opened a path. She followed quickly, a little nervous. Once they left the protection of the stones, she felt a sudden onrush of heat, but then the melody changed again, more subtly, and the heat was gone. Armand kept walking, playing the flute, until they had left the flames far behind them. Then he collapsed limply onto a nearby dune and let the flute drop. He was panting.
"Huff... I haven't played that long in ages."
"I didn't know you played the flute."
"You never asked." He shrugged. "Not something I advertise."
"Why, was it your mom's idea?"
"Yeah. Her other friends had their kids on pianos and violins, so she made me take up the flute just to be different." He grimaced. "Argh, just need to get my breath back..." He looked in the direction of the flames, which were now retreating. "I sent them away."
"How did you know what to do?"
"It's... The flute is a little like the Sword. It prompts you to do what needs to be done. It might do even better with a proper awakening, but I didn't think of that." He held it out to Sarah.
She took the flute from his hands, and then yelped as she dropped it. "Whoa! That thing's heavy!"
He looked at her curiously. "Hmm."
Quickling crept up to the flute and poked at it with some rocks. "Oooh, pretty."
"Don't eat it."
"I won't! I know better! It's kind of like me, anyway."
"Huh? What do you mean?"
"It touches the ground. It's meant to touch the ground unless it's forced not to."
"You mean gravity?" Asked Sarah.
"Gra-vi-tee?"
"Never mind." She turned to Armand. "Is your breath back yet?"
"Yeah." He picked up the flute again, looked around his clothes, and stuck it in one of his pockets, next to the Sword.
"Weren't you going to try to awaken it?"
"Oh yeah." He took the flute out of his pocket, looked at it blankly, blinked, and put it away. "I'm not sure now is a good time."
"Okay."
"Where are we?" Asked Quickling.
"Um, I was hoping you would know," said Sarah.
"We're in a desert!"
"Yeah, I think we figured that part out."
"There's something over that way, I think." Armand pointed at a dark shape on the horizon. He shaded his eyes to look at it. "I think they're mountains of some sort."
"What does the Sword say?"
"Hmm." Armand drew the Sword of Peace and closed his eyes. After a while, he opened them. "It says that those are the Sudden Mountains, and we are probably very far from the Eyes of the Whirlwind."
"Oh."
"Why are they called Sudden Mountains?"
"Umm... Give me a moment." He got that listening look on his face again. "Because they appear suddenly and without warning, even if you were somewhere else before."
"Oh. I guess that's why we didn't notice them earlier."
"Well, the Sword says we can probably get to the Eyes through them, so I guess that's the way we're going."

Etude 19: Allegramente Capriccio

2004-12-20T10:01:00.000+08:00

Etude 19, posted at last! There's an underlined section that makes very little sense; I wrote it while falling asleep. Literally. I'd close my eyes and still be trying to type and be in that doze-y half-dreaming state and then I'd open my eyes and there'd be words. I woke myself enough to make sure they were proper sentences, but that was all.
Also, I was trying to go for an H.R. Geiger-esque setting with the Shrine of Winter. Jut because.

Armand felt a very slight tug leading off to the west, so there they went. Richsoil had explained to them that the geography of Farelle changed based on the need and desire of those travelling. Two travellers might head for the same place at the same time, and they might end up in entirely different locations once they reached the border of the current region. That said, there were some rules about what regions could border what, and so the directional pull of the Sword of Peace was meant to lead them along the shortest route to retrieve it. Nothing had been said about whether or not it was also the safest route.
"Armand?" Sarah sounded a little worried.
"Hmm?"
"It looks like we're back in the Forest of Winter again..."
"Yikes."
"The Forest of Winter? I've heard of that! It's cold all the time!" Quickling spun excitedly.
"Um, Quickling, it's not a very nice place..."
"That's okay. Who would want to harm meeeee?"
"Well..." started Sarah.
"There might be people who don't want to hurt you but are happy to hurt us," said Armand.
"Ohhhh. That's not nice."
"No, it's not." Sarah turned to Armand. "Is the Sword this way?"
He nodded. "Well, it kind of makes sense, since this is where we were when we lost it."
"I wish it didn't."
"Yeah, me too. Do you see any of those reaver things?"
"So far, not yet."
"Good." He stopped for a moment, then re-oriented himself. "That way."

They trudged on in silence for a while. Finally Sarah spoke up. "Does this place look familiar to you?"
Armand looked up and through the trees. "The Shrine of Winter is pretty close, I think."
"Oh, is this where we got ambushed?"
"Maybe. Or somewhere nearby, at least."
"And let me guess. The Sword seems to be in the Shrine?" Sarah sounded hesitant, as if she hoped that her guess was inaccurate.
"Yeah, it's that way."
"Great."
"I want to see the Shrine!"
"You'll get your chance, Quickling." Sarah turned to Armand. "Why is he with us again?"
Armand shrugged. "Richsoil thought he might be useful. Although personally I think he just wanted us to keep Quickling out of trouble."
"I heard that! And I don't get into trouble!"
"Are you sure? What about that story your grandfather told us about the time you sneaked off --"
"He was exaggerating!"
"Or the time you nearly caused an avalanche on your brothers and sisters?"
"It wasn't an avalanche..."
Sarah shook her head, smiling amusedly. "Anyway. Be careful. If you see any black shapes flitting through the trees, warn us immediately."
"Okay! You mean like that one over there?" Quickling bounced towards the direction.
"Where?"
"Hah hah, made you look!"
"Quickling!"
"Aww, you're no fun anymore."
Armand sighed and shook his head. "Sorry, I'm just nervous about this place. It's giving me the creeps."
They were much closer to the Shrine of Winter now, and could see its spires clearly. They were sharp and jagged, reaching towards the sky like a large, taloned claw. They also seemed to be shining in the winter sunlight -- a bright harsh gleam running over their surfaces. "Damn it, still that way."
"I don't like the looks of that place."
"No, I don't either."
"It looks fun!"
"Quickling!" They both said at the same time.
"But it does!"
"Never mind," said Sarah as Armand was about to tell Quickling off. "I don't think he'll learn."
He looked at the little mound travelling with them. "No, probably not. Come on. I think the entrance is that way."

The trees around them were as bare as the others, but these ones seemed to have lost their leaves to something more than the winter chill. The branches were blackened and twisted, and most of them looked quite dead. Out of the corner of her eye, Sarah thought she could see one of the trees reaching out with its branches, and she shuddered. There were fallen branches by the wayside, and skeletal bushes that looked about as cheerful as the trees did. The growths eventually gave way to a clear path that led straight up to the shrine. The tree branches stretched over the path, hiding the sky even when the path below was clear. Slowly, the shrine came into view. It gleamed in the wan winter light, the light caught in the intricate traceries that patterned its entire surface. It was made entirely out of metal.
"Um... Is the shrine supposedly to look like that?" Sarah sounded worried.
"I don't know. There's not much metal used in Farelle..."
"It's so shiny!" Quickling darted forward towards it, but Armand managed to snag his back.
"Wait, it might be dangerous."
"Oh... Fiiine."
"Is the sword in there?"
Armand closed his eyes. "I think so. The pull is very strong now... And straight ahead."
"So we do get to go in there!"
Sarah looked at Quickling, slightly amused. "Yes, we do. At least we don't have to look around for the entrance." She pointed at the gaping hole in the metal structure. It was surrounded by ridged tubes that almost looked like tentacles.
Armand looked at the two of them. "I guess I'll go first." His mouth quirked with distate at the thought, but he led the way along the path. Nothing met them as they approached the shrine. No shapes jumped out of bushes to surprise them; no black cloaks fluttered at the edges of vision.
"Is it just me, or are you getting nervous since nothing's happening?"
"I'm nervous," said Sarah, chewing on her lip and trying not to think about what might happen.
"I'm not!"
"Yes, we already know you're immune to fear or something."
"Yay!"
They were at the entrance. Sarah looked anxiously up at the tubes framing the entrance. From close up, they looked even more like the tentacles of some strange, bio-mechanical monstrosity. She swallowed, hard. "I don't like this."
"But the Sword's in there."
"I wish it weren't."
"I do too. Come on." And Armand led the way in.

Sarah wasn't sure what she'd expected of the inside of the temple, but it was not what she saw. There was an insistent thrumming that came from the floor, and there were strips of glowing light along the walls. The strips were bright enough to see by, and were a sickly yellow-green. Everywhere on the walls were pipes and tubing, crammed into such labyrinthine arrangements that they seemed to be the guts of some living thing. The floor, at least, was flat, except for the occasional ridge running along the center of a corridor. Something seemed to be moving just underneath the ridge, pulsing with a dark blue light.
"This doesn't look very winter-like," said Sarah.
"No, it doesn't."
"Look at all the tubes on the wall!"
"Um, don't touch. I don't think it's a good idea." Sarah pulled Quickling away from the walls
"My pods feel funny. I'm not sure I'm supposed to be walking on floor."
"Or maybe the floor is just funny and we're not supposed to be walking on it either," said Armand wryly.
Sarah stopped suddenly and knelt down to look at Quickling. "Armand?"
"What is it?" He stopped and turned back to them.
"Quickling doesn't look right."
"I feel like everything's moving... It's kind of like after spinning except not." The child Mound was quivering slightly in a very un-rock-like way, and his mouth was opening and closing like a fish.
"What's happening to him?"
Sarah shook her head. "I don't know. He looks kind of greenish..."
"I'm not supposed to be green!"
"Hush, I know. Do you think I can uproot and carry you or something?"
"Maybe... But I don't think I'm supposed to be uprooted, either."
"Hmm... I don't know what to do. Armand, how far is it to the Sword?"
"The Sword? Uhh..." He concentrated for a moment. "I think it's pretty close, but I don't have an exact fix on distance."
"Quickling, do you think you can hold out for a bit longer?"
"I - uh - I think? If you need me to."
"I'm not sure I want to leave you alone outside."
"Oh. I think I'll be okay then."
"That's a brave boy." She petted him affectionately. "Stay close to me. Maybe if you stay away from the walls it will help."
They continued on, Armand increasing his pace as the Sword's pull grew stronger. Suddenly there was an odd, moist noise from the ground. Sarah looked down. Quickling had stopped and seemed to be oozing some thick, green substance.
"I don't feel so good," he said.
"You're oozing!"
"There's bad stuff here! It's bad!" Quickling's rocky features were in an array of distress.
"Hey, he's on one of those ridges on the floor! The ones that look like they're conduits of some sort."
Sarah looked at the floor. "You're right! Quickling, can you move to the side a little bit?"
"Okay. Ooohh, that is a bit better..."
"Quickling, have you had much experiencing purifying things?"
"Me? No. Big Sister is much better at it. Also she's bigger than me. I just get to make sure the water doesn't have too much dirt in it."
"Well, I think your body is trying to purify whatever's going through those ridges in the floor. And that's what's making you sick."
"Ooohh... Bad ridges!"
Sarah smiled a little at that. "Do you think you'll be okay if you make sure to avoid them?"
"I don't know... But I think I'm better now. A little. Can we get out of here yet?" Quickling did look a little better; he was no longer oozing toxins -- those had collected in an acrid green puddle on the floor.
"We're almost to the Sword," said Armand. "I think... Just beyond this next corner."
"Yay!" As they moved on, Quickling turned around to glare at the puddle of ooze. "Mean!" And then they were off.

After turning a corner, the corridor opened up into a larger chamber. At the far end were what looked like reavers, although they were not moving as quickly as before and seemed odd in some way. After a moment, Armand realized what it was. They, too, were metallic; their tattered robes were now dark meshes of woven metal and the chance-glimpsed limb was bright and shining. But that was not the biggest surprise. In the center of the chamber, in a standing transparent cylinder, was the Sword of Peace. Its blue glow flickered wanly, as if being drowned out by the sickly green light in the room. There were wires and tubes connected to the cylinder and leading off it. They were pulsing in time with the sword and seemed to glow from within.
"Um, that doesn't look good," whispered Sarah beside him.
"No, it doesn't."
"This place feels bad!"
"I know. Are you still okay?"
"I'm staying away from the ridges and the lights and it's better but I still feel not so good."
"Well, we can get out of here as soon as we figure out how to get the Sword out of there," said Armand. "Any ideas?"
"Umm... No?"
"I wish those things at the far end would leave so we could just go in and take the Sword."
"I have a feeling that it probably won't be that simple."
"Probably not. Got any tricks to pull up your sleeve?"
"I don't think so."
"They're doing bad things in there... They're making something pure into something not pure and it's making me feel sick."
"I guess that's what they're doing with the Sword of Peace." Armand looked annoyed.
"Armand, can you make the Sword come to you?"
"What?" He thought it over. "I don't know. I don't know even half of what the Sword can do..."
"Well, it's not something that matters much until the reavers are gone -- those are reavers, right?"
"I think you had a better glimpse of them than I did.
"They look... They're to the reavers what the metal butterflies were to the Butterfly People."
Armand grimaced. "That's not good."
"No, it's not."
"We need to distract them from the sword somehow."
"All I can think of is to make a noise so that they chase us, but that's not very helpful..."
"No, it's not. But -- hmm..."
"What?"
"How come none of them have come this way down the corridor? We haven't met a single reaver and we've been in here a while."
"Oh yeah." Worriedly, Sarah looked behind her. "Okay, there's nobody behind us. I was worried there would be."
"Hey, there's something happening up there." Someone else -- someone other than a reaver -- had entered the far end of the room, and seemed to be giving orders to the reavers that clustered there. Unfortunately, they blocked Armand's view, so he couldn't tell who the person was. Then the reavers stalked off to wherever they'd been told to go, and Armand could see a young man with black hair. At least he seemed like a young man; it was too far to really tell, but he didn't move like an old person. Something was naggingly familiar about him.
"Who's that?"
"Looks like he's in charge."
"Bad!" Quickling had huddled up against the wall, and was starting to ooze again.
Sarah looked at him, startled. "Quickling!"
"I'm not on the ridges. It's that man. He's not pure. He makes things not pure. This place is not pure. I want to get out!"
Armand was about to pat Quickling reassuringly, then remembered that the young mound was oozing toxins of some sort and drew back his hand. He looked into the chamber again. "The man's messing with some of the tubes there... Damn it, it doesn't look like he's going to budge any time soon."
"Oh, great. How about we just run in there screaming and hope we can make off with the sword before he catches us?"
Armand looked at her, a little suprised. "And I thought I was supposed to be the impetuous one."
"It's called sarcasm."
He shrugged. "At the moment, it's about as good a plan as I've come up with."
"Really?"
"Well, my idea involved you and Quickling running in there screaming while I went for the Sword and tried to free it and get its wards up in time to save you two from getting hurt."
"Okay."
"What?"
"Quickling's really sick. Anything we can do quickly is better than nothing."
He smiled a little at her concern. "Okay. Quickling?"
"I heard. But I can't run!"
"Who told us he was the fastest of the Mound Folk?"
"I did... But I feel sick. And that man will make me more sick."
"Maybe you could go up to him and throw all of that toxin in his face?"
"I don't know how."
"Can you collect it somewhere safe?"
"I... maybe?" Quickling hunkered down and flattened himself. "I think I can do it, but not for very long."
"Can you spit it back out once you've collected it?"
"Yeah. Can we do this quickly?"
"Sarah?"
"Yeah. Come on, Quickling, let's make a distraction."

Sarah raised the eating dagger she'd been given by the Mound Folk and rushed into the room, yelling in true Xena style. Quickling followed on her heels, reaching the man and circling him. Armand rushed in behind them, crawling as fast as he could until he reached the Sword. He heard the sounds of someone spitting, and someone else screaming. Quickling must have spit back the poison onto the man. Armand's knees burned from the rough floor, even through his pants. He couldn't tell what Sarah was doing, then tried to focus his attention back on getting to the Sword. He heard another sound of spitting -- Quickling must have absorbed enough venom for a second round. Finally, he reached the sword. It was encased in a cylinder of some smooth, transparent material. It didn't feel like glass. He tapped it experimentally. There was no way he could break it with his hands. He fished around for his dagger and tried scratching the surface. The dagger made no impression on the cylinder at all. Oh no! What is this stuff? He tried jabbing it into the side of the cylinder. The blade sunk in, and Armand could see the substance denting around it as if it were stretchy plastic or rubber. He spared a quick glance up at Sarah and Quickling. The man -- whose back was to Armand -- was now advancing on Sarah, who looked like she was panicking. Quickling was trying to tangle himself up in the man's feet, but seemed to be weaving unsteadily -- probably from the effects of the venom he was purifying. There must be some way to break through this stuff. He looked at the cylinder again, and all its connections. He heard Sarah shriek, and tried to ignore it. There was one tube that led straight into the cylinder, rather than into its base. There was a strange light pulsing through it. He tried nicking the tube with the dagger; it gave a little bit, but not all the way -- the material was too thick to be easily pierced. He started sawing away at the tube.
"Get away from me!" Shouted Sarah.
"I will make you pay for this dearly. You and your little Mound friend... Oh yes, I have a use for your friend."
Armand sawed more frantically. The material was starting to give way. He started worrying at the slice with the point of his dagger, twisting and turning it like a drill.
"You're not doing anything to him!"
"Oh? And you're going to stop me?"
"Yes!" Armand felt the sudden increase in tension. "Stop!"
Armand jabbed the point of the dagger into the tube as hard as he could, and was gratified by the sensation of the dagger sinking in. Belatedly he realized that cutting into a tube carrying a probably noxious substance might not have been a good idea, but the pressure in the tube had already caused it to break free. It sprayed a foul-smelling gas over Armand, and he started coughing violently. The smell made him gag, and he would have emptied the contents of his stomach if his last meal hadn't been several hours ago. Tears streamed from his eyes, making it impossible to see. He tried to reach out to the hole where the tube had entered the cylinder and force it open, but he couldn't tell what he was touching. He heard Sarah shriek and realized she must have lost her hold over the man. Somehow he managed to grab the hole, and he pulled. The material stretched thickly, and he groped around blindly inside for the sword. He felt its sharp blade cut into his hand. He grabbed it and tried to draw it out through the hole. The gas was making him shiver uncontrollably. He nearly lost his grasp on the sword. Please. Help me do this, he begged the sword. I have to do this... I can't leave them at the mercy of that man. He tried to awaken the Sword again, felt it thrum in his hands disturbingly. Instead of its usual steady hum was a series of sharp, irregular vibrations. He spread his blood on the sword, hoping it would calm it down. His head was spinning, and it felt heavy... He wanted just to lie down and rest for a while. The nausea and coughing were gone, replaced by a spreading icy numbness. It was hard to feel his toes anymore, and the only reason his fingers were still warm was because of the Sword. He couldn't hear anything going on anymore. It seemed like the only thing in his universe was the Sword of Peace, which was not responding. It seemed to throb reluctantly in his hands -- or maybe it was just confused from what it had been through. He thought he heard a soft, small cracking sound. Warmth rippled through the room, washing him in the scent of flowers. There was a moment's comfort, and then he fell unconscious.

Sarah held her breath as she walked over to where Armand lay, clutching the Sword of Peace. She'd noticed the noxious gas surrounding him, and seen the blood he so liberally applied to the blade. Quickling dashed ahead of her, burbling happily that most of the "not pure-ness" was gone. He stopped by Armand. "Why's he lying on the floor?"
"I think there was poison gas..."
"Poison! Mean! I think... I think there's still some. I can clean it for you!"
She smiled. "Thanks, Quickling. But are you sure you're up to it?"
"Yeah! Big Sister never cleaned this much up by herself! Granddaddy will be so proud of me!"
Sarah laughed, and let Quickling do his work. Soon enough, the air lost its nauseating quality and Quickling spit out a small stream of vile liquid into the corner where he'd dumping the rest of the toxins. She knelt by Armand, and shook him gently. "Armand?"
"Nnngh?"
"It's safe now, I think."
He opened his eyes blearily. "My throat hurts."
"You were breathing in something poisonous. Quickling's taken care of the last of it."
He coughed a little. It sounded painful. "Do you have water?"
"Yeah." She handed him her waterskin, which he took and drank from eagerly.
"Ahhh... I'd ask for cough drops, but I think I'd be pushing my luck. He smiled weakly."
"If you feel good enough to joke, you must be in pretty good shape."
"I think the Sword's helping, now that it's free." He looked over at the room. The floor was now covered in various kinds of plants and flowers, some of them quite large. "What did you do?"
"Seraiel gave me a nut before we left. He told me to open it when I was in big trouble."
"Ahh."
"The man's unconscious. I think the poison Quickling spat at him ate at his face. Some of the plants are holding him down for now."
"Okay." Armand sat up gingerly. He reached out with a hand to steady himself. "Ow!" He snatched his hand back from the floor and looked at it. "Oh yeah. I grabbed the Sword blade first." He examined it carefully. The Sword was glowing a more healthy shade of blue than it had been when it had been in the cylinder, and it seemed to be thrumming contentedly. "I think the plant life is good for it."
"Probably. Can you stand up?"
"Hmm... Not yet, I think. I'm still kind of woozy from whatever that gas was."
"I'll check on the guy."
"Okay."
Sarah moved back to where the strange man was lying on the floor. Several plants had grown tendrils over him. Some of them had even flowered afterwards, so he looked like a flowery mound. He still seemed to be unconscious. Curious, Sarah looked around at the corridors to see how far the plant life reached. It didn't go very much beyond the chamber. But in the chamber itself... She stared at one of the walls. Previously, it had been covered with pipes and tubing and wires in a rather sinister way. Now, though, some of the vines had creeped up onto it from the bottom, and where they touched, the mechanical elements gave way to natural ones. At the base the wall was made of an intricate weaving of branches that looked quite pretty. The cylinder where Armand had rescued the sword seemed to be going through some sort of metamorphosis. As she watched, it shrank and grew wider, until it formed a relatively normal-looking altar made out of stone and dried tree boughs. The altar had six sides and a snowflake design on the top. The transformation was spreading throughout the chamber, but it reached an impasse in the corridors. She heard a noise, and looked at Armand. He was slowly getting to his feet, helping himself up with the altar beside him. She rushed over to help him.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah." He tapped the altar. "Pretty."
Sarah grinned. "Yeah, it is."
"How's your head?"
"My head? Oh!" She looked surprised. "It doesn't hurt at all."
"Maybe you gave your headache to me." Armand groaned.
"Should you be sitting on the altar?"
"I don't know." He stood up, a little shakily. "Quickling?"
"I'm here! I'm fine now! Mostly fine. It's still bad out that way." Quickling gestured towards the side of the chamber where the man had entered. "But the other way is happy."
Sarah looked back the way they'd come. She realized that whatever was in the tubing had been flowing away from the cylinder with the Sword on that side. So now that the corrupting influence was gone, it was reverting to its natural state. "That's good."
"I wonder where everybody else is. That guy sent the reavers away... I wonder what they're up to?"
"Dunno." Sarah looked over at the guy. "Hey, I think he's waking up. Want to talk to him?"
"Okay!!" Quickling spun excitedly. "I can tell him what a bad Mound he is! Doing the kinds of things that would make Mama all sick..."
"Well, I wouldn't miss that demonstration for the world," said Armand, grinning.
Sarah was already by the man's side. He still seemed to be sufering from the pain. Mindful of the dangers of touching any of the poisonous substance directly, Sarah poked him with her dagger. "Hello in there."
"Grrr."
"That's not very nice."
"Let me go."
"I don't think that's a good idea.
Armand came up behind her. "And besides, you're so much more decorative as a flowerbed."
The man uttered a curse of some sort, which failed to affect either of them. He glared at them behind a ruined, half-melted face. "There will be a reckoning for what you have done here this night," he said quietly, his voice dripping with menace. "Oh, yes, there will be a reckoning."
"Reckoning with who?"
"Hah! You expect me to fall for such a simple techqniue of interrogation. Let me tell you this: I will not be tricked so easily."
Sarah backed away a little, surprised at the vehemence of the doctor's reaction. "Well, I guess I'll leave it to my friend to get information out of you." She turned to Armand. "How about you?" She asked sweetly.
"Of course you can request mine aid at any time," Armand said sarcastically. He knelt down beside the flower mound. "So. Are you the guy responsible for putting the Sword in the cylinder and manipulating situations so that you'd get a chance to use it?
The man refused to answer.
["Oh, great, we've got a guy here who either has no clue what's going on or has every clue and no intention of letting us know what's going on."
The man still refused to answer. Armand was getting tempted to kick him. Instead, he just said "I don't like this guy. You try." And backed out so that Sarah could try her own methods.
"What? Me?"
"Shh, no displays of weakness in front of the interrogatees."
"I guess." She did her best to conform herself to the standard, and faced the man in the flower mound again.
"So what exactly were you doing here?"
"Raising a garden, what else?"
"Sarcasm?"
"It's better than idiocy. You should try it sometime. Oh wait, you can't -- you're an idiot!" The man seemed to find this insanely funny.]

Eventually, they managed to convince, cajole, and trick the man into telling them what was going on. He wasn't the mastermind of the plan, just one of the higher-ups. He didn't know who exactly his boss was, he'd just get visions telling him what to do. His boss was the one who put the Sword in the Shrine; he was just taking care of it. After finding out nothing more useful, they left him under the flower mound.
"Quickling?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you think you can do any more purification?"
"I don't think so." He looked ashamed, his rocks drooping with disappointment. "Sorry!"
"It's okay." Sarah petted him. "You've done plenty for today." She looked back at the Shrine. "I just don't want to leave it like this... It feels like unfinished business."
"It is unfinished business. But I don't know what we can do. I guess the Sword might be able to do something, but it's still recovering from the corrupting influences."
Sarah sighed. "Okay, then. Shall we head for a safer part of the Forest?"
"I'm not sure there is such a thing anymore."
"What? Why do you say that?"
"Well, if whoever this guy is who got the Sword -- probably Abenath -- managed to corrupt the Winter Shrine, he probably had his eye on the other three shrines as well."
"Oh yeah."
"So are we going to visit the other shrines? Yay!"
"Quickling, they might be as bad as this one."
"Oh." His face caved in. "Not so yay." Then he brightened up. "But we have the Sword now! It can fix things!"
Armand's mouth quirked at the edges as he tried not to laugh. "Yeah, but we need to save it for the big things that need fixing."
"Armand..."
"What?"
"If the reavers have already been corrupted, do you think the Butterfly People are okay?"
"Yikes! I forgot about that... I don't know."
"Well, I guess we'd better try to get to the Eyes of the Whirlwind again, since that's what we were initially sent to do."
"Yeah."
"Which way do you want to go?"
Quickling bounced excitedly. "That way!" He was indicating the livelier area of the Forest of Seasons, away from the Forest of Winter.
Armand shrugged. "Okay then." And they walked off.

I'M A NOVELIST!!!!

2004-12-03T18:33:00.000+08:00

So, um, yeah. I made 50,000 words, and verified it and everything. Yay! For a while after verifying I was just wandering around the house not believing that I'd actually managed to do it. Later on I went out for dinner to a place with really good chocolate cakes to celebrate. :)

Anyways. I'm not exactly finished with the novel. I got bogged down in the final confrontation, skimmed over some of it, and now need to write the happily-ever-after. I'm also looking into a PDF printer thingie so I can save my 20-odd RTF files as a single PDF for people to read.

But... Yeah. That was crazy. I can't believe I managed to write that much! But... Wheeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Etude 18: still too lazy to name this one

2004-11-26T06:45:00.000+08:00

So... I stopped in the middle of the sentence cause the time ran out. It also makes me more eager to return for the next session. Or something.

Edit: Put in the rest of the etude.

     Rocky greeted them in the morning with a friendly rumble. "I have had a chance to talk with the elders here, and they have promised to help you."

     "Really? Great!"

     "Is there any other news?"

     "Yes. Apparently there have been some troubling events occuring... Incursions of wolves where there should be none, and some of the more peaceful folk have reported that some of their member have become strangely metallic and insane."

     "Uh-oh," said Sarah. "Were any of them of the Butterfly People?"

     "I have heard nothing about them, but it is possible that they are too far away at this time."

     "Ahh." She turned to Armand. "Do you think Lysshander is all right?"

     He shrugged. "I don't know. You were the one who had the dreams."

     "Yeah... I wish I knew what to do."

     "Well, we can at least try to find the Sword of Peace. Or the Eyes of the Whirlwind. Or both."

     "You sound like you want to find the Sword first."

     "I'm worried about it. I don't think the burden of debt lifted when I lost the sword, so that means that we will be struggling against it without the help of the Sword. Which sounds like a bad thing."

     "Okay then." She turned to the ceiling. "Rocky, when can we meet the elders?"

     "Now, if you wish. I will let you out, and you can find your way to them. The largest hills are the elders. The one with the stand of trees growing out of him is Richsoil. You should talk to him." Rocky paused for a moment. "All of them are awake, so you will not need to use your talents to speak with them."

     "Oh, good."

     "My head still kinda aches from yesterday."

     "You may have a little more of the farris root, but too much is not good for you."

     "I know. Seraiel taught me about it."

     "Then I can trust you to do what is necessary. I am still recovering from my unnatural movement, I am afraid, so I will not be of much help."

     "You're still a great host."

     "Thank you, young ones. I would be a poor specimen of my race indeed if I could not still provide basic hospitality."

     Armand finished chewing on his breakfast vegetables. "Sarah, are you ready to go?"

     "In a bit. I want to let the root take effect first so I'm not walking around with a migraine."

     "Okay. Should we take our stuff?"

     "Yeah, might as well."

     "I'll check the packs." He moved off to their scavenged supplies and started going through them, making sure that they had everything they would need.
"Everything there?"
"Yeah, they're good."
"Yay. My headache's going."
"Let's go then." He stood and handed one of the packs to her. "Here."
"Goodbye, my friends," rumbled Rocky.
"We'll see you again, probably," said Sarah.
"Thanks for the stuff." And then they were off.

Outside was an area that looked somewhat like the Living Hills, but smaller. The Baby Hills, perhaps. Everywhere were small mounds, some of them darting about excitedly and apparently chasing each other and playing tag. There were a handful of full-sized hills around. One of them, the largest, had a stand of trees on it.
Armand pointed. "That must be Richsoil."
"Yeah, let's go."
As they walked, one of the little mounds came up to them and put itself in their way. "Hello!" It squeaked excitedly, its voice a high-pitched version of Rocky's deep rumble.
Sarah bent down to greet it. "Hello! What's your name?"
"I'm too little to have a proper name yet, but since I'm so fast, they call me Quickling! See, look at me go!" And it zoomed in a circle around them.
Sarah laughed. "You really are very fast, aren't you."
"Uh-huh!" A little crevice on the mound opened in the shape of broad grin. "What are you here for? I heard there's bad stuff going on and I know Rocky's not supposed to be here because he's too old and he's not one of the Elders who take care of us."
"There is some bad stuff going on. We're going to see Richsoil about it."
"Richsoil's my granddaddy! I'll race you there! Zoom!" And it zoomed off.
Sarah turned to Armand. "I'm not racing that kid."
He shook his head. "Me neither."
Quickling paused and turned around. "Slowpokes!"
"We're just lulling you into a false sense of security," shouted Armand.
"Yeah, right," muttered Sarah, giggling.
He elbowed her. "Oh, and I suppose you can outrun him?"
"Nope!" She shifted her pack. "Come on, I think Quickling's getting impatient."

After only a little more time, they reached Richsoil. Richsoil seemed to deserve its name, as not only trees, but grass, bushes, and flowers grew in profusion over the Mound Person's body. Quickling insisted on accompanying them, frequently running about them in circles and yelling for them to hurry up. At one point Armand dared him to spin in circles for a count of 30, after which Quickling was very dizzy and started weaving around unsteadily. After he recovered, though, he gleefully did it again.
"That is one hyperactive kid," said Armand.
"He's cute."
"I guess. Come on, we're here." He turned to the mound. "Richsoil?"
There was a low, soft, rumbling. "Are you the two that Rocky spoke of?"
"Yes, we are."
"You have brought bad news with you..." The mound shifted in what appeared to be a sigh. "But then, it is better to know of bad news and be able to prepare for its consequences, than to never hear it until the consequences have manifested themselves." It paused for a moment, thinking.
"Granddaddy!" Shouted Quickling gleefully, having just recovered from his last spin.
The mound shifted again. "Ahh, there you are, Quickling. What have you been up to?"
"I've been walking with these strangers. They're funny! The taller one told me to walk around in really small circles, smaller and smaller and faster and faster and then when I stopped I got this weird feeling like the world was still moving around me and it was fun!"

[getting bored with this... they talk to Richsoil and find out more about what's going on and get their supplies added to and they go off and Quickling follows them. end chapter.]

Etude 17: the also unnamed

2004-11-26T06:40:00.000+08:00

So, um, yeah. Couldn't think of a name for this one either. And, um, it's kinda weird and doesn't make a lot of sense. But it's NaNo, so it's okay. :D

     The rest of the day managed to pass relatively quickly. Rocky insisted that Armand tell him more stories about their world, and they both asked Rocky to tell them the stories he'd heard from travellers. They also went through the rest of the things that travellers had been left behind, and managed to come up with enough for some rather barebones travelling packs. Someone had also left the set for some sort of game. It looked a little like chess, except with stranger pieces, which moved differently. Rocky explained the rules to them, and they had a go at it. They were both abysmal, but it was very relaxing to worry about something other than life-threatening dangers. It was nearly dusk when the visitor arrived at Rocky's mouth.

     "Hello in there!" The voice was definitely female, and it sounded slightly familiar.

     "Um, who is it?" Sarah called back.

     "It's Rosemary! I'm glad I've managed to find you two!"

     "Rosemary? But..." Sarah turned to Armand. "Didn't Rocky say that she was the Starlight Traitor?"

     "Yeah. Rocky, can you close your mouth?" But the rumbling of his movement had already begun, and the opening to the outside closed.

     "That is a very dangerous person outside," he said.

     "Yes, you've warned us."

     "Can she hurt you," asked Sarah.

     "I doubt it. I am very old among the Mound Folk, after all, and very difficult to affect."

     "Oh, good." Sarah breathed a sigh of relief.

     "Armand? Sarah? The Mound has closed its mouth and I can't get in."

     "Where have you been? Why did you disappear?"

     "It was not my doing! I rested for only a moment, and then when I awoke, you were gone. I have been searching the Mounds for you since."

     "Is she telling the truth?"

     There was a moment of humming, and then Rocky answered. "She has indeed been wandering among my kin, but she has not talked to any of them."

     "What are we going to do? She's not just going to go away," said Armand.

     "Maybe she will if we wait long enough?"

     "She waited a very long time in the cave... She probably has a lot of patience."

     "Oh yeah."

     Rosemary's voice came drifting in again. "What are you two doing in there?"

     "Should we tell her we know who she is now?" Asked Armand.

     "I don't know..."

     "Wait... She's the one who suggested that we ask the Mound Folk for help. And she should have known that any of them would know about her and what she is, and would probably have told us. So... What's she doing now?"

     "There is something disturbing occuring outside. I have not the senses to accurately perceive it, but I believe there is a raising of some great magic."

     "Something going on outside... Wait, what if she wanted us to hole up in here so she could do something to the Mound as a whole?"

     The walls began to vibrate. "There is something terribly amiss," said Rocky.

     "What's happening to you?"

     "I think... What is happening? I am being uprooted!"

     "Uprooted?!"

     "No, I cannot allow this to happen. I am sorry my friends, but I most protect you..." And the walls began closing in around them, and the floor shifted under their feet.

     "What are you doing?"

     "I cannot act and keep you safe with you so close to the surface. I am moving you further into my body." With a horrible grinding sound, the floor moved more quickly, and the ceiling began to come down on them.

     "Oh my god, we're begin swallowed," said Sarah.

     Armand gulped and looked up. "Rocky?"

     There was no response from Rocky, which was worrying. A piercing hum was being emitted from the walls.

     "How is she uprooting you? Is there anything we can do?" Asked Armand

     There was still no response. "We have to do something!" Said Sarah.

     "I can't tell what's going on outside."

     "Neither can I."

     "Wait... Maybe if I can contact him again, like I did the first time, I can help somehow."

     "That might work. I don't know how long I can keep you slowed down, though..."

     "I know."

     "I'll do my best."

     "And I'll do mine." He leaned against one of the walls that had stopped moving, and closed his eyes. He tried to breathe slowly and deeply and push the thoughts of danger from his mind. More quickly now, he was able to sense the living pulse of the rock. It was much faster than it had been the first time he'd tried to contact it. Of course, he's awake now. "I don't think you have to slow me down, Sarah."

     "Good. But... Do we have enough time to do this?"

     "I hope so." He closed his eyes again, and reached for the pulse. Soon there was an answering sensation of fire within, and he touched Rocky's mind.

     Sarah stared at Armand, who was lying, apparently unconscious, against the rock. "I wish I could do something other than sit here uselessly..." She looked around. "I wish I knew what was going on outside. Bleah." She leaned back against the opposite wall. "I need to do something... This is driving me nuts." She got up and started pacing, trying not to disturb Armand. She checked his breathing; it was still going, although it was rather shallow. "At least I don't have to worry about him dying on me." She had a sudden temptation to kick the wall, but that wouldn't be good for Rocky. "I have to do something!" She shouted. Finally, she stopped pacing and hunkered down beside Armand, then stuck her tongue out at him. "Nyeah!" She shook herself and sat back down. Suddenly, there was a sound of rock grating on rock. She began to hear a howling wind outside, where before she hadn't heard anything. Armand was still working on whatever he was doing, but she was beginning to doubt that they would have enough time to complete it.

     Time... We need time. We don't have it. Wait, I can give them enough time... At least I think I can... Damn it, I wish I knew how I did this! She closed her eyes and concentrated, trying to build up the tension that she now knew was the prelude to her manipulations of time. Nothing happened. It eluded her. She couldn't quite remember how she'd managed to do it last time... I don't think I did anything special. I never do anything special, it just happens... How do I do it? She squeezed her eyes shut and tried again. Still no results. The howling of the wind outside grew louder, and she was afraid it was growing closer. She had a sudden intimation of danger, and the walls around her seemed to be closing in. I am not claustrophobic, I am not claustrophobic... The Weeping Cave didn't bother me, so this shouldn't bother me either... "Eeek!" She let out the exclamation as she felt the wall move. "Damn it, I am not going to take this quietly! I am not going to sit here and be helpless and useless! I will not!" And as her anger built, she felt the tension rise, coiling like a spring within her, and then she released it. And the howling of the wind stopped.

     Through Rocky's awareness, Armand felt the stirrings of enchantment around the Mound. There was the feel of a great, unnatural wind blowing, threatening to wear them away to nothing and blast open the Mound. He began speaking to the rock of Rocky's body, felt its inner fire begin to awaken and flow, coursing through Rocky's veins of stone.

     "Yes, excellent, Armand. Thank you."

     "You're welcome." The fire leaped within the Mound, and everywhere the ancient stone stirred to life.

     "Amazing... I think I may be able to move again."

     "Away from here?"

     "Probably." A pause. "No!"

     "What is it?"

     "The spells of unbinding... The wind comes from their weaving. If they are completed, I will become dust. And I think they will be completed soon. We need more time..."

     "Sarah should be able to do that."

     "Of course... But we cannot communicate with her while our awarenesses are turned inwards like this..."

     "I think... I think she'll manage to do the right thing."

     And the howling of the wind stopped.

     [stuff about how they got away]

     "Armand?"

     "How are you feeling, Sarah?"

     "My head huuurts..."

     He made a sympathetic sound. "Thanks for doing that thing with time. Rocky said that someone was casting the spells of unbinding, and if they'd had time to complete them, he'd have been turned to dust."

     "I'm glad I could do something." She smiled at him weakly, then winced as a spear of pain shot through her head. "Owww..."

     Armand handed her a root. "Rocky says this should help you with your headache, but it's very bitter."

     She took it. "Like most medicine." She bit into it, and screwed up her face in an expression of disgust. "Definitely bitter. Uggh! How much of this do I have to eat?"

     "Just a few mouthfuls, I think."

     "So what did you two manage to do?"

     "Run away, pretty much. Rosemary managed to partly uproot Rocky, and then what I did restored his ability to move. Just not very quickly, since he is a pretty big hill. So when you sped us up, it gave us time to escape."

     "So where are we now?"

     "In the birthplace of the Mound Folk. The Living Hills are kinda like the elephant graveyard, I think. Only the old-timers go there."

     "Ahh." She bit into the root again, chewing with distaste. "How fast does this work?"

     "I don't know. Rocky's kind of tired since he hasn't moved anywhere in a long time."

     "Well, at least we did it."

     "Yeah." He smiled at her. "Both of us together."

     "We're safe now, right?"

     "Pretty much, yeah."

     "Good. I think I'm going to sleep... My head is still pounding. You should probably sleep too, if your reaction is anything like it was last time."

     "I was about to, but I wanted to check on you and give you the root."

     "Thanks. Good night."

     He walked over to his bed. "Good night."

Etude 16: Adagio Calmato

2004-11-26T06:12:00.000+08:00

Yay, more stuff. Don't ask me why an entire race seems to exist for the sole purpose of hosting travellers. It seemed like a good idea at the time. As did the name "Rocky". >_>

     Armand wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but it wasn't what he saw. Inside the mouth was a cozy-looking cave with moss carpeting the floor and phospherescent fungus lighting the walls. There seemed to be several depressions in the sides of the cave which he realized were beds. He led Sarah over to one of them, and she sank into the soft moss gratefully.

     "If being a nexus means I get these headaches all the time, I want to give it up."

     "Well, trying to awaken things makes me dizzy."

     "I guess we're even then." She lay back her head, then stretched. "Aaahhh, that feels good."

     "I'll go see about some food." He turned away and walked towards the center of the room. "Rocky?"

     "Is everything good in there?" The Mound Person's voice echoed from the walls.

     "Can I get some food?"

     "Oh, yes, of course." The walls shifted around, and another opening appeared. "Go in there. You should be able to recognize what's edible."

     "Thanks." Armand headed for the opening, which led into a smaller cavern. There were various plants growing inside it, and most of them were indeed edible. He recognized a few from Seraiel's lectures on the subject. Sarah probably would recognize more, but for now there was enough for a quick meal. He gathered some leaves and berries, then dug up a tuber and went back to the main room. He picked another of the beds and sat down on it, and started munching. He would have liked to cook the things, or at least heat them up a bit, but he remembered Rosemary's warning about the Mound Folk and fires. I wonder where Rosemary is... Did something happen to her? Or did she abandon us? I wish I knew... Well, at least her advice about the Mound Folk turned out okay. I'm glad Sarah and I were able to work together to talk to Rocky. He stared at the walls, absently munching on the tuber. It was crisp and somewhat turnip-like, but with a slightly spicier flavor. It also seemed a little saltier than a turnip, and not as sweet. He swallowed the last of it and started on the berries. I wish I knew where the Sword of Peace was... I don't want to know what the debt payment for it would have to be if I can't find it again to return the Spring Flower. The berries were surprisingly sweet, much sweeter than he'd expected. They had the tang of strawberries, but were filled with little seeds like raspberries. They were also bright blue-green. At least the food is good... I really do feel much better now that I've eaten. I guess I hadn't realized how hungry I was. I'll bet anything would taste good to me right about now. Finally, he sucked the juice from his fingers and lay back in the bed of moss.

     "Rocky?"

     "Yes?"

     "Thank you very much."

     "You are welcome. I can tell you are tired now, but tomorrow you can tell me all about your travels."

     "Sounds fair. Good night." And he closed his eyes, and fell asleep.

     Sarah woke up confused. She was in a softly glowing place on what felt like a soft bed. After a little while blearily blinking around and rubbing her eyes, she remembered where she was. We're in a cave of some sort... Oh yeah. It's that Mound Person's insides. What's the name? Rocky. She sat up and stretched her legs, then tried to touch her toes. Still can't do it. Oh well. I'm hungry though... It's been a while since I last ate. She looked around. Armand was in the niche next to hers, and he'd left some plants in front of her niche. She recognized them from her time with Seraiel. She happily picked them and started nibbling away. She'd never had the tuber raw before, but she remembered liking the way Seraiel cooked it. He'd baked it under the sun with a sauce made of crushed herb seeds and a touch of honey. The thought made her mouth water. The tuber tasted good anyway. It's been forever since I last ate... Mmmm, yummy. She started taking bigger bites. Before she realized it, the tuber was gone, so she started nibbling the greens. I remember these ones. Seraiel said they're often used as flavorings, but the leaves can be eaten alone. She bit into the stalks, working her way up to the leaves. They were a little more bitter than she would have liked, but not too bad. They were a little like one of those greens that end up in Chinese food sometimes... She chewed thoughtfully. Well, at least we have a safe haven for now. And I guess we try to find the Eyes of the Whirlwind again after this... I wish I knew what we were in for. She felt more refreshed than she had in days. Of course, I've slept an awful lot recently... Even if some of it was being trapped in dreams and most of it was due to exhaustion. Finally, she got to the berries, which had been her favourites. "Mmm, dewy berries." She happily popped them into her mouth. The juice spilled out the sides, and she wiped it away quickly with a hand before it stained her clothes. After a bit, she lay back happily. I like it here. It feels safe, like the Butterfly Realm did. I wonder how they're doing... I hope Lysshander is still okay. After a bit, she got up and started walking around the area. There were only two openings that she could see. One led outside, and the other led to a smaller room with plants in it. She could see the marks of fresh digging. This must be where Armand got the stuff. I need to remember to thank him when he wakes up. She glanced back at him. Why do I have the feeling that he's not used to getting thanked for anything? She shook her head and walked back to the center of the room.

     "Rocky?"

     "Yes?"

     "Thanks for the food."

     "You are most welcome. Was there something else you needed?"

     "Oh. Yeah. Umm... Is there somewhere I can, um, perform the necessary functions?"

     "Ahh, of course." The walls rumbled a little bit, and another opening appeared. "In there. Do not worry about poisoning me; it will go to fertilize the food plants in the other chamber."

     "Thank you!" She walked to the new opening. Inside she saw what were recognizably sanitary facilities, even if somewhat strangely organic looking. With relief, she used them, and saw that there was water running through a passage and into the hole, washing it out. She rinsedher hands in it, then took a sip. It tasted fine, so she took a longer drink, then splashed her face. Finally, refreshed, she went back to the first room.

     "Was that satisfactory?"

     "Yes it was, thank you so much." She settled back into her bed comfortably.

     "I have something to ask you..."

     "What is it?"

     "Could you be so kind as to tell me the story of your travels?"

     "Oh! Of course. That's no problem. You see, we're newcomers to Farelle... There was some complicated stuff mixed up with Armand getting possessed and we ended up here somehow."

     "Outsiders? Oh, most, most interesting! I have only met outsiders once in my life... They are very rare now, although my father said that they used to be more common. Do tell me about your own world."

     So, to pass the time, and because Rocky was really rather pleasant company, Sarah did.

     "It seems your companion is stirring."

     Sarah peeked at Armand's bed. "Yeah. Hey, Armand."

     He yawned and stretched. "Hello."

     "I was telling Rocky about our world."

     "Oh, good. He said that was the kind of thing he wanted in exchange for hospitality."

     "Sarah has been a most entertaining storyteller," said Rocky gently.

     "Good." He yawned again. "Umm, is there anywhere I can --"

     "Over there," said Sarah, and she pointed. "There's a bit of a tunnel and a bend so I won't be able to see you."

     "Thanks." He scrambled out of the niche and headed for the comfort room. After a short time, he came back with his hair dripping wet. "Ahhh."

     "Thanks for getting food for me last night."

     "Oh. You're welcome." He looked a little surprised.

     "I picked some breakfast-y things for you." She held up some more berries and some sort of bulb, then handed them to him. "Here. Seraiel uses these in salads sometimes, and for ill people in broth."

     "So I'm ill?"

     "No, it's just particularly nutritious. I had some myself."

     He smiled a little bit, and then bit into the bulb. "Yikes! Why didn't you warn me it was spicy?"

     "Oh yeah. Um, I forgot?" She looked a bit sheepish.

     "It's okay. Just... surprising." He continued eating the bulb, a little more gingerly. "This is so going to give me bad breath."

     Sarah laughed. "Well, you and me both. But we need the vitamins and minerals."

     "Fine." He took a seat next to her. "So what are we going to do next?"

     "Continue looking for the Eyes of the Whirlwind, I guess."

     Armand gestured with the bulb. "We'll need to find some way of carrying supplies with us... And we should really try to get our stuff back."

     Sarah nodded. "Yeah, there was a lot of stuff in the packs that would be really useful."

     "Not just that..." Armand bit into the bulb and swallowed hard. "We need the Sword of Peace back. Really need it."

     "Why?"

     "Because it wasn't given to me as a gift."

     "What?"

     "It's a loan from the Spring Flower. She said that she thought its usefulness would outweigh the dangers of debt."

     Rocky rumbled. "You are the bearer of the Sword of Peace?"

     "Yes. Or at least I was until I lost it."

     "The Sword of Peace is never given outright. It is kept safe by the Butterfly People for the times when it is needed, and then it is lent to the proper bearer."

     "Ahh. So that's why. Still doesn't help much now."

     "Has the sword acknowledged you as its bearer?"

     "Yes. It was talking to me."

     Sarah turned to Armand in surprise. "It talked?"

     "Only to me. And not out loud."

     "If you were able to forge such a bond with it, then you should be able to find the sword."

     "How?"

     "You should have a sense of which way to go to reach it."

     "I should?" Armand sounded skeptical.

     "It grows fainter the further away you are... You may be very far from it indeed. You will need to meditate and clear your mind in order to sense the pull."

     Armand sighed. "Well, at least that gives us something to do."

     "Rocky, what about the Eyes of the Whirlwind?"

     "They may be nearby. The realm of my folk often opens into the Wailing Desert, which is where the Eyes of the Whirlwind are found."

     "If they don't connect to the desert, then where do they go?"

     "They may connect to the Vale of Tears instead, and down the River of Memories. Following it, you could seen reach the Forest of Wishing and the realm of the Butterfly People."

     "Well, that's good news. I think," said Sarah. "Thank you very much for sheltering us, Rocky."

     "It has been my pleasure, quick ones. Your world sounds most interesting, although I doubt I would want to visit it."

     "No, you don't want to visit it. You'd probably get shot at or something since you're a talking hill." Sarah shuddered at the thought of the most likely reaction.

     "Well, my days of wandering are long since over, so I doubt I will even try."

     "Days of wandering?" Asked Armand.

     "Oh, yes, when I was but a little mound I would wander over Farelle. The Mound Folk are welcomed almost everywhere, for we can purify things of toxins and make them safe."

     "Was it fun?"

     "Most certainly. I do not regret that I can no longer wander, though. I am much older now, and larger, and it is simply too tiring for me to move. I am happy with the visitors I get, and the dreams that come to me as I sleep."

     "Cool."

     Sarah picked up another large fruit and nibbled on it. "Since you've wandered around... Have you heard of the Weeping Cave?"

     "Yes, I have. It sometimes appears in this area, although it is more often found in the Forest of Winter. It is a dangerous, accursed place. Many have entered it and died."

     "Ahh," said Armand. "The guy we met before... The one I told you about who tricked us about his hospitality. He tied us up in there."

     "Oh? And you have managed to escape from it, I see. That is something I have never heard of happening before."

     "We stopped the cave from weeping."

     "What?"

     "There was a girl inside -- she said she'd been imprisoned there because she'd betrayed her husband --"

     "You spoke to the Starlight Traitor?"

     "The what?"

     "She was one of the most dangerous of the old races. She did indeed betray her husband... And then she betrayed her entire race afterwards in his name. For that she was imprisoned in the Weeping Cave."

     "Um... Not anymore." Armand sounded sheepish.

     "What?!"

     "Um, that's how we got out of the cave. We were tied to the rock right next to her, and, um, when I freed us I free her as well."

     The walls rumbled warningly. "That is very bad news... I shall have to tell my kin of this."

     "Sorry."

     "It was not your fault... Raminas was known for her trickery and cunning. She probably convinced you that she was an innocent, and since you are a stranger to Farelle, you would not know differently."

     "Yeah, that was about right. She was crying all the time and seemed so useless."

     "That was how she managed to trick the elders of her race."

     "Great."

     Sarah patted Armand's shoulder. "Well, there's not really anything we can do about it now."

     Armand sighed. "I can't think of anything." He stood up and walked towards the entrance of the cave, then stopped and walked back. "I guess we can at least look for the Sword of Peace."

     Sarah shrugged. "Sounds good to me. She looked up at the ceiling. Thank you so much, Rocky."

     "It was my pleasure, young ones. However, you may wish to wait a little before you leave."

     "Huh? Why?"

     "I have called for a gathering of the Mound Folk. You have brought me serious news which must be discussed. And you may be able to convince one of the younger Mound Folk to accompany you in your search."

     "Oh, that's a good idea," said Sarah.

     "How long will we have to wait?"

     "Perhaps a few days. We do not move very quickly, as you might expect."

     "Uhh, yeah. Is it okay if we stay here then?"

     "But of course! I would not expect you to leave."

     "Thanks."

     "Now, Sarah only told me about how you managed to get to the Butterfly Realm, and how you left it. What have you two done since then?"

     "Well, we were walking through the forest, and we got attacked by some wolves..." Armand quickly sketched in the details of their travels through the Forest of Seasons, ending when they met Abenath and followed him to his cottage.

     "Something in your description of Abenath seems familiar. You say his cottage appeared larger inside than outside?"

     "Yeah. It was weird. And the door on the inside was different, too."

     "When he took you through the door of the cottage, he may also have transported you to a different place... Perhaps his real home. Hmmm." The rocks hummed deeply as Rocky thought. "I do not remember hearing that the Weeping Cave had a keeper."

     "Weird. Anyway, Abenath offered us food but without the proper oath of guesting. He kept saying that it 'would be okay'. I didn't eat. Sarah did --" He glared at her.

     "I was hungry and he seemed nice!" Armand shrugged.

     "And then when I tried to open the door to get out, something shocked me and I fell. Then he said something about Sarah having eaten prickle berries and then he sprinkled some sort of powder on me and I blacked out."

     "Prickle berries are used, rarely, in medicinal preparations. They can cause dizziness in unconsciousness in great quantities, but also act to relieve pain. However, most healers feel that the risks outweigh the benefits."

     "But he made them into jam," protested Sarah.

     "Yes, that is how they are usually used. Not jam as such, but a preserved form, mixed with sugar to hide the bitterness."

     "Great."

     "As I said, it is rarely used. This Abenath must have been a serious practicioner of the medical arts."

     "Ahh." After that, there didn't seem to be anything more to say. Sarah went into the other room and apparently managed to bathe herself in some way, because she came back sopping wet.

     "Oooh, it feels good to be clean... Wish I had fresh clothes, though."

     "What did you do?"

     "I splashed the water on myself until I was thoroughly wet. I managed to get my hair under the spout." She made a show of wringing it dry.

     "I may have some clothing and other supplies left by previous travellers," said Rocky gently.

     "Really? That would be great!"

     "Hmmm..." The rocks hummed again, and finally another opening appeared in the walls. "Those are the things I could neither digest nor use."

     Sarah headed for the small opening. Inside were what must have been the left-overs of several centuries of travellers. They were remarkably well-preserved. They were also, obviously, what people must have forgotten or lost in some way. There were various small items, especially coins, that must have rolled away and been lost. There were actually some clothes, most of them in very odd and mismatched styles. She looked around for a while before finding enough to make two sets that were about her size, and some for Armand as well. She ducked out of the cave carrying them. "I found these."

     "Oh, good." He caught the bundle she tossed him, then unrolled it. "Ummm..." He stared at the baggy, bright pink pants and the tunic with ridiculous dots and curlicues all over it.

     "If it makes you feel any better, this was all I could find for me." She held up a skirt that was a nauseating swirl of greens and purples and had long tassels hanging from it. The shirt was tamer in terms of color, but was far, far, too frilly to be taken seriously.

     "Ahh. Umm. I guess you can change in the rest room first."

     She smiled at him. "Thanks." She went off and returned in a fairly short time. The skirt and shirt were both fairly loose and sagged down. She looked like a child who'd dressed in her mother's clothes. She stared down at the clothes, then grinned and twirled around. "So don't I look fabulous?"

     Armand found himself grinning in return. "Oh, definitely. You might even make it into clown school."

     "Clown school! I at least demand admission to clown college!" At that, they both broke down giggling.

     "That really wasn't that funny," she said, still laughing.

     "Yeah, but it's just... On top of everything else..."

     "Yeah." She managed to stop laughing after a while and just sat on the ground, beaming happily. "So do you think you can stand cooperating long enough to get out of here?"

     He looked at her for a long moment, then smiled. "Yeah, I think so." He leaned against the wall for a bit, then sat up straight. "And, hey. I'm sorry about insulting you all those times."

     "Thanks." She stretched her hand out to him. "Partners?"

     "Partners."

Etude 15, as yet unnamed

2004-11-26T06:09:00.000+08:00

So, what I've been doing is writing in 15-minute spurts with short breaks in between. In the interests of not breaking my momentum , I didn't give this chapter a title. (I have to consult my handy-dandy list of musical terms, mull over the choices, and pick the right one, which all takes time when I could be writing more.)

     She had the sudden feeling of falling, and sharp pain, and it snapped her out of the dream. She realized she was tumbling down the rock face, the ropes flying loose around her. Then, suddenly, the rock reached up to catch her, and she landed with a soft thump. Her arms ached from the impact, but she was mostly unhurt. She looked up, in time to see Armand descending slowly from the rock, with Rosemary floating beside him.

     "Armand?"

     "Hrnh?"

     "What happened?"

     "I Awakened the rock."

     "Oh."

     "It was very nice of you to set Rosemary free."

     "It came with the rest of the rocks."

     "But it was still a great kindness on your part, Armand. I did not realize that you were the one Renath had sent..."

     "I don't even know who Renath is." He finished his descent, and dusted off his clothing. "Now, how do we get out of here?"

     "This is the highest point within the cave. It does not so much go down as into a mountain."

     "Great."

     "Um, I'm kind of scared of heights..."

     Armand glared at her. "You would be."

     "Sorry."

     He looked pale, even allowing for the strange light of the star metal. "Are you okay?"

     "I've only just escaped from being drowned to death in a cave. Of course I'm okay."

     "No, it's not that, it's --" Armand stumbled suddenly, and fell, gasping with pain. Sarah could see that he'd hurt his hands somewhere... They were raw and scraped and bleeding, and he'd automatically stopped his fall with them.

     "Your hands!"

     "Rock isn't exactly the softest thing."

     "But --"

     "Just shut up and let's get out of here, okay."

     "Sorry."

     He glared at her and continued onwards, clutching his hands to cushion them.

     Armand didn't want to tell Sarah, but he was feeling really dizzy. He still didn't feel quite as if he were back in his body, which was why he'd tripped. He had a feeling that he was still suffering the after effects of Rosemary's tears. Thankfully, the star metal of her shackles was glowing quite brightly by now. He still wasn't sure what had happened, but he'd manage to awaken... Well, pretty much everything in the area. At least I didn't manage to awaken our clothes. That would have been too embarassing. He shook his head, trying to clear the dizziness.

     "Is something wrong?" It was Rosemary. She looked concerned.

     "Dizzy," he murmured.

     "It was a great awakening you performed there."

     "Yeah. Right."

     "It must have drained you to do something so difficult."

     "Ha, and here I thought this was supposed to be easy."

     "You should rest."

     "I think I've had enough rest, thanks to you."

     "I am sorry."

     "Right. You sound just like Sarah." And he stomped off ahead. At the moment, Sarah seemed like better company than Rosemary, who still did not entirely believe that she was free. At the very least, Sarah was wise enough to keep her mouth shut. And, amazingly, she didn't snicker when he stumbled again, ramming into the side of the cave wall. She just quietly helped him back up. Maybe she's learning...

     It was a long time before they emerged from the cave, and it was not where they had entered. Gone was the forest and the quaint cottage; now they faced an expanse of brown hills that stretched on for miles. In the distance, there seemed to be some black structure with a hint of red.

     "Okay, Rosemary, where are we?"

     "These must be the Living Hills."

     "Living Hills?"

     "Yes. They are not really hills, just the oldest of the Mound Folk who have decided to give up moving around and rest quietly."

     "That's not reassuring."

     "I am sorry, Armand."

     "Yeah, you would be."

     "I think I need to rest and catch my breath," said Sarah. She turned to Rosemary. "Do you know where it's safe to stop for a bit?"

     "It should be quite safe here. The Mound Folk are not terribly picky, and the older they get, the less sensitive they become."

     "Okay. I'm stopping." She sat down. "Ahhh... I never liked caves. I'm really glad to be out of that one."

     "As am I."

     "Well, you were in it a lot longer than I was."

     Armand sat down heavily. He wasn't about to admit it, but he was very glad of the chance to rest. Whatever he'd done had been much more difficult than he thought it had been at first, and he really did feel like sleeping again. Or eating. "Sarah?"

     "Hmm?"

     "Abenath took our packs, didn't he."

     "Oh!" She sat up. "He did! How are we going to survive?"

     "That had our water and food, didn't it. And you've eaten more recently than I have." He glared at Sarah.

     "I'm sorry about what happened back there... I don't know what came over me."

     Armand leaned back. "At least we managed to get okay. So. Rosemary. Any ideas how to get food or water out here?"

     She blinked at him, surprised. "Ask the Mound Folk. They are usually quite kind to travellers, as long as they do not light fires or try to dig into them."

     "But what do they have to eat?" Asked Sarah.

     "And I don't think we have anything to pay them with, either."

     "You are an Awakener and a Nexus. You can easily exchange services for anything, if the Mound Folk do not decide to gift you outright."

     "What about you, Rosemary?"

     "I am a creature of the air. I do not need to eat."

     "Okay. After Sarah's rested up we can go find one of the Mound Folk and ask for help."

     Sarah leaned back again. "Good. I'm hungry." They sat for a while in a rather companionable silence. Eventually, lulled by the peace of the hills and exhausted from their adventures, Sarah and Armand fell asleep.

     "Rethan?"

     "Yes, Raminas?"

     "I have the two of them. They have escaped the Weeping Cave and are in the Living Hills."

     "Good. Very, very good, my dear. You may yet make up for your mistakes."

     Armand awoke from a deep, dreamless sleep. Strangely, he felt more tired than he had when he first lay down. He stood up and started pacing, trying to shake off the sleep. Sarah was still asleep. He realized, after a moment, that Rosemary was nowhere around.

     "Rosemary?" He called out. There was no answer. He started walking around the side of the hill. "Rosemary?" He went back to where Sarah lay, and shook her awake. "Sarah!"

     "Hunh?"

     "Rosemary's gone."

     "Oh." She turned away to go back to sleep. Then her eyes slammed open and she sat up. "Rosemary's gone?"

     "I can't find her, and she won't answer when I call."

     "That doesn't sound like a good thing."

     "No, it's not."

     Sarah started looking around muzzily. "Is this the same hill we were at earlier?"

     Armand said, "Huh?" He started looking around. "The cave entrance isn't here. I can't tell if it's the same hill or not..."

     Sarah frowned. "I don't think it is. There was a rock jutting out that I remember almost tripping on as we were leaving, and it's not here anymore."

     "Great."

     "So... no supplies, no map..."

     "We could try talking to the Mound Folk like Rosemary suggested."

     "I guess."

     Sarah looked at the hill beside them doubtfully. "Do you think this is one of them?"

     "Probably." Armand started circling the hill. "Any ideas how we're going to know how to talk to it?"

     "Hello, Mound Person?" Sarah yelled. There was no response. She shrugged. "I guess not that way."

     Armand looked back at her for a moment, then continued circling the hill. As far as he was concerned, it looked like a perfectly normal hill. "I don't see anything special here."

     "Maybe it's asleep and we need to wake it up."

     "Wake it up?"

     "Yeah." She poked Armand. "So get to it, Awakener." She giggled a little bit.

     He glared at her. "Okay." He sat back down on the ground, and put his palms to the hill. I wish I could remember exactly what I did last time... He tried to blank his mind, feeling for any hint of tingling or vibration. For a while there was nothing. And then, as he relaxed further, he began to feel the faintest hint of movement. He did his best not to rush for it, but to let it grow slowly and fill his awareness. He was aware of the hot sun above and the smell of dried grass, and the rough rock beneath him. Is that a pulse in the rock? After a moment, he confirmed it. It was a pulse, but a very slow one. He reached for it, inwardly, and tried to match his own pulse to it. The tingling sensation grew stronger. He could feel the consciousnes of the rock, the slow patient watching as the centuries rolled past, the flickers of the living things that moved and passed over it. He thought he was able to touch a mind, wake it from its slumbering. But then there was blackness everywhere, and he could no longer feel his body. And then suddenly, he could. It was being shaken. He snapped his eyes open. Sarah was shaking him, looking slightly panicky and worried.

     "You fell over and stopped breathing."

     "Oh. Um. I think I found the Mound Person."

     "Is it awake?"

     "Maybe. I think we move too quickly for it to really notice us... I was trying to match its rhythms to speak to it. I almost had it."

     "You were almost dead."

     "Oh." Armand looked sheepish.

     "But... If it's a matter of being slower... Maybe I can help. Rosemary said that I since I'm a nexus, I can manipulate the flow of time. So maybe I can make you slow enough to communicate with the Mound Person."

     "Hmm." He looked surprised. "That's a good idea."

     "I've never done this before. I'm not sure how."

     "Well, you've managed to stop things without knowing how. That sounds like it should be harder."

     Sarah nodded and swallowed. "I don't know how long I can keep this up."

     "What if you slow both of us down, so that you're only maintaining it for a short time?"

     "I don't know if I can affect two people at once."

     "Okay then. Whatever." He leaned back against the rock again and closed his eyes.

     "I'll try my best," said Sarah nervously. Armand tried to ignore her, tried to reach the same place that he had before where he'd just barely contacted the consciousness of the mound. He felt a sudden tension rising around him, and then it crested. He had a sudden feeling of being mired in a bog, sinking in quicksand. She must have succeeded. Now I have to do this... And probably quickly, too. He tried to breathe evenly and deeply, and felt his awareness of the rock grow. This time he was able to sense the pulse far more quickly, and it was faster as well. Still not as fast as his own, but fast enough. Hopefully. He reached it for it, and felt the spark of contact. He was speaking to one of the Mound Folk.

     "Who disturbs me?"

     "A traveler in need of aid."

     "Ahhh. It has been a very long time since any travellers passed this way. But how are you speaking to me now?"

     "I am an awakener."

     "Ahh, yes, of course. It has been a long time since I communicated with one of the quickling races... A moment." And then the contact was gone, and he felt a shocking rush as he speeded up again. Sarah lay on the ground, apparently exhausted.

     "Sarah?"

     "Nng?"

     "I did it."

     "Nngg."

     "I'll let you rest." He looked back to the hill and saw bits of rock moving around, sliding this way and that. A shower of pebbles fell, shaken loose by the adjustments. He jumped in front of them to protect Sarah. Then the initial tremor was over, and he was facing a large face in the rock.

     "Greetings, travellers."

     "Greetings. Um, what should we call you?"

     "You may call me Rocky." Armand almost laughed at the name.

     "Okay then... Rocky."

     "What kind of aid do you need?"

     "We're lost and have no more food or water."

     "That is certainly a difficult situation. Hmmm..." The rock moved again, and the face acquired a pensive look. "What do you eat?"

     "Eat? Umm... Meat, vegetables, plants..."

     "Ahh, one of those. I was afraid you might be of the Jeweleyes."

     "Jeweleyes?"

     "They look much like you do, but they eat crystals and gemstones." A tremor passed through the rock. "They can be a very nasty folk when they decide on Mound guts for dinner..."

     "Oh."

     "Nnng?" It was Sarah.

     "Is that your companion? It looks ill."

     "She's just tired. I think."

     "Sarah?" He tapped her lightly on the shoulder.

     "Huh?" She blinked awake, looking muzzily at Armand and then at the rock face. "Hello rock person."

     "Greetings, quick one."

     She turned to Armand "So you did it. Yay. I want to go back to sleep." She lay her head back again.

     Armand looked at her a little worriedly. "Oh yeah. Um. Do you know anywhere we can stay for the night that's safe?"

     "Why, inside me, of course."

     "Inside you?"

     "Yes, that's usually why travellers seek us out. You'll just have to remind me not to sneeze."

     "Oh, um, okay." He just sat there for a while, looking at Rocky. "Um, we don't have anything to pay you with, for food or shelter."

     The rock quivered a little, bit a few more pebbles bouncing loose. Armand realized that Rocky was laughing. "No fear, no fear. It has been far too long since I talked to one of the quickling ones. You can tell me what is going on in return for my hospitality." The mouth of the rock face gaped wide open, wide enough for Armand to walk in. "Come in, come in."

     "Are you sure it's safe?"

     "Yes, of course."

     "I... I want your oath. The last time someone offered us hospitality he didn't, and he ended up imprisoning us in the Weeping Cave."

     "Ahhh... Tut, tut, such a bad host. But very well then. I swear by the Lord of the Stars and the Lady of the Moons that you will come to no harm through any action of mine, and that I give to you the guest-right of food and shelter."

     Armand breathed a sigh of relief. The oath was correct to the word. "Thank you." He turned to Sarah and tapped hero n the shoulder again. "Sarah?"

     "Wha?" She sounded a little annoyed.

     "Rocky says we can take shelter inside of him. Why don't you move in so that you're safe?"

     "Oh, okay." She got up slowly. "My head hurts. Uuuugh..."

     Armand reached out to steady her. "This way." Slowly, they made their way into Rocky's mouth.

Etude 14 (continued)

2004-11-26T06:06:00.000+08:00

So... More stuffness, as promised. I used my word processor's publish-to-HTML feature, which means that there's non-breaking spaces for all my tabs and it's no longer valid xhtml. Oh well.

     She seemed to be about to say more, but Armand stopped her. "How will you know that someone's been sent to free you?"

     "There were signs... So many conditions..." She sighed. "It does not matter. I wish only that I might free you in some way, but I am helpless."

     Sarah seemed to be squirming in her bonds, as if trying to reach something. "My pocket..."

     "What about your pocket?"

     "Seraiel gave me something to use. But I can't reach it. I need to break it open..." She struggled against the ropes. "Oww... I think I'm getting rope burns."

     "I am afraid my tears may have caused the ropes about you to swell and bind the knots more tightly."

     "Oh, great." Armand had the strong impulse to kick something, but he was tied down fairly securely. Wait... What am I tied to? "Rosemary, what are we tied to?"

     "There are some crevices in the rock. You seem to be wedged in somehow. I cannot tell."

     "Um, are we the first people that have been here?" Asked Sarah.

     "No, only the most recent. I occasionally see some of them in a similar position to you. But all that is left are the bones down there." She gestured with her head. Armand did his best to look downwards. There were skeletons of all sorts scattered over the bottom of the cave, in various states of decay.

     "That's not promising," he said.

     "I believe that you are the first to wake yourselves from the Dream Mesh, however... None of the others bothered to engage me in conversation."

     "That's still not very reassuring."

     "I am sorry. I used to possess some magic of my own, but I have lost it long since... I cannot help you now."

     "Great." The three of them lapsed into an uneasy silence. Armand's eyes had grown used to the dim light in the cave, and he found himself wondering where it came from. "Rosemary?"

     She sniffled. "Yes?"

     "Where is the light coming from?"

     "Oh. The shackles that bind my body to the rock are made of star metal, which glows with an inner radiance."

     "Is there really no way out of here?"

     "I cannot think of one. I am sorry." She sighed deeply. "Just another failing of mine..."

     "Was it really that bad," asked Sarah.

     "Yes, it was. Rethan was not one who loved easily... I fell in love with him the moment I first saw him, but it was years before I could melt his icy shell. And he trusted me... Trusted me so completely and absolutely, and yet I betrayed that trust." Tears rolled down her cheeks. "I wish that I had never let that creature into our house..."

     "What creature?"

     "It was a shape shifter... I did not know what it was at first, but all the signs were there for the reading. It refused to cross the threshhold until I had invited it in, and there was the strange cold sensation that it brought with it... How was I to know that the harmless old man was Rethan's greatest enemy?"

     "Well, it probably tried very hard to disguise the fact," pointed out Sarah.

     "Yes, but still... And then, even after I had realized what it was, and was about to throw it out, it begged for mercy... It vowed by the Stars and Moons that it would do no harm... I didn't realize that the oaths were not properly said, that it had tricked me again. So it stayed, and when Rethan returned, it was waiting for him." She started sobbing again.

     "That's pretty bad," said Armand.

     "Yes, it was. Rethan was victorious in their confrontation, but it cost him dearly. He was badly injured, and nearly dying... I did my best to heal him, and I gave my magic to restore him to health. But after that... He was not the same. I had betrayed him. At first things seemed to go on as before, but then he grew more and more distant. I tried to make it up to him, to ease the pain in some way. But nothing I did helped. And then, one day, he led me into this cave. He seemed so happy that day. It was almost like old times... But then he ordered the rock to imprison me, and the shackles to bind me, and he gave the conditions for my release." [insert cryptic conditions that armand and sarah fit]

     "How did he control the rock and the shackles?"

     "It was his main talent... To unlock the sleeping potentials inside inanimate objects. He was an Awakener, and a very good one too." She smiled sadly. "He used to awaken flowers for me... Those were so beautiful." She sighed deeply.

     "What is an Awakener?"

     "As I said, someone who has the talent to release the inner strengths of objects. They can be very powerful if they use the right tools. Some magical items are created so that they can only be used by Awakeners..."

     "Like the Sword of Peace?" Armand felt his breath catch for a moment. Was it possible...?

     "Oh, yes, I suppose so. I never really thought about it."

     "How does it work?"

     "I don't know much about the talent, since I do not possess it. Rethan sometimes tried to explain it to me. He said something about speaking to the inner heart of the object..."

     The Sword of Peace always called me "Awakener." Does that mean I can somehow... speak to the ropes and make them release us? If Rethan was able to awaken the rock to imprison her... But what does it mean? I don't know how I do it! I've only tried with magical things... Armand experimentally tested the ropes. The knots were still swollen tight from Rosemary's tears. She's a pretty useless woman... All she can think of to do is cry... That thought made him angry. She's been chained up here for how long, and she's never once tried to break free. She's convinced she deserves it. That's so... that's... Spineless! A freaking jellyfish!

     "Armand, is there something wrong," asked Sarah.

     "No." A little of his annoyance must have crept into his voice, because Sarah looked away quickly and didn't say anything. Armand felt like banging his head against the rock and screaming for it to let him go. He didn't. Damn it, if I could just figure out how to get these things unknotted... And Sarah's just as useless as Rosemary. He glared at Sarah, but her head was turned away from him. He strained again, trying to awaken the ropes or the rock or anything, but failing. And the failing only made him more and more angry.

     "Is something wrong with your friend," asked Rosemary.

     "I don't know. I don't really know anything about him. He's just weird sometimes."

     "Ahh. He seemed most interested in Awakeners..."

     "I guess." Sarah sighed. "The only reason he's tangled up in this mess is because of me..."

     "I am sorry, then."

     "Yeah, I am too. I wish I knew what I was doing... People keep telling me that I'm a nexus, but they won't tell me what it means."

     "A nexus?"

     "Yeah. Do you know?"

     "I know in general terms what a nexus is, but I have no detailed knowledge. They are very rare, and I was never able to meet one."

     "So what's the big deal about being a nexus?"

     "A nexus is a junction of time. Time is very malleable in Farelle, and can be manipulated. Normally it requires a great deal of effort to perform even the least of tasks, but a nexus is by nature able to manipulate time."

     "So I can manipulate time?"

     "If you are a nexus."

     "I only know that I can stop things sometimes..."

     Rosemary seemed awed. "That is a very, very difficult thing for anyone to do. I am surprised you can do it, even so untrained."

     Sarah sighed. "And I don't know where to get training. Everyone seems to be after me. And I just don't know what to do!"

     Rosemary made a sympathetic noise. "It is very hard. Perhaps... Sometimes, answers can be found in the Dream Mesh. What were your experiences like, and how did you manage to wake up?"

     Sarah swallowed. "I was on a raft ride. It was pleasant. We were drifting lazily down a river... A lot of things happened. But eventually, I realized that we weren't actually going anywhere. We looked like we were moving, but we weren't. And everything was hollow. I... I fought my way out, somehow. I don't remember. But it was hard."

     "Then perhaps your problem is that you drift too often. But it is pleasant sometimes, and it is much easier than fighting. Much, much easier... Especially when you know there is no reason to fight. When you know that things are as bad as they can get, and anything you can do will only make things worse. So much easier to just slip away, and let yourself go... Drift with the current and let it take you where it will." The cadence of Rosemary's words lulled Sarah slowly, without her realizing. And then she was asleep, and the dreams started again.

     "Sarah?" There was no response. Armand looked over to Sarah, and saw that she had fallen asleep again. "Sarah!" He looked at Rosemary. "What did you do to her?"

     "Nothing, I swear it."

     "She's dreaming again, isn't she?"

     "Probably. Perhaps she will find her way out again, as she did before."

     "I don't trust you anymore."

     Rosemary sighed. "That seems to happen to me... I suppose I am not entirely trustworthy."

     Armand glared at her. "You're not making this easier."

     "I only told Sarah how it feels to drift along with events, not fighting the current and not caring."

     "That sounds like a load of crap."

     Rosemary shrugged. "It is how I have lived these centuries in this cave. Perhaps you should try it."

     "No."

     "Then I will stay here and await my Rethan's return."

     Armand glared at Rosemary, but her eyes were closed now. Tears still dripped from them; beautiful, crystalline tears that sparkled and glittered in the light of the star metal. He looked at Sarah, who was sleeping peacefully. Neither of them responded to anything he said. In the fidgety silence, he felt himself growing drowsy again. It's those damn tears of hers... I'll bet the Dream Mesh is still trying to get me again. He tried to shake his head to clear it. He was growing more and more tired, and he felt a tugging at the corners of his mind. In desperation, he banged his head against the stone, just hard enough to hurt. The ensuing dizziness cleared his head for a moment, but then the fog returned. I will not give in! He'd fought off the Fallen Ones and their weird mist, and he wasn't about to give in to some useless girl's tears. He struggled against the ropes, trying to free his hands or his feet or any part he could. They refused to budge. Damn it, damn it, damn it... The drowsiness was growing stronger, and the pull felt almost like someone calling his name. He tried to bang his head against the rock again, but it was too hard to lift it... Fog crept in and around him, threatening to engulf him completely. The pull grew stronger and stronger, a rope tied to an anchor that was dragging him down. And then suddenly, clearly, he heard the voice of the Spring Flower calling his name. And he answered, and the fog engulfed him.

     Armand found himself still in the cavern, but he felt a curious detachment from everything. It was somehow much brighter than it had been before, and he could see the sparks crawling and dancing merrily within the rocks and everything else in the cave. They seemed to be trying to escape, as if straining for freedom. He reached out a hand -- he noticed distantly that he was no longer bound, although he could see his body quite clearly -- and touched the rocks. He whispered to them, encouraging them to awaken. And the rocks opened.

Placeholder post

2004-11-25T01:53:00.000+08:00

So, um, I've written a lot. Yeah. And I wrote a bunch yesterday but by the time I finished the Internet had thrown a tantrum and I couldn't upload any of it. Now I have some more stuff, but I'm too lazy to post up the whole thing. Also too sleepy. So this is staying here until I feel like posting stuff, at which point it will up and vanish.

And as a side note, once I'm done with this thing, I'm going to post up some notes about the realm of Farelle and release the bundle under a Creative Commons license of some sort. Because I've always wanted to be able to do that, but didn't have anything I felt like doing it with.

Etude 14: Lento Perdendosi

2004-11-23T04:33:00.000+08:00

Aand the last of the stuff from today. They wake up from the dreams, and are all tied up and stuff. Don't worry, they'll manage to get out of it! Meanwhile I introduce Ms. Plot Exposition here...

Armand woke with an aching head and fragmentary memories of some very long dreams. He opened his eyes and looked around. He felt wet. He heard a gentle sobbing, and he looked up. He saw a beautiful woman, her skin tinged with blue, chained to the rock. Her hands seemed to have melded with the rock itself so that it was impossible for her to leave. She was crying, and he realized that the moisture all over him was her tears. Beside him, tied to the rock, was Sarah. She was still unconscious. He realized that he was also tied down. The Sword of Peace was nowhere to be seen. He struggled against his bonds experimentally. They didn't give, and he realized they must have been tied by someone who really knew what he was doing. He looked up at the woman again. Her eyes weren't swollen from the incessant crying. The tears dripped down her face like crystal drops.
"Why are you crying?" He asked her.
"What?" She seemed surprised, but continued to sob. "How can you not know why I am here?"
"I'm a stranger to this place."
"A stranger... Then you do not know. You cannot possibly know how I loved and found the one I was born to love... And then, through my own mistakes, I betrayed him. In his anger, he imprisoned me here. I will stay here forever. I cry because I betrayed him... I know I deserve this punishment, but I cannot let out of mind the thought of how much hurt I dealt him."

...

"That's pretty harsh."
"It is only just." The tears continued to flow. Her voice sounded like it would normally have been melodious, but it had grown hoarse and scratchy from ages of crying.
"Can't I help you in anyway?"
"Only if you know something of the one I love... He is called Rethan. Have you heard of him?"
"No, I have not."
"Then there is nothing you can do..." She seemed to really notice him for the first time. "But why are you here?"
"We got captured by some guy called Abenath who tied us up here. And gave us really weird dreams."
"The dreams were not his doing, they were mine. The tears of any of the Forgotten Folk can be used to enter the Dream Mesh..."
"The Dream Mesh?"
"Yes. It is another part of this land, accessible from all places given the right keys. It is very easy to lose oneself there." She sniffled. "Unfortunately, as one of the Forgotten Folk, I cannot enter it myself. I can only allow others to do so... There is no escape for me."
"Did you see the man who tied us up here?"
"No. I wasn't paying much attention... I was just remembering how happy I was with my Rethan, and what that has come to now."
"Oh. Um." Armand didn't know what to say. He gratefully noticed that Sarah was stirring. "Sarah?"
"Hrrrmm?"
"Sarah, are you awake?"
"I think so. My head hurts. And I'm wet all over."
"My apologies, Sarah."
"What? Who's that?" Sarah's eyes snapped open and she rolled her head upwards to see the woman. "Oh."
"Oh, umm... What should I call you, lady?"
"My name is not important... Not anymore. I suppose you can call me Rosemary. Rosemary for memory..." She leaned back against the rock, tears still streaming from her eyes.
"Sarah, can you get loose from the ropes?"
She tested the ropes. "Nope. Hey, Armand... Did you have some really weird dreams?"
"Yeah."
"What were they like?"
"I don't want to talk about them."
"Oh. Okay."
"Rosemary?"
"Yes, Armand?"
"Have you heard of the Sword of Peace?"
"Yes, of course I have. Why do you wish to know?"
"I was lent the sword recently... But I still don't really know how to use it."
"Ahh." She looked pensive for a moment, and miraculously, the tears paused. "If you are a true wielder of the sword, the sword will reveal everything you need to know."
"That's not helpful."
"The sword is sentient, and it must be awakened to be of use. Otherwise, it is simply a finely balanced sword with a geas."
"Ahh."
"Um, Rosemary?" Sarah asked hesitantly.
"Yes?"
"Why are you here?"
"Because I betrayed my loved one... My dear, dear Rethan... He imprisoned me here, until the day when he sent me someone to free me."

Etude 13: Allegro in Modo Ingannevole

2004-11-23T04:31:00.000+08:00

More stuff! So, um, yeah, the description of Armand's faint is based on, well, my most recent experience with fainting. Including the conviction about dying. (That was not a fun experience when it happened...)
In other news, most of this etude has been harvested from the sporadic dream journal I've kept for a while. I stopped near the end because 1) my 15-minute timer had run out again, and 2) because I felt like I'd spent enough words on these scenes and I wanted to move on.
Random note: "Allegro" seems to be my most popular base tempo for the etudes.

He thought he was dreaming, at first. A chaotic storm of colors and shapes flashed through his mind, never forming into a discernible whole. He could hear a thrumming behind his eyes. He realized that he was lying on the floor, and that something was wrong. He was tempted to slip back into the half-dreaming state, but a sudden intuition told him that if he did, he might die. He tried to open his eyes, but he couldn't control his body enough to open them. He couldn't move. He was acutely aware of how his fingers were curled into fists and his feet were wrenched into an unnatural position. He didn't remember falling. There was a dull, muted roar in his ears, like the sea. The colors continued to flash before his eyes, changing too quickly. They were like the snow on a television set, but quicker and clumped into groups. He couldn't open his eyes.
"Armand!" It was Sarah. "What happened to him? I have to go help him! Abenath, I can't just leave him there --"
"Relax," came Abenath's voice, cool and commanding and almost entirely different from his voice just a few moments ago.
"But --"
"You have eaten of the prickle berry... You should be feeling its effects about now."
"What? I... I don't feel so good... I'm dizzy..."
"And I invoke the right of debt. You have eaten my food without payment, and you have nothing to repay me with." Damn it, that was his intention all along... Why can't I move?
"Now sleep." And he heard the thump of a body hitting the floor. Footsteps came his way, the heavy clump of Abenath's boots. "So you were trying to escape, my cunning one. I think you will find it a little more difficult than that." And then he felt a strange powder sprinkled over him, and there was again only blackness.

...

Sarah woke briefly with the feel of water rushing over her. "What?" She tried to move her head, but was stopped by a throbbing headache. Someone ran a hand through her hair and over her face, cool and soothing, and she slipped back into unconsciousness. She didn't notice the sobbing of the chained siren above her in the cave.

Armand was in a building with cream-colored walls. There were stairs leading up and down and around, and long hallways that didn't stop. He knew he had to get out, somehow. He was dressed in his usual clothes, not the clothes that the Seraiel had given him. The Sword of Peace was nowhere nearby. He picked a random direction, and set off again.

Sarah lazed on a raft that floated down a black river. There were others with her, but she didn't feel the need to look at them. One of them was poling the raft along the river. They were making good time. She didn't know where they were going, but it didn't matter.

Out of the corner of his eye, Armand saw flashes of people. They were chasing him. If he didn't escape, they would catch him. He grabbed hold of a banister as he passed it, then swung himself up onto the staircase and clambered up it, taking the steps by twos. He was not yet out of breath, and he was running faster than he'd ever run before.

"It's time to take a break," said a voice beside Sarah. "Sarah, do you want to take over for me?"
Sarah turned to look at the speaker. It was her best friend. "Sure thing. But I don't know where we're going."
"Wherever the river takes us. Don't worry about it."
"Okay."

There were definitely people running after him. He could see them whenever he looked behind, but he couldn't make out anything distinct about them. Just the impression of people. The stairs seemed to go on forever, and all the landings looked the same. Then, as he was about to pass the next landing, he caught the glimpse of a large open hall past it. He turned around and jumped down the last few steps and started to make for the opening. The corridors opened into a huge cavern, with a tower built of what looked like inflatable plastic. There seemed to be bricks and crevices between the bricks, and windows in it. He had the idea that maybe he could hide in there somehow, hide away from the people who were chasing him... He dashed to the tower, and around it so that it was between him and the people. Then he began climbing it.

Along the way, Sarah met an ostrich at one of the landings along the river. It was taller than she was, and its black feathers gleamed in the sunlight. After a moment, her friend convinced it to come on board, where it laid an egg. "Yes! Food!" Exclaimed her friend. She turned to Sarah. "I think it'll lay one for us every day. We won't need to worry about food anymore for the rest of the trip!" She seemed to notice something. "Here, let me do the poling again. You look tired. Why don't you rest some more?" Sarah just nodded and let go of the pole. The raft continued to drift lazily down the river.

Armand managed to find a hole between two of the bricks, and he squeezed into it. The material of the tower was faintly rubbery, and he worried that it might pop at any moment and collapse underneath him. Inside, the tower resembled a huge bouncy castle, except with more floors and windows. It was a tight fit, and he crouched inside, catching his breath. He hoped that the tower wasn't shaking with his panting and giving his position away. After a moment, he crawled to the hole on the opposite side, and peeped out. He could see the people clearly now. At first glance, they looked like normal people, but out of the corner of his eye, their forms morphed and became long, spindly, and bony. It was as if they were strange aliens in disguise. He suddenly knew that they were trying to make him one of them. And damned if I'll let them, he thought to himself. He just had to hope that they would bypass him and allow him to leave the tower.

Somehow, the raft drifted under the surface of the river. Sarah found that she could still breathe normally. There was thick seaweed above, blocking the view of the surface. A strange, ethereal light filtered down through it, its rays broken by the seaweed clumps. The shadows shifted back and forth in a calm, serene swaying motion. There was a row of stores and restaurants at the bottom. Her friend pulled her along, and whispered something about an errand. And then she was alone, facing a small pizza restaurant.

Suddenly, as if a breath of wind had blown them away, the aliens were gone. Armand breathed a sigh of relief, but he waited for a little longer before climbing out of the tower. He could no longer see the corridors that he'd been running through earlier. Now he stood on an open plain, with a gray sky above and flesh-like grass at his feet. There was something familiar about the place, but he couldn't figure out what. A sudden sound made him turn to look behind him, and he saw a mass of the aliens. They were closer than they'd ever been, and he started running again.

Sarah walked into the restaurant. There was a small bar to one side, with a television set suspended over it. It seemed to showing some sort of basketball game. There was one other customer, a blonde-haired man sitting at a table for two. He was reading a newspaper and munching on a slice of pizza. He looked vaguely familiar. Then he raised his head to look at her, and her breath caught in her throat. She recognized his face from movies and television, and from vague dreams in her middle school years. He smiled at her, and beckoned her to sit down with him.

Armand was starting to feel the effects of all the running. His breath caught painfully in his throat, and he had a stitch in his side that refused to go away. He wanted to stop, but he knew he couldn't. The plains had given way to corridors again, this time of plain, unadorned concrete. There were cracks in the walls, and patches where chunks had been ripped off. Some of the aliens seemed to have scattered somehow. At any rate, there seemed to be fewer of them chasing him. He turned a corner and paused for a few tense moments to catch his breath. And then he started running again.

She was back on the raft, and the celebrity she'd recognized had joined them. He seemed charmed by the ostrich. She knew she'd finished her errand, but she couldn't remember what it was. It was so much easier just to drift down the river on the raft, lazing on her back and watching the clouds.

And then there was a crash and a tangle of limbs, and Armand found himself underneath one of the aliens. "No! Get away from me! I don't want to become one of you!" He screamed, but the thing just blinked at him curiously, and then touched his face. He felt his flesh melt away and resculpt itself into some new form, felt the rest of his body rearranging itself. And then the alien was gone, and he was left alone in the endless corridors, sobbing.

The raft turned onto a more violent part

[What I want to happen here: more dream stuff. Armand has to stop fighting and go with the flow. Sarah has to actually fight the dream. Both get out.]

Etude 12, even more continued

2004-11-23T04:27:00.000+08:00

Stuff! This goes right at the end of the previous post. I think Abenath needs a better name that doesn't start with an "A", if only to make it easier to do AutoComplete.

"Yes?" asked the stranger.
"Um, nothing. I just, um, wanted to remind my companion that we still have a very long way to go and shouldn't waste our time or yours."
"But I have not had visitors in a very long time. And I'm certain that both of you need a chance to rest and recuperate from the reaver assault."
"But --" Armand shook himself mentally. "By what name should we call you?"
The stranger smiled. Armand thought his teeth glittered oddly in the wan winter light. "Call me Abenath, and I am at your service." He bowed to Sarah. "And might I have the pleasure of knowing your names?"
Sarah blushed a little bit at the bow. Armand wanted to kick her again, harder. "Um, you can call me Sarah. And my friend is Armand. We're searching for our true names."
"Ahh, and that is why you need to consult the Eyes. A worthy cause, indeed. But the two of you seem somewhat ill-prepared for the ordeal. Perhaps I can be of assistance?"
"Oh, of course! We need a lot of help." Sarah giggled, just a little. Armand felt the urge to kick Sarah grow into an urge to strangle her. Why is she telling this guy everything? We don't know anything about him! He could be lying through his teeth!
"Well then, if you would follow me, I can take you to my humble abode. I do not often have guests, but I do have enough room to accomodate both of you." And Abenath began to lead the way through the forest.

...

Abenath's home was beside a large cave that was continually dripping with water. "That's not plain water in the cave, you know. It's salt-water. And sometimes sighs and wails are heard within the cave, which is how it gets its name." He stopped to open the door of the hut, which had jammed. He kicked it, and it burst open. "Here we are. Modest, but more than adequate." The inside of the hut looked, strangely, as if it was larger than the hut was outside. It was rather cozily appointed, with rugs on the stone floor and lamps burning merrily on the tables and walls. The flames of the lamps were not orange, but a ghostly-looking pale blue. At one end was a large fireplace; this roared with warm, yellow-orange flames. In the center was a table with an arrangement of flowers on it. To Armand, something looked subtly wrong about the flowers, but he couldn't put his finger on why. Abenath ushered both of them inside, then shut the door behind them.
"Come, let me make you something to eat. You must both be quite hungry."
"Oh, yes. I think we missed lunch because of the reavers."
Armand just glared at Sarah. Or maybe she isn't worth kicking... He surreptitiously put a hand to the hilt of the Sword. It wasn't vibrating in warning, but there was a difference in its usually calming thrum. And, when he snuck a glance at it, it seemed to be glowing only faintly. I guess it's still low on energy from everything we've been through today. Meanwhile, Abenath had set up what looked like an English tea. There was a teapot -- clay, but brightly painted with bold flowers -- and cups, and bread, butter and jam.
"Come, come. The bread is fresh-baked today. I have to do it myself, you know. No-one else around here to help me with it."
"That looks really good!" Said Sarah. She was soon seated at the table, piling her plate with slices of bread.
Armand was more hesitant. "Sir, I don't think we can repay you for this food."
"Oh, no matter, no matter. Don't worry about it. I'm always glad to help." Abenath handed a jar to Sarah. "Now this is honey from the flame bees. It's sweet and warm, and there's nothing else like it. That's my last jar. I got it from a friend who keeps flame bees, but he hasn't been by in a while. Probably can't find the place anymore." He grinned at Sarah. She smiled back, and dipped a knife into the jar and spread the honey on her bread. Outside the jar, it seemed to glow and sparkle with a red inner fire. She was lifting it to eat when Armand stopped her. "Wait."
"Huh?" She looked confused.
"I don't think it's safe to do that."
"Of course it's safe! Nothing here is poisoned." As if to prove his point, Abenath spread the honey onto a slice of bread and bit into it heartily. "See? Perfectly all right."
"No, it's not that. Mr. Abenath, we cannot afford to be in debt to you."
"I already told you, don't worry about it."
"Yeah," said Sarah. "He seems nice." And she bit into the bread with gusto. "Mmmm... This is really good!"
Armand stared at her. Then he turned to Abenath and said, "I'm sorry, but I'm not hungry after all."
Abenath shrugged. "It's up to you. But you don't know what you're missing." He turned his attention to Sarah. "Now, try some of this jelly... It's made from prickle berries. Usually they're too sour and bitter to eat, but there's a special process that turns them into the most delicious jelly." Sarah gleefully went through all the spreads that Abenath suggested to her. Armand wandered around the room, refusing to sit at the table. When he thought Abenath wasn't looking, he went back to the door and started examining it. The door on this side looked different than the door that Abenath had opened from the outside. It was made of a different material -- some black wood, polished finely, rather than the rough boards of the previous door. And it was latched, and there was a deadbolt drawn across it. He reached out to open the deadbolt, hoping to get away. There was a sudden spark, and he felt a warning vibration thrum through him, and then darkness reached out to claim him.

Etude 12 (continued)

2004-11-22T04:31:00.000+08:00

Hooray for word wars! (It's a mostly-chatroom thing... Basically, you and a bunch of other people agree on a time limit, and then you all write for that time and see who managed to write the most.)

It was slow going, walking with the sword between. It was hard to navigate the trail, and the narrow spaces between the trees often meant a lot of awkward maneuvering as they tried to get through and still keep hold of the sword. But the sword's blue glow surrounded them, protecting them from the fluttering black shapes around them. The thrumming of the sword was a comfort, somehow, like the purring of a beloved cat. It also served to warn them of when they were heading into more danger. After a while, Armand stopped dead.
"We're closer to the spires, aren't we."
"What?"
"Look over there." He pointed. "The spires of the Shrine of Winter. We're much closer to them than we used to be."
Sarah looked in that direction, slightly confused. "I guess?"
"Damn it!" Armand glared at the fluttering black shapes around them. "They're driving us towards the shrine!"
"Oh... I guess?"
"Well, I'm not going to let them." He yanked at the sword, and changed direction, heading into the thickest clump of the things. The swords gentle thrumming grew to an insistent, sharp vibration that rattled in her teeth.
"Armand, should you be doing that?"
"Damned if I'm going to let them lead me where they want me to go!"
The sword began to whine insistently, high-pitched and rattling. But Armand was storming towards the center of the gathering, and Sarah didn't dare let go of the sword and its protection. "Armand! Wait!"
He paused, finally, and turned to look at her. "If there's somewhere they don't want us to go, then I'm going there." And he continued walking. The blue glow around them seemed to flicker, as if the effort of keeping them shielded from so many of the creatures was beginning to tell on it.
"I think the shield's dying!"
That stopped him cold. He closed his eyes for a moment, holding the blade. Then he opened his eyes again, gritted his teeth, and slid the edge of the blade along his arm. It opened a gash in his arm that dripped blood, red and hot along the blade. As Sarah gaped, the blade seemed to absorb the blood, and the glow grew brighter again. "Come on!" And Armand kept moving towards the creatures. There was no longer any light around them, save the light from the blade and the blade's protection. The things had so encircled them that their black rags blocked out all the light from the sky.

...

"I'm scared, Armand."
He refused to answer, but tried to walk further, into what seemed like a solid mass of the creatures. He stopped suddenly, as if he'd run into a wall. "Damn it!" He tried to kick against it, but the wall slid around the barrier between them, and then re-formed back in its original place. He yanked at the sword, sending Sarah stumbling into him, then held her hand and grabbed hold of the hilt of the sword. "I will not be driven!" He closed his eyes, and then raised the blade to his arm again and let it bite into the flesh. Blood spilled from the wound, into the thirsty blade. Armand seemed to be biting his lip against the pain, but he held the sword up with his other hand -- it wobbled weakly in his off hand -- and then closed his eyes. Sarah felt a sudden tension build up in the air, almost like the times when she managed to somehow freeze things, but different somehow. And then the sword's glow grew brighter and brighter, cycling from a gentle blue to a pure, searing white light. The creatures around them shrieked at the light, and started to swarm away to a safe distance. And somehow the light grew even brighter, brighter still than anything she could have imagined, and the shrieking grew shriller and more piercing. And then the light flared for one last time, and the creatures spat forth one last dying scream. And, blinking from the afterimages, Sarah saw Armand collapse, still holding the sword.

I have to move him somewhere safer, she thought. It's not safe here, those things could come back any minute... But I don't know where we are anymore! She looked up and around. There were trees everywhere, and now there was thick snow on the ground, not just spatterings of frost. I can't see the trail any more! Okay. Try not to panic. He's bleeding. There are first-aid supplies in our packs. I should do something about that first before I try to move him. At least I think that's what I need to do... I wish I remembered more of that first-aid class in sixth grade. She started rummaging through her pack, finally managing to uncover some fine cloth bandages and mugroot. She patted the mugroot over the two cuts, then bandaged them, trying not to tie the bandages too tight and completely cut off circulation. Armand was still unconscious. Wait, isn't there something about not letting people go unconscious after they suffer trauma? Aagh! I can't remember! She finished bandaging him, then tried to wake him. "Armand?" There was no response. She tried to shake him, gently, not wanting to dislodge the bandages or disturb them. "Armand." She thought he groaned slightly in his unconscious state, but there was no other response. And I don't know how to use the sword. And... I don't think I have the guts to cut myself to feed it, or whatever he was doing with his blood. She picked it up, gingerly. It was thrumming gently now, and she thought she detected a sense of self-satisfaction at the way things had gone. She stared at it stupidly for a while, and then put it back down. Does this count as a time of dire need? But what if there's some other time later on that's even more dangerous... I don't want to waste Seraiel's nut on something trivial. She picked up the sword again. Wait, I seem to remember something... I think he gave me the sword when I was suffering from running in the cold, and that made me feel better. Can the sword help heal him? Wait, but it's the reason he's so drained... I don't know! Gah! I wish I knew what to do. Finally, doubtfully, she put the sword back in Armand's hands and closed his fingers around it. Then she tried to arrange him so he was in a slightly more comfortable position. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw the flickers begin again. She shook him, harder. "Armand! Wake up! Armand!" He still didn't respond. "Come on! You have to wake up now! I don't know what to do! They're coming back for us... Please! Wake up! Now! Help!" And she barely felt the rush of tension, the building of the dam and the water breaking against it. And then Armand's outlines blurred nauseatingly, bringing tears to her eyes, and then he was standing up, holding the sword. The tension broke, rushing out of her like water. She swayed, glad she was already kneeling, because she probably would have fallen over if she'd been standing. She looked up at him weakly. "They're coming for us again."
"I know. I don't think I can do that again..." The bandages on his arm were soaked through with blood, and already crusty and clotted. He looked at them, puzzled, and then moved one aside with his other hand. He gasped as the clotted blood tore away from his skin, but beneath that, the skin was clear and undamaged. "What happened?"
"I gave you the sword to heal you... I don't know what happened."
He shook his head. "Come on. I think I know the way back to the road." He held out a hand to her, then thought better of it, and held out the hilt of the sword to her again. She took it, and the blue glow surrounded them again. And they walked off, away from the Winter Shrine.

In a darkened room, beside a huge mirror that seemed to reflect everything in a strangely warped and distorted manner, sat a figure in a black robe. It seemed to have been watching the mirror, pensively, and seen something that pleased it. After a while, it stood, and walked to the mirror again. "Bring them back," it murmured, in a voice icy as the grave.

Armand still felt a little muzzy. He wasn't entirely sure of why he'd acted as he had just a few hours ago, but he'd managed to save them. Somehow. And then Sarah had done something and his wounds had healed over. He didn't dare try to consult the sword now; it was spending too much of its energy and attention on keeping the ward over the two of them. He wished he knew what had happened. He still felt a little weak from the experience, and watched the path carefully to make sure he didn't stumble. He saw the ribcage that Sarah had tripped over, and sighed with relief inwardly. They were at least headed back towards the trail that they'd been following. He kept watching the trail. Sarah seemed to be lost in some private contemplation of her own. So it was Armand who noticed when they encountered the rib cage for the third time.
"Sarah."
"Huh?" She looked startled.

Etude 12: Tempo Commodo

2004-11-21T20:34:00.000+08:00

For organizational purposes, I feel like it's better to start a new blog post for every new chapter, even if I manage to do multiple of them in one day. Here's the start of Etude 12, which continues Etude 11 (duh).
In other news, I should be getting off to dinner, so I'm posting this in the meanwhile. I sooo need to get back on track...

Sarah stood still, barely believing what had happened. The thing that had been lunging for Armand was now clearly visible. It was a gaunt figure in a tattered black robe. Frost traced delicate patterns over it, patterns that seemed to speak to some inner part of her mind and awaken a sense of dread and fear. It was hooded, and she could not see beyond the hood. The sword's vibrations seemed to have stopped, although she felt a faint pulse from it now and then. Strangely, the figure had not fallen as the wolf had when she'd stopped it. She walked hesitantly over to Armand. He was frozen in a gesture of defiance, arms raised to protect himself. She felt a building tension within herself, like water trying to burst through a dam. Her head was beginning to ache and throb. She looked at the sword in her hands. It glowed only faintly now, as if it had spent itself. Maybe if I can figure out how to use the sword, it can protect us. She held the sword up. It wobbled; she wasn't strong enough to bear the weight of it for very long. I don't know how to use this thing! "Sword of Peace, defend us," she said, hesitantly. Nothing happened. For a moment she thought the sword seemed to glow a bit brighter, and she felt it pulse in her hands. But it did nothing else. Maybe I can unfreeze only Armand and he can use the sword... She reached to touch him, but he remained stiff and frozen. The throbbing in her head was growing more painful. It was starting to be hard to breathe. The ltitlest movement sent needles of pain lancing through her head. I can't... Owww... But... On some impulse, she did her best to cram the sword hilt into Armand's open hand. And then the pain washed over her, and she fell into darkness.

...

Sarah opened her eyes muzzily. Her head was no longer pounding, but instead there was a dull, insistent ache. She was surrounded by a bright blue glow. She turned her head slowly, and saw Armand behind her, holding the sword with its point in the ground. There was a ring of cold flame all around them, centered on the sword. The flames danced around them, casting strange shadows, but this time there was something comforting about them. This was the cool blue of serene water, not the ice cold gray of the grave. Armand's eyes were closed, and he seemed to be concentrating on something. She didn't want to interrupt him, so she sat up slowly, massaging her temples. She squinted into the glowing barrier of flames, trying to see past them. She thought she saw the flickering shapes still beyond it, hovering there threateningly.
"You're awake," said Armand. It was a statement, not a question. He hadn't opened his eyes.
"I gave you back the sword."
"I noticed." And then, after a long pause, he said, "Thank you." Finally, he opened his eyes. "Are you recovered enough to move?"
"I'm still a little shaky."
He closed his eyes again, brows furrowed in concentration. "We can maintain the circle a little longer, but it's hard."
She stood slowly to avoid dizziness. Finally, she was upright. She scooped her pack off the ground. Armand was still wearing his. "I think I'm ready."
"Good." He pulled the sword out of the ground, and held it by the blade, then extended the hilt to her. "Hold onto the sword."

Etude 11 (continued)

2004-11-21T20:32:00.000+08:00

So... More stuff! Return of the villain that I'd forgotten I introduced. Also I checked a random adventure site generator and got the result "Shrine of Flame", but I decided "Shrine of Winter" sounded cooler so now I'm running with it. :-D
Oh yeah, and Sarah's reaction to running in the cold at the end of this chapter... That's what happens to me. Yeah, I'm totally not physically fit. ;) And I did exaggerate a bit for purposes of word count. ;)

A figure in long, flowing robes embroidered with glittering sigils turned away from the mirror he had been gazing into. "So they have the Sword of Peace with them... That will be most interesting." The figure looked back into the mirror. "Now, show me what has become of the messenger."

As they continued travelling, the trees lost their leaves and their bare, stark branches dragged against the cold gray sky. The forest seemed to be cloaked in some dark, eternal winter. Only the barest sheen of frost lay on the ground, but it was enough to make the way slippery and unpredictable. The days were colder and longer, and it was often hard to start a fire when they camped for the night.
"Armand?"
"Hmm?"
"I don't think this is a normal winter."
"Duh."
"What does the map say?"
"The map? Oh yeah." He stopped walking, then swung his pack around to rummage through it. He cursed softly as the frozen cords that knotted the pack together refused to budge, but he finally managed to undo them. He pulled the map out, looked for a flat stone nearby, cleared it of frost, and unrolled the map onto the surface. He pointed at a spot in one of the forests on the map. "I think we're around here."
Sarah looked at the map doubtfully. "So we're now in the Forest of Seasons?"
"Well, that makes sense, doesn't it?" He said bitingly.
"Yeah, I guess. Where are we supposed to be going?"
"Well, we got here through the Forest of Wishes, so that means that we're out of the mappable area." He studied the map more closely. Only one corner was filled with a conventional map, and that held the Forest of Wishes that they had left. The rest of the map was filled with blobs of areas which were easily characterized and had distinctive features and landmarks, but which could appear and disappear and move around.
Sarah scrutinized the map. "Hey, there are Shrines here. Maybe we can ask them for help in getting to the Eyes of the Wind."
Armand frowned. "I don't know if that's a good idea. They might not be friendly." And we don't need help yet, either.
"Okay."
He shrugged, rolled up the map, and returned it to his pack. They continued on along the path.

...

As night drew closer, Sarah spotted a series of stone spires jutting out of the trees. "Armand! I'll bet that's one of the shrines in the forest."
He stopped and looked at the spires. He couldn't see them very clearly from this distance, but something about their shape and arrangement made the hair on the back of his neck rise. "Let's avoid them."
"Why?"
"I just don't think it's a good idea."
"Um, okay." She looked at the spires again for a long moment, and then returned her attention to the trail in front of them. But after only a few steps, she thought she saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye. "Armand, did you see that?"
"What?"
"Over there. I thought I saw something..." But there were only bare trees and a spattering of frost.
Armand looked at the area. He seemed to be concentrating on something. "I think there might be something dangerous around here."
"Oh. Um. What should we do?"
He looked at her, exasperated. "Move away from it." He turned to the side and pointed. "That way, I think. There's still a trail through there, and it's in a different direction."
"Okay." She followed his lead. But soon enough, she saw something else flicker past her, just to the side. And something else, a brief glint in the gloom, to the other side. "Armand?"
"What now?"
"I think I saw more of them."
He grumbled, but drew the sword from its scabbard. It shed a cold blue light on their surroundings that only served to heighten the eerie shadows of the bare branches. Sarah caught more flickers to the sides. She spun around to look at them, but they vanished. She thought she caught another flicker, but it was gone. That one had seemed to be shaped like a figure in a tattered cloak, dragging along the ground. Probably just my imagination. I don't want to tell him that I'm getting really scared... I wish I had a flashlight or something. Something that's not the weird gray sunlight or that sword of his.
"Armand?"
"What?" He said, testily.
"I think we should move out of here."
He glared at her, but swung the sword around slowly. Finally, he seemed to find a direction that suited him, and he turned to her. "This way."
She followed, sneaking glances behind her. There were no more flickers. But as she turned to look behind again, she stumbled on something, and fell sprawling to the ground. Armand heard her fall, and turned back to her. She saw his eyes grow wide for a moment.
"I fell."
"Yeah, I noticed." He glared at her with distate again. "But look at what you tripped on."
She turned behind her, and saw a strange white rod portruding from the ground. It twisted and bent an odd angle before entering the ground again. Beside it were other rods, of different sizes. "What is it?"
"Don't you recognize a rib cage?"
"Eeek!" She backed away from it as quickly as she could.
Armand looked unimpressed by her reaction, but he stepped away from it. "I don't think this is a good sign..." Some impulse made him suddenly look up and beyond her. "I think we've stayed here too long. Can you walk?"
Sarah stood, shakily, and tested her weak ankle. Miraculously, she hadn't sprained it, although it still tingled and ached a little from the fall. She nodded. "I think so." She looked behind her. The trees were filled with dark, flickering shapes. Impressions of rags, spikes, and skulls flashed across her vision as she watched them. She started running. Armand was already running from them. She was much slower, and her breath caught painfully in her lungs from the sharp, cold air. She tried to breathe through her mouth, but that only made it worse. She started sputtering and coughing helplessly. She had to stop, leaning against a tree, as the coughing fit continued. Her throat burned with every cough. She started feeling nauseous. The dark shapes were closer now. "Ar --" she was seized by another series of coughs, nearly doubling over. with the violence of them. "Armand!" Dimly, she heard him come up behind her, and then she felt a cool, hard object pressed into her hand. She took it, and realized it was a sword hilt. A distant thrumming came from it, and spread through her body. The ache in her throat and lungs ceased. She looked up in wonder, to see a flutter of rags flash past her and towards Armand. "No!" She screamed, raising the sword. And the world stopped.

Etude 11: Allegro ma non troppo

2004-11-21T06:03:00.000+08:00

So. Long time no writing. *grimace* >___< You may notice that I'm not so great at writing combat. Also this seems like an awfully random encounter (imagines rolling 2d10 and looking up the chart for what monster uses that result). *whistles idly* Dum-de-dum...

As Sarah and Armand pressed on, the forest grew thicker and darker. The trees seemed to lose the aspects of spring time and take on the aspects of autumn instead. Red and orange leaves were strewn across their path, and the branches were a blaze of color. Both had grown more accustomed to sleeping out of doors, and hiking through the day. Armand had still not told Sarah about the sword; he felt it was something she didn't especially need to know. It was the sword that warned him when the attack came. It thrummed at his side, a sharp vibration different from the gentle rhythm he'd become used to. He put his hand to the hilt, and felt a strong sense that danger was approaching them. "Sarah?"
She turned, surprised. "What?"
"There's something dangerous around here, and it's coming closer."
"How would you know? You're just -- eek!" A wolf had come into view. It was entirely black, with huge, sickly yellow eyes. Its red tongue lolled from its mouth, slobbering over long, deadly sharp fangs. It tensed its muscles for a moment, like springs waiting for release, and then sprang at Sarah.

...

"Stop!" She screamed. And the wolf froze in mid-air, dangling there for a moment, before gravity took over and it fell down to the ground. That was enough to break Sarah's hold over it, and it stood up again, whining slightly. It shook its head as if confused, then lunged at Sarah again. And somehow, Armand came between them with the Sword of Peace blazing bright in his hands. The wolf shrieked at the glare and shied away, blinded. It tried to circle around and make for Sarah again, but the sword's glow expanded into a brilliant blue bubble that surrounded the two of them. The wolf dashed at the barrier, but found itself slipping around it. After a few more tries, it backed away, then sat on his haunches and howled mournfully. The sound was piercing, and seemed to invade the ears. And then, as suddenly as it had come, the wolf was gone. Armand waited until the sharp vibrations from the sword relaxed before he sheathed it, dissolving the protective bubble.
"Armand, what was that?!"
He looked at Sarah, looking strangely contemplative. "That was the Sword of Peace. The Spring Flower lent it to me before we left. Meranes gave me the scabbard for it."
"How did you -- what did you -- how..."
"The sword has some amount of awareness, and that's how I can use it. The rest is none of your business."
"Um, okay." Armand started walking. "Wait."
"What is it?" He seemed to be back to his usual grumpy self.
"Thank you for saving me back there."
He shrugged. "It would probably have gone for me next."
"Still, I appreciate it." She paused, trying to dredge up the words. Armand looked at her expectantly, arms crossed. "I'm sorry I laughed at you in the Butterfly Realm. It's just... I thought you looked silly, but I should have kept it to myself, especially after everything that's happened to you because of me. So... I'm sorry."
"I, um. Thanks." He looked for a moment as if he were going to say more, but he just shook his head and kept on walking. Sarah stared after him for a while, confused, and then rushed to follow. I still kind of wish he'd apologize... I guess that's asking too much.

Armand noticed that Sarah was keeping a little distance between them after the encounter with the wolf. That suited him just fine. Why did I save her, anyway? I didn't even really think about it or the consequences... He smiled wryly to himself. And I didn't think my reflexes were that fast. He snuck a glance behind him to see Sarah looking around expectantly. Well, I guess I can try asking the sword. His hand moved downwards to the hilt of the sword and rested there. The faint thrumming was relaxing, and he again felt the slight tingling in his hand. He tried to let his awareness slide into the tingling -- an exercise that was becoming easier to him as he practiced it more often with the sword --and then a blue tint settled over the world, and he felt the sword's presence in his mind.
"You called me, Awakener?"
"Yeah," he muttered under his breath, so that Sarah wouldn't hear.
"You seem troubled."
"Kinda. Yeah."
"What is the matter?"
"I saved that girl and I don't know why. And I did it instinctively, without thinking about it."
"Your motivations are not something I can divine for you. I can tell you, however, that I am at my most effective when defending others."
"Yeah, I figured. It's kinda in character for you and everything."
"I have noticed that your kind fight a great deal even when there is no need to. You, in particular, do this more than the others who have Awakened me."
"You mean starting wars and stuff?"
"No, this is something more personal. I do not think I am at liberty to just tell you what it is."
"What! Why not?" Armand's hand squeezed the hilt.
"Because if I did tell you, I doubt that you would reach peace." And then the blue glow faded from everything, and Armand knew that the sword would tell him nothing more.

Etude 10: Allegretto Ritenuto

2004-11-17T18:05:00.000+08:00

Fun farewell gifts (yay plot vouchers!, and a scene on the road. I got distracted and ran off and did a bunch of other things and then fell asleep before finishing this etude...

Sarah was packing when she heard someone walk in. "Sarah?"
"Oh, hi Seraiel. Is Lysshander any better?"
"No. If anything, she is worse..."
"Oh. I guess I didn't really think it would be any different..."
"That's not what I came to talk to you about, though."
"Huh?"
"Come here."
She turned away from the satchel and walked towards him. "What is it?"
He held out his hand. In it was a single nut. For a moment, it seemed to glitter in the sun's light. "Sarah, I give this gift to you freely and of my own will, as witnessed by the Lord of the Stars and the Lady of the Moons." He pressed it into her hands. "I worry... I am afraid you will need this. Crack it open only in your hour of direst need, and you will find help."
"I -- um -- thank you." She bowed awkwardly; it seemed like the right thing to do. "Thank you very much."
Seraiel smiled at her wanly. "I only hope that you never need to open it." And he left her to the rest of her packing.

...

"You wanted to see me, Flower?" Armand landed gracefully on the blossom.
"Yes, Armand." The Spring Flower looked somewhat harried and tired from the strain of attempting to heal those undergoing the transformation. "Come here. I want to see if your wings have done their work."
He approached her. She motioned for him to kneel, and he did. She held her hands over him, eyes closed, antennae bobbing slightly. After a short while, she opened her eyes. "Yes, I think you are now completely free from the influence of the Fallen Ones." She smiled at him. "That must be good news for you."
"Yes, it is. Does this mean they can't get to me again?"
"It means they can't track you down except by normal means. And now that you know about them, it will be much easier for you to fight them off if they try to take you again."
"That's good enough for me. Thank you, Flower."
"There's one more thing... I have had trouble deciding whether or not to give you this, but I think you will need it." And she drew a glittering sword from the air, sparks swirling around it. It was made entirely of crystal, and seemed to glow with an inner light. She looked strangely sad as she drew it. "I cannot give this to you, Armand. It is not mine to give. I can only lend it to you for a time, and you must bear the burden of the debt while you possess it. I am sorry, but I think that you will need it more than the burden of debt will hinder you." She held it out to him, and he took it, gingerly. It was surprisingly light in his hands, and there seemed to be a faint melody coming from within it.
"How do I use this? I've never used a sword before..."
"Do you remember how you activated your wings?"
"Kind of."
"Try the same thing -- wait, not now. Wait until you are outside our borders. If you try it now, it will likely become confused."
"Okay. Thank you very much."
The Spring Flower smiled again. "It has been wonderful having you as a guest, Armand. I am sorry matters came to this."
"I am too." He turned away for a moment. "Damn it, I'll miss you. You've been nicer to me than I deserve."
She turned him around to face her again. "Then you have too low an opinion of yourself. I have full confidence in you." Then she reached for him, and enfolded him in her arms and wings. For a moment, it felt like that time when he was five, and still the center of his mother's life; that time when he'd come home from school crying because of the mean kids and she'd taken him up in her arms and promised she would always love him. And then the moment passed, and he was standing still on the violet-tinged blossom. It was time to go.

Sarah and Armand left the realm of the Butterfly People reluctantly. Their wings had been returned; the magic that animated them would not work outside the realm. They'd been outfitted with heavier travel clothing, and supplies for the journey. Sarah looked uneasily over at Armand. She'd never quite gotten up the courage to apologize for laughing at him. Although he should really apologize, too. That was really mean of him to call me a pig.
He caught her looking at him. "What are you looking at?" He growled.
"Um, nothing."
"So don't look."
She couldn't think of any reply to that, so she kept walking. To reach the Eyes of the Wind, they first had to get out of the Forest of Wishes. The Forest -- and with it, the realm of the Butterfly People -- was one of the areas of Farelle that was mappable. They were heading in the opposite direction of the Searching Plains, which was the grassy plain they had first arrived in. Somewhere further on, the border became less distinct, and they entered the changing, shifting area that led to the Eyes. That hopefully leads to the Eyes. I don't want to think about what might happen if we get lost.
"Um, Armand?"
"Yeah?"
"Have you been camping before?"
"What, you think I'm a Boy Scout or something?"
"Um, no."
"No, I haven't gone camping. That's why Seraiel gave us those magic tents, remember?"
"Yeah, but I'm still kind of worried..."
He glared at her, and refused to answer. They trudged onwards. Armand seemed determined to sulk, or at least stay grouchy, and Sarah couldn't think of anything to talk about that wouldn't elicit more glares. He also seemed determined not to look at anything other than the path they were on, so Sarah started looking around. The area of the forest they were in looked fairly normal, although she couldn't tell if the trees were the type she could find at home. Home... Strange that I haven't really been homesick. I guess there's not really much to look forward to back there. Homework and more homework, and bad grades no matter how much I try... Hiding all that from my parents so I don't get pointless lectures. She was broken out of her reverie as she tripped on a tree root and nearly fell. She managed to catch herself in time, but she heard Armand snicker. "What's so funny?"
"You. What else would it be?"
She looked at him for a moment longer, and then looked away. "Forget it." She started walking again. I don't really want him around... But the Spring Flower was adamant that we go together. She sighed to herself mentally, so that Armand wouldn't hear it. I hope Lysshander can hold out long enough... I still don't remember much of my dreams, but I remember that much. She was the first and the strongest of the metal butterflies...

[random trail stuff and setting up camp]

Armand looked around cautiously. Their campground seemed to be isolated enough. Sarah was sleeping in her tent, and probably not looking at him. He drew the crystal sword from the scabbard that Meranes had given him. "So I'm supposed to activate this like I did my wings. What was it she said then? Oh yeah. 'Find the tingling feeling and embrace it.' " He settled himself on his sleeping bag, and lay the sword across his lap. He closed his eyes and tried to sense something from the sword. I feel silly. He irritably pushed that thought to the side. After a moment, he thought he could sense a faint thrumming coming from the sword, as if it were in some way alive. With that sensation came the feeling of tingling, and he let himself fall into it.
He was in a warm, bright place, with no borders or walls. He was surrounded by a gentle blue glow, and a feeling of tranquility. "I greet you, Awakener," intoned a mellow, androgynous voice.
"Who are you?"
"Draw me to make peace, and you draw your salvation. Draw me to make war, and you draw your destruction."
"You're the sword!"
"I am the Sword of Peace, and you are the first to Awaken me in many years. As long as your purposes are peaceful, I will help you as I can." And the blue glow faded, leaving Armand rubbing his eyes to clear them of the afterimage. The sword lay in his lap, thrumming contentedly. It felt, strangely, as if it belonged there, and when he grasped the hilt to sheathe it, it fit comfortably in his hand. He ended up not sheathing it, and fell asleep with the comfort of the thrumming sword beside him.

Etude 9: Lento Pesante

2004-11-15T08:54:00.000+08:00

Second of the two chapters I wrote! Okay, the last line on the intro poem is kinda... bleah. I'll fix it later. :D (The first three lines just came to me, and then I was stuck finding a fourth...)

You make me play these waiting games,
But then you always cheat
And I'm the one to get the blame
Why'd you have to pick me?(bleah!)

All that they could do was wait. It was hard on both Sarah and Armand. Armand had been in fights before, the typical rough and tumble that a reasonably aggressive boy will manage to get into. He'd had stitches at one point, and broken an arm, and had thought he was reasonably used to the sight of blood and bruises. But all of that paled in comparison with the wounds inflicted by those strange wolves. The few of the border guardians who were well enough to talk spoke of them in hushed whispers. "Eyes like the fires of the Fallen Ones." "Jaws dripping with a green, sizzling liquid." "Claws as sharp as crystal knives." And their resistance to all the powers and defenses of the Butterfly People. Nobody knew why they had stopped attacking. It had been as if they had heard some internal signal telling them that they had done enough, and melted back into the fog and darkened woods.
Sarah was not in very good condition. After she had strained to keep Lysshander from bleeding to death, she'd been weak and helpless for the next couple of days, in bed with a splitting migraine headache. And she was even less used to seeing injuries than Armand was. She couldn't bear to see any of the injured except Lysshander, and then only because her concern for her friend outweighed her revulsion at the sight of the injuries.
The Spring Flower was kept busy in her role as main healer of the Butterfly People. Armand saw very little of her, and couldn't blame her. He himself was frequently drafted as an extra pair of hands when tending to the wounded. He was taking a breathing rest, and Sarah was by Lysshander's side, when the first of the changes happened.
Sarah noticed it first in Lysshander. "Armand? Do you think she looks... Grayer than she used to?"
Armand squinted in the dim light of the sick room. "Not really, but I think her wings look different."
Sarah walked to the other side of the pallet, and examined Lysshander's wings. "They are different. They seem... harsher somehow. And a little too shiny."
"Do they feel the same?"
"You mean I should touch her wings?"
Armand walked up to Lysshander, and gently touched one of her wings. "It feels different. It's... smoother, and I think harder. It... It almost feels inorganic. Metallic, even."
"Metallic?" Sarah's eyes widened. "No," she murmured. "It can't be..."
"What is it?"
"My dream... I have to tell the Flower!" And she ran out of the room.

...

It took Sarah a while to track down the Spring Flower, who had been making the rounds of the injured. She finally found her, treating the wounds of one who had lost an arm to the wolves. "Flower?"
"Yes, Sarah?" The Spring Flower looked much older than she had when they had first met, although she still looked very young. There was a certain set to her face, and worry-creases and lines of exhaustion that made her look older. Sarah hadn't noticed before, and for a moment she forgot why she was there.
"Have you noticed the... changes in the wounded?"
"They're not any better."
"No, it's not that. Look at his skin." She pointed to the patient. "It had a grayish, silvery tinge to it. And Armand felt Lysshander's wings and he said they feel a little bit metallic."
The Spring Flower wrinkled her brow in concern, and examined the patient's wings and skin closely. "You're right. There's a change there, subtle but real. I do not think this is a good sign."
"It's not."
"How do you know?"
"Before I came here... To Farelle... I had a dream. I dreamed it several times, different variations of it. Always there was a clearing in a woods, like the clearing where Lysshander found us. And in the clearing were... butterflies."
The Spring Flower concentrated her full gaze on Sarah. "So you dreamed of Farelle, and us, even before you came here."
Sarah nodded, and swallowed around the sudden lump of nervousness in her throat. "In the dream, the butterflies warned me in some way of something coming. It was a great glowing light, so bright it hurt to look at, and it was coming for me. I knew I couldn't let it catch me, I don't know how. And the butterflies... changed after warning me. They became metallic, like machines instead of living creatures. Their wings glowed red, menacingly, and they pursued me just as the light did. I think... I think that is why Lysshander seemed familiar to me. I think she was one of the butterflies."
For a long moment, the Spring Flower said nothing. Then, finally, she spoke. "Find Armand, Meranes, and Seraiel. We must meet at my blossom. I will finish up here."
Sarah bowed to the Flower, and rushed off to tell the others.

Sarah and Armand were the last to reach the blossom where the Spring Flower used to spend most of her time. Meranes and Seraiel were already there, looking worried. "Ah, Sarah!" The Spring Flower greeted them as they came. "Explain your dream to Meranes and Seraiel, if you don't mind."
Sarah looked a little pale, but nodded and repeated what she'd told the Flower.
"It sounds like the work of a Fallen One, then," said Meranes.
"Yes. I know of nothing else that will appear as a menacing light... And that worries me," said the Flower. "The Fallen Ones have not bothered us in ages. And I have never known them to have anything like those wolves."
"Perhaps it is because of Sarah. I saw her stop Lysshander's bleeding by freezing the flow of time around her."
Seraiel looked at Sarah in amazement. "You never told me you did that!"
"Um, I kind of forgot to, and I figured Meranes would have already told you..."
"Yes, it is possible that the Fallen Ones are seeking us out because we harbor a nexus." She looked at Sarah. "That's you, Sarah. Whether or not you know what a nexus is, others will try to control you."
"Then she is dangerous to us," said Meranes.
"Wait a minute, does this mean you're going to throw Sarah and me out?"
The Flower looked at them gravely. "The two of you may need to leave, and not so much for our sake as for yours."
"The Flower is right," said Seraiel. "Although we can recognize the workings of a nexus, none of us know how to teach one. And since the Fallen Ones seem to know that you are here, I doubt we can protect you. I'm sorry, Sarah."
"But where will we go?"
"I have already told Armand to seek the Eyes of the Wind. I think it might be best for you to seek them as well, and ask them your own questions. There is a great deal that is tangled in the lines of the energy where you two are concerned, and only the Eyes have the expertise to help you unravel it."
"You are throwing us out! And we don't know anything about this place... I can barely remember any of my dreams... How are we going to survive?"
Armand put a hand on Sarah's shoulder. "The Flower would not send us away to get rid of us. Don't you trust her that much?"
Sarah looked at Armand, surprised. "I... I think so?"
"Good," said the Flower. "Meranes, can you give these two an idea of what they'll have to pass through in order to get to the Eyes?"
"Of course, Flower."
"And Seraiel, you're in charge of equipping them, of course."
"Yes, Flower."
"Go get ready, then." As Armand turned to leave, she said "Wait."
"Yes?"
"Have you... felt anything recently? Anything resembling the feel of the Fallen Ones?"
"During the attack of the wolves, there was an oppressive feeling... As if at any moment their mist might drop down around me again."
"When the Fallen Ones were about to control you, did you have this same feeling?"
"I don't... Wait. No. The only warning I ever had was when I actually saw the mist."
"So this was actually something different, and the only thing you could relate it to was your fear of the Fallen Ones... That does not bode well."
"What do you think is wrong."
"I do not know, yet... I am afraid I may have to consult an Oracle myself, and I fear leaving my realm in such a time of crisis."
"Can - can I consult an Oracle on your behalf? Since I'm leaving anyway?"
The smile the Flower flashed him was sweeter than any he had ever seen. "I don't want to burden you. It is hard enough to seek the Eyes, but to seek the Star's Mouth as well..."
"What is the Star's Mouth?"
"Another Oracle. It is somewhat easier to reach than the Eyes are, but usually in a completely different direction. And the Mouth is far more capricious than the eyes, for all that its connection to the Stars gives it insight into the workings and well-being of Farelle."
"I want to try."
"Armand... You do not need to do this. If you reach the Eyes of the Wind successfully, what you find may well be enough to set matters right. Do not worry about the Star's Mouth until you have reached the Eyes. If I do indeed need to leave the realm, the other Flowers can be brought out of their sleeps and protect my people. Please, do not try to reach the Mouth."
"I promise I won't try to find the Mouth until I have consulted the Eyes." And why did I offer to do that for her anyway?
She smiled at him again, like the momentary flash of a rainbow in a storm. "Thank you, Armand. And I wish you all the blessings of the Stars and Moons. Now go ready yourself."

Etude 8: Vivace Moderato

2004-11-15T08:49:00.000+08:00

Eeep this is very late... I've spent a lot of the last few days asleep. Also, I finished up an essay that I should have done a very long time ago, eh-heh. Anyways! Double chapters this time to make up for it! And yes, the attack might be just a liiittle bit contrived. It's NaNoWriMo. So nyeah. :P

The days in the realm of the Butterfly People passed slowly, with a strange, dream-like quality. The sun rose and set, and the moons and stars appeared in all their splendour, but the passage of time seemed unhurried and whimsical. Sarah saw very little of Armand; he seemed to spend most of his time with the Spring Flower and with the First of the Butterfly People's guardians. Sarah spent a great deal of time with Lysshander, and with Seraiel, the only professional chef of the Butterfly People.
"Sarah! I think I have succeeded in making something like your chocolate!" Seraiel fluttered over excitedly, holding a pot of brown goop.
"Chocolate? But -- wait -- where'd you find cocoa beans?"
"I thought that the mugroot beans resembled the cocoa beans you described. The result is very good! Nice and sweet, and slightly tingly on the tongue."
"Wait, tingly?"
Seraiel held the pot out to Sarah. "Just try some!"
"Um, okay." She hesitantly reached into the pot and scooped up a little bit on her finger, and then sucked on it. It was sweet and slightly creamy, with a faint smoky, bitter taste. And it did, indeed, tingle on the tongue, somewhat like chili and mint put together. It wasn't chocolate, though. "It's good, but it doesn't taste like chocolate. Sorry."
"That's okay. At least I know it's good! Maybe I can make a soup out of it... Or perhaps stew some sprouts in the mixture and drizzle them over with honey..."
"Um, won't that be a little too sweet?"
Seraiel blinked in confusion. "Too sweet?"
"Oh. Right. I forgot you're butterflies and feed on nectar... Well, um, I'm sure it'll be very interesting."
"You don't like it?" His expression looked pitiful.
"No, I like it, it's just... different than what I expected."
Seraiel still looked disappointed and unhappy. "I'm sorry. I was hoping I could make something that would make you feel better, and I remember you said you liked chocolate..."
"It's okay. Thanks for trying." Not that chocolate would have really helped... Why can't I relax in a place this beautiful and peaceful? I feel bad... Seraiel looks so disappointed...
"Sarah?"
"Hmm?"
"There's something I don't understand. You're a better cook than I am, but you refuse to cook for anyone other than me."
"I'm not that good at cooking. And I was just demonstrating how I learned to do things, since you asked me to."
"Ah, I know! Come with me." He took her hand and pulled her into the air. "You are going to show me how you make chocolate candies."
"But I don't know how!"
He laughed. "Then tell me what they look and taste like, and we'll figure it out!"

...

"Armand?"
"Huh? Oh, hi Meranes."
"You look unusually thoughtful today."
"I just feel... I don't know. Restless. I feel like I should be doing something, not hanging around doing nothing. But the Spring Flower hasn't told me if it's okay to take off my wings yet, and I can't leave with them."
"Have you tried asking the Flower if it's time?"
"Um, no."
"You should. You won't know until you ask."
"I guess."
Meranes stood still suddenly, his antennae waving in the air. "Something is wrong on the borders..."
"Huh? What is it?"
"I don't know. I'm sorry, friend, but I need to see to this."
"It's okay. Go."
Meranes nodded curtly, furled his wings, and disappeared in a shower of glowing sparks. Armand stared at the empty air for a moment, and then a determined look came over his face. He launched himself into the air, seeking out the Spring Flower.

The Spring Flower looked unusually worried when Armand arrived, especially considering she was surrounded by the results of another of Seraiel's concoctions. "Flower?"
"What is it?"
"What's happening on the border? Meranes just left..."
The Flower nodded. "There's something prowling around the edges, but I can't figure out what it is, and it's not being affected by any of our defenses. Lysshander caught sight of it first and raised the alarm." The realm of the Butterfly People did indeed seem to be in a state of alarm -- blossoms all around were furling closed into buds, and everywhere were the tell-tale sparks of the guardians teleporting to their stations.
"Armand, I need to concentrate on my awareness of the borders. Could you go see to Sarah? She was in the cooking area with Seraiel."
"Um, okay."
The Flower smiled at him, the concern leaving her face for a moment. "Remember that the two of you are the only ones from your world here in Farelle." Then she closed her eyes, assuming a "listening" pose, with her hands spread out and her antennae waving. Armand flew over towards the cooking area with serious misgivings. He'd been avoiding Sarah for a reason.
There were pots of brown goop all over the ground-level clearing that Seraiel used for his culinary experiments. Sarah seemed to be trying to make solid lumps out of the goop -- or at least she had been trying to. Right now she was sitting down in the middle of the clearing, staring at one of the pots. Seraiel was nowhere in sight.
"Armand? Everyone's gone into hiding..."
Tell me something that's not obvious. "Yeah, there's something going on in the borders."
"I don't know what to do."
"We're probably safe enough here. The Spring Flower told me to come down here."
"I just can't shake the feeling that something horrible is happening."
"I'm sure it's nothing." Except for the creepy feeling I get and the way I except there to be mist surrounding me every time I turn around... But I'm not about to wimp out in front of her.
Suddenly a shower of sparks appeared off to the side, and solidified into the form of Meranes -- Meranes holding an unconscious Lysshander.
"Lysshander!" Cried Sarah.
"She's been injured by the 'wolves' on the borders. I know Seraiel keeps some medical supplies here."
"I know where they are," said Sarah.
"Then get them."
"I am!" She rushed off to the side, where some pots and jars were kept beneath the shade of a large leaf. "What am I looking for?"
"Mugroot, it should stop the bleeding. Love-lays-dying for the venom. I don't know what else; Seraiel's on the border too taking care of the more serious cases. Stars! We can't do anything to those things... They walk straight through all our illusions and sleep-traps as if they were clouds!"
Sarah busied herself looking through the jars for the ones with right labels. "Wait, I think we're out of mugroot?"
"Out of mugroot!"
"Um, everything in the pots is mugroot. With cream and sugar."
"What?!"
"It was Seraiel's latest experiment..."
"I'm not about to put that on her wound! Find something! She's bleeding so fast..."
Armand impatiently walked over to the jars and found the love-lays-dying, then gave it to Meranes. "Love-lays-dying."
"Thank you, Armand." He looked over at Sarah.
"Don't take it so hard, Sarah."
"But she's my friend! Let me see her!" She rushed to Lysshander's side. "There has to be some way to stop the bleeding..." Stop the bleeding... I've managed to stop things altogether before, like when Armand stirred up the grass.... Can't I do something about this? Stop the bleeding... Stop it... She closed her eyes, her brows furrowed in concentration. I need to stop the bleeding. That's all I need to do. Stop it. The word became a mantra in her mind, and she felt a part of herself uncoil, then wind the world around her into a tight spring. Tension. The air nearly crackled with it, hummed with it. Stop the bleeding. And then she felt the spring let loose, everything channeled into Lysshander's wounds. And the bleeding stopped.
"She's not breathing!"
"But she's not bleeding." That was all Sarah could really think about. The bleeding stopped. She's not bleeding. I did it. My head is starting to ache...
"You... You must be a nexus!"
"I don't know what that is, but I don't think I can keep this up for long!"
Meranes nodded. "Armand, take care of Sarah and Lysshander. I'm going to find something for Lysshander."
Armand turned to Sarah. "Don't talk to me," she said. "I don't think I can concentrate on this for very long..."
He looked at the two of them, Lysshander and Sarah. Lysshander was stopped, frozen, with Sarah bent over her, fists clenched, gritting her teeth, as she concentrated on keeping Lysshander like that. And meanwhile, I'm completely useless. He looked at the jar of love-lays-dying. It was filled with dried, delicate red blossoms. He glanced back at Meranes, who was madly rummaging through the jars. "I thought you could use any leaf to cushion a wound?"
"Mugroot is more than a cushion. It encourages clotting and quicker healing."
"Well, if they've been using the mugroot for cooking, won't any left-overs be out with the other ingredients?"
Meranes looked as if struck by lightning. "Stars! I am a fool..." He rushed to the tables where the cooking ingredients were. "By the Lady, I am a fortunate fool. Mugroot, not much of it, but enough for her wounds. How is Sarah?"
Armand looked at Sarah again. Her face was white with strain, and her entire body was trembling. "Not good. I don't think she's paying attention to anything else."
Meranes had already fluttered back to Lysshander's side. "Tell her she can stop, or interrupt her concentration."
"Sarah?" There was no response. "Sarah, you can stop this." Still no response. Armand glared at her, then tapped her on the shoulder. Her eyes snapped open, startled, and then she crumpled into a heap on the grass. Meranes started applying the herbs to Lysshander, staunching the bleeding with the mugroot, and crumbling the love-lays-dying in his hands and rubbing it on the wounds. He rubbed his forehead with an arm, sweating from the effort he'd been through.
"The love-lays-dying is doing nothing for the venom... It should at least slow its spread through the body, but nothing's happening! I don't know what to do!"
"What if it's a disease and not venom?"
"A disease? Perhaps... But still, there should be some effect. It's as if these things were completely impervious to any of our skills or magic."
"Wait a minute... You said Seraiel was out on the borders treating the more serious cases?"
Meranes nodded. "The wolves have left already. But many of the wounded cannot be moved. The others have been taken inside by their friends and loved ones for treatment."
"Has Seraiel been any more effective in treating the venom?"
"I do not know... Let me ask." He paused in his frantic work to listen quietly, then shook his head. "No, he has found no answer for it, although he has managed to slow and stop the bleeding as well with other herbs. I suppose... I suppose all we can do is wait and hope their bodies can fight off whatever this is."

Etude 7 (continued)

2004-11-11T13:39:00.000+08:00

More fun in the realm of the Butterfly People! Sarah gets to giggle at Armand. Armand gets to insult her back. (Thanks to my friend Jacob for suggesting the insult... I was stuck for a while!)
Meanwhile, I'm liking Armand better than Sarah. I think it's because at the moment, Sarah's kinda spineless and therefore boring. She badly needs some backbone.
Also, this section's 2,218 words. It's the most I've written in a day so far! Wheee!

Sarah looked back at the Spring Flower's blossom. She could just barely make out the shapes of the Flower and Armand standing there, talking to each other. "Lysshander, what are they doing?"
"I don't know." She shrugged. "It's the Flower's business."
"What does the Spring Flower actually do?"
"During the season of Spring, she is ruler of our realm. At all times, she is also the healer and creator. She helps things grow."
"Will she always be a child?"
Lysshander laughed. "No, she will grow up eventually, and another will take her place as Spring Flower. She may or may not take on other duties, depending on her inclinations. Of course, it has only been a few years since the current Spring Flower was chosen. She is still very young, in many ways."
"I like her."
Lysshander smiled. "Yes, we all do." She tugged at Sarah's hand. "Now, your flying lessons."
"Oh. Yeah."
"You already know the basics, instinctively. They are not hard. However, there are some things about flying that you will need to know, and of course you need to be instructed on etiquette."
"Okay."
...

Lysshander spent some time teaching Sarah how to land properly in small spaces, how to quickly change her altitude, and the best ways to carry things. Sarah learned more quickly than she thought she would, so Lysshander decided to teach her some fancy flying maneuvers. Those were more fun than she'd thought they would be. It was a little like the first time she'd ever been on a slide or a merry-go-round -- the rushing, breathless feeling, knowing that you were doing something that felt a little dangerous, but also knowing that you were still safe and would be safe at the end.
"Excellent, Sarah! You move almost as if you were born with wings."
"Thanks, Lysshander. You've been so patient with me." A sudden thought occurred to her. "Oh, but shouldn't you be watching the borders?"
"No, another guardian has taken my place. It is no problem."
"Oh, good. I was worried."
Lysshander smiled, looking more relaxed. "The Spring Flower may look young, but she is old enough to know how to rule properly."
"Yes, of course, I should have known."
"Now, I need to teach you some our etiquette... I'm afraid you will find this less interesting than the flying lessons."
"Etiquette, yuck."
Lysshander smiled at her sympathetically. "Don't worry, there's not very much of it. Well, there is, but you'll be excused from knowing most of it because you're an outsider. Now, the first thing you need to know is how to get permission to land on another's blossom..."
The etiquette lesson continued on for some time. It was indeed less interesting than the flying lesson, but Sarah managed to pay attention and keep it straight in her head. At least I think I have it all straight... Lysshander stopped suddenly and looked away. Sarah followed her gaze and saw Armand fluttering towards them with a magnificent pair of gold and black wings. And they totally clash his with his black leather and spikes look. It was all she could do not to giggle.
Armand made a perfect landing on the edge of the blossom, folded the wings back and walked towards them. He must have noticed something, because he glared at Sarah and said testily, "What are you looking at?"
Sarah couldn't hold it back any longer and started giggling. "You look so funny with wings and black leather!" She giggled some more.
Armand glared at her again. It looked like he was about to punch her again, when he shook his fist and let it drop to his side. "Well, you don't look so hot yourself. I thought butterflies were supposed to be beautiful." He turned around, ready to take off, then looked back. "But putting butterfly wings on a pig doesn't make any difference." With that, he flew off, leaving Sarah to gape at empty air.

Stupid girl. Making fun of me. As if I didn't have enough problems without her getting on my back. He'd flown off without really thinking about it, but he knew he wanted to be somewhere he could be alone. Knowledge trickled through him from some mysterious source, and he headed off towards the east. The exchange with Sarah still irritated him, and he let the wings do most of the work of flying. Damn her! First she gets me into this mess, and when I go to check up on her she has the nerve to laugh at me! What really rankled, though, was the knowledge that Sarah really did look quite pretty in her wings. He squashed that thought and buried it somewhere. He looked around at the place he'd arrived. It was underneath a particularly large bloom, shaded and isolated. The Butterfly People didn't seem to be particularly fond of the areas underneath their flowers, but that was all to his benefit. At least the grass here looks normal. Not that I'm going to try kicking it anyway... This whole expedition has been infuriating from the start. The last thing I want to have to do is depend on some twit like Sarah. And what's this the Spring Flower was blabbing on about me having power? But the memory of the wings coming to life in his hands nudged at him. Even if I do, I have no clue what to do with it. Great, I can make wings flutter. Whoopee. I think it's going to take something a bit stronger to get me out of here... He glared at the stalk of the flower in front him. Bet I can't kick that either. And I can't take off these stupid wings, at least not if I want to get clear of those bastards who get in my mind. He traced little patterns in the ground. At least the Spring Flower talked straight to me -- well, mostly. And I guess Lysshander did, too, even if she was trying to knock me out at first... Damn it, I really want to rip something apart. Destroy something. Hah! The look on that bitch's face when I called her a pig... That was precious. That was good. Teach her to make fun of me. But he still felt restless, looking up at the shade of the blossom. Well, I have wings. I did kind of always want to have wings... I'll just try to ignore the fact that they make me look like a fag. This time, he concentrated on the feeling of straining to catch the air, as he beat his wings and flew upwards. And reached for the sky.

Lysshander eventually told Sarah that it was going to be time for dinner soon, and did Sarah want to join her?
"Oh, yes, definitely! What do you eat?"
"Mostly nectar, and other parts of flowers. Don't worry, I'll make sure there's something more filling for you. We trade with others, and I can easily give you some of what we trade."
"Oh, thank you." Sarah seemed to be thinking for a while. "What, um, what about Armand?"
"I'm sure someone will take care of him."
"You don't like him?"
"He's very... confrontational. A little too aggressive. Too much like a predator, I suppose."
"Oh. Well... I guess... I do feel kind of bad about giggling at him."
Lysshander gave Sarah a cryptic look, then shrugged. "Come, I'll show you to my house."

It was fairly dark when the messenger caught up to Armand. "Sir, Armand? The Spring Flower requests your presence for dinner."
"Oh. Um."
"You my follow me, sir."
"Okay." The messenger led the way to a different blossom than the one on which he'd met the Spring Flower. This one formed a deep cup, with one petal bowed down to form a lip at the edge. It seemed to glow with an internal light, the surfaces of the petals iridescent. The Spring Flower sat at the head of a small table set with delicate-looking dishes.
"Oh! Armand! I thought you'd never get here!"
"Well, um, I'm here."
"Sit down, sit down! I had Seraiel bring some of the things we reserve for visitors, so I hope you'll enjoy them."
Armand sat down gingerly. The chair was backless, but had a little bit of a rise at the back, as if to prevent someone from sliding off backwards. There was something recognizable as a fork beside the plate, although it had only two prongs. There was also a spoon and a knife. He breathed an inward sigh of relief; he wouldn't have to navigate a fancy dinner setting with far too many forks and spoons.
"Oh!" said the Spring Flower. "I offer this food freely and without conditions, under the Lord of the Stars and the Lady of the Moons." She inclined her head towards Armand. "I didn't really need to do that, but it's safer. There will be other times when it's necessary, and there are some foods that you must never eat while you are here."
"Um, thank you."
"Eat, eat! It's very good!" The Flower poured some sparkling liquid from a delicate filigreed pitcher into a vessel in front of her, and then began to sip from it. "Flower nectar," she said, smiling. "I don't think you would enjoy it very much. But try some of the sprouts! They're a new plant that the Rafells brought us just last year. We're hoping to cultivate and trade them."
The sprouts had been prepared in a delicate honey sauce that was only slightly sweet. The sprouts themselves were crisp and light, and tasted a little bit like celery. Armand wasn't generally very fond of vegetables, but these were actually quite good. He said so.
"Yes, Seraiel prides himself on his cooking for outsiders."'
"How did he learn?"
"Whenever outsiders visit, he approaches them and asks questions until they give him answers. It's very funny when he does it." The Flower grinned and sipped more of her nectar.
"What's so funny about it?"
"He's very insistent. And I've been told he has strange ideas of how to cook."
"How does he cook?"
"Mostly by sunlight. We don't like open fires here, since the flowers are susceptible to flame. Mostly, the outsiders look surprised when he starts questioning them about eating meat."
"Ahh. Um. What are those white things?"
"Those are a kind of grain, soaked in water and some herbs and mushrooms. Try them!"
Not seeing any way out of it, he did. It tasted a little like rice, but more piquant. After a while, Armand stopped worrying about what he was eating and settled down to enjoy the meal.
"There was another reason I asked you to join me for dinner."
"What was the first reason?"
"Oh, I forgot to tell you?" She giggled. "Because I didn't think you'd want to eat with Sarah and Lysshander. And because I like you." She beamed at him. She was really cute... He smacked himself mentally for thinking like that. "But anyway. The other reason is that there are some things that you need to know about that Sarah doesn't."
"Like what?"
"I've been thinking about what you can do. And I think you need to find your true name to really free yourself from the Fallen Ones. And to gain full command of your power, whatever it is."
"Oh. But I don't care about this... power. I just want to get out of here."
She nodded. "I know. But you must have business here, or you wouldn't have come, even if you don't know what that business is yourself."
"Oh, great," he muttered under his breath. But he said, "How can I find out what that business is?"
"I think you'll have to visit the Eyes of the Wind, even though I don't like the idea."
"Who -- what are the Eyes of the Wind?"
"They're oracles that live in a vast whirlwind in the desert. All that is ever seen of them are their eyes. They know a great deal, but it can be difficult to get them to answer questions. They're capricious, and not easily won over." The Spring Flower looked very solemn. "Unfortunately, they're the only oracles that would know how to deal with outsiders to Farelle."
"How hard is it to get to them?"
"It may be difficult, it may be easy. Farelle is not like other lands that I have heard of. There are some places that are always fixed, that stay in the same place at all times. They can even be mapped. But there are other areas where the borders are unclear, and reaching them is more a matter of will and wish than it is of navigation. The desert of the Eyes is one of those locations, as are the locations of all the other oracles." She looked straight at Armand. "The oracles can only be reached when the seeker truly needs them, and then only after the seeker has been deemed worthy."
That worried him a little. "Are there other oracles that are easier to reach than the Eyes?"
"Yes, but I think it would do you little good. You need your true name, and only the Eyes of the Wind can help you find it. I'm sorry, Armand."

Etude 7: Andante Tranquillo

2004-11-10T17:40:00.000+08:00

Fun stuff in the realm of the Butterfly People! I'm not ripping off Faerie, really I'm not... Okay, maybe a little bit. I'd like this to have more influence from fairy tales (the old, original kind which were never meant for children) than from Tolkien. I'm throwing in poetry quotations now to help keep up the mood.

This way come; make haste, O fair!
Let your clear eyes gild the air;
Come, and bless us with your sight;
This way, this way, seek delight!
-- John Fletcher, "Song in the Wood"

The sparkling lights faded to reveal a field of gigantic flowers. The flowers were in all sorts of shapes and sizes, with colors ranging from simple reddish-pink to spectacular violet tinged with red and streaked through with orange. Throughout the field other Butterfly People flitted about, some carrying objects that trailed multi-coloured ribbons behind them.
"Where are we?" Asked Sarah in amazement.
"This is the field at the center of our domain. Only those of the Butterfly People have the power to visit here unaided." Lysshander cupped her hands together, and a pale. rosy light glowed between them for a moment. In her hands appeared two identical flowers. She handed one to each of them. "Take these, and wear them on you always. They will mark you as our friends, and allow you to roam freely in our land."
"Thank you," Sarah said. She tucked the blossom over her ear.
"Uh, thanks." Armand looked at the flower doubtfully, then stuffed it in his jacket pocket.
"Come, I will take you to the Spring Flower." She took both their hands, and beat her wings. In a short time, she had lifted them off the ground, and set them down again upon a magnificent pink blossom, coloured like a rosy dawn. In the center of the blossom was a very young woman, barely past childhood, perched on a bed of pollen.
...

"Lysshander!" she squealed excitedly, and rose to meet their guide. She fluttered over and hugged Lysshander. "So these are the strangers?"
"Yes. This one is Sarah, and the other is Armand. I brought them here because Seliari warned me of an approaching wolf."
"Good, good! I love visitors!" She fluttered over to Armand and peered at him. "What a strange thing you have on your face! Does it come off?" Before he could say anything, she tugged at the chain connecting his earring and nose-ring.
"Ow!" He backed away quickly.
"Oh, it's attached... Does it grow like that? How come she doesn't have one?"
"It's, it's not really attached. Or, it, um, it doesn't grow. It's not part of me. It's jewelry."
"How strange! And your hair is so funny." She poked at it, then ran a finger down the shaved streak. Armand found himself blushing furiously.
"Um, I, um..."
"Oh, but how bad of me! I forgot that the two of you are newcomers here. You don't have wings, do you?"
"Um, no..."
"You must borrow some wings then!" She clapped her hands excitedly, and another Butterfly Person flew in to the flower.
"Yes, Flower?"
"These guests need wings!"
"I will get them, Flower."
"So! Tell me, what do you think of our realm so far!"
Lysshander cleared her throat delicately. "Flower?"
"Yes, Lysshander?"
"I believe these two are newcomers to Farelle."
"Oh! Yes, then, they must be warned, certainly."
"Warned?" Sarah asked, worriedly.
"Yes, yes! We don't get visitors very often... There are certain rules that you must follow in Farelle, since you're outsiders. The main, important one, is not to give out your true name."
"But you already know our names."
"No, I don't! Lysshander only told me what you are called, but those are not your true names. Since you're outsiders, you probably don't even know them yourselves, which is probably safest for you."
"It is possible for a very wise, knowledgeable person to study another and learn their true name. However, this is very difficult to do without that person knowing. If you have some measure of power, but do not know your true name, that power will serve to keep it hidden except by the most powerful of magics," said Lysshander.
"Yes! What she said. And of course, Lysshander isn't her true name." The Spring Flower waved her finger at them. "It's not polite to ask, either."
"The other important thing, is that gifts must be repaid with gifts of equal or greater value. You can put off payment for a time, but if you don't return your debt, it will catch up to you!"
"What if we don't want the gift," asked Armand.
"Then don't take it! But sometimes, that might anger the giver, so you have to be careful." At that point, the servant who had been sent for the wings returned with them. "Ahh, here we are! I don't suppose you have anything of equal value to these wings?"
Sarah shook her head. "I don't know what would be of equal value."
The Spring Flower nodded, and took the pair of delicate blue wings. "Sarah, I give these wings to you freely by the Lord of the Stars and the Lady of the Moons, for you to use without debt as long as you are in my realm." Sarah thought she saw a glow sparkle over the wings, and then the Flower handed them to her. "Now these wings are safe for you to use, without you giving me an equal gift. The only condition is that you must return them to me when you leave -- only then will the balance be restored. And if you attempt to leave my realm with these wings, things will go badly for you."
"I -- thank you, Spring Flower." Sarah curtseyed quickly.
The Flower giggled. "Oh, how quaint! But put them on, put them on!"
Sarah examined the wings. They seemed to have straps, like the straps on a backpack, and she slipped her arms through these. She felt a sudden shocking wrench as the wings attached themselves to her back. She felt dizzy for a moment.
"Lysshander, why don't you teach her how to use them? I'd like to talk with the boy alone." The Flower grinned mischievously.
"Yes, Flower." She turned to Sarah. "Take my hand. I will guide you to another blossom where I can teach you better." Sarah gingerly took Lysshander's hand, and then the two fluttered off to a nearby blossom.
The Spring Flower turned to Armand, suddenly serious. "First, your wings." She took the pair of brilliant gold and black wings from the servant, and then dismissed him. "Armand, I give these wings to you freely by the Lord of the Stars and the Lady of the Moons, for you to use without debt as long as you are in my realm."
"Um, thank you." He took the wings from her, and started to put them on.
"Wait, don't put them on yet."
"Huh?"
The Spring Flower walked around him as he stood there, examining him from all angles. "You have traces of the Fallen Ones about you."
"The Fallen Ones?"
She nodded. "They are beings of light. Once they were stars, but they angered the Lord of Stars, and He cast them down. I can sense the light about you, but it is strange... You are not their creature."
"These beings of light... Can they... Can they take over a person's body and use it for their own will?"
The Flower nodded again. "Yes, and it marks the person as one of their own. You bear the traces of their passage, but you are not one of theirs."
"I felt them... They were trying to get Sarah for something. But I fought them. Whenever they tried to take over, I fought them. Sometimes I won. Just before we came... here... One of them took me over. It was chasing Sarah, but somehow I fought it off..."
She studied his face for a while. "Yes, you have some strange power that I do not recognize. The girl, of course, is a nexus. I have never heard of anyone being able to fight off one of the Fallen Ones before." She was silent for a while, considering something. "First, your wings. Hold them in front of you, and close your eyes."
Armand did so, feeling a little bit silly. "Now what?"
"You can feel the weight of the wings in your hands, but there should also be a tingle coming from them."
He nodded. It was like having his hands fall asleep, but more pleasant. "What do I do?"
"Embrace the feeling, and let it fill you."
Armand stood there for a little longer. How the hell do I "embrace" a tingling feeling? He could feel his fingers, numb and alert at the same time. The wings were smooth but a little powdery. Wonder if they'll give off glitter if I shake them?
"You're not doing anything."
"I don't know what to do."
"This is elementary. Let the tingle flow through your arms and into your body."
Hey, tingle, flow, okay? Nothing happened. Hellooo! More nothing happened. Flow, damn it! I am not going to be stymied by a pair of costume wings! Do something! And then he felt the wings pulse with a rich, soothing energy that enveloped him in a comforting coccoon. The aura bathed him for a moment, and then was gone.
The Flower looked pleased. "Power, indeed!" She clapped her hands. "I wish I knew what it was. Now put the wings on."
The wings were already fluttering slightly in his hands. He put his arms through the straps, and felt the wings attach, still fluttering, ready to take off and fly. "Okay."
The Flower brought her hands together in a prayer-like gesture, then brought them apart, filled with a sparkling blue radiance. She circled Armand, sprinkling the radiance on him as if it were glitter. Then she returned to the center of the flower and closed her eyes, hands held upwards. Her antennae waved purposefully. Energy spilled from the wings again, blowing through him as if through a canyon, and then it was gone. And he felt suddenly... lighter.
"I have removed the last traces of the Fallen Ones from you," she said. "You must wear the wings all the time that you are in our realm, to hide yourself from them."
"Um, thank you."
The Spring Flower fluttered back over to the center of the large blossom. "You may go now. See our realm. Enjoy the sights. We will speak again before you leave."

Etude 6: Allegro Energico

2004-11-08T21:43:00.000+08:00

Okay. I had a friend over, which meant that I was hanging with him instead of writing. (Mostly.) This also involved staying up way too late and getting my sleep schedule thrown out of whack... Also felt kinda demotivated, ugh. So... Etude 6. I tried posting this yesterday, but Blogger threw a tantrum and refused to post it.
Meanwhile, there's now a villain (probably)! Yay!
Another note! I wrote a bit more to finish up this chapter... It wasn't that much, so I'm just tacking it on here instead of giving it another post.

Armand stared at the collapsed form of Sarah beside him. She had managed to do something, something that made the grass return to its original position. He wasn't about to kick it again, even though he wanted. Just like a girl to faint... He looked at her again. Her skin seemed paler than usual, almost transparent. No, it wasn't just weakness that made her pass out. She did something, and the effort made her pass out. I felt the tension. He looked suspiciously at the grass. I think I'd better get her off this stuff before it decides to grow again. Otherwise there's no way I'm going to get out of here. He stepped over to her and grabbed her arms, starting to drag her. But the grass seemed to snag at her, and he couldn't get her very far. This is not working. He took another experimental tug at her. Okay, I think she's actually kinda light... Maybe I can carry her. He knelt, and got his arms around her, then lifted. There was a moment of tension, as the grass tugged at her passively, and then she was free. And surprisingly light. But I don't think I can carry her like this... He tried slinging her over his shoulders. That worked much better, even though he felt like a hunchback. He shifted her around until she was balanced evenly, and started walking off towards the forest.

...

Beneath the plains, the great one stirred. He had felt the conflict above, as his guardians attempted to capture an intruder. And then the burst and release of the power only a nexus held... And now, something else, another power that was unfamiliar. It and the nexus were moving towards the forest, away from his territory. But there would be time later to fix things. Time to claim the nexus for his own.

Sarah didn't wake up until they reached the forest. The trees were bright green, almost painfully so. There seemed to be butterflies flitting about here and there. Armand, tired from carrying her, left her propped up against a tree. He wanted to kick the tree, but decided it might be a bad idea. Damn it, isn't there anything here I can hit? He eyed the butterflies warily, but they seemed harmless enough, their wings sparkling in the sunlight. Sarah began to stir.
"What happened?"
"You fainted." His voice communicated what a sissy he thought she was.
"Oh. But the grass..."
"It diminished until it was normal size."
"Good." She tried to sit up better. "Ow, my head hurts."
"Have you seen this area before?"
"Yes, a little bit... I remember the butterflies."
"Good or bad?"
"I'm not sure. They warned me when the light came..." She struggled to her feet. "Yikes, that made me dizzy. I must have gotten up too fast."
"So where to now, oh expert guide?"
Sarah looked around at the forest. "I don't know. The last time I was here... It was in a dream, and there were butterflies. And then a light appeared and chased me, over the plains and into the mountains." She paused for a moment, trying to remember what had happened. "There was a clearing in the forest that was filled with butterflies. But when the light appeared, the butterflies turned evil..."
Armand looked at her, exasperated. "Fine, let's go to this clearing. It's at least somewhere to go to."
She nodded hesitantly. "Okay." She waited for him to go.
"You know the way."
"Not really..."
"Fine. This way seems as good as any." And they headed off.

It was not long before they arrived at the clearing, but Sarah was already out of breath. "This is the place," she said. "I can feel it."
"Where are the butterflies?" There were none in sight.
"I don't know... The last butterflies you saw... Were they metallic?"
"No."
"That's good." She stopped to rest against a tree. "I'm so tired... I don't know why I feel so tired already."
He glared at her, then his expression softened a little. "I guess we can rest here for a while."
"Good... Resting... That sounds so good." She sat down by the tree, slumped against it. "I wish I could just sleep and not have to take care of anything anymore."
Armand wasn't really listening to her. He was looking around suspiciously. Out of the corner of his eye, he kept seeing butterflies flitting about, but they always disappeared when he looked straight at them. He turned back to Sarah.
"Sarah?" She was fast asleep against the tree. He could feel a wave of sleepiness rush through him, but he fought it. At least one of us has to stay awake, he thought. It returned, harder and faster. He stood, digging his nails into his palms. This isn't natural. It feels like an attack. Well, I am not going down. The drowsiness came over him again, but he fought, head swimming from the effort. Black spots passed before his eyes as he tried to keep them open. He dug his nails in deeper. "I will not surrender!" He shouted. The butterflies seemed to be swarming closer now. He spun around quickly, trying to catch them, but they were too fast for him. The beating of their wings sounded almost like menacing laughter, mocking him. "Come here and fight! Cowards!" Then the sound of wings faded, and the butterflies swirled into a glittering mass at the center of the clearing. Brilliant light gleamed off their wings, blinding him for a moment. When the light disappeared, there was a delicate young woman standing in the center of the clearing. Her hair was multi-colored and shimmered, and she had two antennae. But most striking were here wings -- they were the wings of a butterfly, magnified many times over, with glorious traceries of colour in intricate patterns.
"Welcome to our glade, stranger," she said. The wind whistled through her voice. "And we apologize that we activated our defenses against you and your companion. We thought you might be agents of the enemy, but from the texture of her dreams, and your own strange powers, we realized that you could not be such."
"And just who are you?"
"I am Lysshander, a guardian of the butterfly people. I watch over our borders and ensure that none pass who should not."
"And what would you have done if we had been agents of this... enemy of yours?"
"After the two of you had succumbed to our defenses, we would have taken you to the edge of the forest and left you there. It is not in us to harm others."
"I still don't trust you."
"I have told you only the truth."
"Then wake her up." He pointed to Sarah. "Show me that I can trust you."
Lysshander nodded, and walked over to Sarah. She began to whisper in a low voice, fluttering her wings over Sarah's sleeping body. A fine glittering powder seemed to fall from the air, sparkling as it settled over Sarah. It gleamed once more, and disappeared. Sarah yawned and opened her eyes. She started at the sight of Lysshander, but Lysshander murmured something to her and Sarah nodded.
"Sarah?"
"I think it's okay, Armand. I feel like I've seen her in a dream before..."
"Just now, as you were sleeping, I touched your mind, Sarah."
"No, I know I've seen you before, but I don't remember when..."
Lysshander stood suddenly, as if listening to something only she could hear. Her antennae bobbed up and down gently for a moment, pointing in several directions. "Someone else is coming through our domain. We must hide you, or you may be in danger. Will you take my hands?"
Sarah nodded, stood, and took Lysshander's hand. Armand looked doubtful, and then threw up his hands in a helpless gesture and took her other hand. Lysshander's wings beat around them in a swirl of light, and then they were gone.

The black wolf prowled through the forest, its jaundiced yellow eyes flickering back and forth to stare at the trees. It stopped beside one and sniffed. Normally, it would never have come this deep into the forest, so far from its normal hunting ground. But at the moment, it was obeying the commands of a greater being, a being it knew only as Master. The trail it had been following ended abruptly here, as if the prey had disappeared. It crouched low and whined. Master would not be pleased that they had escaped.

Etude 5: Lento Semplice

2004-11-06T07:35:00.000+08:00

So I decided to ditch the previous attempt at Etude 5. I like this better. Now it's time for High Adventure in the Dreamscape! Yay! I felt like including more play markings in. If you don't know music, er, just ignore them or something, I guess? (Or you could look them up.)

mezzo piano.

They stood together on a vast, open plain. The sky above had the color and texture of fish scales. The grass below was soft and slightly squishy, resembling uncooked dough in both feel and appearance. Somewhere in the distance were mountains of reddish rock, stabbing at the sky. I've been here before, thought Sarah. I've been chased through here. She looked at Armand, who crouched beside her, clutching his head. She tapped him on the shoulder hesitantly.
"Armand?"
He looked up at her. This time she dodged aside when he threw a punch at her. "Bitch!"
"I don't know what this is! I'm sorry! I've only been here in my dreams!"
Armand glared at her. "So you know how to get out?"
"No, I usually just wake up."
"Great, so all I have to do is figure out how to wake up."
"I think this area is dangerous."
"Even better." He looked as if he were going to try to hit her again, but instead he let his shoulders sag. "Okay. I'm not going to do anything to you until you get us out of here. After that... No guarantees."
"That's fair. I'm really sorry about this. I don't know what's --"
"I don't care about your excuses. Let's get moving." He headed off, towards the mountains.
"Wait!"
He stopped and turned to look at her. "You said this place was dangerous. So I'm getting out of here."
"I think the forest is safer." She pointed in the opposite direction.
He glared at her. "Fine. You lead. That's just fine and dandy with me." His voice dripped with sarcasm.

crescendo.

Armand stomped off towards the forest that Sarah had pointed out. He had no idea where they were. It looked kind of like something out of an acid trip, but he knew it wasn't. And it was all that girl's fault. Sarah. He kicked at the dough-y grass. It collapsed, then sprang back into place. He growled in frustration. The last thing I want do is be somewhere dangerous relying on a twit like her for directions. Which is exactly where I am now. He kicked at the grass again. I don't want to be here. I just want to be back to having a normal life instead of having crazy mists take over my mind and stalk girls. I have my faults, but I am not a stalker. Who would want to stalk her, anyway?
"Armand?"
"What," he growled.
"I think you should stop kicking the grass."
"Why?" He kicked it again. "It's not like there's anything better to kick."
"Stop it!"
And then the grass he'd kicked sprang back up, and started growing. It sprouted into a myriad of tendrils, all flailing and grabbing at him. "Armand!" Oh, very useful, he thought. Scream my name, that's going to help. He tried to kick the grass away, but it had trapped his feet and wrapped around them so tightly he couldn't move.
"Wait!"
"I'm not going anywhere right now, thanks to this crap." The tendrils were still growing, wrapping themselves around his legs and torso.
This time he felt the gathering storm, the tension in the air as thick as molasses. "Stop!" She screamed. And everything stopped.

forte. fermata.

The world held its breath as Sarah stared in shock at the effects of her scream. She could feel the tension in the air, like a string pulled out of place and just waiting to be let go so it could snap back in. The grass was frozen, tendrils held immobile mid-thrash. Armand, too, was frozen, as he had been once before. But I have to help him. This is all my fault that he's here. She gingerly approached the grass. The tension seemed to mount inside her head, but she knew if she released it, time would resume its flow. She grasped a tendril. It was firm now, and seemed heavy. Heavy with time... She tried to pull it away from Armand. It moved slowly, so slowly she wasn't sure it had moved at all. She was soon panting with exhaustion, head throbbing from the effort of maintaining the tension. I can't do it. Not like this. Oww, my head... I've never had headaches this bad before. And then she lost control, and time rushed back to fill the gap.

mezzo forte.

"Don't just stand there, do something!" Armand shouted.
"I'm trying!"
"Try harder!"
And then a memory came, fleeting, back to her, of a dream she'd had once. A dream where she could control the landscape... "Retract! Diminish! Calm!" But her shouts did nothing.
"Useless bitch!" Armand flailed wildly against the tendrils of grass, which were up to his arms.
I'm trying, damn it! I'm trying! Do what I say! And then the building of tension, and the snap-crack release. And the grass suddenly wilted and diminished until it had returned to its original height. And then she could no longer ignore the pounding of her head, and she collapsed.

rest.

Etude 5 (?): Allegretto Leggiero

2004-11-06T05:49:00.000+08:00

Okay, I've just realized that I don't like this stuff. But it's words. So it goes in the count, and it goes in the blog. I didn't want to figure out what happened after yesterday's cliff-hanger, so I put it off by giving Sarah amnesia. Now I'm thinking of just tossing both Sarah and Armand into some dream realm and having them run around adventuring, in which case this section will go bye-bye.

Sarah woke in her bed, and couldn't remember how she got there. The events of last night seemed dream-like and unreal; had they been a dream? She wasn't sure. But she touched her face, and felt the bruise there. So it couldn't have been a dream. She wished she could remember what had happened after she'd run after Armand... Maybe I should call him to see if he's okay? No, wait, he'd probably kill me if I tried to do anything like that... And I already know he has a temper. She fingered the bruise, poking at the area to see how large it was. Ow, ow, ow, not ow, ow, ow... Wait, how am I going to cover up this bruise? I can't just go around with a big bruise on my face -- everyone will look at it and ask me questions about it! And I don't want to tell them what happened...

She turned over in her bed and looked across the room to see her roommate at her desk. "Maggie?"
"Hmm?"
"How late did I get in last night?"
Maggie turned around to face her. "Pretty late, but I don't know when. I was in bed when you came in. Why?"
"I, uh, don't remember what time it was and I want to know how many hours of sleep I got." Which is also true.
"Oh. Well, how do you feel?"
How do I feel? "Tired."
"Probably only a couple of hours then. Are your eyes throbbing?"
"No, but my head is."
"Poor baby. It's Saturday, so you can sleep in if you want."
"What time is it?"
"Nine o'clock."
"That's pretty early."
"Only for you." She grinned.
"Well, um, nyeah."
"Sleep. I think you need it."
"Okay."
But after a couple of minutes, Sarah couldn't fall back asleep. "Maggie, I can't sleep."
"So read or something until you're sleepy."
"No, now I feel really awake."
"Ahh."
"I think I'm getting up now." She sat up and swung her legs out over the edge of the bed. "Whoo, that made me dizzy..."
"Sat up too fast?"
"Yeah. Ow, my head."
Maggie made a sympathetic noise. "I have some Tylenol if you want."
"Let me see if it passes first."
"Okay."
Sarah gingerly got herself off the bed, holding onto it when a wave of dizziness passed through her. Can I get to the bathroom without showing my face to Maggie? She looked around the room. Blast it, I don't think so. Okay, how can I tell this to Maggie? Let's see... "Maggie, last night I got chased by Armand, who turned into a bright, menacing ball of light. Then the light disappeared and he tried to kill me so that the light would stop taking over his mind. Then I have no idea what happened, but anyway, I got these bruises when he punched me." Yeah, that'll go over real well. Even if she believes she'll try to convince me to report the incident, and if she doesn't, she might report the incident as "Sarah is hallucinating, I think she needs psychiatric care." Okay, so what's the usual explanation for bruises. Oh yeah "I ran into a door." Um. Except that nobody believes that... How about "I tripped and fell?" That did happen last night... Or maybe I could just pretend I don't remember what happened last night... I guess I'll try that first. Okay, Sarah, here we go.
"Maggie?"
"Hmm?"
"Did I try to tell you anything last night?"
"No, you didn't wake me up at all. Why?"
"Umm, I've got this bruise here --"
Maggie turned to face her. "What? Wow, that's a shiner all right!"
"-- and I don't remember how I got it."
"Um, Sarah, are you sure you're all right?"
"Yeah, I think so. It's just... Umm... I don't want anyone asking me questions about the bruise..."
Maggie nodded. "You really don't remember anything?"
"Not since after my recital."

Etude 4: Prestissimo Furioso

2004-11-05T02:40:00.000+08:00

The chapter title means "play furiously, as fast as possible". This one was fun to write. I felt like Armand needed a bit more personality. I was kinda worried since I'm not much of a punker at all, but he's got some endearing qualities. (Or I might just be crazy. ;) )
Oh, and note that I'm horrible at writing punk lyrics...

You tried to stuff me in your mold, to make me just like you
Well, I ain't having none of it cause you'll rot me through and through

Armand didn't want to wake up, but the phone was ringing and refused to stop.
"Dude, get the phone already." That was his roommate.
"You get it."
"I bet it's your mom again. You get it."
Armand got up and grabbed the phone from under a pile of clothes. "Yeah?"
"Good morning, Armand!"
"Hi, Ma. You woke me up." He did his best to sound grumpy, which wasn't very hard to do.
"You know what they say. Early to bed and early to rise --"
"Makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise. Yeah. You've only told me that about a dozen times."
"Now, how are you today?"
"Same as yesterday. Same as the day before that. You don't need to call me every day, Ma."
"But I do! How else am I going to make sure my only son stays on the straight and narrow?"
"You don't. Go away. Stop calling."
"Your manners are shocking, Armand. Have you been drinking again?"
He was about to lie to his mom and say he hadn't, and decided to try shocking her instead. "Yeah. Last night, and this morning I was about to get my usual breakfast of beer."
"Armand! I thought I'd told you to stop that."
"Yeah, you did tell me. I didn't feel like listening."
"Is that what you want to do with your life? Stay drunk? You'll end up just like your dad, that good-for-nothing."
"Yeah, well, you know what? I know why dad left you. It's because he couldn't stand any more of your nagging."
"Why, you ungrateful little --"
"I'm not listening to you! You always say the same thing anyway."
"Only because it's true, and it's still true, and you're not doing anything about it! You're heading for a bad end, young man, and one of these days it's going to catch up with you. And when you're lying there dying with your body full of poisons you'll think of me and --"
He hung up.
"Dude, 'Mand, is your mom always like that?"
"Yeah."
The phone started ringing again.
"Duuude, I'm trying to sleep here!"
Armand picked up the phone and threw it against the wall.
"Hey, dude, that was my phone!"
Armand walked over to where it landed. "It's fine. Sorry man, the bitch just pisses me off."
"Yeah, I'll say. Try to keep it down, okay."
"I'm going out." He tried to slam the door, but the auto-close gadget wouldn't let him. He kicked it instead. Inside, he heard an anwering "Duude!" He ignored it and stormed off.

...

Armand's favorite place was in some trees and rocks off by the back of the dorms. It was too dingy and drab for couples, and there were no benches anyway. He stopped to light a cigarette. Damn it, Ma, he thought. Quit hounding me! Just get off my back! It's not like I really wanted to go to college anyway. It was all your idea. He took a long drag out of the cigarette and blew it out, watching the smoke rise and dissipate. He kicked some rocks. A squirrel stopped to look at him curiously. "What are you looking at?" He kicked a rock at it, and it scampered off. "Fucking nosy squirrels. Just like my fucking mom." He punched a tree. "Take that!" A few leaves fell on him. He glared at the tree and kicked it. More leaves fluttered down. He looked up, and saw the red mist as it settled around him.

Someting clawed at the inside of his head, trying to swallow him. "Get out! Get the fuck out of my head!"
"Resistance:unexpected subduing:in-progress priority:urgent protecting:nexus-forming" The clawing changed to a light stroking, smooth and gentle, as if trying to soothe him into giving in.
"I'm not falling for that! Get out!"
"Subduing:gentle:failure subduing:rough:in-progress" The strokes turned into spikes, driving into his being, trying to force him to give up and leave.
"No, dammit!" He scrambled away from the tree, tripping over a rock and skinning his palm as he fell. The pain brought him back to the real world. But the thing was still there. "I will not give in."
"Resistance:unexpected vessel abandoning hide-traces:beginning" He suddenly felt sleepy, and he knew that it was whatever was in his head doing this to him. But it was so overwhelming, especially with the handful of hours of sleep the night before...
"No!" He jabbed the glowing end of his cigarette into his arm. The pain made him gasp in shock, but its red lances drove away the oncoming darkness. And the presence was gone.
Armand sat there, breathing heavily, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. He hadn't dropped anything recently, and cigs didn't give him hallucinations. He checked the smouldering cigarette, making sure he hadn't mixed it up with something of his roommate's. No, just a perfectly normal cig. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to think calmly about what had just happened. He felt a warning sting as he did so, and realized it was the hand he'd scraped. He brushed the dirt off the raw skin, wincing a bit, then rubbed it clean on his shirt. That's like hygienic. Yeah, I'll bet Ma would have a cat if she saw me doing this. Come to think of it, that'd probably do her some good... He stood up and headed back to his room. May as well think about this with a bottle for company.

When he got back, Deke wasn't in the room. His bed was empty, and his bag was gone. Weird. Guess he didn't want to be around for another repeat of Ma the Nagging, Lifeless Bitch versus Armand the Rebellious Teenager. He shrugged and pulled a can out of the fridge. Ahhh, there's the stuff. He flopped down on the bed and relaxed, concentrating on the can in his hand. This time, he didn't notice the mist.

Sarah didn't know what to do, and she didn't want to tell anyone, either. Half the time when she thought she was alone, she'd look behind her and see this Armand guy there, somewhere just in sight, watching her. It was creepy. And half the time when she met him, he'd be formal and overly-polite and mysterious. And the other half the time, he'd just glare at her and tell her to go away. He was much creepier polite than rude, and she couldn't put a finger on why. This time, she was walking back from an evening recital when she saw him tailing her. Just to check, she took some of her weirder shortcuts through the campus. She looked over her shoulder. He was still following her. She started running, trying not to trip in the dark. He followed, walking quickly but calmly. He was taller than her, his strides longer. She tried to cut into a plaza. He was still there, the security lights casting eerie shadows over his face. A blue light phone, I should get to a blue light phone... She thought she saw one ahead, and ran for it. He was catching up, still walking, with a strange, calm expression on his face. And as she watched, a mist started to billow out around him, a glowing white mist that hid his feet and trailed behind him. Just like my dream. I have to get away! She ran blindly. The campus grounds were unfamiliar in the dark. She found herself in the middle of trees, on rocky ground that threatened to rise up and trip her. No, I can't let him catch me! Branches snagged at her. The cold air burned her lungs like knives. It was getting hard to breathe. The mist behind her grew brighter, surrounding a figure of bright light. She could see it creeping up on her from the sides, trying to catch her, swallow her... A sudden thump, and pain -- she'd tripped over a tree root. She tried to get up, but her ankle was too weak to stand on. And he caught up to her.

She squinted through the light. She couldn't make out Armand's form anymore, it was too bright. It reached for her, the light swirling around her, cradling her. For a moment she wanted to fall into it, forget her fear and pain. And then she felt a hand, and red light lanced through the white. Get out get off me get away never make me give in never make me yours never never never... She clutched the hand. It felt solid, and real, anchoring her. "Armand?" The red ate through the white, slashing through it and tearing it to shreds.
"You... will... not... win!" And the light disappeared in a torrent of black.
She sat there, dazed, blinking her eyes to clear them of the afterimages. She realized she was holding Armand's hand and quickly snatched it away. He looked in bad shape. like he hadn't been sleeping. And there were small burns all over his arms. "Er, Armand?"
He blinked, and looked as if this was the first time he'd noticed her. "You! This is all because of you!" He curled his hand into a fist and punched her. "Because of you, that thing keeps taking over me!" He hit her again. "If I get rid of you..."
She'd never been hit before. The first punch surprised her. But the second infuriated her. After all the fear, the tension, the chase... It built up in her, the rising of the tidal wave. And she released it, riding the crest. "Stop!"
He stopped. No -- he froze. His fist was suspended in the air, mid-punch, his expression an ugly grimace of anger and fear. She backed away from him. His sudden immobility frightened her more than the punches had. Then, with the anger that had built the tidal wave replaced by fear, the wave broke. Armand finished his punch in empty air.
"What the --"
"Please don't hurt me!"
"Give me one reason why. And it had better be a fucking good one."
"I can help you!"
"Oh, right. Sure you can. I think you'll be better help to me dead. Do you know how many nights and mornings I've struggled to throw that fucking thing out of my head? You think that's easy?"
"No -- I don't -- I don't know! I don't know what's going on! I don't know what that was! All I know is that I have to get away from it!"
He glared at her, then at his fist. Then he got up and slammed his fist against a tree. "Fuck this!" He started walking off.
"Wait, I do want to help you."
"I'm done with you."
She ran after him and tapped his shoulder to get his attention. And she was sucked into a maelstrom of violent red and black.

Voices shrieked in a whirling gale. "Never good enough for you. Never amount to anything. Never want to see you again. Out! Mine my life my choice mine mine get away get out can't make me won't not you never..." The cacophany brought Sarah to her knees, hands over her ears, trying to block out the sounds. But it was useless. They kept coming at her, louder and louder. "Never not ever can't don't never won't." She couldn't take it anymore. She screamed. In her scream was the emptiness of an endless hole. And then there was only the dark.

Etude 3 (continued)

2004-11-03T18:14:00.000+08:00

More stuff written between the sections of Etude 3, so I just edited it in here. Sorry! Kinda lost interest in the stuff in this Etude and moved on to the next one, which was fun fun fun. :)

"Sarah?"
"Nnnh?" Sarah opened her eyes slowly. Maggie stood over her with a worried expression on her face.
"It's almost time for class. You fell asleep on the floor."
"Oh. Yeah." That must be why I ache so much.
"Class time?"
"I'm getting up." She sat up, still disoriented. "Ugh, I don't want to go to class..."
"Do you think you can stay awake in class?"
Sarah tried to think about that and failed. "Maybe not."
Maggie seemed torn between two options. Finally, she said, "Yeah, you look as though you're not going to get anything out of class. Why don't you skip it today and get some rest in a real bed?"
"But I should go to class!"
"Yeah, but looking at you, I think you're going to fall asleep as soon as you get there. And you'll get even less rest in a lecture hall than on the floor."
"Oh, um, I guess." She started to sit up.
Maggie helped pull her up. "Come on, make a decision now."
"Umm... I don't know."
Maggie looked at her, concerned. "Okay, that sounds to me like a vote for 'go to bed now'. Come on." She started pulling Sarah to her bed.
"But..."
"If you're not trying to resist me, you must want me to do this. Bed. Let me set your alarm clock. When's your next class?"
"After lunch."
"Okay, I'll set the alarm so you can get some lunch, and I'll check on you before I go to the dining hall." She looked at Sarah to make sure she was still on the bed.
"Okay."
"I have to go now, sorry. I have class, too."
Maggie walked towards the door and had opened it when Sarah said, "Wait."
"Yes?"
"Thank you."
"Don't worry about it. Just try to get some sleep."
"Okay." And Maggie was gone.

...

The cube was about an inch long, and looked like it was made of dark pink modeling clay. Its edges were rounded and uneven; she could almost see thumbprints on the sides where the cube had been pressed. But the material didn't feel like clay -- it felt more like a plastic eraser that someone had been holding for a while, warming it slightly. And there was the matter of the... projections from the eight corners of the cube. Instead of being rounded as would have fit in with the rest of the cube's appearance, the corners had been drawn out into eight spikes that tapered into points as thin as the points on a straightened staple. She held the cube by the center, rounded part. There was something comforting about the feel of it, strange as it was. Sarah wondered why Armand had dropped it. But as she held it, a feeling grew over her that it was hers, and was meant to be hers. After trying and failing to bend one of the spikes, she wrapped it in a napkin and stuck it in her book bag.

Later that night, she'd taken the cube out and was playing with it, turning it over and over and examining it. Maggie noticed and came over.
"What's that?"
"It's some toy I found lying on the floor."
"Wow, it looks weird. Can I see it?"
"Sure." She held it out to Maggie. "Grab it by the sides, not the corners."
"Okay." Maggie reached for the cube. "Ow!"
"What happened?"
"The thing has spikes on it! Ow, ow, ow." She stuck her thumb in her mouth, trying to soothe the pain.
"You just have to be careful with it."
"That thing's too dangerous to be a toy!"
Sarah shrugged. "I guess. Are you bleeding?"
Maggie took her thumb out of her mouth and examined it. "No, doesn't look like it. That thing hurt, though. You can keep it. I'm going to go play with something safe, like a stress ball."
"Sorry, Maggie."
Maggie smiled at her. "I still think you're crazy, but it's nice to see you interested in something for once. Just... be careful, okay?"

Sarah woke to someone vigorously shaking her. "Wha is it?"
"Wake up, Sarah." It was Maggie.
"Don' wanna. Saturday."
"Come on, Sarah. You are coming to play basketball with me."
She tried to bury her head with a pillow. "Don't like basketball."
Maggie snatched the pillow away from her. "You need to do things other than your homework. Come on. Basketball."
Sarah tried to hide under the blanket, but Maggie snatched that, too. "You're mean! It's cold!"
"So warm yourself up with some exercise!"
Sarah blinked groggily a few times until her eyes focused. "You're not going away, are you?"
"Not until you come with me!" Maggie was already dressed and looked bright and cheerful.
"It's too early."
"It's ten o' clock. That's not early."
"Okay, okay, I'm getting up. Let me do it slowly so I don't get dizzy." She sat up and dangled her legs over the side of the bed. After a little while she felt clearer, and she got off the bed.
"There, that wasn't so hard, was it?"
She tried to glare at Maggie, which was difficult with her eyes not focusing properly again. "Yes, it was." But she headed to the bathroom and started getting ready.

A little while later, she and Maggie were heading for the gym.
"Maggie, you know I can't play basketball," said Sarah.
"Don't worry, I can't either! And Paul promised he'd go easy on us."
"Paul's going to be there?"
"Of course he is! You didn't think we could play basketball with just two people, did you?"
She groaned. "So who else will be there?
"Hmmm... Vicky, Luke, Dave, not Matt, Bobby, and Joyce."
"But Dave's on the basketball team!"
"He said he'll go easy on us, too."
"Is this guys versus girls or something?"
"No, I think Paul's setting up the teams to be as fair as he can."
"That's impossible. Whichever team gets me, loses."
Maggie made a sympathetic sound. "You're not that bad at basketball. I've seen you play before."
"But I haven't played in ages!"
"Come on, Sarah, just relax. This is for fun, not for winning. I know Bobby's a worse player than you are, and she's in it just for the exercise." Maggie punched the air with her fist. "Exercise! It's good for you!"
Sarah just glared at Maggie and refused to talk the rest of the way to the gym.

Etude 3: Allegro Misterioso

2004-11-03T06:17:00.000+08:00

Yay weirdness! I felt like a change of pace, so I made one. These beings probably aren't going to be doing much talking to each other... It almost makes my brain hurt figuring them out. ;)

Etude 3: Allegro Misterioso

Drifting through the lattice, he cursed the necessity of being forced to use such a flawed, obvious vessel for the work. But he'd needed something that would not notice sudden lapses of consciousness, something that would take such in stride. It seemed like such a short time ago when the vessels would have been considered themselves honored to be so chosen. Now, though, such vessels were more likely to be imprisoned or otherwise have their freedom of movement restricted. For now, he had to give the vessel a rest. He glowed dark violet for a moment, remembering the first -- and only -- time he'd missed the warnings signs. The vessel had gone mad, its body confused and tormented by the attempts of two different beings to control it. The madness had nearly claimed him, before he detached himself and the body tore itself apart in a frenzy. But now he floated lazily through the lattice's gently changing colours. Finally, he found his destination -- a clot of blue with green strands running through it. He merged himself with the node.

He flashed white for a moment, alerting the others. "This:observing nexus:forming locating completed."
A questioning green tinge crept over one of the elders. "Making-safe protecting not-hurting observing which:identity-to-be-known?"
He glowed red with indignation. "This:observing nexus:forming protecting making-safe progress:current."
The elder glowed blue, satisfied. "Trusting that:observing-protecting-nexus:forming warning this:preparing." And with that, he was dismissed.

Etude 2: Andante Delicato

2004-11-02T20:14:00.000+08:00

If you read this post earlier, you'll probably just have to read it again... I filled in the missing sections and some bits inside the existing paragraphs, so I figured it was easier just to post the thing in full. As usual, hit the "Read full post" link to get the whole thing.

Etude 2: Andante Delicato

When Sarah awoke the next day, it was raining again. Rain streamed down the windows of her room, and the patter of the raindrops on the roof was a subtle rhythm of sorrow. She yawned and stretched, her back sore from an undefined lump in the mattress. The clock read 9:04 AM; there was still an hour to her next class, and half an hour before her alarm was supposed to go off. She lay in bed for a while before deciding that she probably wouldn't be able to get back to sleep. Oh, maybe I can get a real breakfast for once... That would be nice. There've been precious few nice things happening to me lately.

...

In a short while, she was up and heading for the dining hall. There was no wind now, although it was still cold. Damn, I forgot my gloves again. Oh well... The dining hall itself was warm and nearly empty -- its breakfast hours were almost over. There was still plenty of coffee, of course, and tater tots, and scrambled egg that was somehow not cold and not too greasy. After a glance at the sausages and the congealed grease at the bottom of the tray, she decided to skip them. I feel like I should have fruit or something to make it healthier... Well, potatoes are vegetables, and ketchup is made from vegetables, so that should count.
There was nobody she recognized at the tables, so she picked an empty one in the corner and sat down. Yeah, I don't really know any morning people. And the ones I do know aren't breakfast people. At least I don't have to try to make conversation. Then she saw someone she did recognize -- the punk from yesterday. And he was heading for her table. What? Why's he coming here? I don't know what to say to him!
"Excuse me, can I sit here?" His voice sounded strangely refined, especially for someone wearing ripped biker leathers held together by safety pins.
"Uh, um, okay. I guess." She tried her best to look at her eggs and not at his nose ring, which was what she remembered most clearly about him.
"I'm Armand, by the way." He'd bent his head down to try to meet her gaze. She tried to look away, flustered.
"I'm, um, Sarah."
"I saw you at Professor Mel's lecture the other day." She couldn't identify the tone of his voice -- not that she was particularly good at doing that.
"Yes, yes you did."
"The first time I saw you, I completely discounted you. But seeing you today, I think I might have missed something."
That made her look up. "What?" Please, just let me finish my eggs, that's all I want...
"Yes, I can see it in your eyes... They're not the same as they were yesterday. Some subtle change..." She panicked as he continued to scrutinize her face, as if he were trying to memorize it. "Yes, that's it." He stood up with his tray. "Pardon me for my intrusion." And he walked off.
What was that about? Suddenly, Sarah had no more appetite for her eggs.

Economics went about as badly as she thought it would. Everyone turned in the homework, then Professor Bates discussed the hardest problem -- which she of course had gotten completely wrong. After that, he launched into some unrelated anecdote that was meant to be amusing but wasn't. She dozed off again. She woke up sometime in the middle of the lecture, with Professor Bates scribbling diagrams on the board and saying something that had to do with economics. She of course had no idea what was going on, but scrambled to take notes anyway. Before she was done copying what was on the board, he started erasing it and went off into another of his stories. This one sounded vaguely related to economics, she thought it might be an example of some sort. Something about apple sellers and orchards. But I don't need to know how many children they have and where their wives want to go for vacation, thank you very much. Can't he ever get straight to the point, she thought. She was getting sleepy again, and her eyes weren't focusing too well. The professor became a dark blur, moving back and forth across the front of the lecture hall as his voice droned on about the benefits of apples versus pears. The dark blur that was the professor expanding, becoming a wave of darkness that engulfed the hall. It advanced slowly, almost tenderly, before reaching her and wrapping warm soothing tendrils around her. She woke when the lecture ended, having dozed off without realizing it.

It was the middle of the afternoon, and she was alone in the small corridor of practice rooms. Most piano classes were scheduled at this time, so the respective students were with their teachers and not in the practice rooms. She was grateful that she would be alone for this; she hated having anyone around when she practiced. She slipped into her favorite room, the one furthest down the corridor. It was a little dimmer than the others, but the piano was not as out of tune as the others. Once inside, she let herself relax for the first time that day. Here, at least, she could have peace.
She carefully went through her little ritual -- opening the piano, adjusting the stand, fiddling with the position of the sheet music until it was just right. She started with scales and arpeggios, warming up her fingers. They stumbled at first, still stiff from the cold outside, but their movements soon grew fluid and they raced lightly over the keys. That done, she began to play her real pieces. She usually felt a certain pleasure in the way her hands and fingers moved, cooperating smoothly, but today there was something subtly wrong. The notes sounded cold and dead; not at all like the lively brook they were meant to imitate. She stopped and played some chords, listening carefully. The piano sounded like it was in tune, the chords dense and true. She tried another piece, one of Chopin's Etudes. The notes were like ash falling from the sky: cold and precise and lifeless.

After the disheartening piano practice session, Sarah had little appetite for dinner. She tried to force herself to eat, with no luck. Just haven't had much appetite recently, she thought. At least I didn't have to deal with Matt at lunch. Well, he's the one who wants to see other people. It's no surprise he couldn't be bothered finding me at lunch.
"Hiya, Sarah." The sudden voice made her look up.
"Oh, hi Paul," she said, recognizing the unkempt mop of brown hair that belonged to Maggie's boyfriend.
"You look so lonely over here. Want me to join you?"
"Okay, I guess." She stabbed a pea with her fork and held it up, examining it.
"I heard about you and Matt."
"Oh." She rotated the fork so she could see it from all angles. It didn't look any more appetizing.
"How are you doing?"
"Um, okay. I guess. I don't know, it's just... It's kind of like I'm too tired to really feel anything."
Paul made a comforting sound. "You know, that's just as bad."
"I guess."
"Are you going to eat that pea, or are you trying to see if you can get it to fly off the fork?"
She realized she'd been waving the fork rather vigorously. "Um, uh, I'm really not that hungry."
"You should eat. Seriously."
"I'm not hungry."
"Maggie's worried about you."
"She is?" That was surprising news.
"Yes, she is. She knows how much you've been sleeping -- or rather, not sleeping."
"I guess."
"You look really worn out."
"Okay."
"Do you have much homework tonight?"
"Professor Mel assigned her usual hundred pages of reading, and there's more for Victorian Lit."
"You can skip Victorian Lit. I know you've already read everything by Austen five times. And just skim the Mel-agomaniac's stuff. You need the sleep more."
"But I'm really behind in her class."
"So get a little more behind tonight, and catch up tomorrow. After you've had some sleep."
"I guess I'll try." Paul didn't looked unconvinced, but he left her alone after that.

She went back to her room. Night-time was when she worked best, or so she told herself. Night-time, at least, meant quiet and solitude and a cozy darkness with only the light of a small lamp to work by. No-one to watch over her shoulder, to nag her about her failures in a high, piercing voice. Working at night was a habit she'd picked up at home, out of self-defense, and she'd simply continued it when she left. The only problem, of course, was that night-time meant there was nobody awake to help her.
I wish Professor Mel didn't assign so much reading, she thought, rubbing her eyes. She tried to concentrate on the book, but the words blurred for a moment before she could get her eyes to focus. I don't think they're supposed to do that. I must be too tired to keep reading. Maybe I should take a break for a bit. She got up from the chair, rubbing her aching back. I think I need better posture. She lay down on the floor, her back relaxing as it rested on the flat surface. Mm, that feels good. I'd better not fall asleep like this, though. Maggie would probably trip over me in the morning. She turned her head, looking at the heap of books and papers by her desk. At one point they'd been arranged in neat stacks, but that had been a very long time ago. I should clean up my side of the room. And not procrastinate so much on my homework. And I should do the reading more often, and sleep more, and not fall asleep in class... Should, should, should -- is that all there is to life? She had a sudden vision of herself years in the future, homeless because she couldn't get her act together long enough to get a job, starving, dying. Yeah, that sounds about right. I can't finish anything I start, and I even put off starting until the last minute... That's going to endear me to my employers. Not that I'll have any... What on earth does a Literature major do, except teach? And I already know I'm no good at teaching. I wish I'd never let myself get talked into this. But then, it's not like I'm good for anything else.
She did fall asleep on the floor, dozing lightly and without dreams.

Etude 1 (Continued)

2004-11-01T19:28:00.000+08:00

After that was Victorian Literature, and then an hour free until the dining hall opened for dinner. Sarah went back to her dorm room, thankful that her roommate had a late-afternoon class. She'd dozed off in Victorian Literature, too which was usually her favorite class, but she just hadn't been able to keep her eyes open. She still felt muzzy, and her eyes were throbbing. "Time for a nap, I think," she said to the room. She set an alarm, got into bed, and fell asleep. Her dreams were random mutterings of images, and then a voice calling her name.
"Sarah? Sarah, dinner's almost over. Were you going to eat?"
"Huh? Wha?" She turned over to see her roommate, Maggie.
"It's ten minutes before dinner closes."
"Oh. Uh. Okay. I'm getting up." She checked her alarm. "Maggie, did my alarm go off?"
"I don't know, I just got back."
"Okay." She scrambled to get her shoes on, grabbed her jacket, and walked out into the wind.

...

I must be more tired than I thought. That's the third time I've slept through my alarm this week. She stuck her hands in her pockets, trying to warm them. I wish I didn't feel so tired all the time. It's harder and harder to wake up in the mornings, and it's harder and harder for me to fall asleep at night. It's almost as if I'm scared to fall sleep sometimes... She let out a little sigh and rubbed her cheek. And I bet there'll be hardly any food left at the dining hall. Cold potatoes and congealing gravy on rubbery meat. Joy. Why can't anything go right? The wind whistled past her with a muted whispering sound, as if murmuring in sympathy. At least it's not raining anymore. She hurried her steps until she reached the dining hall.
Dinner was not as bad as she'd feared, but it was still unappetizing. She forced herself to eat, unenthusiastically, until just the sight of the chicken in sauce nauseated her. She stopped eating; her plate was still more than half full. I guess I'm not that hungry. She sat there, staring at the food for a little while longer. She poked the chicken with a fork; the sauce had congealed over it in a goopy mess. Okay, I'm definitely not hungry. She got up and deposited her tray on the belt. She headed back to her room.
Then there were hours of bashing her head against the latest set of Econ problems. Then the sun rose, and then there was sleep. And dreams.

The dream started innocently enough. No biting wind, no empty plain, no angry sky. Just a clearing in a forest, brilliant green with the flush of spring. Butterflies, sparkling and glittering with iridescent wings. She was so tired; she just wanted to relax and lie down and not have to worry about anything ever again. She sat down on the grass, grateful for its softness, and leaned against a tree, watching the butterflies dance. She didn't know when they changed, but the butterflies became harsher, less colorful. Metallic. And there was a low drone that grated on her ears as they continued to dance. A wind began to blow, bringing with it a smell of copper and fire. The butterflies fluttered about, wings gleaming. They started suddenly, with the flash of thousand small mirrors, and flocked together at the opposite end of the clearing. Some inner warning made her stand, and look behind her.
Along a path into the forest, she could see a light. Even behind the trees, it was so bright it hurt her to look at it. It was coming for her, slowly, without haste. She started to run. The butterflies followed her, the eyes on their wings glowing a sullen blood-red. The seasons changed from bright spring to blasted autumn to forsaken winter. Suddenly, she was running in the foothills of a mountain range. She slowed down to climb over the rocks, trying to concentrate on not being found. She didn't know what would happen if the light reached her. All she knew was that she had to get away from it, away from its blinding brilliance, away from the searing tendrils that ever reached for her. It was catching up.
The butterflies had disappeared at some point, taking with them the last vestiges of color. She felt suddenly blind, looking at the boiling gray sky and muted gray tones of her skin. She looked behind her again, and saw the light calmly gliding over the rocks. She kept climbing, now up a vertical stone face. She crept a glance below her. The light was floating upwards after her. Its tendrils had multiplied and were now a swarming mass that made her eyes throb. The next rock she grabbed crumbled in her hand, and she started to slide downwards. She screamed. There was a dizzying wrench, and she was climbing downwards, with the light floating above her.
Another rock crumbled beneath her foot, and she began to slide downwards again, scrabbling at the surface for handholds. She caught herself before she reached the bottom, but as she looked around, she realized she was trapped. She had entered a narrow valley that stretched on farther than she could see. There was no exit from it, nowhere out except up the other wall. The light was closer than it had ever been, flooding the valley with its day-like brilliance. It was too bright now to look at directly, and it was coming closer. If it reached her, she would be blinded. She scrambled away from it. And then, from the corner of her eye, she saw a cave. Its mouth yawned open, perfectly black and still, a welcome refuge from the glare surrounding her. She ran into it, tripping over a rock and falling into the cavern. Darkness swallowed her. There was nothing more.

Etude 1: Adagio Sognando

2004-11-01T05:49:00.000+08:00

The dreams that in waking I see
Are all that is left of me

Of all the days to be raining, it had to be today, thought Sarah. It had to be the day when her term paper was due, when midterm exams were being returned, when her boyfriend had just called up to say he wanted to see other people. "I hate the rain," she muttered under her breath, to no one in particular. She sighed and clutched her binder more tightly, hoping that the rain wouldn't get inside and make the ink on her paper run. The wind blew, cold and harsh as her falling GPA and her parent's expressions. Her hair blew in her eyes, and she cursed softly as she tried to shake it out, refusing to let go of the binder. And then suddenly, the wind stopped dead, and the rain disappeared, and she looked up to see a glowing light in front of her. It seemed to reach for her menacingly, and she backed away from it. She was about to turn and run when the light disappeared, and the wind and rain resumed.
"Okay, that was weird," she said. She stood there for a while, staring at the spot where the light had been. There was nothing there. She shook the hair out of her eyes. Something about the light had seemed familiar. She looked behind her, expecting to see someone laughing, but nobody else had noticed the light. She sighed and walked on towards class.

Class had already started by the time Sarah got there, but she was able to slip into the back of the auditorium unnoticed. Thankfully, Professor Mel hadn't started collecting the papers yet, so she wouldn't have to be obvious about slipping hers in. She sank gratefully into a seat in the very last row. She shared the row with two drunks, a druggie, and a guy she'd never seen before. The first thing that struck her was his hair; it was cut in a sort of reverse mohawk -- spiky on the outside, with a stripe shaved to the scalp in the center. He also had an earring, and a nose ring, and a chain connecting the two. She found herself watching him, morbidly fascinated. I wonder what happens when he sneezes? Does the metal get in the way? He turned to look at her before she could turn her attention back to the lecture. He looked at her as if she was just so much chopped liver, then went back to drawing on his arm. She forced herself to pay attention to the lecture, but was unsuccessful. Somewhere in the background, the professor droned on about gender constructions in the work of Charlotte Bronte. Three hours of sleep a night for the past week caught up to her, and Sarah drifted off into a light sleep.

...

She stood on a vast plain beneath a smoky sky. Streaks of dull blue ran through it, meeting and joining the angry whorls of red in the east. She could not tell what the ground was made of, only that it was firm and slightly damp. She knew, somehow, that there was no-one alive in the area. This dream again, she thought. But it's too early! It's been barely any time since the last one... A wind began to blow, filled with particles that grated against her skin. She started walking, going along with the wind instead of fighting it. Then the wind stopped, and a light appeared in front of her, glowing. It extended a tendril, reaching for her, and she turned and ran from it. Then there was a sudden murmuring of voices, and she blinked, awake. Class was over, and people were getting up to turn in their papers before leaving. I don't remember falling asleep, she thought. But she was grateful to note that she wouldn't be the last to turn her paper in. She got up and hurried to the front of the auditorium with it, slipping it in between two others, and scurried out.

My first words! Yay! Not that much, but they didn't take me all that long, either. The title of the chapter means "Slowly, dreamily"; it's musical terminology. However, I should be getting to bed. More words when I wake up!

Etude 1 (continued)

Dice (late)

2004-10-31T22:08:00.000+08:00

Exercise for October 30: Dice

The dice clattered and clacked over the tabletop, anxious to get away from the hand that had thrown them. Bobbie looked at them, amazed. He hadn't expected the trick to work, not twice in one day. The dice rolled some more, clicking as if annoyed with him, before finally settling in front of the red cup. It was the cup he had labelled "markers", and that actually contained his pet frog, Seymour. So the source of all his problems, evidently, was Seymour. The last time he'd tried asking the dice for the answer to a question like this, thye'd managed to give him the correct answers for half his math homework. So apparently there was something up with his frog.
Bobbie tapped the cup. "Seymour?" he asked. "Are you really a frog?"
Seymour just stared at him and croaked. At the sound of the croak, the dice jumped up again and started clacking at the cup. Seymour appeared totally unaffected by the actions of the dice. That was odd, Seymour was usually pretty jumpy; he'd put some plastic wrap (with holes in it) over the cup to make sure he couldn't get out. (The last time he put a frog of his in a plastic cup, he'd forgotten to put holes in the plastic wrap, and he'd forgotten about it and he'd found it the next day, because of the smell.) Bobbie tapped the cup again. Seymour rolled an eyeball to look at him, looking very disapproving. Then he looked through the cup to the dice, croaked again -- this time louder and deeper -- and the dice studdenly sopped their clacking.

270 words, probably 5 minutes. For some reason my computer was running very slowly... It's kind of distracting to have the words appear onscreen several seconds after you type them.

Alone (late)

2004-10-31T06:36:00.000+08:00

Exercise for Oct 29: Alone

After several rounds of introductions and tours and explanations, he was finally left alone in a small, sparsely furnished room. He took the time to sit down and breathe easily for a while, after the exertion of climbing all the stairs. He was alone now. There were others all around him, but he was alone for the first time in his life. He could no longer sense the gentle brush of minds that he was used to, the warmth and sense of belonging that came from being with his family. They were all gone. The monks had been kind enough to take him in, but they could not replace what was lost. He got up from the chair and lay on the bed, sprawling out. The bed, at least, was reasonably large, or at least, it was larger than the space he'd had to share with his cousins. The thought of his cousins nearly sent him to tears again; they'd all been younger than him, and they shouldn't have died, except for the crippling diseas that swept through the village and ravaged the populace. Gone, all gone, and only him alive because his mind-sense had been too weak for him to really be affected. He'd gotten headaches, but that was all. Not the splitting migraines his mother had experienced. Not the dizziness and seizures of his father. He'd survived because he was the most mediocre, the least capable, of the entire village. That seemed unfair.

And now he'd been taken in by the Aventine monks, who knew nothing of his heritage and would have quickly thrown him out if they had. To be able to read minds was to tresspass on the realm of God, for it was only to Him that the innermost thoughts of a man should be revealed. "Well, you have nothing to worry about from me," he said to the room. "I can't even tell what any of you are feeling." He sighed, and started unpacking his belongings.

333 words, 5 minutes.

"Fighting tears, she grabbed onto the nearest branch..."

2004-10-29T23:57:00.000+08:00

I've been doing these 5-minute prompts, and they've been going pretty well, but I realized that I should probably try an exercise that requires a little more endurance. I'll definitely be needing endurance during NaNoWriMo. So I stirred up the sentence prompt exercises that someone else was doing on the NaNo forums, and tried for 10 minutes.

Fighting tears, she grabbed onto the nearest branch and pulled herself up weakly. The bark scraped her skin as she climbed up further into the tree, taking shelter in the leaves. She stopped for a moment, gasping for breath, hoping that her blood wouldn't mark the tree she was hiding in... She wanted to be able to just stop running, to sit and let herself cry and not have to keep seeing her mother's head falling off as the raider took his axe away and headed for her... It was her birthday, things like this weren't supposed to happen on her birthday! It was her day, the day when the gods had granted her life, and now they'd granted the rest of her family death... She gasped a couple more times, before pulling herself further into the tree. The raiders were all large and heavy, with bulky armor that restricted their movement. She doubted they would be able to climb up this high into a slender tree. And hopefully they wouldn't realize that she could climb, either. It was uncommon amongst the daughters of the Flame to resign themselves to such a common, mundane, peasant's occupation, but her parents had always let her run free... She choked back another sob. She was safe enough here, at least for a while, at least for long enough to sleep for a bit and catch her breath. And grieve. Just enough that she could keep running from them.

She woke with a start, not realizing for a moment where she was. She had tied herself to the tree branch with the remains of her shirt, knowing that she might well fall off and give alarm. Below, she saw the raiders walking around, searching for stragglers. She wanted to run out and scream at them and beat them up, but she knew she was far too small to do anything of the sort. And although she was a Daughter of the Flame, she was too young to know any but the most elementary of the Flame's teachings, much less harness those powers... "I will have my revenge," she murmured softly to herself. "One day, I will return here, and you will see what it means to murder those of the Flame."
But that was small comfort as she watched the raiders. One of them passed by with a necklace that she recognized -- her mother had worn it, and had promised it to her when she reached adulthood. Now it decorated the neck of some brute of a raider, blood stains on the gold. She wanted to cry again at the outrage, but she could not afford to make a noise. It was all she could do to stay silent as the raiders passed.
...

It was much later when she finally came down from the tree. She had to perform some necessary business; luckily there was a stream nearby that she could use. But after she had performed her ablutions, she didn't know what to do. Where could she go? Her aunts and uncles all hated her family, her mother, for marrying outside the clans... She was still a Daughter of Flame by blood, but the rest of her family would not acknowledge her. And she had no idea where her father's lineage lay. Whenever she'd asked, he'd laughed and said he'd tell her when she grew up, and then tell her some fanciful story about his childhood. She wished that she could hear his voice again, listen to those stories, hug him and say "I love you, Papa."
She never would be able to. But she remembered that he'd come from the East. And that was as good a direction as any for her to go, now. But first... she returned to the village to see what the raiders had left behind.

The houses were in cinders; the raiders had burned as well as plundered. The earth was blackened from the ash. The smoke hung heavy in the air.

665 words, 10 minutes. It was hard keeping up the pace for 10 minutes rather than 5. However, if I can keep this pace consistently, that means I can do three or four 10-minute sessions every day to fill my word quota. Which isn't too bad...

Water

2004-10-28T18:06:00.000+08:00

Today's exercise is water. And for some reason, this combined with the exercise a couple day's back of "Wings" made me think of Captain Planet. As in, "Earth! Fire! Wings, er Wind! Water! Heart!" In any case...

"What is the hardest substance on earth, and what is the softest substance?"
"Rock is the hardest substance, and water is the softest."
"Yet, water, the softest substance, can wear a hole in the hardest substance, rock. It only takes time, but it will eventually succeed."

I remembered my lessons from my grandfather, a Taoist to the end of his days. I remember sitting on his knee as he explained to me the principles of the Tao, as he showed me pages from the Tao Te Ching. Most of what he said was beyond me, but I trusted him, and now that I look back, I find a solid core in his teachings. And I miss him still, but I remember the story he told me of the man whose son died.

There was once a man whose son died in his youth. After the funeral, the neighbors were astounded to find the man perfectly cheerful, and going about his business as if nothing had happened. "What's wrong with you," they asked. "Don't you feel anything for your son?"
"It is true that my son is dead," he replied. "But before he was born, I had no son, and I was fine. Now I again have no son, so why should I not still be fine?"

I was never able to reach that same state of ease, that same peace. I still wake up, remembering him in his last moments, as he pushed me out of the way of the car that then came for him.

256 words. Okay, I guess. I didn't make up the story about the man whose son died; it's from the teachings of Lie Zi, another important Taoist (but less famous than Lao Zi).

Revenge

2004-10-28T01:40:00.000+08:00

Today's exercise is on revenge.

Onthalo shifted uncomfortably and stole a glance at the golden-haired woman beside him. He'd found her in the jungle, severely injured, trailing blood and feathers. He wasn't sure that Tansy approved of her... But she'd been hurt, and there was no way he could leave someone to die in the wildreness. She lay in his mat now, still moaning, still muttering curses in an alien tongue that he could not understand. The sounds she made were beautiful, even though he could tell that she was angry at something. Her fists were tightly clenched and shaking, even as she mumbled and moaned in her sleep. She was running a high fever, and he did not know how to cure it.
"Tansy, could you go get the medicine woman, please? This is beyond me..."
Tansy growled in assent and padded off quietly.

She was lost in fire and blood... The fire that they had used to "cleanse" her with before they tore away her wings. She would have her revenge on them. She was writhing, moaning with the pain of the fire, when she felt a sudden cool touch on her mind. There was a boy there... Young, just barely in his first adulthood, concerned... He would be a fitting tool. They would never suspect him. All she had to do was play on his weaknesses. She reached out and grabbed his mind, letting loose the fire and blood. She heard him scream.

As soon as he touched her, he felt a strange presence flooding his mind. At first there was only the presence, and then there were flames all around him, everywhere, and no escape anywhere, except into one area of icy cold blackness. He was heading there, trying to get away, when he felt a sudden sharp biting pain at his hand. Tansy had returned, and was gnawing him. He had the sudden feeling that Tansy had saved him from a terrible fate, and he hugged and petted her. The medicine woman smiled indulgently at the two, and turned to the stranger.

343 words, just barely over 5 minutes. Yeah, it's not *exactly* about revenge, but I felt like trying to continue my other thing (and it does have someone seeking revenge). It has a cat in it!

Used (late exercise)

2004-10-28T01:37:00.000+08:00

Okay, so this exercise is rather late. I managed to get caught up in... things. (I did not spend all yesterday playing games, really I didn't... Especially not ADOM...)
In any case, the topic is "Used"

She stared at the wet, soggy paper towel in front of her. Someone had used up her entire roll of paper towels, without even asking her, and now that she needed to clean up the mess her cat had made, they were gone! Someone had used up the toilet paper, too... At least the towels were still around, but she wasn't about to use her towels to clean up after her cat...
"Elizabella! Are you responsible for using up the paper towels!" she shouted.
Her suitemate came in, looking at her curiously. "No, why would I have used them?"
"Well, someone used up my paper towels!"
"Maybe it was Andy, I think I saw her with some friends earlier, and they were all drinking." Elizabella adjusted her glasses, showing what she really thought of Andy's early-afternoon drinking.
Susan sighed. "Well, do you ahve any extra towels? Morpheus here decided to let loose and now I don't have anything to clean it up with."
Elizabella put a finger to her lips, looking thoughtful. "Well, I have some old newspapers, would those do?"
"They're disposable and reasonably absorbent. They'll do."
In a little bit, the mess had been cleaned up, and the soiled newspapers disposed of. "I'm glad that's gotten rid of."
"Susan, we're out of toilet paper, too, and I, umm... I didn't notice before I..."
"Elizabella!"
"Sorry, Susan! It's just that I was reading and it was sooo interesting I wasn't really paying attention and now I'm finished and..."
Susan sighed again. "Okay, you stay there, and I'll go see if I can beg some toilet paper off our dear neighbors."

272 words, 5 and a bit minutes. I don't like this one very much at all. I think it's a bit too silly for my taste.

Emotions

2004-10-26T02:42:00.000+08:00

I've been trying to write a PHP script that can dynamically generate a wordcount progress bar, all because I don't like the graphics of the progress meters I've seen so far. I can get the graphics code working on my home computer, but my host is unhappy with it and won't tell me why...

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Meanwhile, today's exercise: Emotions

He could taste the scent of her emotions, trailing behind her like blood from a sack. He sniffed the air delicately, savoring the different aromas, picking them out. Fear, of course. Anger, too was expected. Hope, running like a blue cloud through the rest -- where had that come from? There was none of the acid brown of despair, only the duller brown of fatigue. She was, essentially, in good shape, and would still provide a great deal of challenge. He grinned, showing all his teeth. This would be fun.

She paused in her running to look behind her. There didn't seem to be anyone else trailing her, but she'd thought that the last time, too... She was scared. The teeth on that... that... thing that had jumped out at her, when she'd thought she was only dealing with another homeless person, someone to help out at the shelter. And then there'd been the red mist, and the blurring of vision, and the blood everywhere, from everyone except her, and the one homeless man standing there, grinning at her with far too many teeth, the one that she'd liked, who'd seemed so friendly and human and was really nothing but. And he'd taken her soup and thanked her for it and smiled with what had at first seemed perfectly normal teeth, and after he finished feasting on the bodies of the dead, he'd drunk her soup, and complimented her on it. As if it were just another meal to him. How dare he! In her place, her shelter, that she'd worked so hard to build...
She heard footsteps behind her, saw the glint of teeth, and began to run again.

291 words, 5 and a bit minutes. It's starting to look like that's my average, run-of-the-mill result.

Wings

2004-10-24T21:02:00.000+08:00

Today's exercise: wings.

She could still feel the pain where they'd torn one of her wings off. The bleeding had stopped, at least, but it still ached and burned, and there was the sense of loss that nearly overwhelmed her... She would never fly again. All because of a mistake, a word in the wrong place, a smile at the wrong person... She was now outcast, alone, an exile, never to return home. She looked back at the shining city, the last she would ever see of it, as it rose above the clouds. "Damn you!" she screamed, raising her fist to the sky. "I will show you that you were wrong! I will not forget! Never! You will regret this someday, you and your descendants!"
She screamed until her voice was hoarse and the city could no longer be seen, her throat dry and aching with the fire of straw and kindling. Then she knelt, cradling herself, trying not to think too hard about the way it had felt to have wings... She'd known she was skirting the edge of the law, but this punishment... And she would have all of her immortal lifespan to think it over. "Well," she said to herself, "I will think it over... And it will be to your grief." She turned her back on where the city had been and begun to trek through the wilderness, leaving a trail of feathers and blood behind her.

"What do you see, Tansy?" asked the young tribesman. "Is it another boar running wild?"
Tansy, his lion companion growled and nuzzled a spot on the ground. There was blood, and a single golden feather.

280 words, 5 and a bit minutes. This one felt like it went kind of slowly. I'll admit to thinking about how I wanted the piece to end. If I'd had more time I'd probably have fleshed out the hunter and his kitty, er, lion. ;)

Hell

2004-10-23T16:43:00.000+08:00

Today's exercise: Hell

(And if you hadn't noticed by now, these blog posts are titled with the topics of the day's exercise.)

She'd always been told that Hell was a big hot place with lots of fire and red-skinned guys with pitchforks and tails. Now that she was here, she wanted to go back and tell her pastor that he'd been wrong, wrong, wrong. Sure, it was rather hot, but only in the places that were all hellfire and damnation. There were the really cold places, too, which were where these strange guys in furs and horned helmets hung out, and they didn't look too happy either. She didn't think that she'd ever get around to the part that was really really rainy, but she could imagine how awful it would be to never get anything dry, ever. Right now, she wasn't in any of those places. She was in a big airconditioned room - but airconditioned badly, so that it was still kinda stuffy, since the windows were closed, and parts of the room were ice cold and drafty from the vents, and parts were hot and stuff as if she were outside. There was a receptionist. The receptionist was not very helpful, and was in fact the antithesis of helpful, even if she pretended to be helpful. Like this:
"What can I do for you today, ma'am?" said the receptionist.
"Could you tell me how to get out of this place?" she asked.
"Sorry ma'am, You'll have to wait in line over there while I process the inquiries that came before you. Would you like to take a number so I know when to call you up here?"
"I already took a number, and that's what you said last time."
"Well then, ma'am, you should go back and wait your turn. I promise we'll get around to you eventually. If you get thirsty, there's a water cooler over in the eastern corner, and there are some snacks beside it if you get hungry."
"The water cooler doesn't cool the water. It's stale and tastes of chemicals and it's lukewarm."
"I'm so sorry ma'am, would you like to file for an appointment with Complaints?"
"How long will that take?"
"You'll have to take a number ma'am. There are at least 534,589 other people in line."

371 words, 5 and a bit minutes. Down from yesterday, but I wanted to try out some dialogue, and my fingers kept tripping.

End

2004-10-22T15:49:00.000+08:00

I feel like Etudes should happen in a modern city of some sort.

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In other news, the theme of today's exercise is "end".

I want this to end so badly, but I think it's only beginning all over again. The serpent eats its tail and eventually there'll be no serpent left, but in the meanwhile, what happens to all of us who're somewhere in its belly? Maybe we'll be throttled by the tail as it comes in through the mouth... Or maybe we can somehow find a way to make it stop, make it spit its tail back out and begin again.
Maybe we just can't face the possibility that this really is the end.
The serpent is bright blue, with scales on both inside and outside. It has no feathers. It has fangs, which are very sharp, and are venomous. They drip with a clear fluid that stings when it touches you. I know this from experience. I don't know how I ended up in here, inside this serpent with suicidal, masochistic tendencies. All I know is that I want out, and currently out involves finding a way to push its tail back out.
There are others in here with me. Most of them have been here for a very long time, and they can see no end in sight. The serpent's been at this for a very long time, and I was just sucked in right along with the next section of tail. They try to reassure me that by the time it finishes eating itself, I'll be long gone and dead, but I don't want to spend the rest of my life in the belly of a serpent!
At least I'm not claustrophibic. I think Emily is, though. She sits there, huddled up, not talking to anyone, convinced that the walls of the serpent's insides are contracting and crushing her. Not that I blame her for being worried about it. I feel guilty because I brought her into this, with all my talk of grand expeditions... I remember setting out, remember the touch of the sun (how long has it been since I felt that?), and then there's a blank, grey area, with shots of blue running through it, and then there's the serpent's belly.
I have to get out of here, if for nothing more than my sanity. Everyone else in here is already a little crazy, if not very crazy. I don't think I can hold on much longer... Everyone's in close quarters and knows each other too well and there's nowhere to go to be all by yourself... No privacy at all. I hate it. I wish there were some way we could have rooms to our own, but in this constantly-moving place, there's nowhere to put walls and nothing to make them with.

448 words, 5 and a bit minutes

Beginnings...

2004-10-21T16:54:00.000+08:00

This is my NaNoWriMo blog. I'll try to put up stuff as I do it, keep a running word count, and so on.

The title just popped into my head when I was in the shower one night. I guess it comes from a set of piano pieces called "Etudes pour le Main Gauche", which means "Studies for the Left Hand". But I like the sound of "etudes" better than "studies". ;)

What's the novel about? I have no clue. I'm thinking of writing it as a bunch of vignettes that, taken together, form a coherent whole. Or not-so-coherent, as the case may be.

-----

Oh yeah, and the exercise for today is called "Beginnings", so here it is:

Everything begins somewhere. Or does it? Is there really a first cause, the push that starts all the dominoes falling down over each other? Why not have an infinite chain of dominoes? But a story is finite, and so it begins somewhere, because it's a window in time. My story begins here, where I want it to.
It was a night of rememberances. Typical reunion. "Oh, Insert Name Here, I haven't seen you in forever! How've you been?" There were drinks, and cheese and crackers, and little snacks with hard-to-pronounce names. I liked the cheese best. There was more than the typical cheddar-and-monterey-jack spread -- brie, neufchatel, gorgonzola even, though I hate gorgonzola, it's the thought that counts. I probably spent too much time by the cheeses and not enough time actually talking to everybody else. The cheeses at least didn't ask me difficult questions, like what happened to my last six boyfriends.
What did happen to them? Oh, things. One turned out to be less perfect than he seemed. Another never seemed perfect, but after a while his tendency to nibble his nails just drove me nuts. And other things, for other guys. They're gone now, never to be seen again, out of my life... I wonder why I came to this reunion. Usually I try to move around as much as possible, trying leave the trail of abandoned men somewhere far behind me.
My story starts here because that was the night I finally got caught.

252 words