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rainbowfic2019-02-18 05:06 pm
dray) wrote in rainbowfic2019-02-18 05:06 pm
Ignition Yellow #6, Blue Caravan #6, Daffodil #14
Name: Dray
Story:everwood
Colors: Ignition Yellow 6) "One of us sings, and one of us drinks, and one of us has nothing at all," Blue Caravan 6) "All my maps will only show me how to lose my way," Daffodil 14) Spring Break
Supplies and Styles: Frame, Brush (Prestigious), Stain "What the world needs is more geniuses with humility, there are so few of us left." - Oscar Levant, Pastels (Fluffbingo "Beach Day")
Word Count: 1,599
Rating: G
Warnings: Imagine giant animatronic sea serpent puppets and you have a good idea
Notes: A parallel right after this Brandili fic; these two storylines may wind up progressing side-by-side for a while.
One of Owen's favourite things (there were many, granted, but one could never make an everlasting ranking when one lived in the moment) involved sipping hot tea on a cold day. Resting on a driftwood log under the ice-cold eye socket of the titular Dragontooth Mountain, which overlooked the iced-over edges of the glacier lake... that was one of the coldest places you could get in the kingdom and still feel civilized. But the tea was hot, and the company good, and he never was one to shiver.
The pair of them remained silent for a while as Owen studied the porous pocks and cracks of the spring-melt ice that reached, gnarly, towards the center of the lake. The usual air-holes that the glacier lake was famous for during the winter were all askew, and great toppled mounds of thick ice were piled in pillars and pleasing piles for the locals to enjoy as they took on the wan spring light in preparation for summer's short, harsh heat. The locals, in this case, were the inhabitants of the lake, and the largest of all of them had crawled claw-over-claw up and out of the milky water to coil around Owen's log. There was nothing quite so daunting as sitting in company with a true water wyrm, and this was the eldest that Owen knew. His name was unpronounceable by a human mouth, so Owen called him 'friend', which the serpent seemed to prefer.
People in Snowedash would have killed to see the serpent up close, but he had chosen, over the last century or so, to keep a low profile. Owen did not chat about him in company, and was careful to make any annotations to his records anonymous, a little circuitous, and prematurely aged; no need to bring visitors where they were rarely wanted. He spent time now watching the serpent as the creature peered towards the mer-creatures basking on the ice. They were his great, great, many times great grandchildren, and at the moment they were exercising their airways gaudily, singing in alien canon as they took up traditional ballads of spring awakening that transitioned from the black depths of the lake to a surface life.
The serpent himself was so large in circumference that three men could not touch hands if they plastered in close to hug him. His ebon-black scales were mottled with silty, seafoam green in fascinating patterns, and each was as wide as a plate. He possessed a long rudder-tail that disappeared into the water, hind-legs more like paddles, and articulated arms that could never-the-less barely support him upright when he came onto land. Unlike his mer-like progeny, he'd lost most semblance to humanoids in his upper torso over the years, the likes of which had filled out, become almost monstrous in a way that left even Owen a little unsettled. His face was elongated--as were all of the species, but his moreso--and his teeth were needle-sharp. His smallish eyes were hidden under unique pale teal spots that made his gaze seem huge and blank. Nevertheless, he looked out over the water with the kind of fond, disassociated pride of one who was very old and a little bit tired, yet pleased to hear a familiar tradition being carried on. Owen empathized... that was one reason why they got on so well.
The serpent nosed down into the bowl of ironwood that had been dragged up onto land, sniffing at the tea that Owen had liberally provided. Clearing his airways--bits of lake water huffing out through a latticework of gills under his great jaws, he rumbled so low that Owen felt the log shiver under him. "Very fine stuff," the serpent granted. "Do you hear them singing?"
"I do, and it's an honour," Owen replied, smiling carefully for his host. He sipped from his cup while the serpent dipped his lips into the hot water and tested it. Even tepid, it must feel very hot to one who lived in an ice-fed lake most of the time. "How has your winter been, old man?"
"Hmmph, boring." The serpent had drained the entire bowl in a few eager swallows, much to Owen's dismay. "It's been too long since I was able to slip out into the river, and there's only so much taunting I can do of the great crab in the under-caves before it comes out looking for a fight. And you, you humans... you all change so fast. I don't know any of you anymore, just babies and more babies, grey and old."
Owen hid his face behind his cup, though in his mind, he raised his cup to a toast aptly said. "It's the lot of us land-dwellers to grow old and die, inevitably."
"And you all stay one shape and size. It's boring," the serpent spat, feeling perhaps a little cantankerous.
"Not much can be helped for that. You know magic is dangerous for humans to play with."
"Shouldn't need it. We've done well for ourselves, shedding our skins as we grow. But tell me, have you been to the ocean? What news of the world?" Lifting his head, looking at Owen sidelong, the serpent's black eyes against his black scales came more sharply into focus, and Owen felt the attention like a mouse caught away from a hole in the wall.
He laughed, suppressing the nervous flare, and said, "I'm going to the ocean in the next few weeks, unfortunately, but the rest of the world is the same as ever."
"So you'll be going down-river, then, eh?" The serpent's jaw clenched a few times, as though he was kneading his teeth into his gums, mulling an idea over. Out over the lake the younger creatures began to form into coherent pods, a call-and-reply had begun to form in the tone of their music, and Owen took the long pause in the serpent's question to listen. But then the deep, sonorous creature cleared its long throat again, and, hacking, he finally said, "I have something for you to do that I would rather you look into, and not my children. It's much to ask, but your arrival is... timely."
"Is that so?" Owen, perking, set his cup lightly between hands in his lap, and waited. His friend was not someone to poke at, less and less so as time went on.
"Hmmm. Over the last year, two have gone down-river and not come back. Their surface-names are currently Merielle and Leouinne. It could be they wanted to travel the river to the sea, but they are on the young side for that, and foolish girls besides." The serpent's throat burbled in something close to a growl, and Owen waited it out, very carefully still.
"Can you tell me more about them?"
"Yes. They're both mostly pale, with black hair and claws. They're, oh, hmm. They're Glogua's branch of the family, so they'll be a little more like your kind at that age."
Owen considered what little he knew. A worry twinged at him, which he didn't want to share just yet. The Dukedom of Snowedash encompassed the River Road that ran from this very lake to the edge of the Everwood, and while the river had been a great break into the territory for humans, it had become a somewhat dangerous place for everyone else who had lived here before the settling had begun. Most people believed that it was good luck to encounter a mer-person (and a mermaid, especially)... but there were fishers, and there were poachers, and if a couple of idealistic young ladies could be taken in by smooth-talking river-rowers, the chances that they had made it all the way to the ocean were slim.
Nevertheless... Owen was going all the way to the ocean, himself. He probably was the best option for his friend's needs, though he couldn't spare the time now to travel all the way there and back. Owen belatedly took a sip of his own tea. "I have a friend who lives near here. He is not exactly an outgoing person... but I will investigate for you, and whatever I find, I will have to send it to you through him. My business is rather urgent," not entirely true, but the backtracking would leave him out of the best seasonal time to travel by ocean, what with the spring tradewinds...
Owen looked the serpent head-on, repressing that low-down worry that any wrong word could have him swallowed whole. "Will you accept news from him? He's important to me. I think you will be able to trust him."
The serpent swivelled his head one way, then the other, looking at Owen from both eyes one at a time. "I expect him to bring them back," the serpent rumbled.
"And if the news is poor, I expect you to leave him safe passage home. You know the messenger is rarely the culprit." He could feel his heart rate pick up.
"Oh, pff." The creature kneaded at the pebble beach with his claws, digging great rifts into the sand below. "Yes, I will remember not to eat him, nor will my children. But good news is better than bad, and bad is better than none. Bring me something; Glogua's pod wants to know, and I want to know. They're important, for all they are silly creatures."
Owen smiled, careful but fond all the same. "I'll find everything I can, and have them safely returned, if they want to be."
"Well then, perhaps a little more tea to settle the request?"
"Always, old man."
Story:
everwoodColors: Ignition Yellow 6) "One of us sings, and one of us drinks, and one of us has nothing at all," Blue Caravan 6) "All my maps will only show me how to lose my way," Daffodil 14) Spring Break
Supplies and Styles: Frame, Brush (Prestigious), Stain "What the world needs is more geniuses with humility, there are so few of us left." - Oscar Levant, Pastels (Fluffbingo "Beach Day")
Word Count: 1,599
Rating: G
Warnings: Imagine giant animatronic sea serpent puppets and you have a good idea
Notes: A parallel right after this Brandili fic; these two storylines may wind up progressing side-by-side for a while.
One of Owen's favourite things (there were many, granted, but one could never make an everlasting ranking when one lived in the moment) involved sipping hot tea on a cold day. Resting on a driftwood log under the ice-cold eye socket of the titular Dragontooth Mountain, which overlooked the iced-over edges of the glacier lake... that was one of the coldest places you could get in the kingdom and still feel civilized. But the tea was hot, and the company good, and he never was one to shiver.
The pair of them remained silent for a while as Owen studied the porous pocks and cracks of the spring-melt ice that reached, gnarly, towards the center of the lake. The usual air-holes that the glacier lake was famous for during the winter were all askew, and great toppled mounds of thick ice were piled in pillars and pleasing piles for the locals to enjoy as they took on the wan spring light in preparation for summer's short, harsh heat. The locals, in this case, were the inhabitants of the lake, and the largest of all of them had crawled claw-over-claw up and out of the milky water to coil around Owen's log. There was nothing quite so daunting as sitting in company with a true water wyrm, and this was the eldest that Owen knew. His name was unpronounceable by a human mouth, so Owen called him 'friend', which the serpent seemed to prefer.
People in Snowedash would have killed to see the serpent up close, but he had chosen, over the last century or so, to keep a low profile. Owen did not chat about him in company, and was careful to make any annotations to his records anonymous, a little circuitous, and prematurely aged; no need to bring visitors where they were rarely wanted. He spent time now watching the serpent as the creature peered towards the mer-creatures basking on the ice. They were his great, great, many times great grandchildren, and at the moment they were exercising their airways gaudily, singing in alien canon as they took up traditional ballads of spring awakening that transitioned from the black depths of the lake to a surface life.
The serpent himself was so large in circumference that three men could not touch hands if they plastered in close to hug him. His ebon-black scales were mottled with silty, seafoam green in fascinating patterns, and each was as wide as a plate. He possessed a long rudder-tail that disappeared into the water, hind-legs more like paddles, and articulated arms that could never-the-less barely support him upright when he came onto land. Unlike his mer-like progeny, he'd lost most semblance to humanoids in his upper torso over the years, the likes of which had filled out, become almost monstrous in a way that left even Owen a little unsettled. His face was elongated--as were all of the species, but his moreso--and his teeth were needle-sharp. His smallish eyes were hidden under unique pale teal spots that made his gaze seem huge and blank. Nevertheless, he looked out over the water with the kind of fond, disassociated pride of one who was very old and a little bit tired, yet pleased to hear a familiar tradition being carried on. Owen empathized... that was one reason why they got on so well.
The serpent nosed down into the bowl of ironwood that had been dragged up onto land, sniffing at the tea that Owen had liberally provided. Clearing his airways--bits of lake water huffing out through a latticework of gills under his great jaws, he rumbled so low that Owen felt the log shiver under him. "Very fine stuff," the serpent granted. "Do you hear them singing?"
"I do, and it's an honour," Owen replied, smiling carefully for his host. He sipped from his cup while the serpent dipped his lips into the hot water and tested it. Even tepid, it must feel very hot to one who lived in an ice-fed lake most of the time. "How has your winter been, old man?"
"Hmmph, boring." The serpent had drained the entire bowl in a few eager swallows, much to Owen's dismay. "It's been too long since I was able to slip out into the river, and there's only so much taunting I can do of the great crab in the under-caves before it comes out looking for a fight. And you, you humans... you all change so fast. I don't know any of you anymore, just babies and more babies, grey and old."
Owen hid his face behind his cup, though in his mind, he raised his cup to a toast aptly said. "It's the lot of us land-dwellers to grow old and die, inevitably."
"And you all stay one shape and size. It's boring," the serpent spat, feeling perhaps a little cantankerous.
"Not much can be helped for that. You know magic is dangerous for humans to play with."
"Shouldn't need it. We've done well for ourselves, shedding our skins as we grow. But tell me, have you been to the ocean? What news of the world?" Lifting his head, looking at Owen sidelong, the serpent's black eyes against his black scales came more sharply into focus, and Owen felt the attention like a mouse caught away from a hole in the wall.
He laughed, suppressing the nervous flare, and said, "I'm going to the ocean in the next few weeks, unfortunately, but the rest of the world is the same as ever."
"So you'll be going down-river, then, eh?" The serpent's jaw clenched a few times, as though he was kneading his teeth into his gums, mulling an idea over. Out over the lake the younger creatures began to form into coherent pods, a call-and-reply had begun to form in the tone of their music, and Owen took the long pause in the serpent's question to listen. But then the deep, sonorous creature cleared its long throat again, and, hacking, he finally said, "I have something for you to do that I would rather you look into, and not my children. It's much to ask, but your arrival is... timely."
"Is that so?" Owen, perking, set his cup lightly between hands in his lap, and waited. His friend was not someone to poke at, less and less so as time went on.
"Hmmm. Over the last year, two have gone down-river and not come back. Their surface-names are currently Merielle and Leouinne. It could be they wanted to travel the river to the sea, but they are on the young side for that, and foolish girls besides." The serpent's throat burbled in something close to a growl, and Owen waited it out, very carefully still.
"Can you tell me more about them?"
"Yes. They're both mostly pale, with black hair and claws. They're, oh, hmm. They're Glogua's branch of the family, so they'll be a little more like your kind at that age."
Owen considered what little he knew. A worry twinged at him, which he didn't want to share just yet. The Dukedom of Snowedash encompassed the River Road that ran from this very lake to the edge of the Everwood, and while the river had been a great break into the territory for humans, it had become a somewhat dangerous place for everyone else who had lived here before the settling had begun. Most people believed that it was good luck to encounter a mer-person (and a mermaid, especially)... but there were fishers, and there were poachers, and if a couple of idealistic young ladies could be taken in by smooth-talking river-rowers, the chances that they had made it all the way to the ocean were slim.
Nevertheless... Owen was going all the way to the ocean, himself. He probably was the best option for his friend's needs, though he couldn't spare the time now to travel all the way there and back. Owen belatedly took a sip of his own tea. "I have a friend who lives near here. He is not exactly an outgoing person... but I will investigate for you, and whatever I find, I will have to send it to you through him. My business is rather urgent," not entirely true, but the backtracking would leave him out of the best seasonal time to travel by ocean, what with the spring tradewinds...
Owen looked the serpent head-on, repressing that low-down worry that any wrong word could have him swallowed whole. "Will you accept news from him? He's important to me. I think you will be able to trust him."
The serpent swivelled his head one way, then the other, looking at Owen from both eyes one at a time. "I expect him to bring them back," the serpent rumbled.
"And if the news is poor, I expect you to leave him safe passage home. You know the messenger is rarely the culprit." He could feel his heart rate pick up.
"Oh, pff." The creature kneaded at the pebble beach with his claws, digging great rifts into the sand below. "Yes, I will remember not to eat him, nor will my children. But good news is better than bad, and bad is better than none. Bring me something; Glogua's pod wants to know, and I want to know. They're important, for all they are silly creatures."
Owen smiled, careful but fond all the same. "I'll find everything I can, and have them safely returned, if they want to be."
"Well then, perhaps a little more tea to settle the request?"
"Always, old man."