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rainbowfic2013-08-05 11:52 pm
bookblather) wrote in rainbowfic2013-08-05 11:52 pm
Quill Grey 12: The Hunt
Author: Kat
Title: The Hunt
Story: In the Heart -- Fairy Tale AU
Colors: Quill grey 12 (Writing is my time machine, takes me to the precise time and place I belong. - Jeb Dickerson) with kana's paint-by-numbers (Lost & Found)
Supplies and Materials: Graffiti (Midsummer Night's Dream prompt), fingerpainting (attempted imitation of the Arabian Nights), seed beads, eraser (Fairy Tale AU), novelty beads (Thousands of doors, opening all at once.), glue (Don't worry about explaining your internal process. Instead, observe your reactions but keep them to yourself for now.), chalk (walking through a sandstorm), nubs (from Sand and Snow.
Word Count: 330
Rating: G
Summary: Something draws the prince into the desert.
Warnings: None.
Notes: Thought I was going to have to mulligan on this one. Good thing Alan spoke up.
As the whirling sand settled and the winds eased off, the young Prince Alan was seized with a desire to go hunting.
It seemed silly to the others around him, his servants, friends, and family. They all knew that the desert was empty after a sandstorm, that what animals still lived had gone to ground and would not arise for some time. But the prince was a good man, a kind master, and none of them would gainsay him. They saddled his white mare, gathered a party, and sent him off into the cooling twilight.
The prince himself could not have said why he went out. Once in the desert, with the night wind in his face and his mare alert beneath him, he thought perhaps he only desired a ride, a gallop beneath the rising moon. The air was cool on his tongue, the fresh-scoured scent of the desert sweet in his nostrils, and he thought, perhaps....
Then the leopard rose on a dune ahead, and he could think of nothing but the beast.
The prince knew, as you and I do, that leopards are not beasts of the desert sands, but it was so lovely, with rippling golden skin and spots like smudges of coal, and eyes the color of a summer sky. He could not look away.
He did not reach for his bow—he had no desire to kill it. It seemed to him that the leopard knew this. It looked at him for a moment, then loped away, and the prince without thinking set heels to his mare and followed.
The mare beneath him was like the wind itself. The leopard moved noiselessly over the sand. The prince knew that he rode towards something immutable, pushed by a vast force that perhaps was fate. He knew that wherever the leopard led him, whatever they galloped towards, his life would never be the same.
He lifted his face into the wind, and urged his horse on.
Title: The Hunt
Story: In the Heart -- Fairy Tale AU
Colors: Quill grey 12 (Writing is my time machine, takes me to the precise time and place I belong. - Jeb Dickerson) with kana's paint-by-numbers (Lost & Found)
Supplies and Materials: Graffiti (Midsummer Night's Dream prompt), fingerpainting (attempted imitation of the Arabian Nights), seed beads, eraser (Fairy Tale AU), novelty beads (Thousands of doors, opening all at once.), glue (Don't worry about explaining your internal process. Instead, observe your reactions but keep them to yourself for now.), chalk (walking through a sandstorm), nubs (from Sand and Snow.
Word Count: 330
Rating: G
Summary: Something draws the prince into the desert.
Warnings: None.
Notes: Thought I was going to have to mulligan on this one. Good thing Alan spoke up.
As the whirling sand settled and the winds eased off, the young Prince Alan was seized with a desire to go hunting.
It seemed silly to the others around him, his servants, friends, and family. They all knew that the desert was empty after a sandstorm, that what animals still lived had gone to ground and would not arise for some time. But the prince was a good man, a kind master, and none of them would gainsay him. They saddled his white mare, gathered a party, and sent him off into the cooling twilight.
The prince himself could not have said why he went out. Once in the desert, with the night wind in his face and his mare alert beneath him, he thought perhaps he only desired a ride, a gallop beneath the rising moon. The air was cool on his tongue, the fresh-scoured scent of the desert sweet in his nostrils, and he thought, perhaps....
Then the leopard rose on a dune ahead, and he could think of nothing but the beast.
The prince knew, as you and I do, that leopards are not beasts of the desert sands, but it was so lovely, with rippling golden skin and spots like smudges of coal, and eyes the color of a summer sky. He could not look away.
He did not reach for his bow—he had no desire to kill it. It seemed to him that the leopard knew this. It looked at him for a moment, then loped away, and the prince without thinking set heels to his mare and followed.
The mare beneath him was like the wind itself. The leopard moved noiselessly over the sand. The prince knew that he rode towards something immutable, pushed by a vast force that perhaps was fate. He knew that wherever the leopard led him, whatever they galloped towards, his life would never be the same.
He lifted his face into the wind, and urged his horse on.
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Thank you!
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Thank you.
(Picture by Michael Parkes, my favorite artist.)
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