General pinglist: @CosmicFalcon @Salathielly @Quis @rotdeer @MeraHunt @gbot13 @ells @Tala2121 @Azuroru @DescendentMoon @septarianflare @mmuted
Just 2 today, but a longer story segment, since I'm wanting this tied off before RBC, lol.
Pair: PROJECT STARDUST - parents due to exalt, 2 siblings retained for project (one is so close! ;o; )
Edit: whoops, forgot to add - Thanks for taking a look! :)
Just 2 today, but a longer story segment, since I'm wanting this tied off before RBC, lol.
Quote:
Lorn sang, pouring every ounce of his life into every note. He tried not to focus on the faces of the dead, keeping himself close to Bier's shadow while keeping an ear out for the thundering steps of the giant. Down in the canyon, he wasn't sure how the thing fit between the two walls of stone, but the tremor of the earth proved it was there, and it was all Lorn could do to keep out of striking distance of the dead he knew and keep his footing under the tremors of the giant's steps.
He had found his voice thanks to Bier's charge down the trail. And his throat stung with the sustained effort of keeping up his song while keeping up with his friend. He would fight back where he could, but he knew he was of less use than Bier was in quarters like this.
He marveled at his friend's sure footwork, his surprising quickness, and his white-throated war bellows that shook Lorn to the sinews the first time he ever heard them. Lorn's only concern was keeping them both alive, keeping Bier strong and the others weak.
They moved fluidly for a time, and Lorn fell into the rhythm of the fight. Every time Bier would strike one down, another would seep out of the mist to take its place, with another face Lorn might know if he looked too long. He didn't look. He was in fact not looking when Bier stopped suddenly and took a blow to his shoulder, driving him to the ground. The dead above him was winding up to take a finishing strike, and Lorn charged, barreling into it, rending it to pieces with song-sharpened claws.
He hurried to Bier's side, and the snapper stared into the mist, looking shocked, horrified, confused, all the color gone from his face.
"What's he doing here?" Bier whispered, a question filled with as much contempt and exasperation as despair.
"Bier?" Lorn asked, and he tried to follow his friend's gaze. For a long moment, there was nothing. And then a second snapper stepped through the mist, grey-fleshed like his son, but more square-shouldered and with green eyes.
He looked down on them in silent contempt, and Bier let out a shuddering breath, tried to pull himself to his feet. His shoulder - his bow shoulder no less - wouldn't bear his weight. Lorn tried to lend his weight to square Bier back up, his friend biting back sobs as he tried and tried and failed.
The other snapper just looked on.
///
For a long time, Oddity thought he was dead. Everything was white. The earth no longer smelled like the sun-baked dirt he had grown to think of as home. Distantly, he heard shrieks and screams and a hum, but who could say what the dead would know?
Then he heard his pulse in his ears, felt the cling of moist dust beneath his fingers. He sat up slowly, his ears still ringing slightly under the sound of everything else. His vision felt tenuous, and he didn't want to push his luck.
He could barely see anything. The sky was bright above them, and he guessed that the midday sun was diffusing through whatever this fog was, obscuring almost everything. "Karina?" he called, but no one answered.
He couldn't even see the caravan wreckage ahead of him. It had been right there. But now?
Odds considered his options. He knew it could have been worse for him. He could have had a concussion, or a deep splinter from what he assumed had been an explosion, or--
He felt the sharp pain in his shoulder, and he stared down to see the thick plug of wood stuck in his shoulder. A slow trickle of blood seeped around it, trickling down his chest.
Oddity stared at the injury. It hurt, dull and distant, but sharp when he moved. He touched it and winced. The wood, the wound, they both felt real. But it hadn't been there a moment before. This bore investigation.
"At least I don't have a fever," he muttered.
And sure enough a dull ache spread over him, a thickness of thoughts he knew was surely a fever. His skin felt clammy in the fog. Around him, the only thing he could sense was an unending whiteness filled with distant sounds.
Oddity again stared down at the wood protruding from his flesh. It would have to stay for now, unless it could be willed away as quickly as it came. "It's not real," he said, even though he could feel it push against him with every movement. "I'm healthy and whole, and I don't know what's happening, but some of it isn't real."
The only sense, he thought, was that this strange cloud of white had something to do with it. He decided to ignore his maladies for now, willing himself to think only of happy truths, and head towards where he thought the caravan wreckage had been.
The source, he hoped, would be there.
<<Prev<<
He had found his voice thanks to Bier's charge down the trail. And his throat stung with the sustained effort of keeping up his song while keeping up with his friend. He would fight back where he could, but he knew he was of less use than Bier was in quarters like this.
He marveled at his friend's sure footwork, his surprising quickness, and his white-throated war bellows that shook Lorn to the sinews the first time he ever heard them. Lorn's only concern was keeping them both alive, keeping Bier strong and the others weak.
They moved fluidly for a time, and Lorn fell into the rhythm of the fight. Every time Bier would strike one down, another would seep out of the mist to take its place, with another face Lorn might know if he looked too long. He didn't look. He was in fact not looking when Bier stopped suddenly and took a blow to his shoulder, driving him to the ground. The dead above him was winding up to take a finishing strike, and Lorn charged, barreling into it, rending it to pieces with song-sharpened claws.
He hurried to Bier's side, and the snapper stared into the mist, looking shocked, horrified, confused, all the color gone from his face.
"What's he doing here?" Bier whispered, a question filled with as much contempt and exasperation as despair.
"Bier?" Lorn asked, and he tried to follow his friend's gaze. For a long moment, there was nothing. And then a second snapper stepped through the mist, grey-fleshed like his son, but more square-shouldered and with green eyes.
He looked down on them in silent contempt, and Bier let out a shuddering breath, tried to pull himself to his feet. His shoulder - his bow shoulder no less - wouldn't bear his weight. Lorn tried to lend his weight to square Bier back up, his friend biting back sobs as he tried and tried and failed.
The other snapper just looked on.
///
For a long time, Oddity thought he was dead. Everything was white. The earth no longer smelled like the sun-baked dirt he had grown to think of as home. Distantly, he heard shrieks and screams and a hum, but who could say what the dead would know?
Then he heard his pulse in his ears, felt the cling of moist dust beneath his fingers. He sat up slowly, his ears still ringing slightly under the sound of everything else. His vision felt tenuous, and he didn't want to push his luck.
He could barely see anything. The sky was bright above them, and he guessed that the midday sun was diffusing through whatever this fog was, obscuring almost everything. "Karina?" he called, but no one answered.
He couldn't even see the caravan wreckage ahead of him. It had been right there. But now?
Odds considered his options. He knew it could have been worse for him. He could have had a concussion, or a deep splinter from what he assumed had been an explosion, or--
He felt the sharp pain in his shoulder, and he stared down to see the thick plug of wood stuck in his shoulder. A slow trickle of blood seeped around it, trickling down his chest.
Oddity stared at the injury. It hurt, dull and distant, but sharp when he moved. He touched it and winced. The wood, the wound, they both felt real. But it hadn't been there a moment before. This bore investigation.
"At least I don't have a fever," he muttered.
And sure enough a dull ache spread over him, a thickness of thoughts he knew was surely a fever. His skin felt clammy in the fog. Around him, the only thing he could sense was an unending whiteness filled with distant sounds.
Oddity again stared down at the wood protruding from his flesh. It would have to stay for now, unless it could be willed away as quickly as it came. "It's not real," he said, even though he could feel it push against him with every movement. "I'm healthy and whole, and I don't know what's happening, but some of it isn't real."
The only sense, he thought, was that this strange cloud of white had something to do with it. He decided to ignore his maladies for now, willing himself to think only of happy truths, and head towards where he thought the caravan wreckage had been.
The source, he hoped, would be there.
<<Prev<<
Pair: PROJECT STARDUST - parents due to exalt, 2 siblings retained for project (one is so close! ;o; )
Edit: whoops, forgot to add - Thanks for taking a look! :)
