Nemaisare

The Reawakening - modern day, elemental magic

Sounds like you've got plans, eh? ;) S'always grand to have interest! And plans. Plans and interest go well together. Yepyepyepyepyep

*now cannot help wondering how a rainbow would manage stabbing*

The Alcean Resistance

Ow...

Ear pulling...

Never had this problem before...

Lacchi sighed as his head involuntarily tilted to the side, wincing away from the tugging fingers before realising that that wouldn't help. The nerves there sent a very sharp message that they didn't appreciate the move. With a yelp, he stood up and shook out the lingering aftereffects of being too patient with an over eager child. When Darlond found a new target to grab, the cursed thief simply stood for a moment, silky tail firmly grasped by the growing toddler and a sorely agrieved pleading in his brown eyes. The guard he turned to, however, was too busy trying not to laugh to be of any help. Fortunately, Khani was also used to seeing Lacchi interact with the little boy, he knew the hound wouldn't harm him. So Lacchi felt no need to be circumspect when Darlond started pulling. He'd grown too insistent since their last visit together, and what used to be cute, was now painful.

Little boys had to learn sometime that pulling tails and ears wasn't wise. Better that it was with a dog who wouldn't bite, but he was a little young for scaring. Turning quickly, he surprised the little boy with the movement and won his tail free. But he didn't stop there. He butted Darlond with his muzzle, knocking the young prince over and then lying on him. No injuries and no teeth bared, just a bit of startling, and the bonus of having his arms pinned for a while. And when the poor brat started sniffling, Lacchi just wagged his tail and licked his face. It took Khani two minutes to try coaxing and then just haul him off the boy. And as soon as he was up, the cursed thief changed tactics, jumping off the ground and grabbing a toy to play with. He knew why Darlond was being restless. There'd been no visit from his mother yet today. Well, that the boy knew of, he'd been asleep when the Queen stopped to check in on him. Lacchi was curious himself, for she'd been more anxious than usual. He didn't like a mother acting anxious over her children.

It usually meant trouble. He wanted to get out so they could find Queen Elya, but he'd overheard the maid telling Khani that Darlond needed to stay in his room until further word came from the Queen. It only concerned him further, but also took away the opportunity to do anything about it. The last time he'd left a child when he was worried, he'd been turned into a dog. She'd also died... The two facts weren't entirely connected, but neither helped with his nerves. So he did what he could, prancing back to the boy and shaking the wooden block about until he was dizzy. The toothmarks probably wouldn't be appreciated, but that wasn't really a problem he'd have to deal with. Then a sharp corner dug into the roof of his mouth and he dropped the square with a snort. Well, that showed him, didn't it?

Come on boy, let's have a bit of fun if we're stuck here then.

He nudged the block with his nose, wagging his tail and panting encouragement when Darlond reached for it. Fetch was not, ordinarily, something he'd want to take part in, but it would do as a distraction. Or it would have... "Don't want it, Woof." His name, or the one the prince had assigned him anyway, emerged even more emphatically than usual as the boy handed the block back. He took it, because it was expected of him, but simply dropped it again after a moment. He didn't really want it either. So he sighed and lay down again. If there was anything goingfor being stuck in a room with a petulant child it was that at least he wasn't lying amongst all those other dogs in the hall, jostling about for space and scraps. He might not have minded so much if he was better able to read a dog's mannerisms, which you'd think he'd have learned by now, but Lacchi was still learning the subtleties. Granted, being in a room away from the other dogs wasn't helping him there, but it did mean he didn't have to know them, didn't it? He got all the dropped food during mealtimes and had only had to endure one bath to get himself the position. Seemed a fair deal, better than the kennels, anyway.

Now he only had to figure out what was happening, make sure it wasn't a change that would effect him.

Light in the Dark

It's amusing that it took this long. I love this. And your son is awesome. EPICS are funner than I thought. :P

Go! Talk! Win! And call me when you get back, darling.... :P Couldn't resist.

Light in the Dark

Whee! And we are continuing! Yay!

Light in the Dark

Fear's hand pressed heavily against his chest as he felt the dog moving, forcing a rush of air out and letting nothing back in until he was dizzy with it. But beyond the warning she offered him, the beast, small next to him though she might seem, did nothing else to evoke such emotions. No movement helped calm his racing heart, but when she proved to him she had no intention to injure, and did not believe he trespassed, time let it slow a little. And eventually fear let up her pressure on his ribcage, though even as he managed a breath he found it stuttering, uncertain. Painfully slow.

He could hear the squeaks of little ones, and understood only that he was lying next to a dog and her pups. At the very least, he was not between them. But he had never known any other creature to allow a troll so near their young. Trolls, after all, ate meat. Two more shuddering breaths, and his shaking fists were already tired. Three, and his body couldn't hold onto the adrenaline. But that didn't mean exhaustion swept aside the fear, it simply resigned him to it. Fight or flight, but he hadn't the strength for either, so let it come. Wilhelm settled slowly, staring at the ceiling, picking out the shapes there. Blurred and safely immobile. There were no dogs or pups or dangerous mothers to see above him. Nothing but a concept of weight support he'd never seen before. Trees, after all, supported their own weight or fell. There were few other options when their wood was nearly impervious to all save time. Those who lived in houses built theirs of dirt and stone, and let the grasses grow above them. They built them well, though too small for a curious adolescent to stand in. Trust this journey to have found him too many new things to understand.

He concentrated as much as he could on the coalescing colours and textures until he could see that he was looking at dry plants. He did not imagine they'd been growing upside down when they died, but it nonetheless amused him to think so. A better distraction, certainly, than looking at hanging bunches. Especially when he hadn't the perception, beneath his nictitating membranes, to see details well enough to identify them. Had they been only a little less clear, he wouldn't even have been certain they were plants. Fuzzy stalactites, perhaps. With nothing else to look at, he was grateful when Hap returned from wherever he had been and began what looked like a very simple routine. Routine was good, in the face of so much strangeness, to know that life would move on as it always had was comforting. Not to recognise that routine was less so, but Wilhelm would take what he was offered. Certainly, the little one might well not have been up to some of the routines a troll went through daily. It was, for the most part, a matter of perspective. The stool looked small, when he turned his head carefully to eye something that was neither Krell nor ceiling plants. Trolls did not ordinarily climb small things. It was a waste of effort and balance. On the other hand, the stool rose to just under Hap's knees when it was set on the floor. Had he something similar in proportion. perhaps it would not have seemed so small. Then again, Wilhelm could have reached the plants merely by sitting up. Had he been capable of sitting...

He drifted in and out of paying attention as Hap worked, and was just beginning to doze off again when speech brought his mind back to the surface of wakefulness. His ears twitched and he squinted at the little creature. A grunt was all that escaped him at first as he was reminded of his discomfort. Thawing was not a pretty business, his skin was swollen and itchy, his feet were beginning to burn. And all the little scrapes and scratches he'd earned walking through the Jasper Tree Forest without caring about the trees, which had, many of them, been roughly his own height, were creeping across what few nerves were still unfrozen, an unpleasantly sharp tickle that made his shoulders twitch. He frowned at Hap when the lightkeeper chose to steal his only answer. Well enough had been crawling up his throat, and now it was stuck there. His own weight heavy enough to make him question the strength remaining to his muscles. He did not know if he could sit up. He had forgotten about the food. Or not even realised it was there.

His frown turned into a grimace after a moment's brief struggle with his instinct, and he gave himself permission to fail once, and only once, before admitting his weakness. He liked neither option, but if he did not even try, he would not be able to say he couldn't. It was not a matter of pride, but of truth. HIs muscles tensed and he forced his back slowly off the ground, shaking violently before he could move an arm beneath him. With an elbow for support, he could just keep himself there, but rising any farther was beyond him.

"This is as far as I go, little one." The words grated from a dry throat and he winced. He could not even spare one arm to reach for the bowl. This, however, was a matter of pride. He had no desire to be fed. So he tried despite himself, reaching for the bowl. His supporting arm gave before his hand had made it halfway, and he slumped back against the furs. With a breath, he went back to staring at the hanging plants, waiting, with a patience he'd had to learn, for the strength to come back to him. Weak as he was, he could not even be certain it would.

The Reawakening - modern day, elemental magic

I'm in! Mwahahahahaha! Well, obviously, but shhhhh, I wanna sound evil.

The EarthGiver [Nem & Glaw]

I do not mind at all. Whatever you would like to run with, we shall run with. :) I like running, provided it's not exercise... :P Actually, eleven is a right proper age for a first interaction with Aylen. Less chance he'll start being bitchy. Or whatever his equivalent is. I really don't know. But it is, indeed, sort of a folky story, with a dash of epic thrown in. Not epic like That's epic, but y'know,story verse stuff. Because I like imagining someone sitting their kids down to tell them the story of the EarthGiver. It sounds like it should be so much bigger than a two foot tall idol can do justice to. And it is, well, Aylen is, anyway, when he's not a figment of himself. Hee. I'm rambling...

Give her a fingerling dragon too :P Or not... I just wanna see someone with a fingerling... Because that word makes me giggle for some reason.

The EarthGiver [Nem & Glaw]

Hmmm... I do know that there's only one or two humanly sentient magical species in this world, and elementals are one of them. There's probably one rather prolific 'mundane' species that can harness magic via harnessing other beings who are magical, but humans, or whatever you might wish to make them (and do have fun with that if you want ;)), aren't capable of using magic on their own. Though some do study it extensively anyway, to put the creatures to use. The elementals, by nature, prefer to be wherever their element is, of course, and if it's provided in a civilisation setting, they're allright with that. But the other species, and I'm thinking gryphon here... Is much more prevalent in a natural setting. They don't like progress, it means having to adapt to it and they live too long to want to adapt more than twice in one lifetime... :P

I'm assuming, for the sake of what I imagine Aylen to look like, that there is something that looks at least a little human. But if you want to go with sentient seapigs... I can always edit. :P

The EarthGiver [Nem & Glaw]

Nyah! there! Hopefully that works, feel free to bombard me with questions or ask for a further bit of expositoryness if you're in need of it, I might have fudged the actual explaining up a bit. :P I do that sometimes. But no no no, my muse is not wandering, I was simply letting myself get distracted. *sniffs* bad for business, that is.

The EarthGiver [Nem & Glaw]

There'd been voices once. He remembered. Calling him Earth GIver, Great God, Sacrifice... They'd taken his stone while he slept, Cut into his back and carved through his ribs, taken out his heart. Or perhaps they'd cracked his skull and stolen his mind. He did not know. He'd meant to sleep for a thousand years, perhaps he had, the world he'd awakened to had been one of utter darkness, stirred only by distant words beseeching him. Formalised into prayer. He was not a god, yet they prayed to him, offering gratitude or further wishes. The first he appreciated, though he could do nothing with it, and the second he could do nothing about.

He could not even move. There was a tightening about his limbs that did not even allow him to turn his head. He could not close his eyelids.

Aylen found himself locked in a panicked struggle to do just that for a time that seemed beyond counting, but at the same moment, the short length of a blink. He could not understand what had happened, but he did know that his body was no longer his, and that whatever held him now was far too small, and immobile, to be of any use. As his struggles continued, the voices faded, the knowledge they brought of the seasons passing, and his people growing, drifted into a darkness his eyes could not pierce. It was strange, to be aware of himself and at once trapped beyond his senses. He could touch nothing, he could see nothing, he could smell and taste nothing... And after a time, there was nothing to hear as well. So he struggled alone.

As he could not tell the passing time, he did not know how long he spent simply trying to move something, anything at all. But even that boon could not keep him stubbornly set against his prison. Eventually, he stopped trying.

The moment he was no longer trying to define himself through movement, the constrictions eased. His mind relaxed, and the world around him opened up. There was still nothing to see or feel or hear, but there was space. He could sense that much, if little else. Maybe there was nothing else. He'd given up his body to a people that needed it more. That he could still think was miracle enough. It was a miracle he did not appreciate. He had not planned for millenia with nothing to do. The idea of being trapped, immobile, within nothing, weighed on him as heavily as his earlier paralysis, but with unexpected results. Rather than constricting his mind, or presence, feeble as it was, it squeezed it outward, and he felt stretched. Pulled and tugged and twisted, thoughts abraded into worthless segments of emotion and instinct until there was no more space, but an infinite abundance of chaos. None of it belonged to him.

There were edges and folds and reverberations, ripples in colour and waves of sound. It took him further into time deciphering the mess, until he discovered a single, vehement presence among the rest. Pure and shaped, faceted and singing a low sweet harmony in discord with one cracked tone. Stones. Precious gems, flawed but priceless, even the one that had chipped some time ago. With that focus, he slipped to the next realisation, feeling a strange flatness of wood that was meant to be round. It was carved flooring, weighted down and pierced with metal into an emptiness below. Every new discovery lead to a greater one, Aylen's mind burgeoning with freedom throughout the house walls, feeling footsteps and weighing walls with nails holding up fired sand, sheets of thin metal, carved stone, cold outside and layered brick walls. And yet, though he could creep through everything that came from the earth, though he could have laid out a plan of the house in every other detail, including the hidden rooms and second cellar, he could not have said who the people were within it, nor what half the metal he could feel did, hot or cold or stirring of what seemed its own accord. Nor, and this struck him sore, could he have said what faces hid behind the glass. And though he could feel streets beyond the wall, he could not go to them.

He was trapped in the highest room of the building, surrounded by other things that did not mind the gathering layers of dust, nor the light thread of spider's silk winding around their sides. And that was well and good, for he recognised items that, although he could not see them, had no use other than to collect dust and provide a home for arachnids insofar as he could tell. He did not belong. And it was a curious thing, for he could not feel himself, nor the thing that contained him. Without the memory of pushing through it, he would not even have realised it was hard stone. He could not feel the striation of layers pressed together by some heavy force in the beginning of time. He could not see the smoothed edges worn shiny by so many groping fingers. He'd been turned into an idol, two foot high and delightfully posed stepping free of his pedestal. It was a crude rendering, when compared with many of the surrounding valuables and artefacts, but the artist had captured the elemental well enough to trap him within the depiction of a bearded old traveller. Had he been capable of it, Aylen might have paused in his desire for escape to find humour in the little spider hanging from his nose. As it was, he sought only some explanation, and a means of freedom.