by Ormus » Tue Jun 15, 2021 8:48 pm
Ely edit 30 Jul 2021:
1-6 qps, depending on length and quality.
Potential +1 qp: if part of a series: o
Total: 2 qps
*****************************************
A soft, warm light bathed the cabin interior. Occasionally, the light fizzled and popped, as a particularly dry feather ignited on the corpse of the headless chicken. The light enveloped a small boy, perhaps eight or nine years old, who listened with fascination to the crackling and sizzling of the feathers. His eyes, however, remained firmly fixed on Ormus. Sometimes the boy seemed to play with the animals, favoring the pups. Sometimes, he ate them. Even though Ormus knew the boy wasn’t real, there he was. Eyes always Ormus.
Ormus sat on the floor by the cabin’s hearth, alone. Perhaps in his mid-twenties or early thirties, the man was clothed in immaculately clean, but tattered, hunter’s clothes. Pale pink skin lined the edges of frayed sleeves, with a sharp, smooth gradient to dark brown down to his fingertips. A dextrous hand weaved a complex pattern in the air, while the other traced its mirror in a thin pool of red liquid on the floor.
The light passed Ormus to shimmer on the water that filled the tub in the center of the room, casting wild fractals onto the small boy’s face as a column of water rose to form a humanoid shape. Hands moving furiously, Ormus worked to weave intricate features into the flowing statuette. Five-foot tall, the figure’s arms began to warp and curved into graceful, yet firm muscles. The legs began to shimmer then to ripple, slowly coalescing first into knees, and then into taut muscles connecting knees to powerful hips. High cheekbones and kind, but focused, eyes bubbled to the surface of the simulacra’s head, and the water folded to form a distinctly Saldean nose above full lips.
The figure hung in the air, naked in the stunning light diffusing from its own translucent skin. The surface of its torso stretched tight, and small, watery buttons formed evenly spaced down from the collar, over the left breast, and down to the waist. A curtain of water rose from what remained in the tub, circled the figure, and settled in to form a frilled skirt around the figure’s waist.
Ormus smiled. His hand movements became minuscule. Conducting a tiny symphony in the air and documenting its likeness in the rapidly drying ink on the floor. Little details popped across the figure. A small mole on the cheek. The eyes tilted slightly one way, then even more slightly back the other way. One ear dropped a centimeter lower than the other. A few drops of water stretched out into delicate strands, giving the impression of a tight braid, fraying in the humid air of a sweaty room. The hand motions grew larger, and the figure bent one knee, raising its foot slightly, slashed its arms, and spun softly on its toes. The picturesque of grace. A thin line coalesced in a ring around the figure’s slender neck. Ormus shivered, and the line diffused.
Nodding, Ormus gestured grandly and glanced around at the shimmering lights on the wall. A burst of colors, reds, blues, greens, and yellows played chaotically around the room, diffracted from the dancing figure in its center. His gaze watched, and he raised one hand, two fingers held up, ready to pinch whatever caught his eye. He waited.
He waited.
Through his eyes, a delicate thread reached out, touching the wall just as it flitted from a pale blue to deep amber. His fingers closed tightly, and he pulled with great effort. Muscles bulged in his forearms and shoulders, hand slowly drawing back from the air it had pinched moments before. A pool of pure amber light pried itself from the cabin walls. A luscious golden brown stretched out from the cabinet door slowly growing towards the dancing figure in the center of the room. Ormus pulled harder, and the light approached closer. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and the light grew closer. His left hand, moving in sync with his right, slipped out the edge of the red pool on the floor. The figure rippled, and the light slipped back towards the wall it was growing from. Ormus’ eyes went wide with panic, Ormus was not good at maintaining multiple threads at once.
In a flurry of motions, Ormus pulled hard with his right hand, resetting his left firmly in the center of the shallow red pool. It wet only the slightest of his fingertip. He glanced down at the vanishing pool of blood he had dipped his finger in. The weaves were already unraveling around him, and his heart sank.
“Help Ormus”, he pleaded.
The little boy stood, eyes fixed on Ormus, and snagged a nearby chicken. He sprinted forward, proffering the hatchling with a forlorn look. Ormus shared in his sorrow, although Ormus could see the thin threads of air weaved in between feather and fingers. He flinched as the child tore off the bird’s head, pouring its life onto the floor beside him. Clarity returned, and the collapsing figure knitted itself back together, loose muscles firming to support its own weight.
Frayed nerves, adrenaline, pushed tired muscles. Saidin served to focus a tired mind. Managing so many weaves had taken its toll, but Ormus quickly reformed the fine features of his sculpture. Carefully, Ormus snagged multiple threads of color dancing along the walls.
Amber lept from the walls, spreading its essence into the frayed tangle of hair atop the figure’s head. More light flooded the tips, darkening towards the root, as if damp with sweat. Pale white danced out of the corner of the room and gently wrapped the figure’s legs. Stockings to cover muscular legs and strong feet. Pink fell from the ceiling in ribbons, creating a frilly, speckled dress to hug strong dancer’s hips. A deep chestnut crawled like vines from the floor up through the textured fabric, coating the figure's remaining skin.
The figure smiled, briefly showing brilliantly blue teeth, until ivory bled from the hearth to bring them to life. Tears welled in Ormus’ eyes, as the dancer’s gaze fell upon him. She arched an eyebrow. A woman in her forties looked down at her performance clothes, seemingly confused why she stood in a bathtub in a decrepit cabin.
“Mother,” Ormus whispered. He smiled, weakly. “Mother?”
“Mother!” the small child exclaimed, leaping forward, arms outstretched.
Confused, Ormus watched weaves of air propel the child into his mother’s waist. The air blasted through the figure’s waist, spraying water droplets into the air. Ormus threw both hands into the air as if to catch the collapsing figure, and a thousand threads of air and water exploded from his fingertips. He stabilized the torso and legs, snatching droplets as they fell and funneling them back towards the tub. He peeled color from the ceiling, walls, and floors, jamming the closest matches into his mother’s rippling form. The figure flexed, warped, and collapsed into the bath. Water splashed Ormus’ face as a blinding light filled his vision, and he lost consciousness.
Slurp, slurp, slurp
Ormus’ eyes opened.
Slurp, slurp, slurp
Ormus sat up and stared at the puppy drinking from the bathtub in the center of the room. It glanced over at the motion and walked over to lick the water off Ormus’ face. Ormus felt empty.
Ormus glanced around and spotted a damp pool of drying blood next to him on the floor. He touched the pool, timidly, and braced himself to seize Saidin. Nothing.
Ormus turned his head, and found the boy in the corner, watching him. Saidin is gone, but he remains.
Of course, the boy remained, he was Ormus too, after all. Ormus stroked the puppy, "What will Ormus do, Aspen?"
"What will we do now?"
Ely edit 30 Jul 2021:
1-6 qps, depending on length and quality.
Potential +1 qp: if part of a series: o
Total: 2 qps
*****************************************
A soft, warm light bathed the cabin interior. Occasionally, the light fizzled and popped, as a particularly dry feather ignited on the corpse of the headless chicken. The light enveloped a small boy, perhaps eight or nine years old, who listened with fascination to the crackling and sizzling of the feathers. His eyes, however, remained firmly fixed on Ormus. Sometimes the boy seemed to play with the animals, favoring the pups. Sometimes, he ate them. Even though Ormus knew the boy wasn’t real, there he was. Eyes always Ormus.
Ormus sat on the floor by the cabin’s hearth, alone. Perhaps in his mid-twenties or early thirties, the man was clothed in immaculately clean, but tattered, hunter’s clothes. Pale pink skin lined the edges of frayed sleeves, with a sharp, smooth gradient to dark brown down to his fingertips. A dextrous hand weaved a complex pattern in the air, while the other traced its mirror in a thin pool of red liquid on the floor.
The light passed Ormus to shimmer on the water that filled the tub in the center of the room, casting wild fractals onto the small boy’s face as a column of water rose to form a humanoid shape. Hands moving furiously, Ormus worked to weave intricate features into the flowing statuette. Five-foot tall, the figure’s arms began to warp and curved into graceful, yet firm muscles. The legs began to shimmer then to ripple, slowly coalescing first into knees, and then into taut muscles connecting knees to powerful hips. High cheekbones and kind, but focused, eyes bubbled to the surface of the simulacra’s head, and the water folded to form a distinctly Saldean nose above full lips.
The figure hung in the air, naked in the stunning light diffusing from its own translucent skin. The surface of its torso stretched tight, and small, watery buttons formed evenly spaced down from the collar, over the left breast, and down to the waist. A curtain of water rose from what remained in the tub, circled the figure, and settled in to form a frilled skirt around the figure’s waist.
Ormus smiled. His hand movements became minuscule. Conducting a tiny symphony in the air and documenting its likeness in the rapidly drying ink on the floor. Little details popped across the figure. A small mole on the cheek. The eyes tilted slightly one way, then even more slightly back the other way. One ear dropped a centimeter lower than the other. A few drops of water stretched out into delicate strands, giving the impression of a tight braid, fraying in the humid air of a sweaty room. The hand motions grew larger, and the figure bent one knee, raising its foot slightly, slashed its arms, and spun softly on its toes. The picturesque of grace. A thin line coalesced in a ring around the figure’s slender neck. Ormus shivered, and the line diffused.
Nodding, Ormus gestured grandly and glanced around at the shimmering lights on the wall. A burst of colors, reds, blues, greens, and yellows played chaotically around the room, diffracted from the dancing figure in its center. His gaze watched, and he raised one hand, two fingers held up, ready to pinch whatever caught his eye. He waited.
He waited.
Through his eyes, a delicate thread reached out, touching the wall just as it flitted from a pale blue to deep amber. His fingers closed tightly, and he pulled with great effort. Muscles bulged in his forearms and shoulders, hand slowly drawing back from the air it had pinched moments before. A pool of pure amber light pried itself from the cabin walls. A luscious golden brown stretched out from the cabinet door slowly growing towards the dancing figure in the center of the room. Ormus pulled harder, and the light approached closer. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and the light grew closer. His left hand, moving in sync with his right, slipped out the edge of the red pool on the floor. The figure rippled, and the light slipped back towards the wall it was growing from. Ormus’ eyes went wide with panic, Ormus was not good at maintaining multiple threads at once.
In a flurry of motions, Ormus pulled hard with his right hand, resetting his left firmly in the center of the shallow red pool. It wet only the slightest of his fingertip. He glanced down at the vanishing pool of blood he had dipped his finger in. The weaves were already unraveling around him, and his heart sank.
“Help Ormus”, he pleaded.
The little boy stood, eyes fixed on Ormus, and snagged a nearby chicken. He sprinted forward, proffering the hatchling with a forlorn look. Ormus shared in his sorrow, although Ormus could see the thin threads of air weaved in between feather and fingers. He flinched as the child tore off the bird’s head, pouring its life onto the floor beside him. Clarity returned, and the collapsing figure knitted itself back together, loose muscles firming to support its own weight.
Frayed nerves, adrenaline, pushed tired muscles. Saidin served to focus a tired mind. Managing so many weaves had taken its toll, but Ormus quickly reformed the fine features of his sculpture. Carefully, Ormus snagged multiple threads of color dancing along the walls.
Amber lept from the walls, spreading its essence into the frayed tangle of hair atop the figure’s head. More light flooded the tips, darkening towards the root, as if damp with sweat. Pale white danced out of the corner of the room and gently wrapped the figure’s legs. Stockings to cover muscular legs and strong feet. Pink fell from the ceiling in ribbons, creating a frilly, speckled dress to hug strong dancer’s hips. A deep chestnut crawled like vines from the floor up through the textured fabric, coating the figure's remaining skin.
The figure smiled, briefly showing brilliantly blue teeth, until ivory bled from the hearth to bring them to life. Tears welled in Ormus’ eyes, as the dancer’s gaze fell upon him. She arched an eyebrow. A woman in her forties looked down at her performance clothes, seemingly confused why she stood in a bathtub in a decrepit cabin.
“Mother,” Ormus whispered. He smiled, weakly. “Mother?”
“Mother!” the small child exclaimed, leaping forward, arms outstretched.
Confused, Ormus watched weaves of air propel the child into his mother’s waist. The air blasted through the figure’s waist, spraying water droplets into the air. Ormus threw both hands into the air as if to catch the collapsing figure, and a thousand threads of air and water exploded from his fingertips. He stabilized the torso and legs, snatching droplets as they fell and funneling them back towards the tub. He peeled color from the ceiling, walls, and floors, jamming the closest matches into his mother’s rippling form. The figure flexed, warped, and collapsed into the bath. Water splashed Ormus’ face as a blinding light filled his vision, and he lost consciousness.
[i]Slurp, slurp, slurp[/i]
Ormus’ eyes opened.
[i]Slurp, slurp, slurp[/i]
Ormus sat up and stared at the puppy drinking from the bathtub in the center of the room. It glanced over at the motion and walked over to lick the water off Ormus’ face. Ormus felt empty.
Ormus glanced around and spotted a damp pool of drying blood next to him on the floor. He touched the pool, timidly, and braced himself to seize Saidin. [i]Nothing[/i].
Ormus turned his head, and found the boy in the corner, watching him. Saidin is gone, but he remains.
Of course, the boy remained, he was Ormus too, after all. Ormus stroked the puppy, "What will Ormus do, Aspen?"
"What will we do now?"