a place of murky twilights and achingly long winters, but Galen Tyrol has never had typical grasp of time.
Broke the bridge playing pyramid ball, back in the days when he was all knees and elbows
then he woke in the hospital, his sister grinning over the bed rail and saying his face might actually have been improved
He hasn't lost time, he's gained it, whether it's the hours of that fall, or the eons-- eternal snapshots-- that it took for her to step, so lithe and calm, out from behind that tree. He should be so much older, for the space he experienced then; his bones feel gnarled and changed under his still youthful face. It plays behind his eyes, all the time, how she seemed to come from the trees and the earth and the strange, heavy air of Kobol, stepping like one of the Lords from a shimmer of nothing and light.
Okay, I just took up an insane amount of the comment box to quote your own story back at you, but these passages... Wow.
What I really loved about this piece was how lyrical it is, while still retaining the essence of Tyrol's pragmatism and soldier mentality. It's a hard rope to walk, and I think you did it so terribly beautifully. *shakes head* This is just a gorgeous piece.
Okay, I just took up an insane amount of the comment box to quote your own story back at you, but these passages... Wow. Don't worry about it! I love hearing which parts worked for people best, and have specific passages quotes always makes me blush. Thanks for taking the time to paste it all in! ^__^
I'm so glad you enjoyed the story, and that Tyrol's charactization seemed right. He's a tough one, but my muse can't seem to stay away from him. Go figure. -Meredith
Broke the bridge playing pyramid ball, back in the days when he was all knees and elbows
then he woke in the hospital, his sister grinning over the bed rail and saying his face might actually have been improved
He hasn't lost time, he's gained it, whether it's the hours of that fall, or the eons-- eternal snapshots-- that it took for her to step, so lithe and calm, out from behind that tree. He should be so much older, for the space he experienced then; his bones feel gnarled and changed under his still youthful face. It plays behind his eyes, all the time, how she seemed to come from the trees and the earth and the strange, heavy air of Kobol, stepping like one of the Lords from a shimmer of nothing and light.
Okay, I just took up an insane amount of the comment box to quote your own story back at you, but these passages... Wow.
What I really loved about this piece was how lyrical it is, while still retaining the essence of Tyrol's pragmatism and soldier mentality. It's a hard rope to walk, and I think you did it so terribly beautifully. *shakes head* This is just a gorgeous piece.
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Don't worry about it! I love hearing which parts worked for people best, and have specific passages quotes always makes me blush. Thanks for taking the time to paste it all in! ^__^
I'm so glad you enjoyed the story, and that Tyrol's charactization seemed right. He's a tough one, but my muse can't seem to stay away from him. Go figure.
-Meredith
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