(no subject)
Black President, yay! If Obama can live up to even part of his hype, I'll be pleased. Also good to see that we have the old John McCain back, instead of the evil robot who took his place for most of the past year.
The ruddy light of Alroy's wings fell flat upon the detritus strewn before the cave entrance. Matte white and tarnished silver; hard black shadows in empty sockets.
"Bones," said Gray. She knelt, picked a skull up. Turned it in precise, long-fingered hands. "The ones they belonged to were eaten. By something with a lot of sharp teeth."
"The dragon?" said Alroy. The vines twining his armor rustled, thorns lengthening. "These poor souls must not have realized how fearsome it was."
"No damage at all to the armor," observed the gremlin. "It would take a very dainty dragon to stip all the flesh from a knight without cracking him open first." She nudged an embossed breastplate. Ribs rattled inside it. "Maybe it's a hobbyist. Like building ships in bottles, but messier, and in reverse."
Alroy looked at her askance. The dead eyes of her mask stared back blankly. Between its glossy white planes, and the angular silhouette of her jacket and trousers, there was little to distinguish her from the corpses, to his sight.
"Are you trying to be funny?" He frowned, the veins of his wings darkening.
Gray set the skull down and straightened up. "I was trying to lighten the mood," she sighed. "But I can see you'd rather keep it strictly business."
"Indeed. We've a task to see to." Alroy turned and strode forward. Behind him, he heard Gray's lighter footsteps as she followed. The cave's darkness closed around the two fairies and pressed in, swallowing up sound and light before they reached more than a few yards.
"Perhaps you should dampen your light." Even in the deep darkness, Alroy could see no glimmer of Gray's anima; the gremlin was nothing more than a dim outline at the edge of his glow.
"Perhaps you should learn to be more brave. We elves are not afraid to show our faces, even to our enemies." He peered into the gloom, trying to see what lay beyond it.
"The Court of Glass is different. I wouldn't expect you to understand." Gray's voice was quiet and level, not rising to his barb. "But caution is never amiss, especially in an enemy's place of power."
Alroy nodded. "I feel it, too." Out in the dark, he could feel a presence, pushing against his anima. Not the calculating, smoky heat of a drake; it churned and crawled unwholesomely, like a mass of worms. His sword cleared its sheath with a sigh of glass on leather.
"Show yourself!" he called. "I am the Knight of the Briar, sworn servant to her majesty the Queen of Flowers. Whatever manner of man, ghost, or spirit you be, I fear you not. Let me look upon the face of my opponent!"
The unseen presence was still, as if considering his words. Alroy stood tall, holding his sword loose but ready. He waited.
After a minute, the darkness thinned, retreating before his aura as its unnatural density drained away. The tunnel had opened up into a round cavern, its walls and floor polished smooth by years of the dragon's coming and going. His crimson light sparkled on gold and silver and glittering gems, and scales. Iridescent blue and black, scattered amid the riches. Mounded up around the clean-picked bones in the center of the hoard. Jutting ribs still attached to crested vertebrae, winding around the chamber to the long, horned skull, where the shadows cast by his glow darkened and deepened and twisted, distorting into coiling barbed shapes which gathered and licked at the feet of the dark figure seated atop the snout.
The fairy grinned a grin filled with jagged white teeth, fly wings crinkling as she carelessly rose to her feet. "Well," he said. "You're certainly very... shiny."
Alroy's lip curled. "What business do you have here, vermin?"
"Not very polite, though." The goblin pouted. Lithe and olive-skinned, she might have been beautiful despite being dressed in filthy rags, if not for her pestilent anima. It buzzed and swarmed against Alroy's sparkling aura like flies. "But that's all right. You're sparkly enough that I can forgive you. I like sparkly things." She kicked through the treasure strewn on the floor, happily scattering coins and scales like a child shuffling through a pile of autumn leaves.
Alroy took a step forward. She whipped around into a wary crouch, wings splayed. "Careful, shiny elf," she warned. "That big knife of yours makes me a little... bit... edgy."
"This is not your place, goblin," said Alroy. "I seek no quarrel with you, but I must insist that you return to your own house."
"Not your place, either, elf," the carrion fairy pointed out. "And I was here first. Don't be a sore loser just because I got the dragon before you did." She licked her lips. "Probably leave anyway before too long. Those men and their horses were good eating, but they stopped coming. Maybe they figured out that just because the dragon was gone, didn't mean there wasn't anything watching the treasure. I'm getting kind of hungry."
"Monster," sneered Alroy.
"At least us flies are honest about it." She shrugged. "So, are we going to fight or what?"
"If you swear to return to the Court of Flies and do no harm to any man or beast along the way," said Alroy, "I will let you leave this place in peace."
The goblin rolled her eyes. "Please. You came here wanting to slay a dragon, you must have your blood all up. I bet you were glad to see me here instead. So much more satisfying to slap around a grubby little goblin, makes you feel so much more righteous than murdering the worm so you can steal his gold."
"You claim to have killed and eaten the dragon who lived here," the knight noted, "which makes me think you're a bit more than a poor little goblin, to be easily slapped around."
"Want to find out, pretty boy?" Her toothy grin was disturbingly wide. "I'm waiting here for someone, and I don't feel like missing them on account of a prissy butterfly. And like I said... I'm getting a little hungry." She ostentatiously cracked her neck. Her talons slid in and out, shiny and white as her teeth, as she flexed her fingers.
Alroy's boots scuffed against stone as he planted his feet. Shards of red light coruscated from his sword's glass blade as he raised it to point at the goblin's heart. "I offer you one last chance. Leave this place peacefully, or taste my blade."
"Rather taste something else of yours," she leered, "if you catch my meaning."
"So be it, vermin." Alroy narrowed his eyes and gathered his anima close about himself, preparing to meet the goblin's attack. "Prepare to die."
"Finally, let's get down to busi-whoa whoa whoah!" The goblin pulled herself up short, eyes wide. A fat drop of blood dribbled down her neck, from the point of the knife pressed to it.
"I'd tell you to drop your weapons," said Gray, "but since that would be a little difficult to accomplish, how about we just go with you not moving instead."
Some junk I jotted down last night. A few different types of fairies, doing some stuff that I haven't bothered figuring out the meaning of. Writing dialogue-heavy scenes makes me feel lazy, because it takes virtually no effort. It's probably why I fall back on characters delivering big chunks of exposition so often (not here; in general).
I'm thinking the goblin should maybe have a stronger dialect. I'm sort of hearing her with a Cockney accent. Gray was originally going to talk in a very clipped, technical way, but I decided to make her more colloquial, both to contrast with Alroy's formal language and to highlight his inability to read her mood.
I wish the word "gremlin" weren't so strongly associated with the movie. The type of creature Gray is supposed to be isn't an extremely strong match to airplane-sabotaging WWII gremlins, but it sure fits a lot better than murderous, hydrophobic, bat-eared monsters.
The goblin needs a name; I got as far as looking up various genus and species names for flies last night, but none of them really clicked.
The ruddy light of Alroy's wings fell flat upon the detritus strewn before the cave entrance. Matte white and tarnished silver; hard black shadows in empty sockets.
"Bones," said Gray. She knelt, picked a skull up. Turned it in precise, long-fingered hands. "The ones they belonged to were eaten. By something with a lot of sharp teeth."
"The dragon?" said Alroy. The vines twining his armor rustled, thorns lengthening. "These poor souls must not have realized how fearsome it was."
"No damage at all to the armor," observed the gremlin. "It would take a very dainty dragon to stip all the flesh from a knight without cracking him open first." She nudged an embossed breastplate. Ribs rattled inside it. "Maybe it's a hobbyist. Like building ships in bottles, but messier, and in reverse."
Alroy looked at her askance. The dead eyes of her mask stared back blankly. Between its glossy white planes, and the angular silhouette of her jacket and trousers, there was little to distinguish her from the corpses, to his sight.
"Are you trying to be funny?" He frowned, the veins of his wings darkening.
Gray set the skull down and straightened up. "I was trying to lighten the mood," she sighed. "But I can see you'd rather keep it strictly business."
"Indeed. We've a task to see to." Alroy turned and strode forward. Behind him, he heard Gray's lighter footsteps as she followed. The cave's darkness closed around the two fairies and pressed in, swallowing up sound and light before they reached more than a few yards.
"Perhaps you should dampen your light." Even in the deep darkness, Alroy could see no glimmer of Gray's anima; the gremlin was nothing more than a dim outline at the edge of his glow.
"Perhaps you should learn to be more brave. We elves are not afraid to show our faces, even to our enemies." He peered into the gloom, trying to see what lay beyond it.
"The Court of Glass is different. I wouldn't expect you to understand." Gray's voice was quiet and level, not rising to his barb. "But caution is never amiss, especially in an enemy's place of power."
Alroy nodded. "I feel it, too." Out in the dark, he could feel a presence, pushing against his anima. Not the calculating, smoky heat of a drake; it churned and crawled unwholesomely, like a mass of worms. His sword cleared its sheath with a sigh of glass on leather.
"Show yourself!" he called. "I am the Knight of the Briar, sworn servant to her majesty the Queen of Flowers. Whatever manner of man, ghost, or spirit you be, I fear you not. Let me look upon the face of my opponent!"
The unseen presence was still, as if considering his words. Alroy stood tall, holding his sword loose but ready. He waited.
After a minute, the darkness thinned, retreating before his aura as its unnatural density drained away. The tunnel had opened up into a round cavern, its walls and floor polished smooth by years of the dragon's coming and going. His crimson light sparkled on gold and silver and glittering gems, and scales. Iridescent blue and black, scattered amid the riches. Mounded up around the clean-picked bones in the center of the hoard. Jutting ribs still attached to crested vertebrae, winding around the chamber to the long, horned skull, where the shadows cast by his glow darkened and deepened and twisted, distorting into coiling barbed shapes which gathered and licked at the feet of the dark figure seated atop the snout.
The fairy grinned a grin filled with jagged white teeth, fly wings crinkling as she carelessly rose to her feet. "Well," he said. "You're certainly very... shiny."
Alroy's lip curled. "What business do you have here, vermin?"
"Not very polite, though." The goblin pouted. Lithe and olive-skinned, she might have been beautiful despite being dressed in filthy rags, if not for her pestilent anima. It buzzed and swarmed against Alroy's sparkling aura like flies. "But that's all right. You're sparkly enough that I can forgive you. I like sparkly things." She kicked through the treasure strewn on the floor, happily scattering coins and scales like a child shuffling through a pile of autumn leaves.
Alroy took a step forward. She whipped around into a wary crouch, wings splayed. "Careful, shiny elf," she warned. "That big knife of yours makes me a little... bit... edgy."
"This is not your place, goblin," said Alroy. "I seek no quarrel with you, but I must insist that you return to your own house."
"Not your place, either, elf," the carrion fairy pointed out. "And I was here first. Don't be a sore loser just because I got the dragon before you did." She licked her lips. "Probably leave anyway before too long. Those men and their horses were good eating, but they stopped coming. Maybe they figured out that just because the dragon was gone, didn't mean there wasn't anything watching the treasure. I'm getting kind of hungry."
"Monster," sneered Alroy.
"At least us flies are honest about it." She shrugged. "So, are we going to fight or what?"
"If you swear to return to the Court of Flies and do no harm to any man or beast along the way," said Alroy, "I will let you leave this place in peace."
The goblin rolled her eyes. "Please. You came here wanting to slay a dragon, you must have your blood all up. I bet you were glad to see me here instead. So much more satisfying to slap around a grubby little goblin, makes you feel so much more righteous than murdering the worm so you can steal his gold."
"You claim to have killed and eaten the dragon who lived here," the knight noted, "which makes me think you're a bit more than a poor little goblin, to be easily slapped around."
"Want to find out, pretty boy?" Her toothy grin was disturbingly wide. "I'm waiting here for someone, and I don't feel like missing them on account of a prissy butterfly. And like I said... I'm getting a little hungry." She ostentatiously cracked her neck. Her talons slid in and out, shiny and white as her teeth, as she flexed her fingers.
Alroy's boots scuffed against stone as he planted his feet. Shards of red light coruscated from his sword's glass blade as he raised it to point at the goblin's heart. "I offer you one last chance. Leave this place peacefully, or taste my blade."
"Rather taste something else of yours," she leered, "if you catch my meaning."
"So be it, vermin." Alroy narrowed his eyes and gathered his anima close about himself, preparing to meet the goblin's attack. "Prepare to die."
"Finally, let's get down to busi-whoa whoa whoah!" The goblin pulled herself up short, eyes wide. A fat drop of blood dribbled down her neck, from the point of the knife pressed to it.
"I'd tell you to drop your weapons," said Gray, "but since that would be a little difficult to accomplish, how about we just go with you not moving instead."
Some junk I jotted down last night. A few different types of fairies, doing some stuff that I haven't bothered figuring out the meaning of. Writing dialogue-heavy scenes makes me feel lazy, because it takes virtually no effort. It's probably why I fall back on characters delivering big chunks of exposition so often (not here; in general).
I'm thinking the goblin should maybe have a stronger dialect. I'm sort of hearing her with a Cockney accent. Gray was originally going to talk in a very clipped, technical way, but I decided to make her more colloquial, both to contrast with Alroy's formal language and to highlight his inability to read her mood.
I wish the word "gremlin" weren't so strongly associated with the movie. The type of creature Gray is supposed to be isn't an extremely strong match to airplane-sabotaging WWII gremlins, but it sure fits a lot better than murderous, hydrophobic, bat-eared monsters.
The goblin needs a name; I got as far as looking up various genus and species names for flies last night, but none of them really clicked.