As I enter the minefield of drabble-dom .. ;D (for the 100 prompts)
Underworld dabbles, as my first foray into the 100 themes --
Ye gods, I think they attacked en masse ... *twitches*
Themes: 11. "red"; 12. "orange"; 13. "yellow"; 14. "green"; 15. "blue"; 16. "purple"; 17. "brown"; 18. "black"; 19. "white"; 20. "colourless"
Wordcounts: 11 -- 100; 12 -- 87; 13 -- 98; 14 -- 112; 15 -- 101; 16 -- 114; 17 -- 116; 18 -- 107; 19 -- 100; 20 -- 107
Characters: 11. Basilisk Sylphid; 12. Lykaeon Phlegyas; 13. Sphinx Pharaoh; 14. Alraune Queen; 15. Hypnos; 16. Papillion Myu; 17. Deep Niobe; 18. Gryphon Minos, Hades; 19. Balrog Lune; 20. the fallen Gold Saints
Disclaimers: I own not these characters nor their details nor story. More's the pity *chuckles*
11.“red”
There is nothing quite like it --
The sudden swift cleaving through shining armour and frail flesh,
the surge of victory singing through his war-tense soul,
the scattering splashing waves of purest crimson
as a fool's life is spilled out across the pitiless earth.
Nothing quite like it; and nothing pleased Sylphid more
than to be awash in slick scarlet, the wine-sweet drops
clinging to his glittering night-dark panoply
and scattered in bright sprays at his feet.
This, this was the sweetest, surest triumph.
For the glory of the Unseen King, the world entire will bathe in blood.
12.“orange”
In the fires of Acheron did Phlegyas ply his trade, wolf-wild
and sharp as obsidian razors amongst the ember-bright magma,
the brilliance of the sluggish waves of the endless Lake of Fire.
Against the unending glow even his Surplice could seem to smoulder,
his storm-pale hair cast as garish as any blazing torch --
and for those delivered to him for punishment, his scream was burning agony.
Here in the gleaming deeps all was the brilliance of flame,
and Phlegyas did so enjoy his work.
13.“yellow”
Like pale spun gold it is, brilliant as the amber teardrops
that sinners once bled over;
warm and shining as the lost sun of the living,
as the false sun he had crafted to trap this precious jewel,
as the burning saffron of his own riddling beast's eyes.
One endless night soon enough,
Pharaoh mused silently
as he stalked the damned in his court --
beast who weighed the hearts of men --
I will bury my hands in that brilliant golden mane,
and in that moment the wayward silver harpist
will at last be broken.
14.“green”
Such a pity, all this wasted on a savage.
Queen gazed upon the fey and verdant garden sprawling wild
beyond the Sphinx's judgement-hall;
spared a moment to glide wordlessly past the weeping marble beauty,
and knelt to search amongst the shivering leaves and blossoms for a moment.
In a sea of jade and palest emerald,
somewhere in this riot
there must surely be --
Ah, there
Chuckling to himself, the Alraune wrapped fingers firmly about a sturdy stalk,
stroked the jade-black leaves once, and pulled.
No mandrake's fatal scream did he fear, no --
but to steal unused power from the Sphinx's feral garden; that was a pleasure.
15.“blue”
For the briefest of moments -- for an eternity --
Hypnos gazed upward to the false heavens above,
the deep unblemished azure of Elysium's celestial vault
'make a Heaven of Hell, or Hell a Heaven' ... wise little mortal ...
-- a colour as patently false as the timeless paradise he was now trapped in.
To see the cerulean skies of Olympos, now,
or the roiling cobalt storm of the restless seas;
that would be a pleasant thing, but it was not to be.
And so he waited now, sleep-bringing captive,
and waited for the pleasure of the battlefield's blue skies.
16.“purple”
Always strange, so Myu mused, as he shivered stained-glass wings
and called his inhuman troops to order, how perception could twist ...
The Romans made the purple a symbol of authority, of empire;
and so it went, from the robes of the Church to the amethysts of kings --
and yet the purpura was a red, a rose-violet at best
instead of the so-cherished twilight colour sought for all those years.
The truth hid itself behind a slip of the tongue, a clever mirage;
and so -- as his willowy frame shifted to something more monstrous --
did the Fey Star appreciate the lesson to be learned.
17.“brown”
It would be pleasant to tear and dig down within the living earth,
Niobe reflected; to feel rich loam and heavy clays beneath the claws of Deep,
to burrow within the soft sable skin of Gaia
instead of the harsh and barren stone of Erebos.
At that, it might be amusing to let that dark dun soil cling and stain him,
just to see the affronted outrage of the Wyvern
as he left muddy trails across the flagstones of the empty manor-house ...
Oh, surely he would be flayed if he were to burst through the paving-stones,
once-shining armour coated dull and dirty --
and yet, that moment would be so worth it ...
18.“black”
Proud though he be, to the greater darkness
Minos would bend the knee, and willingly so;
and to that deeper dark he did so now,
with head bowed low and gaze downcast.
Sixfold shadowed wings stirred and struck
glittering sparks dark as the night, as the great mane
of midnight silk rustled in the deathly winds.
Darkness incarnate, flawless and imperishable.
And then the master of the dead lifted the great soul-cutting blade
to rest it lightly on the Gryphon's shoulder.
:: Look at me, First Judge. ::
Minos lifted his head slowly to stare into the Void,
the endless pit of those all-devouring eyes ...
19.“white”
Balrog left to glower warningly behind the bleached and weighty lectern,
Lune retired to leaf amongst the ashen records and divine the extent
of his last subject's sinful transgressions.
Milk-pale hands flew over the brittle bleached parchments of those damned souls,
pushed ivory hair irritably out of the moon-bright eyes
as the Prosecutor worked his way through the stacks and left the Skeleton behind.
The task should have been simple; a death by endless snows explicable ...
At last, at last the needed tome was found;
and Lune settled himself with bone-pen and ash to transcribe the proceedings.
20.“colourless”
A rude awakening from half-remembered agonies, and there they stood,
wan Saintly shades clothed rudely into bloodless flesh
and the carapaces of glittering dead adamant locked around them
as their fetters and sharp chains;
torment remembered, reflected still in the cold flat eyes,
and even as they reached out one to another the brightness of
the living world fled, was lost to their damned sight.
All the world bled a dry husk before them then;
with barely a moment to mourn before the silk-soft purr
of the Gryphon tore their attention to the wraith-like
souls of the Court, and they sealed their fate again.
Ye gods, I think they attacked en masse ... *twitches*
Themes: 11. "red"; 12. "orange"; 13. "yellow"; 14. "green"; 15. "blue"; 16. "purple"; 17. "brown"; 18. "black"; 19. "white"; 20. "colourless"
Wordcounts: 11 -- 100; 12 -- 87; 13 -- 98; 14 -- 112; 15 -- 101; 16 -- 114; 17 -- 116; 18 -- 107; 19 -- 100; 20 -- 107
Characters: 11. Basilisk Sylphid; 12. Lykaeon Phlegyas; 13. Sphinx Pharaoh; 14. Alraune Queen; 15. Hypnos; 16. Papillion Myu; 17. Deep Niobe; 18. Gryphon Minos, Hades; 19. Balrog Lune; 20. the fallen Gold Saints
Disclaimers: I own not these characters nor their details nor story. More's the pity *chuckles*
11.“red”
There is nothing quite like it --
The sudden swift cleaving through shining armour and frail flesh,
the surge of victory singing through his war-tense soul,
the scattering splashing waves of purest crimson
as a fool's life is spilled out across the pitiless earth.
Nothing quite like it; and nothing pleased Sylphid more
than to be awash in slick scarlet, the wine-sweet drops
clinging to his glittering night-dark panoply
and scattered in bright sprays at his feet.
This, this was the sweetest, surest triumph.
For the glory of the Unseen King, the world entire will bathe in blood.
12.“orange”
In the fires of Acheron did Phlegyas ply his trade, wolf-wild
and sharp as obsidian razors amongst the ember-bright magma,
the brilliance of the sluggish waves of the endless Lake of Fire.
Against the unending glow even his Surplice could seem to smoulder,
his storm-pale hair cast as garish as any blazing torch --
and for those delivered to him for punishment, his scream was burning agony.
Here in the gleaming deeps all was the brilliance of flame,
and Phlegyas did so enjoy his work.
13.“yellow”
Like pale spun gold it is, brilliant as the amber teardrops
that sinners once bled over;
warm and shining as the lost sun of the living,
as the false sun he had crafted to trap this precious jewel,
as the burning saffron of his own riddling beast's eyes.
One endless night soon enough,
Pharaoh mused silently
as he stalked the damned in his court --
beast who weighed the hearts of men --
I will bury my hands in that brilliant golden mane,
and in that moment the wayward silver harpist
will at last be broken.
14.“green”
Such a pity, all this wasted on a savage.
Queen gazed upon the fey and verdant garden sprawling wild
beyond the Sphinx's judgement-hall;
spared a moment to glide wordlessly past the weeping marble beauty,
and knelt to search amongst the shivering leaves and blossoms for a moment.
In a sea of jade and palest emerald,
somewhere in this riot
there must surely be --
Ah, there
Chuckling to himself, the Alraune wrapped fingers firmly about a sturdy stalk,
stroked the jade-black leaves once, and pulled.
No mandrake's fatal scream did he fear, no --
but to steal unused power from the Sphinx's feral garden; that was a pleasure.
15.“blue”
For the briefest of moments -- for an eternity --
Hypnos gazed upward to the false heavens above,
the deep unblemished azure of Elysium's celestial vault
'make a Heaven of Hell, or Hell a Heaven' ... wise little mortal ...
-- a colour as patently false as the timeless paradise he was now trapped in.
To see the cerulean skies of Olympos, now,
or the roiling cobalt storm of the restless seas;
that would be a pleasant thing, but it was not to be.
And so he waited now, sleep-bringing captive,
and waited for the pleasure of the battlefield's blue skies.
16.“purple”
Always strange, so Myu mused, as he shivered stained-glass wings
and called his inhuman troops to order, how perception could twist ...
The Romans made the purple a symbol of authority, of empire;
and so it went, from the robes of the Church to the amethysts of kings --
and yet the purpura was a red, a rose-violet at best
instead of the so-cherished twilight colour sought for all those years.
The truth hid itself behind a slip of the tongue, a clever mirage;
and so -- as his willowy frame shifted to something more monstrous --
did the Fey Star appreciate the lesson to be learned.
17.“brown”
It would be pleasant to tear and dig down within the living earth,
Niobe reflected; to feel rich loam and heavy clays beneath the claws of Deep,
to burrow within the soft sable skin of Gaia
instead of the harsh and barren stone of Erebos.
At that, it might be amusing to let that dark dun soil cling and stain him,
just to see the affronted outrage of the Wyvern
as he left muddy trails across the flagstones of the empty manor-house ...
Oh, surely he would be flayed if he were to burst through the paving-stones,
once-shining armour coated dull and dirty --
and yet, that moment would be so worth it ...
18.“black”
Proud though he be, to the greater darkness
Minos would bend the knee, and willingly so;
and to that deeper dark he did so now,
with head bowed low and gaze downcast.
Sixfold shadowed wings stirred and struck
glittering sparks dark as the night, as the great mane
of midnight silk rustled in the deathly winds.
Darkness incarnate, flawless and imperishable.
And then the master of the dead lifted the great soul-cutting blade
to rest it lightly on the Gryphon's shoulder.
:: Look at me, First Judge. ::
Minos lifted his head slowly to stare into the Void,
the endless pit of those all-devouring eyes ...
19.“white”
Balrog left to glower warningly behind the bleached and weighty lectern,
Lune retired to leaf amongst the ashen records and divine the extent
of his last subject's sinful transgressions.
Milk-pale hands flew over the brittle bleached parchments of those damned souls,
pushed ivory hair irritably out of the moon-bright eyes
as the Prosecutor worked his way through the stacks and left the Skeleton behind.
The task should have been simple; a death by endless snows explicable ...
At last, at last the needed tome was found;
and Lune settled himself with bone-pen and ash to transcribe the proceedings.
20.“colourless”
A rude awakening from half-remembered agonies, and there they stood,
wan Saintly shades clothed rudely into bloodless flesh
and the carapaces of glittering dead adamant locked around them
as their fetters and sharp chains;
torment remembered, reflected still in the cold flat eyes,
and even as they reached out one to another the brightness of
the living world fled, was lost to their damned sight.
All the world bled a dry husk before them then;
with barely a moment to mourn before the silk-soft purr
of the Gryphon tore their attention to the wraith-like
souls of the Court, and they sealed their fate again.