"where the breathing of the vanished lies in acres round your feet" - Wild Roses Wars, ConalltaennynAugust 5 2010, 20:04:26 UTC
"Sometimes at night--and by then hardly anyone felt safe walking the forest's edge at night, but some still did, walking home from lovers' houses or at long journey's ends--they could hear the wind in the forest's arms speaking, sighing with lover's voices and the breathing of the missing..."
He paused in the darkness, fur beginning to stand on end, before he recognised the story-teller's voice and the variation on the story and carefully shook himself and went back on his way. The sentry shift wouldn't happen on its own, and he knew the Bone-witch's tale already.
"brambles" - VasilisataennynAugust 5 2010, 20:48:24 UTC
(Not very far before an ominous lightShe almost had to turn back more than once, the old overgrown path blocked by fallen trees or a tangle of brambles. But the doll reminded her that it was alright to climb trees, if she needed to--though she didn't say how odd it was that such good wood was lying here unharvested to rot--and that the season meant the brambles were overflowing with fruit
( ... )
"sand between one's toes" - Deaths, Julian De'Ath, the brotherstaennynAugust 5 2010, 22:46:03 UTC
Her first step onto the sand was, perhaps, unnecessarily cautious, but that was no cause for her laughing father to sweep her off her feet entirely and wander down to the sea, her uncle trailing them at a distance.
"Down!" she protested, and her father complied, setting her down more than halfway to the water with no familiar stone or dirt to set her feet on in order to better contrast the sand's consistency with them.
She scowled down at her feet, and the sand between her bare toes, then took a tentative step--sideways to the water and the rocks they'd come from--feeling how her feet sank and shifted beneath her. Took another step, consideringly, and then went for the back of her uncle's knees in a rush that brought him full length into the sand with her crowing triumph above him.
Her uncle drew a breath, then rolled onto his back--she scrambled out of the way so he couldn't grab her--and eyed her father. "Your kid," he said, and her father started laughing again.
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He paused in the darkness, fur beginning to stand on end, before he recognised the story-teller's voice and the variation on the story and carefully shook himself and went back on his way. The sentry shift wouldn't happen on its own, and he knew the Bone-witch's tale already.
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(.. hunh. sounds an interesting song.)
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It's still buggering creepy. Especially here.
the doll laughed, just a little, and held up the edges of her pretty skirt like a basket, smiling up at Vasilisa.
And this line is just awesome.
She couldn't forget why she was out here--people who did that in the stories tended not to come back out of the woods.
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*draws little heart-marks around the line.*
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"Down!" she protested, and her father complied, setting her down more than halfway to the water with no familiar stone or dirt to set her feet on in order to better contrast the sand's consistency with them.
She scowled down at her feet, and the sand between her bare toes, then took a tentative step--sideways to the water and the rocks they'd come from--feeling how her feet sank and shifted beneath her. Took another step, consideringly, and then went for the back of her uncle's knees in a rush that brought him full length into the sand with her crowing triumph above him.
Her uncle drew a breath, then rolled onto his back--she scrambled out of the way so he couldn't grab her--and eyed her father. "Your kid," he said, and her father started laughing again.
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And fierce. But that's to be expected.
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