Fiction by association.
Mar. 1st, 2004 07:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
runicloreI use words to inspire these ficlets, but more often than not my mind takes me on a tangent only slightly related.
[The word: Templar]
'Declare the breadth of the universe. The world's name is Adamah, the cosmic ancestor. The seal is 'Adonai'.'
It was a lot of religious nonsense, no question about it. Mystical, obscure nonsense. If Sylvana were paid for every time she opened a book to find passages like this, she would be rich. In all honesty, she would prefer the money.
That's why she was outside in the blistering heat tracing diagrams in the dirt, right? Of course.
There were many things wrong with this picture, not the least of which was the lack of good, solid ground to use for the magic circle. If she were serious about summoning, that wouldn't do at all. Everyone knew that calling upon immensely powerful, easily-annoyed spiritual beings was insane without the proper protections. Yet there she was, drawing her circle in the sand, because unluckily for her, there was no concrete in her backyard, and no such thing as hard-packed mud in the sandpit her parents had decided to raise her in.
Just watch a sandstorm kick up during the ritual. They would find her in pieces all over the yard - assuming it worked at all.
And what about her calculations? The book called for specific numbers, but logic told her that, whatever the book said, if she wanted to declare the breadth of the universe, modern astronomy probably had more to say about it than some old nutter who lived in a cave five thousand years ago.
"I can't believe I'm doing this," she muttered for the thousandth time, pausing to swipe her hand across her eyes. It was so bright; that was the point, to perform potentially weird ceremonies like this in the blinding daylight, when no one would notice another flash on the off chance that it actually worked. Conducting magic rituals at night was so cliche.
It was also the quickest way to get the Templars on her back. The mere mention of magic outside of the perscribed zones made them twitchy.
This isn't going to work, though. It doesn't matter. She closed the book and heaved it to the side. It landed in a puff of white dust just outside the circle.
Rumor had it the priests had practiced celestial magic for ages. No one was pointing guns at them, but then again, they were priests. If whirling lights and sonorous voices popped up around the chapels, people called them miracles. If a display like that sprang up in someone's backyard, it was called heresy.
I'm -such- an idiot. Oh, what she would do for a dare.
--------------------------------------------
[The word: Disguise]
In and out. Round and about. Ra's hair slid through the little girl's fingers like silk, fine and black like the funeral shroud Anubis wore during the dedications of new mines. She had seen three now, which was more than even someone as old as her mother must have seen. Her mother still thought the stars were specks of quartz in the sky, glittering in the light of this god before her.
The gathering of hair nearly slipped from her fingers and she gasped before she could stop herself, stilling her hands and closing her fingers around it before it could fall and slap to his back again, wet and unpleasant. The boy pharoah tilted his head, turning as if to look back at her, and she whispered a quick apology, sorting the strands out again and continuing her weave.
She had not pulled, and thank goodness, or there would have been a stinging slap instead.
He said something - 'hurry' she thought, though it was still slurred by his odd accent - and she tried to move her fingers faster. The other girls were better for this. They were older, and prettier, and their fingers were more graceful. Hers looked stubby, and she knew it.
Why did the pharoah want her to do this? Her hands shook as she took a silk band from the boy standing behind her and wrapped it tightly around the end of the braid, tying it hastily.
Mother said it was important to gain his favor and tell her what she saw. The pharoah said she would never see her mother again. It made her sad sometimes, but she could barely remember her mother now. She couldn't decide now whether her mother's command should still be obeyed. The pharoah knew best, didn't he? He was a god.
Carefully she rested the braid against his back and let the boy pull her away so the pharoah could rise. Face properly downcast, she tried to catch her companion's eyes while the slither of a velvet dressing gown and the clink of beads tried to bring her attention back to the pharoah. She obeyed their call, because it was wrong to ignore him, even if he wasn't paying attention himself.
She sensed him coming closer, and watched the glimmer of the gold beads on his sandals. It still fascinated her, how rich everything here was, when the home she remembered was always dusty and drab. She felt like that when he looked at her - dusty, drab, and beneath notice. He hadn't given her a name yet, because only those of exceptional beauty were given names, and the one she'd had from birth meant nothing here.
But he noticed her now. The startling chill of the gold wrappings on his fingers pressed into her chin as he bade her to look up. She obeyed, because one just didn't say no, and her neck craned almost all the way back just so she could look into his eyes. They were dark. In the bedchamber's dim light, they were so dark that light didn't even reflect from their surface. She tried not to bite her lip. He'd told her once that was an ugly thing to do, and she'd never done it again.
Was she in trouble? Had her mistake angered him? His face was smooth. It always was, and no one could ever tell what he was thinking - not until it was too late.
His eyebrows curved up and it seemed almost that he smiled, but he so rarely did it that she couldn't tell. the pharoah released her chin and turned away, and she tried not to breathe too quickly until he was at his bed and shedding the robe, too far away to hear. The sound of the pyramid ship drowned out little things like breathing, as long as one was far enough away.
She was still looking up. As soon as she realized it, she snapped her chin down again. She wanted to keep watching - that's what she'd been told to do, watch - but he disliked it when they watched him sleep, so she kept her head down and tried to imagine what he would think if she prayed to him that he never notice her again.
(Jaye Davidson is only 5'3" according to the IMDB. That's so short! Ha. I notice, reading this again, that I didn't pay any attention to what would surely be awesome beauty for a peasant in this canon, but... it didn't seem important. And once again, my interpretation of the word is rather obscure. Go figure.)
--------------------------------------------
[The word: Unusual]
"Lawfer, Lawfer..." The arm sliding around his shoulders was heavy, and more dangerous than a Yamato python. "You gotta loosen up... yanno?"
He stared into Aelia's round green eyes, leaning back by instinct even though it was nearly impossible to budge at all with her grip on his shoulder. She looked soft, but he knew well she could heave him out the tavern window without breaking a sweat if she really wanted to.
She pressed their noses together, and he tried not to squeak. "Whaddya say?" The barkeep must have poisoned her - it was more than a little unusual to see her get drunk.
"Ah..." Wasn't her so-called dragonian blood supposed to burn this stuff off? Lawfer shuddered. "I think I'll, ah, pass..." He'd not like to wake up and find her spear in his ribs. Why him? Why in the name of the gods had she not clung to Kashell? They knew each other better.
A quick glance over her head revealed Kashell slumped over the table. He couldn't find Celia, but the other tables seemed to be empty. The barkeep was nowhere to be found.
That didn't bode well. What in Hel's name was going on?
(I like Lawfer, but I can't write him to save my life. Not that I tried very hard for a fifteen minute snippet. ^^ What the hell was I thinking? I couldn't get it out of my head. There's even a simple storyline mapped out in my head, but I doubt I'll write more of this.)
Edit 10/04/05:
Removed the original, which will be archived Friends Only. Sorry about that.
[The word: Templar]
'Declare the breadth of the universe. The world's name is Adamah, the cosmic ancestor. The seal is 'Adonai'.'
It was a lot of religious nonsense, no question about it. Mystical, obscure nonsense. If Sylvana were paid for every time she opened a book to find passages like this, she would be rich. In all honesty, she would prefer the money.
That's why she was outside in the blistering heat tracing diagrams in the dirt, right? Of course.
There were many things wrong with this picture, not the least of which was the lack of good, solid ground to use for the magic circle. If she were serious about summoning, that wouldn't do at all. Everyone knew that calling upon immensely powerful, easily-annoyed spiritual beings was insane without the proper protections. Yet there she was, drawing her circle in the sand, because unluckily for her, there was no concrete in her backyard, and no such thing as hard-packed mud in the sandpit her parents had decided to raise her in.
Just watch a sandstorm kick up during the ritual. They would find her in pieces all over the yard - assuming it worked at all.
And what about her calculations? The book called for specific numbers, but logic told her that, whatever the book said, if she wanted to declare the breadth of the universe, modern astronomy probably had more to say about it than some old nutter who lived in a cave five thousand years ago.
"I can't believe I'm doing this," she muttered for the thousandth time, pausing to swipe her hand across her eyes. It was so bright; that was the point, to perform potentially weird ceremonies like this in the blinding daylight, when no one would notice another flash on the off chance that it actually worked. Conducting magic rituals at night was so cliche.
It was also the quickest way to get the Templars on her back. The mere mention of magic outside of the perscribed zones made them twitchy.
This isn't going to work, though. It doesn't matter. She closed the book and heaved it to the side. It landed in a puff of white dust just outside the circle.
Rumor had it the priests had practiced celestial magic for ages. No one was pointing guns at them, but then again, they were priests. If whirling lights and sonorous voices popped up around the chapels, people called them miracles. If a display like that sprang up in someone's backyard, it was called heresy.
I'm -such- an idiot. Oh, what she would do for a dare.
--------------------------------------------
[The word: Disguise]
In and out. Round and about. Ra's hair slid through the little girl's fingers like silk, fine and black like the funeral shroud Anubis wore during the dedications of new mines. She had seen three now, which was more than even someone as old as her mother must have seen. Her mother still thought the stars were specks of quartz in the sky, glittering in the light of this god before her.
The gathering of hair nearly slipped from her fingers and she gasped before she could stop herself, stilling her hands and closing her fingers around it before it could fall and slap to his back again, wet and unpleasant. The boy pharoah tilted his head, turning as if to look back at her, and she whispered a quick apology, sorting the strands out again and continuing her weave.
She had not pulled, and thank goodness, or there would have been a stinging slap instead.
He said something - 'hurry' she thought, though it was still slurred by his odd accent - and she tried to move her fingers faster. The other girls were better for this. They were older, and prettier, and their fingers were more graceful. Hers looked stubby, and she knew it.
Why did the pharoah want her to do this? Her hands shook as she took a silk band from the boy standing behind her and wrapped it tightly around the end of the braid, tying it hastily.
Mother said it was important to gain his favor and tell her what she saw. The pharoah said she would never see her mother again. It made her sad sometimes, but she could barely remember her mother now. She couldn't decide now whether her mother's command should still be obeyed. The pharoah knew best, didn't he? He was a god.
Carefully she rested the braid against his back and let the boy pull her away so the pharoah could rise. Face properly downcast, she tried to catch her companion's eyes while the slither of a velvet dressing gown and the clink of beads tried to bring her attention back to the pharoah. She obeyed their call, because it was wrong to ignore him, even if he wasn't paying attention himself.
She sensed him coming closer, and watched the glimmer of the gold beads on his sandals. It still fascinated her, how rich everything here was, when the home she remembered was always dusty and drab. She felt like that when he looked at her - dusty, drab, and beneath notice. He hadn't given her a name yet, because only those of exceptional beauty were given names, and the one she'd had from birth meant nothing here.
But he noticed her now. The startling chill of the gold wrappings on his fingers pressed into her chin as he bade her to look up. She obeyed, because one just didn't say no, and her neck craned almost all the way back just so she could look into his eyes. They were dark. In the bedchamber's dim light, they were so dark that light didn't even reflect from their surface. She tried not to bite her lip. He'd told her once that was an ugly thing to do, and she'd never done it again.
Was she in trouble? Had her mistake angered him? His face was smooth. It always was, and no one could ever tell what he was thinking - not until it was too late.
His eyebrows curved up and it seemed almost that he smiled, but he so rarely did it that she couldn't tell. the pharoah released her chin and turned away, and she tried not to breathe too quickly until he was at his bed and shedding the robe, too far away to hear. The sound of the pyramid ship drowned out little things like breathing, as long as one was far enough away.
She was still looking up. As soon as she realized it, she snapped her chin down again. She wanted to keep watching - that's what she'd been told to do, watch - but he disliked it when they watched him sleep, so she kept her head down and tried to imagine what he would think if she prayed to him that he never notice her again.
(Jaye Davidson is only 5'3" according to the IMDB. That's so short! Ha. I notice, reading this again, that I didn't pay any attention to what would surely be awesome beauty for a peasant in this canon, but... it didn't seem important. And once again, my interpretation of the word is rather obscure. Go figure.)
--------------------------------------------
[The word: Unusual]
"Lawfer, Lawfer..." The arm sliding around his shoulders was heavy, and more dangerous than a Yamato python. "You gotta loosen up... yanno?"
He stared into Aelia's round green eyes, leaning back by instinct even though it was nearly impossible to budge at all with her grip on his shoulder. She looked soft, but he knew well she could heave him out the tavern window without breaking a sweat if she really wanted to.
She pressed their noses together, and he tried not to squeak. "Whaddya say?" The barkeep must have poisoned her - it was more than a little unusual to see her get drunk.
"Ah..." Wasn't her so-called dragonian blood supposed to burn this stuff off? Lawfer shuddered. "I think I'll, ah, pass..." He'd not like to wake up and find her spear in his ribs. Why him? Why in the name of the gods had she not clung to Kashell? They knew each other better.
A quick glance over her head revealed Kashell slumped over the table. He couldn't find Celia, but the other tables seemed to be empty. The barkeep was nowhere to be found.
That didn't bode well. What in Hel's name was going on?
(I like Lawfer, but I can't write him to save my life. Not that I tried very hard for a fifteen minute snippet. ^^ What the hell was I thinking? I couldn't get it out of my head. There's even a simple storyline mapped out in my head, but I doubt I'll write more of this.)
Edit 10/04/05:
Removed the original, which will be archived Friends Only. Sorry about that.