The Dragon Is In The Details

The static sizzled on the ship’s radio, the only lifeline between it and the deepest diving maned submersible beneath it. They had chosen this part of the Abyssal Plain seemingly at random, as far as the ship’s captain could tell. A desert under the sea...

And damn near the whole science team, and maybe more of the crew than was safe, were listening intently, watching the equally static-filled video.

“...doctor Carver, repeat. Did you say...”

“--t’s like a giant...crop circle, right there in the silt! The curves of the circle is incredibly regular! The rising and falling features are...well I haven’t done the full circle, but they seem perfectly even as well! This is unprecedented! This is...”

On the screen the static lessened intermittently, giving them only glimpses of what the submersible was seeing. The circle on the screen did indeed seem unusually regular, the path of the curve of it smooth and undented by debris or imperfections.

it was the most unnatural thing the captain had ever seen.

It was just wrong.

“Wait” the doctor whispered distractedly “turn into the circle, right there, do you see that?”

The camera turned towards the inner side of the circle, the light blocked by rising and falling hills of long-settled silt. These rising and falling features were also regular, almost geometric. It was like looking at a deliberately designed mountain range stretching beyond their feeble floodlights’ reach...

The camera zoomed in.

“No, back up, doN’T DISTURB THE--”

The submersible’s thrust made the silt rise, and everyone inhaled sharply. The waters in the Abyssal Plain moved so little and so slowly that it was estimated that the layers of tiny debris and silt could very well have remained undisturbed for years and years. Shaking it up now felt almost...sacrilegious.

And beneath a thin, dusty layer, were glassy reflections.

What?

“What...” the sizzling static voices echoed, “what...is that...glass?”

Everyone crowded around the screen, but said nothing.

The captain’s brain was in overdrive despite his silence and stillness.

That, he thought with disbelief, looks like volcanic glass.

Smooth, black, flawlessly reflective. No scratches, no dents or chipping.

Again, too perfect.

Wrong.

“Uuuuuhhh, captain?” the ensign on radar called out to him from a different radio, “we’re getting a signal that doesn’t make any sense--”

The captain had had enough, his stomach sinking and heart racing as he radioed the dive team suddenly:  “Carver, Cress, get back topside now.”

“What?! But this is--” Carver objected.

“Cress, that’s an order. Do it now!”

DWONG!

The video cut out, the radio screeched before also falling silent, and the whole ship rocked from what felt like and unending impact and shaking, shaking, everyone tumbling!--

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duh-duh-DUUUUUHHHHH!!!

Inspired by these beauties:

With the artist pictured here at the bottom left! A small puffer fish trying to impress a lady. The things we do for love!

Here’s one with a diver and the puffer fish in the middle for scale:

So of course, when you have a wild imagination like mine...extrapolating to the extreme is easy! Maybe the ship will get lucky and there WON’T be an eldritch monstrosity coming for them because they disturbed its art piece XD

Maybe.

I was tagged by @silvershears for the last 7 lines of a WIP so here’s some from my latest, The Outer Reach. The captain of a patrolling ship meets their new crewmate, and this person proves to be quite unusual...

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The water tank was huge to Zanderei’s eyes, and the faint blue-green light it glowed with was at once lovely and eerie. They had known it would be large and needy on the power systems, but the promised payoff of a new way to facilitate Painkiller work had made its presence worth it. At least, they hope so.

Distracted by the presence of a large body of water on their ship, Zanderei almost didn’t notice the large form off the side of their vision. Large, dark, and definitely not human.

“Hello, captain Lockland,” said a deep voice, “may I help you?”

Or at least, not humanoid.

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...yes, once again, something new XD

A scifi feature this time!

A potential start for a new story that will hopefully blossom into more!

So here’s an extremely rough draft of an important and revealing scene (I mean it when I say rough) (and today was not nice, so I lost a lot of motivational fuel during work, you have been warned)

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Siltsan only barely heard the knocking and bells at her home’s front door in midafternoon. She had been asleep, deeply, and had only gotten up after the bells rang again.

Who would come here during the day? Everyone in town knew she was part of the night shift and avoided waking her at midday. So who would…?

She walked groggily to the door, but when she opened it there was no-one there. Who had—

The bells rang next to her head, and she saw the tip of a long walking stick tangled among them. A very familiar walking stick…

It untangled itself from the bells as she stared at it, and she felt compelled to follow the stick as it vanished around the side of the house.

In the shade of the house, leaning against the wall, was a dark, large and hooded looming figure.

Siltsan’s heart skipped a beat before her mind caught up to her instinct to flee. Tarmer. Had to be.

But what was she doing here, and during midday? She could already feel a headache starting, and if she was already aching then Tarmer must be hurting. Had something happened?

“What” she heard herself stammer. “What’s wrong? Did something happen? Is it another—“

“No. There is no danger to the town.”

Her voice was so weary, why was she out? What could be so important that Tarmer would come to her?

“Then why…?”

Tarmer let her hood fall away, and her face was as weary as her voice. “There is something you must see, and we may not have another opportunity such as this again. Come.”

“Can I come too?”

Siltsan’s head whipped around to the bush next to her: there was Naki, hair a mess, hiding among the leaves.

“Naki…” she started, annoyed, head pounding. “This is—“

Tarmer raised her hand at her, stopping her words. “You may, Tser Naki, but I must insist that when I tell you can come no further, you must stop and stay.”

Naki burst out of the bush, eager and smiling, “You’ll forget I’m even there!”

“One can hardly forget such cheerful company as yours, Tser Naki,” Tarmer told her with a soft smile. “But your consideration is still much appreciated.”

Siltsan said nothing, her head pounding too hard to object. Tarmer covered her head with her hood again, and they left together in silence.

No one spoke and Tarmer did not tell them where they were going, but as they walked under trees for most of the way Siltsan eventually noticed that they were heading towards an open field. When they arrived the sun was at its peak in the sky, and the long grass, slowly turning golden, was shimmering in the sunshine. It stretched as far as the eye could see in olive-colored rolling hills, occasionally dotted with clusters of trees and large stones.

From the shade of the trees they stopped and took a moment to breathe, with Tarmer even taking the time to sit. Both Siltsan and Tarmer were sweating, but Naki only stood, quietly waiting for something to happen.

When even Siltsan started becoming impatient she turned to ask her why they had come, but stopped herself when she saw, and finally heard, how hard Tarmer was breathing. She cursed herself for not thinking to bring some water with her before they left.

But Naki, it seems, truly WAS prepared for anything, and she patted up to the Condor to offer her some from her favorite water skin.

She refused it wordlessly, but still smiled her gratitude as she motioned for her to offer the water to Siltsan.

She drank some, but wasn’t willing to drain it entirely. Best to leave some for later, in case whatever this was proved draining to Tarmer…

Who chose that moment to stand up, and discard her hooded long coat.

“Stay,” She told Naki, “no matter what you see.”

Naki seemed rooted in place, her usual playful defiance nowhere to be seen.

Tarmer turned to Siltsan, locking eyes with her.

“Watch,” she said firmly, “with all your senses.”

And then she walked out into the sun, trailing smoking shadows behind her…

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My my, what could possibly be going on?

Certainly neither Siltsan or Naki know...

Much love to @theticklishpear for all their support and tolerance for my moods and shenanigans <3 Hope this isn’t to frustrating in its complete absence of answered questions ;}

“They grounded you after you proved yourself truer to their false mandate than they ever have been. When you found yourself unable to obey them when they demanded you be just as false as they are...”

Got tagged by @silvershears and I decided to go with Vulture magic for this!

addiction | beauty | betrayal | change vs. tradition | chaos vs. order | circle of life | coming of age | communication | convention vs. rebellion | corruption | courage | crime and law | dangers of ignorance | darkness and light | death | desire to escape | dreams | displacement | empowerment | facing darkness | facing reality | faith vs. doubt | fall from grace | fame and fortune | family | fate | fear | fear of failure | free will | friendship | fulfillment | good vs. bad | government | greed | guilt and forgiveness | hard work | heroism | hierarchy | honesty | hope | identity crisis | immortality | independence | individual vs. society | inner vs. outer strength | innocence | injustice | isolation | knowledge vs. ignorance | life | loneliness | lost love | love | man vs. nature | manipulation | materialism | motherhood | nature | nature vs. nurture | oppression | optimism | peer pressure | poverty | power | power of words | prejudice | pride | progress | quest | racism | rebirth | relationships | religion | responsibility | revenge | sacrifice | secrets | self-awareness | self-preservation | self-reliance | sexuality | social class structure | survival | technology | temptation and destruction | time | totalitarianism | weakness | vanity | war | wealth | wisdom of experience | youth

Is that too many? Maybe...

Got tagged by @silvershears, thank you Pear! Here’s the last 7 lines I wrote from Vulture Magic...

Tarmer handed her the end of a rope before setting aside her staff, a layer of clothes, and reminding her “Head first, and follow the tug.”

She dove in. Watching Tarmer sink into the black water with nothing but a dim red glow was at once unsettling and enticing. So Siltsan gulped a deep lungful and dove after her.

Darkness, pure and liquid.

Got tagged by @silvershears for this after NaNo ended, sorry to be late in my answer! This one is short and dramatic because...well, the last line I wrote was exactly that, and a chapter end. Here it is:

It will rob you of your human eyes.

Excerpt from The Amber Season for a special occasion!

Today is Quinn’s birthday, and they just turning 10 years old. The birthday party the family had set up for them was the most beautiful thing they had ever seen: everything was covered in fall-colored leaves, from the tables to the ceiling lights, from the carpets to the shelves, and even the people there were dressed in autumn splendor. The foyer room was bathed in light of every shade of amber from innumerable candles and hearth fire, giving everything and everyone a warmth rarely seen any other time.

Quinn’s eyes fell in love with the room as they took it all in. The way the light of the candles flickered gold everywhere, the way the hearth cast dark shadows of everyone, the glittering of glasses, brass candelabras and copper dishes, the occasional purple clothes and leaves and wrapped gifts…

The chatter from the family seemed to flicker like the candles, soft and sometimes clinking with laughter. Everything in the room was suffused with the warm smell from the cake at the center of the table: a lemon and poppy seed monstrosity topped with a cinnamon butter icing and glazed with the traditional family-made golden maple syrup, unique in the world.

Quinn’s eyes searched the room for a moment, looking for their favorite cousin Annabelle. Today may be Quinn’s birthday, but in a few hours it would be Annabelle’s. They had both always reveled in their closeness, in person and in time, because it meant that the family often celebrated them together in an all-night party just like this one, and they were allowed to stay up as late as they wanted.

And there she was, close to the hearth and its light, and as was her usual, reading a book. When she looked up to see Quinn, she smiled and abandoned her reading. She ran over and grabbed their hand eagerly, with a look on her face that Quinn knew was one of somebody keeping a secret. She was up to something, and was going to tell them all about it.

It was magical, and Quinn wished they could immortalize this moment. Wished they could bottle it and carry it around with them forever, to be looked at in hard and sad times and remember a happier one…

Three strong knocks on the common room doors resounded suddenly, and everyone inside froze.

Quinn did not understand why, but they did understand the tension that filled the room. It was the kind of tension that adults exuded when there was something upsetting to them near, but that they did not want to face. Quinn and Annabelle tightened their grips on each other’s hands.

Another three knocks, stronger this time.

Nobody moved, but whispers were popping up everywhere around them. Some sounded annoyed, some alarmed. But most sounded disbelieving. Quinn and Annabelle sneaked between the family around them, looking for a good angle to spy on the doors.

The last three knocks sounded pounding, resonating in wood and stone.

Everyone was moving now, some out of the way of the doors, others to them. Most just paced on the spot, nervous but unsure what to do. Quinn and Annabelle took advantage of the confusion to change spots again, dodging the quick walks of the adults as they put themselves in place for a full view of the doors.

And when they opened with a deep and loud crack to let in a cool gust, the figure that came in was the most beautiful Quinn had ever seen.

The wide shoulders were draped in a vest of felt leaves, each one colored like its own little sunset. The warm browns of the rest of the clothes brightened them like flames, and the copper hair that fell over the leaves framed a golden face with eyes shadowed in bronze.

The sound of the flat leather boots on the stone floor seemed to silence the room again as this glorious woman walked in further. It soon became obvious that she was also tall, and her every step was one of shameless confidence.

Quinn recognized the flamboyance of the leaves of the vest: only their family’s sunset maples made such a riot of color on each leaf. Was this a relative? They felt as if they should recognize her, but couldn’t. If only they could get a better look at her face…

Her stride took her straight to Quinn’s grandparents, whose faces said they knew who this was, but could not believe she was there. Whispers among the family had started up again, but none were clear enough for Quinn to make out save for a small “Is that really-?”, “It must be, how else could-”.

She stopped in front of them, close to where Quinn and Annabelle had hid themselves off to the side of the hearth. The rich and smoky voice of the woman only added to her appeal when she spoke:

“Good evening everyone.” she said lowly, “And what a lovely evening it is.”

Their grandmother’s disbelief seemed to fade a little, but before she could speak their grandfather cut in.

“Get out. You made your choice. This night is for the girls.”

Quinn bristled at being called a girl again, but as always, did not know why.

“Then it’s mine too, isn’t it?” she replied playfully, “Or have you changed your mind about me yet again?”

His face burned red, but she had moved on before he could speak again.

“And where are the young ones whose day has come again this year?” she said assertively as she scanned the room, “I have gifts to give and goodwill to pass along…”

Quinn unthinkingly moved away from their hiding spot then, Annabelle in tow. The woman’s eyes set on them both instantly, and her smile was warm, playful…and a little sad. Quinn didn’t know what could produce such a combination of emotions on a face, but they felt compelled to approach her, to want to comfort her. When all three of them stood together in front of the hearth fire she knelt to bring herself to their eye-level, and Quinn noticed her eyes were the same warm brown as her clothes. Everything about her was warm.

Behind her, their grandfather’s weak protests were shushed by their grandmother. He tried to argue with her quietly, hissing throughout.

None of it mattered to the three of them together. She had eyes and ears only for Quinn and Annabelle, and them for her. Then, seemingly out of thin air, she held before her two packages, one for each of them.

“Happy birthday to you both. I won’t be staying, so hold on to these. They are for you, and only you.”

The gifts, they noticed as they picked them up from her hands, were wrapped in dried leaves instead of paper and held together by nothing but hemp cord. Annabelle picked up hers first, and thanked her cheerfully. She did not, however, open it just yet. It was technically not her birthday yet, and she had always been the patient one between the two of them.

“They will protect you, as long as you wear them.” The beautiful woman said as she put her hand gently over Annabelle’s, “Just remember that they will do so best when you let your fear fall away.”

Even Annabelle knew what she said was important, even if she didn’t know how yet. She nodded her understanding while Quinn wondered at the idea of Annabelle being afraid. No one was as fearless as their favorite cousin. It’s why they got along so well, with Quinn boldly throwing themselves at everything right along with her.

Quinn’s pondering of this idea was cut short by the woman’s eyes shifting to Quinn’s own, and they were again hit with the vague feeling of knowing that face, but still not being able to place her in their mind.

She smiled wider then, seemingly knowing what they were thinking. The sadness in her eyes came forward in her expression as she told them softly: “I know what you see, Quinn.”

“But”, they said as softly, “I don’t.”

If they could just stare at that face long enough they would figure it out, they were sure of it. If they could just…

“You will.” she promised, “Until then, take this, and show the world everything you can see. Because someday, the world will see you. And when you are ready, they will see you as I do.”

Her hand was warm on Quinn’s as she said this, but the entirety of their focus was now on her eyes. They made Quinn feel like they’d been spotted, caught red-handed, pointed out from the background. Felt seen.

“I see you Quinn. I see you under the layers of girl that everyone else puts on you. Under all the woman they will expect you to be, I see you.”

For an infinite moment, there was not enough air. She could see it, she could see it, and she knew…

And in that warm hand and sad smile was a softness, an understanding that Quinn had longed for but had never found, not even from Annabelle.

Their vision suddenly started to blur as they stared back into her eyes. Why was their vision blurry?

There were tears in their eyes. Embarrassed, Quinn lifted a hand to wipe them away—

“What, why is she crying?” Quinn heard their grandfather howl, “What did you do?! How dare you!”

They jumped at the sound of his voice, booming and angry. It sent the room into a frenzy of voices from the rest of the family, a cacophonous confusion.

Despite this, and before Quinn could even think to say anything in protest, the beautiful woman rose to her full height, and turned to their grandfather.

His gaze had always been a frightful thing to Quinn, but she stood tall and still against even his loudest shouts.

“Show them what you see, Quinn,” she said to them over her shoulder, “Show them all.”

“ENOUGH!” he shouted “You’ll—“

The hearth fire suddenly blazed, momentarily lighting the room bright as day. The family yelled their surprised alarm and in the flames a second later there was…

There was…a figure. There was a person in the fire, a person with clothes that seemed made of flames, the tallest person Quinn had ever seen. The shape of them beyond that was hazy, and Quinn could barely make out that they were still standing on the stone of the hearth itself, and that in one hand they carried what looked like a long, long fiery spear. Their other hand was open and outstretched in front of them, waiting patiently.

In the chaos of light and noise the woman stood still, unmoved by the sudden roar of fire behind her. But their grandfather was not, and he stared fearfully at the tall figure, while their grandmother looked surprised, but only uncertain.

And then the woman turned to the figure without a hint of fear, put her hand in theirs, and vanished with them into the flames.

And on her face as she did, was the happiest smile Quinn has ever seen.

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Tah-dah! This excerpt is dedicated to @theticklishpear for their birthday! Thank you for all your help and support! I wish you the happiest birthday and a chance to rest and relax amidst the chaos of the world today. <3

A recent and lovely conversation (always nice to chat with you Pear!) has inspired me to post the opening of my ‘Whirlpool’ story after such long neglect.

Here it is! :

The sails were straining against the stormy wind, pulling them ever forward. The arcwood catamaran was made from the best and by the best, but even the best could handle only so much. The sky was dark and blank, its only light coming from the streaks of lightning snaking their way across the gray clouds.

Virtival, stubborn and strong as she was, was also straining against the wind, trying to hold her little ship together. Behind her, her first mate Zaruo held the rudder steady among both rushing currents and gale-force gusts, shoving her entire body against the handle.

But shoving suddenly became dangling as their catamaran seemed to fall downward, as if going over the edge of a wave.

They were no longer going forward, but inward, downward, sliding along the sides of a wall of water. The currents were suddenly unidirectional, the winds flowing as one. Virtival moved to bind the sails in place, and when she looked up again she could finally see it clearly. The shape of it.

The Whirlpool. They were in it. Going down its throat, an ever darker tunnel of churning seawater swallowing the world around it. There were no words for the immensity of it, for its power. And they were skimming around into it.

Elsewhere along the funnel other small ships, catamarans like theirs, were also making their way downward, spiraling into the beast’s gullet. Their colorful sails identifying them as fellow Divers, or scholars in search of knowledge of the sea. All of them daring the waters together, with a common goal: go as deep as possible.

Some were already deeper in than Virtival and Zaruo, others with less luck had already strained their boats beyond endurance, and shattered them. The current would drag them beneath the water and likely hold them there.

Try as they might, the attending Lammerdei could not reach them in time. Not even their wings could resist the strength of the funnel’s current. The sailors would drown.

Another ship fails, but its sailors are quick enough to shed their weight and launch their parachute: at the very center of the funnel, the wind suddenly goes back upward. It is the only means of escape in an emergency. Every catamaran had one, but to escape the funnel’s currents the little ships had to jump off of the water’s surface into the central updraft. The was always a few seconds of being pulled down before their jump’s momentum pushed them into the updraft, and keeping a cool head during those seconds were crucial. Failure meant falling back into the funnel, into the water. And then into a watery death.

Some had tried abandoning their boats entirely and jumping with only a personal ‘chute. But this only worked, and only rarely, if one was deep enough into the funnel that the entire passage narrowed, and their weight was enough for them to cut through the wind. It was a tight space of opportunity that allowed it since the deeper they went, the stronger the currents became. Wind and water both seemingly wanting nothing more that to go down, down, down...

They were not there yet. Virtival’s ship was holding its own, its arcwood sections flexing but not breaking in the pull of the currents. Zaruo had managed to get back into a useful position, looking as determined as ever. No amount of saltwater spray, wind or storms ever fazed her. Virtival once again felt the extent of her luck in meeting and befriending the giant woman: Zaruo was fearless even now, holding the rudder steady, watching for debris, for other boats...

Virtival spared a glance upward, looking for the attending Lammerdei...1…2...3.... five as promised. Flying gracefully even in this fierce wind, watching for distress signals among the ships.

But not hers, she knew. None would ever come for her boat.

The memories and bitterness washed over her suddenly again. The memories of sun and sky and wind under her, of such freedom and joy... and the bitter loss of it, torn away, the pain in her back and spine, of freedom lost and abandonment, and the soul crushing knowledge that she was worse than hated: she had been discarded, like so much failed and hole-filled net, a torn and unsalvageable sail.

Well fuck them. No shallow-lunged, self-righteous old hags were going to be the end of her.

Gripping the ropes in her hands tighter, she returns her attention on the funnel. Shuts away the longing the winds inspires in her. Shuts away the bitter pain of memories and scars on her back, and refocuses on the now.

And right now, she was going down the gullet of the ocean itself in nothing but a hollow twig bound by string and cloth.

It was madness. But it was her madness, and she would pursue it as surely as she did everything else in her life.

With furor.

...

And here we have two of the main cast! Why, one may ask, would anyone risk getting swallowed up into the deepest waters in the world?

Zaruo is in it for the prize, and stubborn loyalty to her best friend Virtival, with whom she’s been through so much...

And Virtival...is in it for a lot of reasons, some of which are not quite sane. But she is what most would call driven, and what drives her can be for good or ill.

Hopefully she’ll learn to steer herself for good rather than ill, because a lot more than her personal feelings are riding on this Dive than she might realize...

Necromancy has always been something that I have enjoyed aesthetically, but have also always found a bit hard to really get into because of the whole ‘reanimated dead things that aren’t in any way alive’. Dead things have never been something that ‘stay dead’ for very long in my life, and I mean that in the ‘the y decay and feed more living things’ kind of way. The cycle of life, that whole shebang that lets nothing go to waste, life that makes more life, even with its own death, even if that life changes form.

Which got me thinking about necromancy, and the implications of the cycle of life in necromancy. Imagining, in a sense, a different kind of necromancy, one that is simply the embodiment of the cycle of life and does not cleanly separate what is alive or dead. A necromancy that does not simply perpetuate death or make use of it for nefarious purposes. A necromancy that unmistakably produces more life and life-giving happenings instead of merely being a sinister, ever-spreading plague of die-off with no renewal.

I have dubbed it Green Necromancy.

It is the necromancy of mushrooms, moss and maggot, of swamps that blur the line between what is alive and growing and what is dead and feeding the living.

It’s the necromancy of burying the dead so that they bring more life to the places they lie in. Bodies as fertilizer that feeds and grows everything else.

It’s the necromancy of dead trees feeding the forest floor with their ends, and in so doing both make room for more life and give that life a temporary home to take shelter in.

Its the necromancy of recycling organic matter into objects that help the living continue on : dead wood into homes, bones into tools, claws and teeth into blades, scales, feathers, skin into all that is needed, and, of course, meat as food.

It’s the necromancy of preserving a life by killing another, the defeat of disease to save lives, the death of an animal to feed another.  It’s the necromancy killing tumors and cancers to save a life. It’s life-saving medicines being made from mushrooms that only grow on corpses.

It’s also the necromancy of dead cities being reclaimed by the wilderness after they are abandoned, of ships downed at sea making new coral reefs, of whale bodies becoming hotbeds of deep-sea life, even if only temporarily. It’s dry places experiencing the renewal of a wet season. It’s swamps in constant growth and change, rivers that change their courses to new grounds.

Necromancers who’s presence inspires hope instead of dread, who are more healers than distant wizards or the usual evil niche that necromancers tend to fill.

It’s probably been done before, and under another name, but I’ve never seen it named or talked about explicitly.