-
AuthorSearch Results
-
September 15, 2007 at 10:28 pm #162
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Malvina enchanted harp had been playing for quite some time now, an old tune from her homeland and she was beginning to feel like she wanted to improvise some new music.
She had been combing every nook and cranny of every hole into the many tunnels spreading inside the cave this morning, and was quite exhausted now. Of all the few pearl-like eggs that she had found, only two looked like a promise of new baby dragons. Others would probably dry up and become hard glassy balls, that she could polish and sell in the market of the village.
These round balls were mostly bought by rich merchants who used them only as decorations, or as a ostentatious display of riches. Few of them knew that imbued with dragon magix, they could be used as focal points, especially for two people to communicate through them.
Malvina did not care to explain to the buyers, as long as they were only interested in the mundane. That was somewhat saddening at times, because when people started to forget about the innate magix pervading the Worlds, they started to loose their power to steer their own ships. And sometimes, for some of them, they would just create strange things out of nowhere, like sudden rains in a clear blue sky, only to remind them of this power. But for the less fortunate of them, they would just wallow in the mud and cry to the sky, forgetting that they were creating this for a purpose…
But now, the harp was calling for her, and she knew it would delight the little Buckberry and the guests she could feel were approaching, if not here already…
September 15, 2007 at 3:33 am #138In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Fiona realised she had run out of catfood as her black cat Ivy leapt up on the desk and began talking and rubbing against her face. Ivy was a very determined cat, and life would be unpleasant till this little issue was resolved. Maybe she should get some eggs too, all morning eggs had been coming to her attention for some reason. She wasn’t hungry right now, but maybe would be later.
Dory was often saying how her animals reflected something that was going on in her life, at the moment it was the need to focus on herself more. Fiona wondered what Ivy reflected. She had never had a cat more persistent in getting it’s own way. Or more talkative. That doesn’t really sound much like me, Fiona reflected, but it did feel like there was something there she wasn’t quite getting.
The other funny thing Fiona noticed was that she kept drawing the music card. She had a box of Angel cards her friend gave her, and had been fiddling with them. Three times the music card had fallen out from the pack. “The angels guide you to immerse yourself in beautiful music”, hmmm she thought to herself, beautiful music … maybe that will drown Ivy out …
September 14, 2007 at 8:22 am #136In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Inside her cave, Malvina was playing the harp. She was happy and in harmony with the Worlds.
She came from a long lineage of Light Sorcerers and Sorceresses, but had preferred to the fuss of a great career in one of the quarreling kingdoms, a pleasant life inside this cave. The cave had been empty when she had found it, safe from some schpurniatz, but she knew how to tame them, and she had even left a few shadowy places for them to rest , hung upside down under the holes and crevices during daylight, when she had used Magix to transform the rocky walls into a comfortable dwelling place.
She was happy, because new eggs had been laid, and they had come early this time. The eggs, she cherished not because of their gilded aspect, but because they were the sons and daughters of her mighty dragon friend Leörmn. Eggs were highly sought by greedy pirates of the Northern Seas, and though she had been as discrete as possible, she knew they had lots of informants, and her aura was spreading in the villages around, especially since she had helped that little boy who had fallen inadvertently inside the cave.
At least, this time she would be warned by Leörmn, who was keeping watch at the entrance, and whose riddles could very well befuddle the greedy uninvited fellows into forgetting their names altogether.
So now, she played, and played, and music notes were like soothing water drops, carried away by the rivulet inside the cave…
-
AuthorSearch Results