Éric

Forum Replies Created

Viewing 10 replies - 1,641 through 1,650 (of 1,650 total)
  • Author
    Replies
  • in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #173

    Lots of things were moving around, Quintin felt. It was nothing he could have explained in words of the physical world, but he was aware of some deep movement, something like a new beginning.

    Lots of others had been moving too, in their own ways, sometimes not quite comfortably, but it was calmer now, like after a tempest, clear limpid sky, and splinters of wooden ships floating gently on the oily surface of the sea.

    Dory had been very sick in Madagascar she’d told him, perhaps after having eaten some food, she could not have told why. But now was better… It had seemed a good night of sleep was good enough a medicine for her.

    He had dreamed of Fiona too, some shared past lives in the 1860s in a small town in the US, it had been very vivid, and he had felt a great lovingness between them… Somehow they could find each other again, anytime, he knew that.

    As for Yann, after that week-end they had spent together, all was clear too between them, they could create the fun they wanted without needing to make it difficult for them, it was only a matter of being accepting of their own choices and impulses, which was at times easier said than done.

    It had been an interesting exchange between them all, and it was still continuing. Perhaps it was a gift from Malika, her gentle presence, which was very much like Malvina’s in her cave…

    in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #169

    The quiet voice of Leörmn, who was not only shaping the cave but also aware of the living creatures in it, upon feeling the trouble of the poor flattened glukenitch, mentally told it not to worry.

    Glukenitches were slimy wet creatures fearing light, and thus kept most of their time living underground. They lived in colonies generated from a single individual, and they shared the same mind. It was thus quite easy to communicate with all of them at the same time, and that often proved quite useful, for people not at ease with teleportation, as glukenitches, despite their not very engaging looks, were most helpful creatures.

    They especially liked the cave where Malvina had settled down, because there was this moisture and steam coming from the hot springs which allowed them to live a relatively peaceful life. They used to eat almost everything, not too regarding as to the nature of the things they consumed, and were quite useful recyclers of garbage. Their droppings had a bluish halo to them, which made the inside of the tunnels glow with them until they had completely dried up, and coalesced into a glassy substance.

    That is, until Leörmn had it all changed again.

    So Leörmn was quite fond of these creatures as they were of a great help to keep the natural balance of the cave.

    Don’t worry he told the glukenitch mind, gripshawks are not as carefree as they seem; most of them are simply known for their dreadful sense of direction, and also at times for their limited attention span…

    Oh yes, answered the mind now I understand, this one buggered off without any notice… Could have asked for directions, but we guess it would have been useless anyway… Perhaps this one thought I would eat it. As if we were such undiscerning creatures…

    As the adage goes, “Not even the Elders could know what’s in the mind of a gripshawk”… answered Leörmn enigmatically…

    You know, added the mind, without meaning to be disrespectful, it’s twice now we’ve got people falling inside this hole… Perhaps for your next transmugrification you’ll like to block it. At least, the first one, that boy, was much more polite and engaging, but you know, we cannot have all the Worlds move in here as if it were Shaint Lejüs Festival…

    in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #162

    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…

    in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #160

    Leörmn had been moving along very swiftly, shapeshifting into a tiny weaszchilla so as to move around unnoticed by Arona.

    He had laughed a tiny squeak when he had heard her gasp “Rats”, but it had been muffled down by the flight of the schpurniatz. That was another test for the girl’s endurance, and she had brilliantly passed.

    Of course, as he could change the cave’s tunnels into his mind, he would not have let Avona fall into a pit… Well now that he thought of it, that could have been interesting and quite funny, but she probably wouldn’t have appreciated that kind of humour.

    But the dragon also was not really giving her clues as to how she could perceive the tunnels, because after all, she was also choosing her way, in a sense.

    You are so wicked! laughed the delightful vibrant voice of Malvina in his head.

    Oh yes, he answered mentally, and I see that you enjoy it too

    in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #153

    Leörmn was indeed very kind hearted, but he was also quite playful too, and wanted to be as extensively welcoming as was possible. Which meant, they would have some fun with that assertive young woman in visiting as much as possible of the cave.

    Arona was heavily cloaked as if the cave were dark humid and cold, but in fact, it was all of the above, except cold. Leörmn grinned widely when he saw her surprise at the steamy temperature inside it.

    Oh yes, he said you didn’t expect us dragons to feel comfortable in that grassy land where every dolt can make rain happen at any minute without warning… Then he added at least, we have some proper heating, but you’ll see that in due time…

    Arona was adapting slowly her gaze to the light steam, and could see more clearly the inside of the cave. Right now, they were only in a wide tunnel, with many creaks and at times, smoother parts of the walls with paintings on them.

    Oh yes, said Leörmn flippantly another hobby horse of Malvina… and he proceeded along the tunnel without further ado.

    Her attention caught up by the richly decorated walls, Arona didn’t notice that the sly dragon had disappeared in front of her, and she was now standing in front of three openings at the end of the long tunnel.

    Rats… she thought, exasperated by the heat, the heavy cloak and now the waggish dragon. Of course, she still could hear the sound of the harp, but she was not in the mood for more treasure hunt.

    Hey there! That’s no fun! she cried in exasperation. But in her exertion she only managed to awaken the colony of bat-like schpurniatz nested in the cracks of the upper walls.

    in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #142

    Illi disliked water so much, that she had barely moved since the last sudden rain, as if frozen and electrified by each of the tiny drops that touched her fur. That was not unusual, for she was a gripshawk, a race of strong-willed warriors from the Deserts of the Far South, but more accustomed to the droughts and sands than to unexpected rains.

    She mostly looked like a human, but with very feline features, and a soft spotted fur on her supple body. Her two pointed ears had been very early drawn to the music, but that rain had caught her by surprise. How foolish of her to have followed that faint track so far from her hometown…

    in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #141

    Dory had been taking some days of vacation in Madagascar, as she had delayed that break in her passionate archeology studies for much too long already. But it was now the beginning of the rainy season, and there hadn’t been much people here in her hotel, which was not displeasing at all, even if she usually liked more exchanges.

    Hopefully, today had been a bright sunny day, a sort of relief in between torrents of rains that had poured, and she had seen some organized excursion which had caught her eye. A funny enticing winking lemur picture on a wall, when she had walked to have her breakfast, and that was all she’d needed to enlist.

    in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #139

    Leörmn was quite amused by his role as a door-keeper.

    He was by no means an impressive dragon in size, but he could project upon people and creatures an appearance of a great terrific dragon. For those like that young adventuress, who he could see was pure of heart, he did not create too frightening an image. But after all, he took his role much to heart, and decided he would play a bit with her.

    The few humans to whom he had revealed his true form were most of the time a bit surprised at first by what a funny little endearing dragon he was, and even more surprised when they knew he was laying such big eggs.

    He was not really a “he” either, nor a “she”, and as most of the dragons of his race, would not choose a gender, and would travel alone, or with a human companion, until he would find a place comfortable enough were he could start a rookery of his own progeny.

    As far as the size of the eggs was concerned, they were at first only the size of big pearls, opalescent and iridescent, and upon the course of many moons they slowly grew in size, taking solidity in the form of that much sought gilded shell.

    Buckberry had been the first one to hatch. His colour was a pretty shade of indogo (the same colour of the blue flamingos that lived in the Eastern Lagunas) and he was a very strong-headed one he could tell. Very funny too. This little one would have a hard time choosing a human companion worthy of him…

    in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #136

    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…

    in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #133

    where… the sound
    of my tears hits the ground
    Just like the rain
    Just like the rain…

    Just like the rain (Richard Hawley)

    Dory has felt like the singer lately, “walking a world of empty streets”, but this had been a fruitful time to gather much information on herself; and now, there was something new she felt was coming her way. Or perhaps it was the other way around, she was coming to it, but in fact, it couldn’t matter less.

    It had been, now she thought of it, it had been like a settling down of winter, so that the magic snow could appear, and be laid upon the barren lands, to provide a renewed enjoyment and vista on the landscape.

    And the drops of the rain created a playful symphony of waves on the surface of the pond she was looking at through the window, and she rejoiced with the goldfishes of what was to come now.

Viewing 10 replies - 1,641 through 1,650 (of 1,650 total)