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07-08-2016, 02:37 AM
ultima
The stranger gawked for a minute. And then roared.
Her poll drew back on reflex, ears twitching apprehensively as his volume dove into a whisper.
What had he said? Had it been Common Tongue or something else? Dimly she wondered when she’d last spoken to someone, anyone; she’d seen others on her slow march through the countryside, and she dimly recalled their voices, but the sounds were distorted, as if heard from a distance. She shook her head as if to beat out the dust, tassels swishing on either side of her face, and thought back—
‘Helovia!’
Ah.
“They call it that, yes. I’ve no idea where th— God bless you,” she said, misunderstanding the words ‘chort fungus’, “—where the Edge is, but I’ve heard of it. I rather thought this was the Edge, actually. Looks quite like the end of things to me. Everything there is. Everything to come.”
Evening was rising, the far horizon flushed with the last dregs of sunlight. Without meaning to her head had turned towards it, her gaze skipping across the waves pulling, pushing against the shore. One stopped just shy of her foot and she danced aside, watching half-affronted as the water receded and shoved out again, closer each time.
Like the river, but wider – far wider than she could fathom. Or the goldfish pond, but scaled forward by a hundred times, a thousand even, likely even more – she couldn’t conjure up anything to compare it to that didn’t make her heart shudder and fold like a house of cards. Best not to try, she told herself, a little breeze coiling in her bedraggled mane, stirring the sun-faded locks. and with her third-most dismissive flick of the head set her sights back on the boy.
His coat was flaked with salt and smears of seafoam. Something green was clinging to his knee, and a lantern hung among the tines of his antlers. She supposed it was magic what kept it lit, even after clambering out of the wet – they’d had ones like that in the Wood, flickering as rain surged through the canopy but never quite guttering out.
The girl made a wry face, clearing her throat as properly as one possibly could. Brides don’t cry, she reminded herself, Ultima’s own haughty ghost flashing through her eyes, the distinct tang of pride on her tongue.
“I gather you don’t live here, then. In— That.” She paused, considering her options. And, childlike to the end, unafraid to ask questions, “What’s the word for That, do you know?”
Her poll drew back on reflex, ears twitching apprehensively as his volume dove into a whisper.
What had he said? Had it been Common Tongue or something else? Dimly she wondered when she’d last spoken to someone, anyone; she’d seen others on her slow march through the countryside, and she dimly recalled their voices, but the sounds were distorted, as if heard from a distance. She shook her head as if to beat out the dust, tassels swishing on either side of her face, and thought back—
‘Helovia!’
Ah.
“They call it that, yes. I’ve no idea where th— God bless you,” she said, misunderstanding the words ‘chort fungus’, “—where the Edge is, but I’ve heard of it. I rather thought this was the Edge, actually. Looks quite like the end of things to me. Everything there is. Everything to come.”
Evening was rising, the far horizon flushed with the last dregs of sunlight. Without meaning to her head had turned towards it, her gaze skipping across the waves pulling, pushing against the shore. One stopped just shy of her foot and she danced aside, watching half-affronted as the water receded and shoved out again, closer each time.
Like the river, but wider – far wider than she could fathom. Or the goldfish pond, but scaled forward by a hundred times, a thousand even, likely even more – she couldn’t conjure up anything to compare it to that didn’t make her heart shudder and fold like a house of cards. Best not to try, she told herself, a little breeze coiling in her bedraggled mane, stirring the sun-faded locks. and with her third-most dismissive flick of the head set her sights back on the boy.
His coat was flaked with salt and smears of seafoam. Something green was clinging to his knee, and a lantern hung among the tines of his antlers. She supposed it was magic what kept it lit, even after clambering out of the wet – they’d had ones like that in the Wood, flickering as rain surged through the canopy but never quite guttering out.
The girl made a wry face, clearing her throat as properly as one possibly could. Brides don’t cry, she reminded herself, Ultima’s own haughty ghost flashing through her eyes, the distinct tang of pride on her tongue.
“I gather you don’t live here, then. In— That.” She paused, considering her options. And, childlike to the end, unafraid to ask questions, “What’s the word for That, do you know?”
command me to be well.
@Tilney gggetttting thererereee
ully @ the ocean probably
 | please tag ultima in all posts! force/magic a-ok, shy of killing/maiming her! |
