LordSriya

LordSriya

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There is no freedom on land like that granted by the waters of the endless sea -- capricious and calming all at once, and, yet, driven ever on by the journey to know what it is that lies beyond that furthest horizon, and the yearning to know what mysteries lay hidden in those steadfast and fathomless depths.

"You can't be serious." "Of course I am." The Baron raised an eyebrow in smug amusement. "You are the governess to a young witch. It is a part of the job -- risks must be taken." Aggie sighed and turned to face him. "You do understand that I am not a cat, I presume?" "Naturally," came the reply. The Baron sniffed delicately and gave her a pointed look. "Though I shall never understand how you humans have ever managed to survive this long with only a single life at your disposal; hardly sensible, in my opinion."

"You are... certain this will work?" The sea-witch nodded. "I have seen this before, many a time in ages past. But you must be willing -- it will not work otherwise, I am afraid, and everything here will be lost forever." Celia bit her lower lip as she once again looked pensively at the site before her. Her decision had already been made, but she stalled for time nonetheless, and when she finally tasted the metallic tang of her own blood on her tongue, Celia released it, ignoring the sting as the wound made contact with the briny water. She sighed. "Then I am ready."

"Again." With a grimace, Lune turned away from the older man and looked back to the large black stone barring the path. He held his hands out before him, fingers splayed and trembling with the effort, as he closed his eyes and summoned the last dregs of his energy. He felt it crackle through his body, fanning from that focal point behind his eyes and the center of his chest, to the tips of his fingers and then out, all the while augmented by the tiny sparks of power contained in the bright green stones that hung by delicate silver chains from each of his earlobes. The energy, no longer contained by flesh and blood, continued on, weak and hesitant as it searched for something to hold onto, until it met the rough, cracked surface of the stone. Lune inhaled deeply, and as he let out the breath slowly, manipulated the energy as he had been taught. The black stone trembled, and then rose a meter above the dusty trail upon which it had been resting. But it wasn't enough. As the last of his energy left him, Lune felt his hands seize up; breathing became difficult, and as his heart began to beat erratically in response to the stress. His concentration broke, and the line was severed. The stone fell back to the path, and Lune staggered toward it before exhaustion overcame him, and, barely conscious, he crumpled to the ground. Parrett did not move to help him. "You haven't learned a single thing," he said, his tone as measured and even as it always was. Lune didn't have the energy to reply. He heard the old man reach into his bag rummage around for something before the sound of a match being lit reached his years; the smell of tobacco came soon after, followed by the familiar sound of uneven footsteps and a metal-tipped cane hitting the earth. A smooth line of energy hummed by Lune's ear, and he turned his head to find the skin of spiced wine hovering beside him. "Drink," Parrett told him. He was sitting on the same stone Lune had been attempting to move, facing away from the boy and smoking his pipe. "We will continue in ten minutes - if you haven't recovered enough energy by then, the only person you will have to blame is yourself. You know what I expect: I do not teach incompetent children with delusions of grandeur."

The Baron frowned at her. "Madame," he said, "I do not know if it has escaped your notice, but I am a cat." His eyes narrowed, and Agatha decided that at that moment, the baron looked very much like a rather put-out and dangerous feline. "All I want is for the young mistress to come into her majority at the appropriate time with the proper knowledge and maturity expected of a lady of her standing - something that only you, thus far, have been able to give her - so that she can take this blasted enchantment off of me and I can resume being a carefree housepet once again." But Agatha was not deterred. "Is being human really all that bad?" she asked flatly. "Allow me to make this simple for you to understand," the Baron replied. "My life for the last seven years has been nothing short of a hell on earth."

"Some people collect buttons, while others collect bottle caps or stamps or miniatures of ships in bottles - my interests simply happen to lie in areas rather far removed from the general populace." A- seemed hesitant. "But sir," she began as politely as she was able, "you collect human skulls." The baron tapped his cane on the floor and flashed her a quicksilver smile. "I do believe we've already well established my eccentricities at this point, my dear," he said. "But not to fret - I do collect seashells as well."

"It's beautiful." She took the object and turned it over curiously. "But what is it?" The other woman shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know," came the reply."It's true that my father's people are known for their skills in craftsmanship and smithing, but also for their abstract and curious way of thinking and creating." She looked down and smiled fondly at the object. "My mother told me that my father sang it from a young aspen sapling for her during the first new moon of the spring in the year I was born, and while I don't doubt that at least a bit of magic was used to make it, I'm certain that most of the effort came from him shaping and smoothing the wood himself with his own two hands." "He sang it?" A grin formed on the smaller woman's clever brown face. "Didn't you know?" she asked. "My father is an elf."

In her mind, her anger takes the form is like a tsunami. It crashes ferociously against the shores, breaking against those hapless victims unfortunate enough to face her wrath. Her anger is not a fire - fire leaves behind ash, and from it life can still be renewed. But the sea is a merciless mistress, tamed by no one, and a rage such as hers leaves little in its wake.

"Did you really think nothing was going to happen?" He glared at the small figure kneeling on the grass in front of him. "They faced the Marquise's personal guard - the chances of them surviving were slim, but even knowing that you went ahead allowed them to go through with their suicide plan." Elec crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I've done plenty of idiotic things in my life - and I've paid the price for each of them - but I've never heard of anyone doing anything so bloody stupid before. I thought you were intelligent." The figure glared at him in turn. "I am intelligent, you dunce," Priscilla said, before her voice softened, and her normally stern expression became one of remorse. "I just don't understand - this never happened before." She traced her fingers along the edge of one of the bloodstained scraps of fabric caught in the bush's thorny brambles. "Something about this doesn't feel right."

People frequently tell me that I am a willful child, and that being so strong-headed will one day do more harm than good to me if I'm not careful. Whenever people tell me this, my natural response is to cross my arms over my chest, look them straight in the eye, and tell them in a particularly matter-of-fact manner that my willfulness is simply a part of my own natural charm. In hindsight, saying things like that probably doesn't help matters much.

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writing since 2013 · 22 entries · 18 days shown up

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LordSriya wrote about steadfast
“There is no freedom on land like that granted by the waters of the endless sea -- capricious and calming all at once, and, yet, driven ever on by the journey to know what it is that lies beyond that …”

the words LordSriya reaches for

eyesenergyfacebaronluneunderstandstonefaultglaredwronghandsresponsebeatbeganreplycollect