Calling all Demigods! discussion
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Your Writing
Mod
FF has scary thing in it for Harry Potter stuff...
epicness with jealousy.
Mod
I LUV IT"
thank you :) i like the first chapter so far of your story, i'm reading the rest
mine----->
http://www.goodreads.com/story/list/3...
Mod
*clicks shiny link*
Just go to my profile and access my writing there. I don't care which writing you read.
Mod
Goldfiel
It was a nice day.
Besides the stench of decay, rusted over blood stains bending the delicate blades of grass under their weight, and the overall atmosphere of fear and murder. The sun had been out, at least, even though it was beginning to set. And those grotesque, winged creatures weren’t distorting the perfect yellow yolk in the blue sky, with their terrible shrieks and groans.
Long grass, still dewy from the chilly morning, swept around the ice nymph’s feet as she skipped towards the beehive. Just a little farther…
Plautilla stooped down and plucked a fistful of wildflowers, their fragrance warm and sweet under Goldfiel’s watery sun, and walked towards the large, cone-shaped nest, buttery yellow and swarming with bees. Plautilla’s childlike smile widened into an eager, apprehensive one, as she approached the nest, wildflowers in hand.
Two or three bees flew lazily towards her, their hippo faces bulging and sleepy-looking, while their bee halves’ wings fluttered slowly. Plautilla took another step forward and nudged the flowers in the nest, watching the lazy bees swarm around them, collecting nectar to make into honey.
Now sure that her offer had been accepted, Plautilla grinned and reached a pale hand into the huge nest, looking for the chunk of honeycomb reserved for her. She pulled her arm back, now clutching a sizable piece of honeycomb, dripping with cool, fresh honey.
That was how it was, Plautilla thought, her lips sticky with the honey that was drizzling lightly down her neck. The bees were so lazy that they didn’t fly much out of their nests anymore; instead, in return for honey, nymphs and fairies gave the flowers right to their nests. Flower nymphs decided to take on the responsibility of pollinating the flowers by living in their fields, while the flower pollen rubbed onto their bare legs and arms and transferred to another flower.
Plautilla sighed, the honey dripping in her hands as she gazed out forlornly across the bleak landscape. It would all change, she thought.
It’s all going to change tonight.
Now done her breakfast, Plautilla reached over to a tiny puddle next to the nest and splashed some on her face to wash away the excess honey. Full and feeling rather comfortable, given the circumstances and the task that lay before her like a black abyss, Plautilla lay down slowly on the grass, her arms above her head, hands twisting flower stems aimlessly. She turned her head towards her cliff, so close to the trail of bleak landscape and destruction They had left in their wake.
And even though she was trying to keep the thoughts out of her head, Plautilla wondered what was to become of Goldfiel, the population decreased to the odd nymph. Furrowing her ink brow in concern, Plautilla raised a flower to her lips and kissed it absentmindedly. Nymphs didn’t harm anyone. They didn’t steal or plunder, they didn’t murder, and always took what they needed and gave back in return. Humans and fairies and nymphs and dwarves and—here she shuddered, closing her large, slanted eyes for a brief moment—wizards, however—they were bad. Oh, they pretended to be good, but they almost deserved to be annihilated. But nobody—here she shuddered again, with more feeling-- deserved to be annihilated by Them— the ruthless, nightmarish, cruel creatures from the Other Side. They had invaded Goldfiel because They or so ago, tired of their ugly, hellish lands, filled with infernos and never-ending fires, and eager to kill as many Goldfiel creatures as they could. The funny thing was that the witches and wizards, who were thought to be invincible, could do nothing against them. No spells or enchantments or curses worked on Them. And since all nymphs were considered vapid, shallow creatures with no fighting skills entirely (whose only use was the prostitution that had unfortunately become quite common amongst themselves), they were largely ignored, except to be the subject of tavern jokes. The demons had disregarded them completely if they stayed out of their fiery, destructive paths. To the average eye, nymphs were no more than pretty winged things to look at.
Plautilla rolled her eyes at this ironic thought and got up, pulling down the hemline of her gossamer shift. She started the long walk to her home, not having the heart to flutter her wings, clear as a sheet of ice and just as thin, casting rainbows under the weak and feeble sun.
Feeling as safe as it was possible to feel in these circumstances, Plautilla settled down in her rocky cavern. Off to the side of the meadow, Plautilla observed that a rainbow was out. It stretched out across the skyline, innocent, naïve, adding a pretty albeit ironic touch to the scene. Bloodstains and rainbows. How perfectly macabre.
It had rained recently, of course. Not even Goldfiel could produce random rainbows at will. Not even in an attempt to brighten the gloomy atmosphere of a world gone bad. And especially not now, when all the magic the place had once contained was gone, all the citizens of Goldfiel scattered across, hiding like cockroaches. A bird sang off to the distance, a brave sweet cooing.
It put Plautilla in a rather drab mood, to be frank. Here in her cave she’d always felt untouched, safe, observant and omniscient, but now… Now there were spatters of blood scattered sporadically, the dead creatures whose veins the blood had once contained gone, eaten by the newcomers. The grass was wet with the cold remnants of the previous rainfall, and there weren't beautiful winged horses munching on greens in the distance. Plautilla severely doubted that there were any left. It was so silent.
The ice nymph tucked her long white legs under her, small toes curling in the rocks and pebbles that scattered the cave, surveying the spectacularly destroyed scene like a doctor would survey a patient that had no chance of living. Her white face tilted back to bask briefly in the sun filtering out from the gaps in the mountain cave. She could tell from the placement of the sun that she had to go, but she didn’t want to, not just yet.
Before this had all happened Plautilla had hoped for a war, thinking that it would liven up the sickeningly sweet happyland where she lived, and perhaps get rid of the worst people that lived here (even more so sickeningly happy and sweet, but cruel to her kind)—but now she regretted her wish deeply. Wars were not fun.
Wars were bad. And all the worst people had long since fled, and all the best had died. Only the nymphs had remained, strengthened by the lack of food, the lack of colour in the land, regarded as merely pests by the Others.
And therefore they were the only hope Goldfiel had to rid itself of the vicious parasites that had spilled over from the Other Side.
With a final glance at the landscape, almost like she was saying goodbye, Plautilla took a running leap off her cliff, her otherworldly body curving as the ground rushed towards her. She lifted her frail little wings at the last possible moment, landing in a crouch at the base of her limestone mountain, and sat there, waiting for the sun to set.
Sacrifice. Plautilla shuddered as she thought of the word.
Her dearest friend, so much like a brother, came to join her in this last peaceful moment of their lives, leaning his blonde curls against her pale shoulder without a word, knowing who and what they were waiting for. Die, or die trying, she had told him with a grim smile. Lynne had twisted his young face in an unbecoming scowl.
I would rather die knowing I tried, not like those coward wizards and human-folk.
Plautilla had silently agreed with him. After years of training and years of practice… it was just two nymphs against Him.
Their leader.
And he happened to rest in the cavern whose wall they leaned their slender backs on, waiting for him. They had planned this moment out for months.
After an immeasurable silence, Plautilla and Lynne, elven ears pressed to the cold stone, heard boots slam down on the ground. Plautilla squeezed her friend’s hand for comfort and silently fluttered over to a ledge in the cliff, looking down at the makeshift cavern the creature had fashioned for himself through cracks in the limestone. Dust from the chalky ground rose up around the heavy leather of the vampire’s boots, small chain bracelets jangled from wrists at the ends of the horridly muscular arms, covered in thick hair, and a small silver cross swung from his neck. Silver and gold ringed thick fingers came up and clasped the cross tightly as long, tattered leather wings flapped for one last steadying motion before stretching out again, symbols of death and rage, before folding neatly against his strong back.
Plautilla swallowed, her mouth dry. This was the creature they had set themselves up against.
“Die or die trying,” Lynne whispered from below, his eyes empty of animation and yet filled with determination. “We can do it, Plautilla. It’s two of us and one of him.”
Plautilla trembled in fright, her clear little wings shaking frailly atop her back. “I’m afraid,” she whispered, locking her wide eyes on his.
Lynne understood. She could see it in his eyes, and their fierceness gave her courage.
With a deep breath, the two set towards the hole in the cave.
Mod
You better give me more, Whim, or I'll
Mod
message 16:
by
Iviana (The Sign Painter), The Goddess of indecisiveness
(last edited Sep 06, 2010 09:31AM)
(new)
Mod
Silent tears,
Silent cries,
Silent sobs in the night,
Forever muted
Hiding behind the masks.
The mask of happiness
Is dying down,
And the silent sadness,
Has come alive.
The mask of laughter
Is slowly vanishing,
And the silent tears
Are quickly appearing.
The mask of lies
Is finally gone,
And the bitter truth
Is here to surface.
The masks have disappeared,
Leaving nothing but the silent sobs.
For those who care
Don't care enough
To lend a hand,
And give back the masks that have fallen
Into
Oblivion.
Happiness,
Laughter,
Lies.
All keep playing on.
The masquerade plays on.
Those who have dropped their mask,
Have already given up.
LEAVE ME A REVIEW AND I SHALL REVIEW ONE OF YOUR STORIES. RAWR. http://www.goodreads.com/story/show/2...
Mod
Thanks, oh and most of those mishaps were typos
Mod
HOLY SH*T, NOT ITALICS AND SHINY LETTERS.
Mod
"COMMENT NINJAS!"
Mod
Read and review and I will love you more than I probably already do.
message 32:
by
Iviana (The Sign Painter), The Goddess of indecisiveness
(last edited Oct 09, 2010 03:03PM)
(new)
Mod
AND I THINK EVERYBODY SHOULD READ THE CHAPTER I PUT UP FOR NIOBE'S CURSE. AND COMMENT. IT WOULD MAKE MY LIFE. KTHX.
Mod
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Mod
Oh. I should tell you about my twin cousins. They're 2.
This is an old convorsation with them:
Me: Hi, Sophie!
Sophie: Hai~
Me: What's your name?
Sophie: Dodo.
Me: No, it's Fefe,
Sophie: Nooo. Dodo.
Me: *sigh* What's your sister's name?
Sophie: Baby.
Me: No, it's Ava.
Sphie: Baby Ah-va~
Me: Ava, what's your name.
Ava: Baby.
Me: No, it's Vava ((not, Vanvan ;3))
Ava: No. Baby.
Me: No, it's Ava.
Ava: Babyyyyy.
Yay, I get a shoutout. XD
c: Lewl, cute.
I commented, Whimmy~
c: Lewl, cute.
I commented, Whimmy~
Mod
AND THANKS BE TO YOU DEAR VANVAN.
Mod
Calling all Demigods!
Books mentioned in this topic
Flowers for Algernon (other topics)Will Grayson, Will Grayson (other topics)
http://www.goodreads.com/story/list/2...