Libertas - Chapter 13: A Flicker of Flame by Halcyal, literature
Literature
Libertas - Chapter 13: A Flicker of Flame
Chapter 13: A Flicker of Flame Doc leaned in with an avian-tilt as white flashed on black before him, his head and beak inclining this way and that, as if taking in a curatorial view of a portrait. “I look at it and it teases me….” He rose back to full height and turned to Ether. “My dear, point-eared woman, is there nothing you do that does not becharm and de–beguile?” “Master Crow,” Ether said from the side, her voice glinting with a faint chiding lilt, “are you trying to flatter me? Because I’m afraid I’ve been around a bit and am not an easy mark.” Doc chuckled. “A shame, that. A shame, too—I note s-merely in passing—that you haven’t made any pretty patches or stiches like this for anyone else.” “Yes,” Ether said. “Well, that’s because no one else so far has gone and ripped up their dress, now, isn’t it; unless, of course, there’s something you haven’t told me?” To the side, Ara snorted despite himself, and then immediately looked embarrassed. He glanced over at them
Libertas - Chapter 12: As if Crickets Chirped by Halcyal, literature
Literature
Libertas - Chapter 12: As if Crickets Chirped
Chapter 12: As if Crickets Chirped
Ether and Ara sat alone in the main fountain square, the remains of their supper lying on the ground about them, metal cans relieved of their lackluster fare. A small cooking device that produced fire by some arcane means still burned with its modest, even flames between them. The lighting of the sky had shifted subtly from a brighter pallor to a duller pallor, the urban colours dimmed and the grey shadows deepened, in what Ether had come to recognize as the tones of a night as good as come for this place. Indeed, in a way, it almost felt like they could be sitting around a campfire, immersed in expectant
Libertas - Chapter 11: A Red Bouquet by Halcyal, literature
Literature
Libertas - Chapter 11: A Red Bouquet
Chapter 11: A Red Bouquet
The siren woman and the one-armed, man-boy assassin had returned that morning—or whatever amounted to mornings here—three uneasy, so-called days since their departure, and learning of the incident with the Empress lady had thrown them both into a sharp mood. The two had even gone so far as to make a passable attempt at giving Doc and the others an apology for subjecting them to the dangers of the ordeal. Apparently, if one could believe it, that hadn’t been their intent. Doc rolled his eyes at the thought. Indeed, apparently only they were allowed to loom over him and his present, ramshackle flock
Libertas - Chapter 9: (In) Forming (in) Tensions by Halcyal, literature
Literature
Libertas - Chapter 9: (In) Forming (in) Tensions
Chapter 9: [In] Forming [in] Tensions
Ether found Arshan still watching over Ara in the makeshift dinning hall. The boy had curled up upon himself, but still slept.
“Preliminary op–reviews leave much to be desired, ghost,” Doc called, fluttering in and landing on a stone bench beside her.
Arshan gave him a dubious, quizzical look. “If you were you expecting hot baths and luxury–”
Doc jabbed his beak in Ether’s direction, interjecting. “The woman bleeds, and the guests have been impolite.”
Arshan’s eyes widened a little, and he looked over at Ether, his quizzicality staining wit
Libertas - Chapter 7: Apparent Fountains by Halcyal, literature
Literature
Libertas - Chapter 7: Apparent Fountains
Chapter 7: Apparent Fountains
Now that that Ether was underway towards a destination with other people, a question re-emerged from its former abeyance. What about Bartleby? Should she be included amongst this lot, or should she be left alone. Security and risk: uncertainty haunted both options, and also Ether herself. She had not yet shaken off her specter, that pricking claw of fear that she was somehow carrying the spores of calamity along with her. This young man and woman weren’t exactly what she could yet call safe, either. Still, safety was not the only thing that Bartleby had needed, and now there were other people than just Et
A final breath
A final flight
Then on toward the light
And guard the heart beneath the storm
And may the rain that falls be warm
When I am out of sight
In the wind
A flake apart
Yet kindred with its mirth
Like soft notes
Of summer song
That angel breaths gave birth
A flash of hues
Slow lifted up
To star a flower’s crown
And stir a pang
In passing on
Of longing from the ground
A little bounce
A little weave
A dance on air and light
How could there ever
Be a thing
That felt so very right
Love is like flowers that burst into bloom
Love is like leaves that soak in the light
Love is like birds that trill with their sound.
Love is like bark that weathers the storm
Love is like wood that stands through the blight
Love is like roots that hold to the ground.
(Love is the life that flashes in spring, and love is the choice that endures through the cold; in both is it made true and whole.)
We lift up heads
With hearts held high
Though flash of light
May mar the sky.
So let the dread
Come twist and pry.
The bonds we share
Will never die.
Nous sommes unis.
Libertas - Chapter 13: A Flicker of Flame by Halcyal, literature
Literature
Libertas - Chapter 13: A Flicker of Flame
Chapter 13: A Flicker of Flame Doc leaned in with an avian-tilt as white flashed on black before him, his head and beak inclining this way and that, as if taking in a curatorial view of a portrait. “I look at it and it teases me….” He rose back to full height and turned to Ether. “My dear, point-eared woman, is there nothing you do that does not becharm and de–beguile?” “Master Crow,” Ether said from the side, her voice glinting with a faint chiding lilt, “are you trying to flatter me? Because I’m afraid I’ve been around a bit and am not an easy mark.” Doc chuckled. “A shame, that. A shame, too—I note s-merely in passing—that you haven’t made any pretty patches or stiches like this for anyone else.” “Yes,” Ether said. “Well, that’s because no one else so far has gone and ripped up their dress, now, isn’t it; unless, of course, there’s something you haven’t told me?” To the side, Ara snorted despite himself, and then immediately looked embarrassed. He glanced over at them
Libertas - Chapter 12: As if Crickets Chirped by Halcyal, literature
Literature
Libertas - Chapter 12: As if Crickets Chirped
Chapter 12: As if Crickets Chirped
Ether and Ara sat alone in the main fountain square, the remains of their supper lying on the ground about them, metal cans relieved of their lackluster fare. A small cooking device that produced fire by some arcane means still burned with its modest, even flames between them. The lighting of the sky had shifted subtly from a brighter pallor to a duller pallor, the urban colours dimmed and the grey shadows deepened, in what Ether had come to recognize as the tones of a night as good as come for this place. Indeed, in a way, it almost felt like they could be sitting around a campfire, immersed in expectant
Libertas - Chapter 11: A Red Bouquet by Halcyal, literature
Literature
Libertas - Chapter 11: A Red Bouquet
Chapter 11: A Red Bouquet
The siren woman and the one-armed, man-boy assassin had returned that morning—or whatever amounted to mornings here—three uneasy, so-called days since their departure, and learning of the incident with the Empress lady had thrown them both into a sharp mood. The two had even gone so far as to make a passable attempt at giving Doc and the others an apology for subjecting them to the dangers of the ordeal. Apparently, if one could believe it, that hadn’t been their intent. Doc rolled his eyes at the thought. Indeed, apparently only they were allowed to loom over him and his present, ramshackle flock
Libertas - Chapter 9: (In) Forming (in) Tensions by Halcyal, literature
Literature
Libertas - Chapter 9: (In) Forming (in) Tensions
Chapter 9: [In] Forming [in] Tensions
Ether found Arshan still watching over Ara in the makeshift dinning hall. The boy had curled up upon himself, but still slept.
“Preliminary op–reviews leave much to be desired, ghost,” Doc called, fluttering in and landing on a stone bench beside her.
Arshan gave him a dubious, quizzical look. “If you were you expecting hot baths and luxury–”
Doc jabbed his beak in Ether’s direction, interjecting. “The woman bleeds, and the guests have been impolite.”
Arshan’s eyes widened a little, and he looked over at Ether, his quizzicality staining wit
Libertas - Chapter 7: Apparent Fountains by Halcyal, literature
Literature
Libertas - Chapter 7: Apparent Fountains
Chapter 7: Apparent Fountains
Now that that Ether was underway towards a destination with other people, a question re-emerged from its former abeyance. What about Bartleby? Should she be included amongst this lot, or should she be left alone. Security and risk: uncertainty haunted both options, and also Ether herself. She had not yet shaken off her specter, that pricking claw of fear that she was somehow carrying the spores of calamity along with her. This young man and woman weren’t exactly what she could yet call safe, either. Still, safety was not the only thing that Bartleby had needed, and now there were other people than just Et
A final breath
A final flight
Then on toward the light
And guard the heart beneath the storm
And may the rain that falls be warm
When I am out of sight
In the wind
A flake apart
Yet kindred with its mirth
Like soft notes
Of summer song
That angel breaths gave birth
A flash of hues
Slow lifted up
To star a flower’s crown
And stir a pang
In passing on
Of longing from the ground
A little bounce
A little weave
A dance on air and light
How could there ever
Be a thing
That felt so very right
Love is like flowers that burst into bloom
Love is like leaves that soak in the light
Love is like birds that trill with their sound.
Love is like bark that weathers the storm
Love is like wood that stands through the blight
Love is like roots that hold to the ground.
(Love is the life that flashes in spring, and love is the choice that endures through the cold; in both is it made true and whole.)
We lift up heads
With hearts held high
Though flash of light
May mar the sky.
So let the dread
Come twist and pry.
The bonds we share
Will never die.
Nous sommes unis.
Thoughts on the Moonlight by Frank-Jaspers, literature
Literature
Thoughts on the Moonlight
The stoic moon adrift in nothingness
Serenely sails on waters pitch with night,
Seducing starlight with her loneliness
To wither with the dawn in bluish light.
Thus sailing she above the heartless sea,
Knowing well that cold sea wants a heart,
Rains down dull moonlight like a nepenthe,
And colors all my travails with her art.
A shipwrecked soul, irreparably rift,
Forever stranded between estranged lands,
I reach the maiden moon to kiss her hands;
And since we sail alone, recluse, adrift,
I join her flight, diving into the clear
Black waters, heart in hand, and disappear.
The sun was red the day Slicker died. She watched him fall a hundred levels, to shatter against a fat, reinforced gas pipe, shards of him breaking across archways and supports and cables, plummeting into the foggy void below. His blud drenched a cluster of backup valves. It dripped from the nozzles, thick and syrupy.
Slicker was unsticking the gears on the Bigtime, with such focus that he paid no attention to the approach of the Quickhand, making its minute-long journey around the Bigtime's face. He had clamped safety cables to the supports, but was careless. The Quickhand caught a support line, and dragged him off the gears, sending him plu
Art and art sprung from art; the subjects of creation and trans-creation. The relationship between the two is often a complex matter. I am admittedly a chronic tamperer; I have a deep-seated penchant for fiddling, and tinkering and other such pursuits, and so that relationship is something that I have given great consideration to.
Thus (and as I often have at least one foot sunk deep down into the issue), I've decided to reiterate some of my thoughts on the matter. First, I wholeheartedly acknowledge and validate the intimacy between creator and work. It is a thing that I think should be valued and respected (not the least reasons for which
Hey, I just wanted to say thank you for the honor of facing you in this tournament, and for the use of your fantastic character. I hope you decide to stick around while the story plays out!
Indeed, or to a top-tier ranking, or to the highest points of writing and story-craft, or up into the air on big black wings (although the use of the last in outer-space may be somewhat confounded). It was a versatile little bit of phrasing. What can I say, I have a penchant for poly-pertinence. It's just so much more efficient, like playing a musical chord. Why pluck all of the notes individually when you can just play them all at once.