[OOM] Three weeks.
Dec. 17th, 2008 10:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stuck_mynock“Your city is a floating tree-island.”
The Dark Person next to Atton just stared serenely onwards, sleeves folded in front of him, floating gently. “Yes. It moves with the currents, so that we may keep our solitude more easily.” Atton almost detected a hint of sourness. Almost.
“Your city is a floating tree-island.”
“Yes,” the Dark Person agreed, impassively. “It moves with the currents, so that we may keep our solitude more easily.”
Atton ran a hand through his hair.
“Whose idea was that? Is it artificial, or did you just happen to find a floating tree-island just lying around?”
“We do not have individual ideas. We use it, because it moves with the currents, so that we may - ...” Atton just wandered away before the Dark Person could complete the sentence.
Floating tree-island was the wrong term for it, really. There was an island, and on it, a tree that vastly dwarfed the land it was on, roots snaking out into the water as it drifted along. The branches were vast, the canopy of leaves stretched larger than any city Atton had seen, and was silently bustling with identical, disembodied black robes.
“So, there’ll be something for me to eat, right?” Atton asked another Dark Person. “You know? Food?”
“Yes. We keep food for when we have guests.”
---------
The food was still alive.
“Somehow,” Atton remarked, watching a herd of deer prance about a massive room with a single table. “This was not what I imagined.”
“Humans eat deer, do they not?” His guide asked.
“Well, yeah, but they’re usually, you know. Dead.”
The Dark Person was completely still, but somehow, Atton could imagine it blinking bewilderedly. “But then it would not be moving anymore.”
“That’s true, yes.”
The Dark Person considered this, for a moment, then left, leaving Atton behind. Atton rubbed his hands, slowly.
“Right, hunting. Awesome.”
--------
It took Atton a week to find the collection of books he presumed he needed - On the Nature of Dimensional Travel, followed by 105 Tips for tearing the space-time continuum. After that, he had World-crossing artifacts and how to make them and a couple of ancient scrolls.
“You are not a Shifter.” Atton turned, sharply. A tall (tall - she stood easily several inches taller than Atton) paper-white woman loomed over him. “How did you get here?”
“I took the boat. Had some memoirs from some guy. Good reading, I hear.”
The woman arched an eyebrow irritably: “That is not what I meant.”
Atton narrowed his eyes a little. “There was a cave. It’s not really that interesting, to be honest. What’re you researching here?” Subject changes were always a good thing.
The woman shook her head. “I’m not doing research.” Her attention apparently caught by something else, she drifted away to another bookcase.
---------
It took Atton another week to transcribe the relevant passages. The Dark People wouldn’t allow him to take any books with him, and if he wanted to show what they said to anybody else, he’d have to make his own copy of the information.
Atton grudgingly did as he was told, silently thanking whatever weird magical field was in place on this world that seemed to take a turbolaser to language barriers.
He’d only just finished, leaving himself with a folder as thick as his arm, when a Dark Person approached him, shoving a pile of books into his arms.
“Compliments of the White Dragon.”
“Gee. Thanks.”
--------
These books were older, longer, had more pictures. They depicted ancient rituals, hordes of monks surrounding pedestals, and snowy, unnatural landscapes that seemed to serve as warnings for any who might attempt to imitate what they read.
Others depicted massive towers, and above them, swirling vortexes. One showed a man with an orb floating above his head, and the world changing around them.
Atton took notes of as much as he could, of what the pictures showed, and of what little text there was. It took him another week.
--------
“You have everything you came for?” The pale woman asked as Atton packed.
Atton grinned at her. “Well, I don’t think I’ll be finding anything else. I’ve got plenty, for now, at least.”
The pale woman just nodded, slowly, before holding out a vial. Something silvery glowed within, sometimes like liquid, sometimes like gas, other times just like light.
After a moment of silence: “A tear. You will find it useful in creating a key to another world.”
Atton blinked, taking it. “Well. Thanks. I suppose.”
“I will send you back to Marcuria,” the pale woman said, firmly. “Another ship will not be leaving for some time.”
“You don’t have to do that, I’m happy to wait for a ship ...”
“I insist. Take my hand.”
The Dark Person next to Atton just stared serenely onwards, sleeves folded in front of him, floating gently. “Yes. It moves with the currents, so that we may keep our solitude more easily.” Atton almost detected a hint of sourness. Almost.
“Your city is a floating tree-island.”
“Yes,” the Dark Person agreed, impassively. “It moves with the currents, so that we may keep our solitude more easily.”
Atton ran a hand through his hair.
“Whose idea was that? Is it artificial, or did you just happen to find a floating tree-island just lying around?”
“We do not have individual ideas. We use it, because it moves with the currents, so that we may - ...” Atton just wandered away before the Dark Person could complete the sentence.
Floating tree-island was the wrong term for it, really. There was an island, and on it, a tree that vastly dwarfed the land it was on, roots snaking out into the water as it drifted along. The branches were vast, the canopy of leaves stretched larger than any city Atton had seen, and was silently bustling with identical, disembodied black robes.
“So, there’ll be something for me to eat, right?” Atton asked another Dark Person. “You know? Food?”
“Yes. We keep food for when we have guests.”
---------
The food was still alive.
“Somehow,” Atton remarked, watching a herd of deer prance about a massive room with a single table. “This was not what I imagined.”
“Humans eat deer, do they not?” His guide asked.
“Well, yeah, but they’re usually, you know. Dead.”
The Dark Person was completely still, but somehow, Atton could imagine it blinking bewilderedly. “But then it would not be moving anymore.”
“That’s true, yes.”
The Dark Person considered this, for a moment, then left, leaving Atton behind. Atton rubbed his hands, slowly.
“Right, hunting. Awesome.”
--------
It took Atton a week to find the collection of books he presumed he needed - On the Nature of Dimensional Travel, followed by 105 Tips for tearing the space-time continuum. After that, he had World-crossing artifacts and how to make them and a couple of ancient scrolls.
“You are not a Shifter.” Atton turned, sharply. A tall (tall - she stood easily several inches taller than Atton) paper-white woman loomed over him. “How did you get here?”
“I took the boat. Had some memoirs from some guy. Good reading, I hear.”
The woman arched an eyebrow irritably: “That is not what I meant.”
Atton narrowed his eyes a little. “There was a cave. It’s not really that interesting, to be honest. What’re you researching here?” Subject changes were always a good thing.
The woman shook her head. “I’m not doing research.” Her attention apparently caught by something else, she drifted away to another bookcase.
---------
It took Atton another week to transcribe the relevant passages. The Dark People wouldn’t allow him to take any books with him, and if he wanted to show what they said to anybody else, he’d have to make his own copy of the information.
Atton grudgingly did as he was told, silently thanking whatever weird magical field was in place on this world that seemed to take a turbolaser to language barriers.
He’d only just finished, leaving himself with a folder as thick as his arm, when a Dark Person approached him, shoving a pile of books into his arms.
“Compliments of the White Dragon.”
“Gee. Thanks.”
--------
These books were older, longer, had more pictures. They depicted ancient rituals, hordes of monks surrounding pedestals, and snowy, unnatural landscapes that seemed to serve as warnings for any who might attempt to imitate what they read.
Others depicted massive towers, and above them, swirling vortexes. One showed a man with an orb floating above his head, and the world changing around them.
Atton took notes of as much as he could, of what the pictures showed, and of what little text there was. It took him another week.
--------
“You have everything you came for?” The pale woman asked as Atton packed.
Atton grinned at her. “Well, I don’t think I’ll be finding anything else. I’ve got plenty, for now, at least.”
The pale woman just nodded, slowly, before holding out a vial. Something silvery glowed within, sometimes like liquid, sometimes like gas, other times just like light.
After a moment of silence: “A tear. You will find it useful in creating a key to another world.”
Atton blinked, taking it. “Well. Thanks. I suppose.”
“I will send you back to Marcuria,” the pale woman said, firmly. “Another ship will not be leaving for some time.”
“You don’t have to do that, I’m happy to wait for a ship ...”
“I insist. Take my hand.”
