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- Posted: Wed, 15 Aug 2012 13:48:51 +0000
The air filled his lungs as if he hadnâ€™t been breathing for an eternity. But his breath hitched in his throat due all the dust he inhaled and was brought to cough.
The blue haired wizard sat up and swung his legs over the side of the hammock which served as a bed. Though, instead of looking like a hammock it was more similar to a pile of blankets, pillows and clothes which had been attached to the wall in each end. The seemingly young male, which in truth was far older than most, was left to sit on the edge of the hammock. He yawned, smacked his lips, and raised his arms to stretch out. Then he let himself fall backwards into the pile which caused a cloud of dust to erupt around him.
Xavier, or Quinn as he preferred to be called stared up into the ceiling with blank eyes. He was the wizard, the lurid wizard. He was living in the dark woods just north of the village of Fontania and west from Mt Pine. His little cottage was placed just on the side of a hill, beneath the roots of a huge tree. With other words his little den was mostly underground. There were only two colored windows at the front which was in dire need of polishing, but the rest was left in dull darkness. The air was thick with dust and smelled like beewax, fabric, and lamp oil. The place was overstocked. Shelves could cover complete walls and were filled with containers, bottles, boxes, every one of them filled with a different content. And the few parts of the walls which werenâ€™t covered with shelves were covered with different objects. Talismans, knitted works, jewelry. Junk. Something which there was a lot of was crocheted doilies. Both simple and very complex. There was certainly a lack of open spaces. You could almost not see the dark and worn floorboards.
Waking up on the wrong side of the bed was an overrated idiom. Quinn was grumpy almost every day, but today he felt pretty light. This was the worst day of the year. The new yearâ€™s day, which had been from the beginning a festival in the honor of the Harvest Goddessâ€™s birthday. It wasnâ€™t the same as it once had been, but he didnâ€™t ignore the origin. He sat up again and stood up, almost stumbling over a pile of random stuff when he walked over to the commode. He lifted the worn pitcher to pour some of the cold water into the bowl. He washed his face but stopped to look at his wet face in the dirty mirror. â€œGood morning sunshine.â€ He chuckled and dried his face with a towel. â€œSlept well?â€ â€œOh, why, yes. Slept like an angel.â€ â€œHow delightfulâ€¦!â€ He had a conversation with himself as he pulled his clothes on. After that he moved gracefully around his mess, almost as if he were dancing.
Moments later, after breakfast and some other necessities, he flung his front door open and swung on his coat with a wicked laugh. â€œEnjoy yourself while you still can mother once told me, and you better follow it. You hear me?â€ He threw the door closed behind him and walked down the trail with his coat swishing behind him. Today would be the day of festivity, music, food and fireworks. The square would be filled with booths, stands and stalls. There would be decorations and hangovers from New Yearâ€™s eve the day before. Quinn kept his sinister smile. The villagers should enjoy themselves, he would enjoy himself too, since it might be their last New Yearâ€™s Day in Fontania.
ᴍᴏᴏᴅ●Malicious ʟᴏᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ●The road somewhere ᴡɪᴛʜ●Himself