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 Posted: Tue May 01, 2012 4:15 pm
C H A P T E Rxx1 ◗ Bottle ↪ Dust Spin
[S] Sunshine
[S] Wish You Were Here
[S] See The Light
C H A P T E Rxx2 ◗ Dust Spin ↪ Child
[S] Comfort Me
[R] Weird Sisters
[Q] Sea of Teeth
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Posted: Wed May 02, 2012 11:00 pm
S U N S H I N E ◗It was a brisk and beautiful morning in Idia.
The sun had only just begun to rise, blooming pink and blue across the sky to break apart the night. He was the light and carried with him the promise of a new day, and with him rose The Caravan of The Sun. They were a small sect, but dutiful in their worship of Him, bringer of the day. Each morning they met beside the Ocean to greet Him, and every night they would return to mourn His passing. Lana never wondered why the Sun was masculine and not simply a thing of great power. It was spoken by her tribe that all things had a gender and should be praised as such; that was that. So, when the congregation clasped their hands overhead like fleshy halos and spoke a word of thanks to the new day, she joined in with a righteous "Thanks be to him, bringer of the light" and she did so without question. It had been this way since the day of her birth - which, as her father often bragged, came about during the hottest summer of his youth.
The Sun meant a great deal to her people.
In an equally pious fashion, Lana took to her feet when the full face of the Sun slipped out of the Ocean to stretch her shadow as tall as her legs would permit. A young lady rarely reached to see the full face of the Sun, and Lana was no different than most other girls in attendance. There was a line of them, the girls ten and under, that stretched twelve arms long or so. These younglings made up the final row. They still had much to learn and their wandering thoughts were considered an insult to the Gods. Children were to be kept just out of sight during rituals to avoid any affront to their bringer of light and his court, and the children felt no shame in that. Before Lana and her sisters faced the Sun in all his glory they were expected to master a number of important practices. Meditation, Identification, Sorcery... all the spiritual requirements of a proper human, though this tribe referred to their enlightened as Shamans.
They were a small and eccentric sect... but dutiful in their worship of Him.
Had this group of self-described Sorcerers began in any town but Idia, it would be safe to say that they would not have bred long enough to bring Lana into existence. In realizing that, Lana would one day be spiteful toward her unusual upbringing, but in this moment she was happy. Everything had a soul, and to make kin of every tribe was her only desire. Their worship was an act of love and the only sin this unusual religion may have committed was the lust for deeper understanding.
Again, these were lessons Lana would only learn with time.
As the Sun took his place in the sky, glowing like the crown of a king, the shore was once again a calm and simple place. The adults, Lana's own parents included, lowered their arms and patted the sweat from their brows. The morning ritual was complete, and though her practiced body had grown to enjoy these daily exercises, children are often urged to take part in a far more innocent sort of magic. The small group of girls screamed and laughed, breaking for the waning tide as fast as their sun-kissed legs would carry them. It was time to play.
'Tag! You're it, Lana!' One long-haired child called out to another, herding the smaller girls in an evasive pattern so skillful it mocked migratory birds. Lana, being the oldest, was used to being forced into these positions. She'd always had little interest in games and preferred digging in the sand for tiny crabs or sticking her toes in the mouths of sticky urchins. Unfortunately, being big sister meant entertaining the little ones. She barely had time to brush the sand from her knees...
"What are you doing?"
The question was accusatory and belittling, but being so young, Lana hardly noticed. She turned about, putting a face to the sound and finding it difficult to take her eyes from it. The face was light skinned and lighter eyed with fair hair, chubby, just a touch taller than most boys his presumed age should be. Lana could tell he wasn't from Idia. He looked like a moon child... or, in common tongue, someone from the north. They didn't get much Sun up there.
"Playing tag." She answered simply, crossing her arms to match the boy's confidant pose.
"With all those people?" The boy spat, narrowing his pale blue eyes towards Lana's brood. He was right to be surprised. There were six children in all and four adults counting one Aunt and Uncle. It must have been a curious sight, all of them sharing the same long brown hair and dark sea-colored eyes.
This may have been the first time Lana considered her tribe interesting.
Different.
After a lengthy pause to consider his meaning, Lana replied. "That's my family."
"All of them?" The boy wasn't convinced. He dug his feet into the sand, which Lana noticed as hefty leather boots. She looked down at her own feet, tan and freckled by the Sun, and suddenly felt naked. She meant to turn and run off, like most children do when cornered, but the older boy sensed her hesitation and quickly filled the silence. "That's a big family."
Lana was intrigued.
"Don't you have a big family?" She asked, leaning forward a bit as if his answer might come out a whisper. Didn't everyone have a family like hers? Her parents always said that family was meant to be big so the young ones could learn from the older ones and nobody would ever have to worry about being alone. It was a wonderful comfort.
"Just my mom and dad." The strange boy replied. He too took notice of Lana's feet and studied them intently. His attempt to keep her just a bit longer seemed to be taking. Shading his eyes from the steadily rising disk above, the stranger drew a shadow over the sand. Sunshine burned behind him like candle light breaking through the cracks of a door frame. It was otherworldly.
"Oh." Lana could barely find her voice. Only one child. How terribly lonely it must have been. Being a girl, and a sensitive one at that, Lana felt for the boy without him even wanting for company. "Would you like to play with us?"
The strange boy smiled. ◗◗◗ Another morning had come to pass, and once again Lana found herself amongst smiling adults and children who screeched like Seagulls as they ran down the bay. It felt like only days had passed since she shared their enthusiasm. The sheer joy of breaking free from tasks and labors, no matter how enjoyable they could be, was unmatched in childhood. This time, Lana was the one relieving her temples of sweat and licking the salt from her lips. She was thirteen now, nearly a woman. It wouldn't be long before she was granted a place beside her Mother in the face of the Sun if she so desired. Entering her teens had been trying. As she grew, so did her experiences with the world outside her tight knit family.
Things were starting to feel a little overwhelming.
The older ones took to their familiar stroll, spilling their thoughts and insights and profound experiences from rituals past, but Lana always stayed behind. Not that she wasn't prepared or lacked in profundity, she took a great interest in nature and adored all that it had gifted her. It was a childish and familiar name that kept her distant from her parents, and his name was Rand.
"Lana!"
The familiar voice called to her like a loon and the name's owner quickly spun about to meet him. He always did like to sneak up on her. Perhaps it was the nostalgia of their first meeting in this very place around this very time, but a daily embrace beneath the morning Sun had become as practiced and beloved a ritual to Lana as her daily communing. This embrace may have been the same had it not been for a particularly sour note fixed to the end of Rand's greeting.
"Did I miss the carnival?"
Lana's smile faded. Rand wasn't one to hide his amusement. He thought of her family as strange and often poked fun at her little-known sect and their busy work.
"Stop it." She begged, brow heavy. His gentle embrace was quickly dismissed in favor of the sand. Lana fell backwards, scooping piles of the pristine white grains over her feet until they resembled mountains. Even with thirteen years behind her, that love of imagination had yet to abandon her, and she often slipped. Her Mother praised her for her sudden sparks of innocence, claiming true sorcery came from the ability to access one's inner child.
What a strange woman.
"What's wrong?" He crooned, feigning innocence. Rand wasn't a mean spirit, but he definitely wasn't ignorant.
"Nothing..." The little mountain replied, looking up her nose at the boy who refused to sit beside her. She often wondered why he had such a strong aversion to the dirt. He still wore his shoes on the beach. She fluttered her eyes appreciatively, teasing. "I missed you is all."
"I know." Rand said, grinning. A few short years in the hot southern climate had stretched him thin, bringing a certain gauntness to his face. His cheeks and nose were ruddy, not from laughter, but from the Sun. Northerners didn't tan - they burned. "So, does that mean you'll go with me?"
Lana's breath caught in her throat.
"Quit joking like that." The pair often mused about flying, sailing or running off to a far away place for want of something adventurous. Most children make schemes that are often forgotten with age, but Rand was always frightfully serious. Lana should have remembered that before teasing him.
"I mean it." He began, sucking in a deep breath for effect. "I'm tired of this place. It's too stuffy and our parents are so..."
"My parents aren't so bad." Lana cut, letting her eyes wander down the beach where the bleary visions of the perfect pair seemed just out of ear's reach. Yes, they were a bit loony, but they loved one another and they loved their children. She had nothing to fear from them. Rand on the other hand was a stranger who had always been restless.
"Look at them." The boy seethed, the unfounded hatred he harbored for his own parents flowering. "They take this whole nature worship thing way too seriously. You said yourself, it's crazy."
"So?" The noise was barely an answer. Lana had often confided in Rand, and he wasn't one to use it against her, but from time to time little bits of her doubt spilled out of his mouth, pushing her towards change. It was obvious that her parents were a little off, but they weren't dangerous. Not in the most basic sense, anyway. She had often struggled with their teaching methods, mostly by Rands's silent influence. Without him, she'd have been utterly brainwashed. Yes, nature was worth loving, but it was no wrathful spirit.
Lana had unearthed that bit of wisdom, tearful and confused, with Rand as her guiding light.
Oh, how she trusted him.
"I can't." She whined. The weight of denying him was almost too much to bear. She wanted to be with him, but what young woman doesn't want the attention of some older boy? He was charming and intelligent and very interested in her. It almost felt wrong to tell him no.
"You can so." He said in an authoritative tone. "You're old enough to do anything you want. They can't stop you from leaving."
Lana knew he was right. Her parents were incredibly understanding. So long as she carried light in her heart, they would forgive her every wrong doing. She could always depend on them for that. Convincing them to let her leave with Rand was another struggle. When Lana had the confidence to speak of him in their company she was quickly and severely silence.
'He has a darkness to him, Lana. You can't see in the darkness. Something about it simply isn't right.'
As understanding as they were, The Caravan of The Sun were quick to judge the darkness. Lana still feared sleeping without the moon. Perhaps they were right. She had never been too close to the boy. There was still time to dismiss him completely and return to a time more innocent. The girl closed her eyes and felt the warmth of the Sun on her face. The answer was right on the tip of her tongue.
"They love me, Rand. I could never leave them." And how simple a motivator was love! So long as someone cared so deeply for her, she could not disappoint them.
"But I love you."
Lana may have been mature for her age, but the unfortunate girl had little experience with flattery.
"Don't play around." Her tone was stern and resolute but her stomach felt as though it were overflowing. Love wasn't a word to toy around with. One loved the sea, the sky and the Sun. One did not love troublesome boys with impulsive natures who failed at stealing kisses.
"It's no joke... you know I do. I've loved you since the day I saw you." Without another word the pale boy lowered himself to the earth. His body, darkly clothed, sunk into the sand beside his proposed love. If it wasn't true, he sure was making quite a show of it. Lana simply stared, her dark blue eyes crashing against Rand's icy ones. Both surged, but neither really moved. Lana tried to pull away and argue on behalf of her family but found herself unable to do so.
It was too late. She froze.
"If it's true, then stay. Stay here for a little while longer." Hands met, silencing her gentle pleas. They'd held hands often and without much thought, but this time it really seemed important that her small, dark hands remained firmly in his.
"Are you in or out?" Rand breathed, brows knit over piercing eyes. He smiled as Lana's lips began to tremble.
"I...I don't know." She was truly considering it. People their age made silly decisions all the time based on nothing more than a feeling, and it would seem three simple words had planted the seed for quite a feeling. Lana's overflowing stomach was now stirring up whirlpools around her heart. Moments ago the thought of losing Rand was distressing, but now it was almost unbearable.
"Where will we go?"
The boy stood, pulling her to her feet along side him.
"I'll build you a house by the Ocean. Just the two of us. Forever."
"You promise?" Forever seemed like a very long time. The sea went on forever. The Sun burned forever.
Rand released her little hand, retreated into his vest pocket and pulled out a perfect little cowrie shell. It shone bright as a pearl in his upturned palm, nearly blending with the ghostly white of his skin. The simple gift was presented to her like a fine ring, and she gladly took it.
"Promise."
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Posted: Mon May 07, 2012 2:57 am
W I S HxxY O UxxW E R ExxH E R E ◗To locals, the haphazard shack on the dunes was considered abandoned. The rise and fall of the sun had lent an even, chalky white to it's cracking, yellowish paint. Surprisingly, these peeling curls weren't the most obvious testament to the high-rise cottage's disrepair. The door had been replaced with a bleached tapestry, strung up at the top two corners by push-pins and rope. Every gust of salty, sea-blown air tempted to render the swollen cords, but the blanket held fast, wavering proudly in the wind. The house was always silent. There was the occasional crashing of surf and calling gulls that echoed from within, but no human sounds to speak of. It had been this way for a long time. Early afternoon's light burned on, piercing through tartan shades to paint day colors across the stark shape of a girl's body. Slender and petite, her limbs quivered and stretched beneath thin sheets, toes peeking out to test the air.
The body was unsatisfied with the cold, abandoning it's wandering in favor of a well practiced fetal position. This was both comfortable and safe. Definitely preferable to the curious unknown beyond her bed. The girl stayed folded over for a long time. It wasn't until the Sun trailed from the headboard in favor of her face that the body arched towards the ceiling, resting on either forearm with a defeated sigh. She was awake, but not happily and long after sunrise. Lana hadn't woken with the Sun in months. Most days she wouldn't wake up at all, turning about in the swaddling arms of her quilt, eyes guessing the time by the length of her shadow on the wall. Although it sounded like depression, Lana hardly had the time to feel it. Waking hours were spent sipping wine at the window, waiting on lonesome records as they played her into the horizon. The days dragged on like this forever, but only when she ran out of bottles. Otherwise they were short and accommodating. At the end of the day, be it sunrise or sunset, Lana's bed was always waiting and as warm and cozy as ever.
Accommodating.
Wrapping itself in a mint-green throw, a frumpier version of Lana tip-toed across the cool wood floor to throw open heavy, woolen shades. Thicker fabric kept the light out, an absolute requirement for long-term sleeping. Lana treated this addiction to unconsciousness like an art. Among her required materials were blankets of any size, constant wood fires and a near endless supply of wine, the latter of which was dwindling rapidly. Two pale hands grasped outwardly for warmth and optimism but returned empty. The half bottle of port was not where she had left it. The frail thing pressed her palms to her cheeks to properly execute a long, drawn-out groan.
Shopping.
The very word was enough to make Lana sick. The thought of leaving her little hut very literally crumpled her to the floor. She sulked there for a moment, testing the hard wood against her mostly naked body. The temperature was sobering. Judging by the distance between her twisting shadow and the bathroom, it was barely noon. The sun was out. Tide was low. Shops were open. Damn it, there was no excuse not to go out. Just a few more minutes of writhing, flopping and sighing.
Dragging herself and her blanket, Lana turned up her nose at the shower and observed her sagging face in the bathroom mirror. Her color was gone, but those stubborn freckles were as obnoxious as ever. Each one of them served as a reminder of former expeditions across sandy, sunlit beaches. Even now the waves called to her. She heard them breaking over the black rocks just beyond her window.
"Fine. I'll go." Guiltily pulling on a white dress shirt, Lana abandoned the blanket where she stood. It didn't matter. There would be no one to bother with the mess but herself. Hands and knees led her to a dirty pair of leather shoes and dry sand fell from their open heels like a fine rain. Sea green eyes watched lazily as the trail tapered into nothing. A strange longing overcame her. Shoes weren't quite necessary today. She needed money. Rooting through the same bedside cupboard where most of her shoes had taken up residence, Lana found six forgotten single bills. It was enough for something warm and red.
Just one more pathetic lay about on the floor and Lana would give in to the longing.
She stepped into the sun with hesitance, thinning her eyes into tiny slits. She wasn't angry at the Sun, but it was obvious that they were in the middle of a long and tireless spat. Whether He was to blame for her disposition wasn't important. Lana had to be the 'bigger man' if she wanted for anything outside of her leaning house. Sluggish feet once again took to their toes, hopping gently from step to step, cautious of splinters and broken glass. Most of her bottles didn't make it to the sand. ◗◗◗ Town hadn't been the cluster of activity that Lana had been dreading. In fact it was downright dead for a Sunday. Nosy tourists loved Sundays on the seafront. Even the friendly young man at her usual liquor purveyor seemed disinterested in chatting and was Lana ever grateful for that. No more awkward a conversation existed than explaining how, once again, she was celebrating a promotion with a little party or having a date over for dinner. The locals must have assumed one of two things; Lana Sparrow was either a dedicated professional or a dedicated tart. Surely the shopkeeper knew that familiar act and considered her nothing more than a lush.
Maybe that's why he'd given her such a generous offer today. Pity. Along with her usual bottle of Cabernet came a box of mislabels and assorted bottles, some ornamental, some full and ready for drinking. Lana wasn't above handouts. The boy behind the counter had always treated her nicely. He'd even stopped asking about Rand.
She assumed he'd finally noticed the redness that came to her eyes whenever she replied.
Lana turned her eyes skyward, burning tears away before they had a chance to breed. She followed the lazy glide of a stray Seagull if only to take her mind off of the weight of the box in her arms. She hadn't bothered to look inside. Even if it were just a box of trash, she had one good bottle to see her through the next few days. It wouldn't be long before she'd need to find another job. With every step the crate jostled and jangled, conjuring a strange fog of nostalgia. A handful of cowrie shells dancing over one another like coins in a jar. It was the same sound.
Fighting back tears a second time, Lana turned instead to anger. All the time spent collecting them, and for what? So the bun-shaped shells could clutter up bottles on bathroom shelves and windowsills, a constant reminder of a silly childhood promise that was all for naught. It wouldn't be long before she'd settle into bed with lit candles and a bottle or two. She'd get good and drunk, round up all the cowrie shells in their oddly shaped bottles and take them in a bundle onto the wet sands. She'd throw them all into the ocean, or at least say she would. She'd make a big deal out of it, too. Then, like clockwork, the haze would settle and the anger would subside... she'd take the bundle in and every bottle would find it's place again.
This happened often.
Ashamed, Lana stared at her feet the rest of the walk home. ◗◗◗ "So, what have we here?" Like a child on Christmas morning, Lana rubbed her palms together. Comfortably cross-legged on the fading orange sofa in the living room with nothing but a wooden crate, and oh how excited she was! Although she couldn't find a smile at the moment, Lana was beaming. A green bottle with wax over it's cork screamed Bourbon. Perfect for a humid night. Right beside it sat a fat, square bottle, clear, filled to the brim with green liquid. Careful removal of the top nearly blinded her with the overwhelming scent of liquorice. A special find indeed! Just as Lana was beginning to think the clerk boy had a bit of a crush on her, she spotted the dud.
Garbage.
Lana lifted the rounded bottle, almost similar to a flask, in her shaking hands. It was cold to the touch, clammy, a bit gritty... as if she'd pulled it from the ocean, the strange bottle left her hands feeling moist and sticky. Without thinking, she brought the bottle close to her face and inhaled deeply. Crabs. It smelled just like a tide pool. How curious. Upon further inspection, Lana saw them. Seashells like watermarks in all different colors floating about the belly of the bottle. It had to be an optical illusion. Perhaps a hallucination from her liquid diet. The dark-haired woman pursed her lips, loosing a heavy sigh. The shells weren't fading. Was this supposed to be a gift? A joke, perhaps? The simplest explanation seemed the most accurate.
"What an idiot." Lana murmured, setting the strange object on her coffee table. It looked right at home there beside leather-bound books, sand dollars and stacked stones. After a short while, the girl smirked in approval. Her first sort of smile in days. "Lucky for you, I keep a very naturalistic house."
Lana abandoned the conversation for an alluring, claret bottle.
There was sleep to be sought.
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Posted: Sun Oct 21, 2012 12:27 am
S E ExxT H ExxL I G H T ◗Lana's breath fogged the bay window, obscuring countless beads of dew on the other side. Fall had arrived. She could feel it's knuckles through the glass, heavy with gloom and rapping with eerie persistence. The chill seemed to overpower everything, even the heart-like lapping of waves against the shore. A quick and spiteful memory stole her from the oriel in favor of long, white sands with teal waters and crystal skies. Little feet splashed white and tan along the rocks. What a cruel thing, solitude. Resting her cheek against the glass offered little respite from the harsh throb of loneliness. Having grown tired of her own reflection, Lana took another drag of her cigarette, exhaled and forced shut the half-cracked window. A sigh of chilly air filled her nose with faraway pine and spice. Oddly comforting. Creatures like Lana would normally dismiss the details of Winter with thick blankets and too many socks but she'd grown fond of the yearly change. Besides, with winter came warm cider.
Cigarette smudged and heartbeat settled, Lana's willowy arms claimed the nearest sweater. She held herself tight, crossing the wooden floor with painfully cold toes. A playful leap from the floor to the frumpy tangerine sofa proved clever enough and her prize was a homely throw blanket. She stretched, yawned, worked herself into a comfortable tangle and set her placid gaze upon the wall. Mornings had become less evasive as the days grew shorter but Lana couldn't quite say why. She had nothing to accomplish and nowhere to go. Not like she had anyone to waste her flighty observations or early rises on. Dawn was barely breaking as a purple, melancholic light glazed the room... and a shadow crept within it.
Her eyes, now squinting half-moons, followed the creeping with some anxiety. Surely it was a hallucination brought about by her absurdly normal sleep schedule. A dozen rising and falling reeds danced across the wall and she somehow managed to trace their subtle movements to the table. There she found the origin of that soft, ethereal glow... mistaking that glow for the morning sun seemed ridiculous now. Lana 'harrumphed' over her attention to detail - or complete lack of - and crumpled to the floor, sans blanket. In the faces of several abandoned bottles danced those strange reeds, falling and rising eye stalks with a porcelain shell in tow. A hermit crab, fragmented by his own glass prison.
It wasn't an unusual sight by any means. With a house so close to the ocean, Lana expected much worse than crabs. To find one in the belly of an old, dusty bottle was a little extreme, not to mention the soft nightlight that came with it was so horribly enticing. Open-mouthed and head tilting, the lonesome girl did what anyone in her position might do... she decided this curious thing was hers.
Shaking hands swept the forest of bottles aside and grabbed hungrily at the makeshift terrarium. A fine layer of dust betrayed the thing's age and nearly pulled a sneeze from Lana's nose. Squinting ceased as bright, blue eyes grew astounded by the unexplained relic. Now memories trickled onward in steady waves - a box of jingling bottles, bare feet, the freckled boy behind the drug store counter. Yes, he was the obvious go-to. Lana's voice broke as the first words of morning presented themselves just shy of poetic eloquence.
"...what the hell did that boy give me?"
◗◗◗
Her hands were shaking. In truth, her whole body was shaking, but Lana could only blame a fraction of it on nerves. It must have been near fifty degrees on the shore front, a cold not often seen and very unwelcome to the locals. If there were ever a curse to this sort of living it was that terrible aversion to a sunless weather. Tucking her nose beneath a tickling burgundy hid her smile, but it did little for the flush in her cheeks. The air was wet and biting. The liquor store on the corner had never looked so enticing... well, it had on many occasions, but never had it looked so warm and safe.
Ruefully unmittened hands pushed the chilly glass door, strands of bells went giggling and lazy footsteps shuffled behind the counter... but these feet weren't attached to anyone she knew. In a fit of embarrassment Lana checked her thin leather watch -- barely eleven. In all her growing shame she'd never entered her place of poison worship any earlier than four. By logic, Freckles wouldn't show his face for hours. The bottle shuffled and drooped beneath the fabric grip of her slim bicep, tinkling as it made itself known. Flashy thing.
"Hi."
Lana held her breath and forced her crystal eyes toward the counter, returning the clerk's required greeting with a half-hidden and terribly unfortunate grin. 'There's no way I don't look homeless.' She mused, fumbling around the large, strangely shaped bottle, her overhanging sleeves and several feet of winding scarf. No matter, it was smarter to say something and leave than to make herself seem strange.
"Uh... yeah, hello. How are you?" That seemed weird. Was she being weird? Again Lana crumpled as the bottle threatened to slip from her grasp. It carefully made it's way from the fold of her arm to her stinging palms and was quickly swallowed by her scarf. No use in showing it off as she backward stepped towards the door.
The shopkeeper stood quiet, though obviously amused. His thick eyebrows were raised and eager, mouth stretched into a thin and upturned line as he held up a less than enthusiastic thumb. "Pretty good... how are you?" The warmth in his voice suggested imminent laughter as his gooey brown eyes melted downward, settling in a comfortable pool around her hands.
Lana's grin widened, cheeks ruddier now than they had been against the misty cold. He was teasing her. She looked stupid. At least he had no idea who she was, she could take comfort in that little blessing. A sudden spark of genius sent her hands to her sides and front, eyes following in an equally curious pattern. "I forgot my wallet!" She chirped, careful of the delicate glass globe between her hands and her back met the door. He seemed to accept that excuse as it was probably very common among daily drinkers.
"Oh, bad luck." He replied, planting his elbows on the counter and chin atop his hands. His grin only widened as she pushed, then pulled, then tip-toed out as if she'd never been seen at all.
Floods of laughter broke through the pale of his lips, chasing Lana's steps for what seemed like years. What was she thinking, anyway? The bottle wasn't so important, was it? Just a piece of trash. Maybe it had grown a strange sort of fluorescent mold and it was attracting pests. Now she was blushing. If she had actually shown a bottle of mildew and garbage to that boy she'd never be able to show her face downtown again. Lana was panting when she reached the sand. Despite all of her logical chiding she was no less convinced that the bottle was worth all of the effort. "Maybe I'm just too stubborn." She sighed, turning the bottle about in both hands. Her forehead gently kissed the cool wooden door and it seemed the adventure would end as it began...
"Good morning!"
Lana stifled a scream but couldn't save the bottle. It spiraled from her clutched fingers in slow motion, stilling all efforts to be seized with an icy crunch before rolling towards the new and familiar voice. Her eyes screwed into a painful wince but Lana managed a cloud of relief when the bottle was raised by her company, completely unscathed. Sand and wood had echoed a terrible crashing sound all around them but apparently the thing was sturdy. She held out her hands in want as the boy stammered out dozens of oddly worded apologies. Lana would have paid no mind if it hadn't been for his bare hands, so soft and freckled.
Eyes met and anxious smiles were exchanged. In a fit of excitement Lana did something very uncharacteristic of her sober self - she took the man by his sleeve and shuffled him into her home. The door clicked shut, pulling out their fading voices with a final bit of effort.
"How do you know where I live?"
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Posted: Mon Oct 29, 2012 12:35 pm
C O M F O R TxxM E ◗Glasses tumbled beneath her fervent hands but Lana seemed unaware of the cacophony that followed. Mikko, not so oblivious to disaster, screwed his blue eyes shut with every uncomfortable sound. He'd done his best to assure that drinks weren't at all necessary so early in the morning but in her current state Lana couldn't stand the sight of him. Not that the young man was unlikable. In fact, she found him very charming with his ruddy hair and stormy eyes. That in itself was the problem. 'Half a glass to calm my nerves' her timid mind begged.
"It's weird, right?" She chirped, fumbling with the door of the freezer.
Though he seemed to recognize the bottle and turned it about readily, Lana could tell from each stolen glance that he wasn't at all familiar with the trinket. '...and why should he be?" She didn't dare mention it's absurd nature during the day when there was no trace of spectral light to be found. Winded stories about fragments of borealis and ghost crabs would only drive him away... so she shuffled quietly through the icebox instead. After all, he hadn't looked her up in the archaic yet perfectly excusable phone book to ponder over a terrarium. In his own words, the boy sought her out because she "always seemed so lonely."
So he wasn't as charming as he seemed.
"Rum and Coffee alright?" As far as gracious hosts go, Lana certainly was playing the part. Waist deep in the fridge with mugs clenched in either fist she read aloud labels with little pause in between. As if her guest hadn't sold every bottle in attendance.
"Whatever you're having is fine." He assured, tracing uncomfortable circles around the room. The sound of palms desperate for warmth pulled Lana's head 'round. The house was as chilly as it was unconventional but it suited her. She hoped it was thoughts like these keeping the boy's lips tight and not the bitter spice of distaste. Stumbling from the fridge with bottles tucked neatly in either armpit, Lana grinned through her embarrassment.
"Here." The pale girl mumbled, hurriedly tipping cold bottles into steaming mugs. Her company shivered as his fingers met the cup, struggling awkwardly to juggle his attention between the odorous trinkets. The bottle was gently abandoned in favor of warmth but the creatures inside didn't take notice. They were far too busy with instinct and exploration to be self aware. Lana watched the tiny tide pool breathe and sway with tired eyes. Mikko coughed. It seemed like hours passed before the pair stomached their glasses and settled beside the old, wood-burning stove.
Lana's smiles came easier then.
◗◗◗
"So, tell me about that guy again. The one who gave you the bottle." Lana stretched, letting a yawn as her back met the wall. Mikko lowered his forehead to his knees, chuckling helplessly.
"Alright, so..." He began, weaving his fingers and to place both hands over his head. "...he had a shawl hat, like the kind an old woman would wear. It was so freaky. And all of this weird junk. He looked like king of the hobos." Shrieks of laughter filled the empty room, sending both Lana and her odd guest into squirming fits. He'd gone over the travelling man several times, but each pass and it's mimes proved more entertaining than the last. "He thought it was treasure, I felt so bad so I had to trade him something. I guess I just forgot to throw it out so... here it is." He quipped, gesturing to the strange little bottle on the coffee table.
Lana nearly sprayed her drink, catching breaths between high pitched giggles. To think that her strange treasure came from a mindless vagrant. Did he even know what he had before it came into her hands?
"I gave him a soda for it... then he Knighted me !" Mikko roared, struggling for calm and shaking beneath his hunched shoulders.
"Well, it's one fancy night light." Lana sighed, curling into a comfortable, drunken 'C' on the cold wooden floor. Even now the curious treasure ebbed and pulsed from it's nearby seat. Sometimes it seemed to be humming or at the very least shushing her and their company. She could barely hear the ocean over the bottle's warm hissssss...
"I can't believe that little crab managed to crawl in there, though. I hope he doesn't starve." Lana twisted, tapping her nails against the cold, thick glass. The gentle crustacean within skittered forward. Curious. It never seemed interested in what Lana was doing, but the longer she carried it close and the more she spoke of it the more the hermit crab seemed to warm up to her. He was quickly becoming something of a pet.
Mikko's teasing fingers joined in and Lana returned to the safety of her blanket. The crab didn't like this new, larger hand. He skittered backward some, eyes bobbing as if to desperately seek his female. His - or her - timid nature pulled another stomach of drunken laughter from the spectators.
"You should give him a name." The boy joked, resting on his heels. It was a bad idea. If Lana knew anything about tiny crabs it was their short, sensitive lifespans and naming it would only make her frown when she woke up one morning to find it dead... but he was so safe in his bottle. He'd make it long enough to earn a name and his pretty pink and blue shell wouldn't part with him. Her hands moved across the coffee table for inspiration. It didn't take long. A water stained copy of The Eddas begged for the honor.
"Mikko..." Lana grinned, dusting the ancient novella and flipping through it's yellowed pages. Closing the cold space between them, her fingers found a familiar chapter. "Do you know the story of Sigmund?"
The pair took turns reading aloud for quite some time. The crab, be it lady or not, had found it's name and Lana was almost certain there was no great secret behind her silly trinket. With only flickering wood and hazy bottle light as their lantern the pair drifted lazily through time, burning stomachs tempting their fingers and toes to brush accidentally. Thanks to the rum, they were becoming fast friends.
"Mikko..." Lana sighed, pulling herself away from the crumpling book in a fleeting moment of trust, "...the man who used to live with me..."
Mikko sat up in silence, smoothing down his rich leather jacket to avoid her watery gaze. His brows tumbled into a sad, downward slope. Lana couldn't help but chew her tongue. The way he held his breath -- he'd been biting his tongue, too. Her face went warm and she couldn't help but smile. That story could wait. She was dizzy.
"...nevermind."
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Posted: Mon Nov 12, 2012 11:18 pm
[WEIRD SISTERS with Lana and Niki. xxxxxxxxxx◗◗◗◗◗ Time: Early Evening Location: A Small Town on the South of IdiaA dead sky hung it's head over the horizon. Old man Winter was low. So low that the clouds wept like milky, grey rivers into the sea. Ghost eyes. Lana hummed herself warm, pursing those plump, powdered lips to blow stomach-fulls of hot air into her sleeves. If she weren't so cold she'd be smiling. After all, the sky was a strange and wondrous thing this time of year. Light streamed in sharp curtains and lingered on the waves. They transformed before her into billowing motes of sun, dust and fire. It was sad. Sad and beautiful. Not at all unlike the wandering Market scene that threatened to steal all of her once hard-earned coin.
Lana's eyes went wide at most things, but nothing lit her up like orange. 'Thank Fall', she breathed, scaring the chilly air into a fog with an open sigh. There weren't many flowering trees in the Town's Square but those which remained stole the show with colorful lanterns and crisp leaves. Pumpkins, be they garden variety or Fairytale, crowded the cobbled streets, foreheads pressed together for warmth. Fat little things. Between the silly placement of large, lumpy gourds and the bustle of the early-evening crowd, Lana struggled not to nudge and be nudged.
What a mess this little town was during the Holidays. Children, ruddy cheeked and bundled, squealed as they ran, nearly toppling the fragile young woman in their path. Lana chirped, pulling herself tight against the nearest stand. The little ones passed, peeking eagerly into cauldrons of bubbling cider and bitter green apples stuck with sticks, still awaiting their glossy red coats. Just as the terrible two disappeared into the surging crowd, their gloved hands met. Such a sight used to make Lana feel hollow, but there was a long-awaited and soothing spice in the air. The scent of pie and windswept leaves and candle light. It was, without a doubt, the comfortable smell of something orange.
A shuffling just behind her head sent a shiver down Lana's neck. The stall she was so unpleasantly pressed against was bursting with knits. And color. And soft, fuzzy perfection! Without thinking, Lana did what anyone under the spell of a chilly, fall evening would do. She took hold of a pumpkin colored scarf and buried her cheek into the warm, alluring wool.
"I must have one." She purred...
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Posted: Fri Nov 16, 2012 10:44 am
Homeward Bound.
(Dust Spin --> Child Quest*) There are seashells everywhere and it's probably safe to say Lana didn't put them there -- there being her entire home's floor, cupboards, the sink -- everywhere. Naturally, her bottle is not amongst the many of its essence, but instead found tipping precariously on the window sill with a threat of falling into the hide tide below. That's right: to make matters worse, the ocean itself has come in to Lana's very doorstep, seeking to reclaim its wayward child and all those within the house -- if it means taking the house with it, so be it! What does Lana do? Letting the bottle go means it's gone forever -- but to get it back, to understand its sentience will save her home! Does she finally treat the bottle as more than garbage? Will she understand the special nature of the bottle before her house finds itself in a watery grave? *Please note, there's a minimum word requirement of 500 words for this quest.
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Posted: Tue Nov 20, 2012 12:02 am
S E AxxO FxxT E E T H ◗The house was falling in.
Fingers clutched sheets as long, skinny limbs fought sweltering blankets. Lana was a netted fish, writhing with fright as another wave of nausea overtook her. Like a first time sailor on a rocking ship the drunken girl-child crumpled to the floor, holding her head in her hands, desperate to ease the churning. Not moments ago she was wrapped in a deep, wine-induced slumber... and now it seemed an Earthquake was claiming her crumbling home. Without proper time to rub her eyes the vertigo was overwhelming. Every heartbeat was deafening, drowning out the screams that echoed in from the darkness. If it weren't for the searing pain in her feet Lana might not have noticed the seashells. The house lurched once more, knocking her back to the safety of her mattress. Foot in hand, Lana pried fragments of pointy cockle from her heel. A red pearl bloomed across pale flesh.
"Is that... a broken bottle?" Lana's tongue was thick and her words came awkward and far apart. Lowering herself to the floor between wooden groans, the bright whites and pinks were betraying. There were hundreds of them, stretching across the room like uneven dunes. Cowries fell from swinging lanterns like rivers of milk and Sand Dollars, like flat skipping stones, made a makeshift path to the hall. Lana pressed the heel of her hands to her eyes, stunned. It couldn't be real.
She tip toed between tide pool remnants and reality refused to burst. Beyond the faint light of the bedroom the house had grown dark. Lanterns, usually left glimmering for want of comfort, had overflown and broken by the force of stray shells. The fireplace was overrun with scuttling crabs, each one more threatening and erratic than the last. Her hands met the nearest wall, frantically searching for a switch. Another heavy groan threatened to topple the shack and Lana felt a cold mist rush through the open windows. With a house that supported itself on raised poles, water that high wasn't a good sign.
High tide.
Tidal wave!
"Oh god, oh god!" Lana jumped from board to board, careful not to lose her footing as sliding shells made malicious grabs for her feet. Her first instinct was to make for the door, but with the waves already at her window, the front porch was a last resort. To make her way down those front stairs and into the churning, black ocean... 'It can't be that high yet! That's impossible!' Her common sense screamed, forcing her out of the room in search of the door. No time for shoes. By the grace of who-knows-what, Lana found a familiar shape in the darkness and pried the door open. The storm was fierce. Thrashing winds carried salt and spray through the front door but the water had yet to claim her walkway. There was still time to escape as the tides pulled in on themselves.
That's when it called out to her.
The bottle, little Sigmund in tow, had somehow made it's way to the window sill. If it weren't for that blue fluorescent glowing from deep within it's belly Lana wouldn't have given the piece of junk a second thought. It was a needless distraction. A silly toy. 'Run, feet, run! There's precious little time before the big waves come!' But they wouldn't carry her. There was a cold panic filling her throat. Why did the bottle wait 'til she passed to turn on it's beacon? Like a light house signalling imminent doom, Sigmund's terrarium pulsed in erratic and unfamiliar patterns.
"Damn it, this is insane!" Shaking the light's spell, Lana clutched for warmth and broke full sprint down the front steps. There was no time to think about material things. Her life was in danger. The ocean would swallow her whole if she didn't move quickly. House be damned, she was mere inches from safety! Still, the feeling of dread deep in her stomach refused to part. Not even as her feet met sinking sands and the comfort of high ground settled in. Something wasn't right. No clouds, no rain, no sirens in the town. The waves came for her home and her home only. Her fingers released the railing of her old wooden steps and Lana couldn't help but turn to look at her home. One last fleeting moment with her memories... and still the blue light flashed. Strange that it seemed to flash in anger and desperation now. It was so warm and inviting on her lonesome winter nights. In fact, it had become her only comfort in the world. And now...
It was calling for help.
Her stomach dropped at this fantastic realization. Freezing waves crashed, nearly taking Lana by the ankles. She kicked up sand past spraying waters and razor-sharp shells, all for the sake of a night light and a hermit crab. If she lived to tell the tale, Mikko would call her crazy. Oh god, he'd be the only person who cared that she was dead.
Focus, Lana.
The freak storm was no mere phenomenon and toys didn't grow legs and prop themselves precariously upon open window sills. Silly thoughts flooded the shack as the waves slithered back into the ocean. The house swayed on it's stilts, pushing her towards the window and threatening to throw Sigmund into the waters below. Lana's pace quickened. The closer she came to the window, the softer the rush of the waves just beyond the walls. The shells beneath her feet seemed gentler. Even the old wooden groans became soft sighs of relief. As Lana's fingers met Sigmund's cold glass, everything went still. The silence was terrifying. The eye of the storm. Lana held Sigmund's glass prison tight against her chest, waiting... and as if admitting defeat, the wind settled into a soft whisper. The assault had failed and the bottle shone bright and steady
She held the bottle tight and everything was alright.
Lana spent the night with her back propped against the couch, shivering in disbelief as towering piles of shells became mounds of sand and stray winds charmed every grain back to the shore. Broken lamps and scratched floors would forever bear evidence of the night her home was almost devoured by the ocean... and so would Sigmund.
"If the Ocean wants you so badly... you must be worth something." Timid fingers ran down the bottle's face, lulling the creature within into a flickering mist.
Lana's eyes went wide.
Sigmund's strange light shone on 'til morning, a hopeful signal in the dark.
Word Count: 1094
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