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 Posted: Tue Nov 06, 2012 3:15 pm
 
When he steps into the cottage, Kalden can’t help but notice how dusty everything was. Both hands grip the straps of his leather bag before he steps into his new abode. Home? enters his mind tentatively, hesitantly. He walks forward toward the table placed in the center of the room, the dining area judging by the sink and cupboards. A hand reaches out so he can brush a finger against the surface. Motes of dust flutter about while he brings his finger closer to examine the light layer of gray covering his skin.
This is not home. Far from it, really. No longer is he surrounded by the cities and towns of Faleen, constantly brimming with a quiet yet excitable energy that infects even the most apathetic of people. No longer is Kalden able to leave the comfort of his home in order to nestle into a comfortable corner of the many libraries that populate the country. There is no one to turn to when he wishes for a stimulating conversation or hopes for a second opinion on his invention or machinery in general. He had left it behind years ago. A pang for his true home resounds in his heart, but he pushes it down beneath the surface of his consciousness. There was no room for sentimentality when he needed to clean up the cottage.
He hopes the dust against his pants and lets his bag fall to the wooden floor with a dull plop, which scatters even more specks of dust, but Kalden remains unmindful of it. The young man treks deeper into the tiny house. He coughs, one fist over his mouth while the other hand waves away a cloud of billowing dust to revolve rags. Kalden takes a handful of the cloths to take to the sink where he soaks them with water. He squeezes out the liquid and he dutifully begins to wipe down the countertops first. Dust continually flies about the room, but now he’s begun to adapt to the temporary grime. He will bear with it for the time being while he starts on the cupboards and drawers. They glisten slightly in the sunlight that scatters through the few windows within the house.
Absentmindedly, Kalden brushes away dust floating in front of him while he washes down the table. He is not one to enjoy housework, but after being alone for a while he has grown accustomed to performing these kinds of tasks. It keeps him occupied for most of the day—wiping the dust off of everything, wringing out the few clothes and blankets still lying around the house, arranging the furniture in a way he sees fit. Kalden leaves the door and windows open to let the fresh air in. He has no worries of a stranger visiting his home, relatively secluded from the other houses, but not significantly far away from the nearest town. It is a comfortable balance between civilization and isolation, which is how he prefers it.
He collapses into an outstretched chair once the house is clean and prepared to his satisfaction. An arm draped over the back of the chair, Kalden glances toward the clock placed near the window. The warm light of the setting sun covers the arrows as the pendulum swings faithfully, but he can see it’s no use to go to the shop he is to begin work at. Fingers idly rap against the dinner table before he gets up from his seat to finally shut each of the windows with a secure click. He heads toward the door. Kalden leads to the side to scoop up his bag while his other hand reaches for the door handle, but as his slender fingers wrapped around the handle he paused.
Kalden has never liked nature. He doesn't hate it per say, but if he had to choose between staying inside or going outside, he would stay inside to tinker with gears and screws and cogs. Machinery makes sense to him, but sometimes he could not quite make sense of nature. It was not, however, wise to remain clueless of his new home. He swung the door open so he could gaze outside. The sun had yet to set completely, perhaps another hour before it finally dipped beneath the horizon line. Lips pressed into a thin line, Kalden donned his bag and carefully began to walk down the dirt path.
The walk was more boring than he would have liked. The warm colors that swirled across the sky captured his attention, but even that could only hold his gaze for so long. Kalden attempts to ingrain the scenery into his mind. Any particular landmarks he made careful note in his brain and any encountered signs were duly remembered. He encounters relatively little trouble while heading toward town. As soon as he spots the very tops of the houses, Kalden pauses, hesitates, then spins around to return home. He looks up; the glow of the sun has nearly disappeared. Now the sky is painted in deep violets and blues, peppered with twinkling white. Yet he feels little fear during his return trip. Perhaps it was young foolishness.
Even in the darkness, he could recall the specific landmarks he was supposed to encounter. Each mark serves to reassure Kalden he was on the right track. Everything was going as expected.
What he did not expect was a giant lump in the road.
“Woah!” he yells, arms stretching out as he fell to the ground. He clicks his tongue then hisses as he begins to slowly pick himself up. Pebbles cling to his clothes and press against his palms. Frowning, Kalden sat up to wipe his hands free of the tiny rocks. So caught up in the momentary pains of his fall, he did not realize the stirrings of life in the woods that lined both sides of the road.
It was the call of a crow that catches his attention. Or perhaps it was a raven? The man could not discern between the two with such dim light. He would never be able to tell them apart even in daylight, but what he could see was that the crow was staring at him. At least, in his direction, but Kalden swears the creature is peering right at him. He refuses to let it bother him, so he starts to stand up, but the sound of glass banging against rock echoes near him. He looks down, kneels so he can pick up what feels like a bottle. Indeed, as he holds the container to the moonlight he can see the smooth glass and thin neck. It is a pretty bottle, most likely of a dark color that would contrast against his fair skin and light hair. Its surface gleams brightly despite the darkness.
Another caw, multiple ones even.
When Kalden looks up he realizes there are even more birds perched upon a nearby tree. The single crow has become a murder of them. It should not bother him, but each bird points its beady eyes toward him and the bottle in his hands. A trembling chill runs down his spine, but he stands up once more. He still grips the bottle.
His breathing quickens while he continues on his journey home, the crows’ cawing echoing in his ears. It starts with one shriek, and then another and another before the flock takes flight and flies in all directions. He can see a few of them fly over his head and into the distance. Kalden has half a mind to drop the bottle and run, but instead he slips it into his bag and continues home.
What was the harm?
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Posted: Fri Nov 09, 2012 8:22 pm
Whi Forest, unlike Coote, was peaceful. Kalden had never been a man of nature, but he could appreciate the serenity that often accompanied it. He seated himself by one of the windows to bask in the cool, autumnal sunlight while he sat hunched over his papers. Idle hands reached up to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose while he skimmed the forms’ contents. The forms mainly described the financial transactions of the repair shop he had found employment at. It was a small shop, but busy also, considering how such shops were far and few in between. For now, it would be only him and the elderly man who owned the shop. The humble establishment suited Kalden fine. The less people he had to interact with, the less he had to make a fool of himself.
A thought struck him suddenly as he sifted through the monetary calculations. Why was he going through these papers? Surely the senior could go over these himself? But perhaps that was why he had hired Kalden in the first place—to accomplish the menial tasks so he could devote more time to tinkering with whatever broken machines people arrived with. Kalden did not mind. Menial tasks suited him too. He continued to scribble away with his pencil. The arithmetic was easy, but simply immersing himself in numbers satisfied him.
The weather outside was befitting of autumn. The sun shined, but its distant heat proved inefficient in warming the land as the leaves continued to be dyed in reds and browns, while certain creatures that stirred within the nearby forest prepared themselves for temporary slumber through the winter. He wished he could pull a similar feat. It would be nice if he could stay beneath his bed covers and sleep away the frosty chill. Kalden soaked in as much as the autumn sunshine as he could. He passed most of the day in calm silence; his pencil scratching against the paper while the gears of his mind turned easily. Sometimes the parchments would slide against each other as he shuffled from one page to the next.
Life had come to an inevitable stop for Kalden. It was no surprise, since he had moved from Coote to a cottage a distance from the nearest town. The remainder of his life would be spent in constant repetition consisting of repairing machinery, tinkering with his own, and reading whatever books he could collect in town. The world would become mundane, but he was content with the monotony. Repetition was stable; stable was comfortable.
And he continued that way until he could not see the words scrawled across the paper. Eyes squinting, Kalden finally looked up to realize the sun had nearly disappeared. His eyes widened slightly as he turned back to his papers. The pencil fell out of his hands when he slipped out of his chair to turn on the lamps positioned around the house. The dim glows were welcome, but only served to darken the outside. He frowned then drew the curtains.
Somewhere a crow squawked. He cringed.
“How unpleasant,” he murmured, leaning over the table to collect the papers into one pile and deposit into his leather bag.
Two more shrieks.
Kalden froze. Had one crow transformed into two crows? He pressed his lips together, but continued with his business. He shuffled through his bag’s contents to see everything was there for tomorrow.
One shriek. Two shriek. Three shrieks.
He stiffened. The birds had multiplied.
A frowning Kalden walked over to the curtains and drew them back open. Instead of a murder of crows nestled in the grass or nearby trees, he saw only the empty meadow lit in the moon’s blue glow. He narrowed his eyes, leaned closer to the window. Odd, hadn’t he heard…?
The squawk came from behind, too close for comfort.
He really couldn’t stop himself from screaming. Kalden stumbled around the kitchen until he managed to lean against one of the counters. He could feel the heat burning his cheeks, but at least he was the only person living in the area. Groaning softly, he ran both hands down his face. Embarrassing.
And as he viewed the house through parted fingers, Kalden noticed the bottle lying on the floor. “Hm?”
Hands fell to his side. He bent down, swooped his arm so he could pick up the bottle’s neck. The dark glass gleamed in the lamplight while feathers fluttered around the bottle and his hand. His face contorted into a look of confusion. Kalden couldn’t recall bringing in an animal. He caught one of the twirling feathers, held it between two fingers. It was a dark feather. A crow flashed in his mind. He spun the feather around in his hand and took in the pale glow.
Wait. The feathers glowed.
The shock caused him to drop both the container and feather. The glass bottle did not shatter into shards, but clanged against the ground. It rolled in a circle twice before slowing to a halt, still covered in sparse feathers that glowed an eerie blue in the darkness. Kalden took a deep breath before he picked the bottle back up and set it on the kitchen counter. He resisted the urge to run his hand through his hair while he turned off the lamps before he retreated into his bedroom.
Maybe if he slept, the strange bottle would cease to emit illuminating feathers. Perhaps everything was a figment of his imagination, despite the fact he had never been one to fancy such whimsical fantasies. Maybe he was too exhausted.
Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.
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Posted: Sun Nov 11, 2012 1:11 pm
Caw.
(Dust Spin --> Child Quest*) Perhaps dropping the bottle and trying to sleep off the glowing feather phenomenon wasn't the best idea. When next Kalden awakens, he might notice that the house is quiet -- eerily quiet. It wouldn't take long after he gets out of bed to feel the eyes on him, the many, many eyes, perched on all manner of furniture and sills. Kalden's house is literally filled with crows, dozens of them, all staring at him in an accusing manner. They aren't just any crow, however, as he might notice they each have the unnatural blue glow that his bottle had - the likes of which is no where to be found. He may not realize it, but Kalden is staring at each feather his bottle has shed in manifest; they aren't just crows, they're all a part of his feathered bottle with intelligence and awareness, and they're all...waiting on him. Waiting for what? Does he find the bottle within one of the crows? How does he deal with the magic beings cloying the air of his abode? How does he disperse the crows and appease his bottle so it wont happen again? *Please note, there's a minimum word requirement of 500 words for this quest.
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Posted: Mon Nov 12, 2012 1:45 pm
The stillness brewing in the house next morning was not unusual for Kalden. With a cottage nestled in a secluded meadow, it was not surprising to the young man that he awoke to silence, though he admitted it was peculiar that he could not hear the twittering of birds. Weren’t they usually awake around this time? Drowsy-eyed, Kalden yawned and swung his legs over the bed’s edge. His bare feet touched the cold floor; he shivered slightly, but he sat up anyways. Yawning a second time, he reached up to comb one side of his tousled hair with a hand while he headed for the kitchen.
He couldn’t take more than two steps before he realized something was very wrong. The house was darker than usual. Kalden blinked, whirled around so he could grope for his glasses. As he put them on, everything became clear to him.
His house was infested with crows. He pressed his lips into a tight line. An infestation of crows, yes, this was absolutely normal. Kalden didn’t appear perturbed by the unusual circumstance until he noticed that all of the birds were staring directly at him. Upon realizing this, he flinched and took a step back to try to distance his self from the creatures, but they were everywhere. The attention was unnerving. If there was one thing Kalden hate most, it was all eyes on him. His knees turned inwards and he began to shrink into himself. “Um…?” The corvids moved little; a head twitch here, a flap of the wings there, an undulating glow—
Glow…? Kalden forced himself to crane his neck forward to examine the crows again. They were dark in color, but also surrounded by a blue glow. Just like the bottle had done last night. He squinted his eyes. Was it too soon to conclude that the bottle had a hand in this?
“E-Excuse me…” he mumbled as he headed for the door. The birds sprawled across the door squawked loudly as they hoped away from the man. Kalden hastily opened the door and exited his bedroom, only to enter another sea of crows. A low whine emerged out of his mouth. He summoned as much courage as he could so he could attempt to wave off the birds, but they only moved away from him. Yet they continued to stare at Kalden with the same accusing stare.
“What did I do?” He shrunk back again, but the gears in his mind whirred and hummed. It didn’t take long for everything to click together. The bottle. It had to be the bottle. The bottle was the anomaly in this equation. He had to find the bottle, but where was it? He couldn’t see its dark blue glass amidst the black, glowing feathers housed in the cottage. Kalden need a moment to calm himself, to gather together theories.
He waved away the birds lounging on the table and pulled out a char to sit in. The man folded his hands together, elbows propped on the table. It was difficult to ignore the constant staring, magical animals or not. They continued to watch him, as if waiting for something. Chills ran down his spine. “Is there something you want?” Kalden couldn’t fathom why he questioned the crows, but logic was beginning to fail him this morning.
One of them squawked.
Kalden frowned. “You’re incredibly helpful.” The room plunged back into awkward silence as he formulated another inquiry, which would hopefully yield a more useful answer. “The bottle. Where is the bottle?” The minor movement and shrieks within the large murder ceased suddenly, causing Kalden to nervously lean back in his chair. “Where is it?” he called out more meekly.
Something stirred outside, something like ringing glass.
He looked behind him then stood up suddenly. “You!” A finger was pointed toward the kitchen window, right at the bare tree with a certain bottle innocently perched on top of a branch. His gestures grew more irritated and frantic as he parted the sea of crows near the front door. The grass rustled as he made his way back and began to climb the tree.
“You! You’re responsible for all of those birds in the house, are you not?” The logical side of Kalden wondered why he was speaking to an inanimate object. Just as his fingers grazed the bottle’s surface, it rolled over to the side and softly plopped to the dirt. He could have sworn the bottle was somehow laughing at him. He huffed then jumped down. Kalden scooped up the bottle and pointed his finger at it again. “Look, whatever you did to get the crows here, I want you to…I don’t know, I just want those crows gone!”
The crows inside squawked indignantly. He gave the flock as threatening a glare he could muster, which wasn’t much. “Hush, you!”
Once the anger cooled, blew away with the autumn wind, Kalden sighed. “Is this because I dropped you last night?” You’re going crazy, Kalden. Talking to a bottle like it’s alive. “I promise I won’t do it again, so long as you get rid of the birds somehow.”
Silence.
“I mean it. I’ll drop you again otherwise. I’ll break you.” This was possibly the most threatening Kalden had been his entire existence.
The bottle seemed to stir slightly, amused. Kalden’s shoulders slumped as he walked back into the house. There was no use in continuing a one-sided conversation with it. He swiped at the crows loitering the entranceway, and he shrieked when they dispersed into thin air, like an illusion coming undone. Kalden nearly dropped the bottle, but clung onto it. His eyes grew wide, but then something inside him took over as he frantically swung at the rest of the flock. They too, disappeared into a flurry of dark smoke. The next few minutes were spent waving away the rest of the crows still within the cottage.
As he shooed away the last of them, he placed the bottle on the dinner table and seated himself once more. “I think I may be going crazy,” he mused as he rushed back to his room to change his clothes so he could head to work.
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Posted: Thu Nov 22, 2012 2:06 pm
Kalden still did not know what to expect from his bottle. He at least knew it had been a gift from Aevah, but why the goddess bestowed him such an item was beyond him. On top of that, it was a rather mischievous bottle. He could not fathom how an inanimate object could have personality, but this one did. It had been the one to summon the crow illusions to his house that one certain morning; he was sure of it. The event made the young man wary of the bottle. Kalden tried not to disturb the bottle much afterwards. Maybe if he ignored it, the glass bottle would settle down and Kalden could continue with his life of acclimating to this new land. It was difficult enough settling in, but with magical happenings caused by a bottle? That was just too much.
As he returned home from work, he let his bag drop to the floor with a dull thud while he slid into one of the empty chairs. Kalden reflexively looked at the bottle perched on the counter. The dark glass gleamed in the dim light. It gave him a sinking feeling in his stomach, so he chose to return to his room. Perhaps the timing was early and he would be resting without dinner, but tomorrow would be a rest day. He did not have to worry about arriving to work the next day. He could skip a meal just this once. Sighing, Kalden fell into bed and threw the covers over himself.
The next day, he woke up to chuckling. Kalden gradually pulled himself out of the dream world. He groaned and at first buried himself deeper beneath the covers, but the chuckling continued. It was only then that he realized he should be the only occupant in the house. He surely wasn’t the one chuckling, so who was? His eyes flew open and the covers flew off, floating to the floor. Kalden at first shuddered at the cold and shuffled toward his closet for a jacket to shrug on. He turned toward the door. He paused slightly when he noticed it slightly ajar. Kalden could have sworn he had shut it last night, so why…?
He frowned. Perhaps it was the bottle’s doing. He didn’t know how it did it, but it had been quiet. Perhaps it wanted to poke fun at him once more. Kalden stepped outside. At first glance, everything appeared normal. It was empty as always, but on the counter there was a suspicious lack of weird bottle.
Because the weird bottle had turned into a boy.
Kalden shrieked at the strange child flopped on the dinner table. “H-Hey! You, get off…!”
The child turned to face him, bright blue eyes gleaming against black sclera as he grinned. “Hmmm?” he answered lazily. The dark feathers of his tiny wings fluttered slightly as he finally sat up in a sitting position, but stubbornly kept to the top of the table.
The young man pointed a shaky finger at the peculiar child. “Who…are…?”
With one eye closed, the child crossed his arms and gave his new guardian a grin. “I’m afraid I can’t give you a name, but I was once that beautiful bottle of yours.”
Kalden shrieked. “What?”
The boy chuckled. “Is that a little too much for your tiny human head to wrap around right now? I can give you a second.” One second. “Alright, what about now?”
“I-I…” he stammered.
The dust continued to grin as he leaned forward and crossed his legs. He propped one elbow on one knee and rested his cheek against his palm. “Well, how about you give me a name first?”
“M-Me?”
“Since I’ll be in your care from now on.” His grin stretched wider and his eyes twinkled mischievously. Kalden wanted to groan. “Please look after me, father.”
Kalden nearly fainted. N-No…Father?! That was absolutely not what he was looking for! “No, couldn’t you possibly…? Because I’m just not fit…” His voice trailed off as Morrigan kept grinning at him. It almost seemed the grin was his way of saying there was no turning back now.
“How about a name, hmm?”
“Um…” Kalden pulled his jacket closer around himself. “Morrigan?”
The child gave him a contemplative look before he shrugged and hopped off the table. “Morrigan it is, then.” The crow dust smiled as he wandered around the house, walking as if it was his domain.
Kalden stumbled into one of the chairs. “What just…”
This was going to take a while to sink in fully.
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Posted: Thu Nov 22, 2012 2:10 pm
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