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Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice
- Robert Frost
Dear Reader;
I'm revisiting pieces of the series of dreams I had... the ones about Khyre and Linder...
I think they're too extraordinary to go to waste, despite the fact that they may be totally inaccurate. Whatever the fact, I thought I should record them here. I'll probably be posting throughout the day today; what with today being my school day.
Pronounciation:
Khyre: Kai (as in Kite)-yer (like Fire with a K)
Linder: Lin-der
Serra: Sarah
Prologue-
Heavy
It's all black.
I can hear a faint beeping sound; electronic. What is that sound?
I know that sound. I shouldn't kid myself.
I hear someone crying. I feel a little bit of movement around me, but none is coming from me. I haven't been able to move for a while. I know that.
The minutes turn to hours. I feel like the same scene is resetting itself. I hear the beeping and the sobbing. I feel things, but can't respond.
Finally, everything has gone quiet. I hear voices; clear now.
"What should we do then?"
"You heard them."
"But how can we fullfill their wishes both ways? It's nigh impossible!"
"Well, I did say I'd bring him to our side, that's what she wants."
"I doubt that he'll enjoy living on the surface of the sun with you and your tyranny."
I hear a really deep growl.
"Oh! And I guess he'll so love living like a penguin freezing his a** off while contemplating the meaning of icicles hanging on the cieling!"
I hear a deep sigh, and then a barrage of arguments insue. Finally, I hear another voice; this one is familiar... I know it, but my mind is fuzzy.
"Split it."
"You must be joking!"
"You heard me. Split it in two. Ice men; take the side that would suit you. Fire denizens; take the side that would suit your tastes. May I suggest this? Ice men; cultivate him early. If he's older when my mistress crosses, then it's for the best. To you of flames; hold off a few years after your respective joins you. If she is older this time, she will probably appreciate it. Problem solved."
Suddenly... I feel a sharp piercing pain... jagged and ripping at my flesh, tearing me apart. I hear a laugh... and then...
I was gone.
Chapter 1-
Harvest
Khyre was born at sunset. People often said that it was his first offense against everyone. He wailed all night, and slept all day. If it hadn't been for a few threats towards his family to change his sleeping habits by force, he probably would not have grown to be the boy he was now; flame-licked hair that hugged his face with long bangs, and bright green eyes; the final flash before the sun disappeared below the horizon. Khyre's namesake was a tribute to his element; fire, given to him by Ember; a powerful individual amongst their people as of late. Her welcome to their society could best be described as a bombshell. Instantly accepted by their leader and placed in a position of high esteem. Though she was still quite young, her eyes, possessing a flame all their own, held vast pools of knowledge from lives she had experienced and unlocked in her death and rebirth.
It was this very knowledge that made her present when Khyre first breathed air. She had knelt next to him and whispered something, which the parents had translated as "Khyre", a play on the word 'Fire'.
Ember became a mentor of sorts for Khyre, although her temper often got him in more trouble than he was worth. Often she would call him a lost cause and dismiss him, but eventually he was able to bother her enough to get her to accept him again. Despite his major faults, he did very well.
He had trouble with flight though. While other fledglings could manage perfectly, Khyre failed. Try as his parents or Ember might, he could not complete more than 4 feet of air (nor did any of his peers have the patience to maintain the trials). He had very lovely wings; his mother and father had treasured their feathers greatly, and he had inherited theim with their pride, but the fact that he couldn't use them, meant that they were meant for merely show. He could retract them into his back, but he was often scolded when his mother discovered him doing so.
One day, as he was drawing something on a massive red wall, two boys ran up to him.
"Hey limp-wings!" One called, crowing with laughter at his own wit, "Whatcha drawing?"
"Clouds!" the other laughed, " So he can pretend to fly!"
"Tobias and his shadow... You two are going to be in serious trouble if you keep mocking me like this every day." Khyre said, turning around and pointing the chalk stick at them like a weapon, "I can be faster with my wings than you ever could."
"HOW!?" One said, laughing, "You can't even fly yet!"
"I can run." He smirked and put his hands on his hips, "faster than you can ever fly."
"Is that so?" One of them pushed forward to stand him up, "You're a pathetic weakling compared to us!"
"If you say so..." Khyre smiled, "I bet you can't beat me. Loser might as well get all of his feathers plucked off."
"What did you say?" the boy posed a fist over Khyre's face, before a familiar voice came from behind them.
"You heard him," standing behind the boys was their lord, his arms crossed with a bemused smile, "he challenged you to a race. Loser looses his feathers. Have at it."
"My lord--- I was merely--"
"You bet him. Follow through, or automatically lose." his smile widened a little more.
Khyre gulped and looked up at Tobias, who smiled wickedly now, "You're on then."
Khyre braced himself at the chalk line that Tobias' friend drew. Tobias flexed his wings, prepping for his take off.
On the word 'Go', Khyre blazed from the line. Every stride he threw his fire into. His body screamed as he shot like a bullet from a gun. His wings caught flame, which helped propell him forward like a rocket. He felt like the wind was catching under them, and his eyes widened that he may finally be able to fly. He chanced a glance behind him. Tobias was staring wide eyed from his flight at his back.
He could chance it. Anything to fly. ANYTHING!
He spread his wings.
.... Immediately the wind roared over them... the wrong side. Instead of lift, it drove him directly into the dirt. His face found nothing but gravel, and it dragged his flesh along the stone, blood inevitable.
What hurt most was looking up and seeing Tobias impossibly far ahead. He landed ontop of a rock spire, and gloated loudly, "I WIN!"
Khyre lay his head against the ground, his eyelashes brushing the dirt as he fought back the tears that were threatening to escape. He just wanted to lay there, but he heard the sound of footsteps coming closer and closer.
A firm hand latched onto the base of his wings, lifting him up painfully. He looked up to see the lord with a new smile on his lips.
"Looks like you lost, kid." he then threw him over his shoulder. Khyre retraced his wings into his back, staring at Tobias and his friend pointing and gloating that they had beaten him.
Floor greeted him again. Cold stone floor this time. He twisted onto his back to look up at the lord again.
"Please, you can't be serious about that bet... it was a fool's bet, really." Khyre pleaded.
"Lay on your stomach."
"You--"
Before anything further could be protested, he was grabbed and thrown onto the floor again, onto his stomach, a knee now frimly pressed into his back, keeping him down.
A few taps on his back signalled that it would be very wise to reveal his wings at that moment. Khyre held back a sob, shook his head, and his wings unfolded from his shoulders.
"Well, these are lovely." he could feel a few strokes along his wings, like light caresses, "shouldn't have pawned them off, boy."
A sharp pain echoed through his body. He looked up from his wince, and saw one golden feather spinning in front of him. His eyes widened.
"It's really a shame.*pluck* *wince*. You're gonna look awfully funny without any feathers back there... What have we learned from this experience?"
Through winces and small gasps, Khyre was able to choke out, "Don't make bets."
"Screw that s**t, kid." he ripped out a bunch at one time, bringing a cry forth from Khyre, "it's don't loose. If you hadn't opened your wings, you would have won. So perhaps it's don't do stupid s**t that makes you loose."
Khyre was openly crying now, as feathers of scarlet, orange, and gold fell around his face.
"Alouette, gentille Alouette
Alouette, je te plumerai
Je te plumerai la tête
(Je te plumerai la tête)
Et la tête
(Et la tête)
Alouette
(Alouette)
O-o-o-oh
Alouette, gentille Alouette
Alouette, je te plumerai
Je te plumerai le bec
(Je te plumerai le bec)
Et le bec
(Et le bec)
Et la tête
(Et la tête)
Alouette
(Alouette)
O-o-o-oh... are you having fun yet, kid?"
Khyre shook his head feverishly.
"I heard that song once... human chefs used to sing that when plucking birds." he laughed and ripped out another cluster of feathers, scattering them on Khyre's head.
"Just...stop... there can't possibly be any more....." Khyre wriggled.
"You're right. There are only---" he ripped out another cluster, and shouted in triumph, " These left."
He scattered them like leaves in front of his nose.
"Now, I think that was a fitting punishment... but I think you didn't learn your lesson completely, so..." he reached over and grabbed something which made a clinking sound, "We're going to have you walk around with your shame for everyone to see."
Another sharp pain, and the lord leaned down next to his ear, "I've just connected two blades to your wings. Retract them, and they will draw long scars down your back. I'll remove them when you've learned your lesson."
He left.
Khyre sat up, a wreath of his own feathers surrounding him. He picked them up in vain, clutching a bundle of them to his chest.
He looked up to see a mirror on the wall, and to his horror, saw that his wings were bare. What stared back was an abomination. He recoiled and clutched the feathers desperately.
"I... look...like...a... FREAK!!!" He threw the feathers at the mirror and ran from the room.
"I HATE YOU!" he shouted over and over, tearing down the corridors and outside.
 Rozencard · Tue Dec 04, 2007 @ 01:17pm · 1 Comments |
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