More of a character idea then a story idea, but King man bro of large appetites keeps a menagerie of fantastic creatures, an uncomfortable number of which have the appearance of beautiful women. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ It's funny how these things work out. Anyways, among these creatures is the king's greatest prize; a nest of sirens, ostensibly tamed. The most mild mannered of these sings for his guests, if he sees fit to bless them so. Uuuh, running out of steam. King likes sirens, sirens don't like king, but hey free food, nice warm water, lovely place. Just gotta amuse the King, and that's easy enough when your whole deal is illusions, right? But one of them does like the king, likes him a whole lot, actually. Enough to sneak into his bed in the guise of his young wife, over and over, till she gets pregnant. Pregnancy is a big deal with humans, and royals especially, and what with the king having a glut of daughters and no male heirs, well. Even an illegitimate male could be a gift. And that kid's an illusionist by nature, yeah? It doesn't matter what he looks like or what he's wearing, people react to him as he wants them to. He is fearsome for as long as he wants to be fearsome, etc, etc. And he's not pleased with it. Moral kid, upstanding, straightforward, but can't help his desires. "I want to be intimidating", thinks this unassuming little slip of a boy. And people run away in terror. He can't help it. Hates and resents it, loves it in equal parts, hates that he loves it. Seeks to redeem himself by being an obscenely moral man, fighting the good fight, accomplishing good. Doesn't know how to do that, yeah? And then he has a life and moral struggles and whatever, I dunno.
Temeraire trashy romance novel but with a dragon/captain relationship. Flecha-del-fuego. Crashed heavily into the ocean, during a scrape with British forces that killed his Captain and most of his crew. What remained died in the crash. Dragon stayed afloat on acounta airsacks whatever, and difted half dead to shore. Was found by the young wife of a noble, prolly a navy man or an aviator. Maybe a daughter? I dunno. Either way, not a nice man. Treats her poorly. Still, she's smart and resourceful and imagines an escape in a foreign dragon. from loneliness if nothing else. Sneaks away, day after day to tend to him. Dragon's like fuck my Captain's dead, i have nothing to live for, woe, woe! I will never love again!! And Girlie's like okay, but how about I treat you all nice and read you stories and have stimulating conversations with you? And Dragon's like, oh shit. Curse my fickle dragon heart!! And Husbando is still a bastard, but he was a bastard who wasn't there for most of Dragon's healing and his and Girlie's bonding. so, he shows up, and Dragon does not like. And then he kidnaps her and takes her to a Convrt and is like give my Captain food and money and safe be safe no hitting or i will kill everyone and then myself. And Girlie's like fuck, boy, we had a script, goddamn. but like all meaty in the middle with good bonding and secret flying and whqtnot. Important notes: Dragon is a drama queen.
I am seriously so interested in this you have no idea. Where did you get when playing with it before? Do you mind if I take a glance at what you have and see what I can do?
Well, I mostly got as far as bullet points and a few starting paragraphs, but you're welcome to them if you like? In my head, the plot went kinda like this: Spoiler: Cut for length Nameless healer girl (let's call her NHG) is dutiful, and she's good at what she does, but she's exhausted. The population of her little village is aging and she's the only one with any medical or hospice training. Out in hills, there's an old hanging tree where she goes in the evenings to have some quiet time. She gets there, one late-summer evening, with her little picnic dinner, and there's a great big wolf curled up at it's base. And, because her mother always loved wolves, she takes the patently unsafe route of taking to it and throwing it some of her smoked ham. The wolf gets up, takes the ham, thanks her with the voice of a human woman, and leaves. NHG comes back the next evening with extra ham and gets there before the wolf, sitting at the base of the tree. She offers the wolf food again, and though the wolf keeps her distance, they have a talk. NHG is thrilled to have a secret piece of the world all to herself. Things go on this way, and each evening the wolf sits a little closer and discloses a little more about herself. Meanwhile, while NHG's out doing her rounds, people become more and more secretive about asking for her help or being seen with her. People start to avoid her in the streets. NHG finds out at some point that the wolf is actually a witch in a magic wolf-skin (like a selkie-skin that's handed down from witch to apprentice). The witch hasn't lived as a human being in months: she's on the run from an avid witch-hunter. She thinks the hunter won't be able to pursue her through the mountains. Spoilers: she's wrong. Things get worse in the village for NHG when a young boy sent to bring her to his ailing grandfather catches her speaking to a wolf. Not long after, the witch kills a pig and bites a man when he tries to stop her escaping. NHG gets blamed for it. Then there's probably some stuff about locking her up (at first, she's told it's for her own protection, of course, nobody really believes those rumours). But then a big bad wolf tries to break her out and kills the blacksmith's son, who was watching her (because the witch is really bad at caring about people, whoops) and things go really sour really fast. The witch hunter shows up in the final act and ramps up the danger to 11. Turns out he's got a really good reason to hate the witch, to, not sure what yet. And the hanging tree features pretty prominently in the end, there, because I am a terrible person who does terrible things to fictional characters. Or maybe they escape together? Or maybe the witch dies and NHG takes her pelt and escapes with it. .... it's the details that have been kicking me around :/ If you do wind up doing something with this, I'd love to hear about it! (even if it winds up completely different, which stories so often do~) I absolutely love reading other people's stuff.
Spoiler: Chapter 1 Twigs. Twigs everywhere. Leaves dancing through the air, sunlight falling through the branches along with motes of pollen from the high flowers stirred up by kicking feet. The strains of panflute dance along with the mass of peasantry in the grassy clearing. This is. This is my land. These are my people. These are my plants and my air and my flowers and everything belongs to me. Everything is from me and because of me and for me. The dance continues every year. The music shifts with the times, deeper notes resound with the changing steps. The people come and go, grow larger and smaller and return back to my womb to be reborn. I rejoice in their fleeting lives, so full of wonder, full of mystery to one such as I, the long storied and unstoried record of theirs lives a breath upon my memory but such a breath. Their souls speak of joy, simplicity, emotions in their basest form. Happiness, sorrow, anger, rage, jealousy, love. The cycle continues and I sleep with the dreams of ensouled memories dancing through my mind. Why would anything ever change. And then I wake. Something is different. Their souls are quieter, softer. Lessened, somehow. I can reach out but it takes an effort to see their stories. A usurper from the south! I think to the past, to earlier situations with this precocious attempts and relax again. These fads never last, as fickle and brief as the lives of my people, still dancing. But even less now, less again and every year continually. Once there were thousands, now there are dozens. They still dance but I can see into their hearts. I can see their interest in eachother greater than their interest to return to me. Those emotions stir within me now, a thousand thousand rememberances of retribution, of hatred. Of anger. Of love. There are still some few who remember me though, who remember my wrath and my grace. It is no longer a time to relax, it is a time to act. And act I do. I find one of those tiny minds and, remember motions from years and years and eons ago, reach out to grace its presence. Mine again. It is time to remind them they are mine. ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………… Her mothers voice was muffled through the walls of their sturdy cottage. Alainne wiped the sweat off of her brow and moved her weary legs to the small window in the east wall. “What, mother?” “Remember to grab the knife from the smokehouse! The butcher charged me last time for asking to borrow his, plus Jahn said he heard wolves last week!” A brief sigh, “I already have it mother. We should leave soon, it is approaching mid-morning and we wanted to be back before dusk!” More muffled noises and then Alainnes mother emerged from the house. Thin arms, rough grey hair built on a wire frame, she still bespoke a calm confidence, a surety that gave lie to what otherwise might have been seen as fragile. Next to her, Alainne looked like a pony about to chomp on a stalk of timothy grass. Short, muscular, with long brown hair, the faintest shadow of lanky ancestors overlaid with 17 years of hard with in the fields and woods of her mothers house, she shouldered her heavy pack with all of the herbal mixes and embroidery work they had put together over the last several weeks. Matching pairs of tanned leather moccasins hit the ground in steady measured rhythm as the two of them moved towards the closest village. As their shapes left the clearing, the sounds of birds and bees wavered and then began again. The sunlight still shone through the trees, and a steady breeze continued to build through the trees, bringing with it overturned leaves, a tuft of wolf’s hair, and oh yes. Twigs. Here you go, @corvidology, @Mostly Harmless Changed the storyline up a bit.
ahhhhhhhhh! Oh man, I'm so exited for this it's ridiculous :D love love love your imagery... and I'm dying to see where that intro is leading!
@corvidology @Mostly Harmless @kmoss Spoiler: Chapter 2 Chapter 2 They made good time. The well-worn path had no deviations, did not stray at all in a beeline to the town. The walk itself took no more than an hour or two, their earlier haste forgotten in the familiar steps, in the clear air, the smell of crushed grass and sunlight filtering through the trees. You could see the calm seeping from the ground along with the last of the mist burning off in the blaze of cleansing light. Martrei, Alainnes mother, took a deep breath but did not speak. They both could appreciate the quiet of the early morning. In short order they crested over the low range separating them from the town, separating the forest from the new industry. There was a new mill under construction on the main river, walls were beginning to go up around the town. Martrei sighed again, but this time it had nothing to do with her good mood. Alainne smiled a bit. “Mother, you knew they were going to build it. Theres nothing to do, plus the workers pay good money for your dyes.” Another sniff, but she had a point. The duo kept walking, past the growing crowds of people before reaching, finally, the village square, on one side dominated by the ever growing foundation of the new church, on the other side hemmed in by the market area. They set up shop quickly, in the shade of Jahns butcher shop. Within minutes they were surrounded by a large group of the local folk, young and old. It was Martrei who produced the best herb packets in the area and Alainne was slowly becoming more and more proficient herself. Dyes for the newly sewn shirts and trousers, packets of tea for chronic headaches and sore muscles, kindly chattering company and their willingness to trade for favours or for barter made them a popular pair and within several hours their entire inventory had been traded away, and their pack was stuffed almost as full as it had been that morning. Martrei smiled down at her daughter. “Excellent work, mon Cherie, now I must run off to speak with Frere Jacqois about some trouble he had been having. I will come find you here at the dinner bell, yes?” Alainne nodded her head and the two headed in their separate directions, leaving the pack with a kindly Jahn, who had gotten a nice mix for blending with his sausages in exchange for helping the two ladies. Alainne headed down the main street, following the crowd of people on their way to meet the workers at the church. You could barely but make out her long hair in the mass as folk began to make their way into the center of town for the socializing hour prior to dinner, but for those taller than most… “Alainne!” His voice cut through the crowd and reached her ears with a familiar ring. She flushed slightly and allowed herself to be worked out of the crowd to see her good friend. “Chausson! How are you doing today?” The tall boy smiled down at his friend. It wasn’t often that Alainne was in town with time to speak, pure chance that he had happened to be walking down the main street that day. “I am quite well, actually! You see before you the new servant to the master himself!” She gasped in amazement. “He took you on as apprentice? That’s magnificent Chausson! Im so excited for you.” Chausson nodded. A lanky fellow, you could begin to make out a patchwork of faint scars on his lower arms and hands, and the beginning trends of muscle beginning to work their way through his youthful wiry arms. “You should have seen papa, he was so proud he bragged about it to everyone he talked with all day long. Say…” He ran a hand through his drifting bangs, hesistating for just a moment. “…How long are you in town? Momma and papa both said if you had the time you could join us for dinner. You and Martrei both, of course.” Alainne bit her lower lip briefly. “I don’t know. I know she wanted to be back home, there are still going to be chores to be done before bed tonite and it’s a long walk, and getting longer it seems like every year.” A brief incline of his head was all that was needed for the both of them to fall silent again. Things had been so simple when Chausson had lived out by them. They ran in the woods together, and they would have large family dinners and spend long winter evenings together all in one room while one of the adults would tell a story, or they would play games in front of the fireplace. Chausson’s father getting his new work as an overseer at the local mill, one of the first in the town, had changed all of that. It wasn’t until they moved away that Alainne had really begun to realise how much she appreciated having a friend near and, without one, how much she felt alone. It explained her bond to her mother, but somehow it also explained how right it felt making the walk to the town every month. As they stood near the doorway to one of the local shops, silently speaking to eachother, a bustle of commotion began to wave through the town. Neither of them paid it much mind. It was the change of shift, probably just another drunk. It did serve its purpose though, which was to remind Alainne of her promise to meet her mother. “Chausson…I have to go. We still need to walk back tonite and it is getting late already.” He nodded and held out his arm. “Allow me to escort you back to your mother, my lady.” With a lighthearted smack and a laugh, she nodded, linked her arm with his and stepped out quickly, not wanting her mother to think she was lost in the town.. She didn’t need to worry. Her mothers burned, decapitated body was past caring about her daughter. I watched another of my children pass and felt the anger rise within me. The anger that had created fire, thunderstorms and floods. I received the saddened spirit to my breast but this one I did not let pass through me to rebirth. This one I held close. This one I pulled next to me, and whispered gently into her ear. Martrei, I said. Martrei I spoke to, and I told her of my plans for vengeance and I unleashed her wave of horror upon the town, and then I took a step and became…diminished. For the first time in my memory, my feet felt something beneath them. A finger of one of my children, one of my ancient children. It made a soft crackling noise as it snapped underneath my pale sole and I lifted it up, saddened at this first loss of life caused by myself. It was broken. The twig. If I dont bring a pillow with me to sit in my hammock and write, my neck gets tired when i hold it up to see what im typing, so most of the second half of this chapter was written with my eyes closed or staring at the ceiling. The struggle is real.
i made an audible gasping noise, poor Alainne D,: (an aside: the french countryside-type setting is absolutely charming)
Omg i remembered this story idea based on a dream I had. So a man gets terribly injured somehow. He's lying on the ground in a field, bleeding out, right next to a sapling. The sapling takes pity on him and grows around him, and he stays in the tree for... hell, decades probably. It spits him out one day, and he can't really remember much from his past beyond vague impressions. Oh, and he's part tree now, like, branches for hair and tough bark-skin and he's really tall and takes root rather than eating. He wanders around for a while before deciding to check out the forest at the edge of the field. In the forest, there's a girl cursed to look like a half-bear. More-or-less human face, but massive grizzly body. She's very bitter and angry and distrustful, but tree-man meets her and immediately decides that he likes her, and proceeds to spend weeks or longer convincing her that he's not like the people from her village that cursed her and threw her out. They become best friends, and whereas she was seen as the "monster" in the woods, he became sort of a guardian spirit who cured blight on plants and repaired any destruction in the forest. They make a great team. that's all i've got so far
