Thread Closed
Alder Springs, North Shroud:
Another step and his lungs would shatter, but to stop in his tracks would see his spine do the same. All the same, the latter impulse won out over the former, and Carter collapsed, falling to his knees and propping himself up and out of the dirt with one hand. Even in exhaustion, he clutched the package in his other arm, wrapped hastily in a canvas cloth, to his chest, unwilling and unable to let go. The ground beneath him trembled, pebbles and dirt rattling around his body as the golems approached, implacable, untiring.
Lifting his head to take in his surroundings, he cursed his luck. It was wrong, all of it. He remembered the site from his boyhood, and it had been there among the trees, but everything else was not. It was all rock and root and ruin, and at points on his approach he could look down and see there was no end to the earth beneath him, just an empty drop.
This was not a problem in and of itself. It was an existential crisis that could be partitioned and managed at a later date. As his father had always said, it was better to move forward in the dark than to wait until dawn.
Of course, his father had tripped and fallen down the stairs in the night on the way to the privy when Carter was but fifteen cycles, so what was his advice worth anyhow?
No, the trouble wasn’t that everything he knew was wrong. The problem was that he knew nothing about what was right. The theft was simple, the sneaking and the light step and the lifting of the stone an easy thing, and nary a spirit to strike him down. The trouble was the exit. Couldn’t just walk past wards, could he? Had to go round the back. Only there was no back, and in his haste, he had not scouted. A slow slide down into the earth beneath, and he had found himself surrounded by stone monstrosities, eyes aglow and faces (why faces? Why would something that was an amalgam of animated earth need a face? No, Cart, no. Not the time nor the question, focus) lacking any expression but nevertheless malevolent as they advanced to crush him.
So he’d run, and run, and now he was here, dirt beneath him, stone behind, and air ahead. For he lifted his eyes once he caught his breath, and saw a gap of some ten yalms between he and safety. There wasn’t much of a distance between he and peril, of course, but he wasn’t looking for that kind of thing.
It would be simple to - but no, he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He could jump. He was fast. Nicolae had said his step was light and his legs were quick. He could jump. Couldn’t he? Well, no matter. The rumble of stone-shaped feet behind him said that he ought one way or another.
Rising to his feet, he took a deep breath, and tensed his legs for enough time to put force into his initial sprint. He was fast, faster than usual, to be sure, hoping that he could force his body to do what he wanted before its physical state caught up to him and started asking very serious questions about his intentions. His lungs seemed ready to tear out of his chest and his legs for all their swiftness felt like shackles weighing him down, as if to free himself of them would bring him to the edge that much closer, closer, and there
He leapt. In better circumstances, the moment might have been exhilarating, that feeling of nothing beneath the feet at great speeds and greater heights. He remembered leaping from the Jadeite Flood as a child, remembered the thrill, remembered landing wrong and breaking a leg and months of pain when they couldn’t afford the conjuror.
And here, too, the opposite edge seemed far, too far, farther than he’d thought, and higher too, and only as he fell did Carter realize “Oh.â€
He did not look down at the sky beneath him, or wonder how far he was from ground. If this was it, this was it. He could avoid this, he could, certainly, absolutely he could, but he would not, he would not call on it, that was unacceptable
He came out of the darkness and onto the opposite ledge. Controlling his fall was difficult, and so he hit the earth facefirst, with a groan, but alive, the stone still cradled under his chest, the golems on the far side of the rift. Carter could hear them stomping away, their quarry (hah, haha ha) lost to them. A small miracle, he thought, that they didn’t leap across themselves.
Choking back a sob, he thrust his fist into the earth, punching it until his knuckles bled.
Another step and his lungs would shatter, but to stop in his tracks would see his spine do the same. All the same, the latter impulse won out over the former, and Carter collapsed, falling to his knees and propping himself up and out of the dirt with one hand. Even in exhaustion, he clutched the package in his other arm, wrapped hastily in a canvas cloth, to his chest, unwilling and unable to let go. The ground beneath him trembled, pebbles and dirt rattling around his body as the golems approached, implacable, untiring.
Lifting his head to take in his surroundings, he cursed his luck. It was wrong, all of it. He remembered the site from his boyhood, and it had been there among the trees, but everything else was not. It was all rock and root and ruin, and at points on his approach he could look down and see there was no end to the earth beneath him, just an empty drop.
This was not a problem in and of itself. It was an existential crisis that could be partitioned and managed at a later date. As his father had always said, it was better to move forward in the dark than to wait until dawn.
Of course, his father had tripped and fallen down the stairs in the night on the way to the privy when Carter was but fifteen cycles, so what was his advice worth anyhow?
No, the trouble wasn’t that everything he knew was wrong. The problem was that he knew nothing about what was right. The theft was simple, the sneaking and the light step and the lifting of the stone an easy thing, and nary a spirit to strike him down. The trouble was the exit. Couldn’t just walk past wards, could he? Had to go round the back. Only there was no back, and in his haste, he had not scouted. A slow slide down into the earth beneath, and he had found himself surrounded by stone monstrosities, eyes aglow and faces (why faces? Why would something that was an amalgam of animated earth need a face? No, Cart, no. Not the time nor the question, focus) lacking any expression but nevertheless malevolent as they advanced to crush him.
So he’d run, and run, and now he was here, dirt beneath him, stone behind, and air ahead. For he lifted his eyes once he caught his breath, and saw a gap of some ten yalms between he and safety. There wasn’t much of a distance between he and peril, of course, but he wasn’t looking for that kind of thing.
It would be simple to - but no, he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He could jump. He was fast. Nicolae had said his step was light and his legs were quick. He could jump. Couldn’t he? Well, no matter. The rumble of stone-shaped feet behind him said that he ought one way or another.
Rising to his feet, he took a deep breath, and tensed his legs for enough time to put force into his initial sprint. He was fast, faster than usual, to be sure, hoping that he could force his body to do what he wanted before its physical state caught up to him and started asking very serious questions about his intentions. His lungs seemed ready to tear out of his chest and his legs for all their swiftness felt like shackles weighing him down, as if to free himself of them would bring him to the edge that much closer, closer, and there
He leapt. In better circumstances, the moment might have been exhilarating, that feeling of nothing beneath the feet at great speeds and greater heights. He remembered leaping from the Jadeite Flood as a child, remembered the thrill, remembered landing wrong and breaking a leg and months of pain when they couldn’t afford the conjuror.
And here, too, the opposite edge seemed far, too far, farther than he’d thought, and higher too, and only as he fell did Carter realize “Oh.â€
He did not look down at the sky beneath him, or wonder how far he was from ground. If this was it, this was it. He could avoid this, he could, certainly, absolutely he could, but he would not, he would not call on it, that was unacceptable
He came out of the darkness and onto the opposite ledge. Controlling his fall was difficult, and so he hit the earth facefirst, with a groan, but alive, the stone still cradled under his chest, the golems on the far side of the rift. Carter could hear them stomping away, their quarry (hah, haha ha) lost to them. A small miracle, he thought, that they didn’t leap across themselves.
Choking back a sob, he thrust his fist into the earth, punching it until his knuckles bled.
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Current Fate-14 Storyline:Â Merchant, Marine
Current Fate-14 Storyline:Â Merchant, Marine