Re: Mini-Grand 5106 [Round 2: The Graben]
09-16-2011, 08:03 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by XX.
this is the day that a queen became god
she touches the spear that the brave cat left (good cat, good cat, you brought me winter and winter is mine) the cats all have these spears. the cats and the mice. there are no blades for a ghost though they bring them to her, to touch and bless with her teeth and her tongue. no blades for a ghost, no ghost for blades, she has no need. fangs and fear and silence are all the Silent know. she shows the spear to Winter
“These are the teeth of mice.”
she brings her leg down and breaks it like a branch
“These are the hands of a ghost. I fear no mice, no fear no fear. I am the ghost that killed Death.”
Winter sighs. she knows the faces of winter, now, she is better and this ghost is queen. “Yes, but there will not be just one… tooth. There will be hundreds. Thousands, perhaps. This entire village could be exterminated, including you and quite possibly even myself.” Winter takes the head of the spear and brings it across his thumb. red line, red line, all the blood in winter can’t block out the ice. “Even mice can be dangerous in numbers.”
the ghost is quiet, though she moves from the cave of gold and silver into the light. winter follows, winter follows. she thinks of the nest she was born in and the siblings she ate. a swarm a swarm a silent Silent swarm she might have died but she didn’t. no swarm can kill a ghost. nothing can kill a ghost.
this is a ghost who became a god
“There is a chance, however,” Winter says in his voice of snow and ice, he does not know that he speaks to the Spider Who Is God, “that if we kill the river spirit, her hold over the army will dissolve and they will return to their senses. Naturally this will leave the other chix defenseless and we can pick them off from there.”
“The river is a mouse?”
“Er, in a manner of speaking. I believe she’s still mortal.”
the ghost is silent, the ghost is still. she has hunted in forests of white and green and grey and no prey has ever escaped her that she did not release. “We hunt this mouse.”
“Yes, well, that’s where the army part comes in-”
the ghost turns to Winter and he sees she knows he sees her chains and gold and paint, the gifts of cats but the face of a goddess. slowly slowly she places her fangs on his neck, no fear no fear but this is the way a spider hunts.
“This mouse is only one, Winter. We hunt this mouse and when we do, we kill.”
___________
Xuitila approached the Spider’s temple with the urgency of fleeing prey.
Morokh and Ransajan hurried behind her, the former calling out to the rapidly gathering crowd and the latter striding stiffly along, ignoring the hisses and jeers. She saw friends and family waving to her, confused and frightened, but she had no time to stop. The entire city might fall by the next dawn; she did have the luxury of consoling those who needed it.
As the steps of the temple grew near, however, the three began to grow worried. The high walls rose tall and still, the chanting of the priests within a deafening wail that echoed thunderously in the empty stone. The fires at its tip had gone out and were sending soft columns of smoke like dark fingers against the sky.
She knew what had happened even before the High Chieftain came to her, his mouth a grim slash. “The Spider has left us.”
Morokh growled and Ransajan’s face twitched with something that might have been pain. “She… is gone?”
The Chieftain gave his rival a long, cold look that spoke nothing of forgiveness between them, but eventually nodded. “She and the man that traveled with you.”
Morokh paled. “What did he say? What did he tell her?”
“I do not know, child,” the Chieftain said gently, “but we know what we must do. We will defend against the river’s tide as best as we can and destroy as many of its slaves as we are able. This is our only hope.”
“But what of your Spider?” Ransajan asked.
The Chieftain’s face betrayed nothing. “The goddess has gone to repair what your people brought upon us. She has gone to kill the river.”
this is the day that a queen became god
she touches the spear that the brave cat left (good cat, good cat, you brought me winter and winter is mine) the cats all have these spears. the cats and the mice. there are no blades for a ghost though they bring them to her, to touch and bless with her teeth and her tongue. no blades for a ghost, no ghost for blades, she has no need. fangs and fear and silence are all the Silent know. she shows the spear to Winter
“These are the teeth of mice.”
she brings her leg down and breaks it like a branch
“These are the hands of a ghost. I fear no mice, no fear no fear. I am the ghost that killed Death.”
Winter sighs. she knows the faces of winter, now, she is better and this ghost is queen. “Yes, but there will not be just one… tooth. There will be hundreds. Thousands, perhaps. This entire village could be exterminated, including you and quite possibly even myself.” Winter takes the head of the spear and brings it across his thumb. red line, red line, all the blood in winter can’t block out the ice. “Even mice can be dangerous in numbers.”
the ghost is quiet, though she moves from the cave of gold and silver into the light. winter follows, winter follows. she thinks of the nest she was born in and the siblings she ate. a swarm a swarm a silent Silent swarm she might have died but she didn’t. no swarm can kill a ghost. nothing can kill a ghost.
this is a ghost who became a god
“There is a chance, however,” Winter says in his voice of snow and ice, he does not know that he speaks to the Spider Who Is God, “that if we kill the river spirit, her hold over the army will dissolve and they will return to their senses. Naturally this will leave the other chix defenseless and we can pick them off from there.”
“The river is a mouse?”
“Er, in a manner of speaking. I believe she’s still mortal.”
the ghost is silent, the ghost is still. she has hunted in forests of white and green and grey and no prey has ever escaped her that she did not release. “We hunt this mouse.”
“Yes, well, that’s where the army part comes in-”
the ghost turns to Winter and he sees she knows he sees her chains and gold and paint, the gifts of cats but the face of a goddess. slowly slowly she places her fangs on his neck, no fear no fear but this is the way a spider hunts.
“This mouse is only one, Winter. We hunt this mouse and when we do, we kill.”
___________
Xuitila approached the Spider’s temple with the urgency of fleeing prey.
Morokh and Ransajan hurried behind her, the former calling out to the rapidly gathering crowd and the latter striding stiffly along, ignoring the hisses and jeers. She saw friends and family waving to her, confused and frightened, but she had no time to stop. The entire city might fall by the next dawn; she did have the luxury of consoling those who needed it.
As the steps of the temple grew near, however, the three began to grow worried. The high walls rose tall and still, the chanting of the priests within a deafening wail that echoed thunderously in the empty stone. The fires at its tip had gone out and were sending soft columns of smoke like dark fingers against the sky.
She knew what had happened even before the High Chieftain came to her, his mouth a grim slash. “The Spider has left us.”
Morokh growled and Ransajan’s face twitched with something that might have been pain. “She… is gone?”
The Chieftain gave his rival a long, cold look that spoke nothing of forgiveness between them, but eventually nodded. “She and the man that traveled with you.”
Morokh paled. “What did he say? What did he tell her?”
“I do not know, child,” the Chieftain said gently, “but we know what we must do. We will defend against the river’s tide as best as we can and destroy as many of its slaves as we are able. This is our only hope.”
“But what of your Spider?” Ransajan asked.
The Chieftain’s face betrayed nothing. “The goddess has gone to repair what your people brought upon us. She has gone to kill the river.”