Re: The Great Belligerency [Round 3: Eternity Plateau]
03-20-2012, 04:45 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by MalkyTop.
It was harder to track her ward than it should be. Soft just wasn’t built for flying as well as Cole, really. And it didn’t help that a bunch of singing their semaphore songs through the trees so rubbish kept bouncing along in her head like a stream of consciousness gone wrong.
This whole place was going all wrong. Which meant she had failed at preserving it.
Because bug boy never kept on track at all. He was always so difficult. What was she supposed to do with him? But other than that…
…What was she supposed to do with this plateau?
It could be saved. There was absolutely no doubt. If Soft knew anything, it was that the lowest point gave opportunities to reach the best ending. So obviously she could still fix this but and they danced through and through the night prancing away the glancing fright and the marmalade snakes flew to the sky while the murmury moles murmured on by how could she even begin?
Soft looked down. Bug boy was still flying along towards the beacon thing which she still hadn’t quite figured out what it was yet. With what she had at her disposal, maybe it was completely hopeless. Maybe, actually, this was a story of the dangers of progress.
It fit, right?
And the land should then be sillified the solidified silk until the raggazat sat on devastated. Oral tradition had to die again. Always, oral tradition had to die. Why couldn’t art live forever?
“Wow, they gave it to you?”
Soft looked beside her and saw a normal black bird flying nearby.
“I mean, no offense. Just that, y’know, that weapon there is rather very important and I thought those guys were gonna hand it down to some sort of hero figure and, well, you’re not much of one.”
“Crow, right?” Soft smiled. “Good to see you. I’m a fan of your work.”
The crow puffed up. “Ah! Well, that’s very nice of you to say. Y’know, I just got out of this really dreadful situation, just life-threatening, and – “
“Oh, I know. You don’t have to tell me.” Soft glanced upwards. “Seen your brother recently?”
Crow probably would have rubbed the back of his head if he didn’t need both wings to fly. “It’s not very easy to just visit him. He’s always working. Hard worker, him. Doesn’t make for good conversations. And it’s rather hot up where he is. Scorched my feathers black, y’know.”
Soft nodded. “Explanatory stories and all. I think I’m going to go up there, though. Do you want to follow?”
Crow quite visibly didn’t want to. But he said, “Yeah, sure! Why not? I’ve got loads to tell him, and he…well, he probably doesn’t have loads to tell me, really. Not much for him to talk about. But I can talk enough for both of us, I guess, so – woah! Wait up!”
This certainly would be a…bizarre cautionary tale about progress. The narrative was more of a non sequitur. And the ending wouldn’t make any sense at all. But by god, would it be an ending.
Soft flew up towards the sun.
It was harder to track her ward than it should be. Soft just wasn’t built for flying as well as Cole, really. And it didn’t help that a bunch of singing their semaphore songs through the trees so rubbish kept bouncing along in her head like a stream of consciousness gone wrong.
This whole place was going all wrong. Which meant she had failed at preserving it.
Because bug boy never kept on track at all. He was always so difficult. What was she supposed to do with him? But other than that…
…What was she supposed to do with this plateau?
It could be saved. There was absolutely no doubt. If Soft knew anything, it was that the lowest point gave opportunities to reach the best ending. So obviously she could still fix this but and they danced through and through the night prancing away the glancing fright and the marmalade snakes flew to the sky while the murmury moles murmured on by how could she even begin?
Soft looked down. Bug boy was still flying along towards the beacon thing which she still hadn’t quite figured out what it was yet. With what she had at her disposal, maybe it was completely hopeless. Maybe, actually, this was a story of the dangers of progress.
It fit, right?
And the land should then be sillified the solidified silk until the raggazat sat on devastated. Oral tradition had to die again. Always, oral tradition had to die. Why couldn’t art live forever?
“Wow, they gave it to you?”
Soft looked beside her and saw a normal black bird flying nearby.
“I mean, no offense. Just that, y’know, that weapon there is rather very important and I thought those guys were gonna hand it down to some sort of hero figure and, well, you’re not much of one.”
“Crow, right?” Soft smiled. “Good to see you. I’m a fan of your work.”
The crow puffed up. “Ah! Well, that’s very nice of you to say. Y’know, I just got out of this really dreadful situation, just life-threatening, and – “
“Oh, I know. You don’t have to tell me.” Soft glanced upwards. “Seen your brother recently?”
Crow probably would have rubbed the back of his head if he didn’t need both wings to fly. “It’s not very easy to just visit him. He’s always working. Hard worker, him. Doesn’t make for good conversations. And it’s rather hot up where he is. Scorched my feathers black, y’know.”
Soft nodded. “Explanatory stories and all. I think I’m going to go up there, though. Do you want to follow?”
Crow quite visibly didn’t want to. But he said, “Yeah, sure! Why not? I’ve got loads to tell him, and he…well, he probably doesn’t have loads to tell me, really. Not much for him to talk about. But I can talk enough for both of us, I guess, so – woah! Wait up!”
This certainly would be a…bizarre cautionary tale about progress. The narrative was more of a non sequitur. And the ending wouldn’t make any sense at all. But by god, would it be an ending.
Soft flew up towards the sun.