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scramasax) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
eachdraidh2014-07-14 03:56 pm
scramasax) wrote in eachdraidh2014-07-14 03:56 pm
Entry tags:
1. [Video | Locked to Seelie // Video | Forward-Dated to July 15th]
[There's a lad on the locket network. Long hair, green eyes, looks as if he hasn't gotten much sleep, which he hasn't, since the stars, and even less since the call to the chests, but otherwise he's keeping steady.
Eyes up the locket warily before speaking.]
Ah - greetings. I -- [Stops short with his mouth partly-closed. Backtracks into another bit of eyeing-up...] Is this - is this only, visible - to the Seelie Court?
I, er.
[Another glance - downward and back up. Just an on-the-spot fidget. Speaks up docilely, mildly.]
...I apologize. I had -- I had wondered. The -- Courts are in a state of war. Do the Seelie, have...
-- Scouts...?
Do we -- do we send people on patrol...?
Or -- are we never subject to attack without warning?
I ask as I haven't heard of any such thing. If - if the Shard-Holders are... to be the ones doing the fighting, then we ought to be supporting our own side in -- that way, as well.
[Not that it's his place to say shoulds, needless to say.] I would think.
-----
There is a vision of a room.
It is lightless, and all dark gray stone. In the air hangs a cloud of stagnant dust. The ceiling hangs low.
A dampened, distant sound of metal's scratches and clicks. A key fitting into a lock.
As if clockwork, a hiss is released from somewhere nearer by. An arm - a skeletal hand, gray skin fit around bones, and a worn sleeve - stretches over the floor as if structured out of wood, slow. One can all but hear it creaking.
It grips the handle of a sword, barely lifts it to catch the point in any ridge in the stone. It heaves a body up - slow, wooden, inflexible bending. Heavy. Creaking - and the hiss is drawn back in. An injection of tattered voice and it becomes an inward croak for dead air.
The body turns.
A door is opening. In comes a red robe. Two small figures follow to flank him. Dark green. Like headless mantises, with green lights spiraling above their bodies and flashing through the dust.
The body moans, and the view careens. It plunges toward the figure in red - the other two break away with trilling snarls. The sword scrapes on the ground - light, incompletely lifted.
Its voice falls through into a throaty growl - the vision snaps out of focus. The sword strikes the ground with a ring - and it swings.
The red figure is gone. And something strikes the body.
The shades of gray blur one way, then another - and then it falls divided.
Two views meld out of focus - one looking down at a skeletal eyeless face. The other one up at a red robe disappearing around a skeletal face with two eyes glassed to whiter than the dust. White that's almost bright. Sparks of green light coast through the bottom of the view.
Both views begin to spark with yellow. It spreads, it crackles, it burns, and it fuses the two views together again - painfully. A high human voice snarls, screams. Snaps and slips and peters off whimpering.
It dies - and the view is reunified and re-focused.
Up at the skeletal face with the white eyes looking down.
It blurs again a moment with intent - the sword arm is scrambling, the sword is scraping. Rise and swing again.
The skeleton overhead moves down first. It holds a stone, cut-sharp, polished red, and brings it down onto the view.
The vision dulls with half a flash and fade of luminous red. There's a faint sound, of dubious nature, and the vision's cut off.
Eyes up the locket warily before speaking.]
Ah - greetings. I -- [Stops short with his mouth partly-closed. Backtracks into another bit of eyeing-up...] Is this - is this only, visible - to the Seelie Court?
I, er.
[Another glance - downward and back up. Just an on-the-spot fidget. Speaks up docilely, mildly.]
...I apologize. I had -- I had wondered. The -- Courts are in a state of war. Do the Seelie, have...
-- Scouts...?
Do we -- do we send people on patrol...?
Or -- are we never subject to attack without warning?
I ask as I haven't heard of any such thing. If - if the Shard-Holders are... to be the ones doing the fighting, then we ought to be supporting our own side in -- that way, as well.
[Not that it's his place to say shoulds, needless to say.] I would think.
-----
There is a vision of a room.
It is lightless, and all dark gray stone. In the air hangs a cloud of stagnant dust. The ceiling hangs low.
A dampened, distant sound of metal's scratches and clicks. A key fitting into a lock.
As if clockwork, a hiss is released from somewhere nearer by. An arm - a skeletal hand, gray skin fit around bones, and a worn sleeve - stretches over the floor as if structured out of wood, slow. One can all but hear it creaking.
It grips the handle of a sword, barely lifts it to catch the point in any ridge in the stone. It heaves a body up - slow, wooden, inflexible bending. Heavy. Creaking - and the hiss is drawn back in. An injection of tattered voice and it becomes an inward croak for dead air.
The body turns.
A door is opening. In comes a red robe. Two small figures follow to flank him. Dark green. Like headless mantises, with green lights spiraling above their bodies and flashing through the dust.
The body moans, and the view careens. It plunges toward the figure in red - the other two break away with trilling snarls. The sword scrapes on the ground - light, incompletely lifted.
Its voice falls through into a throaty growl - the vision snaps out of focus. The sword strikes the ground with a ring - and it swings.
The red figure is gone. And something strikes the body.
The shades of gray blur one way, then another - and then it falls divided.
Two views meld out of focus - one looking down at a skeletal eyeless face. The other one up at a red robe disappearing around a skeletal face with two eyes glassed to whiter than the dust. White that's almost bright. Sparks of green light coast through the bottom of the view.
Both views begin to spark with yellow. It spreads, it crackles, it burns, and it fuses the two views together again - painfully. A high human voice snarls, screams. Snaps and slips and peters off whimpering.
It dies - and the view is reunified and re-focused.
Up at the skeletal face with the white eyes looking down.
It blurs again a moment with intent - the sword arm is scrambling, the sword is scraping. Rise and swing again.
The skeleton overhead moves down first. It holds a stone, cut-sharp, polished red, and brings it down onto the view.
The vision dulls with half a flash and fade of luminous red. There's a faint sound, of dubious nature, and the vision's cut off.