Chapter 1 rough draft
Jul. 29th, 2018 10:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ivorelsfateIvorel sighed. Russ, her lively and impetuous toddler, was finally in bed. It had only taken an hour of "getting him" (chasing him around the house, interspersed with tickles, until he was exhausted), and a hot dog, but it was done. Now she had the luxury of checking her bandages. Stepping on that rune had done little good for her, even if she had avoided the worst of the resulting blast, and she wanted to see if the regenerating tissue was progressing at the rate she'd hoped. Her wings were KILLING HER, and missing a fair few of their long iridescent white feathers, and that didn't change even if she DID have them hidden.
She sighed heavily as she sat on the bed, not anticipating this event with much excitement. She procrastinated, appreciating the sunset thorugh her arched, curtained doorways that led to the outdoors. Having grown up in a more industrial setting, with little to no land to bring her peace from her abusive mother, she never took the view for granted.
Eventually, of course, it had to be done. Her wings throbbed again in reminder, and so she gathered her supplies (a bowl of water, stacks of gauze, a bottle of healing serum, and a small trash can for the soiled ones), and got to work.
She hissed as she started peeling back the one over her left shoulder and scapula, right over the base of her flight wing. She's a damn good healer, and usually did her own first aid when needed-telekinesis allowed that-but damn, sometimes they stuck! I'll have to see if I can perfect that, she thought to herself for the hundredth time. She never did.
A low chuckle from behind her told her that her husband Radal had finally come home from his security detail for the day and had been watching her self-inflicted medicinal masochism. "You could have just asked," he said, amusement heavy in his tone. She loved his voice-it was melodic and low, and very pretty. It was even better when he sang. "You can never get those on your own without pulling out half your feathers.
She didn't so much love the teasing. Well, that was a lie, she did, but not when she was trying NOT to pull out her feathers.
He kissed her on the cheek, and she reached up to tug sharply on his long blonde hair, but rolled her eyes and smiled. "Just don't YOU rip any out. I'd hate to mar your pretty face with a feather cut. You know my wings have a mind of their own, and they get sharp."
"HAH. You wish. You'd divorce me on grounds of ugliness." He was entirely too smug as he started working, she thought. It'd never happen after half a millenium of marriage, and he knew it.
"Morgoth's tits, just-GAH-just see if you can change those, you troll. Go eat a baby," she sassed him through gritted teeth. She'd clearly done a sub-par job applying the first set, and she silently chastised herself. Moreso, when she heard the telltale cry from the nursery.
She groaned, and looked up at Radal mournfully. "I must not have given him enough water." He smirked at her. "I can get it."
"Don't you dare! You have to stay here and ponder the meaning of appropriately applied bandages. Didn't you notice I hadn't gotten many set to soak? They need treated or they'll end up as stuck as these blasted things are."
"Wouldn't that make YOU the one who needs to sit and ponder?" he asked, finishing the removal of the first bandage so she could get up.
"Shush." She cheekily flipped him off with a smirk, pleased at the intrigued eyebrow and disgruntled huff as she sauntered out of the room. She'd made sure to let her hips sway more than normal.
She yawned, and shoved her long brown-black hair out of her face. Much of the hallways were open in her home, compensated with with environmental wards to keep the temperature pleasant and the rain out, so that the residents could enjoy the scent and feel of the outdoors and the breezes. It provided problems for her when her braids were down. Her son's room was a little distance away as there were no threats on her land, and elven hearing being what it was, she didn't want her son making her ears ring every time something was wrong.
"I'm coming, Russel, hold your horses. I'm sure you're thirsty, just hold on," she called, "and maybe shut the fuck up," she added, under her breath.
She opened the door, tired and slightly sullen, expecting to see him standing on the side of his crib, copper hair mussed and face red and furious, sippy cup thrown on the ground.
What she saw was entirely different, and her heart was instantly in her throat, eyes wide with shock. "What the fuck..." she whispered. She'd seen portals before-they're the most common form of transporation in Loth Ennorath, because the country is simply that large-but this...this was different. Was it even a portal? It didn't seem like it, stable portals showed the destination on the other side! This was a spinning oval, green and opalescent, that looked like the top of a very small tornado, spinning with so much force that the loose things in Russ' room were flying around. He was shrieking in terror, not thirst, because the portal seemed to be REACHING for him.
She leapt toward him without thinking, putting herself between him and it, and in one motion picked him up with her right arm, her left extended towards the portal in a reflexive defensive motion. She yelled as the reaching tendril grasped her hand, curled what she could of her body around her son, and simply held on, wondering if Radal heard her yell over the noise of the thing as it consumed them both.
She sighed heavily as she sat on the bed, not anticipating this event with much excitement. She procrastinated, appreciating the sunset thorugh her arched, curtained doorways that led to the outdoors. Having grown up in a more industrial setting, with little to no land to bring her peace from her abusive mother, she never took the view for granted.
Eventually, of course, it had to be done. Her wings throbbed again in reminder, and so she gathered her supplies (a bowl of water, stacks of gauze, a bottle of healing serum, and a small trash can for the soiled ones), and got to work.
She hissed as she started peeling back the one over her left shoulder and scapula, right over the base of her flight wing. She's a damn good healer, and usually did her own first aid when needed-telekinesis allowed that-but damn, sometimes they stuck! I'll have to see if I can perfect that, she thought to herself for the hundredth time. She never did.
A low chuckle from behind her told her that her husband Radal had finally come home from his security detail for the day and had been watching her self-inflicted medicinal masochism. "You could have just asked," he said, amusement heavy in his tone. She loved his voice-it was melodic and low, and very pretty. It was even better when he sang. "You can never get those on your own without pulling out half your feathers.
She didn't so much love the teasing. Well, that was a lie, she did, but not when she was trying NOT to pull out her feathers.
He kissed her on the cheek, and she reached up to tug sharply on his long blonde hair, but rolled her eyes and smiled. "Just don't YOU rip any out. I'd hate to mar your pretty face with a feather cut. You know my wings have a mind of their own, and they get sharp."
"HAH. You wish. You'd divorce me on grounds of ugliness." He was entirely too smug as he started working, she thought. It'd never happen after half a millenium of marriage, and he knew it.
"Morgoth's tits, just-GAH-just see if you can change those, you troll. Go eat a baby," she sassed him through gritted teeth. She'd clearly done a sub-par job applying the first set, and she silently chastised herself. Moreso, when she heard the telltale cry from the nursery.
She groaned, and looked up at Radal mournfully. "I must not have given him enough water." He smirked at her. "I can get it."
"Don't you dare! You have to stay here and ponder the meaning of appropriately applied bandages. Didn't you notice I hadn't gotten many set to soak? They need treated or they'll end up as stuck as these blasted things are."
"Wouldn't that make YOU the one who needs to sit and ponder?" he asked, finishing the removal of the first bandage so she could get up.
"Shush." She cheekily flipped him off with a smirk, pleased at the intrigued eyebrow and disgruntled huff as she sauntered out of the room. She'd made sure to let her hips sway more than normal.
She yawned, and shoved her long brown-black hair out of her face. Much of the hallways were open in her home, compensated with with environmental wards to keep the temperature pleasant and the rain out, so that the residents could enjoy the scent and feel of the outdoors and the breezes. It provided problems for her when her braids were down. Her son's room was a little distance away as there were no threats on her land, and elven hearing being what it was, she didn't want her son making her ears ring every time something was wrong.
"I'm coming, Russel, hold your horses. I'm sure you're thirsty, just hold on," she called, "and maybe shut the fuck up," she added, under her breath.
She opened the door, tired and slightly sullen, expecting to see him standing on the side of his crib, copper hair mussed and face red and furious, sippy cup thrown on the ground.
What she saw was entirely different, and her heart was instantly in her throat, eyes wide with shock. "What the fuck..." she whispered. She'd seen portals before-they're the most common form of transporation in Loth Ennorath, because the country is simply that large-but this...this was different. Was it even a portal? It didn't seem like it, stable portals showed the destination on the other side! This was a spinning oval, green and opalescent, that looked like the top of a very small tornado, spinning with so much force that the loose things in Russ' room were flying around. He was shrieking in terror, not thirst, because the portal seemed to be REACHING for him.
She leapt toward him without thinking, putting herself between him and it, and in one motion picked him up with her right arm, her left extended towards the portal in a reflexive defensive motion. She yelled as the reaching tendril grasped her hand, curled what she could of her body around her son, and simply held on, wondering if Radal heard her yell over the noise of the thing as it consumed them both.
