kihou: (Default)
Arrived at Dovecoral this evening. Large and prosperous. Similar architecture to back home, though more wood and less stone.

Saw a large temple for a sungod of some sort on my way in. Not Awendala, but it's almost something of home.

Took a walk on the shore of the Dragonomen Bay. They say it's named after a local legend, but it didn't give me any answer, draconic or otherwise.

Sky sinks into night.
Wheeling seabirds strive to soar
only to falter.
What hope then for these sore feet
far from their heart-marked shore path?

Read more... )
kihou: (whimsically)
The sun is too bright. Bruin aches all over. He's not used to sleeping on rough ground these days. Where is he, anyways? And what happened to the snow?

He sits up and opens his eyes. It is definitely spring, and he's definitely never seen this hilly countryside before. Even the wildflowers look strange. He tries to think back… He must have been on a scouting mission. But where's the rest of the crew? Where's the escape line? And falling into someone else’s dream normally doesn't hurt this much.

A small girl, maybe 11 or 12, is walking towards him. She stops three paces away, pauses, then asks, “Does it hurt to fall out of the sky? Dad said it didn't, but I don't think I believe him.”
Read more... )
kihou: (In a tree)
{Because I sorta want to get excited about starting a local tabletop and I don't write much these days and I'm obsessed with Hitherby, I'm going to start writing random scenes set in my Dreamspace setting. "Not guaranteed to be canon, or to be told by a reliable narrator."}

Hurn* is a thin world. Your world is thick! If you punch the ground, you'll probably hurt yourself. If you read an elegeic poem, probably nothing will be different! Your world mostly stays put.

Hurn is different. Sure, most of the time when people punch the ground, the ground punches back. But sometimes when someone recites an elegy, they find part way through it's actually a limerick! It's a bit disconcerting. And it's not just a trick played by a monkey god, swapping the poem. It's a bit of dream seeping through and changing the underlying motivation.

See, in your world, the world is so thick that dreams are quite a ways from reality. There's a whole world in between! That keeps things pretty orderly.

But in Hurn, the world is so thin, you're actually closer to dreams than you are to the horizon. It makes cartography interesting, that's for sure.

“Epistles from a Native” #1, from Collected Letters from the Sink, compiled by R. Amaranth.

{P.S. Hopefully these won't all be quite so derivative of Hitherby.}

*: {If the Dreamspace world is named Hurn for the same reason Haernamë is named Haernamë, I really need to go back in time and slap myself.}

July 2017

S M T W T F S
      1
23456 78
9101112131415
16171819202122
23242526272829
3031     

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Jul. 25th, 2017 02:38 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios