Fill: Challenge 96, Original, Lemy'es
Sep. 3rd, 2022 05:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lantairvlea posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
tenminutesadayStill writing a bunch in my novel, but decided to take a brief break for some purple prose! This scene (if it were in the book) would be towards the end of chapter one.
The door slammed shut behind Teigan and he dropped heavily down the steps. Each footfall sounding loudly against the wood, like a hollow drum beaten roughly by its mallet. He shoved the hat on his head and started to shake out the shirt to find the sleeves to pull it on, but his anger was boiling over and the heat wouldn't be contained. The fabric under his fingers smoldered and blackened at his touch, lifting and replacing each digit in a quick staccato in a failed attempt to touch it just short enough to prevent it from burning, but puffs of smoke escaping around his hand as the heat of his rage manifested itself. Like a furnace heated too high, threatening to destroy itself, pushing against what little contains it posing a danger to everything around it. He cursed and wadded the shirt back up, giving up and throwing the smoldering bundle of blackened cloth, tiny flames threatening to consume it. It landed with an irritable hiss of steam that curled and twisted above the water in the trough as he passed.
Eleven years and the shadow of the Meim stretched over them yet again. Like a kettle of vultures circling threateningly overhead, their broad, soaring wings blocking the light in turn. Menacing and smelling of death. The Elders wouldn't go against them at all. They cowered and shrank at the suggested trace of the Meim's presence. They wouldn't even consider trying to protect Kayrin after all she had done and been for the Keystone, for Geteilpohth as a whole. Cowards.
And yet beneath all the rage and anger, burning hot and bright at the surface there was something else. Buried deep in the depths of his soul, gripping at his heart, the hottest embers at the core of the fire was fear. If the Elders were terrified of the mere specter of the Meim, how dangerous were they really? Had they followed them? Were they looking for Kayrin in Geteilpohth or had they been seeking Sray this whole time?
They wanted his daughter. He couldn't process it. Meim. They wanted Sray. By some sick, twisted joke of the cosmos it had to be his daughter. The intent of the experiments fulfilled some hundred fifty years later and it was his daughter.
The purple prose made me realize that while I am sometimes verbose, I am not that verbose!
The door slammed shut behind Teigan and he dropped heavily down the steps. Each footfall sounding loudly against the wood, like a hollow drum beaten roughly by its mallet. He shoved the hat on his head and started to shake out the shirt to find the sleeves to pull it on, but his anger was boiling over and the heat wouldn't be contained. The fabric under his fingers smoldered and blackened at his touch, lifting and replacing each digit in a quick staccato in a failed attempt to touch it just short enough to prevent it from burning, but puffs of smoke escaping around his hand as the heat of his rage manifested itself. Like a furnace heated too high, threatening to destroy itself, pushing against what little contains it posing a danger to everything around it. He cursed and wadded the shirt back up, giving up and throwing the smoldering bundle of blackened cloth, tiny flames threatening to consume it. It landed with an irritable hiss of steam that curled and twisted above the water in the trough as he passed.
Eleven years and the shadow of the Meim stretched over them yet again. Like a kettle of vultures circling threateningly overhead, their broad, soaring wings blocking the light in turn. Menacing and smelling of death. The Elders wouldn't go against them at all. They cowered and shrank at the suggested trace of the Meim's presence. They wouldn't even consider trying to protect Kayrin after all she had done and been for the Keystone, for Geteilpohth as a whole. Cowards.
And yet beneath all the rage and anger, burning hot and bright at the surface there was something else. Buried deep in the depths of his soul, gripping at his heart, the hottest embers at the core of the fire was fear. If the Elders were terrified of the mere specter of the Meim, how dangerous were they really? Had they followed them? Were they looking for Kayrin in Geteilpohth or had they been seeking Sray this whole time?
They wanted his daughter. He couldn't process it. Meim. They wanted Sray. By some sick, twisted joke of the cosmos it had to be his daughter. The intent of the experiments fulfilled some hundred fifty years later and it was his daughter.
The purple prose made me realize that while I am sometimes verbose, I am not that verbose!
