Random Drivel

[Aaeden]

Ok. People want to see me write (well, at least one person does). Given that my story ideas are faaaar from being done (well not really that far, maybe a few less a's), I've decided to whip up some random drivel. It sounds worse than it's actually going to be.

The air glistened with a heavy mist, the rains having long since passed. The dripping rustle sounding through the trees at the panthress' back provided a backdrop to the overall silence, not loud enough to invade upon her thoughts, but significant enough to frame them in a comfortable surround. Her eyes gaze into the mist, almost lost in the lack of definition, the shocking lock of blue hair slipping down the side of her muzzle pulled backwards by her restless paw. She was still dressed in her motorcycle leathers, tight-fitting jacket and pants designed to cut down on wind resistance as she rode, a tight white t-shirt worn under her black-furred throat at an attempt at modesty, given the wide neckline of the jacket.

The creak of leather invades what silence is left as she stands, the lopsided rock she was sitting on glistening with more of the sky-shed fluids. A gleam on the horizon captured her attention, and she watches as the dome slips from the fog like a giant tortoise, slow moving and ominous. She smiles as she watches it emerge, oblivious to the scenery around it, the glass designed to filter and polarize the light hitting its surface, decreasing the visible spectrum inside of its confines to a mere tenth of what she was experiencing outside. She quite likes the lighting in the dome, and it's always nice to go out riding in a thunderstorm, as she had this morning, however the sunny brilliance that follows is something that she doesn't get to experience often.

Suddenly, her skin tightens, becoming as cold and clammy as the air around her, as she looks to the edge of the dome, to what she now sees moving. Obviously, the creatures had been prowling in the thunderstorm, as they are wont to do, and were now looking for shelter from the fiery orb. She curses hastily, the blue lock swinging as she spins and races back to her bike. A humming whine erupts from the smooth metal chassis as she kicks off and bursts from the forest cover, some errant animals scattering as the roar of her bike erupts past the lopsided rock and down onto the grassy fields between her and the dome. She doesn't waste thoughts on figuring out how they got so close without triggering the proximity alarm... instead, her grip tightens on the handles of the bike, picking up speed as she races towards the dome.

Hmm. I guess it did sort of end up me writing one of my story ideas. Intentionally left vague, of course, but it's an element of my story. No doubt this won't actually be contained in the story itself, but we'll see.

[Aaeden]

In retrospect, three paragraphs isn't exactly shiny, but it does give an idea of my writing style beyond simple description. A little bit of action tossed in, along with emotion and response to stimuli and whatnot. I figure I'll toss up more examples and such when I get more time, hopefully longer and more detailed.

[Aaeden]

The town was positively humming, not so much from the babble of voices but from the actual feeling of power surging through the very architecture and the land on which it was placed. The chatter of the marketplace was interspersed with surges of sound and music from the various minstrels, each cordoned into their own quadrant of the square to maximize the variety and minimize the quarrels as minstrels are prone to. As anyone who has borne witness to a quarrel between minstrels can attest, it sounds something like a powerful rushing symphony if the minstrels are each of significant artistic talent, and much like a thousand kitchens crashing together if their ability is something along the lines of the street musicians playing for silvers. The constant rush of sound and music aside, merchants peddle their wares and services, blacksmiths wiping their paws along dull swords, the metal warping and glowing with inner heat, bakers waving their hands over glistening cakes and pies, all steaming hot in the middle of the street, and several less quarrelsome performers making art with smoke and water glistening in the noon sun as the errant wisps of liquid forms spray their audiences with a refreshing mist.

Aaeden didn't care much for the show, frankly; what he was looking for was far less showy and far more difficult to find. He respected the musicians and the artists and everyone who could wield power in their own individual way, but his own powers, as always, were held in a tight grip, saved for when he needed them. Right now, he was far more interested in the less showy peddlers, the ones who had the new gearforms he was searching for. As creative and industrious as he was, his mind never could quite grasp the intricate designs of some of the higher engineers, gearforms being one of those arts he cursed the local engineering guilds for not teaching. If he wanted to learn it all, he'd need to get out of this place. And to get out of this place, he needed gearforms in order to do the work that he loved. Nature's cruel fate, sprinkled among the ashes of old Mechna's ruins.

Once again, more random drivel that actually sounds beautiful, but I have no idea where it's going.

[crazyfur]

for me//interesting, i wanna know what happens next but far too much glistening going on.

[Aaeden]

Haha you're totally right. Damn my redundant descriptors. Remember, this is without that gem known as editing. I literally sat down for 5-10 minutes this afternoon and said "Hmm..." and this is what popped out. Granted, it's linked in with the existing world and characters I have in mind, but there's a lot there I haven't explored yet.