sturdycoldsteel (
sturdycoldsteel) wrote in
glowfic2015-09-16 11:22 pm
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Entry tags:
random pointless swirls
The shaper known as Steel is flying down the right side of a road, shoring up the edges of the bluestream that lets her lift herself off the ground as she goes. Sure, she'll be a bit clumsy and weak when she gets to Opri, but she's not planning on doing much more stream-shaping today, so might as well.
She glances at the bluestream (the magical vision blinds her physical vision for a short moment, but not long enough to crash into anything) and determines that this next crossroads is where she needs to turn. She tilts to the right...
...And lands on a patch of orange grass in a forest clearing. This is not the town of Opri. She opens her eyes and ears to the bluestream, trying to figure out what the hell is going on.
The bluestream here isn't a nice, orderly, useful pattern like on the roads, or the formless fog that it usually decays to after a while. Instead it's a riot of random patterns swirling around, wispy and confused and obviously not designed to do anything useful.
Steel, deaf and blind for a few seconds thanks to her peek at the bluestream, stands very still and is very confused.
She glances at the bluestream (the magical vision blinds her physical vision for a short moment, but not long enough to crash into anything) and determines that this next crossroads is where she needs to turn. She tilts to the right...
...And lands on a patch of orange grass in a forest clearing. This is not the town of Opri. She opens her eyes and ears to the bluestream, trying to figure out what the hell is going on.
The bluestream here isn't a nice, orderly, useful pattern like on the roads, or the formless fog that it usually decays to after a while. Instead it's a riot of random patterns swirling around, wispy and confused and obviously not designed to do anything useful.
Steel, deaf and blind for a few seconds thanks to her peek at the bluestream, stands very still and is very confused.
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Promise is kind of picky.
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If this lasts more than another two days, she'll say something.
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"Where do you want the next gate to lead?"
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The atlas is produced from the pile of stuff and opened to a reasonably small-scaled geographic map. A spot on it is marked. "I want to learn gates myself sometime, but not when getting it right is particularly important."
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Promise likes the natural tangle around her new tree, considering she can see it, so she moves away a bit to flatten a space for the gate.
There it goes.
"Here you are."
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A sigh. "War is dangerous. I won't go looking for trouble, but I need to figure out what's going on." Without waiting for a reply, she steps through the gate.
She's back in two and a half hours.
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