|
Ligerbird -> (DF) Take Shelter (1/14/2012 14:03:21)
|
I've never, ever written a fanfic about DF before. I've always kept and coveted them in my brain, but they're pretty tacky. I'd still love you forever and forever if you'd read it.
Here's the discussion thread.
~
I'm not sure what this story is, exactly. It's kind of amorphous and jelly-like, and I bet you could poke it with a spoon it will warp in unintended ways as I write it out. Currently, the basic idea is about the origin of the Dragon Boxes (White and Black), the two dragon eggs, and a city underground, invaded by odd monsters that have never before seen the light. This is a story taking place awhile ago, when people once inhabited that city before everything about it was lost forever.../cue dramatic music
(Just as a warning, on DF, I'm sort of new, so I'm not too far into the plot. Some details might get screwed up.)
~
Prologue
The two eyes blinked into existence approximately a half-mile away from the main hall, suffused in a malevolent red light. They appeared at approximately afternoon, if time could be discerned in this stark, colorless world. The sun's rays seeped in through whatever crevices they could find. Otherwise, apart from the man-made lights that dotted the desolate streets, the city was submerged in darkness.
Once upon a time, a long time ago, people spoke of dragons.
But people also spoke of a world, up above them, on top of their great earthen ceilings, and something called sky. Some still remembered it before they had moved underground. Most didn't. But this city had originated, some said, up there, underneath that vast blue thing called the Sky. The people had started out walking on earth, walled in wind and trees - not tree roots, but real, tall, lovely trees. But then the Accident had occurred. No one looked back. They moved, and rumor had it that the skeleton of their abandoned city still stood, underneath the Sky, walled in wind and trees. The husk of it, blowing with ashes. No one spoke of the Accident, and when they did, it was usually bitter, or in remembrance of the heroes that had led them away from it. In fact, the leaders of this underground world tried their very hardest to keep the Accident concealed from its citizens. So gradually, over time, generation after generation, less and less people knew exactly what the Accident was.
The red eyes shifted, darted, and then winked out.
No one saw them, but they were there.
And they were important.
The truth about the Accident had faded.
So when Sierra Smokes was born, in her underground house in the underground city, she knew nothing about it. Growing up in the underground academies, she learned about it, but only enough to know that it existed.
And the night she turned fifteen, the red eyes reappeared.
And a glittering mouth of fangs flashed, a lethal, shining smile.
And softly, on the ground, little feet pattered, and pattered.
And more red eyes emerged.
All through the night, the guardians of the city saw only red lights, flashing fangs, and that soft pattering of thousands of little feet against the ground.
|
|
|
|
