%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |
Steamy stories of high adventures in high winds. |
| [Introduction]
Less of a cohesive narrative, and more just an excuse to have lots of fun and tell lots of little stories, or not, as the mood takes us. Individual storylines can be started, dropped and picked up again at will, as well as moved forwards or backwards in time, so don't feel obliged to continue the story begun or added to above you. |
| They say you find things out in the fog... Things that look human... Things that aren't human. Sébastien Château stood out on the deck of the Jawkhayr, and stared over the railing into a blanket of unbroken whiteness that hung in the air like cotton wool, distorting and twisting even the thin waves of sound that tried to struggle though it. A clammy layer of moisture smothered his skin and sparkled in his hair in the pale nowhere-light of the fog. He could hear the boards of the xebec's gondola creaking and straining under his feet. It sounded unnaturally loud, as though they were frozen in time aboard this ship... As though the rest of the world was holding it's breath. Waiting... Something brushed against Sébastien's shoulder and he started. “You never did like waiting, brother.” “How many times must I tell you not to sneak around like that?” The girl beside him smiled, and brushed the back of her hand against his cheek. “It will not be long now.” “I wish you would tell your friends to hurry up,” he complained, coiling the bullwhip in his hands and running his thumb over the smooth braid of the leather. “We are three days now out of Marrakesh.” “They're not my friends, Sébastien. And They shall come when They are ready. You may as well demand an audience with the West Wind.” “I am beginning to think that would be more productive.” Sébastien turned back to face the fog. Above him, the small airship's envelope popped and creaked and strained against the rigging, the sound answered moment's later by the deep, shuddering moan of a derkomai that was drifting through the fog somewhere not too far away – sieving the air for dragonflies and moisture. Drinking in the white soup of the fog. He narrowed his eyes and stared out into it, as though he could part the smothering whiteness with nothing more than his willpower and temper. Élodie folded her hands over her heavily swollen stomach, and for a moment, the two of them stood side-by-side in silence. Finally, Sébastien sighed, turning to offer his apology when something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. Out on bow of the airship, a shadow pressed against the fog like a thin layer of charcoal over watercolour. Sébastien stiffened. The shadow didn't call out to him. Didn't move. It barely even seemed to breathe. He reached out almost instinctively and rested his hand over Élodie's fingers. The fall of the whip whispered against the deck. “Go and fetch the captain,” he said, his voice turning cold and hard as rended iron. “It's time. They're here.” |
Later he wondered how she could see past the somehow featureless faces, how Their thin lips and wide, expressionless eyes failed to worry her. What disturbed him most as they all sat, arranged the great long table was the way They ate, reaching out with too long fingers to grab at the food, drag it into unnaturally wide mouths. It always surprised him that They could even eat real food and didn’t just suck nourishment out of the air like the derkomai. Sébastien sat back in his chair with his fingers steepled in front of him, fighting a shudder of disgust as one of their ‘guests’ reached out for a kesma thigh and wrapped its pale lips around it, the flesh peeling back into its mouth. “So, friends...” The voice that spoke was strangely human although too high pitched, thin and reedy with a strange timbre to it, muffled by the churning meat in its mouth. Glancing sideways briefly at his sister, Sébastien sat forwards, pushing his plate with the remains of his meal away from him. He hadn’t felt much like eating, but a feast like this was drain enough on their resources without wasting it. Élodie looked back, expression unreadable. “We all know why we’re here.” it said, blank grey eyes boring into Sébastien. He fancied its grin widened further, showing pointed, yellow teeth. “Isslore.” Sébastien finished for it. The shadow started to laugh, a terrible, screeching sound that caught Sébastien deep at the base of his chest and make his flesh creep. “The crux of the matter.” It sat back, mirroring Sébastien’s posture in a way that unsettled him deeply although he refused to move, however uncomfortable it felt. At the head of the table, Captain Hailson slowly reached for his tanker, thick fingers closing around the pitted pewter, lifting it slowly to his mouth to take a sip. Sébastien couldn’t help but notice the way the droplets of mead caught in the steely grey bristles at the side of his mouth and sparkled in the soft glow of the gaslights. There was a deep, shuddering sigh as the ship turned against the wind suddenly and rolled sightly, the mead in the tankers slopping gently over the rims. For a minute, nobody spoke. |
| As the Jawkhayr pitched again in the sudden updraught, everyone at the table stumbled to steady themselves against it. Above deck, Captain Hailson's crew shouted back and forth to one another in Arabic. Sébastien was on his feet, and the whip was in his hand with a crack like breaking bone. And then the room grew very, very dark, and a viscous sort of silence settled across the deck above the cabin. Sébastien looked down at the people clinging to the table, and found them all staring somewhere just over his shoulder, their eyes growing wide and tremulous. Élodie stifled a small sound of warning at the back of her throat. Turning to face the windows of the captain's cabin, Sébastien found that in the place of the anaemic soup of the fog behind the glass, there was a single, massive eye. “Derkomai!” someone shouted on the deck above. The Jawkhayr rolled sharply away from the pale, cloudy eye against the glass as the crew tacked the sails against the wind and started up the ships diminutive engines. A moment later, and the whale beyond the window banked away into the fog. The airship shuddered, and the silence was replaced by the low complaint of the ship's emergency air turbines. Sébastien looked back towards the table. All eyes were on the Captain, on his hands braced against the tabletop, and on the dissected crescent-shaped tattoo under the torn shirtsleeve of his forearm. A sickening sort of cold flared in the pit of Sébastien's stomach. “He wears the mark of Isslore,” someone whispered. And then all hell broke loose. The shadow umbra began to scream and snarl, their forms distorting and their uncomfortably wide mouths opening like wounds over their jagged teeth. “A spy!” “You Château children have betrayed us!” Sébastien held out his palms in parley, but his jaw was set against the first embers of anger and his voice inviting no response. “I could well have said the same of you!” The captain had struggled to his feet and snatched up a bag from underneath the table. The braid of the whip stammered between Sébastien's gloved fingers and a growl struggled behind his teeth. “Stay where you are, wretch!” He could feel the gun in Captain Hailson's hand almost before he drew it – like an itch beneath the skin. He ducked in the second that the bullet left the barrel, pitching to one side and rolling with the bank of the airship until the momentum brought him back onto his feet. The retort from the pistol was followed by the shattering of glass, and suddenly everything and everyone inside was tugged towards the open sky. Sébastien turned his head from the splinters of glass and sudden rush of air, raising his hands to shield his face as the captain pulled the pack over his shoulders, and plunged out of shattered window into a blanket of unending whiteness. Sébastien did not have time to think. Élodie called out to him. I didn't matter. With three short and thunderous steps, Sebastian Château dived from the stern of the Jawkhayr, and was swallowed by the fog. |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
