Once Upon A Time...

Space and other Dimensions, whether within the realm of the mind or other, less-savory regions.

Once Upon A Time...

Postby The Book of Sins » Mon Aug 07, 2017 11:03 pm

The Dwarf who's gone by so many names he can barely remember them all finds himself ruminating. He hadn't planned on visiting Isolde. Her presence here was a mild surprise, but not any more than the two Fey. Things have a tendency to line themselves up like that in places of power. Of course mocking the woman had it's own appeal and the look on her face had been priceless, but maybe he was just nostalgic about a simpler time when stories and myths carried more power, when people cowered in fear of the unknown and every shadow was being filled with beings of dread. When no one questioned the costs of a helping hand that spins straw to gold. Oh they grouched and they pleaded but no one ever thought to ask what possible use the Dark Gnome would have for a first-born child. Why witches cursed women to be barren. What happened to the babe swapped for a changeling. They just told the stories and with the stories they imbued these things with power, with meaning. Somebody like Isolde couldn't possible imagine what power she traded away in a desperate moment...

The diminutive figure, wearing a black frock adorned with dark-red embroidery snickers to himself as he takes out a purple pouch made of velvet and spreads it open on his outstretched palm. Inside a small light dances with a glow so inexplicable that not long from now a man will try to capture it's essence in a painting on the ceiling of a church. A force so powerful that a pale shadow drawn by a genius will last through the ages as a masterpiece. Life. The power of creation that was once stripped from his Master that no spell could recreate. He lifts the spark dancing on the fabric of the pouch, careful not to touch it as he sits perched on the open window-sill of a lone farmhouse near the Black Forest. Some of the glimmer rides an unseen wind into the bed-chamber as darkness weaves itself between the sparks.

Years later he would return to find twins born to the farmers. Any good Magus knows a spell needs a good foundation and this'll be it. They'll get the details wrong. Add a happy ending. And a witch. All good stories need a witch in these times it seems. But the only thing that matters right now is the father leading his blindfolded children into the forest, axe weighing heavy on his shoulder. For a long time the world is silent until deep in the woods a flock of birds cries out and bursts into the air like a dark cloud. It's better this way. They couldn't have kept the children fed through the winter. In this story it's not the Dwarf who is rend in twain.

And so a line is drawn in blood and etched upon the world. Many more will follow in the years to come...
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