Posts Tagged WIP

Kaido no Yume XI

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This is the old, old, old bit of story I mentioned earlier. Kaido no Yume was a story I started about a decade ago but which never saw completion. I found this chapter—which is the next after what I’d written so far—in one of my old notebooks. I believe the only other chapter written so far is the ending, and I don’t know where that is. Forgive the writing; I’d number this among my juvenilia—besides the style, some of the facts contradict later continuity. Hopefully the second draft, whenever I get around to it, will fix everything up.


After their audience, Kohath and the tigers went out again through the long tunnels, which were no longer dark now but glowed with an eerie, reflective radiance.

When they came out again into the moonlight, Kohath saw it was not the walls that were lit, but that they themselves were glowing with a subtle radiance.

Nyaiya cried out, “Ai, wuafo, your fur shines with rainbows!”

Kohath looked over himself. Sure enough, his pale blue fur divided the light that shone through it, surrounding him with a spectral aura. Nyaiya insisted on keeping a piece of it. — “The light will fade from us, but we can preserve a little” — so he let her cut a few strands of fur from his arm with a sharp claw.

“Before we leave this place,” Maro said, “it is customary to sing. Will you honor us?”

Kohath looked up at the moon, enormous in the sky, and suddenly felt homesick again. Somewhere, terribly distant, his home on a moon much like that was empty. He found he had already begun singing:

“My paws ache for the earth of my homeland,
and to walk on the roads I once knew,
So much time I have spent from my homeland,
and the ones that I love.  Haru—”

The song had a slow beat, which the tigers found and clapped to.

“My nose thirsts for the smell of my homeland…”

The kits joined in, and Kohath realized the music was not being translated for them, as they sang nonsense happily with the tune, and the gusto with which they went for the ending howl. Nevertheless, he went on through the final verse—

“My tail waves for the friends of my homeland,
and my brave brothers, fallen but true,
I’ll remember the love of my homeland,
For as long as I’m traveling, haru—”

On the final howl, hundreds of fireflies rose from the forest beneath them. Maro gathered up the kino cloth, he and Nyaiya both kissed Kohath, and they all went down the hill and back home.

 

John and Murphy.

John the polar bear requested a pic for his birthday. He was sort of vacillating between his polar bear character in a naval uniform and his triceratops character Murphy, so I drew both of them for him.

I gave him the sketch at this year’s Furry Fiesta, along with the lineart of the last pic I did for him. Will work on coloring it eventually.

December 10, 2494.

An idea I had kicking around in my head for a while that I finally started work on at Sketch Night on Saturday. The plan is Isaac, Maxim, Huck, Modi, and Magni all around a campfire outside Dunamy Town on Huck and Maxim’s 18th birthday (old calendar).

Not too happy with the execution yet, though. I’m not sure the sketch conveys the general outline I was looking for, and I don’t like what’s up with Isaac’s head here.

WIP – Modi.

One I’ve been workin’ on for the past bit. This is Modi, Magni‘s brother.

Besides these generic profile pics I’ve also sort of started a real pic of some of the guys from Nother all together, and will probably start posting progress on that soon.

Scrap – Kohath.

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—First things first—to get away from the cold. I packed up stuff for the day—another sandwich, a book of Dickinson, my computer,—and took a bus to city center.

The bus was empty at this hour of morning; it was still city night.

I needed to be around people, though—the condition I was in, whatever it was, was no condition to be alone in.

Someone had set up a sort of pavilion in the park, and I headed towards it.

About half a dozen people were inside, mostly lunars, and they were frying up a lot of breakfast.

“What’s the occasion?” I said, walking up. A few that hadn’t seen me approaching looked up, and the tallest waved me over.

“We’re gaṇakas. Have you heard of us? We’re semi-secret.”

Fisting II

NSFW (M/M, fisting) below cut… »

Desc – Periont

One of my projects is to have comprehensive references to each of my characters — body-wise, personality-wise, history-wise, and so forth. Here’s the scrap I have so far on our traveller Periont.


Body—
His adult height is about five foot seven, ears excluded. He is of a moderate build, slightly tending towards lean and muscular, and weighs in at about one hundred sixty pounds, tail excluded.

Age—
Periont around the time of his story is a νεανίσκος somewhere in his lower- to mid-twenties. This is apparent from looking at him—his features are mature enough that he is certainly no longer a teenager, and while the salt-and-pepper fur he has in places might give an initial impression of aging, he is otherwise youthful enough that he couldn’t pass for over thirty.

First day on the moon.

More ancient scraps. Most of the notebook I’ve been copying stuff out of is undated, but a poem on the ending page of this that I posted to LiveJournal around the time I wrote it gives this a terminus ante quem of September 29, 2005.


1 Aug
The trip to the moon was short and uneventful. I knew it would be—it’s just a routine shuttle, after all. Still, I was hoping for something special for my first time off the planet.

A circle of lunar humans off the ’port staff waited to greet us as we came out the gate. Most of them wielded video recorders in case any of the terrestrials wanted to say anything stupid. Souvenir discs of My First Words on the Moon go for €10.50. Nobody wanted to announce any giant leaps for Podunk today—all the other passengers were either lunars coming home or tired businessmen who’ve probably done the trip a thousand times. Me, of course, you’d never find doing anything so touristy.

The welcome committee soon dispersed after seeing no one really cared about being welcomed. I passed through the crowds and bound up the stairs to baggage claim. My muscles were used to hefting around a body six times heavier than I now weighed. I figured I’d better enjoy it while I could—I knew I’d be paying for it trying to lug around my pudge when I went home for the summer.

I got my bags and found my way outside. The dome above was darkened, indicating the fiction that was the lunar city’s night.

Right. I pulled my computer out of my pocket, uncrumpled it, and called up local time. Quarter to ten… fifteen minutes until there wouldn’t be anybody at the college to let me in. I pulled up gmaps and a compass and got directed to a bus line that went straight there.

The bus was empty. I stood and watched the city go by. Unlike the inside of the bus,… the city for the most part seemed clean and new.


I reached the university gates just a few minutes before closing. The gate guard pointed me to the dormitory, and I rushed to get in just before the doors locked.

Blake.

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He tried to wave a waiter over, with no luck.

“Ah well,” he said, “Gives me some time to dry off. Have I ever shown you my sister’s music?”

“You have a sister?”

“Yeah, she’s beautiful, her name’s Island.” He reached in his pockets. “I have a clip of her singing, one moment…” He pulled out a phone, which was kind of damp-looking, but he still managed to get it turned on.

The hologram he pulled up was indeed of a beautiful red kangaroo, dressed in gray and black and white, standing in front of a microphone. A few puffs of smoke came up around her as she began to sing:

“When Jesus wept, the falling tear
in mercy flowed beyond all bound;
when Jesus groaned, a trembling fear
shook all the guilty world around—”

The smoke was joined by a spurt of blue sparks, and the phone went dead.

Blake shut his eyes.

“That was amazing,” said a human at a table next to us. “I didn’t catch it in time, though—who is she? I’d love to download her.”

“Her name’s Darker Island,” Blake said. “But you won’t find her, she’s L & L. You’d have to go to Blantyre.”

“A Luddite, eh? I don’t even know where Blantyre is.”

Blake didn’t answer. He picked up the phone and gave it a couple of smacks. It didn’t respond.

“L & L?” I said. “That’s awesome.” The Live and Local movement avoided globalization and the Net, creating their own microcultures instead. “She must be really close with you, to have let you make a recording.”

“Yeah,” he said. “She was.”

Scrap – Silk Rail

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So as to avoid suspicion, I stayed the night at an inn, instead of fleeing immediately. I got up at dawn, paid my bill, and rode out of town before the alarm was raised. I figured they’d be holding up any ships from going downriver, so I headed for Sepouri to take a ship back to Karkedon.

I hoped to make it before anyone thought of closing the port—but I didn’t rush, because nothing makes people ask questions like seeing a wolf in a hurry.

I made it to the harbor some time after noon.