losthellhound

In all my writing I feel I need the most work on desription, and conversation. SO.. I write alot of snatches of both. They arent really a part of anything larger, but they fit both bills. they are descriptive, and have conversation (just not alot of either).. SInce Im sitting here on midnight shift with little else to do, I wrote one.. Thought I'd share..

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The city of Tir’sa’lon spread out like a blanket across the valley, known for ages as the Vale of Stars. Kuaiji was struck for a moment by the city’s uniqueness. He was sure that over ten thousand called it home, but instead of encroaching on nature, nature encroached on it. The ancient oaks and poplars of the forest struck out everywhere; in city squares, through buildings, and the city grew around them.

Kuaiji drew a deep breath and closed his eyes in relaxation as an arrow struck the tree beside him. He chose not to turn, instead waited patiently.

“Your presence here is questionable human.” A female voice chimed in flawless Elven. Kuaiji had forgotten what a sweet song it was.
“I am expected child of the wind. And it is my humanity that is questionable, not my presence.” Kuaiji responded, turning slowly.

She was stunning, ethereal, and a poet’s vision of beauty, yet at the same time was obviously alien and dangerous. She was tall and slim with an athletic build. She wore a patchwork of leathers coloured purple and green festooned with beads and feathers. He wondered how he could not have heard her approach, then noticed how her bare feet barely bent the grass she stood on. Her face was what captured Kuaiji’s attention. It was angular and delicate, with catlike almond eyes framed by silvery white hair. In her hands she cradled a longbow but had not notched another arrow. Kuaiji knew however that she could have one notched, drawn, and loosed before a word left his lips. She seemed to study him a moment then responded.

“You are Il’Kator?” She asked. Kuaiji nodded silently.

“The council of elders said to expect you but for all the rumours, I thought you taller.”

Kuaiji thought for a moment he detected a hint of sarcasm, then dismissed it.

“I did not think rumours were an Elven trait.” He said.

She cocked her head in a disturbingly feline manner and walked past him towards the Vale.

“Nor is letting humans live after they have seen Tir’sa’lon, Il’Kator. Be thankful of these strange times.”

With that she continued down the slope, and Kuaiji was forced to a ran to catch up with her. It would be several hours till they reached the city, and he did not expect much in the way of conversation with his new found guide.

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"Life is possible only with illusions. And so, the question for the science of mental health must become an absolutely new and revolutionary one, yet one that reflects the essence of the human condition: On what level of illusion does one live?"
-- Ernest Becker, The Denial of Death