Original Work: Galatea
Title: Galatea
Author: woodra
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Mine, all mine.
Author Notes: I love ink drawings.
A tall city made of white marble and ivory stood before us. A city of marble and ivory - made of glass and silver, surrounded by serenity of seaside and hanging cliffs. In the hazy distance towered a rusty lighthouse.
"Sparkles," Dickie said, to which I shrugged non-committally. Dickie was annoyance incarnate - a bag of irritating gaiety and flippancy. An ambiguous creature, never sure whether he was a boy or a girl.
"Rather glows with ancient dignity," I then added, throwing a condescending smirk Dickie's way. He smirked back and, with a toss of his golden hair to the back, he ran forward. If there were a six-shooter with me, I would have put it to good use. Ah the dreams of childhood. Hands in pockets I went after him, noting the changes of scenery around us. There walked a city girl to the right from me, hair albino white, her dress a screaming red. A heavy woolen rucksack was behind her fragile shoulders and I wished I could help her. Too far away, too big a distance, I thought walking on, shaking my head.
Dickie - Dickie never was left behind. She could never be. Too vulnerable and trusting, too innocently corrupted, those sparkles, her sparkles sparkled everywhere. That smile of hers, I doubt I would ever forget it, even if I managed leaving her behind someday. She always went ahead, rushing toward something, giving hasty and prejudiced assessments to everything we saw on our way. Dickie was always there. I have already stopped wondering when was it that we met and became inseparable. Annoyingly inseparable, but I could never leave her behind. Too vulnerable and trusting, Dickie was.
To the left from me was the vast seaside, coming back and forth into the view as I mounted one hill after another. It was its amber flicker that kept me walking onward without one stop or one thought of resignation. The hills that steadily transformed into cliffs in the distance were too high above the sea. What was I to do but keep on walking? I once heard of the city that had an emerald pier incrusted with zirconium sprinkles, all fastened together with strings of silver, arching above the amber glimmer into faraway lands on the other side of the world. It stood now before me, proud in its alien beauty, its walls heaving imperceptibly with wisdom so poignant it was in the air. On the flagstaff of its highest tower flew the golden flag crossed with hues of red and dark green. It fluttered merrily in the wind, welcoming us, and I smiled in return, promising to be there soon.
"Shooter," Dickie said, turning around and spreading his arms. An Azrael, only stripped of wings and brains. I stopped to admire Dickie's slender beauty. The body frame, deliciously androgynous, hidden beneath the flowy and baggy clothing - giving me only glimpses of what was beneath when it breezed. It was beyond me what he was referring to, but it wasn't the first time that he had muttered something out of the blue, confusing me, before walking onward just as gaily as before, as if nothing had happened. Dickie, Dickie, Dickie, the little brainless beauty that you are, I thought walking after him, always after. I do not think Dickie had any idea what he was looking for in the marble city.
I loved the sky in those lands. Deep blue that flowed into light purple as the sunlight reflected against the ragged clouds. Trees were left far behind; I would hate going back into them - too dark and claustrophobic. The rustling of nielloed silver leaves was mesmerizing but that strange glowing of tree trunks was too predatory for me to stay longer in the Forests than it was necessary. I did not like seeing Dickie subdued either.
The sun was nearing the summit and I could already feel beads of sweat forming in my locks. I wondered how much longer we would have to walk until we reach the tall city. Seemed like eternity, but pessimism never suited me. "Dickie, why do you always have to run from me?" I yelled, before stopping for a moment in my gait, surprised at how hoarse and needy my voice sounded. Dickie stopped and looked at me questioningly, a joyous smile frozen on those lush lips halfway through. "On second thought, go on, I'm better off like that," I said, voice back to the usual coldness and disdain. Better, Dickie? Of course, why else would you carry your joyous smile to its exalting apogee and go back to laughing frivolously, the light breeze caressing your shining hair as you run? I shrugged and walked onward, eyes cast downward, noticing the subtle changes in the soil. Here and there appeared grey stones, growing larger in grounds lying ahead of us. We were soon to reach the city of white marble and ivory, and I distinctly heard the heavier thumps of my heart.
"A masterful brush," the raven-haired man with an ebony pipe said, fingers running over the rough canvas in subdued reverence. "Bewitching indeed," the museum director said, a shadow of a smile hidden beneath his handlebar moustache. It was well into night when the two finished discussing works of one Sedenta Stars and with happy smiles went to sleep.
The artistic exploits of Sedenta Stars can be accessed through her website exploding stars, where for a reasonable price you can also acquire her newest omnibus of enchanting poetry.
Author: woodra
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Mine, all mine.
Author Notes: I love ink drawings.
A tall city made of white marble and ivory stood before us. A city of marble and ivory - made of glass and silver, surrounded by serenity of seaside and hanging cliffs. In the hazy distance towered a rusty lighthouse.
"Sparkles," Dickie said, to which I shrugged non-committally. Dickie was annoyance incarnate - a bag of irritating gaiety and flippancy. An ambiguous creature, never sure whether he was a boy or a girl.
"Rather glows with ancient dignity," I then added, throwing a condescending smirk Dickie's way. He smirked back and, with a toss of his golden hair to the back, he ran forward. If there were a six-shooter with me, I would have put it to good use. Ah the dreams of childhood. Hands in pockets I went after him, noting the changes of scenery around us. There walked a city girl to the right from me, hair albino white, her dress a screaming red. A heavy woolen rucksack was behind her fragile shoulders and I wished I could help her. Too far away, too big a distance, I thought walking on, shaking my head.
Dickie - Dickie never was left behind. She could never be. Too vulnerable and trusting, too innocently corrupted, those sparkles, her sparkles sparkled everywhere. That smile of hers, I doubt I would ever forget it, even if I managed leaving her behind someday. She always went ahead, rushing toward something, giving hasty and prejudiced assessments to everything we saw on our way. Dickie was always there. I have already stopped wondering when was it that we met and became inseparable. Annoyingly inseparable, but I could never leave her behind. Too vulnerable and trusting, Dickie was.
To the left from me was the vast seaside, coming back and forth into the view as I mounted one hill after another. It was its amber flicker that kept me walking onward without one stop or one thought of resignation. The hills that steadily transformed into cliffs in the distance were too high above the sea. What was I to do but keep on walking? I once heard of the city that had an emerald pier incrusted with zirconium sprinkles, all fastened together with strings of silver, arching above the amber glimmer into faraway lands on the other side of the world. It stood now before me, proud in its alien beauty, its walls heaving imperceptibly with wisdom so poignant it was in the air. On the flagstaff of its highest tower flew the golden flag crossed with hues of red and dark green. It fluttered merrily in the wind, welcoming us, and I smiled in return, promising to be there soon.
"Shooter," Dickie said, turning around and spreading his arms. An Azrael, only stripped of wings and brains. I stopped to admire Dickie's slender beauty. The body frame, deliciously androgynous, hidden beneath the flowy and baggy clothing - giving me only glimpses of what was beneath when it breezed. It was beyond me what he was referring to, but it wasn't the first time that he had muttered something out of the blue, confusing me, before walking onward just as gaily as before, as if nothing had happened. Dickie, Dickie, Dickie, the little brainless beauty that you are, I thought walking after him, always after. I do not think Dickie had any idea what he was looking for in the marble city.
I loved the sky in those lands. Deep blue that flowed into light purple as the sunlight reflected against the ragged clouds. Trees were left far behind; I would hate going back into them - too dark and claustrophobic. The rustling of nielloed silver leaves was mesmerizing but that strange glowing of tree trunks was too predatory for me to stay longer in the Forests than it was necessary. I did not like seeing Dickie subdued either.
The sun was nearing the summit and I could already feel beads of sweat forming in my locks. I wondered how much longer we would have to walk until we reach the tall city. Seemed like eternity, but pessimism never suited me. "Dickie, why do you always have to run from me?" I yelled, before stopping for a moment in my gait, surprised at how hoarse and needy my voice sounded. Dickie stopped and looked at me questioningly, a joyous smile frozen on those lush lips halfway through. "On second thought, go on, I'm better off like that," I said, voice back to the usual coldness and disdain. Better, Dickie? Of course, why else would you carry your joyous smile to its exalting apogee and go back to laughing frivolously, the light breeze caressing your shining hair as you run? I shrugged and walked onward, eyes cast downward, noticing the subtle changes in the soil. Here and there appeared grey stones, growing larger in grounds lying ahead of us. We were soon to reach the city of white marble and ivory, and I distinctly heard the heavier thumps of my heart.
"A masterful brush," the raven-haired man with an ebony pipe said, fingers running over the rough canvas in subdued reverence. "Bewitching indeed," the museum director said, a shadow of a smile hidden beneath his handlebar moustache. It was well into night when the two finished discussing works of one Sedenta Stars and with happy smiles went to sleep.
The artistic exploits of Sedenta Stars can be accessed through her website exploding stars, where for a reasonable price you can also acquire her newest omnibus of enchanting poetry.