06-19-2015, 01:07 PM
She’s playing with her twin, racing along the ice-rimmed beaches in the Tundra. Ollie is usually faster, just a smidgen taller already, but the girl is more determined than he is, stretching to her full potential; one stride ahead, then two. She tosses her head to laugh – and then she is not there.
When she becomes aware again, the girl panics. It’s dark and suffocating, and it’s too warm. The Tundra is cold, and this place is not cold. Her legs touch things – she doesn’t know what – but after a moment of scrambling she finds her feet, standing on something hard (like ice) but not ice. “Ollie, where,” she turns her head to look for her twin and he’s not there, and the panic resurfaces, stronger this time, a tide washing over her head. She’s never been apart from him – not ever. “OLLIE!” she yells, spinning around to face movement on her other side.
Her hooves don’t quite find the purchase she is expecting, and she almost falls to the ground. Confused, Dagny glances down at herself and gasps – even in the very dim light that her eyes are gradually becoming accustomed to, she can tell that she’s no longer red splashed with white. Her body is a darker color, fading to light blue, and she can see from the corner of her eye that her mane and tail are streaked in some light color – yellow, maybe?
There is a noise – a growl? And the girl backs up until she can feel the walls on two sides of her; quickly she touches her nose to the walls and the floor and decides they’re wood. Like trees. The growl comes again and she turns, looking into the dimness. “H-hello?” A creak in the wood, and it comes close enough for her to see it. It’s feline, but not like anything she’s seen in real life. A bright orange, striped black, and it moves with a grace the girl-child related to her father when he’s angry. Predatory, but in a way that is more natural on the feline than on her equine father. “What are you?” it asks, eyes narrowed but bright. “I’m – uh – I’m Dagny,” she stutters, unsure. “I don’t think I’m supposed to be here.” It considers this – head tilted, tail lashing. “We were not awake before you.”
We. She thinks. It said we. Most of the shadows are still, unmoving, but she thinks that some move. “Come out.” she demands. “Only monsters hide in the shadows.” Ah, the innocence of children. She doesn’t know that some monsters are perfectly content in the daylight. “Well we couldn’t have that.” The tigress’s voice is amused, and she tilts her head, beckoning the others. Dagny stares are them – fascinated. They are not like her – she is whole and bright, if in a strange new body. They’re chipped and broken, and even in forms unfamiliar to her she can see that they are not whole. Scarred – like dad. “Are you warriors?” she frowns at them, puzzling through these new things.
“No.” The tigress growls, the others shake their heads or tremble. “There’s a monster, outside the cage. During the day, it takes some of us out. For torture.” The girl trembles, looking from one face to the next. Two are pale and cream-ish, walking on two legs with funny legs they don’t walk on and hair only on their heads. One looks sort of like a lizard, but also walking on two legs, with front legs that look rather useless. The last is a deep color, purple maybe, and has what Dagny considers an unreasonable number of legs. “W-why don’t you escape?” She swallows her own fear and raises her head, deciding that she certainly isn’t staying here to get tortured. “I need to get home. How do you get out?”
They look at each other, blankly, and the child fidgets, impatient. “The roof opens.” One of the pale things says finally, waving a foreleg above her head. “But we can’t reach it.” the other pale thing chimes in, and the tigress rumbles in agreement.
Dagny looks into the darkness and shivers, afraid. But she thinks about Ollie, and how bright he is even in the darkness; and her papa, who is probably worried (like he does even when they wander for a little while). She has to be brave, for them. “Well we can climb,” she says cheerfully, and starts to try to clamber over something squishy and somewhat soft – like moss? – the others climbing beside her. But then it moves, rumbling, and leaps up, throwing her to the ground and flailing, growling incoherently. The thing with too many legs leaps between them, lashing out, and drives the furry thing away, into the shadows. “You are what wakes them up.” it says in a voice that is very deep, but somehow not scary. There is a murmur of agreement from the lizard, and the pale things, and the tigress, all of whom are safe on their unmoving mountains. They’re talking – something she doesn’t understand – and finally the girl pale thing says, “Ken has a point. What about blocks? We can’t wake up blocks.” He nods, leaping down to the floor again. “We’ll go find the blocks, stack them up.”
Dagny is uncertain – (what is a block?) but the others nod in agreement and start to wander away, into the piles. “Stay,” the tigress says, unnecessarily, and vanishes with them, tip of her tail last. It’s quiet, except for the occasional rumble and shuffle of moving things. They mask the creeping noises, and she is taken by surprise when it leaps out again, all growling and huge furry limbs. Much bigger than she is. The girl squeaks in surprise and leaps backwards, away from the unanimated toys, but it lumbers after. Clearly, unlike the others, this one is displeased with being awoken. The girl dodges one swipe, finally used to her unwieldy legs, and ducks under him, making him crash headfirst into the wall. The teddy bear stands, roaring its displeasure, and leaps at her again, catching a leg this time and making her tumble head-over-heels against the wall. Scrambling to her feet, she grasps a chuck of fur in her mouth and pulls fiercely, tucked in behind him where he can’t quite reach.
“Hey! There is the sound of falling items, clunking against the floor, and her new friends all rush to her aid, driving the creature back into the shadows. “Thanks.” She smiles at them, breathing shakily, and looks at the things they’ve brought. All hard, no faces, with sharp corners. “Blocks,” supplies the lizard helpfully as she investigates, and then they begin to push and shove and stack. Nervously at first she helps, but quickly they are proven right – the blocks might rumble a bit when touched, a soft vibration, but there is nothing there to animate, and they stay helpfully unmoving. Finally there is a path, like the cliff faces at home in the Tundra, climbing up into the darkness. The purple octopus climbs first, braver than they are, and they are rewarded by a creaking sound and the sliver of light at the top. “Let’s go!” Dagny exclaims, and they rush to the top – and freedom.
When she becomes aware again, the girl panics. It’s dark and suffocating, and it’s too warm. The Tundra is cold, and this place is not cold. Her legs touch things – she doesn’t know what – but after a moment of scrambling she finds her feet, standing on something hard (like ice) but not ice. “Ollie, where,” she turns her head to look for her twin and he’s not there, and the panic resurfaces, stronger this time, a tide washing over her head. She’s never been apart from him – not ever. “OLLIE!” she yells, spinning around to face movement on her other side.
Her hooves don’t quite find the purchase she is expecting, and she almost falls to the ground. Confused, Dagny glances down at herself and gasps – even in the very dim light that her eyes are gradually becoming accustomed to, she can tell that she’s no longer red splashed with white. Her body is a darker color, fading to light blue, and she can see from the corner of her eye that her mane and tail are streaked in some light color – yellow, maybe?
There is a noise – a growl? And the girl backs up until she can feel the walls on two sides of her; quickly she touches her nose to the walls and the floor and decides they’re wood. Like trees. The growl comes again and she turns, looking into the dimness. “H-hello?” A creak in the wood, and it comes close enough for her to see it. It’s feline, but not like anything she’s seen in real life. A bright orange, striped black, and it moves with a grace the girl-child related to her father when he’s angry. Predatory, but in a way that is more natural on the feline than on her equine father. “What are you?” it asks, eyes narrowed but bright. “I’m – uh – I’m Dagny,” she stutters, unsure. “I don’t think I’m supposed to be here.” It considers this – head tilted, tail lashing. “We were not awake before you.”
We. She thinks. It said we. Most of the shadows are still, unmoving, but she thinks that some move. “Come out.” she demands. “Only monsters hide in the shadows.” Ah, the innocence of children. She doesn’t know that some monsters are perfectly content in the daylight. “Well we couldn’t have that.” The tigress’s voice is amused, and she tilts her head, beckoning the others. Dagny stares are them – fascinated. They are not like her – she is whole and bright, if in a strange new body. They’re chipped and broken, and even in forms unfamiliar to her she can see that they are not whole. Scarred – like dad. “Are you warriors?” she frowns at them, puzzling through these new things.
“No.” The tigress growls, the others shake their heads or tremble. “There’s a monster, outside the cage. During the day, it takes some of us out. For torture.” The girl trembles, looking from one face to the next. Two are pale and cream-ish, walking on two legs with funny legs they don’t walk on and hair only on their heads. One looks sort of like a lizard, but also walking on two legs, with front legs that look rather useless. The last is a deep color, purple maybe, and has what Dagny considers an unreasonable number of legs. “W-why don’t you escape?” She swallows her own fear and raises her head, deciding that she certainly isn’t staying here to get tortured. “I need to get home. How do you get out?”
They look at each other, blankly, and the child fidgets, impatient. “The roof opens.” One of the pale things says finally, waving a foreleg above her head. “But we can’t reach it.” the other pale thing chimes in, and the tigress rumbles in agreement.
Dagny looks into the darkness and shivers, afraid. But she thinks about Ollie, and how bright he is even in the darkness; and her papa, who is probably worried (like he does even when they wander for a little while). She has to be brave, for them. “Well we can climb,” she says cheerfully, and starts to try to clamber over something squishy and somewhat soft – like moss? – the others climbing beside her. But then it moves, rumbling, and leaps up, throwing her to the ground and flailing, growling incoherently. The thing with too many legs leaps between them, lashing out, and drives the furry thing away, into the shadows. “You are what wakes them up.” it says in a voice that is very deep, but somehow not scary. There is a murmur of agreement from the lizard, and the pale things, and the tigress, all of whom are safe on their unmoving mountains. They’re talking – something she doesn’t understand – and finally the girl pale thing says, “Ken has a point. What about blocks? We can’t wake up blocks.” He nods, leaping down to the floor again. “We’ll go find the blocks, stack them up.”
Dagny is uncertain – (what is a block?) but the others nod in agreement and start to wander away, into the piles. “Stay,” the tigress says, unnecessarily, and vanishes with them, tip of her tail last. It’s quiet, except for the occasional rumble and shuffle of moving things. They mask the creeping noises, and she is taken by surprise when it leaps out again, all growling and huge furry limbs. Much bigger than she is. The girl squeaks in surprise and leaps backwards, away from the unanimated toys, but it lumbers after. Clearly, unlike the others, this one is displeased with being awoken. The girl dodges one swipe, finally used to her unwieldy legs, and ducks under him, making him crash headfirst into the wall. The teddy bear stands, roaring its displeasure, and leaps at her again, catching a leg this time and making her tumble head-over-heels against the wall. Scrambling to her feet, she grasps a chuck of fur in her mouth and pulls fiercely, tucked in behind him where he can’t quite reach.
“Hey! There is the sound of falling items, clunking against the floor, and her new friends all rush to her aid, driving the creature back into the shadows. “Thanks.” She smiles at them, breathing shakily, and looks at the things they’ve brought. All hard, no faces, with sharp corners. “Blocks,” supplies the lizard helpfully as she investigates, and then they begin to push and shove and stack. Nervously at first she helps, but quickly they are proven right – the blocks might rumble a bit when touched, a soft vibration, but there is nothing there to animate, and they stay helpfully unmoving. Finally there is a path, like the cliff faces at home in the Tundra, climbing up into the darkness. The purple octopus climbs first, braver than they are, and they are rewarded by a creaking sound and the sliver of light at the top. “Let’s go!” Dagny exclaims, and they rush to the top – and freedom.