04-18-2015, 11:22 PM
so you wanna play with magic?
Sometimes, she wishes she had made him a little bit less…well, a little bit less canine.
Gumby is dancing around her as though she's got a treat and is keeping it from him. She really isn't – she has nothing to give him, nothing for him, no stick, no treat, nothing. She's not even sure what he would consider a treat – she really doesn't remember specifying what he eats – but she's quite sure she doesn't have it. Which leaves her to wonder why he's so intent.
She stands in the Desert, near enough to the oasis that she's got grass under her feet. She doesn't mind the sand, she's come to quite enjoy the radiant heat that comes from it, but sometimes she enjoys the cool of the oasis. There is something to be said for grass, even the small patches of it that they have here.
Gumby finally loses interest in her, but instead decides to begin racing back and forth between her and the water and barking his head off. If she weren't confident in her magic, she'd doubt that she had in fact created a guardian. God knows, to look at the way this thing behaves you wouldn't think it could possibly do any kind of damage. You'd expect Gumby to bark fiercely at invaders, and then be rolling on his back begging them (silently) to pet him within about two seconds flat. He sure looks like one of those dogs who barks fiercely, but in fact loves everyone. Only she knows that that's false – she wove him from scratch, creating the bronze in her mind, giving him life. He is because she made him, and she made him according to her image. If it becomes necessary, he will fight, and she knows how powerful a weapon he will be.
And she knows he will be needed. The future is still unfolding, but she can see it as it shifts, catching glimpses of it from moment to moment. To try to nail it down can be dangerous, she knows this; there are so many factors that the future is like a tangent to the curve, spinning off in different directions as the present changes course. The universe always knows – the line is always calculated – but to try to follow it could bring anyone to madness.
She knows that Beqanna will fall into chaos. It is so close already; the things that are happening in the Tundra at that very moment, the things that the Amazons have attempted, the ways that the Valley is responding, even the way that the Deserts might respond all point to the same inevitable truth. And besides, is that not the nature of things? Is it not only right for Beqanna to bring itself together only to fall apart?
Perhaps they'll be the last bastion of the world, the lonely Deserts, a beacon against the chaos, protected only by a slobbering bronze dog-cat-sphinx.
Speaking of Gumby, he's stopped barking because he's found a stick. The image of his humanoid head holding a stick might be a little strange, but he manages it somehow. Dropping the stick at Camrynn's feet, he lowers onto his front paws, butt in the air, wagging his lion-tail and barking sharply. Clearly, he wants to play fetch.
Without moving, Camrynn telekinetically picks the stick up and flings it far into the distance. Gumby chases after it with tremendous exuberance, and she notes with appreciation that he's every bit as fast as she wanted him to be. Except, of course, that his speed also means he'll be able to retrieve the stick.
And it means that within a matter of moments he comes trotting back into view, stick proudly hanging from his mouth, and deposits it right back at her feet, begging her to throw it again.
Gumby is dancing around her as though she's got a treat and is keeping it from him. She really isn't – she has nothing to give him, nothing for him, no stick, no treat, nothing. She's not even sure what he would consider a treat – she really doesn't remember specifying what he eats – but she's quite sure she doesn't have it. Which leaves her to wonder why he's so intent.
She stands in the Desert, near enough to the oasis that she's got grass under her feet. She doesn't mind the sand, she's come to quite enjoy the radiant heat that comes from it, but sometimes she enjoys the cool of the oasis. There is something to be said for grass, even the small patches of it that they have here.
Gumby finally loses interest in her, but instead decides to begin racing back and forth between her and the water and barking his head off. If she weren't confident in her magic, she'd doubt that she had in fact created a guardian. God knows, to look at the way this thing behaves you wouldn't think it could possibly do any kind of damage. You'd expect Gumby to bark fiercely at invaders, and then be rolling on his back begging them (silently) to pet him within about two seconds flat. He sure looks like one of those dogs who barks fiercely, but in fact loves everyone. Only she knows that that's false – she wove him from scratch, creating the bronze in her mind, giving him life. He is because she made him, and she made him according to her image. If it becomes necessary, he will fight, and she knows how powerful a weapon he will be.
And she knows he will be needed. The future is still unfolding, but she can see it as it shifts, catching glimpses of it from moment to moment. To try to nail it down can be dangerous, she knows this; there are so many factors that the future is like a tangent to the curve, spinning off in different directions as the present changes course. The universe always knows – the line is always calculated – but to try to follow it could bring anyone to madness.
She knows that Beqanna will fall into chaos. It is so close already; the things that are happening in the Tundra at that very moment, the things that the Amazons have attempted, the ways that the Valley is responding, even the way that the Deserts might respond all point to the same inevitable truth. And besides, is that not the nature of things? Is it not only right for Beqanna to bring itself together only to fall apart?
Perhaps they'll be the last bastion of the world, the lonely Deserts, a beacon against the chaos, protected only by a slobbering bronze dog-cat-sphinx.
Speaking of Gumby, he's stopped barking because he's found a stick. The image of his humanoid head holding a stick might be a little strange, but he manages it somehow. Dropping the stick at Camrynn's feet, he lowers onto his front paws, butt in the air, wagging his lion-tail and barking sharply. Clearly, he wants to play fetch.
Without moving, Camrynn telekinetically picks the stick up and flings it far into the distance. Gumby chases after it with tremendous exuberance, and she notes with appreciation that he's every bit as fast as she wanted him to be. Except, of course, that his speed also means he'll be able to retrieve the stick.
And it means that within a matter of moments he comes trotting back into view, stick proudly hanging from his mouth, and deposits it right back at her feet, begging her to throw it again.
CAMRYNN
co-queen of the deserts, magical, mother of badassery