Botober 2: Shadow Puppets
Oct. 2nd, 2020 10:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alfvaenDidn't think I was going to actually manage it, but hey, here it is. More of a fragment than a whole story, but those are fun too. As long as you don't expect it to ever turn into anything longer. Used to do these all the time in four-word story days.
So the October 2nd prompts from Botober are:
Jeriel made her way carefully through the darkness. Her feet sank into the spongy ground with every step. Most of the landmass of Verne was made up of layer after layer of moss, some of which obtained energy from the creatures that walked over it, as well as from the frequent meteor impacts. The planet's long nights meant that much of the vegetable life needed alternate sources of energy.
She froze as she heard snuffling from nearby. The major predator on Verne was the Angris, which had long, curly wool but were adept at chasing down their prey on the mossy surface. That was one reason why she was trying this in total darkness. The map piped directly into her optic-nerve showed her the nearby landmarks. As long as she didn't run into an Angris that wasn't on her map…
Finally she passed by a fern tree on her right, and neared the tent. It was marked only with the name "Demonax". She'd sworn never to do something like this, but now here she was. She'd exhausted all her better options.
The tent was also darkened, but she trailed her fingers around the surface until she found the opening. Once inside she heard the stertorous breathing of a single inhabitant, underneath which was the distinctive sound of a white-noise generator.
"Hello, my child," said a hoarse voice of indeterminate gender. "You have come for knowledge."
"Yeah, of course," Jeriel said. "Why else would I be here?" Because she'd run out of any actual sources of information and now had to turn to mystics living on remote planets.
"Then sit down, open your eyes, and tell me what you see."
Jeriel felt her way over to something that felt like a pile of logs and sat down gingerly upon them. She opened her eyes obediently wide, deactivating the map so she wouldn't be confused by its overlay, and waited for its weird not-afterimages to dissipate. "Okay, I'm ready," she said, opening her eyes as wide as she could. She half expected Demonax, or whoever it was, to start waving around a light-wand or something, or shine a pinpoint laser on the walls, or something. Instead, she heard faint rustlings of cloth, rattlings of wood against wood.
"Do you see, child?" Demonax whispered.
"I don't—" Jeriel began…and then she did see…something. Maybe it was just random neurons firing, understimulated optic cells sending noise to her gullible optic nerve. But no, she knew what that looked like. This was…
That shadowy face was…was that Eisenburg's profile? Before she could decide, it was gone, replaced by a familiar-looking nebula. She was sure she'd seen that before in some star-chart or other. Then a twinkling pattern of stars. Belatedly, she started saving images to her implant, half expecting that later she would find them all blank. But no matter how they were getting into her visual cortex, she could store them once they were there. She'd saved an entire dream once by accident—that had been scary. This…well, this was also scary.
She flinched at the final series of images, random bursts of light that coalesced into a pitched space battle, not as seen from the bridge of a starship, but as one might see it while floating in space: no missiles or lasers visible until they hit their targets, explosions quickly damped as oxygen fled. But nevertheless so dense that the number of ships involved must be…more than she could even conceive.
After that image, all dimmed to darkness again. She thought it was over…and then she saw one final image. The Borer. Her breath caught. Would she find it at last?
The clicking and rustling faded. "Have you seen, child?" Demonax said.
"Yes, I—" Jeriel faltered. "I saw something," she said, trying to play it cool. "Not sure if it means anything. Or if it's any good."
"So many deaths," Demonax whispered. "Are you sure it's worth it, child?"
How could she— Then Jeriel straightened her spine. "Yes. It will be. It will have to be."
"Mmm," Demonax said. Then, "You can sleep if you want. In a few hours it will be dawn and then I can light the fire. And then we can go."
"We?"
So the October 2nd prompts from Botober are:
- Things: Angrisheep
- Concepts: sponge planets
- Advanced: Shadow puppetry, performed in total darkness
- Terrible: A pile of logs.
Jeriel made her way carefully through the darkness. Her feet sank into the spongy ground with every step. Most of the landmass of Verne was made up of layer after layer of moss, some of which obtained energy from the creatures that walked over it, as well as from the frequent meteor impacts. The planet's long nights meant that much of the vegetable life needed alternate sources of energy.
She froze as she heard snuffling from nearby. The major predator on Verne was the Angris, which had long, curly wool but were adept at chasing down their prey on the mossy surface. That was one reason why she was trying this in total darkness. The map piped directly into her optic-nerve showed her the nearby landmarks. As long as she didn't run into an Angris that wasn't on her map…
Finally she passed by a fern tree on her right, and neared the tent. It was marked only with the name "Demonax". She'd sworn never to do something like this, but now here she was. She'd exhausted all her better options.
The tent was also darkened, but she trailed her fingers around the surface until she found the opening. Once inside she heard the stertorous breathing of a single inhabitant, underneath which was the distinctive sound of a white-noise generator.
"Hello, my child," said a hoarse voice of indeterminate gender. "You have come for knowledge."
"Yeah, of course," Jeriel said. "Why else would I be here?" Because she'd run out of any actual sources of information and now had to turn to mystics living on remote planets.
"Then sit down, open your eyes, and tell me what you see."
Jeriel felt her way over to something that felt like a pile of logs and sat down gingerly upon them. She opened her eyes obediently wide, deactivating the map so she wouldn't be confused by its overlay, and waited for its weird not-afterimages to dissipate. "Okay, I'm ready," she said, opening her eyes as wide as she could. She half expected Demonax, or whoever it was, to start waving around a light-wand or something, or shine a pinpoint laser on the walls, or something. Instead, she heard faint rustlings of cloth, rattlings of wood against wood.
"Do you see, child?" Demonax whispered.
"I don't—" Jeriel began…and then she did see…something. Maybe it was just random neurons firing, understimulated optic cells sending noise to her gullible optic nerve. But no, she knew what that looked like. This was…
That shadowy face was…was that Eisenburg's profile? Before she could decide, it was gone, replaced by a familiar-looking nebula. She was sure she'd seen that before in some star-chart or other. Then a twinkling pattern of stars. Belatedly, she started saving images to her implant, half expecting that later she would find them all blank. But no matter how they were getting into her visual cortex, she could store them once they were there. She'd saved an entire dream once by accident—that had been scary. This…well, this was also scary.
She flinched at the final series of images, random bursts of light that coalesced into a pitched space battle, not as seen from the bridge of a starship, but as one might see it while floating in space: no missiles or lasers visible until they hit their targets, explosions quickly damped as oxygen fled. But nevertheless so dense that the number of ships involved must be…more than she could even conceive.
After that image, all dimmed to darkness again. She thought it was over…and then she saw one final image. The Borer. Her breath caught. Would she find it at last?
The clicking and rustling faded. "Have you seen, child?" Demonax said.
"Yes, I—" Jeriel faltered. "I saw something," she said, trying to play it cool. "Not sure if it means anything. Or if it's any good."
"So many deaths," Demonax whispered. "Are you sure it's worth it, child?"
How could she— Then Jeriel straightened her spine. "Yes. It will be. It will have to be."
"Mmm," Demonax said. Then, "You can sleep if you want. In a few hours it will be dawn and then I can light the fire. And then we can go."
"We?"
