HOME | DD

Description
my computer just refuses to let me upload it any other way :/.
i was irritated that i couldn't have it as a deviation, so i submitted it as "visual poetry" which is the only form of literature i can upload while still in the literature section.
so~ here is that story from that journal, the one for my creative writing class.
kinda random, so i may not do much more with it, even though i like it.

>> “Felix, fetch my dice. I’m bored; maybe I can kill something…”
>> “Yes, of course my Lord,” replied an anxious servant in jester attire, sensing his master’s new mood. He hurriedly dashed into the next room to grab a small, battered chest with no lock. He handed it to the smirking king with a bow, and retreated back to his post in the corner.
>> A moment’s worth of tired red sparks flared as Svin, undead sovereign of Swentell, opened the otherwise unprotected chest. Inside it was the marvelous pair of dice. Shining cubes of hematite with sparkling inset ruby dots, they were said to have been dragon-made, and ancient as his country. When viewed at a glance, they seemed bloody - by trickery of the light or by sinister cursing, no one knew for sure. The peasants spread rumors of the dice being the tool of Death, though sometimes the stories referred to the Devil. Either way, the superstitions had made them infamously frightening, and few would even dare look at them. But other than all the myths of unnecessary curses, the strange whispering sounds chanting from within, the eerie gleam they emitted when reflecting candlelight, they were rather unremarkable. As far as Svin had Felix investigate, they actually held no curse, however creepy they may seem (though Svin seemed to see more in them). And so, he kept them- wishing to instill within the precious squares a curse of his own, if even only another legend.
>> He enjoyed coming up with games in which he could use the dice and govern his realm at the same time, simply for the interesting effect it would have when seen from his high office. Today, he rolled them across the table in his study, the small dice mysteriously managing to scatter his papers as they rolled and leap across the stable surface. One rolled and skidded to a halt, the shimmering red dots burned streaks through the air, which dissipated in a blur of motion. The other continued for a fraction longer, and with a dramatic spin on its tip, fell with a thunk, which echoed a hiss around the room. Three and Four sparkles winked at Svin from under the shelf they had taken refuge in. They always seemed to do so, light probably repelled them.
>> Svin reached under the desk and picked up two fallen pages. One held a map of his kingdom, divided into 6ths. The other held a numbered set of 6 consequences, both cruel and benign. He let the numbers correspond to whichever die he so felt it should, and paused to consider.
>>“Hmm… it seems our aristocracy will be funding me for…” He thought a moment, staring at the currency symbol written next to #4 of his list, “…a masquerade. We haven’t held one of those in a while…” Svin was a rather vain vampire, and was entertained by over-extravagancy. This fact could be seen by the slightly irked look on his advisor’s face, and mirrored by the fact that this servant also doubled as his jester. Felix twitched, and the bells hanging from the many drooping points on his hat all tinkled annoyingly. “I wish you to oversee the plans,” Svin added, the bells jingling him back from his momentary absence of mind.
>> “Yes my lord, of course.” Felix mumbled, leaving the room as fast as politely possible. Once he was several halls away, he breathed easy, more than glad to be away from the dice, regardless of whether or not they were cursed.
>>He made his way to the servants’ chambers and announced the king’s decision. Everyone rolled their eyes but got hastily to work all the same. Their master’s pointlessness was matched only by his cruelty when disobeyed. But Felix did have to credit him for being at least better than the late king had been. Torture and execution left, right, and center was common from Svell. Svin, however, only tortured when he felt necessary (though that didn’t make up for the fact that it was over-done when it did happen). And Felix thanked the gods that “mass murder” wasn’t on the dice list.
>> After giving a few orders to some kitchen workers, Felix went and sat in the chilled courtyard to think. He took off his hat and tossed it, the jingling bells irritatingly magnified in the silence. He pondered his master a bit. There was really no single definite way to describe him, and he was often contradictory in nature. By all means he was brilliant and talented, but perhaps that was what twisted his mind. Felix’s simplest guess was just that his king had a tendency to be eccentric and liked to mix things up. But in no way what so ever did that characteristic befit the role of a king. Not that he could change that, Svin had already earned his crown in the traditional bloody fashion of the kingdom. With a sigh, he got up and trudged to the library in need of an escape.
>>> -
Irelle watched closely as the obnoxiously dressed servant walked away, a definite lack of enthusiasm quite evident in his body language. She slipped down the pillar she had hidden on, behind the figure of a rearing dragon. Her stark white hair was pulled back into a tightly woven bun, to keep if from longingly grasping at the breeze the way her ribbon did now. But she didn’t notice, too far lost in thought.
>>The servant had been so desperately frustrated and puzzled that she could almost have read his thoughts, though of course, that was something she would never do. The mind was a place for personal refuge, not something to be explored by anyone more alien than oneself. And the feelings were enough; they provided sufficient scraps of memory for her to determine where the Dice were now.
>>She glided through the passages, by all untrained senses she could be nothing more than a ghost. Upon arriving at the study, looking familiar thanks to borrowed memory, she listened intently at the door. All was quiet. Even a vampire would make more sound than what she heard from the room beyond. Irelle opened the door, taking care not to make a sound (which was a natural talent of hers). Her soft red eyes examined the small room. Upon first glance, it would not be believable to belong to the frivolous king, so lacking was its space. But it was crammed with books on shelves, in the thin windowsill, stacked upon the floor- all of which were bound in varying hues of dark leather, with shining titles in sinister and saintly languages. Barely enough space was made for the desk and chair. A small, worn chest was hidden in a shadowy corner by a shelf.
>> Irelle slid into the room and looked carefully at the box, as if sizing up and opponent. Her people knew the curses the dice held, though she was one of the burdened few to know how these curses were activated. She would have thought King Svin a fool for his arrogance and ignorance to use such tabooed objects, but she felt it best that he did not know, and therefore did not chance invoke or use the dice in the way for which they had been demented and designed. Svin was a threat for his spontaneity, his hypocrisy, his sudden random decrees. No one really did understand his anomalous way of thinking, and so could not predict what he would do with such evil if he knew what power it possessed. It all must be stopped before it could be allowed to begin.
>> Irelle carefully reached for the chest, her senses could detect its spell of protection, but her wards held them at bay as she snatched the box and wrapped it in her sash. Wanting to be wholly out of this place when the king found out, she had every intention to dash like windswept leaves through the twisting tunnels of the castle. But alas, that was not allowed to be so.
>>“May I be so bold as to ask why you are invading my private study?” came the deceptively calm, low voice of Svin. Irelle jumped, already bracing herself for a fight. But despite all her years of training, she could not be sure who would be victorious. There was a reason Svin had been named king, instead of any of his now deceased brothers and various rebellious nobles. He took a step into the room as a chill breeze swam through the hall and engulfed them both, sending Irelle’s ribbons dancing, and the candle flame cowering for a brief moment before it died. The only light now came from the moon’s glare through the window behind her, the hall lights having been similarly extinguished. The cloudy night took over as Irelle’s heart raced. Darkness consumed the study, and somehow managed to muffle all other senses. Dread filled her, but she made way for courage. Even in fear there can be victory… Irelle clutched her glass daggers and pounced. -----
>>>-TO POSSIBLY NEVER BE CONTINUED-

Description
my computer just refuses to let me upload it any other way :/.
i was irritated that i couldn't have it as a deviation, so i submitted it as "visual poetry" which is the only form of literature i can upload while still in the literature section.
so~ here is that story from that journal, the one for my creative writing class.
kinda random, so i may not do much more with it, even though i like it.

>> “Felix, fetch my dice. I’m bored; maybe I can kill something…”
>> “Yes, of course my Lord,” replied an anxious servant in jester attire, sensing his master’s new mood. He hurriedly dashed into the next room to grab a small, battered chest with no lock. He handed it to the smirking king with a bow, and retreated back to his post in the corner.
>> A moment’s worth of tired red sparks flared as Svin, undead sovereign of Swentell, opened the otherwise unprotected chest. Inside it was the marvelous pair of dice. Shining cubes of hematite with sparkling inset ruby dots, they were said to have been dragon-made, and ancient as his country. When viewed at a glance, they seemed bloody - by trickery of the light or by sinister cursing, no one knew for sure. The peasants spread rumors of the dice being the tool of Death, though sometimes the stories referred to the Devil. Either way, the superstitions had made them infamously frightening, and few would even dare look at them. But other than all the myths of unnecessary curses, the strange whispering sounds chanting from within, the eerie gleam they emitted when reflecting candlelight, they were rather unremarkable. As far as Svin had Felix investigate, they actually held no curse, however creepy they may seem (though Svin seemed to see more in them). And so, he kept them- wishing to instill within the precious squares a curse of his own, if even only another legend.
>> He enjoyed coming up with games in which he could use the dice and govern his realm at the same time, simply for the interesting effect it would have when seen from his high office. Today, he rolled them across the table in his study, the small dice mysteriously managing to scatter his papers as they rolled and leap across the stable surface. One rolled and skidded to a halt, the shimmering red dots burned streaks through the air, which dissipated in a blur of motion. The other continued for a fraction longer, and with a dramatic spin on its tip, fell with a thunk, which echoed a hiss around the room. Three and Four sparkles winked at Svin from under the shelf they had taken refuge in. They always seemed to do so, light probably repelled them.
>> Svin reached under the desk and picked up two fallen pages. One held a map of his kingdom, divided into 6ths. The other held a numbered set of 6 consequences, both cruel and benign. He let the numbers correspond to whichever die he so felt it should, and paused to consider.
>>“Hmm… it seems our aristocracy will be funding me for…” He thought a moment, staring at the currency symbol written next to #4 of his list, “…a masquerade. We haven’t held one of those in a while…” Svin was a rather vain vampire, and was entertained by over-extravagancy. This fact could be seen by the slightly irked look on his advisor’s face, and mirrored by the fact that this servant also doubled as his jester. Felix twitched, and the bells hanging from the many drooping points on his hat all tinkled annoyingly. “I wish you to oversee the plans,” Svin added, the bells jingling him back from his momentary absence of mind.
>> “Yes my lord, of course.” Felix mumbled, leaving the room as fast as politely possible. Once he was several halls away, he breathed easy, more than glad to be away from the dice, regardless of whether or not they were cursed.
>>He made his way to the servants’ chambers and announced the king’s decision. Everyone rolled their eyes but got hastily to work all the same. Their master’s pointlessness was matched only by his cruelty when disobeyed. But Felix did have to credit him for being at least better than the late king had been. Torture and execution left, right, and center was common from Svell. Svin, however, only tortured when he felt necessary (though that didn’t make up for the fact that it was over-done when it did happen). And Felix thanked the gods that “mass murder” wasn’t on the dice list.
>> After giving a few orders to some kitchen workers, Felix went and sat in the chilled courtyard to think. He took off his hat and tossed it, the jingling bells irritatingly magnified in the silence. He pondered his master a bit. There was really no single definite way to describe him, and he was often contradictory in nature. By all means he was brilliant and talented, but perhaps that was what twisted his mind. Felix’s simplest guess was just that his king had a tendency to be eccentric and liked to mix things up. But in no way what so ever did that characteristic befit the role of a king. Not that he could change that, Svin had already earned his crown in the traditional bloody fashion of the kingdom. With a sigh, he got up and trudged to the library in need of an escape.
>>> -
Irelle watched closely as the obnoxiously dressed servant walked away, a definite lack of enthusiasm quite evident in his body language. She slipped down the pillar she had hidden on, behind the figure of a rearing dragon. Her stark white hair was pulled back into a tightly woven bun, to keep if from longingly grasping at the breeze the way her ribbon did now. But she didn’t notice, too far lost in thought.
>>The servant had been so desperately frustrated and puzzled that she could almost have read his thoughts, though of course, that was something she would never do. The mind was a place for personal refuge, not something to be explored by anyone more alien than oneself. And the feelings were enough; they provided sufficient scraps of memory for her to determine where the Dice were now.
>>She glided through the passages, by all untrained senses she could be nothing more than a ghost. Upon arriving at the study, looking familiar thanks to borrowed memory, she listened intently at the door. All was quiet. Even a vampire would make more sound than what she heard from the room beyond. Irelle opened the door, taking care not to make a sound (which was a natural talent of hers). Her soft red eyes examined the small room. Upon first glance, it would not be believable to belong to the frivolous king, so lacking was its space. But it was crammed with books on shelves, in the thin windowsill, stacked upon the floor- all of which were bound in varying hues of dark leather, with shining titles in sinister and saintly languages. Barely enough space was made for the desk and chair. A small, worn chest was hidden in a shadowy corner by a shelf.
>> Irelle slid into the room and looked carefully at the box, as if sizing up and opponent. Her people knew the curses the dice held, though she was one of the burdened few to know how these curses were activated. She would have thought King Svin a fool for his arrogance and ignorance to use such tabooed objects, but she felt it best that he did not know, and therefore did not chance invoke or use the dice in the way for which they had been demented and designed. Svin was a threat for his spontaneity, his hypocrisy, his sudden random decrees. No one really did understand his anomalous way of thinking, and so could not predict what he would do with such evil if he knew what power it possessed. It all must be stopped before it could be allowed to begin.
>> Irelle carefully reached for the chest, her senses could detect its spell of protection, but her wards held them at bay as she snatched the box and wrapped it in her sash. Wanting to be wholly out of this place when the king found out, she had every intention to dash like windswept leaves through the twisting tunnels of the castle. But alas, that was not allowed to be so.
>>“May I be so bold as to ask why you are invading my private study?” came the deceptively calm, low voice of Svin. Irelle jumped, already bracing herself for a fight. But despite all her years of training, she could not be sure who would be victorious. There was a reason Svin had been named king, instead of any of his now deceased brothers and various rebellious nobles. He took a step into the room as a chill breeze swam through the hall and engulfed them both, sending Irelle’s ribbons dancing, and the candle flame cowering for a brief moment before it died. The only light now came from the moon’s glare through the window behind her, the hall lights having been similarly extinguished. The cloudy night took over as Irelle’s heart raced. Darkness consumed the study, and somehow managed to muffle all other senses. Dread filled her, but she made way for courage. Even in fear there can be victory… Irelle clutched her glass daggers and pounced. -----
>>>-TO POSSIBLY NEVER BE CONTINUED-