Delay

Hai guys,

I'm still putting together an update... I hope to get something to you by Thursday. :-(

Mist Maven, II

DAMSEL

Chapter 19, Of Flirting, Folly, and Fairies

Eve danced in water and mist and tripped over her ankles, tempted Cymen with a wild sway of her arms and a flapping black veil. She was become a matador, perhaps of al Andaluz, or from before, in the place called Gaul. But not as far back as Eden, no. The Father could not have dreamed man and woman would play with each other, not least of all like to passionate and teased animals, once upon a time, back then.

The woman bowed low and this red-headed bull slipped in mud, scrambled toward her again. Was there another thunder?

They felt mad, they felt light, seeing the raindrops sluice and squeeze through the air, as if being blown through a windowpane. Water beads once it gets to the other side, slows, stuck to the glass as if looking around itself, relieved to be inside. Only after then, a winding silver down the flat glass and to a windowsill, to a warm pool of its friends on the floor.

Eve and Cymen were blinking and laughing at the thunder, pointing at the cage of water falling in slow, dazzling sheaths around them, breathing high or too free on something—real joy it was, they supposed.

“Because the war is finally over. The Crusades—all of it!”

Eve sucked her teeth at Cymen and pushed his shoulder with both of her hands. “No, it’s because you and I are finally going to do this.”

And he was waiting for it, and she gave it to him. This kiss.

She laughed her next breath, opened her arms wide and slapped them across his wider back. “Argh! Why have we waited so long to do this?”

Cymen was helpless, eyes glazed, looking for another.

She let him, then pushed out of it and pointed. “Look, it’s finally the lake, sweetest heart—”

“You don’t ever call me that.”

“But weren’t we looking for the lake. All my life—”

“Your whole life?”

“Well, my life while here… I’ve always wanted to see the great lake.”

“I never realized… that we had one. Though, now that I think of it… I must have just never believed… the stories. Aren’t there stories of the lake, Eve?”

“Oh, there must be. Cymen, I think I’ll be angry if we can’t go and…” she shouted through the rain, “Touch it!”

The rain now rushed to the sky, and the ground singed, it gasped and yellowed as it was dried up. Clouds grew heavy with more gray, then finally, black.

Now, night.

 

“That’s no lake, it’s a puddle. And come here, you’ll get cold.”

“You just want to be kissing again.” Eve knelt by the white puddle, as white as the stars that were absent. She placed her whole flat hand over it. “Oh my…”

Afterward, she was beneath it, her hand holding the bright rippling mirror up. “Oh no! Goodness—Cymen, help…” but it was all gurgling, though she could not have known it.

He helped her onto a boat. It was shaped like a leaf. “I ran and got one just in time… are you alright?” After he confirmed that she was, “Be careful, it’s thin, isn’t it? But it was the only thing around I could use…”

“Such a green, green boat.”

“Aye, it is.”

And there were others, floating there on the water. Some were very thin, on the horizon, looking exactly like blades of grass. But, from afar, but then, should they have been near… what would they have looked like then?

Cymen shrugged, wiped his brow clear of damp, dark-burnt hair. “Maybe they all are blades of grass and these leaves, and we fairies now, so what? Why not? Yes, you are a fairy… A really, very irritating fairy. Why don’t you come over here, already?”

“And they’re exactly where they want to be. Yes, this is going to hurt…”

Eve squealed out of another frustrated kiss. “Good Father almighty, look!” Eve screamed that she had known all along that this was fairy-craft. “Ever since I met that girl Rabbit… or that thing she had, and she’d called it a rabbit…”

“You know Rabbit? How did she ever escape?” and the hissing voices, their too-soft sifting sounds between their lips with no teeth—no, their aquamarine lips with black teeth. But some were angry rose, others were sickly dawn green, all against dark skin, black teeth, black whites of eyes. Blacks of eyes?

“What did you say to our eyes, girl? You’re ridiculous… our very blood is black, throbbing with power.”

And, because there was a second fairy there, now just flown in on dragonfly wings, “Thousands of years of power saved, only for one purpose.”

Cymen stroked Eve’s back, up over her crown of hair that was beginning to dry. “What purpose. Where are we?” Then, he realized, “Where are you leading us?”

They smiled to one another, each woman touching her nose together. “They need more mist…”

Now, this time, there was black rain. They should not have seen it, but it was so dark it competed with the moonlight, it made them flinch as if cold blobs of shadow were peeling from the air in all directions. Or, fat bugs racing, flying, crashing, bursting, skittering.

Rather than thunder, veins of lightning made themselves known in the gray firmament. Another heartbeat, and it was gone again.

Eve shut her eyes, almost fully removed by Cymen’s touch. He, instead, was leaning in. He had not blinked. “…Tell me now. Are we in trouble with her? If so, then by the code, I should have, at least, my sword. Is this a trial that’s on? You owe me that!”

One of the fairies flew down to them, while the other encircled the boat. Both of them making an irritating buzzing noise. She stood in front of Cymen, sat her ass ontop of Eve’s turned head. Her toes bore no nails.

Fingers flickered over kneecaps that were round as a doll’s. No bone. Her whole body was as liquid-perfect as that.

“Eve…”

“Yes?”

“He’s waking up.”

Eve turned around, this woman balanced still on her head, like she was a hat, not moving anywhere, not needing to shift her weight or rebalance. The two women lifted together as Eve crawled to Cymen and kissed him one last time. "As good as cuffed hands..."

The second fairy crouched ontop of Cymen’s head. They two laughed, plucked hairs from their heads, held these up against a gaining wind, and the deep green boat sailed on, towards a great violent smoking mountain in the distance.

Now, thunder and lightning struck together.

Next, Mist Maven III - The Trial of Beaus and Errors

Most embarrassing writer moments evar

I've got the writer's blues again...

Getting time and energy together to update is a bit of a process still, so here's some more writer's chickie soup for ya (you're not alone, I'm even willing to share evidence of this!):


Most embarrassing moment as a writer #4,781

Hey, remember the time that writing fanfiction became so unsatisfying, I started leaving comments for my story in-character(s)--and these were hilarious, but they still didn't change the fact nobody else was reading or commenting? Talking to myself has never ever so much fun... in public. Where everyone can see/read. And, screw up their faces. And, shake their heads quietly.

Maybe this will cheer everything up? Failed to convince
myself not to post this strange, happy monstrosity

Most embarrassing moment as a writer #29

All those really sweet and tender love poems I posted that didn't mean anything to anyone except for me, apparently. But, at least they were hella good anyways--I don't care if You never read them, I can do better than You! Wait, can I really? ...Crap.

Most embarrassing moment as a writer #302

Oh yeah, that'd have to be the random Spore video I posted and then tried to pass off as some inspired reflection about the creative process. Except... no, I was just really writer's blocked, up the ying yang.

-J

New Damsel art!

Damsel, the logo. Half-colored.

 Sorry guys, I know it's been a while since I've last posted. Still working on the next chapter of Damsel-- we've hit another of those parts of the unpublished manuscript where I left a hole in the writing, to go and focus on another part that I thought might be more fun to write at that moment. Not that what we're about to do right now isn't fun. Not that you should stop reading...

Okay, before my foot gets completely in my mouth, here is my first attempt at a story banner of Damascus and Eve. I have other stories and banners to go with those, but I hadn't made one for the snarky, insane damsel Eve, her strangely perverted yet enlightened Unicorn friend, and then Captain Cymen Ruecross of the Harmonic and Golden Order. You know, that big, red-headed virgin hero with an 'I need to kill a dragon with my sword' complex?

A close-up of Eve. Look, she's ignoring her studies! So authentic.

Well, this is what I have to contribute for now. If I'm unable to get a new chapter to you in time, then I will find another story or prose of mine to share. I have tons--but I can't just give away my entire portfolio... ugh, such a conundrum. All I want to do is tell the stories, share them, but then, if I do share all of them in their entirety, how can I earn a living as a writer? Something about this artform is so messed up, I swear.

Well, I guess you could say the same about every art form... but I can't pull a Jonathan Coulton and post all my stories on Youtube either for people to listen to again and again and then buy my album, now can I?

Wait... can I? Wait, what?

Dangit!