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ohmyfaeI'm working on an original work in-between fics right now. It's not the next great fantasy novel or anything--It's honestly just as self-indulgent as my fics are, but it's fun, and I'd like to see how it works out. AO3's TOS are pretty clear about original fiction, so I can't really post it on there, so what I'm going to do is write 500 words a day, then post an excerpt on here once a week until it's done.
The story is about elves, dragons, psychics, and a guy who may end up being the worst sorcerer in the world. The first 500 words or so are below the cut!
The fair came to Hibiscus Court at the height of summer, when even the sawgrass drooped and gators blinked in the gutters, hiding from the sun. The bridges that criss-crossed the Court in every direction were draped with children and tourists, the beach was a disaster of towels and parasols, and everyone walked slowly, wading through the humidity with the air of people with nothing to do and plenty of time to do it in. It wasn't exactly the perfect weather for a fair, with its food trucks and crowded tents, but the fairgrounds still buzzed with workers, who grimly raised banners and hammered together crude stalls at the gates.
Riley Josson stood on the top rail of the fence overlooking the fairgrounds and wrapped his arms around the spikes.
"There's a gold carpet by the main tent," he said. "Just lying on the grass."
Down below, a small white dog barked softly.
"Well, I don't know why," Riley said. "I always thought gold carpets were for, you know, royalty."
The dog barked again, and Riley sighed. It would have been better if his sister were there. She probably would have given him a boost up the fence, maybe even over it, and they would've snuck behind the big tent with the cage at the top and watched the workers set up the bleachers. Instead, all he had was Missy, who was a pretty good friend in a pinch, but not the best conversationalist.
Riley slid back down the fence and landed with a thump in the browning grass. Behind him, the fairgrounds were alive with hammering, with shouts and creaks and the heavy flap of canvas in the breeze. Missy barked at them for good measure, then barked at Riley, then, with great care, twisted round to stare cross-eyed at her own tail and bark at herself.
"Alright," Riley said. "You're bored. I get it." He strode down the gentle slope towards the main street, and Missy bounded after him, stubby paws scrabbling in the dirt. He bent down to pick her up, tucked her under his arm, and started off across the street.
There was a screech of wheels on the dirt and a great clatter of hooves, and Riley nearly dropped Missy as a white horse screamed in his ear. It was a massive creature, beautiful and wild-eyed, and Riley had to stumble back as it stamped and huffed and jostled the spindly-looking carriage strapped to its back. Riley leaned over just as the carriage window flapped open, and a man with the bright red hair of a northerner slumped over the side.
"Excuse me," he said.
"Oh," Riley said. Missy squirmed under his arm, barking excitedly at the horse. The horse rolled its eyes at her. "That's okay."
The man smiled. "My relief knows no bounds. Now. If your highness would kindly cross the street?" His voice was low, almost congenial, but Riley could see a flicker of annoyance in his eyes.
"Sure," he said. "But maybe you should watch where you're going, first."
"Charming," the man said, and flapped a hand. Riley scrunched up his face at him and shied around the horse, which was staring at Missy with the well-bred alarm of a society lady discovering a rat on the rug. Riley stamped over to the sidewalk, and the man in the carriage waved a hand at him. He clicked his tongue, and the horse took off, all signs of fear forgotten, kicking up a cloud of dust.
It wasn't until Riley was two blocks down, scratching Missy behind the ears and murmuring about jerks in carriages who didn't know proper street etiquette if it bit them on the ass, that he realized there'd been no one holding the horse's reins.
The story is about elves, dragons, psychics, and a guy who may end up being the worst sorcerer in the world. The first 500 words or so are below the cut!
The fair came to Hibiscus Court at the height of summer, when even the sawgrass drooped and gators blinked in the gutters, hiding from the sun. The bridges that criss-crossed the Court in every direction were draped with children and tourists, the beach was a disaster of towels and parasols, and everyone walked slowly, wading through the humidity with the air of people with nothing to do and plenty of time to do it in. It wasn't exactly the perfect weather for a fair, with its food trucks and crowded tents, but the fairgrounds still buzzed with workers, who grimly raised banners and hammered together crude stalls at the gates.
Riley Josson stood on the top rail of the fence overlooking the fairgrounds and wrapped his arms around the spikes.
"There's a gold carpet by the main tent," he said. "Just lying on the grass."
Down below, a small white dog barked softly.
"Well, I don't know why," Riley said. "I always thought gold carpets were for, you know, royalty."
The dog barked again, and Riley sighed. It would have been better if his sister were there. She probably would have given him a boost up the fence, maybe even over it, and they would've snuck behind the big tent with the cage at the top and watched the workers set up the bleachers. Instead, all he had was Missy, who was a pretty good friend in a pinch, but not the best conversationalist.
Riley slid back down the fence and landed with a thump in the browning grass. Behind him, the fairgrounds were alive with hammering, with shouts and creaks and the heavy flap of canvas in the breeze. Missy barked at them for good measure, then barked at Riley, then, with great care, twisted round to stare cross-eyed at her own tail and bark at herself.
"Alright," Riley said. "You're bored. I get it." He strode down the gentle slope towards the main street, and Missy bounded after him, stubby paws scrabbling in the dirt. He bent down to pick her up, tucked her under his arm, and started off across the street.
There was a screech of wheels on the dirt and a great clatter of hooves, and Riley nearly dropped Missy as a white horse screamed in his ear. It was a massive creature, beautiful and wild-eyed, and Riley had to stumble back as it stamped and huffed and jostled the spindly-looking carriage strapped to its back. Riley leaned over just as the carriage window flapped open, and a man with the bright red hair of a northerner slumped over the side.
"Excuse me," he said.
"Oh," Riley said. Missy squirmed under his arm, barking excitedly at the horse. The horse rolled its eyes at her. "That's okay."
The man smiled. "My relief knows no bounds. Now. If your highness would kindly cross the street?" His voice was low, almost congenial, but Riley could see a flicker of annoyance in his eyes.
"Sure," he said. "But maybe you should watch where you're going, first."
"Charming," the man said, and flapped a hand. Riley scrunched up his face at him and shied around the horse, which was staring at Missy with the well-bred alarm of a society lady discovering a rat on the rug. Riley stamped over to the sidewalk, and the man in the carriage waved a hand at him. He clicked his tongue, and the horse took off, all signs of fear forgotten, kicking up a cloud of dust.
It wasn't until Riley was two blocks down, scratching Missy behind the ears and murmuring about jerks in carriages who didn't know proper street etiquette if it bit them on the ass, that he realized there'd been no one holding the horse's reins.
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Date: 2018-12-06 03:10 am (UTC)