The clanking of plates and the barely-there radio tunes filled the heavy silence in the room. Hugo stood on a ladder, reaching up to unhook the decorations of storks and baby carriages. He wondered just how badly a fall from this height would really be.
“Hugo darling, can you help me with putting away these dishes?” Rose-Marie’s voice rattled the air and shook Hugo back to reality . He threw a stern hand out to balance himself down the rungs. Catching a fainting glance at the shiny gold ring on his left hand as he made his way into the kitchen. Hugo always hated the kitchen, it was said to be modern, some new art deco fad had taken over 1934. They had bought one of those new house lots from the paper but the world could never be modern enough for Hugo.
As he rounded the corner, he saw his wife with her big swollen belly. 5 months already, or at least that is what the doctor suspects, which means it had been 4 months since Hugo couldn’t think straight.
“Ah good, here take these, they need to go on top of that shelf,” Rosie staggered as she handed Hugo 3 big clean pots. Hugo put them away without a word and turned to go back to his duty of taking all the pink little streamers down from the hard white walls he had paid so much for.
“Hugo? Why can’t you just enjoy this? You said you would”
Hugo stopped by the door frame, “Enjoy, this? Apparently I’m not a good as an actor as I thought I was. My usual parade of tricks seemed to get all of my energy, apologies that this was a bit too much for me today” He turned around, putting his hands in his pocket as he leaned against the wood frame of the kitchen. He blew the long brown hair, that had snuck out of the gelled-do from that morning out of his face, “Rosie. This is a circus at this point—we are a circus,”
“But, no one knows!-”
“That’s not the right answer here!” Hugo almost immediately regretted raising his voice, he never did yell at Rosie, not even when she had first told him those 4 months ago. But his face held stern.
“Hugo, this is what we always wanted. Look around. We’re married—finally were married! We have a house - we even have a god awful white picket fence. And now a baby. Please, Hugo, let's just take what we have,” Rosie argued as she held onto her stomach.
“This” Hugo motioned to Rosie and her action, “isn’t mine. Someone else already took what I had and worse, you just let him!” Hugo noticed that Rose-Marie flinched at those last few words. “Perhaps he didn’t. But you told me—” Hugo started pacing around the kitchen table, facing away from Rosie as he lost himself, “ I’m telling you Rosie one day, oh one day! Oh Thomas! I swear to God that son of a bitch!—”
Hugo slammed his palm down on the table. His eyes were wide as saucers and his shoulders clenched up as he slowly, meticulously, turned and looked up at Rose-Marie.
“How dare you...” he sputtered out, voice cracking. He pointed a finger towards Rose-Marie, “Don’t you ever. Ever! Call me that.” Rose-Marie held her hands against her chest and Hugo’s unblinking stare. He held her gaze for a moment longer before relaxing his shoulders and walking out of the kitchen.
As he stomped up the stairs, he heard Rosie crying. Every bone in his body wanted to go back and hold her, to tell her everything was okay but all the logic he possessed pushed those feelings down as he slammed the door of the bedroom.
Hugo started to undress from the monkey suit Rosie had picked out for him that morning. He always hated anything other than blue and black and this pale flamingo and tan combo only brought back those horrible feelings of being in a cage. He removed his jacket, then his tie, then his shirt but there was one thing left on his torso. Oh how he could barely stand that thing. The way it tightened around his chest and dug into his skin so harshly it left almost a permanent mark around his ribcage. But it was either the mark or the two other reminders that this life he seemed to be living is just a house of cards. He was startled from thought as he felt wet on his cheeks. He quickly wiped away the tears that escaped.
Men don’t cry, Evie.
Hugo grabbed two towels for his shower. He threw one over the rung of the shower curtain and the other over the adjacent mirror, covering it completely before finally removing the rest of his clothing and getting into the shower. The hot water felt like some relief against his tense muscles. Why was he so angry? Everything he could have wanted was all right here.
He had already accepted he would never hear those words in reference to himself but now that it was here, all he could think of was how hard they slashed into his heart.
The shower was always a good place to think for Hugo, it helped distract from the reality of his own body. He thought about how his plan needed to form soon but right now it seemed like even that was a ridiculous thought. He thought about how easy it would be to let blood wash down the drain, he had seen it before many times. And he thought about Rosie. How out of all people, the only one who really knew him, gave in to someone else. Everything he could’ve ever wanted was right here but even she left him, even if it was for a moment, for someone more ‘real’. Someone who could give her all those things so simply, all those things he prayed to God for night after night.
What a funny idea to him. This God that he prays to with his wife every Sunday in the big church built for His name. How many Sunday’s has Hugo given up for Him? When Hugo had asked for the gift of a child, he didn’t mean like this. This wasn’t a gift from any God, no matter how much Rosie said so. This was another reminder, just like the indent circling his chest.
Hugo hadn’t talked to Rosie since that day. They had only exchanged glances and fell asleep in separate rooms. It had been just over a day and it already started to feel so lonely. The room full of men in their suits talking about expenses and cars usually would brighten up Hugo’s dreary mood but today it just felt like pretend.
“Mr. Farwell?” Hugo jumped at the question and searched for its origin. Hugo’s eyes fell upon Thomas as the man chuckled, “Ha, sorry there buddy but we need those papers.” Hugo stared at him, holding his chin in his hand. This guy has the audacity to call him buddy.
Hugo managed to crack a fake smile but his words still dripped in acid as he answered, “Sorry bud.” Hugo threw an envelope at Thomas a little too hard as it slid down from the table where they were all seated and rocketed to the floor.
“Whoops. I never was good at sports ya know,” Hugo joked as he sat back down. The room didn’t seem to notice the tension in between his actions and the meeting kept going on.
Hugo noticed all the little tiny mannerisms they all did seemingly so naturally. The way his boss would puff out his chest and fill the room with his presence and how everyone else did too just with some more self remorse. The way they crossed their legs, not in the same manner Rosie would, but rather leaving that triangle of space, creating a four with the two limbs.
Remembering Rosie pained Hugo, but she was his safe space and there could be no helping in the way he thought of her deep within him, that he knew for certain.
So many other things though are not yet known. Perhaps they were already set and Hugo just had to find it. But this thought only pained him further for some reason.
Looking back around the room he pondered what these men must look like in their homes. Their wives tending to the dinner as they run around with their children, playing like when they were once a boy. What a dream they must all be living. Shouldn’t he also find that dream for himself? Rosie was right, “Why can’t you just enjoy this?”
Thomas got up again and Hugo barely managed to look up at the man before he clasped his hands together for an announcement. Hugo felt like he did not hear the words but rather just saw Thomas mouth them. The only thing he could hear was the raging ringing banging around his ears. Partner . Thomas was up for Partner? No, he got Partner. Thomas, the man who sat at the desk outside of Hugo’s office, was now sat by his side. He was too close, he had already been too close actually. What is this obsession with Hugo’s life he must have to not only invade his wife but also Hugo’s position, no, affirmation of doggy-dog hierarchy in the company. Oh how tall the building seems at this very moment.
The wall was dark, since he got home Hugo had gone into the spare bedroom and sat on the floor. He had not turned on the lights and now as the sun was setting, the room faded more and more. Unopened sample cans of paint and packages of baby furniture sat beside his lump of a body.
The words pierced the thick air of the nursery. But at the same time the voice was so warm and pleasant to his ears, he could almost let out a sigh of relief.
“Hugo. I need to tell you something,” Rosie leaned against the door, biting her lip nervously. “I don’t know how to say it but please just listen.”
Hugo sat so very still for a moment then turned on his hand to face her. As she stood in the doorway, the light of the hall radiated behind her. She was so soft and beautiful, it made his heart skip a beat. He was ready to listen. Anything she had to say, he would accept. He wanted to, no needed to accept it. Yes Rosie, the answer is yes whatever it is. I love our family, I already know that I just need a way to tell you. I just need to—
She swayed and then broke down in tears, “Know I lied not for him, but for you. Everything I have ever done was always for you Ev—Hugo.” Her eyes opened widely and she fell to her knees, “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Hugo rushed over to her and held her for the first time in days. “No matter Rose-Marie, just tell me.”
“I never said yes Hugo.”
“What do you mean?”
“Hugo, Thomas is a bad man and I would never let him. He let himself. Please don’t make me say more than that.”
Rosie looked up at him finally. Her eyes were red and puffy already. Hugo knew she would put cucumbers on them the next day and not allow him to come in and see her in such a state. But Hugo would sneak in anyways and eat the cucumbers one by one; that always made Rosie laugh.
“Rosie..” Hugo held her closer, “You…”
Rosie didn’t let his thoughts continue.
“Hugo don’t be mad please. Imagine I told you then. I know you. You’re so brash. You would fight him wouldn’t you? Go fight him and be arrested or such and then what? What happenes in the first strip search? Or after? Don’t be mad.”
He shook his head at the idea. He was far from mad. A weird relief that was filled with even more distraught and disgust.
“No matter with that Rosie. He is not our concern, he is and always will be nothing. Don’t you worry the world will see it. I’ve sworn it and I swear it again.” Hugo’s eyes held stern and unmoving. These were not the eyes of the mad but the determined. Rosie held his deep brown eyes with her glassy blue ones a moment before burying her face in his chest. Hugo sat on the floor of the nursery stroking her long blonde hair and whispering ‘I love yous’. The light of the hall creeped in on both of them now as they sat.
“Congrats old man! I heard Rosie had her baby!”
Hugo turned around to face the voice of his boss. The two men stood leisurely side by side by the punch bowl watching the children play in the backyard of the grand colonial house.
“Mr. Weaving! Thank you.”
“What’s his name again?”
“Her name is Penny,” Hugo smiled and kept his eyes straight, the kids had seemed to find a gopher hole and were sticking tree branches as far as they would go into it, maybe hoping something would pop its head out and reveal itself.
“Oh… well then, just like her father then, a trupenny.” Mr. Weaving knocked his elbow into Hugo and lowered his voice, “Unlike some that used to be around.”
Hugo raised a quick brow before catching on, “You mean.”
“Let’s not talk about the details here. Too gruesome for a party, dontcha think? Shame. He was a bright young boy, I don’t think any of us could have seen that one coming—neither did the people on the street! Ha, lucky he didn’t survive, he woulda had to pay for all those shoe shines and dry cleaning with that mess he made and on my company property, with a million other high-rises around tow—,” Mr. Weaving caught himself and rubbed his shiny bald capped head. He cleared his throat, his hearty mustache moving in suit, “But you know, horrible thing for such a young man to do, huh Hugo?”
“Yes, what a pity that poor Thomas. I wouldn’t want to be in his wife’s shoes right now and leaving you with that position to fill. Selfish if you ask me, I would never abandon my family like that.” Hugo shook his head as he took another sip of his drink.
“Yeah, hardly a man I say,” Mr. Weaving copied and took a long drag of his cigarette. I got a new man already though, should come in on the 17th, you only got one more week fillin in his shoes.”
Hugo laughed “Ain’t no problem fillin’ in those shoes Mr.Weaving, don't you worry ’bout that.” The fatter man looked over at Hugo and chortled at the remark. He stared at Hugo for a second more.
Mr. Weaving glanced over, “Now don’t take this the wrong way Mr. Farwell.”
Hugo’s breath stopped for a moment.
“Anyone ever tell ya you got nice eyes? They’re so… glassy”
Hugo chuckled, “No sir, they haven’t.”
Projeckt Wasteland Part 1 - The Royale
It happens every 3 years. The arena was open, they were all here now, it just had to begin. The wide desert arena, about 20 miles long and wide, right smack in the middle of the carnage that had taken place 50 years before was alive and ready for The Royale. The engineers were put in the surveytion booth, a room in the middle of the arena 65 feet in the sky and only unlockable by all of the last Royale’s top 8 faction leader’s fingerprints. The engineers were the overseers and the prize.
There’s no audience here, just the lovely announcer and 65 feet high scrap metal walls.
Finally, an automated voice boomed through the speakers around the wall’s perimeter and a sketchy hologram of a bunny girl projected across the arena. “Welcome factions, may we ever be so delighted to present yet another gorgeous year of The Royale!” The hologram bounced in the air in her robotic manner. Her tight suit was patched from old logos no one could remember anymore and one of her bunny ears was bitten on the left side.
The large, rusty walls kept the yells and screams of excitement from the factions waiting outside at bay, at least from the inside of the arena. “Let’s line em up!” The robotic voice echoed.
From around the whole perimeter of the East side of the arena, doors had opened revealing the first 50 factions. 20 miles away, the West side had done the same, letting the other half trickle in. Trucks, Cars, motorcycles, tanks, and all slowly filed into the desert just enough to show themselves within it. The whoops and hollers of the participants shook the tall metal walls and added to the festivity. Then the large metal doors closed again and the projectors reflected against them as the voice announced, “Let us remember last year’s winners! Starting in the West in no particular order: Projeckt S!”
On the East side a pink and blue neon monster truck sounded along with about 9 people all painted with the same neon stripes scattered across their bodies. The projectors shone the image of the faction for everyone in the arena to see. The back of the truck spouted flames as the engine reved causing some to bark up again in excitement and others to roll their eyes at the flamboyant sight. Their leader, Syla, cried the loudest as she banged the top of the truck’s roof, her fists protected by fingerless leather gloves full of the same neon paint.
Syla jumped to her feet, her brown and blonde undercut revealed as her hair whipped up, showing the “JKT S” and heart that was shaved into the back of it. Only about mid-twenties, everyone knew about Syla and her… antics. She looked to her right, about 20 feet, to Kusanagi, faction 53’s leader and pulled at the end of her mouth with one hand and waved with the other, shaking the several hoops that dawned her ears and face. Kusanagi didn’t even bother to look at her. About 35 years Syla’s elder, Kusanagi couldn’t stand Projeckt S.
The hologram sounded again, “Aaaand next: Faction 53! Delightful name as always Kusanagi”, the bunny girl jeered as she talked behind her glitching hand.
Faction 53 was always intimidating and they always brought the most people, about 22 in total. Half on motorcycles and the other half manning the large black tank, adorned with golden words from all languages new and dead. Kusanagi was perched in a velvet chair welded on top of the tank. She leaned her cheek against her fist; the large sniper rifle in her left hand rested against her as she looked onward, mouth twitching slightly in anticipation. Of course, she’ll win her engineer again, but this year, this is the year Syla will finally die.
Faction 53 always dressed in all black; her people adorned black straps attached to various weapons and commodities and all wore masks from the eyes down with jarring gold painted faces. They made no noise as they sat looking onward into the desert.
“Aww come on! Make some noise will ya! Do something! This is The Royale!” The projectors focused on a large man from the faction over from Kusanagi dressed in a feathery coat, open to proudly his physique. He bounced off his chopper and started towards Faction 53, cracking his neck and slyly flexing his huge muscles as he walked. His large mustache shook up and down as he yelled, “You always do this, you make no fun ’ere!” He took out a modified crossbow from inside his jacket and pointed towards Kusanagi, “I think I should do us all a favor and take ya out for the next one-” Chhhh Skt
In a moment, where the giant man had been standing, there was nothing more than a red, feathery smear. The rail gun from the bottom of the surveytion room smoked as it faced the East side.
“Awww bummer! Looks like last year’s winner TinkerTown is disqualified as Ol’Garrow is out sick! Sorry Faction 28!” The announcer said as she crossed her arms in an animated manner, one finger against her face as she tilted her head.
The rail gun adjusted towards the shirtless men of TinkerTown and the arena turned red. “You know what to do!” the hologram said. A large countdown shadowed every wall “10! 9! 8!” The men rushed out the already opened wall door, leaving behind their choppers and cars. “1!”
The rail gun fired again, destroying any remains of Faction 28. Kusanagi let out a small breath of annoyance as she heard Syla and her gang cackle and bang against the truck once again.
The announcer went through 4 others, all eliciting some type of brouhaha.The last one, Chups, elicited a particular stir after flipping from the top of his semi onto the back of the flat bed. Once he landed he let smoke fly out of his mouth and nose as he swung his mace around his head. He had painted white bones, stark against his dark skin. Chups snarled to show his one sharpened tooth as his faction banged on drums attached to their ATVs. His mace had opened to show a bright red diamond, his crown jewel which he then placed back into the center of the silver skull in front of his 3-wheeled motorbike. Chups was always one for showing off.
“Wonderful!,” the hologram started, “Last but of course not least, we have TeeeeemTwooo!” she yelled with her hands around her mouth and bending over. The cameras panned over to the East showing the twins, Jessie and Kris. Kris lay on their back across the front of their car, fingering the thick chain that attached from Kri’s door to Jessie’s passenger side. Jessie leaned against their hood, playing with a toothpick in their mouth. They looked over to Kris and with matching smiles, put up 3 fingers eliciting a roar from their faction. There were about 12 total, 2 rows, 6 each on motorcycles behind each car, each person adjourned with several chains around their wrists that they slammed against one another.
Kris took a long draw from the rolled up cigarette in their other hand before jumping up and putting their rusty goggles on and climbing into the driver’s seat. Their patched, studded vest swayed to the side to show their scars and several tattoos. Jessie did the same, shaking their bright pink side cut before placing their gas mask back on and getting into the adjoining car.
“Fabulous!” the hologram announced as she bounced again, “Who’s ready!? You know how this works everyone, we count down, you rev up.” She glitched and then appeared with a cow tagger in her holographic hands, “Tag the other faction’s leader with a BB-note and they’reee outta here!” The tagger disappeared and a list popped up next to her, “Rules! Number one, the last 8 leaders left without a tag will be able to choose from the lovely 16 engineers in our surveytion room! Number two, if you leave the arena before the last 8 are left… well we all saw Ol’Garrow! Number three, no taggin’, killin’, mutilatin’, or any atin’ until you reach checkpoint one for each of your factions.” She threw two peace signs up and continued, “Finally, have fun!” she threw her hands up, the list disappearing and her demeanor becoming stern, “Please turn on your fun buttons now.”
Everyone in the stadium turned the tiny smiley face buttons that were pinned onto them on, making sure the green glow was present before looking back up to the announcer. “Awesome!” she rang, back in her joyous demeanor before cutting out. Then the numbers flashed on the projectors, “10,9,8,7..” the stadium was dead quiet save for the booming engines, the games were about to begin.
#postapocalyptic #battleroayle #sciencefiction #wasteland
The Creation of Torvia Pt. 2: Fare and Fein, the Guardians of Tor
Fein and Fare named their love Tor or Torvia (depending on who you ask). The two watched over the creatures that played and pranced in the lands falling more and more in love with it everyday. Though as they kept watch, a small tinge of jealousy had struck within Fein. As they watched for years, Fein became engrossed with the idea of a physical existence, desiring all of its ways. The way the creatures would dance and graze, the way they would eat and sleep under the stars (far descendants of Mayoi). The creatures that roamed around on the earth were celestial animals, the Bhrana and the Omai.
A quick word on the beings that inhabited Torivia. Many of the things that are on Torvia in today’s age are not living but empty bodies of the spirits. Things such as most plants, dirt, ice and such are included. The celestial animals were the direct ancestors of the animals that wander Torvia today. They were spiritually closer to the Lye and processed greater ability in running, jumping, etc. The Bhrana and the Omai were the direct descendants of Yanna and Thrir. Though the lovers had once created Torvia together as one, they took pride in creating their own things as well. The mortal things they were most proud of creating and had brought upon Torvia were the two groups of what we would call people (Bhrana and Omai). The Bhrana were created by Yanna to be proud, bright, and powerful beings. Identified with their stout figures and large horns protruding from the front or sides of the head. They were usually lighter skinned and took to the Great Mountains of the East. The Omai, created by Thrir, were softer and gentler people. They were light on their feet and had slim frames; their long strided ears extending sometimes to lengths of 20 centimeters would pick up many noises that may indicate danger or pleasure. It was said that they could walk so lightly that they may glide upon the air. They were usually darker skinned as they spent many days under the sun dancing to their melodies.
Oh how Fein wished to join them and gaze up at the vast sky rather than gaze down, oh! How it must feel to see every possibility above you! What is owning everything if there was nothing to do with it? One day, after experimenting with his own being, Fein disguised himself as an elk and ascended upon Torvia. Fein blended in deceptively well and for a day he felt what it was like to be physical, to be mortal. Upon returning to the skys, Fare was not happy, spirits were not to interact with the mortal beings they had once seen or created themselves. Fein became enraged at this notion, arguing that there was nothing wrong with his deeds. Fare warned her brother that they did not know what could come from such a thing as interacting with the mortal realm. Fein did not listen to Fare’s warning and proceeded to visit almost daily.
Soon enough he noticed that his arms started to swell and his legs began to turn to stone ever so slowly. He hid his ailments from Fare and continued with his journeys. Fare knew of Fein leaving and how it must be affecting him, she noticed Fein becoming more fatigued as the days continued. One day she caught a hold of Fein before his descent to Torvia. As she begged him to stay in the heavens with her Fare noticed his arms, Feins arms and legs started to crack and wither like old stone. The once bright golden skin had started to turn gray and pale. She looked up at him full of sadness, “Do not-” she started as Fein ripped his appendage away from her grasp and flew down to Torvia. Fare begane to cry, her tears so big and wet covered the earth in the first rain. She cried until the stars came out and shone upon the earth. With the calming light of the blue stars Fare looked down upon Torvia where she saw her brother’s small frame, stiff and gray. She descended upon Torvia as her original being only smaller and wrapped her arms around the ever stiffening body of Fein. With a swift motion, Fare split her soul and placed one half within the mouth of her brother. Now half thing half God they descended back up to the heavens where they manifested into the two moons. Forever shining bright and close, looking down upon their love.
#fantasy #fantasycreature #creationstory #fairies #elves #Torvia
Torvia: The Breaking of the Spine
Behind the river Kama, inside the Great Spine Mountains, there is a valley. Relatively small to the vast heights of the mountains, this valley contains the ancient Drônlen people, those akin to the dragons that live within the Spine.The Drônlen hold this valley and in turn the valley protects them. The Drônlen were a very proud and protective people, not letting strangers in too kindly onto their sacred lands.
Though young in age, the Overseer’s son, Araleth knew all the ins and outs of the mountains that surrounded the valley. At glance, one would not suspect him to be of royal blood as Araleth and his twin sister Ono would explore the large caves and jagged peaks that resided within the grand mountains.
It was his 12th birthday the day they found a single strand of white distinctly embedded in Araleth’s pitch black bed of hair. This was early for a Drônlen as they usually reach maturity around age 25. Two years later is when Ono's long curly red strand fell right in front of her face signifying her Alm.
Around their maturity, a Drônlen’s hair will start replacing itself with either straight locks void of any colour or with wild ginger curls. Those with the curls are regarded as Almrônd, as they carry a piece of Alm within them and may harness it in extensive training. The Alm being a “fire” within a person. This Alm is what is found within the dragons, it is what gives them their fire and their power. This training eventually allows them to harness the power of the dragons. On the other side are the Len, those with white locks do not have this power and never will.
Although there are no social repercussions for being Almrônd or Len, Araleth felt the weight of his status. Being Len meant living half the life Ono would as Almrônd live around 300 years to Len's 150. This also meant he would not be next in line for Overseer. The fact he was not Overseer did not bother him but the thought of leaving his sister alone with that title did. This fact did not weigh so heavily until they were both 25 and their hair, and in turn their fate, were fully noticeable.
Ono started her training quickly after her 15th birthday once two full chunks of curls framed around her face. Araleth always thought he would be Almrônd. All those years playing with the small dragons in the caves and dancing around the fires at the nightly rituals felt so close to him, he felt like that was where he was meant to be but alas the wretched hair that sat upon his head signaled a different truth. He would often sneak to watch Ono in her training and would emulate the things she would do in secret.
Title: Torvia: The Breaking of the Spine
Age Range: YA-Adult
Word Count: TBA, couple chapters down already.
My project is hopefully a new fantasy world one can dive into and insert themselevs. The first book will be an adventure of Araleth in fidning his sister Ono, captured by dark King Sammon. This story will parallel to the story of Reagan, a barbarian warrior of the Bhrana tribe who has been blessed with wings made of light but bound to a peculiar chain around her ankle made of unbreakable metal. How will their story intertwine? Who is the dark King and why does he want Ono? Who are the ravage warriors whose eyes glow red and mouths leak of crimson liquid? Who else will they meet along the way? All will be answered. There will be many different main characters so that people from many backgrounds may be able to relate to. In this world of Torvia there are many races of creatures from calssicsd such as eleves, mages, humans to other new ones like Dronlen, and Bhrana. I am currently a History student and about to go into a grad program. I love everything fanatsy and spend free time emulating fantasy stories with real life medieval history. I have books and books bound full of lore for this world of Torvia and want to see it all put together.
The Creation of Torivia
Once there was only space and in that space occupied the Lye: Yanna and Thrir, the embodiment of Light and Matter respectively and the original lovers. Together they danced in perfect unison as sparks illuminated from the soles of their feet. From those sparks The Children emerged; Frenna, Ka, and Mayoi; Water, Wind, and Music. Together they all thrived in the nothingness dancing to the sweet sounds of Mayoi. Until one day with their frivolous ways, Ka and Mayoi in secret created a sibling, the Fire Alm. Crafted from the flesh of Mayoi and the breath of Ka, young Alm could not be bound to the simple ways in which the others lived and a deep sadness took over Alm’s being. Thrir saw how troubled the little flame was and together with Yanna created the earth, Torivia, a place in which everyone could play and dance freely among new and exciting things.
Frenna took to this new place very quickly and pressed themselves against much of the earth, creating the oceans. Being very quiet and reserved, Frenna unintentionally secluded herself from everyone else. Occupied with such new and wonderful things, the others did not trouble themselves with Frenna. Frenna, taking notice, started to feel the weight of her loneliness. The once calm stillness of the oceans became filled with large thrashing waves fueled by Frenna’s distress. Frenna decided to create her own kin and thus from her pain the first daughter and the first son was created, Fare and Fein. (These two would later become the two moons of Torvia.) Though Frenna’s children filled her heart, the oceans sometimes remember Frenna’s immense loneliness and turn to storm.
The Lye and The Children quickly started creating more and more until the earth was filled with life. Every creation took more and more of a physical form until the creatures that are seen on the earth, the ones that have roamed the earth for the past three and two thousand years, were created. One should note that everything created after Fein and Fare were to be mortal physical beings or things to fill the earth. After many years, the Lye and The Children do not interact with this land anymore; it is said that they roam the vast nothingness creating things and stuff to fill the eternal void, their work never to be completed. The day they left marks the day in which the calendar starts for the people of Toriva. Fein and Fare though became so attached to the earth that they decided to stay behind to watch over all the things they fell so in love with, turning into the two moons over the land. The Lye and The Children never came back to the first lands they created but some claim that Frenna visits every so often to see her beloved Fein and Fare, the only things created by her own hands.
This is a little intro to the religon that is present within a novel I am trying to write. This is all for fun so feedback is appreciated as I am sure there is much to improve on. :)
#fantasy #oc #creation
Today really isn’t Day one. It happened about a week ago; though I embarrassingly admit, I already am having a hard time keeping up with the dates without being able to just turn my phone over and check. Thus, I have decided to just log my days as they come with this journal. So much has happened and I want to write so much but I am finding it quite hard to do so without being able to just turn my music on and let the words pour out of me. For now they feel stuck, we all feel stuck.
This is my attempt to write.
Things are getting better these days. People seem to be settling down. In the first week there were so many riots and such in the city that one could see the glow of pyres for miles at night. Speaking of, now that there is no light during the evenings, the stars are amazing. They are so bright and bountiful, I never realized just how many there seemed to be.
We started a group. I am not quite sure who started it but so far we are about 7. We hope to meet a few more in the coming days. Finding a settlement also has posed some trouble. At first we all stayed in our houses but the houses started to feel so far away without our old quick ways of communication. Sending letters though has a cute nostalgia to it.
Today I met a Geologist who took a careful record of the days on his calendar. He told me the date was February 21st and I am very much inclined to believe him. He offered his house for all of us to stay in. A stately manor I call a mansion. My friend Jonsey tells me I am over qualifying the size and state of the house but I still say it is a mansion.
February 27, 1AE
The sky is so beautiful, just like Abby. She joined our clan here a few days ago. Her eyes shine so bright... I could write so many things about her but I will save it. Tonight I invited her to have her dinner with me on top of the balcony of the Doctor’s house. Wish me luck.
We found an abandoned apartment building which will easily house all 32 of us. It’s hard to believe we are this many now. There are terrace gardens which will hopefully turn into some sort of farming for us. Food has been our biggest problem though not that great of one. Just as the world seems to be these days, everything here is peaceful. (BTW dinner went great!)
August 5, 2AE
It has been a year and a half. I thought I lost this journal. I think I had tried to hide it so well from others that it also deceived me. The world is green again. No one ever came for us, meaning government and such but it's nice here. Our chief Dr. Klansky is nice in all honesty. Though a little cold, he is smart and careful in his decisions. We have grown enough food not only to sustain but also to trade with surrounding clans. Which by the way, have been peaceful in relations. Abby is part of the peace committee, her degree in public relations seems to somehow still be put into good work these days. Though I would say it is her confidence that mostly helps during negotiations. I, meanwhile, teach the school children. During evenings we meet up again and read under candle light in our apartment. The candles flicker at night still gets me and I can’t help but feel a sort of romance to it all these days. We barely even think of the world before anymore… maybe that's why I forgot about this journal. Life is moving on.