quasar

[worldofquasar]

Wanderlust

During her sojourn in Pamira, Sizari visited the Arena every day. She had been traveling for two months already, and the Arena reminded her of home. It wasn't the action she was looking for, but rather the brief moments of inaction in between clashes of Pamiran gladiators in dazzling garb. Those moments played out in slow motion, allowing the remnants of sound and color to wash from the center stage all the way to the far corners of the Arena, just as the rough waves crashed against the rocky cliffs in her homeland. There was a brief lull in the rhythmic cheers of the majority-Pamiran crowd, their bodies and voices rising and falling like the erratic winds on top of the Stela Cliffs.

[worldofquasar]

Craterbase

Cannzinn never questioned why they were digging a deep hole in an already deep hole, for it was the nature of the Helmans to do so. Twelve hours in Minebase, every day, was his calling. Cannzinn's right arm, not flesh like the rest of his body, but crackling purple energy, broke the rock while someone else with a shovel-arm (he never bothered asking his name) scooped up the large pieces of debris.

Every twenty minutes he would take a short break. He would sit on a convenient boulder and mold his energy arm into something like a mop but with wriggling feelers at its ends. The feeler-arm would crawl around the stony floor, absorbing the fine stone dust into Cannzinn's body. The dust rejuvenated him, as it did to all other Helmans. In another faraway city the children processed the dust first, breaking the fine dust into finer quons and reshaping it into 'edible' food, as though stone dust itself weren't edible.

Down and down Cannzinn went. It was a day just like any other.

[worldofquasar]

Choose your own adventure : 1

Standing in front of Esthartia's front door, you begin to hesitate. Following two days of her absence, the Geometer has requested you to pay a visit to your neighbor. Held in your trembling fingers is the passkey to her door that the Geometer gave you, otherwise inaccessible to someone of your rank.

Searching through your memories you realize that the only fact you have of Esthartia is that she is your neighbor, and nothing more. You can barely imagine her appearance. You scarcely recall ever bumping into her in the corridors. Adding another statement to the list of known facts about Esthartia, she is someone who kept everything to herself.

You snap back from your daze as soon as you perceived an inaudible click coming from the door, and in a fraction of a second her cell was laid bare in front of you. You must have activated the passkey unconsciously. Rather, it is the smell emanating from inside the room that made you recover your senses. It is the cold, stinging, metallic smell of at least two thousand half-molten shapes that cover the floor of her cell. Judging from the shapes, she had been trying to craft the same object that many times, each time ending in failure.

"Es- Esthartia? You there, sister?" you call, choking a little from the metallic tang assaulting your nose and throat, a little uncertain if you actually expect an answer. Surely enough there is none. You begin to worry about your neighbor's safety. Do you:

- Attempt to find her buried somewhere under the thousands of objects, or

- Report to the Geometer about the status of her cell, or

- Run away without looking back, and apply to be transferred to another Quadrant?

[worldofquasar]

Bonn's journal, Entry #413

11.31nt. Weather is clear. Cloud cover uncertain. Temperature cool. Humidity bearable. 

I have set up camp next to a shallow creek. The water is cool and refreshing, though not deep enough for me to wash myself, so I only splashed water onto my face and arms. The air smells slightly woody and the surroundings are quiet. I believe I can get some sleep here.

The second day of my venture into the Sylva Proxima has been relatively uneventful, which is why I could scribe this journal entry after setting up camp for the night. The previous day had presented itself as not just 'hectic' but in fact unyielding in throwing challenge after challenge at me. For easy reference:

- Look twice where you perch. Razorbee nests are camouflaged into tree bark. 

- Easiest way to avoid a burlodon ambush is to fly upwards. To watch: head. Razorbee nests. 

- Amberglue sap. Not fun. Again watch where you fly, even being in pursuit by angry oculot swarm.

- Knife is a bad way to free yourself from amberglue. To consult sister after going home.

Hopes for tomorrow: Stay out of danger. Study and sketch tame animal from a distance. I am very in need of stories that don't involve shaming myself in front of the girls.

Good night.

[worldofquasar]

Beginnings

Green grass. The girl in red registered its softness as she trod upon it in small steps, her toes rubbing each gentle blade. She looked at her surroundings; nothing but grass; grass, grass everywhere. An endless ocean of grass, stretching as far as the eye can see, and then some more. The girl in red brought her field of vision to something closer: the boy in black, sitting next to her, cross-legged. There was a captivating calmness in his jet-black irides, turning about his eyes focusing on something above him. The girl in red followed his gaze; it was the boy in white, soaring in the sky upon his white-and-gold wings, whooping on the top of his lungs – oh, so it wasn't the sound of the wind, she thought.