Shotgun Opera
03-18-08, 04:15 PM
Partially solo/closed. If you really want in, my AIM is KnottyEarthMama
The morning came with a sense of foreboding, and as her daughter helped check her armor for brittle spots, Cillia couldn’t help but dwell on the coming journey. So tangled in her thoughts was she that it took a sharp pinch on her arm before Cillia could force her attention back to the cecaelia before her. Moraia looked uncannily like her mother, though when her thick curls were shorn years ago they’d never grown back. Wisps of teal locks floated around her like a dark halo, her wide innocent eyes as angelic as the vision suggested. Now that gaze was locked in a form of annoyance, her brows furrowed and the ends of her thin tentacles cupped before Cillia’s face.
“Take this? I know your judgment is true. You may need it to find out what has happened.”
As Moraia’s fingers uncurled, Cillia reached inside, letting her own suckered arm slide across her daughter’s. Within the round suction cups, a cloth was curled. It seemed like a scrap of seal leather, smooth and dark, but once she touched it she knew that it was much more. She wondered where her daughter had come up with the items it must have taken to barter such a powerful enchantment from the cecaelia shaman. Surely the young octopian knew what was on her mind, because she discarded the cloth in her mother’s care and began to float away.
“I got it for my hair.” was her parting reply. For a while, Cillia sat upon the rock, staring upward. The sun danced on ripples above the surface, the orb of fire in the sky distorted and pulled out by the movement of the waves. Behind her, the cool current that wafted from the shadow of the submerged cliff-side catacombs was blowing against her back, and before her, the stretch of the ocean. The blue got dark that side, as deeper the floor of the ocean dropped from the surface. She couldn’t help but feel that there was something lurking, waiting for her in that darkness.
A tentacle on her shoulder drew her attention away from the deeper blue, where another soldier, Anaem, floated restlessly. His trident was held at the ready, the venom on the anemone that grew along the ends seeping out as they felt is mood through the touch on his weapon. She nodded at him, and followed as he began to swim towards the others who were collected around the current that would take them to the muddy shore. The scrap of cloth that had been given to her was clenched tightly in a tentacle, her look determined.
Cillia only spared one look back into the abyss of the ocean’s depths, and something was staring back.
The morning came with a sense of foreboding, and as her daughter helped check her armor for brittle spots, Cillia couldn’t help but dwell on the coming journey. So tangled in her thoughts was she that it took a sharp pinch on her arm before Cillia could force her attention back to the cecaelia before her. Moraia looked uncannily like her mother, though when her thick curls were shorn years ago they’d never grown back. Wisps of teal locks floated around her like a dark halo, her wide innocent eyes as angelic as the vision suggested. Now that gaze was locked in a form of annoyance, her brows furrowed and the ends of her thin tentacles cupped before Cillia’s face.
“Take this? I know your judgment is true. You may need it to find out what has happened.”
As Moraia’s fingers uncurled, Cillia reached inside, letting her own suckered arm slide across her daughter’s. Within the round suction cups, a cloth was curled. It seemed like a scrap of seal leather, smooth and dark, but once she touched it she knew that it was much more. She wondered where her daughter had come up with the items it must have taken to barter such a powerful enchantment from the cecaelia shaman. Surely the young octopian knew what was on her mind, because she discarded the cloth in her mother’s care and began to float away.
“I got it for my hair.” was her parting reply. For a while, Cillia sat upon the rock, staring upward. The sun danced on ripples above the surface, the orb of fire in the sky distorted and pulled out by the movement of the waves. Behind her, the cool current that wafted from the shadow of the submerged cliff-side catacombs was blowing against her back, and before her, the stretch of the ocean. The blue got dark that side, as deeper the floor of the ocean dropped from the surface. She couldn’t help but feel that there was something lurking, waiting for her in that darkness.
A tentacle on her shoulder drew her attention away from the deeper blue, where another soldier, Anaem, floated restlessly. His trident was held at the ready, the venom on the anemone that grew along the ends seeping out as they felt is mood through the touch on his weapon. She nodded at him, and followed as he began to swim towards the others who were collected around the current that would take them to the muddy shore. The scrap of cloth that had been given to her was clenched tightly in a tentacle, her look determined.
Cillia only spared one look back into the abyss of the ocean’s depths, and something was staring back.