Dandelyon's Worlds

This weekend is the Torn World Muse Fusion (if you are so inclined, we'd love to get your questions or topic suggestions, whether they are specific to Torn World or just inspiration in general).

To Ellen's prompt, Tidepool Memories, I wrote this piece. They live in the arctic of a world that includes sea monsters and other dangers. Ivara is featured in a number of other stories over at www.tornworld.net.

Torn World is crowdfunded; this story is my freebie glimpse at the world for this weekend's Muse Fusion.

Tidepool Memories

Ruvardu sat by the ocean, listening to the waves. Her toes rested in a pleasantly warm tidepool. She had a bowl of red beans in her lap, and her fingers worked clumsily at the once-easy task of separating the rich beans from the bitter husks. The stroke that had stolen the cleverness from her fingers had not taken her ability to enjoy the sun and water on her skin. She looked up to see Ivara hang a gutted fish onto the smoking rack and set her knife down to stand and stretch.

For just a moment, Ivara looked stiff, like an old lady, like Ruvardu herself, but then she twirled and did a few dance steps, her long hair sailing around her like a shawl. She looked so young, dancing with Reqem on the big drum, their feet pounding out the rhythms of young lust. Ruvardu danced too, but not on the drum, she was more interested in flirting with Firl and drinking beer. The combination made her giggle, and the firelight shimmered like the ocean, and her toes were wet with spilled beer. “Oh, that was a night!” She opened her eyes, and saw a tiny fish in the tidepool nibbling at her toes. She could barely feel the soft fish lips against her skin. “You and Reqem were so beautiful dancing on the drum.” Her words were blurred, but she knew Ivara would understand.

Ivara danced over and bent to make sure Ruvardu’s shawl was tucked close around her. “You and Firl were beautiful too.”

Ruvardu laughed. “We were silly and drunk. To hear you talk, all new-adults are beautiful. Just like all babies are beautiful.”

“Well, they are.” Ivara smiled, and sank gracefully to the sand, picking up her knife again. She reached for a fish, humming an old tune. A pregnant young woman came by with a basket of new-caught fish and poured them into the basket next to Ivara. “Who was that Itakith woman?”

Ivara didn’t answer; she sat there with one hand on her swollen belly, then reached for Ruvardu’s hand to place it there. Inside, the baby-to-be was moving, and Ruvardu caught her breath. Her own pregnancy wasn’t as far along. So far, all she could feel was a tickle, a sensation in her gut like beer felt on her tongue, tingly and intoxicating.

The woman from Itakith leaned forward, her brown hair falling over her shoulders. “Can I see too?”

Ivara pulled her shirt up, and they all saw the shape of a foot pressing out, to one side of her distended belly button. The woman reached out her hand, hesitantly.

“Of course.” Ivara nodded.

The other woman put her hand on Ivara’s belly and then laughed. “The baby is so—so alive!” She reached back to lift up her own shirt and bare her own brown belly, which was only starting to swell. “Will I see my baby’s foot like that?”

“Probably.” The old mother-tender set a bowl of fresh fruit and greens in front of her charges. “But every baby is different. Some move a lot, while others seem content to sleep all through a pregnancy.” She smiled, her wrinkles moving on her face like grass in the wind. Ruvardu wanted to thank her, but her mind was as stiff as her old fingers.

“I can’t remember their names.” Ruvardu looked down at her belly, finding it old and flat and full of a bowl of red beans. She had forgotten the beans again, and so she reached into the bowl to pick up another, squeezing it to split the hull and free the beans.

“That’s nothing to worry about.” Ivara sounded sad. Ivara so rarely sounded sad, but there were times. There had been so much blood, the day the whalebear surprised her little son, Firuu, on the beach. She had screamed and threw rocks at it, and Ivara snatched up a fishing spear and charged the bear, snarling like a snowcat.

The bear clamped its jaws around the boy’s leg, and Ivara darted in, pushing her spear into the thing’s chest. Teeth still clammped, it roared, loud enough that Ruvardu couldn’t hear her own screams, and swiped at Ivara, who danced away and then back again, over and over. Finally, as Reqem ran up with a heavy hunting spear, Ivara sunk the fishing spear deep into the creature’s eye and it collapsed.

Reqem pried the bear’s jaws off of the boy, but it was too late. He was hanging limp from the monster’s jaw, and not breathing. Where he wasn’t covered in blood—his and the bear’s—his skin was too pale. Reqem laid the boy, blood and all, in Ruvardu’s arms. Tears fell silently from her eyes, her grief too strong for sound.

“Firuu—“ She choked it out, and was shocked, again, to hear how blurred and frail her voice was. She couldn’t even say the name of her firstborn properly any more, and that made her cry even harder.

Suddenly, Ivara was there, holding Ruvardu, humming a different tune now. They had made this tune together, when Ruvardu’s first grandchild was born. Varlii had wanted to travel to Itrelir, to be with the baby’s father for the birth, and Ivara and Ruvardu had accompanied her on the journey. They should have reached Itrelir a month before the birth, but the baby was impatient, and Varlii had gone into labor on the trail.

Ruvardu had been so scared for her daughter. They didn’t have a healer with them—what if something went wrong? But Ivara kept them telling stories and singing tunes until the baby came, such a perfect, tiny girl she was, all red and wrinkled and hungry. They camped by a small lake for a tenday, Ruvardu setting traps and Ivara tending them and gathering firewood. The lake was so beautiful, and so were her daughter and granddaughter. Ivara was right. New-adults and new babies were all beautiful.

Ruvardu tried to sing along with Ivara, but since the stroke, she couldn’t hold a tune. She smiled at Ivara. “You can sing for the baby.”

Ivara patted wetness from her cheeks, nodding. Ruvardu looked up—was it raining? The sky was clear, except for a few Others floating far above, out over the ocean. It must be just the surf. She asked Ivara, “Dance for me?”

Ivara looked sad, though she smiled at Ruvardu. “I will always dance for you.” She tucked the shawl tighter around her age-mate and stood to whirl and leap in the sand at the edge of the waves.

It's Muse Fusion time, despite overtime and the TV breaking for no reason and other things that trouble my ability to tune out the real world and concentrate on creating an imaginary one. But still, I got something done and will now retire to dream up the next story! You're welcome to stop by and leave a silly prompt or three http://torn-world.livejournal.com/149893.html (or, I suppose, some serious prompts, if you want).  In the meantime, here's the first draft of my Muse Fusion freebie this month:


Ties
A Torn World poem by Deirdre Murphy


The night had been clear, stars sparkled overhead.
Akaalekirth and Lereterli hung hammocks outside
To watch the moons and the stars wheel overhead
And to tell each other outrageous stories
Without waking the baby.

They fell asleep, breathing sweet air
Scented by rainforest flowers and fruits.
Suddenly, the earth shook the huge hometrees
Fuchsia Tribe’s houses creaked, waking parents
to comfort wailing children.

Akaalekirth felt her hammock quiver around her
She could hear human and animal sounds of alarm
“What’s happening?” Her voice shook.
“Earthquake” Lerleterli answered.
“Tie your hammock closed.”

Akaalekirth reached for the ties, paused
“Shouldn’t we head to the ground?”
Rreisali poked her head out the window
“Orlano is going to look at the ocean—
You girls stay put!”

It took a long time to knot the thick fibers
But Akaalekirth obediently tied rope after rope
Suddenly, she laughed—when had she stopped rebelling?
Of course, she mused, this family offered her
Respect and welcome.

“What’s so funny?” Lereterli sounded annoyed.
“I didn’t even ask why, I just tied myself in.”
Akaalekirth laughed again. “I wasn’t like that before.”
Lereterli hissed, “Hush—do you hear that?”
It was just surf—but too loud!

“When it comes, hold your breath!”
Akaalekirth breathed in to ask for an explanation
Then the water was there, filling the air
Their home tree shook and bent,
She had no time to scream.

The water pulled Akaalekirth against the knots
And then back again, trying to drag her to sea
In the surge, one of the strong new ropes broke
The water rushed back out of the rainforest.
It left her hanging upside down.

She was soaked, with rope burns all over.
The house was ruined, half of it gone to sea.
“Lereterli?” Akaalekirth twisted to find the other hammock—
Had her new sister survived the flood?
And Rreisali and the baby?

Then she heard the baby coughing
She started to swing and turn in the hammock
The motion made her stomach feel sick
But it let her see her sister, her family, safe
Except Lereterli’s father.

Lereterli was curled like a lizard in her hammock.
Rreisali was tied to the trunk of the hometree
Her beautiful hair tangled like a mask over her face.
She stroked the baby’s face through the netting
That held him to her.

Akaalekirth realized the sun was rising.
The light glinted off of fish stranded in the treetops
And several trees over, a tentacled monster thrashed,
Breaking tree limbs and shattering a bridge
As it bled to death.

While Akaalekirth hung upside down
Lereterli untied her hammock and then her mother
Orlano returned with more of the tribe.
He had many cuts and his left arm was splinted,
But at least he was alive.

“Good thing you all stayed in the tree,” Orlano smiled,
“If you were down there, you could have been drowned
Or swept to sea.” She asked, “Does this happen often?”
“No. Maybe once in a generation,” he said, then frowned.
“But it happened last year.”

Akaalekirth was very glad when they got her free,
The fresh fish and drowned goose feast cheered her too.
But not even the prospect of monster for dinner
Could please her as much as being sure
Her chosen family was safe.



If you want to read more stories about these two girls, look here: http://www.tornworld.net/fiction.php?id=26

I got home and opened up the computer to spend a couple of minutes looking at my email, playing silly games and de-stressing before turning to the Muse Fusion and starting to write. To my delight, in my email was a notice of a comment on one of my stories over at Torn World. It doesn't matter how many comments I get, it always cheers my day to get a new one.

That was a great present to get just as the Muse Fusion is starting.That was, of course, a while ago. And now I have a new story about Lalya, clothes, and a torn world holiday known as Acorn Day. There's a snippet from the story over at the Muse Fusion site. ellenmillion has also shared a snippet of a story and a whole poem she wrote to one of my prompts! ysabetwordsmith has written some poetry too.

I hope you'll stop by and leave some prompts to inspire us at http://torn-world.livejournal.com/131706.html

The Muse Fusion has started! It’s over [Poll #1862289]

It’s easy to sponsor the story—just link to the Muse Fusion (http://torn-world.livejournal.com/116759.html) in your blog, your facebook, your twitter or other appropriate public internet space, and then stop back here to give me a link to your link. I reserve the right to count linkbacks I find out about in some other way, but I won’t be out looking for them. I’ll be getting ready for Worldcon and writing/drawing.

And probably visiting the hospice again. I have a friend who I’ve always really liked, but our schedules never meshed. Still, I always thought that someday…well, there won’t be a someday. She was very recently discovered to have stage four lung cancer, and I just heard about it this week.

I know nobody can do everything they want to do. There’s always more friends to see, more stories to write, more songs to sing, more of everything worth doing than there is time to do those things in. This lady has always been one of the most alive people I know—I believe she lived her life well and fully. But still, she should have many years left to be the wonderful, vital person she’s always been, instead of a just few more days or hours to be with her friends and family. The news hit me hard.

So, I forgot all about posting a poll, thinking instead about roads not taken, and remembering that you never know how short life will prove to be.

Rowyn is doing Tarot Card Stories and is looking for questions/situations/characters to help inspire them.

The Torn World Muse Fusion is this weekend.  I'd love some questions/prompts relating to things that are unique to Torn World -- time crystals, the Upheaval, Others, the Sundered Times, etc.

Now I should put the rest of the milk away and get writing!

I know I've talked about the Muse Fusion, invited you all to stop by and leave prompts, or perhaps join in, write along with us. And, admittedly, the Muse Fusion comes to mind in part because it's this weekend.

But I thought I'd do something different today, and try to give you a little insight as to what a Muse Fusion is like for me.

It's magic.

Not the flashy magic you see in so many fantasy books, but magic just the same. I take a rested me (or as rested as I can manage, anyway, given that life happens), and a blank computer screen, and set myself free to play with the toys you send me.

Now I find myself yawning, so I'd better head to bed. But feel free to ask questions!

I opened the Muse Fusion last night, did some writing, slept a Loooooong Time (which felt wonderful) and did some more writing.

Here's the snippets I've posted so far:


Ripples

The tall, handsome man in the dress smiled at Othan and then walked on, talking with the small Asataarla woman.

The boy turned to watch him walk. The silk was beautiful, and rippled with the man’s long stride. Othan watched as the two turned into an expensive restaurant. After an obvious double-take, the greeter led them to a table with obvious respect.

Othan dug into his pocket to count his cash. Three basic tokens and one precious coin. Not enough for a dress, even in the second-hand store. But he couldn’t stop thinking about it, the pale dress against the man’s very dark skin. He couldn’t help imagining what it would be like to have silk legs swishing around his legs like that—though his skin color, with its olive tones, would go better with a different color.

He put his tokens back in his pocket and headed in to the store, not really sure what he would do there, but the lure of the dresses had caught him, and he couldn’t resist.
...


Young Love

The young couple got off of the train, two tall, thin forms with carrot-bright hair, slender fingers twined together. The contrast of the Mayaloi-dark skin of the woman and the Irfai-pale skin of the other was striking. They looked around with wide eyes, and Jakei couldn’t tell if they were pulling together out of nervousness or love. She smiled, and thought, probably both.

“I didn’t think Mayaloi came with red hair.” Murruni murmured.

“They don’t. She must have other blood, unless that’s a dye job.”

“Can they get that color with dye?

Jakei shrugged, and tossed her long, golden hair, letting the metallic painted highlights flash in the moonlight. “Beats me. My hairdresser might know.” The Mayaloi woman’s eyes were drawn to the bright peacock-feather patterns painted in Jakei’s hair, and she leaned to her companion, whispering into her companion’s ear.

Beside Jakei, Murruni ran his hand over his bald, tattooed head, stretching to let his gently-sculpted muscles ripple. Like Jakei, he was painted, but his metallic paints were applied to his body, accenting the tattoos that scrolled around his body. “Care for a wager?”

“You really think they’ll have eyes for anyone but each other?”

“They’ll be disappointed if we don’t at least try.”

Smiling, they stepped forward to greet the young lovers. “Welcome to Affanumuur.”
...


Bead by Trelgon

They returned to the summer gather late; the sun was low over the hills and everyone was asleep. Dulsa and Trelgon quickly unloaded the baskets of fish from Fidget, then started draping them over the waiting poles in the smokehouse. Dulsa yawned hugely and repeatedly until Trelgon laughed. “You’re really tired,” he said. “Go on to bed. I’ll see you later.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Dulsa’s hand went to the carved fish in the center of her necklace. She felt very self-conscious about it—they’d been adults only a few months, and she hadn’t had very many beads there yet, but also she knew her younger sister, Freijali, had a crush on Trelgon. How would Freijali take seeing a bead carved in Trelgon’s distinctive style on her sister’s neck?

It was only a month—there was no serious romance between her and Telgon—but a month could seem like forever when you were almost adult and couldn’t court the object of your attraction yourself. Dulsa reached the large tent she shared with her age-set and her sister’s, still yawning. What was wrong with her? The day hadn’t been that strenuous!

She looked around and, to her relief, didn’t see Freijali. The house looked different too. It took Dulsa a minute to realize why—most of the people in the house were sleeping tandem. As she walked over to where her own furs were rolled, one of the few singletons rolled over, looked up, and hastily stood. It was Reivani. “Dulsa—you missed it!” His eyes were shining, though his voice was low.

“Missed what?”

“Our final test—and we passed!” Reivani stepped closer in the dimness of the tent, and he raised one hand toward her, cupped upward. “Would you—” his eyes dropped to her neck, and he stopped. “Oh. Um.”
...

I've got 1100 words into Bead By Trelgon so far. It's at a point where I could call it good or I could call it the end of the first act.  So sponsoring it will get the unapproved draft posted immediately.  The others aren't as close to finished, but I'll give priority to working on whatever gets sponsored first!

Want to read more? I'll work on whichever fragment(s) you tip me to work on, at a rate of at least 90 words per dollar or 1000 per $10 (by which I mean I reserve the right to write more than you pay for). You can tip me in Torn World Credits or use my tip hat at www.wyld-dandelyon.com. Just be sure to let me know which piece you're paying for.ring

I'll be posting more snippets this weekend, over at torn_world in the Muse Fusion post.  Sometime tomorrow or next week I'll also be sending private copies of each entire work in progress (as far as I've gotten, anyway) to the people who prompted them.  More prompts would be very welcome, and would get you a peek at the rough draft of anything your prompt inspires! 

I hope to see you there!

Now I'm off to write some more.

Since LJ is down, here's a reference copy of the prompts so far:

From Wyld_Dandelyon:  Prompts!
The latest fad among Affamarg teenagers.
The latest fad in Affanumuur (Shameless City).
Fashions for Toddlers

The coolest new toy

Invasive insects or rodents
Fossils (maybe living fossils?)
A soft-shell critter that's good eating, if you prepare it right
Tiny Relatives of the Jellyrigger

New "mystery art" -- Character portraits to be identified later (I'd love some Land Priestess art! A few of them are described in this story.)

From Ellenmillion:   Here are a few prompts before I head back to bed again:

A dangerous fad
Fashionably late
Exotic spice
Shoes in blue
Silk and summer lilies


From ysabetwordsmith:  Prompts

Image Prompts:
Here are some fashion colors, including the daffy names:
http://www.fashiontrendsetter.com/contents/main/2010/Pantone-Fall-2010-Colors.jpg
A collection of fancy necklines, without names so they can be given Southern ones:
http://worddreams.files.wordpress.com/2010/04/necklines.jpg
Pest control chart; it would be cool to have something like this for the South with a hole mouse, stickleg, half-leg, etc.
http://www.bedbug911.com/images/pest-chart.jpg
This artic food web would be wonderful if redone for the North:
http://amap.no/acia/Files/MarineFoodWeb_150.jpg
Tusk shells, a type of arctic sea shell:
http://www.arcodiv.org/seabottom/Scaphopoda.html

Title Prompts:
A Scarf the Color of Sunrise
The Perfect Dress
Designs on a Snow-Unicorn
The Patterns of Failure
For a Day

Text Prompts:
"I dare you to try it!"
An Ancient fad preserved in the remnants of the Ruined Port.
Songs that turn into earworms because they're so popular that everyone is singing them, and a week later everyone is sick of hearing them.
A new type of Ancient bead is discovered near Itakith, and everyone wants one, but there aren't enough to go around, so fights break out.
"Don't look at me. You know I never follow fashions."

ankewehner wrote:

Sticky Situation
Bright yellow and red
Courtship display

vaerys wrote:  Prompts

furshirt
clothes of mythology
a dress made from Rainbow forest plants
a simple banquet

So far, I have one finished piece for the Muse Fusion, a piece called Lizard, Lizard, which was the prompt. It's a sequel to So Many, Many Frogs, and the prompter has promised to sponsor it! Thanks Edward!



I'm very pleased with how this story turned out. Hopefully the canon board will agree!

In other news, I  have reglazed some windows, repainted some spots on the back door where the paint wore off, touched up the purple paint on the front porch, did some dishes, scraped some loose paint in a closet that needs a bit of plaster and paint, and My Angel and I resealed some spots around windows and a siding patch in the back yard.

It's not ideal interrupting the writing for paint and caulking, but the weather has finally decided to warn of winter coming, and every crack sealed should lower the heating bill a bit this winter.

I peeked in on the Muse Fusion last night, and left a few prompts, but I was awfully tired from my work week. I didn't get a story finished. However, I got a start on a new story about the characters in So Many, Many Frogs.

You are all welcome to stop by torn_world and leave us some prompts too!

I took a couple of minutes this morning to try to make one of those cool fund-raising tickers. I didn't figure it all out (how the heck do you get a cool background, for instance? Or a cool end-post for your goal?) but eventually decided I was wasting writing time. However, here's my initial effort:




If I make the first goal today, I'll set a new one for the rest of the weekend (and again, if necessary)--if I do, any suggestions as to what you'd like to see in addition to an extra free poem or drabble? (And where should I go out to dinner?)

If you're inclined to sponsor my work this weekend, I'll update the ticker. You can sponsor a particular piece or put funds into a general fund. I'll post a poll so everyone can vote as to what gets sponsored with the general fund.

But now, back to Lizard, Lizard.