clique
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This is just a personal thread to drop the shadows of ideas, sporadic thoughts, character concepts, mindless musings, and writing samples.
Other shades of blue • mikey
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clique
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A thunderous knock woke him at the darkest point of the early morning. In bed, he froze, the duvet compressed between curled fingers. Exhaustion had not yet left the sprite, and he wished to will himself to continue his rest. Pinned eyes shut tighter. He steadied his breathing and thought of nothing. As still as the air before a storm, Valin remained, waiting, and waiting, and waiting. But sleep would not return.
Though it affixed him to his bed, the newfound gnawing anxiety kept him awake and alert. Furthermore, curiosity haunted, battling with his bemusement. Visitors at this hour were uncommon. Despite himself, he wondered who it could be.
A moment passed. Another knock – louder than the first. And then another, until there was an endless succession of knocking and it became apparent that his visitor had no intention of being ignored or leaving. More and more, Valin found himself pondering the identity of the disturbance. To disrupt his hibernation was to commit an act of the devil, and that alone gave ammunition to the belief that it was not someone who knew him well. He felt little inclination to assist a stranger. But the incessant knocking; they brawled and bothered and persisted with the familiarity of an obtrusive parent, or a meddlesome friend.
Slowly, Valin peeled the covers from his form and lifted himself off the bed. On the oaken nightstand beside him sat a candle in its brass holder. With a snap of his fingers, it blazed. He brought the light with him when he left the room.
Moonlight cast a dim glow through the parlour curtains. His plainly coloured furniture of murky browns and tepid greens seemed warmer as the blur of dusk and the soft shimmer of candlelight coalesced. He placed the candle onto the small table in the centre of the room and moved to the door, wavering. The knocking ceased.
"I heard your footsteps," said the voice on the other side. It was deep; the timbre reminded him of an earthquake, the low rumbling of a world splitting in half. It was also, he noted, unfamiliar. Valin's eyes narrowed.
"I know you're in there," the voice persisted. "Let me in!"
"With that sort of entitlement, not to mention how utterly noisy you've been, I don't think I will," Valin responded. "People are still asleep, you know." His ire had been sparked. Furthermore, the abrasive nature of the hammering at the door and the tone of speech made Valin nearly certain that this was not someone he could allow in his home. He pictured a hulking mass of brawn, a giant perhaps?
Tentative steps carried him to the window and he pinched the edge of the curtain between his thumb and forefinger. Mustering subtlety, he inched back the fabric slowly, carefully, and chanced a quick glance through the window.
Valin deflated in relief. It was merely a man. His courage revived, he pulled the curtain completely so that the pair could face each other.
"Now, who exactly are you?" he asked the mortal. Valin made sure his hand was in view as each digit lit up like a matchstick, warm fire floating at his fingertips.
Though it affixed him to his bed, the newfound gnawing anxiety kept him awake and alert. Furthermore, curiosity haunted, battling with his bemusement. Visitors at this hour were uncommon. Despite himself, he wondered who it could be.
A moment passed. Another knock – louder than the first. And then another, until there was an endless succession of knocking and it became apparent that his visitor had no intention of being ignored or leaving. More and more, Valin found himself pondering the identity of the disturbance. To disrupt his hibernation was to commit an act of the devil, and that alone gave ammunition to the belief that it was not someone who knew him well. He felt little inclination to assist a stranger. But the incessant knocking; they brawled and bothered and persisted with the familiarity of an obtrusive parent, or a meddlesome friend.
Slowly, Valin peeled the covers from his form and lifted himself off the bed. On the oaken nightstand beside him sat a candle in its brass holder. With a snap of his fingers, it blazed. He brought the light with him when he left the room.
Moonlight cast a dim glow through the parlour curtains. His plainly coloured furniture of murky browns and tepid greens seemed warmer as the blur of dusk and the soft shimmer of candlelight coalesced. He placed the candle onto the small table in the centre of the room and moved to the door, wavering. The knocking ceased.
"I heard your footsteps," said the voice on the other side. It was deep; the timbre reminded him of an earthquake, the low rumbling of a world splitting in half. It was also, he noted, unfamiliar. Valin's eyes narrowed.
"I know you're in there," the voice persisted. "Let me in!"
"With that sort of entitlement, not to mention how utterly noisy you've been, I don't think I will," Valin responded. "People are still asleep, you know." His ire had been sparked. Furthermore, the abrasive nature of the hammering at the door and the tone of speech made Valin nearly certain that this was not someone he could allow in his home. He pictured a hulking mass of brawn, a giant perhaps?
Tentative steps carried him to the window and he pinched the edge of the curtain between his thumb and forefinger. Mustering subtlety, he inched back the fabric slowly, carefully, and chanced a quick glance through the window.
Valin deflated in relief. It was merely a man. His courage revived, he pulled the curtain completely so that the pair could face each other.
"Now, who exactly are you?" he asked the mortal. Valin made sure his hand was in view as each digit lit up like a matchstick, warm fire floating at his fingertips.
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