Herein the curious tale of Melody and Twitch is told...
Melodious Silence: The night was warm, the air sweet and mild. This is what gave rise to the fact this night she was clad lightly in a flaxen loincloth rather than the heavy robes of winter, a sight that would surely be more common in warmer days to come. Fireflies flickered and danced glimmering illuminations of pulsing life, poetry in motion and seemingly centered around the very still forestling. Eyes were closed, though not in sleep as she sat. Her back was pressed to the trunk of an aged yew and there where she sat the grass around her seemed more vigorous and vibrant.
a four star failure: It started as a hum, an earthen, low cicada-call it could have been but it was driven by the spoke and the gear and the spring and it was written in the electric song of Aether; that ever-something what fueled the clock-work and the cogs. He was a sparkling distant thing there where the moonlight just braved, sprinkled lovingly with dew, dressed in dark, soil-browns. The humming became ticking and the ticking became clicking and the very pulse of him was a rampant march, the flourishing of? whirring steel and focusing glass and the steady upbeat of the flicker of bits that weren't quite man sang his story. Twitch awoke beneath heavy moss tendrils."
Melodious Silence: Tendrils ah yes those tiny things that crept and curled, though those that wound little spirals around the forestling's long toes were of another sort. Dainty and frail they wound convoluted paths along velvet furred feet, the tiny white flowers that dotted them in full bloom in spite of the darkness, offering up sweet perfume. To the casual observer, she appeared to be carved from the tree against which she rested, the sweet flowering rambling of growth only a thing to encourage such an assumption. Even the light color of her fur blended and melded against the wood, the deepness of moonlight and shadow and her unmoving form naught but an illusion of the imitation of life, for it was life in practice, however deceptively motionless
a four star failure: For a very long time he did nothing. With great suddenness the forest before him was flooded with a pale, artificial warmth that glowed like a memory of summer sunrise. Clearly gleaming beneath the lit orbs, his glass-eyes focused in and out, breaking the natural silence of things, imposing their mechanism on the world - as was his way. He was much like a man, then, sat back against the tree with his head turning this way now, then that. But he was much more the stones and little pond and mossy things on the earth in his contemplation. Finally, he spoke aloud to himself from where a mouth ought to have been ....though steel was patched instead, "I am awake..." He re-spoke, "I ....am aware.?"
Melodious Silence: There. She felt it, a tugging in the earth, the myriad of connections that spider-webbed and bound all things - sent shivers through the earth and touched her awareness. Earthen eyes slipped open, the pale wash of moonlight setting them strangely alight to reflect like deep forest pools. In response to her new-found state of awareness, those things that grew and those things that crept and flew upon the air, all these things seemed somehow more real...more alive. There was a revitalized energy, fervent and ecstatic that seemed to hang around her, though there was no other motion. She was waiting.
a four star failure: Calling were the leaves, the dust, every blade beneath him. We are all starstuff, we all the same things and through us the universe knows itself, and through Twitch did the urge to be discovered burst into being. With violent splendor there came a crash as he rose, tall and strong like men ought to stand and all about him danced the tattered ends of his dirty coat and the free-spun remains of the earth he'd occupied. In that moment, all about him was motion and he was the rock of it, the center of this sudden ceremony of commotion. When the dust settled, and the air blew through the trees and the smell of oak and rock was all about him, he began to walk, drawn by the tugging of the universe, by the pull of things that grew and thought."
Melodious Silence: This way... those dancing fireflies seemed to beckon. Imitators of will'o'th'wisps, and serving the same purpose. Follow...follow... that glorious frenzy of flickering lights, bidding him onward. Aware...she was of course aware, such was impossible not to know those things that tread upon you when your spirit is the earth. Each blade of grass, each leaf, and yes, the moss that had covered him"
a four star failure: From him there came a splendid cascade of colored flashes, each a mimic of the blink-out existence of that moment each firefly gave up. Though, he was be-speckled with blues and bright purples, and impossible reds and yellows, all teasing reality, mocking beautifully the practiced swoops and leaps and bright finales of the fire bugs. At times, he was in full control, he could twist wind and bring mountains to kneel, and at others, he was a vessel to the whims of the that one great thing, that one Will that moves all things forward and back again....and so back again he'd come and was now, colored in the blinking little lights that followed him and shone off his delicate little wings, in the presence of that one thing he longed so much to know; she was life ever-growing, ever being and he was a shell, a hunk of misused purpose that decorated itself as the living. Before he stood for a long and silent time, and finally he spoke, almost in song, "Hello.?"
Melodious Silence: It was pure satisfaction that brought her visage to life, her eyes filled with and reflecting the sight of him. Him, whom she found a unique resonance within, that somehow complimented her own. That strange and beautiful song of gears that kept time and gave cadence to the pulse that coursed and teased through her her own essence to come together in a strange symphony that somehow was right. Tendrils uncurled and slipped free of her gently in release as she rose to her feet in fluid grace and offered up a long fingered hand in supplication
a four star failure: Twice goggled, his face was not without expression. Behind the plate of steel, the pulled leather and the hide stitching there was plain a stretch of what once had been the ability to smile, though it was a jerk-reaction, to ask Twitch what it meant to respond happily and smile would be to ask the sky why it filled so beautifully stars; somethings just were as they were and so he was before her and now against her. His hand he took quite carefully her own, and held it now with both his hands one of flesh, one of steel, and he came close to her palm and light it pure with the yellow pale that shone above his gaze. He would memorize every fur-hair, every crease, every intent if given opportunity. Through his distracted actions, though, he focused and continued, "Often One finds you."
Melodious Silence: Rapture..there was no compare to the gentle life-filled rush that swirled though her and now was offered without reserve unto him. A soft breath escaped her lips and her eyes half masted in delectation. The bond that allowed the touching of minds was forged and she let her words flow freely as they formed cohesiveness amid the many thousands of voices of all things the natural world harbored:: I am all things in all places...I this sense I never left you. Though it is more satisfying to meet in this way, so I seek.
....Beyond Twitch's grasp to control the night was his mind. No close of eyes or business with hands kept that connection from keeping in. Long Twitch rested beneath the yew on a patch of dry earth in vacant contemplation. He was a vessel for this, a vein of needing to connect and being with her made something in him his own. He glanced to his right arm, the intricate details of the clock-work there, the attempt for perfection in craftsmanship and the nuances there in were all reminders that he was not his own. His leg nor the wings of brass and bronze and little shiny springs, nor the pulled hood of leather, steel irises and glowing orbs above his eyes belonged to the body on which they stay and yet in being so crafted, pieced together, he found equilibrium in his own company, in his thoughts.
She wanted those thoughts, to be a part of what was not made of him but what simply was, what existed and it was on this his mind bent and dwelt with fervor.
Melodious Silence: The night was warm, the air sweet and mild. This is what gave rise to the fact this night she was clad lightly in a flaxen loincloth rather than the heavy robes of winter, a sight that would surely be more common in warmer days to come. Fireflies flickered and danced glimmering illuminations of pulsing life, poetry in motion and seemingly centered around the very still forestling. Eyes were closed, though not in sleep as she sat. Her back was pressed to the trunk of an aged yew and there where she sat the grass around her seemed more vigorous and vibrant.
a four star failure: It started as a hum, an earthen, low cicada-call it could have been but it was driven by the spoke and the gear and the spring and it was written in the electric song of Aether; that ever-something what fueled the clock-work and the cogs. He was a sparkling distant thing there where the moonlight just braved, sprinkled lovingly with dew, dressed in dark, soil-browns. The humming became ticking and the ticking became clicking and the very pulse of him was a rampant march, the flourishing of? whirring steel and focusing glass and the steady upbeat of the flicker of bits that weren't quite man sang his story. Twitch awoke beneath heavy moss tendrils."
Melodious Silence: Tendrils ah yes those tiny things that crept and curled, though those that wound little spirals around the forestling's long toes were of another sort. Dainty and frail they wound convoluted paths along velvet furred feet, the tiny white flowers that dotted them in full bloom in spite of the darkness, offering up sweet perfume. To the casual observer, she appeared to be carved from the tree against which she rested, the sweet flowering rambling of growth only a thing to encourage such an assumption. Even the light color of her fur blended and melded against the wood, the deepness of moonlight and shadow and her unmoving form naught but an illusion of the imitation of life, for it was life in practice, however deceptively motionless
a four star failure: For a very long time he did nothing. With great suddenness the forest before him was flooded with a pale, artificial warmth that glowed like a memory of summer sunrise. Clearly gleaming beneath the lit orbs, his glass-eyes focused in and out, breaking the natural silence of things, imposing their mechanism on the world - as was his way. He was much like a man, then, sat back against the tree with his head turning this way now, then that. But he was much more the stones and little pond and mossy things on the earth in his contemplation. Finally, he spoke aloud to himself from where a mouth ought to have been ....though steel was patched instead, "I am awake..." He re-spoke, "I ....am aware.?"
Melodious Silence: There. She felt it, a tugging in the earth, the myriad of connections that spider-webbed and bound all things - sent shivers through the earth and touched her awareness. Earthen eyes slipped open, the pale wash of moonlight setting them strangely alight to reflect like deep forest pools. In response to her new-found state of awareness, those things that grew and those things that crept and flew upon the air, all these things seemed somehow more real...more alive. There was a revitalized energy, fervent and ecstatic that seemed to hang around her, though there was no other motion. She was waiting.
a four star failure: Calling were the leaves, the dust, every blade beneath him. We are all starstuff, we all the same things and through us the universe knows itself, and through Twitch did the urge to be discovered burst into being. With violent splendor there came a crash as he rose, tall and strong like men ought to stand and all about him danced the tattered ends of his dirty coat and the free-spun remains of the earth he'd occupied. In that moment, all about him was motion and he was the rock of it, the center of this sudden ceremony of commotion. When the dust settled, and the air blew through the trees and the smell of oak and rock was all about him, he began to walk, drawn by the tugging of the universe, by the pull of things that grew and thought."
Melodious Silence: This way... those dancing fireflies seemed to beckon. Imitators of will'o'th'wisps, and serving the same purpose. Follow...follow... that glorious frenzy of flickering lights, bidding him onward. Aware...she was of course aware, such was impossible not to know those things that tread upon you when your spirit is the earth. Each blade of grass, each leaf, and yes, the moss that had covered him"
a four star failure: From him there came a splendid cascade of colored flashes, each a mimic of the blink-out existence of that moment each firefly gave up. Though, he was be-speckled with blues and bright purples, and impossible reds and yellows, all teasing reality, mocking beautifully the practiced swoops and leaps and bright finales of the fire bugs. At times, he was in full control, he could twist wind and bring mountains to kneel, and at others, he was a vessel to the whims of the that one great thing, that one Will that moves all things forward and back again....and so back again he'd come and was now, colored in the blinking little lights that followed him and shone off his delicate little wings, in the presence of that one thing he longed so much to know; she was life ever-growing, ever being and he was a shell, a hunk of misused purpose that decorated itself as the living. Before he stood for a long and silent time, and finally he spoke, almost in song, "Hello.?"
Melodious Silence: It was pure satisfaction that brought her visage to life, her eyes filled with and reflecting the sight of him. Him, whom she found a unique resonance within, that somehow complimented her own. That strange and beautiful song of gears that kept time and gave cadence to the pulse that coursed and teased through her her own essence to come together in a strange symphony that somehow was right. Tendrils uncurled and slipped free of her gently in release as she rose to her feet in fluid grace and offered up a long fingered hand in supplication
a four star failure: Twice goggled, his face was not without expression. Behind the plate of steel, the pulled leather and the hide stitching there was plain a stretch of what once had been the ability to smile, though it was a jerk-reaction, to ask Twitch what it meant to respond happily and smile would be to ask the sky why it filled so beautifully stars; somethings just were as they were and so he was before her and now against her. His hand he took quite carefully her own, and held it now with both his hands one of flesh, one of steel, and he came close to her palm and light it pure with the yellow pale that shone above his gaze. He would memorize every fur-hair, every crease, every intent if given opportunity. Through his distracted actions, though, he focused and continued, "Often One finds you."
Melodious Silence: Rapture..there was no compare to the gentle life-filled rush that swirled though her and now was offered without reserve unto him. A soft breath escaped her lips and her eyes half masted in delectation. The bond that allowed the touching of minds was forged and she let her words flow freely as they formed cohesiveness amid the many thousands of voices of all things the natural world harbored:: I am all things in all places...I this sense I never left you. Though it is more satisfying to meet in this way, so I seek.
....Beyond Twitch's grasp to control the night was his mind. No close of eyes or business with hands kept that connection from keeping in. Long Twitch rested beneath the yew on a patch of dry earth in vacant contemplation. He was a vessel for this, a vein of needing to connect and being with her made something in him his own. He glanced to his right arm, the intricate details of the clock-work there, the attempt for perfection in craftsmanship and the nuances there in were all reminders that he was not his own. His leg nor the wings of brass and bronze and little shiny springs, nor the pulled hood of leather, steel irises and glowing orbs above his eyes belonged to the body on which they stay and yet in being so crafted, pieced together, he found equilibrium in his own company, in his thoughts.
She wanted those thoughts, to be a part of what was not made of him but what simply was, what existed and it was on this his mind bent and dwelt with fervor.