Athena (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
everlastingsoul) wrote2009-06-03 07:24 pm
everlastingsoul) wrote2009-06-03 07:24 pm
Entry tags:
Another unfinished fic dump
Just some fic ideas that never went anywhere.
Title: The Fate Woven
Series: Kingdom Hearts/Loom (as in the LucasArts game, yes)
Original concept: The Age of the Great Guilds continues, surviving the Third Shadow and the unmaking of the Great Loom. Three Shadows had befallen the land, each time stripping the earth bare as chaos rents the entire world and corrupts all in its path. Only those that are able to transcend the world’s pattern are ever allowed to escape, and even they do not take well to such an idea.
The 20 years following the Third Shadow have been kind to the noble Guilds. Communications have been established with the Weavers for the first time in generations, and new blood is entering the Guild after the Rules of Membership were amended by Elder Bobbin. Life is simple and slowly returning to an upswing of activity.
And then five gray threads appear in the Great Loom.
Started: November 22, 2007
Finished: November 25, 2007
He still visited the cliff on his birthday, even 34 years after the beautiful white swan stopped skimming over the water then ascending to fly above him. His trek through the rocky hills and away from the village was a time for reflection, a time to think about what he would do for the next year. It was also a time to get away from the village, from the former Elders in their constant nitpicking, from the stresses of being the lone Elder and diplomat for the Guild.
Bobbin Threadbare had long ago come to the sad truth that his life would not be a simple one; at 16, he had single-handedly rent the Great Loom asunder to keep it from the hands of Chaos, dooming half of the world to the tyranny of the living undead. Even with his exceptional power, he could only watch from the sidelines as two acquaintances, Rusty Nailbender of the Blacksmiths and Fleece Firmflanks of the Shepherds, rallied the Guilds in the area to do battle with Chaos. Only when the Great Loom began to mend itself, 14 years into the Third Shadow, was Bobbin able to properly aid his friends.
He had seen the end of the war and the Third Shadow 20 years ago alongside his mother, who returned with him from exile. The Elders, disgruntled by the turn of events, grudgingly handed power over to Bobbin; the other members of the small Guild would have rebelled otherwise. When he took over the leadership of the Guild of Weavers, Bobbin was 30 years old, though only 16 years physically because of his long time in his transcended form. And now he was 50, but only 36 years old in appearance. It still confused Rusty when he tried to talk to him about it.
The rest of the world did not notice the Guild of Weavers that disappeared from the Pattern, and as such did not understand their part in the great war. But those that knew held the Weavers in high regard, especially their leader. The Shepherds and Blacksmiths enjoyed a prosperous relationship with the Weavers because of their leaders’ camaraderie, and the Glassmakers soon joined their trading agreements. Soon the surrounding Guilds, with the notable exception of the Clerics, had reestablished trading routes and communications with each other.
All the while, the Weavers were slowly rebuilding their ranks, which had dwindled down to a mere score of guildsmen through years of inbreeding and self-imposed isolation. Lady Cygna, Bobbin’s mother, wed a Shepherd three years after her return to the world of the Pattern and brought him to Loom. Within a year, she bore twin boys whom they named Warp and Weft. The boys were eagerly welcomed into the Weavers’ fold, and Cygna’s great fortune inspired the other young ones to find outside mates to bring back to the island. Hetchel, Cygna’s old midwife and Bobbin’s caretaker, found herself essentially a great-grandmother, and the old woman relished the chance to raise children again.
Bobbin himself felt no desire to find a bride, and his decision to abstain from marriage for now was met with mixed reactions; Cygna was sad but understanding, Mother Hetchel noted that he was still young and had plenty of time to change his mind, and the former Elders took it as him upholding the Rule of Membership in which the Guild’s leaders never wed.
Dawn was quickly approaching. Drawing the shroud of his gray robe closer, Bobbin ascended to the top of the cliff, his attention immediately going to the tree stump where a sapling had taken to growing. And clear blue eyes widened considerably at the sight that awaited him.
Slumped against the roots, cushioned only by a black robe, was a young man with hair that shone a curious mixture of gray and violet in the early morning’s light.
----------
Started:
Finished:
Chapter 1:
His Heart Asunder
The arrival of a newcomer, while no longer unheard of to the Weavers, was still an affair that brought the entirety of the village together. There was an especially noisy clamor considering the Elder had found the stranger in the hills, far from the shore the village resided next to. Old and weathered Hetchel, nearly 90 years old and constantly bent over her cane, slowly helped Cygna prepare a bed for their interesting guest. Near the entrance of the tent, former Elder Lachesis clucked reprovingly as Bobbin carried the young man across the room and deposited him on the newly-made bed.
“An outsider, Bobbin, really,” Lachesis muttered, already beginning one of her infamous tirades. “He is neither an apprentice or a mate to one of our own. He shouldn’t be allowed any further than the docks, let alone the Elder’s tent.”
“He is injured and in need of care.” Hetchel tilted her head to look the tall woman in the eye. “Surely you would not send away a boy in need of help?”
“Then spin a healing draft and be done with it!” the gold-robed Weaver snapped. “If Atropos was here, he would--”
“Yes, do bring Atropos into this,” Cygna interrupted, eyes narrowing beneath her white hood. “I’m quite surprised you haven’t sent a message to him already.”
Lachesis glowered at the other woman, but fell silent as Bobbin fetched his distaff and stood over the young man. The distaff glowed as Bobbin spun a draft of healing, the four threads woven by song to bend the fabric of the Pattern. Sparkling energy engulfed the unconscious form, whirling and prodding for a few moments before disappearing completely. As with most drafts, the effect was instantaneous and the results noticeable; the young man opened his eyes, blinking in brief confusion.
“Who are you?”
Bobbin was slightly taken aback by the business-like tone the young man was able to adopt, especially considering he had just awoken and was still flat on his back. Nonetheless, he answered in turn, “I am Bobbin Threadbare, Elder of the Guild of Weavers. You are in our village.”
The stranger stared up at him for a moment longer, then gave the others in the tent a cursory glance before speaking. “I am not dead, then.”
“Certainly not. You would be beyond our help, otherwise.”
Any further conversation between the two was interrupted by a hooded figure—did everyone here wear robes?—appearing at the entranceway. “Elder Bobbin,” the man said, voice urgent.
“What is the matter, Flaxen?”
The man already looked ready to bolt, glancing from the inside of the tent to the outside. “You’re needed in the Loom Sanctuary. The Great Loom--”
That was all it took to explain. Bobbin nodded gravely and turned from his just-awoken guest. “Mother Hetchel, please watch over our guest.”
Hetchel nodded unnecessarily as Bobbin quickly left the tent, followed closely by both Cygna and Lachesis. The old woman busied herself by taking a blanket that had been set aside and carrying it to the young man, who looked flatly at the proffered linens as if they were something offensive to the senses.
“How do you feel, dear?” Hetchel inquired gently, holding the blanket out until the young man reluctantly took it. “A healing draft does not cure fatigue, unfortunately.”
She did not expect an answer right away; by all rights, the stranger should be wary, and perhaps a little disoriented. His gloved hands worked methodically to unfold the blanket, covering his body in some silent acceptance of his current situation.
“All things considered,” he said clearly, his crisp inflections now clearly unlike any Hetchel had heard in all her years, “quite well. Physically.”
“And emotionally, dear?”
“The same as always.”
========================
Title: Reflect, Refract
Series: Kingdom Hearts
Original concept: While taking a break from research, Ienzo finds a strange mirror in Ansem's possession allows him to see whatever he wishes. After a few rounds of trying to confuse the magic mirror, Ienzo says what he fully expects cannot be answered.
“Mirror, mirror, on the wall—show me anything, everything, and nothing at all.”
When next he gazes into the mirror, Ienzo finds himself staring at a terribly familiar young man.
The young man introduces himself as Zexion.
“Reflect, Refract”
“Mirror, mirror, on the wall—show me anything, everything, and nothing at all.”
He scribbled a note to himself before shutting the textbook, weary of the amount of effort he had been putting into his references. Several hours of constant analysis were beginning to get to him.
“I’m sick of this.”
His fellow researchers did not looking up from their own books. “You can go join Dilan and Braig in their less academic pursuits for a few hours, Ienzo.”
“I’m not in the mood,” the youngest of Ansem the Wise’s six apprentices muttered, shifting in his chair to glance out one of the windows. It was already dark out. “We should have had these procedures thought out before agreeing to the experiment. And Xehanort should not be so … excited about being a guinea pig.”
It was a tantrum that had been building for several hours. Even pinched his nose and listened to Ienzo, knowing all too well the bouts of passionate rage the young man was susceptible to. Xehanort had been the latest to leave the table, claiming the need to rest before the experiment that would be taking place in the morning. How Ienzo had managed to not explode for four hours was an admirable feat.
The fascination with the heart and its darkness was something that all of the apprentices could understand. But Xehanort’s curiosity and deep desire to see results, while admirable in a scientist, was borderline obsessive outside of the scientific context. At least, that was the way Ienzo presented it. Though he still wholeheartedly agreed with pursuing the secrets of the heart, Xehanort’s attitude was beginning to get to the youngest of the six.
Even folded his hands on top of the text he had been reading, looking at the teenager patiently over the rims of his reading glasses. "And yet you're still here."
Ienzo shot his elder a flinty glower. "The culmination of our research is everything to me. I'll see this through to the end."
========================
Title: The Fate Woven
Series: Kingdom Hearts/Loom (as in the LucasArts game, yes)
Original concept: The Age of the Great Guilds continues, surviving the Third Shadow and the unmaking of the Great Loom. Three Shadows had befallen the land, each time stripping the earth bare as chaos rents the entire world and corrupts all in its path. Only those that are able to transcend the world’s pattern are ever allowed to escape, and even they do not take well to such an idea.
The 20 years following the Third Shadow have been kind to the noble Guilds. Communications have been established with the Weavers for the first time in generations, and new blood is entering the Guild after the Rules of Membership were amended by Elder Bobbin. Life is simple and slowly returning to an upswing of activity.
And then five gray threads appear in the Great Loom.
Started: November 22, 2007
Finished: November 25, 2007
He still visited the cliff on his birthday, even 34 years after the beautiful white swan stopped skimming over the water then ascending to fly above him. His trek through the rocky hills and away from the village was a time for reflection, a time to think about what he would do for the next year. It was also a time to get away from the village, from the former Elders in their constant nitpicking, from the stresses of being the lone Elder and diplomat for the Guild.
Bobbin Threadbare had long ago come to the sad truth that his life would not be a simple one; at 16, he had single-handedly rent the Great Loom asunder to keep it from the hands of Chaos, dooming half of the world to the tyranny of the living undead. Even with his exceptional power, he could only watch from the sidelines as two acquaintances, Rusty Nailbender of the Blacksmiths and Fleece Firmflanks of the Shepherds, rallied the Guilds in the area to do battle with Chaos. Only when the Great Loom began to mend itself, 14 years into the Third Shadow, was Bobbin able to properly aid his friends.
He had seen the end of the war and the Third Shadow 20 years ago alongside his mother, who returned with him from exile. The Elders, disgruntled by the turn of events, grudgingly handed power over to Bobbin; the other members of the small Guild would have rebelled otherwise. When he took over the leadership of the Guild of Weavers, Bobbin was 30 years old, though only 16 years physically because of his long time in his transcended form. And now he was 50, but only 36 years old in appearance. It still confused Rusty when he tried to talk to him about it.
The rest of the world did not notice the Guild of Weavers that disappeared from the Pattern, and as such did not understand their part in the great war. But those that knew held the Weavers in high regard, especially their leader. The Shepherds and Blacksmiths enjoyed a prosperous relationship with the Weavers because of their leaders’ camaraderie, and the Glassmakers soon joined their trading agreements. Soon the surrounding Guilds, with the notable exception of the Clerics, had reestablished trading routes and communications with each other.
All the while, the Weavers were slowly rebuilding their ranks, which had dwindled down to a mere score of guildsmen through years of inbreeding and self-imposed isolation. Lady Cygna, Bobbin’s mother, wed a Shepherd three years after her return to the world of the Pattern and brought him to Loom. Within a year, she bore twin boys whom they named Warp and Weft. The boys were eagerly welcomed into the Weavers’ fold, and Cygna’s great fortune inspired the other young ones to find outside mates to bring back to the island. Hetchel, Cygna’s old midwife and Bobbin’s caretaker, found herself essentially a great-grandmother, and the old woman relished the chance to raise children again.
Bobbin himself felt no desire to find a bride, and his decision to abstain from marriage for now was met with mixed reactions; Cygna was sad but understanding, Mother Hetchel noted that he was still young and had plenty of time to change his mind, and the former Elders took it as him upholding the Rule of Membership in which the Guild’s leaders never wed.
Dawn was quickly approaching. Drawing the shroud of his gray robe closer, Bobbin ascended to the top of the cliff, his attention immediately going to the tree stump where a sapling had taken to growing. And clear blue eyes widened considerably at the sight that awaited him.
Slumped against the roots, cushioned only by a black robe, was a young man with hair that shone a curious mixture of gray and violet in the early morning’s light.
----------
Started:
Finished:
Chapter 1:
His Heart Asunder
The arrival of a newcomer, while no longer unheard of to the Weavers, was still an affair that brought the entirety of the village together. There was an especially noisy clamor considering the Elder had found the stranger in the hills, far from the shore the village resided next to. Old and weathered Hetchel, nearly 90 years old and constantly bent over her cane, slowly helped Cygna prepare a bed for their interesting guest. Near the entrance of the tent, former Elder Lachesis clucked reprovingly as Bobbin carried the young man across the room and deposited him on the newly-made bed.
“An outsider, Bobbin, really,” Lachesis muttered, already beginning one of her infamous tirades. “He is neither an apprentice or a mate to one of our own. He shouldn’t be allowed any further than the docks, let alone the Elder’s tent.”
“He is injured and in need of care.” Hetchel tilted her head to look the tall woman in the eye. “Surely you would not send away a boy in need of help?”
“Then spin a healing draft and be done with it!” the gold-robed Weaver snapped. “If Atropos was here, he would--”
“Yes, do bring Atropos into this,” Cygna interrupted, eyes narrowing beneath her white hood. “I’m quite surprised you haven’t sent a message to him already.”
Lachesis glowered at the other woman, but fell silent as Bobbin fetched his distaff and stood over the young man. The distaff glowed as Bobbin spun a draft of healing, the four threads woven by song to bend the fabric of the Pattern. Sparkling energy engulfed the unconscious form, whirling and prodding for a few moments before disappearing completely. As with most drafts, the effect was instantaneous and the results noticeable; the young man opened his eyes, blinking in brief confusion.
“Who are you?”
Bobbin was slightly taken aback by the business-like tone the young man was able to adopt, especially considering he had just awoken and was still flat on his back. Nonetheless, he answered in turn, “I am Bobbin Threadbare, Elder of the Guild of Weavers. You are in our village.”
The stranger stared up at him for a moment longer, then gave the others in the tent a cursory glance before speaking. “I am not dead, then.”
“Certainly not. You would be beyond our help, otherwise.”
Any further conversation between the two was interrupted by a hooded figure—did everyone here wear robes?—appearing at the entranceway. “Elder Bobbin,” the man said, voice urgent.
“What is the matter, Flaxen?”
The man already looked ready to bolt, glancing from the inside of the tent to the outside. “You’re needed in the Loom Sanctuary. The Great Loom--”
That was all it took to explain. Bobbin nodded gravely and turned from his just-awoken guest. “Mother Hetchel, please watch over our guest.”
Hetchel nodded unnecessarily as Bobbin quickly left the tent, followed closely by both Cygna and Lachesis. The old woman busied herself by taking a blanket that had been set aside and carrying it to the young man, who looked flatly at the proffered linens as if they were something offensive to the senses.
“How do you feel, dear?” Hetchel inquired gently, holding the blanket out until the young man reluctantly took it. “A healing draft does not cure fatigue, unfortunately.”
She did not expect an answer right away; by all rights, the stranger should be wary, and perhaps a little disoriented. His gloved hands worked methodically to unfold the blanket, covering his body in some silent acceptance of his current situation.
“All things considered,” he said clearly, his crisp inflections now clearly unlike any Hetchel had heard in all her years, “quite well. Physically.”
“And emotionally, dear?”
“The same as always.”
========================
Title: Reflect, Refract
Series: Kingdom Hearts
Original concept: While taking a break from research, Ienzo finds a strange mirror in Ansem's possession allows him to see whatever he wishes. After a few rounds of trying to confuse the magic mirror, Ienzo says what he fully expects cannot be answered.
“Mirror, mirror, on the wall—show me anything, everything, and nothing at all.”
When next he gazes into the mirror, Ienzo finds himself staring at a terribly familiar young man.
The young man introduces himself as Zexion.
“Reflect, Refract”
“Mirror, mirror, on the wall—show me anything, everything, and nothing at all.”
He scribbled a note to himself before shutting the textbook, weary of the amount of effort he had been putting into his references. Several hours of constant analysis were beginning to get to him.
“I’m sick of this.”
His fellow researchers did not looking up from their own books. “You can go join Dilan and Braig in their less academic pursuits for a few hours, Ienzo.”
“I’m not in the mood,” the youngest of Ansem the Wise’s six apprentices muttered, shifting in his chair to glance out one of the windows. It was already dark out. “We should have had these procedures thought out before agreeing to the experiment. And Xehanort should not be so … excited about being a guinea pig.”
It was a tantrum that had been building for several hours. Even pinched his nose and listened to Ienzo, knowing all too well the bouts of passionate rage the young man was susceptible to. Xehanort had been the latest to leave the table, claiming the need to rest before the experiment that would be taking place in the morning. How Ienzo had managed to not explode for four hours was an admirable feat.
The fascination with the heart and its darkness was something that all of the apprentices could understand. But Xehanort’s curiosity and deep desire to see results, while admirable in a scientist, was borderline obsessive outside of the scientific context. At least, that was the way Ienzo presented it. Though he still wholeheartedly agreed with pursuing the secrets of the heart, Xehanort’s attitude was beginning to get to the youngest of the six.
Even folded his hands on top of the text he had been reading, looking at the teenager patiently over the rims of his reading glasses. "And yet you're still here."
Ienzo shot his elder a flinty glower. "The culmination of our research is everything to me. I'll see this through to the end."
========================