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The Power of the Feather
May. 22nd, 2011 03:44 pmBrigit's Flame week 3
Prompts..advanced ..The Ultimate Sacrifice,In Reverse, and Abstract by Ignoring.
Warnings..moderate sensuality and violence
Word Count 1384.
The air was full of dust that swirled and flew away like desiccated manna.
One of the things about old doors is that they seem to carry a Winter all year. So it was not odd when then man walked in wearing an old greatcoat that looked like it had served in some ancient or foreign war. He had a battered rucksack at his side and wore a pair of boots that seemed to be far too serviceable for as old as they looked. The barrista reached to the upper shelf behind the counter and pulled down a thick, Hunter Green mug with a handle that resembled a carved dragon. He poured it full to the brim with thick black coffee, remembering that the man across the counter took neither cream nor sugar. The man nodded and then walked toward the back.
Jay, the barista, moved back and forth behind the bar moving the top shelf liquor to a safer spot. It was not that he did not trust the latest arrival it was just that he knew him. And tonight there was already too much magic in the house. Even a shanachie could push it over the edge. Ah well, he thought to himself, at least the night should prove interesting.
The warm late Spring evening had brought a number of people to enjoy the weather on the back deck, festooned as it was with Christmas tree lights even in May. The latest arrival found a seat in one corner. Reaching into his rucksack he pulled out an old meerschaum pipe and a well used leather bag filled with an aromatic herb leaf that he tamped into the bowl of the pipe. Looking over in another corner he smiled. There was a couple sitting there, somehow spinning a sort of privacy. She was dressed in a grey dress which covered her small firm breasts but left her long legs mostly uncovered. Resting one hand on her knee was a fellow who looked a bit like the Shanachie. He was wearing a sort of iridescent black that shifted as the light did, from a black Stetson with a silver band to black boots with feathers hand tooled on them. The Shanachie recognised Raven at once and remembered hearing about his human lover. He smiled once again somewhat sadly, missing his own lady.
A cluster of young people, attracted by the smell of the pipe or perhaps just drawn by the power of a story, gathered around Rowan the Shanachie. Like Raven they were dressed in black, but it was, as Raven would have mentioned, more Crow than Raven. They all had black hair, regardless of their real colour. And shining in the shimmering Christmas lights were an assortment of metal chains and silver jewelry. Only one of them seemed to be free of the affectation. He wore his black with comfort and with no jewelry. Rowan took a look at him before taking in a mouthful of smoke. He exhaled a large smoke ring that seemed to hold all of them inside the circle. He began to weave the story, beginning as though this was a continuation of an earlier story.
“Sometimes,” he began, “People really do not understand what is meant by evil.” The group of goths around him snickered. Rowan took a sip of his coffee and waited. “You see? You do not either. Evil is not about religion or what Society thinks. And evil, true evil, is not really good or bad. It just is. Implacable as a storm and hungry as a wolf pack. “
Over in the corner, Raven was carving something out of a block of heartwood while whispering to his lady. Rowan could not hear the conversation, although he could guess by the way Raven's lady blushed. At the same time, he knew that Raven was listening to the story.
“So why do you call it evil?” Asked one young man, thin and with enough ear piercings to bend his lobe.
“Simple,” said Rowan. “Evil is what is detrimental to Humanity. Which I suppose means that Humanity itself is often evil.” He shrugged and re lit his bowl, which had gone out.
“Take monsters,” he continued. “Oh, let's say Vampires. Is a Vampire as evil as say, Hitler? Or even a terrorist?”
“Hell no,” said a girl who probably was not old enough to be in the pub to begin with, “Vampires are cool, man”
Rowan seemed to consider her comment for a moment. “Cool,eh? So tell me, Miss all Twilighty and Lestatlike Vampire expert, have you been feeling a bit drained lately?”
“Man, the world is just so, oh my god,draining me.”
Rowan's mouth moved in a soft, sad sort of smile. “The world,eh? How about the rest of you? Feeling the so called world draining you? Feeling the sun a bit too bright lately? Avoiding Italian food?”
There was a general muttering among the group. A rather pudgy lad with ginger roots peeking out at the base of his black retro mohawk looked at Rowan. “What are you saying, that we are being attacked by evil Vampires?”
Rowan took another sip of coffee. “Well, unless you consider being slowly devoured a good thing, I would say it was evil. Although from what I have heard it would be a Vampire, not a group. Vampires tend not to like each other let alone their food source.”
“Food source?” said a girl with torn stockings and an ankh too large to fit between her young breasts. “Ohhhh,” she said as she thought about it.
“Food source” Rowan repeated. “and evil in the same way that chickens and cattle might consider humans to be if they have metaphysical conversations about such things.”
The older member of the group had been hovering in the background. He seemed to unfold himself from the chair as though he were more fluid than flesh and bone. “So you are saying that it is wrong to feed? People do it all the time.” His eyes seem to reflect the Christmas lights and something deeper and darker as he stared at Rowan.
Rowan noticed the stare and chuckled. This got the man in front of him tense his muscles. “Like I said, if I were a cow I might say the same thing about Humans. But I am not. And I do not believe in taking souls, in a figurative or a literal sense. I forgot to mention, Vampires are not only Evil. They are cowards on top of it. When you pull them back the basic state they are just cowards.”
A small woman who seemed almost too old to be in the group shook her timidity off. “Wait,” she said looking at the man in front of Rowan”You said you would leave them alone if I let you..”her voice trailed off as he bored a look through her, capturing her and making her sit.
“I am sorry,” said Rowan, “But the whole ultimate sacrifice thing does not look anymore with Vampires than only eating one potato chip works with you. Oh yes. Even, Cowardly, and gluttons. I forgot gluttony.” The man in front of him seemed to grow still with anger and his neck muscled tightened. Then he stopped. He could not believe that Raven had moved next to him without him noticing.
Raven smiled and rested a hand on the man's shoulder. He turned to Rowan and said in a rather mocking way “You really are taking too long for the story tonight. Let me try. Once upon a time there was a Vampire. And then the brave Raven made sure everyone else lived Happily Ever After.”
There was a low roar as the man's temper finally cracked and he reached for Raven with fangs extended. Then there was moment when there was a look of shock as he looked down and saw a carved wooden figure of a raven feather sticking from his chest. Raven smiled “and I was never even a cheerleader,” as there was a whisper of wind and the wooden feather fell to the ground as the Vampire disappeared like desiccated manna.
Prompts..advanced ..The Ultimate Sacrifice,In Reverse, and Abstract by Ignoring.
Warnings..moderate sensuality and violence
Word Count 1384.
The air was full of dust that swirled and flew away like desiccated manna.
One of the things about old doors is that they seem to carry a Winter all year. So it was not odd when then man walked in wearing an old greatcoat that looked like it had served in some ancient or foreign war. He had a battered rucksack at his side and wore a pair of boots that seemed to be far too serviceable for as old as they looked. The barrista reached to the upper shelf behind the counter and pulled down a thick, Hunter Green mug with a handle that resembled a carved dragon. He poured it full to the brim with thick black coffee, remembering that the man across the counter took neither cream nor sugar. The man nodded and then walked toward the back.
Jay, the barista, moved back and forth behind the bar moving the top shelf liquor to a safer spot. It was not that he did not trust the latest arrival it was just that he knew him. And tonight there was already too much magic in the house. Even a shanachie could push it over the edge. Ah well, he thought to himself, at least the night should prove interesting.
The warm late Spring evening had brought a number of people to enjoy the weather on the back deck, festooned as it was with Christmas tree lights even in May. The latest arrival found a seat in one corner. Reaching into his rucksack he pulled out an old meerschaum pipe and a well used leather bag filled with an aromatic herb leaf that he tamped into the bowl of the pipe. Looking over in another corner he smiled. There was a couple sitting there, somehow spinning a sort of privacy. She was dressed in a grey dress which covered her small firm breasts but left her long legs mostly uncovered. Resting one hand on her knee was a fellow who looked a bit like the Shanachie. He was wearing a sort of iridescent black that shifted as the light did, from a black Stetson with a silver band to black boots with feathers hand tooled on them. The Shanachie recognised Raven at once and remembered hearing about his human lover. He smiled once again somewhat sadly, missing his own lady.
A cluster of young people, attracted by the smell of the pipe or perhaps just drawn by the power of a story, gathered around Rowan the Shanachie. Like Raven they were dressed in black, but it was, as Raven would have mentioned, more Crow than Raven. They all had black hair, regardless of their real colour. And shining in the shimmering Christmas lights were an assortment of metal chains and silver jewelry. Only one of them seemed to be free of the affectation. He wore his black with comfort and with no jewelry. Rowan took a look at him before taking in a mouthful of smoke. He exhaled a large smoke ring that seemed to hold all of them inside the circle. He began to weave the story, beginning as though this was a continuation of an earlier story.
“Sometimes,” he began, “People really do not understand what is meant by evil.” The group of goths around him snickered. Rowan took a sip of his coffee and waited. “You see? You do not either. Evil is not about religion or what Society thinks. And evil, true evil, is not really good or bad. It just is. Implacable as a storm and hungry as a wolf pack. “
Over in the corner, Raven was carving something out of a block of heartwood while whispering to his lady. Rowan could not hear the conversation, although he could guess by the way Raven's lady blushed. At the same time, he knew that Raven was listening to the story.
“So why do you call it evil?” Asked one young man, thin and with enough ear piercings to bend his lobe.
“Simple,” said Rowan. “Evil is what is detrimental to Humanity. Which I suppose means that Humanity itself is often evil.” He shrugged and re lit his bowl, which had gone out.
“Take monsters,” he continued. “Oh, let's say Vampires. Is a Vampire as evil as say, Hitler? Or even a terrorist?”
“Hell no,” said a girl who probably was not old enough to be in the pub to begin with, “Vampires are cool, man”
Rowan seemed to consider her comment for a moment. “Cool,eh? So tell me, Miss all Twilighty and Lestatlike Vampire expert, have you been feeling a bit drained lately?”
“Man, the world is just so, oh my god,draining me.”
Rowan's mouth moved in a soft, sad sort of smile. “The world,eh? How about the rest of you? Feeling the so called world draining you? Feeling the sun a bit too bright lately? Avoiding Italian food?”
There was a general muttering among the group. A rather pudgy lad with ginger roots peeking out at the base of his black retro mohawk looked at Rowan. “What are you saying, that we are being attacked by evil Vampires?”
Rowan took another sip of coffee. “Well, unless you consider being slowly devoured a good thing, I would say it was evil. Although from what I have heard it would be a Vampire, not a group. Vampires tend not to like each other let alone their food source.”
“Food source?” said a girl with torn stockings and an ankh too large to fit between her young breasts. “Ohhhh,” she said as she thought about it.
“Food source” Rowan repeated. “and evil in the same way that chickens and cattle might consider humans to be if they have metaphysical conversations about such things.”
The older member of the group had been hovering in the background. He seemed to unfold himself from the chair as though he were more fluid than flesh and bone. “So you are saying that it is wrong to feed? People do it all the time.” His eyes seem to reflect the Christmas lights and something deeper and darker as he stared at Rowan.
Rowan noticed the stare and chuckled. This got the man in front of him tense his muscles. “Like I said, if I were a cow I might say the same thing about Humans. But I am not. And I do not believe in taking souls, in a figurative or a literal sense. I forgot to mention, Vampires are not only Evil. They are cowards on top of it. When you pull them back the basic state they are just cowards.”
A small woman who seemed almost too old to be in the group shook her timidity off. “Wait,” she said looking at the man in front of Rowan”You said you would leave them alone if I let you..”her voice trailed off as he bored a look through her, capturing her and making her sit.
“I am sorry,” said Rowan, “But the whole ultimate sacrifice thing does not look anymore with Vampires than only eating one potato chip works with you. Oh yes. Even, Cowardly, and gluttons. I forgot gluttony.” The man in front of him seemed to grow still with anger and his neck muscled tightened. Then he stopped. He could not believe that Raven had moved next to him without him noticing.
Raven smiled and rested a hand on the man's shoulder. He turned to Rowan and said in a rather mocking way “You really are taking too long for the story tonight. Let me try. Once upon a time there was a Vampire. And then the brave Raven made sure everyone else lived Happily Ever After.”
There was a low roar as the man's temper finally cracked and he reached for Raven with fangs extended. Then there was moment when there was a look of shock as he looked down and saw a carved wooden figure of a raven feather sticking from his chest. Raven smiled “and I was never even a cheerleader,” as there was a whisper of wind and the wooden feather fell to the ground as the Vampire disappeared like desiccated manna.
