guy standing behind you
Trying to be active again!
DEAR GOD PLEASE COMMENT!!!!!! I WILL NOT WRITE THE REST OF THIS IF I DO NOT GET FEEDBACK!!!!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was cold. Depressing. It was the gray time after the rain had just begun to slow. It was still drizzling, but not enough to dampen the bright flame that was the only spot of color in the gray town. The flame was not actually a flame, but the bright reddish-orange hair of a teenage girl. The clothes she wore were dark, but not as dark as those of the boy walking behind her. everything about him was dark. His hair was a dark brown and his clothes were pitch black. The only thing that was not dark about him was his skin, which was very pale, almost white, and looked as if very little sunlight had ever touched it. The girl kept glancing at him, as if she were afraid that he would dissapear.
They moved purposefully, neither speaking to the other. Silence permeated the town. Everything was absolutely silent. Until...
"That one," said the girl, pointing to a decrepit shack. The boy walked over and knocked on the door. There was no response, only silence. He pushed the door open, and he and his companion entered.
The filth of the outside did not pervade the interior of the hovel. It was immaculately clean, except for the piles of scrolls everywhere. The scrolls were covered with words, in many different languages. Some scrolls also had beautiful illustrations accompanying the words. They did not see the inhabitant of the hut, who was hidden in the back behind a pile of scrolls.
"Who goes there?" demanded the man. His face was shrouded in a white beard, but his skin showed no signs of age. No wrinkles or spots. His eyes made the biggest difference. They were full of experience and age. They looked warm, as if they belonged to an elderly grandfather whose life had been filled with love and adventure.
"Who goes there?" he repeated, more forcefully this time.
"I'd prefer not to give my name," replied the boy. His voice cold and cruel, much in contrast to the old man's. While the old man's voice called to mind a warm, comforting fire, the boy's was reminiscent of an icy barren tundra.
"I am seeking the storyteller," said the boy in his icy voice. He tilted his head upward, and the man got a good look at the boy's eyes. The iris was a hazel-green, but what stood out most was the black pupil. Rather than a warm pool of emotion, like in most peoples' eyes, they were a cold, icy, infinite abyss. The man did not trust this cold-eyed, icy-voiced boy.
"You have come to the right place," replied the man. "I am the storyteller, but I don't spill information for free." The boy grabbed a pouch from his belt and shook it so the man could hear the sound of coins gently clinking together. He dropped this pouch on the table, and the man looked inside. It was full of gleaming golden coins.
"Well," said the man, "this changes things. I am Granite, the storyteller. Which stories would you like to hear?"
"Tell me of the dragons," commanded the boy. A sly smile crossed Granite's face.
"Curious, are you? Well I guess there's no better place to start than at the beginning..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was cold. Depressing. It was the gray time after the rain had just begun to slow. It was still drizzling, but not enough to dampen the bright flame that was the only spot of color in the gray town. The flame was not actually a flame, but the bright reddish-orange hair of a teenage girl. The clothes she wore were dark, but not as dark as those of the boy walking behind her. everything about him was dark. His hair was a dark brown and his clothes were pitch black. The only thing that was not dark about him was his skin, which was very pale, almost white, and looked as if very little sunlight had ever touched it. The girl kept glancing at him, as if she were afraid that he would dissapear.
They moved purposefully, neither speaking to the other. Silence permeated the town. Everything was absolutely silent. Until...
"That one," said the girl, pointing to a decrepit shack. The boy walked over and knocked on the door. There was no response, only silence. He pushed the door open, and he and his companion entered.
The filth of the outside did not pervade the interior of the hovel. It was immaculately clean, except for the piles of scrolls everywhere. The scrolls were covered with words, in many different languages. Some scrolls also had beautiful illustrations accompanying the words. They did not see the inhabitant of the hut, who was hidden in the back behind a pile of scrolls.
"Who goes there?" demanded the man. His face was shrouded in a white beard, but his skin showed no signs of age. No wrinkles or spots. His eyes made the biggest difference. They were full of experience and age. They looked warm, as if they belonged to an elderly grandfather whose life had been filled with love and adventure.
"Who goes there?" he repeated, more forcefully this time.
"I'd prefer not to give my name," replied the boy. His voice cold and cruel, much in contrast to the old man's. While the old man's voice called to mind a warm, comforting fire, the boy's was reminiscent of an icy barren tundra.
"I am seeking the storyteller," said the boy in his icy voice. He tilted his head upward, and the man got a good look at the boy's eyes. The iris was a hazel-green, but what stood out most was the black pupil. Rather than a warm pool of emotion, like in most peoples' eyes, they were a cold, icy, infinite abyss. The man did not trust this cold-eyed, icy-voiced boy.
"You have come to the right place," replied the man. "I am the storyteller, but I don't spill information for free." The boy grabbed a pouch from his belt and shook it so the man could hear the sound of coins gently clinking together. He dropped this pouch on the table, and the man looked inside. It was full of gleaming golden coins.
"Well," said the man, "this changes things. I am Granite, the storyteller. Which stories would you like to hear?"
"Tell me of the dragons," commanded the boy. A sly smile crossed Granite's face.
"Curious, are you? Well I guess there's no better place to start than at the beginning..."
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