Chapter 3: Interludes
About mid-morning Darren began to tire of his now-misty form and began to feel the first pangs of hunger rock his body in slow, gentle waves. "Damn", he whispered with a flourish, he had forgotten one crucial thing about travel. It tended to make one hungry, as did living in general, for in his haste to leave, he had brought no provisions, aside whatever arcane artifacts lay hidden inside his grandfather's regent pouch. He would have to improvise. As much as he despised improvision, as it to him at least, implied disorganization, he would have to do so. His muggle timepiece said 11:00AM. The autumn sun was just begining to peak over the wooded countryside. Darren observed plumes of smoke rising slowly, and being carried away by the wind over the tree-tops indicating some form of life. Accompanying the soft plumes of white smoke, was a haunting voice that reminded Darren of the voices of the elves, soft, eerie and smooth. "Well, what beauty of nature should reveal itself in a hellish place such as this? " he murmered softly to himself, he would just have to seen then wouldn't he. As he in his misty form rolled gently through the surrounding grove of trees, over the crest of the hill ahead he saw the most extraordinary sight. There, in a close-clustered grove of willow-trees stood a full- figured, volumptuous-looking girl, barefoot, dressed in what appeared to be a sheer-white, transparent gown made of some almost-shimmering material, that seemed to shift between shades of white and light greens, bathed in sunlight shining down through the holes in the overhanging leaves. She was dancing gracefully, slowly with intent, the sound of her sorrowful song moving the surrounding wildlife, filling it with life, and the breeze blowing softly through the trees. She seemed to be completely immersed in nature. Her face was quite pleasing to behold even though her eyes were closed as if in deep contemplation. Her hair, a deep, flaming-red with natural waves that seemed to dance with the cool-morning breeze, was pulled back harshly in a tight bun, with a single green ribbon of the finest velvet, almost as if she were trying to keep it from floating away with the wind. Her skin was pale, as if she didn't see much sunlight, but not sickly, almost like a fresh Winter's snowfall, touched by the rays of the first light of the rising sun. From her ruby-red full lips flowed a voice as full of passion as a newborn child, laced with honey and sweetness, a haunting melody in some lost language, it brought a tear to Darren's eye. Softly Swaying the mist is rising, We in harmony are most certainly dying, The darkness come to lull one to sleep His soul, a trap to lure my heartfor him to keep,
A warrior comes in the still of night, Luring my heart to his warm embrace He comes, on a cloud of gray like a knight, A man of little faith and a kind face,
Who was this goddess of the morning? And, what was she doing here, in the middle of a warzone? He thought of calling out to her, but Darren, being ever the quiet obeserver decided to keep his mouth shut. Besides, in his misty form, he might frighten the poor creature off. Hearing her sing was like being reborn. Strange emotions washed over him, unknown feelings of trust and warmth like some strange force was reaching into his soul and bringing about pure, unadultred joy. and all of a sudden it just stopped. Darren stared once more to where the girl was standing. Nothing was there. The grove of closely grown willows, the feeling of warmth, the sorrowful, glorius music, and the mysterious girl, they were all gone, as if nothing had happened. Where there was a grove of living willows, now stood a clump of bare-branced, unrecognizable, mostly-dead trees. "What sorcery is this," he called out suddenly, to no one in particular. It was now that he noticed, that his misty form, was now not-so-misty, the feeling of floating along with the wind was gone, and he was cold...cold, wet and hungry. It was getting dark. "Dark," he wondered? Just a few minutes ago it was 11 AM. Was this some unresearched side-effect of his grandfather's draught? Well, gramps was always a strange old man, known for his pioneers into the field of quantom-spacial transteleportation magics. Maybe there was a hidden meaning to the way the "Draught of Misty Form" actually worked. And what was with the strange visuals? The singing girl? What did it mean? Was he losing his mind? Sighing wistfully, Darren trudged through the muddy grove of dead trees, cold, hungry and most of all, lonely. After awhile he came upon a rustic log cabin sitting alone beside a stagnant-looking pond that was as lifeless as everything else around here. The exterior of the cabin itself looked in relatively good shape, aside from rust hanging off of the hinges. He slowly opened the door, and to his surprise, a small fire was already burning in the cabin's tiny fireplace. "That's funny," he whispered, the plumes of smoke that he saw earlier, were gone by the time the sun went down. From the outside the place looked deserted. Something was cooking in a pot on the fire. The smell of boiling broth of some sort wafted about the confines of the cabin. Aside from the blankets, the fire and the pot there were no other signs of habitation. And outside, there was certainly no one nearby. Darren could see for at least 1/2 mile in each direction due to the absence of visible foilage. Oh well, he was never one to turn down free hospitality, as long as no one cared he was taking advantage of it. He sampled from the pot questioningly and was plesantly surprised at it's contents, a heavy stew of some sort containing lamb and potatos, seasoned lightly with garlic and rosemary. Whoever owned this cabin had a good sense of taste. He curled up in the pile of blankets with a bowl of stew, ate heartily and closed his eyes. Drifting off slowly into the dark cavern of sleep, Darren sighed softly. All would be well in the morning. He dreamed a dreamless sleep, trapped in the misty confines of the night, feeling at peace with each and every thing. Darren awoke when it was still dark to the sound of soft breathing. It was still dark, he hadn't been out long, but someone, or some-thing was definantly in the cabin with him, more specifically right next to him under the soft blankets. His eyes jerked open suddenly to find that he was being held in a soft embrace by the same girl who he had seen in the woods earlier, still dressed(barely) in that same sheer dress as before. The girl with the voice like an angel. What the hell was SHE doing here? And more to the point, what in God's holy name was he doing here wrapped in the soft embrace of a woman he didn't even know, a sleeping one no less?!? Darren didn't even sleep with his old girlfriend. He was old fashioned. The most he'd ever gotten from a girl was a sisterly peck on the cheek after a pleasant dinner. What kind of strange woman got her kicks, sleeping with strange men who wandered into her cabin, uninvited late at night. This was quite a startle. He slowly removed her arm from around his chest so as not to wake her and took one of the blankets, wrapping himself up to block the chill on the other side of the still-blazing fire. He sat awake for a while staring at the sleeping girl. Her beauty was almost too much to take. Her hair was being worn down now and he could see that the way it framed her face made her appear even more angelic. She breathed softly, and a smile slowly spread accross her sleeping face. What could she be thinking, Darren questioned himself. And he himself began to drift off into a deep, dreamless sleep. He was awakened the next morning when he heard the soft sound of her voice singing, once again. He opened his eyes, to see her reclining in an armchair he didn't notice before staring at him. She had the most lovely steely-blue eyes one could imagine, one could see one's soul reflected perfectly in them. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap and Darren could see that she was now wearing absolutely nothing. He turned away quickly in shame and heard a nymph-like laugh emerge from the girl's general direction, followed by a luxuriously pleasant voice. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------
About mid-morning Darren began to tire of his now-misty form and began to feel the first pangs of hunger rock his body in slow, gentle waves. "Damn", he whispered with a flourish, he had forgotten one crucial thing about travel. It tended to make one hungry, as did living in general, for in his haste to leave, he had brought no provisions, aside whatever arcane artifacts lay hidden inside his grandfather's regent pouch. He would have to improvise. As much as he despised improvision, as it to him at least, implied disorganization, he would have to do so. His muggle timepiece said 11:00AM. The autumn sun was just begining to peak over the wooded countryside. Darren observed plumes of smoke rising slowly, and being carried away by the wind over the tree-tops indicating some form of life. Accompanying the soft plumes of white smoke, was a haunting voice that reminded Darren of the voices of the elves, soft, eerie and smooth. "Well, what beauty of nature should reveal itself in a hellish place such as this? " he murmered softly to himself, he would just have to seen then wouldn't he. As he in his misty form rolled gently through the surrounding grove of trees, over the crest of the hill ahead he saw the most extraordinary sight. There, in a close-clustered grove of willow-trees stood a full- figured, volumptuous-looking girl, barefoot, dressed in what appeared to be a sheer-white, transparent gown made of some almost-shimmering material, that seemed to shift between shades of white and light greens, bathed in sunlight shining down through the holes in the overhanging leaves. She was dancing gracefully, slowly with intent, the sound of her sorrowful song moving the surrounding wildlife, filling it with life, and the breeze blowing softly through the trees. She seemed to be completely immersed in nature. Her face was quite pleasing to behold even though her eyes were closed as if in deep contemplation. Her hair, a deep, flaming-red with natural waves that seemed to dance with the cool-morning breeze, was pulled back harshly in a tight bun, with a single green ribbon of the finest velvet, almost as if she were trying to keep it from floating away with the wind. Her skin was pale, as if she didn't see much sunlight, but not sickly, almost like a fresh Winter's snowfall, touched by the rays of the first light of the rising sun. From her ruby-red full lips flowed a voice as full of passion as a newborn child, laced with honey and sweetness, a haunting melody in some lost language, it brought a tear to Darren's eye. Softly Swaying the mist is rising, We in harmony are most certainly dying, The darkness come to lull one to sleep His soul, a trap to lure my heartfor him to keep,
A warrior comes in the still of night, Luring my heart to his warm embrace He comes, on a cloud of gray like a knight, A man of little faith and a kind face,
Who was this goddess of the morning? And, what was she doing here, in the middle of a warzone? He thought of calling out to her, but Darren, being ever the quiet obeserver decided to keep his mouth shut. Besides, in his misty form, he might frighten the poor creature off. Hearing her sing was like being reborn. Strange emotions washed over him, unknown feelings of trust and warmth like some strange force was reaching into his soul and bringing about pure, unadultred joy. and all of a sudden it just stopped. Darren stared once more to where the girl was standing. Nothing was there. The grove of closely grown willows, the feeling of warmth, the sorrowful, glorius music, and the mysterious girl, they were all gone, as if nothing had happened. Where there was a grove of living willows, now stood a clump of bare-branced, unrecognizable, mostly-dead trees. "What sorcery is this," he called out suddenly, to no one in particular. It was now that he noticed, that his misty form, was now not-so-misty, the feeling of floating along with the wind was gone, and he was cold...cold, wet and hungry. It was getting dark. "Dark," he wondered? Just a few minutes ago it was 11 AM. Was this some unresearched side-effect of his grandfather's draught? Well, gramps was always a strange old man, known for his pioneers into the field of quantom-spacial transteleportation magics. Maybe there was a hidden meaning to the way the "Draught of Misty Form" actually worked. And what was with the strange visuals? The singing girl? What did it mean? Was he losing his mind? Sighing wistfully, Darren trudged through the muddy grove of dead trees, cold, hungry and most of all, lonely. After awhile he came upon a rustic log cabin sitting alone beside a stagnant-looking pond that was as lifeless as everything else around here. The exterior of the cabin itself looked in relatively good shape, aside from rust hanging off of the hinges. He slowly opened the door, and to his surprise, a small fire was already burning in the cabin's tiny fireplace. "That's funny," he whispered, the plumes of smoke that he saw earlier, were gone by the time the sun went down. From the outside the place looked deserted. Something was cooking in a pot on the fire. The smell of boiling broth of some sort wafted about the confines of the cabin. Aside from the blankets, the fire and the pot there were no other signs of habitation. And outside, there was certainly no one nearby. Darren could see for at least 1/2 mile in each direction due to the absence of visible foilage. Oh well, he was never one to turn down free hospitality, as long as no one cared he was taking advantage of it. He sampled from the pot questioningly and was plesantly surprised at it's contents, a heavy stew of some sort containing lamb and potatos, seasoned lightly with garlic and rosemary. Whoever owned this cabin had a good sense of taste. He curled up in the pile of blankets with a bowl of stew, ate heartily and closed his eyes. Drifting off slowly into the dark cavern of sleep, Darren sighed softly. All would be well in the morning. He dreamed a dreamless sleep, trapped in the misty confines of the night, feeling at peace with each and every thing. Darren awoke when it was still dark to the sound of soft breathing. It was still dark, he hadn't been out long, but someone, or some-thing was definantly in the cabin with him, more specifically right next to him under the soft blankets. His eyes jerked open suddenly to find that he was being held in a soft embrace by the same girl who he had seen in the woods earlier, still dressed(barely) in that same sheer dress as before. The girl with the voice like an angel. What the hell was SHE doing here? And more to the point, what in God's holy name was he doing here wrapped in the soft embrace of a woman he didn't even know, a sleeping one no less?!? Darren didn't even sleep with his old girlfriend. He was old fashioned. The most he'd ever gotten from a girl was a sisterly peck on the cheek after a pleasant dinner. What kind of strange woman got her kicks, sleeping with strange men who wandered into her cabin, uninvited late at night. This was quite a startle. He slowly removed her arm from around his chest so as not to wake her and took one of the blankets, wrapping himself up to block the chill on the other side of the still-blazing fire. He sat awake for a while staring at the sleeping girl. Her beauty was almost too much to take. Her hair was being worn down now and he could see that the way it framed her face made her appear even more angelic. She breathed softly, and a smile slowly spread accross her sleeping face. What could she be thinking, Darren questioned himself. And he himself began to drift off into a deep, dreamless sleep. He was awakened the next morning when he heard the soft sound of her voice singing, once again. He opened his eyes, to see her reclining in an armchair he didn't notice before staring at him. She had the most lovely steely-blue eyes one could imagine, one could see one's soul reflected perfectly in them. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap and Darren could see that she was now wearing absolutely nothing. He turned away quickly in shame and heard a nymph-like laugh emerge from the girl's general direction, followed by a luxuriously pleasant voice. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------