~Hakurei Shrine~ > Kosuzu's Grand Bookstore
Weekly Writing Challenge Thread the First
LogosOfJ:
Accursed school trips... This was written in less than 2 hours while ill with dysentery. Hence the drabble-ish, low key bombast as opposed to my usual sweeping, operatic bombast.
Initial concept ripped directly from inspired by A New World series by IcedFairy. Dialogue heavily influenced by Immortal Defense.
Philemon's Love
==
Two women stood at the torii of a small shrine opposite a third.
The two women could have hardly been more different in appearance. One was garbed in the robes of a shrine maiden, and stood steadily on a pair of geta. Her face and skin were wrinkled, but her hands did not tremble. One wielded a gohei with practiced ease, while the other tightly gripped an intricate tsurugi.
The other was a tangle of metal that, against expectations, retained for now vaguely human form. The few visible patches of flesh were pale and turgid, simultaneously reminiscent of infants and corpses. The metal woman was garbed in a short-sleeved shirt and pants. In one hand rested an octagonal furnace, the wielder's long-serving hakkero. The other hand grasped a weapon more exotic still, a device of a design from the Outside World, an exploitation of harsh, uncaring rules that flung bits of metal at impressive speeds.
The third woman was outwardly young, and carried herself almost carelessly. She was garbed in white and purple, and her only armament was a folding fan of cloth and wood. Her eldritch nature was heralded by her seat, a toothless mouth teeming with eyes and arms. As she spoke, she made sweeping gestures, finally deciding to point to the sky.
"My dear friends, do not you see? The age of humans has ended."
The third woman pointed, first at the geriatric shrine maiden, then at the clockwork woman, who hissed and clicked as she first crumbled and then burrowed into the ground, growing and churning.
The shrine maiden glowed, and screamed as she became a god.
==
Disgusting.
Such creatures are only disgusting.
They are less than chattel, little more than belief-fodder, incapable of questioning, incapable of invention, incapable of anything other than prostration. Agriculture is a miracle to be preserved; writing has become little more than another ritual carried out by the priesthood. Only after a century of their slow, stubborn decline did I realize the importance of renewal, of the loud and destructive but novel stirrings.
The potential to achieve godhood is, as far as ascertainable, intrinsic to aspects fundamental to humanity.
These beings are less than pathetic, strange proto-monsters.
And I must rule them.
I am imprisoned here, doomed to jump from vessel to vessel as some Great Ghost, to ordain the birth of another human from the wombs of fettered grotesques. My sentence for attempting to die for my people is to live on, witnessing their shells mime them.
Once, just once, for a few short decades, one maid turned back the clock, and granted to me some degree of hope. And yet I was still a god, and I did not die before the end.
Other gods whisper to me, but their time as objects of worship to these inferior beings has made them crass and simple.
One fellow, whom I dare not call a god, is perhaps the only unconquered pillar of humanity. What irony that she is least human of us all. A grave-tree, if you will, a memorial that already looms vast and ineffable above what it commemorates. She is my light, the last shining beacon outside my barren dominion, the last star that a god of light can dare to embrace.
Why..... Am I alone?
Why..... Is this not an attractor?.... Why.... do not others..... achieve the same.....
Did she really..... have..... Did she really.... want..... Stillness and Movement?
==
The Sage of Eight Clouds sighed as she sipped her tea, attended by her three servants. She smiled at her two guests and the entourage of spirits that floated behind them.
The newer spirits were of considerably lower quality, and were so similar to each other that they might have been shavings of one great ghost, scattered through space and time. The second of her guests, servant of the first, would, as a hobby, form artificial spirits from incoming ones. A menagerie of her creations followed her, ranging from those in the mold of the Old Dead to shapes that would have been fantastic to anyone but the mistress of boundaries.
Looking at those shapes, the Sage recalled the past, where soulless beings strove unerringly to create their own magic, create life beyond the limits of soul and will. She recalled the ardor with which they coveted possibilities, sprouting new branches with alarming frequency.
Isolation is not enough for a garden. Good grooming is also necessary. A few snips, a few grafts, and an unruly bush is revealed as the hedge it is willed to be. Small grains of sand and the proper concoctions produce cysts and knots and other features that interrupt monotony in bonsai, producing pleasing whorls at the cost of the occasional canker.
Perhaps it did not have to be this way. It is certainly less exciting, even though the same motions are made. Victory without struggle is hardly entertaining.
Iced Fairy:
Well I was going to do this anyway, but I got called away until very very early, so I'm a little late on the announcement.
Deadline extension: One week.
Thanks to our two entrants who were on time, and know you two that you may edit and alter your works in the extra week.
Nobu:
Foreword:
In my headcanon I always envisioned Suwako as the least na?ve of the Moriya shrine group, on account of having ruled a thriving kingdom for so long. Sure, Kanako is taller and has larger endowment, but what is physical form to goddesses aside from personal preference? Using one?s eyes to measure maturity in goddesses is a fickle science. Which is probably why I also have the tendency to like the ?wizened loli? types, haha. If a god chose to walk amongst humans, wouldn?t a form like Suwako?s be the humbler of the two? Those big breasted immortals have something to prove! P:
This is probably also why my headcanon places Suwako as the dominant submissive of the pair. She enjoys being along for the ride, but only lets someone she trusts behind the wheel. But now maybe I?m saying too much.
This is a short short story. I tried making this chock full of complexities (or perhaps better put, I was in the mood for a complex piece), but it might just be disjointed and confusing. I?m not quite sure. It looks good in my head I guess! Haha.
This is also a love story. Probably.
Aurora of Perspective
?Are you sure about this, Moriya-sama??
?Not at all, but I see no other option. Does your foresight see beyond my own??
**************************************
The aged sun blanketed the fields of gold with warmth. The rivers, once sapphires, glittered as rubies under the dazzling light of midday.
Today was a day like any other, a day like no other. Gone were the hands that tilled the soil, reduced to warm bodies that scattered the landscape like a hailstorm moments passed. This scene was brought about by natural causes. Earth, wind, and rain had buffeted the landscape moments prior, the sky and heavens lit ablaze in the cataclysm of war.
Yet at the vantage point of Suwa of Moriya, the lightly upturned soil that filled her vision seemed almost peaceful. Fat trickles of sweat beaded down her neck and rolled down to splat on the earth in front of her. While a goddess had no need to sweat, Suwa had grown accustomed to human nature and relished such small reminders of a shared humanity. The sting of sweat in her eyes served as a passive reminder not to forget the lives that had been lost that day.
Or was it weeks? This was the first time since the war started that Suwa no Hime, god of earth and mountains, had stopped to consider time. For an immortal, time is what she has found to separate god from mortal the most. Any stretch of time was a drop in the bucket to her celestial timeline, and in that stretch thousands of drops were lost into the great river and contributed to its crimson hue. Blood was the mortal sign that she chose not to shed. Sweat, to her, was an acceptable humble feature to don. Souls can be taxed, regardless of the vessel.
But what do immortals know about death?
In a moment?s eternity, Suwa-no-hime lifted her head skyward. Taking hold of the outstretched hand, she meekly accepted her fate.
**********************
Today, the sky grew restless. The sun burned high in the sky like any other day. The teeming lake was the color of emeralds.
Kanako cleared her throat. ?Hey, Suwako.?
Suwako turned away from the lake?s reflection to address the fellow goddess, curious at the hint of tension in Kanako?s voice. ?What?s up? Something bothering you??
?I?ve been thinking.?
?Uh-oh. Are you planning on raising rent again? I thought I made last month?s payment on time..? Suwako feigned genuine distress.
?No, it?s nothing like that! I was thinking about.. before.?
?Yes?? Suwako swiveled to face Kanako, feet and palm squarely placed on the earth. The mountain goddess leaned forward in full attention, gaze directed upward through the wisps of bangs into the sky goddess?s downturned face. She could taste the rivulets of tension in the air on her tongue, a familiar taste reminiscent of an older time.
Kanako stared into her eyes, and her soul fell right in.
**********
The gaze of an infinite being is not to be taken lightly. Eyes are a window into the soul, and a god?s pupil the window to a cosmos. To a mortal?s limited perspective, a deity?s eyes are iridescent displays of ever-changing color. Suwako?s eyes were typically a rolling cascade of earthy hues, but this time distinct red regions roiled at the edges and flecked the outskirts of her blue irises. Then purple. When Kanako saw her own face staring down at her reflected in the abyss, she finally broke her gaze.
******
The sun bore low in the horizon. The sound of wind chimes drifted in the slow breeze to Kanako?s ears, signaling evening.
Suwako was the first to speak.
?I do not blame you any more than I blame the stars and sky, the wind and earth, nor the lakes and streams. When we bear the trappings of mortals, we participate vicariously in their cycles.? Suwa began to trace a circle in the air with an index finger, outlining the onibashira on Kanako?s back.
?Life and death. Rise and fall. We are infinite beings, but we choose to perch on the same vistas that humans do, do we not?? Suwako looked to Kanako for an answer.
?Well, yes.. but..? Before Kanako could finish her thought, Suwako pressed on.
?What can we do aside from live on? Where does blame enter the picture? You come to me with a heavy heart, Yasaka Kanako. And a heavy chest to boot.? Suwako piped.
Kanako twitched visibly at that remark, but was not in the mood to retort in her usual fashion. Her head drooped.
?Aww, did I go too far there? Cheer up Kana-chan, It?s almost dinner! Sanae will be coming around clanging that infernal triangle she scavenged any minute now! Who taught her that, anyway?? Suwako rose to her feet and brushed her knees off, and stretched a hand out to the fellow goddess.
Kanako took the outstretched hand in her own. This time, it was Suwako who gave the reassuring squeeze.
The gesture was not lost on Kanako, her mind still caught in the throes of millennia past.
Her heart stirred. A seed planted.
With every end, there is a new beginning.
*
Iced Fairy:
Come on you lot, there's 8 posts left in this thread and I want them to be filled with fics!
Those of you who are already done can have complementary strawberry ice cream.
capt. h:
It?s dark. I can?t see anything at all, so I make to get up and *bump* my head on something hard. I tap the ground ? wood. I tap the awfully low ceiling ? wood. I make to roll over and find wood again. So I?m stuck in a stuffy little wooden box. I summon a flame. No exits. Great. I?m stuck in a coffin, aren?t I?
How? How the hell did I get buried alive? Let?s see? Battle with neet, she smack talks me, I smack talk back, we kill each other, towards the end I get jabbed with a needle, rip it out, stab her with it, get my heart blasted out? then? nothing. Then I wake up in here.
Goddamn it. She poisoned me, didn?t she. Damn moon princess. Though I gotta say, I've never seen a poison this strong.
Well, time to get out of here. I blast through the top of the coffin, and get rewarded with a mouth full of dirt. Dirt, for the uninitiated, tastes like rocks mixed with an itty bit of feces, not something pleasant to have in your mouth. I?m six feet down, aren?t I? I wind up half clawing, half blasting my way through the grime. I swear I must have choked to death twice on the filth before I felt my hand break through. I pull myself up to my shoulders, and who do I find but the damn neet?s doctor.
She stares at me for a full minute before she decides to help me up. As we both worked on getting me out I had to ask, ?What the hell did you cook up??
?I believed it was a cure to immortality,? The nurse explains. ?It seems my hypothesis was mistaken.?
?Thanks for helping me up doc.? I say. Then I deck her. ?Don?t make any more dangerous crap like that. You could have killed me. So tell me doc, what brings you out to this?? I glance around. Tombstones. Lots of tombstones. ?cemetery.?
?Well, you pricked the princess in your battle, and you see...? Eirin trails off. I glance at the tombstone next to mine.
HERE LIES KAGUYA HOURAISAN
I buckle over laughing. ?You better start digging. The neet must be furious.?