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NaNoWriMo 2011 Day #18
Words In This Update - 2222
Total Words So Far - 40409
They say that all you need to fly is love. That when you're in love, you're high as can be, your wings spread out from within you, you can see the whole world and that you can conquer it, too. Nobody can stop you, nobody can keep you apart, and even if one of you dies, the spirit lives on and emboldens your heart a thousand fold, knowing that you would fly to greatest heights to have their memory preserved. That it makes you brave, want to take that leap, and dive in. You can course great rivers, brave razor winds, and bear the brunt of any steel or gunpowder, as it can dent your flesh, but it cannot wear your heart out.
Obviously, whoever said that has never seen a bullet or sword run through someone's chest and stick out the other end with a few arteries attached to it. Either that or they did and somehow made it extra poetic. Like the greatest, sappiest way to die. The ultimate sacrifice. I think whoever thought of any of this had to be completely tanked to the ears on mitter berry juice because the only thing I can think of dramatic enough to be worth sacrificing for is a ride on Laeshann's tits. That dream I had after my eye got torn out so fucking rudely showed me what a damn hottie she was and if you didn't want to nestle between them like a child to their mother, you're either batting for the guys' team only in bed, not that there's anything wrong with that, or dumb. Okay, maybe a pile of free money, like a lot of it, or some rare ores would also be worth some kind of sacrifice, but otherwise, whoever writes this junk is a huge sap. And probably a bard. Which means this advice sucks from the get go.
However, as it relates to flight and my current predicament what with the possibly developing feelings of the romantic kind for a certain rusty scaled lizard with gross sulfur breath, I had to copy it down just so the future generations know that any of these sayings that they here were just as dumb to us now as they probably are to you then. Unless you have amazingly bad taste and somehow find moral or relevance to all this. In which case you're probably full of cooties and can just go jump in a lake of lava. Though I bet you'd like that, you love masochist.
The only thing my heart was feeling was an intense urge to take these sketches and go adjust the wings I'd built most of the way some time ago. They were amazing sketches, and just what I'd needed to finalize them for flight. They'd work okay on their own; all the prototypes of them I built glided and moved along just fine, but they weren't special. There was no push to them nor style. This plane needed to be no less than spectacular, something that would be passed down via word of mouth in legend forevermore, both from the Stormlocks and the dragonkin. A raging beast that was matched in power and look by only its pilot. You can build the statues of me any day now, you know. Make them handsome and daring enough in expression that all women who gaze upon it long enough start to feel massively pregnant with my genius. And my children. I'm sure you fucking future sex wizards can come up with that shit by then. I'm counting on it!
The way Lock's wings spread and soared, flapping and grasping me in bed, pinning me down even, or fanning me after, anything they did showed me just what I needed to see. That flash of inspiration, her body arching and flames shooting out as she enjoyed the breeze on her face, that is what would save my tribe yet. And we all had the enemy to thank for it. Fuck my life, I never expected to get down and pray to Our Lady for creating these foul lizards for any reason beyond target practice. She may as well grow a cock, shove it down my throat, and splatter down my face with holy spray, making me beg for more. It'd be less humiliating.
I unlocked the container hidden under my scrap heap, opening up a side of the wagon it belonged to and pulling out the mostly complete frame and base I had made of my plane before starting this diary. It was still sturdy, but would require a few days to tweak. And it needed that engine. First things first though, was slowly shaping the wings and tail to the new specifications, making sure the body could handle it all as well. And speaking of body, it would need another seat added, right behind mine. I never dreamed of flying this anything but solo, but it's the least I could do is show Lock just how an elf flies. She showed me how she moves, without holding back nor thinking I'd use this to memorize attack patterns to betray her and shoot her or her kind down with, so I wanted to return the favor. For one of the first times in my long life, I could no longer just think of me first and give me give me. In just a few short days, my life had been completely flipped and I was on the verge of my dream, the verge of falling in love, and most of all, on the verge of possibly dying.
More than anything else, what should be concerning me now is the fact that death could be imminent. I could be murdered, I could be sent down in flames from the sky I want to reach out to so dear, and I could fail in my mission and send everyone here in the tribe to its untimely death. Not even the bards deserved that, as that would mean they'd both not die by my hands and die way too quickly. They ought to suffer as I have. And I ought to get to delight in it; a few seconds to their painless death is nowhere near enough time for me to laugh and watch their stupid instruments burn. That would just take the joy out of my day and then I'd have to kill everyone and everything extra hard and brutally. The last thing I'd need is to waste ammunition on such a worthless endeavor. They deserve a fiery, bullet filled death, those dragons, but I also had to make sure I brought enough for everyone to share. I don't want to be an impolite hostess now.
All that aside, I could die. Six hundred or so is somewhat respectable for a hunter elf. Not great but not bad. Would I have time to hop in and take off? Would I be sent down into the earth, to die alongside my plane, torn from our flight prematurely? Would I have even scored any kills? Would they be crashing it from the sky itself by their own hands or would I have miscalculated something along the way and crashed through no fault of anyone's but my own? All of this would be so miserable. My dream achieved, but only for a second, before it and my life were taken for daring to fly as an elf, serving as a warning to the others to not try to take up something as foolish as flight, when you cannot cast magic to keep you afloat.
It was all too real. It was all too depressing. I just wanted it to be over with, this stupid, upcoming fight, so that I could land and come home to the arms of the girl I now found myself loving, almost. Lock and her stupid face, I wanted to do this for her almost more than I wanted to do it for me now. If me even last week could come up to me now and tell me where I'd be and how I'd be feeling right now, I'd laugh at her and tell her to go snort some more berries. Funny how shit changes. Even for a tribe that lives so long, it can all come crashing down on you so fast. I couldn't have expected it, even if my skeptical genius mind should have told me to.
Fuck, I'm rambling. But I've had a rough couple weeks now and who could blame me for sounding like this was the end? After all, the fate of my people rested on if I could fire and aim properly from a contraption thrown into the sky, all built by my calloused, bare, oiled and filthy hands. The only thing I could do was vent my true feelings about this here and now, and keep a dumb, brave, loud face in front of the others, even if it meant sounding more like the bigot I used to be than what I feel I am now.
The week passed much like this. I would go to make adjustments, I'd laugh and joke and snarl at the other elves, all the while feeling despair deep in my gut and realizing that just because people are of different races, no matter how radically different, we were all just people. I was growing up, much far too late, almost as if I was coming of age all over again, only without the messy rituals. By The Embers, I was even having enough hormonal surges and bouts of wanting to fuck my dragon that it could count as a second puberty. I even found myself turning to things like drugs and booze, which I never did, just to sleep at night and free my mind from all this fucking chaos.
All that was left was testing out the engine and making sure it was ready for sunrise. They'd be here soon after, and the sun was setting just then. The plane was together, and would support our combined weight. We sat in it and revved it up, adjusting our goggles, wearing cheap padded helmets I threw together in an hour or so. I was almost out of scrap; fancy plate caps would have to wait for another time. I silently prayed to Laeshann and took a deep breath, swallowing my pride and just betting it all on that turn of a key.
I wouldn't be writing this if it didn't work.
We made a small, quiet test flight from one end of the basin where the Solim Mines sat to the other. It was smooth. Not a single thing went bad. The sunset looked remarkable from this view, quite unlike any other time I'd seen it in those six hundred or so years alive. Wind whipped in my hair at a speed and in a way different from any wind with my feet still on the ground. There was a beauty to everything, and for a short minute, I felt time stop and my heart raise up into my throat almost.
I'd won. I'd achieved my dream. I could fly, as free as beasts could. As free as Lock could. The sky, and maybe someday, should I survive, the world would be mine to freely see. And best of all, I could give others this feeling by building more and more. Think of how easily the world could travel on it. And they'd have my genius to thank. You guys are getting those statues built, correct? Yeah, I thought so. By now you all owe me them made out of the finest marble around and encrusted in thick, fat precious gems in strategic spots. Make my eyes especially bewitching now!
After we landed, Lock placed her hand on my shoulder and smiled. “Congratulations, boss elf! Lock knew she could count on you.”
I don't know what came over me, but I turned around and kissed her. The most soft, warm, genuine kiss I'd ever given anyone. Helm in hand and hands wrapped around her warmly. Tears flowing from my cheeks. I nestled myself to her breast and bawled. I swore not to let her die. I swore not to die. But I admitted I was scared. I swore on Our Lady's name that I would come out of this with the best solution possible. That we would all be able to have the freedom I felt.
And that I loved her.
It's now morning. The sun will be up in an hour at most. I'm laying next to Lock, having slept with her again, just in case it would be the last time I could. It was time for me to face my destiny. I woke her with another kiss and sighed, holding her for a bit before getting up to get ready and guard my plane. Our plane. I didn't want to go, but it was time to put my money where my mouth was.
I could only pray my ego was big enough to ring true and stomp them all. May Laeshann have mercy on us yet.
-Basira Nejem
Dawn of the fifteenth day of the third week of spring in the year 367 in which I would hope would become a day to live on in Stormlock lore forevermore
Total Words So Far - 40409
They say that all you need to fly is love. That when you're in love, you're high as can be, your wings spread out from within you, you can see the whole world and that you can conquer it, too. Nobody can stop you, nobody can keep you apart, and even if one of you dies, the spirit lives on and emboldens your heart a thousand fold, knowing that you would fly to greatest heights to have their memory preserved. That it makes you brave, want to take that leap, and dive in. You can course great rivers, brave razor winds, and bear the brunt of any steel or gunpowder, as it can dent your flesh, but it cannot wear your heart out.
Obviously, whoever said that has never seen a bullet or sword run through someone's chest and stick out the other end with a few arteries attached to it. Either that or they did and somehow made it extra poetic. Like the greatest, sappiest way to die. The ultimate sacrifice. I think whoever thought of any of this had to be completely tanked to the ears on mitter berry juice because the only thing I can think of dramatic enough to be worth sacrificing for is a ride on Laeshann's tits. That dream I had after my eye got torn out so fucking rudely showed me what a damn hottie she was and if you didn't want to nestle between them like a child to their mother, you're either batting for the guys' team only in bed, not that there's anything wrong with that, or dumb. Okay, maybe a pile of free money, like a lot of it, or some rare ores would also be worth some kind of sacrifice, but otherwise, whoever writes this junk is a huge sap. And probably a bard. Which means this advice sucks from the get go.
However, as it relates to flight and my current predicament what with the possibly developing feelings of the romantic kind for a certain rusty scaled lizard with gross sulfur breath, I had to copy it down just so the future generations know that any of these sayings that they here were just as dumb to us now as they probably are to you then. Unless you have amazingly bad taste and somehow find moral or relevance to all this. In which case you're probably full of cooties and can just go jump in a lake of lava. Though I bet you'd like that, you love masochist.
The only thing my heart was feeling was an intense urge to take these sketches and go adjust the wings I'd built most of the way some time ago. They were amazing sketches, and just what I'd needed to finalize them for flight. They'd work okay on their own; all the prototypes of them I built glided and moved along just fine, but they weren't special. There was no push to them nor style. This plane needed to be no less than spectacular, something that would be passed down via word of mouth in legend forevermore, both from the Stormlocks and the dragonkin. A raging beast that was matched in power and look by only its pilot. You can build the statues of me any day now, you know. Make them handsome and daring enough in expression that all women who gaze upon it long enough start to feel massively pregnant with my genius. And my children. I'm sure you fucking future sex wizards can come up with that shit by then. I'm counting on it!
The way Lock's wings spread and soared, flapping and grasping me in bed, pinning me down even, or fanning me after, anything they did showed me just what I needed to see. That flash of inspiration, her body arching and flames shooting out as she enjoyed the breeze on her face, that is what would save my tribe yet. And we all had the enemy to thank for it. Fuck my life, I never expected to get down and pray to Our Lady for creating these foul lizards for any reason beyond target practice. She may as well grow a cock, shove it down my throat, and splatter down my face with holy spray, making me beg for more. It'd be less humiliating.
I unlocked the container hidden under my scrap heap, opening up a side of the wagon it belonged to and pulling out the mostly complete frame and base I had made of my plane before starting this diary. It was still sturdy, but would require a few days to tweak. And it needed that engine. First things first though, was slowly shaping the wings and tail to the new specifications, making sure the body could handle it all as well. And speaking of body, it would need another seat added, right behind mine. I never dreamed of flying this anything but solo, but it's the least I could do is show Lock just how an elf flies. She showed me how she moves, without holding back nor thinking I'd use this to memorize attack patterns to betray her and shoot her or her kind down with, so I wanted to return the favor. For one of the first times in my long life, I could no longer just think of me first and give me give me. In just a few short days, my life had been completely flipped and I was on the verge of my dream, the verge of falling in love, and most of all, on the verge of possibly dying.
More than anything else, what should be concerning me now is the fact that death could be imminent. I could be murdered, I could be sent down in flames from the sky I want to reach out to so dear, and I could fail in my mission and send everyone here in the tribe to its untimely death. Not even the bards deserved that, as that would mean they'd both not die by my hands and die way too quickly. They ought to suffer as I have. And I ought to get to delight in it; a few seconds to their painless death is nowhere near enough time for me to laugh and watch their stupid instruments burn. That would just take the joy out of my day and then I'd have to kill everyone and everything extra hard and brutally. The last thing I'd need is to waste ammunition on such a worthless endeavor. They deserve a fiery, bullet filled death, those dragons, but I also had to make sure I brought enough for everyone to share. I don't want to be an impolite hostess now.
All that aside, I could die. Six hundred or so is somewhat respectable for a hunter elf. Not great but not bad. Would I have time to hop in and take off? Would I be sent down into the earth, to die alongside my plane, torn from our flight prematurely? Would I have even scored any kills? Would they be crashing it from the sky itself by their own hands or would I have miscalculated something along the way and crashed through no fault of anyone's but my own? All of this would be so miserable. My dream achieved, but only for a second, before it and my life were taken for daring to fly as an elf, serving as a warning to the others to not try to take up something as foolish as flight, when you cannot cast magic to keep you afloat.
It was all too real. It was all too depressing. I just wanted it to be over with, this stupid, upcoming fight, so that I could land and come home to the arms of the girl I now found myself loving, almost. Lock and her stupid face, I wanted to do this for her almost more than I wanted to do it for me now. If me even last week could come up to me now and tell me where I'd be and how I'd be feeling right now, I'd laugh at her and tell her to go snort some more berries. Funny how shit changes. Even for a tribe that lives so long, it can all come crashing down on you so fast. I couldn't have expected it, even if my skeptical genius mind should have told me to.
Fuck, I'm rambling. But I've had a rough couple weeks now and who could blame me for sounding like this was the end? After all, the fate of my people rested on if I could fire and aim properly from a contraption thrown into the sky, all built by my calloused, bare, oiled and filthy hands. The only thing I could do was vent my true feelings about this here and now, and keep a dumb, brave, loud face in front of the others, even if it meant sounding more like the bigot I used to be than what I feel I am now.
The week passed much like this. I would go to make adjustments, I'd laugh and joke and snarl at the other elves, all the while feeling despair deep in my gut and realizing that just because people are of different races, no matter how radically different, we were all just people. I was growing up, much far too late, almost as if I was coming of age all over again, only without the messy rituals. By The Embers, I was even having enough hormonal surges and bouts of wanting to fuck my dragon that it could count as a second puberty. I even found myself turning to things like drugs and booze, which I never did, just to sleep at night and free my mind from all this fucking chaos.
All that was left was testing out the engine and making sure it was ready for sunrise. They'd be here soon after, and the sun was setting just then. The plane was together, and would support our combined weight. We sat in it and revved it up, adjusting our goggles, wearing cheap padded helmets I threw together in an hour or so. I was almost out of scrap; fancy plate caps would have to wait for another time. I silently prayed to Laeshann and took a deep breath, swallowing my pride and just betting it all on that turn of a key.
I wouldn't be writing this if it didn't work.
We made a small, quiet test flight from one end of the basin where the Solim Mines sat to the other. It was smooth. Not a single thing went bad. The sunset looked remarkable from this view, quite unlike any other time I'd seen it in those six hundred or so years alive. Wind whipped in my hair at a speed and in a way different from any wind with my feet still on the ground. There was a beauty to everything, and for a short minute, I felt time stop and my heart raise up into my throat almost.
I'd won. I'd achieved my dream. I could fly, as free as beasts could. As free as Lock could. The sky, and maybe someday, should I survive, the world would be mine to freely see. And best of all, I could give others this feeling by building more and more. Think of how easily the world could travel on it. And they'd have my genius to thank. You guys are getting those statues built, correct? Yeah, I thought so. By now you all owe me them made out of the finest marble around and encrusted in thick, fat precious gems in strategic spots. Make my eyes especially bewitching now!
After we landed, Lock placed her hand on my shoulder and smiled. “Congratulations, boss elf! Lock knew she could count on you.”
I don't know what came over me, but I turned around and kissed her. The most soft, warm, genuine kiss I'd ever given anyone. Helm in hand and hands wrapped around her warmly. Tears flowing from my cheeks. I nestled myself to her breast and bawled. I swore not to let her die. I swore not to die. But I admitted I was scared. I swore on Our Lady's name that I would come out of this with the best solution possible. That we would all be able to have the freedom I felt.
And that I loved her.
It's now morning. The sun will be up in an hour at most. I'm laying next to Lock, having slept with her again, just in case it would be the last time I could. It was time for me to face my destiny. I woke her with another kiss and sighed, holding her for a bit before getting up to get ready and guard my plane. Our plane. I didn't want to go, but it was time to put my money where my mouth was.
I could only pray my ego was big enough to ring true and stomp them all. May Laeshann have mercy on us yet.
-Basira Nejem
Dawn of the fifteenth day of the third week of spring in the year 367 in which I would hope would become a day to live on in Stormlock lore forevermore