Damaia (i_cast) wrote in we_coexist, @ 2011-10-23 00:49:00 |
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Entry tags: | baba yaga, stand still |
Beware the quiet after the storm [narrative]
The crone had disappeared after the storm. With the godlike intervention, the crone knew she'd be able to change back, and rather than change and rush to Eric to give him the good news, the crone still in the Jack like form hid away in the cabin on the chicken legs. The storm had not been enough, and the brief meetings between the storm and the godlike reluctant hero, including said godlike reluctant hero, the crone had discovered something about herself. She was still on her own damn path that was created long before she was fully aware of what she was, a Fable, a story. She had shown them ways, opened doors, even the boy who wasn't half as brave or tough as he'd have liked to think. She had fought to free herself of this tradition, of what had been her predestination; she tried to twist what she was to be as well as twist others. The City need to see that its path could be altered and perhaps should be.
So, she hid away in her cabin. She mixed potions, read what texts she had, drew diagrams, and planned. The beast, her brilliant Beast, had started that dark mind to thinking with his sheets and sheets of paper about blood and life and DNA. She knew long ago that blood was powerful; she'd discovered that the blood of any of the City's creations could be used against it. She had discovered also that the City was tied to the people in it; it could feel, for lack of a better word, how those within it felt. She often thought the people, the City's children, were more than just the white noise, but she'd yet to test it beyond annoying the City with particular attentions she paid to the children.
The crone could gather the City children's blood easily, but perhaps it was time to go beyond those who were so much a part of the City. She had someone she could use, hide behind, if she worked him right. The City would eventually be at her will rather than the other way around. Now all she had to do was gather the ingredients for one hell of a spell.
With a smile on her lips and a dress over her womanly hips, Baba Yaga emerged from her strange cabin. It was time to set a few things straight.