05-12-2015, 03:36 PM
He is flung into the blackness of space.
He doesn’t know it of course. The colt who belongs on earth doesn’t understand his new reality; he only knows that he had been compelled to it. He accepts his choice, accepts that everything is out of his control now. Or rather, so much in his control that he can’t comprehend the consequences. He opens his eyes anyway, knowing it is too late to turn back.
The stars become brighter, beacons where pinpricks had existed before. There is no wind, no warmth, no movement to be found, save for that which he creates. He moves forward across a thin strip of alienrock. It’s sleek, and if his feet could detect heat, they would find it as cold as the Tundra’s ice. He has no destination in mind (the others linger behind him with their own schemes and plans, he’s sure) but something tells him to keep moving. Whether it’s the voice that called him here in the first place, Ramiel isn’t sure. To stop is death. He feels it in his marrow, and he moves on.
As the bridge narrows, however, he grows more nervous. Both sides drop away hundreds of feet into the endless vacuum he temporarily calls home. Strange triangular creatures like manta rays float by underneath, oblivious to the strangeness of their home. One misstep would mean certain death. The black colt is nothing special; he has no gifts or traits to his name, nothing to assist him on this journey. He feels almost foolish, as if he’s signed his life away for the whim of a god. But how could he refuse? How could he ignore that voice when it moved his vertebrae one by one, when it picked his feet up across stones and logs?
He freezes when the bridge cracks under his feet. The colt had been carelessly lost in his mind (as he often was) and he hadn’t been paying attention. A glow on the other side of the pass further distracts him. It’s eerie in the stillness, that light. But he can’t focus any longer, because just as he tries, the bridge finally gives way under his weight. Instead of falling, though, it simply disintegrates. The boy scrambles for purchase on the ever-breaking rock which turns to pebbles and then to dust, finally disappearing altogether. He is helpless and in his fear, he calls out to Joscelin in his mind. Help!
One of the space-mantas seems to pick up on his call, or perhaps his fear. It glides over, cutting through the air with fins that are much sharper upon closer inspection. Ramiel pulls back instinctively, but there is something unnerving and calming in the creature’s eyes – a softness he hadn’t expected in this hard place. It lowers its wing and suddenly, the colt finds himself stabilized. He walks onto the creature’s wing and then further onto its back. It’s just as tough as the alienrock had been (maybe all things must be in space).
He tries to connect with the creature again, guiding it to the glowing light with his mind. Shockingly, it seems to understand. The manta pushes away from the downed bridge, and in two flaps of its overlarge wings, it reaches the light. Ramiel is pleasantly surprised to find it warm as well. He hops off of the space creature, sending all the gratitude and warmth he can to it with his mind. He is here, but where is here, exactly?
He doesn’t know it of course. The colt who belongs on earth doesn’t understand his new reality; he only knows that he had been compelled to it. He accepts his choice, accepts that everything is out of his control now. Or rather, so much in his control that he can’t comprehend the consequences. He opens his eyes anyway, knowing it is too late to turn back.
The stars become brighter, beacons where pinpricks had existed before. There is no wind, no warmth, no movement to be found, save for that which he creates. He moves forward across a thin strip of alienrock. It’s sleek, and if his feet could detect heat, they would find it as cold as the Tundra’s ice. He has no destination in mind (the others linger behind him with their own schemes and plans, he’s sure) but something tells him to keep moving. Whether it’s the voice that called him here in the first place, Ramiel isn’t sure. To stop is death. He feels it in his marrow, and he moves on.
As the bridge narrows, however, he grows more nervous. Both sides drop away hundreds of feet into the endless vacuum he temporarily calls home. Strange triangular creatures like manta rays float by underneath, oblivious to the strangeness of their home. One misstep would mean certain death. The black colt is nothing special; he has no gifts or traits to his name, nothing to assist him on this journey. He feels almost foolish, as if he’s signed his life away for the whim of a god. But how could he refuse? How could he ignore that voice when it moved his vertebrae one by one, when it picked his feet up across stones and logs?
He freezes when the bridge cracks under his feet. The colt had been carelessly lost in his mind (as he often was) and he hadn’t been paying attention. A glow on the other side of the pass further distracts him. It’s eerie in the stillness, that light. But he can’t focus any longer, because just as he tries, the bridge finally gives way under his weight. Instead of falling, though, it simply disintegrates. The boy scrambles for purchase on the ever-breaking rock which turns to pebbles and then to dust, finally disappearing altogether. He is helpless and in his fear, he calls out to Joscelin in his mind. Help!
One of the space-mantas seems to pick up on his call, or perhaps his fear. It glides over, cutting through the air with fins that are much sharper upon closer inspection. Ramiel pulls back instinctively, but there is something unnerving and calming in the creature’s eyes – a softness he hadn’t expected in this hard place. It lowers its wing and suddenly, the colt finds himself stabilized. He walks onto the creature’s wing and then further onto its back. It’s just as tough as the alienrock had been (maybe all things must be in space).
He tries to connect with the creature again, guiding it to the glowing light with his mind. Shockingly, it seems to understand. The manta pushes away from the downed bridge, and in two flaps of its overlarge wings, it reaches the light. Ramiel is pleasantly surprised to find it warm as well. He hops off of the space creature, sending all the gratitude and warmth he can to it with his mind. He is here, but where is here, exactly?