kawa~ inspiration #140
May. 7th, 2006 03:49 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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yrae
Title~ Evil
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ Mine~~
Notes~ kawa~ 140. Another introductory thing, which I will probably rewrite again some time, because Yan is a BASTARD. From someone else's point of view, Yan is hella fun to write, but when he's the subject? He's a complicated, contradictory BASTARD. Plus it's impossible to sum him up in a single page of fic. I could do character in one and past in another one or two, but the whole lot in one? Bloody impossible.
And so, we introduce random kiddie the third, who I dub Jimmy. Good onya Jimmy. You've served me well.
But yeah. Yan was the first king of Raykin, but the power got to his head and he turned into a tyrant, so his chief advisor, Qewir, killed him and banished the rest of his family to the desert. There. That was SO MUCH EASIER. Also, yes, he's the one Ni-Yana was named after (Ni means city/town/village/whatever, and the suffix -a is like -'s in English. So Ni-Yana = Yan's City.)
Oh yeah! And because I know~ you're all going to pronounce yrae wrong (I've met ONE person who could do it right without me telling them how), here's a handy pronunciation thingie I did years ago. Which I really need to do again
~ ~ ~
Yan sighed as he sat down on the edge of the cliff and squinted out over the rusty red desert of what had once, in centuries gone by, been his kingdom. He folded his wide, black wings loosely against his back before slipping the silver ring from his finger and placing it on the ground beside him, causing the impressive wingspan to disappear completely. He jolted forward slightly, always forgetful of the incredible weight of his wings until he took the ring off.
The fallen king rolled his shoulders a few times and looked up at the dazzling expanse of blue above him, reminded as ever of the yrae that had given him the means to fly, though of course, its brilliant feathers had made the sky behind it seem cloudy.
It had been more than four thousand years ago now, and while whole decades had blurred into the background, those few precious seconds still remained etched in his mind. As he smiled up at the sky, he could feel the bowstring in his fingers as he pulled it back to take aim at the bird. A breeze wafted gently at his face, reminding him of the too-big wingspan of the yrae, feathered in navy so rich it would make the night seem washed out, and white so pristine that newly-fallen Kazinian snow would look dirty.
It wasn’t the feathers that had fascinated him back then though. As with anyone who might see the beautiful creature, his eyes had been fixed on the twinkling sapphire at the tip of its fluttering, ribbon-like tail. It was this stone that was now inlaid into the silver ring in the sand beside him, still twinkling with the same inner starlight as the day he’d found it.
A shuffling sound dragged Yan from his thoughts, and he turned his head slightly to see a young boy sitting down beside him, maybe twelve years old.
“You looked lonely,” the boy said by way of explanation.
“I prefer solitude.”
The boy didn’t take the hint. “All the time?”
“Yes.”
“Even when you go to bed at night?” The boy hugged his knees, his voice dropping to a quieter volume as he asked this.
Yan chose not to answer. He didn’t sleep. Not now. That was what had killed him, and he was terrified of it. Qewir had come into his bed chamber in the middle of the night.
The fallen king held a hand up to his face, where the scar over his left eye had begun to throb again.
The boy was looking at him curiously. “Are you scared of the dark too?”
“No.” He may have answered too quickly then. It wasn’t the dark he was afraid of, merely sleep.
“Not even a tiny little bit?”
“No.”
“But don’t you get scared that something might jump out of the shadows and attack you?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Yan couldn’t stop the malice tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I am the something.”
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ Mine~~
Notes~ kawa~ 140. Another introductory thing, which I will probably rewrite again some time, because Yan is a BASTARD. From someone else's point of view, Yan is hella fun to write, but when he's the subject? He's a complicated, contradictory BASTARD. Plus it's impossible to sum him up in a single page of fic. I could do character in one and past in another one or two, but the whole lot in one? Bloody impossible.
And so, we introduce random kiddie the third, who I dub Jimmy. Good onya Jimmy. You've served me well.
But yeah. Yan was the first king of Raykin, but the power got to his head and he turned into a tyrant, so his chief advisor, Qewir, killed him and banished the rest of his family to the desert. There. That was SO MUCH EASIER. Also, yes, he's the one Ni-Yana was named after (Ni means city/town/village/whatever, and the suffix -a is like -'s in English. So Ni-Yana = Yan's City.)
Oh yeah! And because I know~ you're all going to pronounce yrae wrong (I've met ONE person who could do it right without me telling them how), here's a handy pronunciation thingie I did years ago. Which I really need to do again
Yan sighed as he sat down on the edge of the cliff and squinted out over the rusty red desert of what had once, in centuries gone by, been his kingdom. He folded his wide, black wings loosely against his back before slipping the silver ring from his finger and placing it on the ground beside him, causing the impressive wingspan to disappear completely. He jolted forward slightly, always forgetful of the incredible weight of his wings until he took the ring off.
The fallen king rolled his shoulders a few times and looked up at the dazzling expanse of blue above him, reminded as ever of the yrae that had given him the means to fly, though of course, its brilliant feathers had made the sky behind it seem cloudy.
It had been more than four thousand years ago now, and while whole decades had blurred into the background, those few precious seconds still remained etched in his mind. As he smiled up at the sky, he could feel the bowstring in his fingers as he pulled it back to take aim at the bird. A breeze wafted gently at his face, reminding him of the too-big wingspan of the yrae, feathered in navy so rich it would make the night seem washed out, and white so pristine that newly-fallen Kazinian snow would look dirty.
It wasn’t the feathers that had fascinated him back then though. As with anyone who might see the beautiful creature, his eyes had been fixed on the twinkling sapphire at the tip of its fluttering, ribbon-like tail. It was this stone that was now inlaid into the silver ring in the sand beside him, still twinkling with the same inner starlight as the day he’d found it.
A shuffling sound dragged Yan from his thoughts, and he turned his head slightly to see a young boy sitting down beside him, maybe twelve years old.
“You looked lonely,” the boy said by way of explanation.
“I prefer solitude.”
The boy didn’t take the hint. “All the time?”
“Yes.”
“Even when you go to bed at night?” The boy hugged his knees, his voice dropping to a quieter volume as he asked this.
Yan chose not to answer. He didn’t sleep. Not now. That was what had killed him, and he was terrified of it. Qewir had come into his bed chamber in the middle of the night.
The fallen king held a hand up to his face, where the scar over his left eye had begun to throb again.
The boy was looking at him curiously. “Are you scared of the dark too?”
“No.” He may have answered too quickly then. It wasn’t the dark he was afraid of, merely sleep.
“Not even a tiny little bit?”
“No.”
“But don’t you get scared that something might jump out of the shadows and attack you?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Yan couldn’t stop the malice tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I am the something.”
no subject
Date: 2006-05-06 11:38 am (UTC)I love Yan, he's such a complex bastard, even if he won't talk to us =p
I love those last lines..
no subject
Date: 2006-05-06 11:47 am (UTC)I had to put the last lines in. They've been begging to be ficced for months~~
no subject
Date: 2006-05-06 12:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-06 09:50 pm (UTC)X3