Trandescent Whim, 01 Ungwëliantë !HGOD2YSqqA 2009/04/28 (Tue) 14:37 No. 19282 ▼ File 124095463883.jpg - (116.01KB, 595x840 , 501c9c84a6c8094307cf31daca4e93ab.jpg)
Since /forest/ is quite crowded, we all dislike tight squeezes, and a slot has recently been freed, I'll allow myself to start here.
The story will follow a single character - or a pair of these, depending on how you do at first, through something I would like to describe as... Perhaps a slowly accelerating story of money and love, led in in a calm, possibly a bit mysterious pace.
The places I have taken into consideration are: the aforementioned Forest of Magic, and... mainly it. Other possible landmarks are the Human Village, the Moriya Mountains, maybe a bit of other locations. The main course of action will unfold beneath the trees, though.
Let us begin.
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T Я A N D E S C E И T Ш H I M
***
――In ragged tatters of exhausted nothingness, something disturbs the surface of reality; a single ripple through an endless void, appears, and cracks open the world of stars above.
High, pendulous, navy-blue, radiant with dozens of bright, shining spots spattered over its grim darkness; like little, bright ships upon the depths of the darkest ocean. Tens of eyes, all the same blinking in regular intervals, gathered around a single, larger fleck of light – the ghastly face of Full Moon watching over its unruly children.
And me.
The tree behind lets a humming sigh carry through the space, while I tear myself away from the confinement of the painfully sharp blades of grass. The harsh soil greets my skin with nothing but unhealthy cold and rough gravel. On a hill overlooking the vast expanse of green, illuminated only by the lurid light of stars, wakes up me – in all confusion somewhat relieved male, who promptly looks around unsure of what the place he's woken up might be.
A gust of wind sweeps the air, filling his body with an unpleasant chill.
Why? – you'd ask? It would seem, looking at his mazed self, he's been stripped of all the clothes he may have had. Naked like a newborn child, sitting beneath the steel, dark sky, he ponders the circumstances that may have led to this sort of awakening.
――But there is nothing.
No matter how hard I try to recall, everything is a blur – as though someone had spread a veil of stupefying haze over everything related to myself before dropping me off here - in the middle of nowhere, without a hint or a clue of who I am –and why– I am, in this cold place. Under the watchful stare of the Moon, I scratch my head, trying to recall... What seems not to be there.
The cold wind feels as if it was dashing by only to mock the lack of clothes on me, on the way brushing the vicious blades of grass covering the field, while trees below –and around– dance along, swayed by the nightly breeze. Even though the hour is late, everything seems so clear in the pale light...
"... how scenic."—I mutter.
"Finally!"—comes a response from somewhere near. Startled, I look around, but see no one, and yet the owner of the upbeat female voice resumes, oblivious of my surprise.—"I was beginning to think your transfer might have failed! It has been several hours since I first attempted to contact you."—a bit deadened, but audible, happy voice. It definitely is coming from somewhere near... But from where? Glancing round yields no sights of anything but darkness and sleeping flora. It sounds almost as though it was coming from a poorly manufactured phone or a dictaphone...—"Your WISH has been granted!"—it states joyously.—"The prescribed amount has been withdrawn from your account's balance! Please continue to support us in the future!"
"... what the..."
Only one thing doesn't click. The old-fashioned stem-winder watch to be precise, dangling from my neck on a thin, golden chain. It shimmers weakly in the moonlight, whilst the polished hands mark distinguishable lines on the dial –sometime past two in the night– and the metal of the strap chafes my nape; warm, but unpleasantly harsh on the naked skin. I reach for the irritant, to take it off and maybe take a better look, when...
"Ah, don't!"—the watch protests all of a sudden. My fingers stop in their tracks.—"If you do, I won't be able to run the linguistic services!"
"... linguistic?"
"Precisely!"—it replies.—"As long as I'm in contact with your body, I'll be able to process the sound waves of your voice to fit your conversant's language. It was one of our contract's agreements, was it not?"
For sure, I've never heard that voice before. Not only that; I'm pretty sure I've never owned a talking watch, if mentioning 'knowing for sure' can be done when the one mentioning it can't otherwise recall a thing about himself. The lack of a horrid hangover rules the possibility of being dead drunk the previous night out, but then, why is there this mist of mystery blocking everything I try to remember..."
That thing on my neck is without a doubt a watch. That thing above – the sky. All these things around me – trees, and a whole lot of them. But who is this confused guy sitting naked on top of a hill, talking to a piece of metal like a loony?
"Pardon me,"—I blurt out, glaring at the thing.—"But who are you?"
"I am MARIBEL!"—the watch answers.—"Stancia 7, 'W.I.S.H. & Company', customer service and care. Your host, informer and advisor, as well as personal consultant! Now that I think about it, we hadn't been introduced before the first wish was placed, had we? My sincerest apologies."—I swear I heard the voice bow its head apologetically.—"Please forgive me this terrible omission."
"No offense taken, I guess... And about what you said before..."
"Do not worry."—she –because I'm sure it's a she, if watches can be of different genders– responds reassuringly.—"It lies within our Company's principles not to swindle with our clients' budgets. Your personal data is safe and sound, hidden in our databases, protected from any unauthorized access. The amount of money transferred over from your account perfectly matches the one established beforehand in our contract. If you do not believe, I can supply the exact sum remaining on your balance, followed by the amount your system had stated before the transfer took place. Shall I? If not,"—she quickly adds.—"May I inquire if there are any other wishes you might have?"
The wind blows by once more, sending shivers down my spine. What in the world earned me an awakening in a desolate, chilly night, with only trees to ogle what remains from the manly glory now conquered by the relentless cold? Accursed shrinkage. The aching butt of mine isn't exactly helping either. Cold, cold, dark and cold. No better circumstances to be lost and confounded in, save for maybe waking up in a rowboat in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.
"... heh..."
Why do I even remember what that is, while I'm not able to recall such trivialities as my own identity?
The answer is the awaiting silence of the ticking chunk of brass and serene humming of the environing trees. Naked against the world to see, I can only watch the seconds slowly float by along the edge of darkness. 'W.I.S.H.'? 'Account'? 'Balance'? If only I had a hook to grab...
[ ] "No. I've got a question instead: who on Earth are you?"
[ ] "... please do. Tell me about the money, that is."
[ ] "Wishes? Explain."
[ ] "... why am I naked?"
[ ] "My personal data? I could use a little remainder..."
[ ] "Contract? I don't remember signing anything?"