Post by Saint Judas on Nov 23, 2022 6:33:05 GMT -5
Chapter One,
For as long as Quinnsing could remember, he had not found the one who called to him yet. His memory, he was inclined to believe, was not entirely to be trusted. With clarity he could recall all that he had done while upon this world that had been put together, piece at a time, from the blood and labor of the Gods and Bloblings both. What once had been only a barren expanse of desert and sand had been given it's first signs of life, as blood spilled from Ichor's hands, and from it was given the first vestiges of life. The first few beings, that quickly sprouted simple and functionary organs from which to see and speak, as they explored at first by rolling around aimlessly, sprouting questions and complaints, a cacophony of voices, wondering how, why, and where. And from these confused new life forms, the Goddess Ichor created their first companions, bringing forth her hands to craft the creatures and the plants of the land.
Quinnsing remembered that so clearly, and knew of how the first days, if one could call it such when there was no night to separate the passing of time. But of course, it seemed only logical he could recall those. After all, he was one of the first to roll from her hands, one of the only ones to have been born from Ichor's hands directly, and to have seen the world when it was all but nothing. An idea, unformed yet. Just like the bloblings themselves.
Everyone had a different idea for how they became what they are today, and Blobling remains a blanket term for their species mostly in lack of anything better. After all, the term was coined because of their general amorphous shape and body, but that hardly held true anymore for most of them. Some... some he lost track of a long time ago now. Others though had grown, much like himself. And oh... how much he had changed.
What once was a shapeless shade of grey, notable only for it's bright blue eyes, was now a great beast, halfway between reptilian and mammalian, for what little value those antiquated terms that floated through his memory means. A scaled under-belly in a rich tinge of royal purple contrasted the grey fur that covered more of his body, save where those two feathered wings rose from his back, layered with inner wings of white that faded to blue and outer wings that went from a stark grey swirled at the top with black to black to white, except where his primaries became a brilliant blue at their outermost tips, and his tail crested into a plume of white soft feathers. A long muzzle and a black mask of fur marked his face now, with a wet black nose and a forked pink tongue that poked between his teeth. Long white whiskers and a beard marked his muzzle and his brows, where brilliant blue eye sat still, now slitted at the pupil and vibrant with streaks of silver rimming their iris, a marking along his cheek and drawing a line down from his crested mane pained blue as well.
Tufted ears marked with metal rings and cuffs of silver and earrings of white feathers, sleek black antlers that curved together with wrappings and cuffs to where they held an orb in the space between their branches, the gems that crested his forehead and cheeks where fur tufted out white again, along the joints of his legs where they streaked to black paws and silvery claws, marked again by tufts at the 'elbow' joints. The gem at his throat, where brilliant white wings wrapped around his throat, and the ones along his tail, breaking up his crest before becoming a plume, the fading of his tail from grey to black where it was furred... even a sash of brilliant blue with black loops and a scarf of matching color with stars speckling it's length... so much had changed.
Quinnsing Ta'Hala was no longer a blobling by any definition. Unrecognizable really in fact, from what he used to be, keeping only the same grey tone in his fur and blue in his eyes. A word lingered on the tip of his tongue that would have put a name to his new shape, but it escaped him, as many things seemed to. That was the trouble with it... he remembered everything from whence he opened his eyes first to now, when he stirred from the cave he had taken residence in, scales rasping over the stone of the floor as his tail uncurled around him, his body long and serpentine, yet clearly no mere reptile. He could even recall many of those who had begun their first days with him, when the land was barren sand and naught else. Some... some had, much like himself, spread their wings and taken shape, dreaming, remembering, or perhaps creating what they were meant to be. Others simply faded into obscurity.
No... what made Quinnsing so sure his memory couldn't be relied on was the hazy thoughts of something else. Something before he had been born. "They" had been born. Words came to his mind to describe things he had never yet seen, with a sense of familiarity and certainty that bore confidence without question or hesitation. Yet by all rights, how can one remember something they have never seen? This sense of Deja Vu persisted though, spreading further then that. It was dreams that coiled around him as he slept, recollections of a life before this one. Of a library spread before him, scrolls heaped like treasure and meticulously sorted. Of great spiraled forts and creatures in shiny metal armor. Of war. Of death. Of love. So many many things... in fact, he was inclined to believe it was more then just one life he was recalling, although he could not put a claw to it to say for certainty.
Perhaps that was why, originally, like many of those who have been gifted with life upon this new world, he had originally looked to those who had named themselves Gods to search for an answer to his questions and hazy recollections. For whom should explain it best but the ones who bled him onto the lands, or the ones who followed her, seeking to lay claim and govern the world to their own goals and aims. Creatures beyond even the wildest dreams of prowess and knowledge, a wealth of skills and information at their tongue, and the powers to create something from which there was once nothing.
Yet still... Quinnsing could not find an answer to satisfy him.
Quinnsing remembered that so clearly, and knew of how the first days, if one could call it such when there was no night to separate the passing of time. But of course, it seemed only logical he could recall those. After all, he was one of the first to roll from her hands, one of the only ones to have been born from Ichor's hands directly, and to have seen the world when it was all but nothing. An idea, unformed yet. Just like the bloblings themselves.
Everyone had a different idea for how they became what they are today, and Blobling remains a blanket term for their species mostly in lack of anything better. After all, the term was coined because of their general amorphous shape and body, but that hardly held true anymore for most of them. Some... some he lost track of a long time ago now. Others though had grown, much like himself. And oh... how much he had changed.
What once was a shapeless shade of grey, notable only for it's bright blue eyes, was now a great beast, halfway between reptilian and mammalian, for what little value those antiquated terms that floated through his memory means. A scaled under-belly in a rich tinge of royal purple contrasted the grey fur that covered more of his body, save where those two feathered wings rose from his back, layered with inner wings of white that faded to blue and outer wings that went from a stark grey swirled at the top with black to black to white, except where his primaries became a brilliant blue at their outermost tips, and his tail crested into a plume of white soft feathers. A long muzzle and a black mask of fur marked his face now, with a wet black nose and a forked pink tongue that poked between his teeth. Long white whiskers and a beard marked his muzzle and his brows, where brilliant blue eye sat still, now slitted at the pupil and vibrant with streaks of silver rimming their iris, a marking along his cheek and drawing a line down from his crested mane pained blue as well.
Tufted ears marked with metal rings and cuffs of silver and earrings of white feathers, sleek black antlers that curved together with wrappings and cuffs to where they held an orb in the space between their branches, the gems that crested his forehead and cheeks where fur tufted out white again, along the joints of his legs where they streaked to black paws and silvery claws, marked again by tufts at the 'elbow' joints. The gem at his throat, where brilliant white wings wrapped around his throat, and the ones along his tail, breaking up his crest before becoming a plume, the fading of his tail from grey to black where it was furred... even a sash of brilliant blue with black loops and a scarf of matching color with stars speckling it's length... so much had changed.
Quinnsing Ta'Hala was no longer a blobling by any definition. Unrecognizable really in fact, from what he used to be, keeping only the same grey tone in his fur and blue in his eyes. A word lingered on the tip of his tongue that would have put a name to his new shape, but it escaped him, as many things seemed to. That was the trouble with it... he remembered everything from whence he opened his eyes first to now, when he stirred from the cave he had taken residence in, scales rasping over the stone of the floor as his tail uncurled around him, his body long and serpentine, yet clearly no mere reptile. He could even recall many of those who had begun their first days with him, when the land was barren sand and naught else. Some... some had, much like himself, spread their wings and taken shape, dreaming, remembering, or perhaps creating what they were meant to be. Others simply faded into obscurity.
No... what made Quinnsing so sure his memory couldn't be relied on was the hazy thoughts of something else. Something before he had been born. "They" had been born. Words came to his mind to describe things he had never yet seen, with a sense of familiarity and certainty that bore confidence without question or hesitation. Yet by all rights, how can one remember something they have never seen? This sense of Deja Vu persisted though, spreading further then that. It was dreams that coiled around him as he slept, recollections of a life before this one. Of a library spread before him, scrolls heaped like treasure and meticulously sorted. Of great spiraled forts and creatures in shiny metal armor. Of war. Of death. Of love. So many many things... in fact, he was inclined to believe it was more then just one life he was recalling, although he could not put a claw to it to say for certainty.
Perhaps that was why, originally, like many of those who have been gifted with life upon this new world, he had originally looked to those who had named themselves Gods to search for an answer to his questions and hazy recollections. For whom should explain it best but the ones who bled him onto the lands, or the ones who followed her, seeking to lay claim and govern the world to their own goals and aims. Creatures beyond even the wildest dreams of prowess and knowledge, a wealth of skills and information at their tongue, and the powers to create something from which there was once nothing.
Yet still... Quinnsing could not find an answer to satisfy him.
Quinnsing Ta'Hala
1,113 Words
TWriMo Prompt #11 & #12