Falling Stones

24 9 1

by Willow-Heart

by Willow-Heart

Since I think I've lead you all long enough- enjoy this scrapped prologue and a few paragraphs from the new one!

(OLD)

Steam hissed as it swirled from intricate machinery. Cogs turned in almost every direction, giving off the gentle tick-tick-tick of an analog clock. Through the swaying of pulleys and the rest of the noise, rushed footsteps scurried down a corridor. It opened out into a wide sloping canyon lined with creaking wooden platforms and neighborhoods carved from stone and clay.
More footsteps chased after them, all pausing when they reached the end. One of them climbed down onto the wooden platforming, scanning for the target. At the end of the canyon where it dipped into a flat plain and stretched into deep forest, more figures emerged faintly, waiting for them patiently. One of them was tall and scrawny, watching them move in.
"What was their engraving?" One snarled. Another grumbled, pulling out a bundle of scrolls, accidentally dropping one off the cliffside.
"Do you have to carry those everywhere?" A brown and freckled-white one taunted them with a chuckle.
"You know Woodmouse would be upset if we messed it up, Snowshoe." They retorted, finally putting away all the scrolls and handing them one.
They opened it up to reveal a beautifully inked flower, tall like a lavender with hundreds of blooms, and some scribbled notes underneath. "Sword lilies. They should have the dweller at hand."
As if it was agreed upon instantly, the rest of them began to spew onto the wooden platforms and scatter like rats among them. The figures at the end of the canyon stood still, waiting as the first few made their way to the end, tumbling down like a jumping waterfall.
When they got closer, the tall scrawny beast didn't seem as scrawny as it had before. It was lithe with bony wings covered in feathers, reminding them of what they were here to do.
Shackles were wound around the front legs and bounded its wings, holding it down. A sarcastic-sounding growl rumbled from the beast's throat. "Erom fo uoy? Nehw lliw eht erutrot dne?"
The creature holding its shackles tugged them back. "Save your fire, dweller." They sneered. The dweller rolled its eyes, but it seemed to go unnoticed by the approaching figures.
"So that's our weapon?" Snowshoe asked. When the others didn't respond, Snowshoe sighed and continued. "We are false birds of paradise."
With that phrase, they eased and spoke up. "Everything is in place on our end. Have you fueled the core?"
"The core's running. Though we didn't fuel it for long." Someone behind Snowshoe pushed in front, answering the question. Snowshoe began to speak, but they continued. "We have little time if we want to burn this place to the ground."
"Then we act fast. Bring the dweller into the canyon and set them loose already." Snowshoe nagged.
With a tug on the chains, the dweller strut forward. "Let's hope that you truly are the last source of wonders in our world." One muttered.
The dweller seemed mostly uninterested when the chain was dropped- until something sparkly caught its eye. Something with an iridescent glow shone at the top of the mountain, and with a clink of its claws the dweller was airborne. Its grand wings stretched many lengths of its body, shedding feathers.
The rest of them ran into the woods, not daring to see what would happen next. The dweller reached with outstretched talons for the object, and then froze. It seemed betrayed by its eyes, and turned around. "Enif. Fi uoy tnaw yrekcirt, ti si yrekcirt uoy lliw eviecer."
Smoke began to bellow from the dweller's throat as it coughed up ash. Moments later, a golden plume of whimsical fire stretched beyond the canyon. Everything in its path was awoken to a sparkling heat which reeked of cinder.

Notes: I really didn't like where I was going with this one (ABOVE). It just didn't feel right, writing from a third person perspective as if you knew nobody and got to know nobody. I introduced several characters too soon, and didn't build up what this scene NEEDED.

(NEW)

Steam hissed as it swirled from intricate machinery. Cogwheels turned in almost every direction, giving off the gentle tick-tick-tick of an analog clock. Through the swaying of pulleys and the rest of the noise, rushed footsteps scurried down a corridor.
Talons clinked against stone, pausing to push open a heavy door. Behind the door, the chamber echoed with white noise. Machines filled the room, spanning from cannons, ships, and even failed flying machines.
In the center of the chamber, above a pool of liquid glass, was a delicate sphere of brass suspended by several thin chains. And inside the brass, it glowed with the warmth of slow, churning gears. Tick. Tick. Tick.
The figure closed the door slowly, easing its attention-grabbing creak. They pulled out a loose bag, stumbling forward towards the sphere, eyes wide in awe.
"That way!" A muffled voice boomed far beyond the door, around the corridor. They froze, waiting for the shuffle of footsteps. The figure's ear twitched, lifting her tail as they started forward again.
Tick. Tick. Tick. The brass beckoned them forward, its glow whimpering. She lifted the bag and loosened a knot. Silt began to pour from it impatiently, down into the bubbling molten glass.
Heat rose towards the sphere, boiling water which hid inside its detailed form. The cogs began to speed up. Tick, tick, tick. It sounded thankful, as though it were alive.

NOTES: Though I love the feel of this one, It may not be the final draft. I tend to be really unmotivated when I reveal the surprise too early, which is why this is only seven paragraphs of the probably 30 or so I wrote.

ADDITIONAL SPOILER: The main character may change based on the characters in the prologue alone because I love them too much for them to not be the focus of this one, if not turning them into a short story or different one altogether. We will see how it goes!