the book that ate our lives

The Book

more snippety babble
Tuesday, October 12, 2004
11:17 p.m.

she is the dreamer of the world what are you Eran?

---

After a while, they stopped looking up. It was strange for dragons. Eran's neck grew stiff from only looking straight ahead.

---

They were from another time and place. They were not afraid to look at the dark, empty sky.

---

The following conversation has three people. I think.

"Ah. So the Sleepers have woken."
"The world ended, my Lord. It was time."
"But the world hasn't ended. It's still here."
"Something that ends is not necessarily over."

---

"I want to speak to whoever's in charge," she said tightly.

"Let her," Eran said, stepping forward.

Alexandra looked at him dubiously. "You're the Teller they speak so highly of? The one they call the Dreamer? You're young."

"I am," Eran said ruefully. "Too young."

"Well, that's no matter. I bring. . . news. From my people."

"Your--" Eran took in the deep red hair, the ruby-colored eyes, the thick air of power and magic about her. He said, "Oh."

"Yes. They say they're coming. They say they'll be waiting for you at the gates of dawn."

snippets
Tuesday, October 5, 2004
11:05 p.m.

"Father," she sobbed. "Wake up, Father. They need us now."

"Aaaahh?" The sound was like boulders grinding together, like mountains uprooting themselves. An eye opened in the darkness, pale and gleaming. "Is it time?"

Alexandra leaned against something warm in the darkness. It breathed. "Yes," she murmured. "The world has ended. It's time to go home now."

"Ahhhh," came the long, hot sigh. "At lasssst."

---

"Where am I?"

"In my home, in a bed. Found you, I did, out in the fields, naked as a newborn. You didn't have anything to do with that uproar, did you? You don't look like a dragon."

"Uproar? Dragons?"

"Don't tell me you don't know! Big hoo-ha over in the east. Dragon war. There's a big to-do, bright flash of light, and next thing you know, all the dragons are dead and the sky's blacker than a well at midnight."

"Dead?" He found that this idea upset him. He couldn't imagine why.

---

"Follow the ghosts," she said in a low voice.

"What?"

"Follow the ghosts!" she said, louder, voice wretched. "They'll be drawn to him, even if they don't know why. They're a part of him. Follow them."

"Alexandra. . ."

"Don't. Please don't."

---

They were far and wide at all times, blue spectres hovering just below the horizon. They did not eat or sleep; it was difficult to follow them at times. Often someone had to fly ahead and report back which direction they were going.

Day by day, there were more of them, all heading in the same direction. Reports from the scouts showed that occasionally, others could be spotted, coming from another direction. It was clear that they were converging on one place.

---

What's left of a dragon when you take away its scales, its wings, its teeth and claws? What's left of a god when you take away his godhood?

the brothers
Tuesday, September 7, 2004
05:09 p.m.

So I did some brainstorming on the cryptic and mysterious "brothers" via the usual method: pulling things out of my ass and writing down whatever felt right.

The first thing that came to my mind, for some reason, was the line "like trees in November." In case you don't remember, that's how Pipkin describes Cowslip's warren in Watership Down. They're all so big and healthy, but there's some sort of strange sadness about them. The next line that came to my mind, then, was "a race of sad and lonely giants." There's something melancholy about these people.

I had the idea that they are temporary. Or rather, that they're dying out for some mysterious reason, and they know their time is short. But despite this, they refuse help for themselves and persist in helping Eran and his people restore Gyrnath. Why? Because brothers help one another ("If brothers help one another," Eran says, "then let us help you.")? Because they can't lie in peace unless Gyrnath is restored?

Furthermore, why are they dying out? It could be any number of things. Some sort of environmental change, such as climate. It could be disease. Maybe it's some sort of dietary restriction (like, say, pandas). I had the idea that, similar to the demons, they "eat" magic, and maybe something has happened to the magic in that area. But then why don't they just move? Are they that determined to cling to their land? If that is the case, then why let Eran and his followers move in and take it over?

On to more mundane matters. The "brothers," I am fairly certain, do not shapeshift. How, then, are they relatives to the demons/dragons? Well, like both races, they're powerful magicians. The more tattoos a person has, the more spells they know. In fact, you might say the tattoo is part of the spell itself; for instance, the spell for flight would be marked on the back of the shoulders, the spell for speed would be marked on the ankles or feet, etc. The very, very powerful among them might know a spell for shapeshifting. I suspect they also have the ability to transform other things, such as inanimate objects. Neither the demons or the dragons know how to do this. They are also very powerful healers, on the same level as the Pearl dragons.

That's all I have for now. Any thoughts?

something i found in my notebook
Sunday, June 13, 2004
11:39 p.m.

"I was there," he said, and Eran did not like the way the stranger's eyes glinted dangerously from behind the curtain of his wild, summer-grass hair. "There was no miracle. No warriors," he sneered, "fallen from the sky."

Eran said nothing.

"Here. This is what fell from the sky." He unearthed a small rock from one of his pockets and tossed it to Eran, who caught it reflexively. It fit snugly in the palm of his hand and glittered strangely up at him. "This one cracked the head of a soldier next to me. Killed him on the spot. A meteor shower, that's all it was."

"And it never occurred to you," Eran said blankly, "that that was a miracle?"

you'll be my savior and i'll be your downfall
Sunday, May 30, 2004
01:07 a.m.

"She wants blood," the voice whispered, insidious and slithering like a snake.

"I know," Eruin murmured, eyes closed.

"She wants the blood of an urigul[1]," it hissed, wet and bubbling. "She wants your blood."

"I know," Eruin sighed, stretching. "Just--just give me a minute."

[1] Wrongdoer, traitor, taboo-breaker
---

Alexandra opened the door one day to find a ghost on her doorstep. He was, without doubt, a ghost. She could see the grass and the trees and the setting-sun-sky through his blue-fire body, and he emitted a faint glow. Her jaw fell open a little--she probably looked very silly--and she reached out one slightly-tremblig hand.

"Good evening," Stanos said sadly. "I came for dinner."

---

"No, it's okay. I'm dying."

---

(For some people, the way they live is how they remember. Their memories are embedded in their bodies, their motions, their daily rituals.)

"What's that?" she asked suspiciously.

"It's a symbol of Our God, Gyrnath," he said proudly, displaying it for closer inspection.

It was a symbol of a radiant sun, with one edge of it a crescent moon and a single star in the middle. A fitting symbol for Gyrnath, she supposed. But it made her feel deeply suspicious, for some reason. "I see," she said at last. "I don't think Gyrnath's really into jewelry, though."

He laughed. "It's not like that, silly. But when I wear it, I can feel close to Gyrnath. It's like Gyrnath is here, close to my skin." He tucked the pendant back into his shirt and patted it. "But he's not really the sun, you know. That's all been explained scientifically."

She thought the best word to describe her feelings was "mortified."

the book soundtracks
Wednesday, May 12, 2004
12:59 a.m.

The Prequel:

"Ave Maria" - Sinead O'Connor
"Dies Irae" - Mozart's Requiem
"Whatever I Fear" - Toad the Wet Sprocket
"Requiem Overture" - Clint Mansell

The Book:

stuff from the first CD
"Long-Haired Country Boy" - Charlie Daniels Band

The Sequel:

"Ave Maria" - Sinead O'Connor
"River of Dreams" - Billy Joel
"Pray Your Gods" - Toad the Wet Sprocket
"Strange Waters" - Bruce Cockburn
"When I Fall" - Cirque du Soleil
"Brother" - Toad the Wet Sprocket
"Jonas and Ezekiel" - Indigo Girls
"Stories I Tell" - Toad the Wet Sprocket
"Haunted" - Poe
"Gates of Dawn" - Secret Garden

I cannot sleep, therefore I write
Sunday, May 2, 2004
05:50 a.m.

The children were demanding stories of Eran again. Nobody begrudged him the task, and the Teller of the clan smiled upon it, shooing those in her care over to his side and standing at a quiet distance to listen.

Yevra wandered in this day, just as the young ones were seating and gathering themselves, hanging at the edge of the group like some disinterested chaperone. She did not look to the Dreamer, but instead watched the horizon, as if waiting for something. She did not seem to listen as Eran leaned back, and asked first rather than told this time, in his usual calm voice questioning what they would hear. "Gurumi!" one child shouted. The others agreed quickly, but soon fell into squabbling as to which Guardian would be told of.

"Eran." They silenced almost immediately as Yevra barked, and looked warily at her, though she did not look back. Her eye was still cast away, fixed far in the distance. "Tell them about Gregol," she said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

~*~*~*~

Zosimus worried about Alexandra sometimes, anymore. Perhaps it was that he saw the world through eyes that did not trust so automatically, but something that he had never quite been able to place about her had finally fallen into sharp contrast now.

He did not even try to lie. He had been a fugitive for a long time, and in many ways still was, so accustomed to running he barely realized when he started again. He knew what he had been, and he knew that it was behind him.

But he never went so far as to think that he'd escaped it.

demon info
Sunday, April 11, 2004
07:44 p.m.

The demons are not actually demons. They're called that, but the demons think of themselves as people. They have no name for themselves other than that, and they don't care what they're called.

There are several kinds of creature that live in the demon country, and not all of them are accurately of what we will call the "demon" race. Some of them live in the dark caves of the mountains, and some of them live in the dangerous waters of the marsh. The "true" demons, though, are made of magic or some similar stuff. They can shapeshift to nearly any form they please, depending on how powerful they are, and have a tendency to be very vain. However, the one thing they can never hide are their eyes, which are slit-pupilled like a cat's, and often glow in the dark.

Demons do not live in cities or towns as humans or dragons do; they live in tribes and clans, each with its own territory, and often attack each other for more land. Demons do not feed on negative emotions, as the dragons and humans say they do. They feed on magic, and when they can't get magic, they want life energy, and when they can't get even that, then they'll eat actual provisions. Demons are made of magic, and to replenish themselves they suck it from the earth and other living beings. They've been known to devour each other before, and often the most powerful demons are the ones who have eaten and absorbed others, thereby gaining their magic and power. A powerful demon, if he or she or it sees fit, may "spawn" children, taking a piece of himself and fashioning it into a demon of his own making.

Magic is a naturally-occurring thing in the earth, but like anything else it must be conserved. Demons don't understand this, or if they do, they don't care, and when the demon population grows too great, the magic in the earth runs out and they must turn to the other thing that will feed them: the life force that is present in all living things. They eat each other, and hunt small animals, and leave their territory to attack humans and dragons. Dragons in particular are valuable, because they have a great deal of innate magic. The demons may not necessarily kill a dragon on sight if they are hungry, because a dead dragon possesses only a certain amount of magic and no more. Instead, they will keep the dragon alive, feeding off its magic and life, and the dragon usually dies of illness, thirst, or bleeding, if it was injured in a fight. Because demons don't eat, drink, or bleed as dragons do, they often don't comprehend what is necessary for a dragon--or human--to stay alive.

Whether or not demons are immortal is difficult to say. Certainly they don't age as humans or dragons do, simply because they're not made of the same stuff they are. Their lifestyle, however, makes for short, violent lives. Demons die from starvation, in territorial conflicts, or are devoured by one another. Perhaps if a demon were removed from his people entirely, he might very well live forever. . .

there is no country by god exempted
Saturday, April 10, 2004
11:27 p.m.

It might have started with something small.

In fact, it probably began with something small.

It might have begun with, say, a border patrol. Because the dragons diligently patrolled their borders back then, because you never knew what might happen. Bandits might attack, demons might attack, your trade routes might get fouled up--anything, really. It gave young dragons some good discipline and a military background that might come in handy someday.

And then, let's say there was a small bandit gang of demons, young demons maybe, just out looking for trouble. And maybe they somehow cross the path of a border patrol, and nobody knows who started it but people from both sides died. And there was anger, because those dragons (or demons) were your countrymen, and maybe for some of you they were sons or brothers or cousins, and now they're dead and you want payback for that. It doesn't matter why or how they died, it shouldn't have happened. Nobody ever said these things were rational.

So this is what might be termed an Incident. And maybe one side--or more than one side--gets pissed enough to send in a troop to exact some revenge and maybe scare the other side enough into being good and subservient. Or maybe someone goes in unofficially and does some damage, determined to exact revenge for a sister or a grandson. And then things go back and forth, because blood calls for blood, and they never got along in the first place, did they? And nobody really knows why, it's just that they're too different. They were never able to trust each other, because after all demons (dragons) can't be trusted. . . .

the book: reloaded
Saturday, April 10, 2004
10:34 p.m.

"Ave Maria" - Sinead O'Connor (you know damn well)
"Long-Haired Country Boy" - Charlie Daniel Band (Gregol)
"Pray Your Gods" - Toad the Wet Sprocket (Eran: his burden and his dreams)
"Jonas and Ezekiel" - Indigo Girls (the exodus)
"Gates of Dawn" - Secret Garden (this should be the last song on the CD)

Any suggestions?

questions and answers
Thursday, March 25, 2004
05:45 p.m.

So in an attempt to figure out the politics of The Book (and perhaps The Prequel), I asked myself a lot of questions and wrote down their answers (if there were any). This is what I came up with:

draconian culture:
- agrarian?
- self-sufficient subsistence/market economy?
- strong presence of magic
- probably very ethnocentric; long-lived, flying (for the most part) magical creatures with a great deal of physical strength and stamina

What was the occupation of the gold dragons? Were they subsistence farmers like the green? That doesn't seem quite right--but if they were, then after the changeover, the food-producing responsibilities would have belonged solely to the green dragons, who now have to produce for themselves, the blacks, and the golds, which might have interesting consequences.

demonic culture:
- tribal/clan system?
- warlordism: demons oppressing other demons
- v. magic-based
- hunter/gatherers? or?
- short-lived? seems like it

human culture:
- very similar to colonial America
- wizards? not very magic-based, probably
- creative minds; invention and technology
- regard dragons w/ awe and respect--until wars? then disdain/contempt for the mighty that have fallen?

issues that need to be addressed in the prequel:
- an event in which the weakness of the dragons is revealed
- humans that are technologically superior to dragons
- what is the demonic strength? besides magic?
- a reason for all three races to want to work together--how can they benefit from each other?
- origins of the Council

the new order/progressive age:
- emphasis on education (indoctrinating the youth)
- emphasis on technology, development of
- de-emphasis of religion (magic?)
- eventually, something must happen to make the dragons (or the entire Council) think that keeping old traditions alive is impractical/infeasible/stupid. how do the old traditions clash or present an obstacle to progress? examples?

dissenters (probably mainly older generation, since the young ones are being indoctrinated)
- religious fanatics/conservatives
- traditionalists
- purists/ethnocentrists/xenophobes

some questions
Wednesday, March 24, 2004
03:34 p.m.

So in my East Asia since 1700 class, we're studying the things that lead up to the Intellectual/Cultural Revolution in China. Since we've already noticed that The Book had some, uh, Cultural Revolutionist tendencies, I decided to try and apply some of this knowledge.

That is to say, what was draconian culture like before? We haven't really fleshed out what this New Order is all about, really, other than that it seems to consist of dragons, demons, and humans living together and working together in ways heretofore unthought of, and apparently some accelerated technological change. Who's bringing in this new technology? Humans? Demons? Or is it simply that there's now more of an emphasis on science instead of magic/alchemy/what have you?

As always when there's rapid change, there are dissenters. So who're the protestors out there? What are they protesting against? This means that we'll probably have to flesh out some cities other than Council City, and see just who lives in those cities. It'd be cool if we could use Stanos's travels and Gregol's travels to offer contrasting viewpoints on the protestors/dissenters/whatever to fill in all those blank gaps we have in the timeline (which probably needs to be rewritten again, argh).

Speaking of Gregol, this offers a viable way for him to get killed. So, let's say that Gregol's wandering around and gets mixed up in a protest/rebellion of some sort. Obviously, the rebellion is quite efficiently and ruthlessly put down. Gregol escapes (probably not entirely of his own will; it's likely that someone "helped" him escape), and Stanos is ordered to seek out and kill this dangerous "rebel leader." Does that sound workable? Gregol's death might or might make him into a martyr of some sort, but we can deal with that over AIM.

The interesting thing about revolutions like this is that they're generally incited by young people. The Councillors, in our heads, seem to be relatively old fogies--but old fogies are generally more conservative and therefore against change. How should we address this?

the book: reloaded
Sunday, February 29, 2004
11:42 p.m.

"Ave Maria" - Sinead O'Connor (you know damn well)
"Long-Haired Country Boy" - Charlie Daniel Band (Gregol)
"Pray Your Gods" - Toad the Wet Sprocket (Eran: his burden and his dreams)
"Jonas and Ezekiel" - Indigo Girls (the exodus)

a dream
Thursday, February 26, 2004
01:18 p.m.

Last night I had a dream that I was in the caverns of the Named. It was dark and cool and the torchlights flickered and threw shadows against the wall, and I laid my hand against the wall and all around me the stone was smoothed from centuries of people living working fighting breathing dreaming there. I heard the sounds of a forge in the distance and I walked towards it, and then I heard the sound of footsteps coming toward me. I held my breath and flattened myself against the wall and they swept past me like wild horses, manes and tails foaming and streaming behind them. There were both men and women, and every one of them was armed, with sword or bow or spear, and some of them had shields. They had armor of leather, and boots with knives in them, and braces round their forearms. I waited until they were gone, and then I went on.

Eventually I came to a fork in the path, and I listened, and the sounds of the forge seemed to be getting stronger. I chose the left fork and continued down that tunnel, and suddenly a man barred my way. He was a huge man, with huge arms and a broad chest and belly, with a tangled beard and long, thicket-like hair, and a rough face. He was no one I'd ever seen before, although he reminded me of the pagan gods from the times before Christ, as if he ought to have antlers brushing against the ceiling.

I think he said something to me, but I don't remember what because then the fscking alarm clock went off and I woke up.

by Hsun Tzu: a discussion of ritual
Monday, February 16, 2004
01:53 a.m.

Where does ritual come from? I say, people have desires from the time they are born. When they want something they do not get, they inevitably try to get it. When there are no limits imposed on how they can try to get it, they inevitably struggle for it. Struggles lead to disorder, disorder to exhaustion. The ancient kings detested disorder and so instituted ritual and moral principles to set shares, thus satisfying people's desires and supplying their wants. They saw to it that desires and the supply of goods were kept in balance. This is how ritual began. . .

Sacrifices are concerned with the feelings of devotion and longing. Feelings of depression and melancholy cannot be prevented from occasionally arising. Thus, even when enjoying himself in pleasant company, a loyal official or a filial son will occasionally be overcrome by grief. If he is greatly moved by his feelings, but he restrains himself and does not express them, he will be incomplete in ritual. Therefore the ancient kings established ways to fulfill the principle of honoring those deserving honor and expressing closeness to relatives. Hence, sacrifices are concerned with the feelings of devotion and longing. They fulfill loyalty, faith, love, and respect. Ritual conduct is the perfection of decorum. Only sages can fully understand this. Sages comprehend it, gentlemen comfortably carry them out, officials preserve them, and the common people consider them the custom. Gentlemen consider them to be part of the way of man; common people think they have something to do with ghosts. . .

snippets and visions
Monday, January 5, 2004
12:13 a.m.

Before bed, a few things I've scribbled in my notebook.

---

"Idiot," she said.
He grinned. "Yes, but I'm your idiot."
She turned away and crossed her arms, face hidden in her thorn-thicket hair. "Don't be stupid," she said in a low voice. "You don't belong to anyone, least of all me."

---

"We've fallen out of touch with the world."
"But," he said helplessly, "this is the way we've always lived. This is the way things have always been."
"It's a new age now," was the grim reply. "We're relics of a past that didn't work for them."

---

Eruin lay on his back, sleeves flung out from his sides like ragged wings. He stared up at the ruined sky through a curtain of blood and laughed hysterically, bloody spume trickling from his lips. If he couldn't have the sky, then no one could.

what i do in logic class
Thursday, October 23, 2003
02:36 p.m.

"You're not really going, are you?" Eran demanded.

"Everyone's goin', Eran," Dagan replied, unruffled, as he checked his things one by one. Leather armor, spear, light shield (which Eran hadn't even known he had), wristguards--and of course, his heavy broadsword, Sigane. "Terin's going, an' he's older 'n me by far."

"Yes, but. . ." Eran found he had nothing to say, really.

Dagan leveled his sword at Eran, grinning. "I can still swing a sword, boy. That's good enough."

But Eran could see the line of tension in Dagan's back and shoulders that hadn't been there some years ago, and the way his arm quivered slightly with the weight of the sword. Tears suddenly had him by the throat, hot and choking. "Oh, father. . ."

Dagan's expression softened. "I think that's the first time you ever called me that."

randomosity
Tuesday, October 21, 2003
10:32 p.m.

"Who are you?"

". . . my name is Eran."

"They call you Teller, I've heard. They call you Dreamer."

"They do."

"Are you?"

"If they call me such."

"That is good."

"Who are you?"

"Ah. Merely one of the Dreamed."

(i'm deathly afraid the other voice might be Enin.)

fall on me
Tuesday, October 21, 2003
06:13 p.m.

Eran jerked his head up dizzily, the firelight leaping in his vision. "Gregol," he whispered.

"Yeah." He looked naked without his sword. Instead he bore a staff, ghostly and shimmering, as if it were made of moonlight; he carried it as easily as he had carried Vienna, now by Eran's side. She seemed to hum at his presence.

"What are you doing here?" Eran realized he was shaking. He felt sick to his stomach. "You--you're--"

"Dead, I know." Gregol leaned on his staff and looked up where the sky used to be. "I've got nowhere to go right now. So I'm just waiting." He turned his gaze back to Eran. His eyes were bright like stars and painful to look at. "Are you working hard, Eran?"

Eran swallowed his a dry click of his throat. "Yeah. I'm trying."

---

"Don't go. We need you. Please don't go."
"I have to go. I don't belong here."

---

He was physical enough; solid, very well made of real flesh and real bone. But he was too hot to touch; he burned like a star.

random musings
Tuesday, October 21, 2003
01:41 p.m.

behold, this dreamer cometh

---

do you remember the sun?
yes, I remember the sun
do you remember the moon?
yes, I remember the moon
do you remember Gyrnath?
yes, I remember Gyrnath
will you dream him alive? will you dream of the sky?
yes, I will. I do.

---

- you remembered your god--can you remember ours?
- can you dream him alive again?
- remember the sky for us

---

(and for some reason, I get mental images of Eran keeping vigil by a bonfire and staring up at a sky that isn't there.)

(what does it look like, when there's no sky?)

. . . gah.
Monday, August 11, 2003
02:25 p.m.

Well, you asked if Yevra survives, and I puzzled over it. And this morning, my mind answered me.

(The old trader had barely recognized her at first, hiking along the path with a limp, the right sleeve of her shirt knotted and empty. She was one of the few Named who had made an impression on him in his rounds to the mountains, but even then it was a wonder he recognized her as different as she seemed. Even the look in her eye was changed, its baleful fire buried in something infinitely deeper.

"I never imagined that you would be one to survive. To hear how you fought for the Old Ways even in time of peace . . . I would've thought you'd throw yourself upon the enemy's weapons first."

". . . the Way must survive, at any cost. To dash myself to death on the rocks of the new order would have been easier." She almost looked pained, then shook her head, and once again stared deeply into the darkness beyond the fire. Her right eye almost seemed to stare deeper, pale and dead as it was. "I gave my [honor]1, for the Way."

1. hrineth)

. . . other ideas are already forming, and they hurt my soul. I can't begin to imagine what would happen if/when she met Eran again.

not really book-related
Saturday, August 9, 2003
09:04 a.m.

I was never really satisfied with how Kaligo and Arroyo parted ways. It seemed so. . . contrived. And then, yesterday, it came to me.

("Go away," Arroyo snarled. "You're useless.

He didn't mean it. After all, Kaligo was the only thing he had left in the world. But he was angry, he was bitter, and he was hurt, sitting on a frozen plateau in the middle of nowhere with nothing but animals for company. There was no sign of whether or not anyone was coming for him--or indeed, whether those who came would be friendly. Kaligo was the nearest available thing to take out his frustration on.

"But, master--"

"Shut up," Arroyo snapped. "I thought I told you to go away."

He stared sullenly into the distance, purposely ignoring Kaligo. When he looked back, his servant was gone. He waited, but Kaligo never came back.)

Oh Arroyo, you should know that Kaligo takes everything seriously.

And also, it is daylight and I am still halfway tempted to have Stanos and Eruin sleep together. It doesn't help that I am somehow convinced that Eruin is as gay as Aziraphale. Or, at least, as gay as a treeful of monkeys on nitrous oxide.

amusing gregol song call
Friday, August 8, 2003
03:21 p.m.

This song is so Gregol.

people say i'm no good and crazy as a loon
'cause i get stoned in the morning
and drunk in the afternoon
kinda like my old blue tick hound
i like to lie around in the shade
and i ain't got no money
but i damn sure got it made

'cause i ain't asking nobody for nothin'
if i can't get it on my own
if you don't like the way i'm livin'
you just leave this long-haired country boy alone

--Charlie Daniels Band, "Long Haired Country Boy"

some strange dialogue
Friday, August 8, 2003
12:00 p.m.

where are you going?
-somewhere. nowhere.
what are you looking for?
-a place we can call home. a place where we can be free. somewhere dragons can live as dragons and not as anything else.
you are looking for the sky?
-yes. we are looking for the sky.

a phrase or two
Tuesday, August 5, 2003
02:06 p.m.

"I--I came to learn the Old Ways."

". . . here we do not call them that. They are only the Way."

the guardians
Sunday, August 3, 2003
07:08 p.m.

Lady Kano, patron of the forge
Lord Evran, patron of the hunt
Lord Deil/Lady Eru, patrons of love
Lady Finu, patron of the hearth
Lord Sriiru, patron of the flight/the sky(?)
Lord Faiya, patron of war
Lady Nava, patron of the harvest
Lady Srani, patron of the day
Lord Rakru, patron of the night
Lord Hitu, patron of the rains (a general weather god)
Lady Iruvo, patron of birth/life

They're collectively called gurumi, which can be loosely translated to mean "Guardians." Some of the names are also taken to be the thing itself; for instance, "srani" literally means "day," (as in the time that is not night; the word they use to mean "day of the year" is a different one), and "rakru" literally means "night." The word for love--true love, reciprocated love--is "deil'eru."

This is not, by any means, all of the Guardians.

I want to make up little stories about the various gurumi. Eee.

a thought
Tuesday, July 15, 2003
12:02 a.m.

The draconian calendar is, right now, sixteen months to a year. This can be changed, if you so wish it, but I was actually wondering--with which season does their calendar begin? I'm inclined to make it Spring, since that's the season of rebirth and renewal or whatnot, but what if it began with Winter? Wouldn't their New Year celebrations be very somber? Maybe their new year begins on their equivalent with the Winter Solstice--remember that firedance story I did? Maybe the bonfire burns into the new year.

Yes, yes, I know, I need to write a ceremony involving sand.

just another note
Monday, July 14, 2003
11:06 p.m.

I shortened everyone's lifespans again, because all those big numbers on the outline were starting to unnerve me again. I think such long lifespans are beyond puny mortal imaginings, and the dragons don't really act like creatures that live five hundred years or more. Do they? I don't know. Talk to me. Ruby dragons are another thing altogether. I'm well-prepared to believe they're well-nigh immortal. How long are demons expected to live?

the sequel
Tuesday, June 10, 2003
10:29 p.m.

Buh? I think my brain wants me to make another character. o_O A river dragon. I've been doodling them quite a bit; they strongly resemble Eastern-style dragons (especially Haku from Spirited Away), and today I drew one that seemed to have more. . . personality and spirit. I was wondering if they play a role in the sequel? We have some ideas of what's happening in the prequel, but only a vague idea of the sequel.

d00d, we should to finish the Tale before we get to the Verses. >_<

--Kit

music
Thursday, May 8, 2003
06:55 p.m.

I'll start making this CD any day now. As soon as I stop twitching over whether or not it's perfect.

"Fate" by Trans-Siberian Orchestra - the whole damn book
"Let Me Fall" by Cirque du Soleil - Enin's theme
"Funeral Ikos" by John Tavener - for the dead
"Requiem Overture" by Clint Mansell - the Wars
"Northern Cross" by Cry Cry Cry - Alexandra's past
"Everything In its Own Time" by Indigo Girls - anything that involves teaching
"Strange Waters" by Bruce Cockburn - to the Gods
"Hymn of the Fayth" by Nobuo Uematsu - mood music
"Gypsy" by Suzanne Vega - wandering Zosimus
"Try Not to Breathe" by R.E.M. - more mood music
"Star no Star" by Jack off Jill - Gregol/Kohona or, alternatively, Nikki/Zosimus
"By Way of Sorrow" by Cry Cry Cry - Zosimus with the Named
"Wish You Were Here" by Incubus - Zosimus with the Named
"Ghost" by Indigo Girls - oh, look at the lyrics
"I Am Stretched On Your Grave" (traditional) - we've mentioned this obsession with dead people
"Down in the River to Pray" with Allison Krauss - the black dragons prepare for the final days
"Losing My Religion" by R.E.M. - the downfall of the dragons
"Full Circle" by Loreena McKennitt - finale

current mix length: 1:17:15

Speak now, or forever hold your peace.

miscellaneous flashes
Monday, April 7, 2003
09:56 p.m.

Enin was the only one who could stand on the water. He would not go out very far, merely a few feet out into the tide and stand there as if the ocean was solid land. There wouldn't even be ripples under his feet. None of us could ever figure out why.

(augh Enin is not Jesus)

---

"It's no profession for a lady," he said gruffly.

Kohona stared at him incredulously, and then laughed and slammed her sword home into his scabbard. "We'll see how much of a lady I am when you're flat on your back with my sword at your throat."

(i've decided that Kohona uses a two-sword style. don't ask me why, she just does.)

misc. babble
Saturday, April 5, 2003
05:55 p.m.

Rachel asked me some questions the other day. I didn't have any trouble answering them, but it's something to think about. One question was, how much time do the dragons spend in human form vs. their "true" forms? Are there any "outcasts" who prefer one over the other and are looked down upon as a result?

My rather flimsy justification for dragons being in human form is that the metabolic cost is lower. After all, something as big as a dragon has to consume a lot of food, and since most dragons are carnivorous (or mostly carnivorous), that poses a problem. I think we have to revise that and come up with something more plausible, especially since smaller animals have a higher metabolism.

So, anyway, the answer I gave Rachel is that it depends on the race and what kind of community they live in. Gold dragons are very social and tend to live in cities, or at least large groups, and so spend most of their time as hominids. Black dragons are the same, and their draconian counterparts are so large and require so much feeding that it's impractical to be any other way, really. Ruby dragons, on the other hand, spend most of their time in draconian form. They live in caves, so size isn't really an issue. Pearl dragons, as I recall, live mostly in the mountains and on cliffsides. They're fairly small. I think they probably spend most of their time as dragons, as transportation in the mountains is easier if you can fly (or glide, as in the case with the pearl dragons). Green dragons are probably somewhere in between, as they pull their own wagons/carry their own goods, but of course do most of the harvesting and whatnot as two-leggers. What do you think?

Dak'shira
Monday, March 31, 2003
02:41 p.m.

A puddle on a clear spring day, undisturbed by wind, reflects the sky so clearly that it seems you could fall into the clouds.

Dak'shira crouched before such a puddle, or at least it looked like a puddle. But somehow he could dip his hand into it up to the wrist, and when he brought it back out, with water cupped in it, the water did not trickle and drip between his fingers as it usually does. He opened his hand and let the water cascade freely back down into the puddle, shattering the beautiful mirror image of the sky.

"People," he said, "forget how treacherous water can be."

He sank his hand into the water again, farther this time, up to his elbow and then to his shoulder, and then his entire body slid into the seeming-puddle with scarcely a ripple, and it looked as if no one had been there at all.

His skin has a bluish tinge to it, like a drowned corpse, but on him it looks perfectly natural.

(damn you, Dagger)

babble
Friday, March 14, 2003
11:06 p.m.

I had one of those peculiar waking-dreams. You know, where you just kind of let your mind wander while the teacher is talking and let your pencil sketch idly on the paper.

"We are Gods, yes," said Gyrnath. "But we are not dragons."

Then why do you look like dragons?

"Because you want us to look like dragons," he said, quite bluntly. "We did not create the races in our own image. They created us in theirs. The demons have their gods as well."

I think I saw the All-Mother. They called her Death.

music
Friday, March 14, 2003
01:57 p.m.

I'm a gigantic dork, so I propose we make a CD of some sort that would be a sort of "soundtrack" to The Book. It would, of course, actually be a mix consisting entirely of copyrighted music, but nobody needs to know that.

Why yes, I'm avoiding Biology. Why do you ask?

And now, in some semblance of order:

"Fate" by Trans-Siberian Orchestra - the whole damn book
"Let Me Fall" by Cirque du Soleil - Enin's theme
"Funeral Ikos" by John Tavener - for the dead
"Requiem Overture" by Clint Mansell - the Wars
"Northern Cross" by Cry Cry Cry - Alexandra's past
"Everything In its Own Time" by Indigo Girls - anything that involves teaching
"Strange Waters" by Bruce Cockburn - to the Gods
"Hymn of the Fayth" by Nobuo Uematsu - uh. . . something
"Gypsy" by Suzanne Vega - wandering Zosimus
"Big Yellow Taxi" covered by Amy Grant - things change
"Try Not to Breathe" by R.E.M. - uh. . . something
"Star no Star" by Jack off Jill - Gregol/Kohona or, alternatively, Nikki/Zosimus
"By Way of Sorrow" by Cry Cry Cry - Zosimus with the Named
"Wish You Were Here" by Incubus - Zosimus with the Named
"I Am Stretched On Your Grave" (traditional song) - Gregol/Kohona, or anyone else who's (mildly) obsessed with someone dead, really
"Down in the River to Pray" with Allison Krauss - the black dragons prepare for the final days
"Losing My Religion" by R.E.M. - the downfall of the dragons
"Full Circle" by Loreena McKennitt - finale

current mix length: 01:15:07

Dragon stuff
Tuesday, February 25, 2003
08:46 p.m.

Just some general musings on the different dragon races and their respective cultures and whatnot. This is going to be very incomplete, as you know more about some of the races than I do.

The black dragons, in their true forms, are the largest of the dragons and can probably grow up to seventy feet in length. They have very broad heads with large jaws, much like Tyrannosaurs, a long neck, and then a large, muscular body and thick limbs. Dorsal spines run from forehead to tailtip, with the spines elongating at the tip of the tail much like Stegosaurus tailspikes. Individual dragons may vary somewhat, of course, in size and musculature. Their eye ridges are also usually protectively spiked, and they have two pairs of ear-horns instead of one. In human forms they also tend to have very strong builds, some taller and thicker than others, with black hair and dark skin. Eye color varies in both forms.

The black dragons generally live in settled clans or nomadic hunter-gatherer tribes. Of the settled clans, the Named are probably the most famous and well-known. There are several lesser ones, certainly smaller, who live in the mountains or clifftops. The nomadic tribes generally wander the plains. Those who don't live with a group usually make their living as mercenaries, bodyguards, or permanent houseguards somewhere. They typically do not take very well to magic; they usually learn rudimentary Healing spells, and useful spells such as fire-lighting, but not much else. Black dragons in general tend to be hot-headed and stubborn, but also fiercely loyal.

Clutch size tends to be large, around fifteen eggs, but only two or three out of a clutch actually contain embryos. The rest contain only fluid. Black dragons are long-lived, around a thousand years or so, and dragonlings usually mature around seventy.

Green dragons tend to be much smaller in their true forms, perhaps thirty feet at most. Their necks are slightly shorter and thicker than other dragons and they are completely flightless, but are capable of going on four feet or two. Unlike the other dragon races, which are pretty much purely carnivorous, green dragons can eat and digest many types of plant matter. This makes them ideal for long distance trips, as they can literally "live off the land." However, rather than the plated, "feathery" scales like snakes--and black and golden dragons--have, they have tough, pebbled hide in various shades of mottled green, which makes for excellent camouflage. Eye color varies, and they have a long, backwards-curving snout horn as well as the usual ear-horns. In human form they tend to be pretty non-descript, with brown hair and varying eye colors.

Green dragons are simple folk and live in settled agrarian communities, where must of their life revolves around farming and storytelling. Their storytellers occupy high positions in their society and have a wide repertoire of traditional ballads, parables, and legends. They're often wise in their own ways, though they may not be considered particularly "intelligent" by others, and usually entertain a high degree of respect. Those who don't live in a community are traveling merchants and traders, and green dragons usually get a lot of business.

Clutch sizes are usually around ten, and about half of them are expected to hatch. The rest, as in the other races, are filled with nothing but fluid. Green dragons have middling lifespans of about four hundred to five hundred years, and the young mature quickly, around thirty.

(If there's anything you don't like in what I just said, or something I just got wrong, do tell me. The green dragons are your babies, here.)

Gold dragons are the fairest, both in human form and draconian. Their draconian forms grow about fifty feet long. They have slim, rather serpentine heads, with a long neck. Overall they are built slender and streamlined, with beautiful golden scales. Short, stubby dorsal spines run from forehead to tailtip, elongating slightly on the back. Their handclaws are more dextrous than that of the black dragons and are capable of picking things up, though of course nowhere near as nimble as the "hands" that the pearl dragons possess in their true forms. Their human forms are very fair-skinned and have blonde hair of varying shades, and their eyes are blue or green.

The gold dragons are usually highly intelligent and like to show it off. Typically they have lived in small "cities." Most of them now live in Council City, although some still prefer the outlying towns. They are excellent scholars and usually take on positions as politicians, secretaries, lawyers, speechwriters, teachers, doctors, and scientists. Those who don't tend towards those professions prefer "being their own boss" and start small businesses. They also make excellent mages.

Clutch sizes are usually around twenty or so, but usually only three or four of them hatch. Gold dragons tend to be excellent but overbearing parents, and children may often feel stifled or pressured by their demanding parents. The average lifespan of a gold dragon is usually around seven hundred or so, and the children mature around fifty.

Pearl dragons are the smallest of the dragons. In their true form, they usually grow to be only ten feet long. Their draconian forms are actually more wyvern than dragon, with wings that are actually their arms, much like a pterosaur. They don't really have scales but a tough hide covered with fine hairs. Pearl dragons aren't terrific fliers but excellent gliders, and can do some fancy tricks in the air, too. With their wings folded out of the way their claw-hands are very dextrous and can be used almost like human hands, and they're also very adept climbers. Nearly all pearl dragons are born with an innate Healing ability, making them invaluable doctors, nurses, midwives, and field doctors. Many also have telepathic abilities. Their human forms tend to be very androgynous in appearance and have very pale features, hair, and eye colors.

(I don't know much about pearl dragon culture, but I recall that you came up with quite a bit, so fill in the holes here. ^^;; Also, let me know if the pearl dragons are anatomically feasible.)

Not much is known about the ruby dragons. Their draconian forms can grow very large, around sixty feet, nearly as large as a black dragon. Finding one of their scales is considered lucky. Their heads are middling in broadness, somewhere between the gold and the black dragons, and they have long, twisting horns. In build they're similar to the black dragons, though not as bulky, and they lack the dangerous tail spikes. Their foreclaws are about as nimble as the gold dragons', but not delicate enough to turn a page with tearing it. In human form they're reputedly very pale, with blood-red hair and eyes, although in their true form their eyes are gold.

The ruby dragons are very solitary, usually living alone in mountain, seashore, or forest caves. They're sometimes called "Speakers to the Gods," because of their fluency in the Old Tongue and their wisdom, which is supposedly Gods-given. Those whose existence are known to outsiders often find themselves playing the role of the "wise sage on the mountaintop," sought after for advice about this or that. Generally they live a peaceful existence, bothering no one so long as no one bothers them. Little to nothing is known about them otherwise; for all intents and purposes they have very little contact with each other, so nobody has any idea how they reproduce.