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Entry tags:
Cobweb clearing
Okay, so I went and joined two groups: ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
daily15 and 1stfraseficlets. Hopefully, I can get the creative juices flowing well enough to finish something. Heaven forbid, really.
Well, here's my first bit into the Daily 15: some Soul Calibur. Surprise, surprise.
He was used to fruitless days. When searching for things as important as the shards of the Master's sword, you couldn't expect to simply claw around the ground for a bit and just pull pieces from the ground. These weren't grubs, or worms, or other morsels that he'd forgotten the taste of. Those were only important to the lesser things that weren't serving the Master.
Yes, serving the Master was what mattered, and as his Watcher, there were two things he had to do: find shards of the Master's sword, and find souls to satisfy the Master's hunger. The latter was much easier than the former. Peasants working the land took no notice of a raven flying overhead, and so long as he didn't land and eat their seed, they didn't care.
Finding the shards was another matter, and the Watcher knew this. It also knew the signs to look for: the look of madness in someone's eye, or the signs of a great struggle. The Watcher's exposure to his Master also allowed him to sense the shards themselves. They gave out a sharp, pulsing cry that few had the blessing--or curse--to hear. Finding the source of that cry was the only way to stop it. If not, it would simply grow that much worse, almost to the point where he thought his wings would falter if he didn't find it soon. Relief only came when he reached it. It would be then be silent, like chicks content with the meal their mother gave them, and he could go back to the Master.
Until then, the hunt continued.
Wah, that was... off. Oh, well, it's my first shot, and at least I'm writing. I think I've written the first Watcher-fic ever. Cool.
Constructive crit? Please?
daily15 and 1stfraseficlets. Hopefully, I can get the creative juices flowing well enough to finish something. Heaven forbid, really.Well, here's my first bit into the Daily 15: some Soul Calibur. Surprise, surprise.
He was used to fruitless days. When searching for things as important as the shards of the Master's sword, you couldn't expect to simply claw around the ground for a bit and just pull pieces from the ground. These weren't grubs, or worms, or other morsels that he'd forgotten the taste of. Those were only important to the lesser things that weren't serving the Master.
Yes, serving the Master was what mattered, and as his Watcher, there were two things he had to do: find shards of the Master's sword, and find souls to satisfy the Master's hunger. The latter was much easier than the former. Peasants working the land took no notice of a raven flying overhead, and so long as he didn't land and eat their seed, they didn't care.
Finding the shards was another matter, and the Watcher knew this. It also knew the signs to look for: the look of madness in someone's eye, or the signs of a great struggle. The Watcher's exposure to his Master also allowed him to sense the shards themselves. They gave out a sharp, pulsing cry that few had the blessing--or curse--to hear. Finding the source of that cry was the only way to stop it. If not, it would simply grow that much worse, almost to the point where he thought his wings would falter if he didn't find it soon. Relief only came when he reached it. It would be then be silent, like chicks content with the meal their mother gave them, and he could go back to the Master.
Until then, the hunt continued.
Wah, that was... off. Oh, well, it's my first shot, and at least I'm writing. I think I've written the first Watcher-fic ever. Cool.
Constructive crit? Please?