The dirt road seemed to stretch out endlessly before him, but Bolin trudged on. The beautifully setting sun would have cheered and inspired him on any other day, but this day had been long, and left him feeling rather dry of motivation. The one worry that pressed his mind the most was that of Lola. Creativity is a part of me. If Lola can’t love that, she doesn’t love all of me. But Bolin shook the thought away. Of course Lola loves me. She just has different interests, and that’s okay. An out-of-place noise broke into his thoughts. It sounded almost like a sheep, but good grazing areas didn’t lie upon this path; only overgrown meadows of unclaimed land. Could a sheep have strayed and gotten lost? Bolin strained his ears and was rewarded when the sound repeated, louder. He swiveled his head in the direction it came from. Sure enough, a sheep stood upon a hill a ways down the path, baaing forlornly. It’s certainly a long distance from home. Bolin turned and strode towards the animal. It would need to be returned to its owner, which was a bother that Bolin didn’t want to deal with, but if he left the sheep it likely wouldn’t survive on its own. So Bolin hurried after it, searching for a tag on its ear as he drew closer. The sheep skittered and turned away, disappearing from the hill for a moment before Bolin caught up to it. However, Bolin was entirely unprepared for the sight that greeted him at the top of the hill: dozens of sheep, a great white mass, were gathered not a quarter mile off and appeared to be making their way northwest. The sheep from the top of the hill was skipping over to join the rest of the herd. Not just a lost sheep, then. What’s a whole herd doing in these parts? He thought he saw an unusual bright speck of color at the back of the herd, but he couldn’t spot a shepherd anywhere. For an instant Bolin considered turning back and heading home again- for surely if there was a whole herd here, there was an unseen shepherd somewhere, which would nullify his need to help- but his curiosity overwhelmed him and Bolin trekked down the other side of the hill and began trotting after the stray sheep. He hoped to find a hint of where it had come from, but from what he could see, the sheep wasn’t wearing a tag on its ear as was typical for the domesticated livestock. Instead, one ear appeared to have been entirely dyed, like an array of watercolors splashed on a grey paper. As Bolin approached the herd, the baaing of the sheep became louder. However, another noise grew as well: the sound of singing. He couldn’t pick out any words, but Bolin could hear the lilting tune sway up and down, a cascade of clear notes. When he finally came close enough to see the individual sheep, Bolin realized that the song didn’t have any words to begin with. It was simply notes weaving together to create a tune that pulled him in. He headed towards the song’s origin at the back of the herd. Bolin stopped in his tracks. Behind the sea of white strode a tall, willowy figure enshrouded in colorful cloth. The colors appeared to ripple across the fabric, a constant river of hues blending in a rainbow of pigment. The woman held a shepherd’s crook, with colors flowing in a similar fashion, like the scepter of a ruler. Her sharp violet eyes gazed over the flock of sheep as her long, jet black hair swirled behind her without tangling or brushing against her face. The woman’s smooth skin was nearly completely white, with only a hint of pink in her cheeks. From her maroon lips emerged the wordless song. Bolin blanched, then flushed. “E-excuse me- ma-madam,” he stuttered. The woman gasped, her song breaking off, and everything instantly disappeared. Hope you liked the second chapter! If you read it, let me know and leave some feedback :D Note that I don't have Chapter 3 written yet, so it may be awhile before it makes its appearance. I'm a terribly slow writer.
0 Comments
I've started a new lengthy-ish story! Typical, I know, starting another before finishing my fanfic... but I do hope to finish the fic too. This story just sprung up on me and I had to grasp it. So, without further ado, the first chapter/section/mission/quest/thing! Bolin studied his painting carefully, searching every inch for flaws. His critical eye caught many, but none that he could yet fix. So he sighed, unsatisfied but knowing there was nothing more he could do to improve the work that evening, and gathered his paintbrushes.
|
Archives
March 2018
Categories |