Entry tags:
Icon Tablet!
Journal:
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}
tristranthornRPG:
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif){kind=small}
milliways_barSnag yourself the coding here.
Journal:
tristranthornRPG:
milliways_barSnag yourself the coding here.
Entry tags:
[030] OOM - IVa of VII - ties that bind
Tristran Thorn hates this.
He hates not knowing what manner of events are taking place atop the deck; he hates being tied up; and he hates that he isn't quite as flexible as he assumed he was.
The knife is wedged between his hands, fingers clumsily grasping at the hilt of it in a manner that would be helpful and not hinder his getting free. Cursing silently, licking his lips, he attempts to maneuver the blade towards the ropes currently keeping his wrists tightly bound together.
Of course, the task is not an easy one.
"Come on," he mutters, the sound of his own voice partially dispelling some of the frustration he is currently trying to keep at bay. "Almost there ... almost ..."
He scrunches his face a little, tongue poised at the edge of his mouth, and it occurs to him that he very likely looks silly. Yvaine would laugh if she saw his face now.
The thought of Yvaine further ignites his determination to be free. He cannot stand the idea of her being up there - alone - with the lot of those rude, uncouth bird creatures. He's well aware Yvaine can take care of herself if the situation demanded it of her (and sometimes when it doesn't) but it would really calm his nerves and his mind if he saw for himself that she was all right.
(And that none of those bloody birds laid a single hand - nay, wing - upon her.)
But at the sound of raucous laughter, his heart freezes.
As does his hands.
And the unmistakable second worst sound in the world reaches his ears. (Second, because the absolute worst sound would be that of Yvaine's helpless scream.)
It is the sound of a metal blade clanging to the floor.
"Idiot!" he curses.
He scoots back a little, head turned as far as it would go to look over his shoulder and locate the lost knife. It lies on its side, harmless and flat against the wooden deck.
He sighs.
It would be most helpful if he were more flexible.
---
It had taken longer than he would have liked, but Tristran is finally free of his bindings.
The knife is in one hand. The chair is tipped over on its side (rather pathetically), a coil of discarded ropes left beside it, cut roughly to indicate an escapee.
And that very escapee is now at the door, ear pressed up against the wood to hear for any approaching creatures.
Then, feeling as safe as he is going to be aboard this enemy ship, he slips out in search of his star.
He hates not knowing what manner of events are taking place atop the deck; he hates being tied up; and he hates that he isn't quite as flexible as he assumed he was.
The knife is wedged between his hands, fingers clumsily grasping at the hilt of it in a manner that would be helpful and not hinder his getting free. Cursing silently, licking his lips, he attempts to maneuver the blade towards the ropes currently keeping his wrists tightly bound together.
Of course, the task is not an easy one.
"Come on," he mutters, the sound of his own voice partially dispelling some of the frustration he is currently trying to keep at bay. "Almost there ... almost ..."
He scrunches his face a little, tongue poised at the edge of his mouth, and it occurs to him that he very likely looks silly. Yvaine would laugh if she saw his face now.
The thought of Yvaine further ignites his determination to be free. He cannot stand the idea of her being up there - alone - with the lot of those rude, uncouth bird creatures. He's well aware Yvaine can take care of herself if the situation demanded it of her (and sometimes when it doesn't) but it would really calm his nerves and his mind if he saw for himself that she was all right.
(And that none of those bloody birds laid a single hand - nay, wing - upon her.)
But at the sound of raucous laughter, his heart freezes.
As does his hands.
And the unmistakable second worst sound in the world reaches his ears. (Second, because the absolute worst sound would be that of Yvaine's helpless scream.)
It is the sound of a metal blade clanging to the floor.
"Idiot!" he curses.
He scoots back a little, head turned as far as it would go to look over his shoulder and locate the lost knife. It lies on its side, harmless and flat against the wooden deck.
He sighs.
It would be most helpful if he were more flexible.
---
It had taken longer than he would have liked, but Tristran is finally free of his bindings.
The knife is in one hand. The chair is tipped over on its side (rather pathetically), a coil of discarded ropes left beside it, cut roughly to indicate an escapee.
And that very escapee is now at the door, ear pressed up against the wood to hear for any approaching creatures.
Then, feeling as safe as he is going to be aboard this enemy ship, he slips out in search of his star.
[029] OOM - IV of VII - The plot, as always, must thicken
It isn't very long (by normal standards, anyway) until the vultures return to the brig where Tristran and Yvaine are kept in captivity.
To Tristran, however, it feels as though he's been here in the same bloody position (his legs and arms aching, his nose itchy, his wrists stinging) for nearly three decades.
Conversation was made between the star and the half-faerie man, but even that became a little tiring when each Escape Plan was very soon promptly vetoed by the other. Not to mention, as the hours passed, so did the quality of their plans.
Generally workable, smart and clever plans soon filtered off into a series of silly, amusing 'What If' situations.
Take, for example:
"What if a flying pig crashed into the side of the ship wearing horse-shoes with blades underneath them that could cut through our ropes?"
"Why a pig?" asks Yvaine.
Which only garnered the answer from Tristran: "Because after the pig freed us, we could eat it. I'm starving."
And that only got the roll of eyes from the star.
Typical.
To Tristran, however, it feels as though he's been here in the same bloody position (his legs and arms aching, his nose itchy, his wrists stinging) for nearly three decades.
Conversation was made between the star and the half-faerie man, but even that became a little tiring when each Escape Plan was very soon promptly vetoed by the other. Not to mention, as the hours passed, so did the quality of their plans.
Generally workable, smart and clever plans soon filtered off into a series of silly, amusing 'What If' situations.
Take, for example:
"What if a flying pig crashed into the side of the ship wearing horse-shoes with blades underneath them that could cut through our ropes?"
"Why a pig?" asks Yvaine.
Which only garnered the answer from Tristran: "Because after the pig freed us, we could eat it. I'm starving."
And that only got the roll of eyes from the star.
Typical.
[028] OOM - I of VII - The Road Goes Ever On
The travel never seems to end, and already they've done so much of it.
Which, really, should mean that they are experts at this - with very little complaint and a whole lot of knowledge of what to do in all seasons and weather situations.
But while it can be said to be true that they know quite a lot about the weather and how to adapt to all its faces, the complaining bit hasn't changed too much. Occasionally, Tristran would get a little irritated with the lack of proper food to be found, and Yvaine would mutter about how uncomfortable the twigs sticking into her back are and how much better beds and soft pillows would be in comparison.
However, when everything is said and done, they actually (secretly) enjoy it all: the traveling, the alone-time, the utter freedom from any and all responsibility. They are hardly ever recognized in towns for who they truly are - sometimes not even when they reveal their names - and the ability to move about as they please is fun, leaving very little time to mope about.
When Tristran set off from the Thorn farm and household so many months ago to seek a fallen star, he never imagined that he would be here today with her, loving her and running away from his responsibility to govern an entire kingdom as a royal.
Which, really, should mean that they are experts at this - with very little complaint and a whole lot of knowledge of what to do in all seasons and weather situations.
But while it can be said to be true that they know quite a lot about the weather and how to adapt to all its faces, the complaining bit hasn't changed too much. Occasionally, Tristran would get a little irritated with the lack of proper food to be found, and Yvaine would mutter about how uncomfortable the twigs sticking into her back are and how much better beds and soft pillows would be in comparison.
However, when everything is said and done, they actually (secretly) enjoy it all: the traveling, the alone-time, the utter freedom from any and all responsibility. They are hardly ever recognized in towns for who they truly are - sometimes not even when they reveal their names - and the ability to move about as they please is fun, leaving very little time to mope about.
When Tristran set off from the Thorn farm and household so many months ago to seek a fallen star, he never imagined that he would be here today with her, loving her and running away from his responsibility to govern an entire kingdom as a royal.
Entry tags:
[027] OOM - Meet the Parents
As every good traveler knows, there must be a destination for which to head towards - otherwise, there is aimless wandering which makes for wasted time, wasted resources, and a more or less miserable time.
But as any good observer knows, Tristran and Yvaine do not follow rules whatsoever.
So the two companions - still terribly (and pathetically) in love - are doing exactly what good travelers do not: they are wandering aimlessly, wasting time and resources. Whether they are having a miserable time remains to be seen, though it is unlikely that they are even able to follow that part of the rule, anyway.
"You know," Tristran starts thoughtfully, turning to glance at the star, "it has come to my attention that you haven't met my family yet."
Why this thought suddenly springs up in the young man's mind is a mystery, but now that it has taken precedence in the forefront of his thoughts, he believes it important not to let it go.
"Before we left, I told my father about you," he continues. "And I am positive that my mother - my other mother - and my sister want to meet you too. What do you think?"
But as any good observer knows, Tristran and Yvaine do not follow rules whatsoever.
So the two companions - still terribly (and pathetically) in love - are doing exactly what good travelers do not: they are wandering aimlessly, wasting time and resources. Whether they are having a miserable time remains to be seen, though it is unlikely that they are even able to follow that part of the rule, anyway.
"You know," Tristran starts thoughtfully, turning to glance at the star, "it has come to my attention that you haven't met my family yet."
Why this thought suddenly springs up in the young man's mind is a mystery, but now that it has taken precedence in the forefront of his thoughts, he believes it important not to let it go.
"Before we left, I told my father about you," he continues. "And I am positive that my mother - my other mother - and my sister want to meet you too. What do you think?"
[026] OOM - There's no place like home
His shoulder and arm are - thankfully - healed completely at this point. It has been many weeks, but the help of pain medication, good stress-free rest, and delicious food helped splendidly in his recovery.
However, the time to return to Faerie draws near. On the one hand, Tristran is quite glad of it. It is their home, after all, and he is looking forward to really starting...well, things with Yvaine. But on the other, there is the ever-looming realization that he will soon have to inherit an entire kingdom and the responsibility of it all is somewhat staggering.
His shoulder is still a little stiff from the lack of use, but at least he is now able to do things with both of his arms. It is a very good feeling.
He glances over at Yvaine.
Now it is simply a matter of bringing up the whole ... going home thing - if she doesn't bring it up first.
However, the time to return to Faerie draws near. On the one hand, Tristran is quite glad of it. It is their home, after all, and he is looking forward to really starting...well, things with Yvaine. But on the other, there is the ever-looming realization that he will soon have to inherit an entire kingdom and the responsibility of it all is somewhat staggering.
His shoulder is still a little stiff from the lack of use, but at least he is now able to do things with both of his arms. It is a very good feeling.
He glances over at Yvaine.
Now it is simply a matter of bringing up the whole ... going home thing - if she doesn't bring it up first.
Entry tags:
Canon List
[A 'BEFORE YOU BEGIN' NOTE: This entire post contains spoilers for the Stardust novel.
For those interested, the muns of Stardust are following about 95% of the book-canon, and about 5% of the movie-canon, with bits of Originality thrown in.
The events that follow start from when Tristran starts his quest for the star, leaving Wall and crossing into Faerie, a place he couldn't begin to imagine.]
Stardust
at Milliways Bar
Tristran's initial journey starts off right outside of Wall, in Faerie where a hairy man lends a hand. His quest for the star begins, and he feels rather alone and lost. Eventually, his luck will change when Tristran discovers Yvaine.
Tristran tells Yvaine what he plans to do with her.
They find Milliways Bar on the way to the Glade.
They decide to stay overnight..., then decide to stay a little longer... before eventually Tristran puts his foot down and they leave the bar to continue his quest.
During their questing, they come across a very unusual battle. Tristran has to use all his wit and knowledge of poetry in order to solve the problem of the Lion and the Unicorn.
The unicorn travels with them, until they come across Milliways again. They decide to stay for a while, putting the unicorn in the stables. They take Room 314, learn how to make snow-angels, and generally have a good time until...
Tristran gets sick. Which leads to a series of posts that deal with the two of them staying inside until Tristran recovers.
It is April Fools when Bar decides to turn them into little'uns. Oddly enough, they seem to take it well, getting along with each other, and others, far better than they would have when they are grown up.
Then they go back to their rooms, find their bed and fall asleep next to each other.
In the morning, Yvaine wakes up and discovers something horrid. She does not hesitate to take the opportunity to leave, quite unchained.
Meanwhile, Tristran awakes, and realizes that the star is gone. Panicked, he heads down to the bar and with no good news, decides to return to Faerie in hopes that she'd gone there. This is where he meets a wood-nymph who was turned into a tree. She offers him her help, and he catches a ride with one of his uncles on a black carriage.
There is conversation between them and eventually the ride takes him to the inn where Yvaine is staying with the witch, rather enjoying herself. Many, many violent deaths occur only short moments later, including that of the unicorn, and Primus himself.
Quickly escaping the witch before Tristran & Yvaine meet their untimely end, they eventually find themselves settling on a series of clouds. Tristran shouts to the sky, and a ship of pirates find them, offering them a lift. The two companions learn the ways of the sky-pirates, Yvaine charming the crew, while Tristran is given lessons in swords from the captain, Johannes Alberic.
They find the bar once again, on one nice calming night, and stay for a bit to recuperate, finding good food and good company. Yvaine even steps out of her anti-social shell, chatting with Puck, and later, Sophie Hatter.
Awkwardness and a very distinct feeling of knowing things but not knowing starts to cloud the minds of the two (more Tristran than Yvaine, who has sort of figured things out earlier) as they dance at Will Scarlett's midsummer party.
They return to the Perdita and discover that their stay is about to come to a close. In only a few days time, the Perdita lands in a tree harbour and the two companions are off again on their journey to Wall. They nearly get imprisoned by goblins in Simcock-Under-Hill, determined to keep Tristran as a soldier (as he is the tallest), but they quickly escape that.
Next comes their brush with large tawny eagles eager to find food in which the only thing they can do to escape is to wait on luck which comes to them in the form of fire. There is more awkward and realizing between the two of them.
They escape the tawny eagles only to land in Fulkston, a village that immediately takes to Tristran's ability to tell stories so much so that they wish not to let him go at any cost and in fact, some of the ladies become quite infatuated with him (much to Yvaine's discontent). Eventually the tensions run so high that upon fleeing the village, Yvaine and Tristran get into their first fight.
Still, things are not amiss and the two of them make up and continuously close the distance to Wall. They happen to bump into a caravan which will take them to the market by Wall, only the deal Tristran makes isn't exactly what he has in mind. In fact, it downright sort of sucks. But Yvaine takes very good care of him, even tells him some of her deepest feelings (thinking he won't remember any of it). Then finally the caravan lands arrives at its destination.
They're almost home. Yet when Tristran tries to cross over the wall for the second time in his entire life, he is very firmly rejected and stopped. In a huff, Tristran is tempted to exercise the part of him that doesn't usually resort to violence, but it is Yvaine who tells him not to fight with his own people. They settle down for the night in the marketplace, where Tristran gets undoubtedly drunk, and tensions between the companions run very high . . . before he passes out on her.
Later that night, a mysterious woman comes to see Yvaine and Tristran and gives the star a warning while Tristran is very much asleep.
And in the morning, Tristran is forced awake by a badger who tells him there is someone to see him. There are reunions with both his sister, and with Victoria herself. True, concrete realizations are made. Then Tristran and his father are reacquainted with each other before heading home and discovering things about his birth.
In the mean time, Yvaine meets Victoria. And she discovers that Tristran is, in fact, not marrying her. This is relieving news at best.
Hours later, Tristran finally returns to the gap by the Wall, and the greatest moment in all of canon history is made as the two finally confess their feelings. They decide to take a walk to the marketplace, and it is there that Lady Una presents herself as Tristran's mother and Yvaine passes on the topaz to Tristran. He is thus proclaimed the last male heir of Stormhold kingdom. Refusing to return to Stormhold right away, Tristran and Yvaine promise to come back on their own time. At some point, Yvaine also runs into the witches who had wanted to steal her heart, and come to some amendment.
Off they go, walking hand-in-hand into the sunset - I mean, the East. For good old-fashioned adventuring fun.
For those interested, the muns of Stardust are following about 95% of the book-canon, and about 5% of the movie-canon, with bits of Originality thrown in.
The events that follow start from when Tristran starts his quest for the star, leaving Wall and crossing into Faerie, a place he couldn't begin to imagine.]
Tristran's initial journey starts off right outside of Wall, in Faerie where a hairy man lends a hand. His quest for the star begins, and he feels rather alone and lost. Eventually, his luck will change when Tristran discovers Yvaine.
Tristran tells Yvaine what he plans to do with her.
They find Milliways Bar on the way to the Glade.
They decide to stay overnight..., then decide to stay a little longer... before eventually Tristran puts his foot down and they leave the bar to continue his quest.
During their questing, they come across a very unusual battle. Tristran has to use all his wit and knowledge of poetry in order to solve the problem of the Lion and the Unicorn.
The unicorn travels with them, until they come across Milliways again. They decide to stay for a while, putting the unicorn in the stables. They take Room 314, learn how to make snow-angels, and generally have a good time until...
Tristran gets sick. Which leads to a series of posts that deal with the two of them staying inside until Tristran recovers.
It is April Fools when Bar decides to turn them into little'uns. Oddly enough, they seem to take it well, getting along with each other, and others, far better than they would have when they are grown up.
Then they go back to their rooms, find their bed and fall asleep next to each other.
In the morning, Yvaine wakes up and discovers something horrid. She does not hesitate to take the opportunity to leave, quite unchained.
Meanwhile, Tristran awakes, and realizes that the star is gone. Panicked, he heads down to the bar and with no good news, decides to return to Faerie in hopes that she'd gone there. This is where he meets a wood-nymph who was turned into a tree. She offers him her help, and he catches a ride with one of his uncles on a black carriage.
There is conversation between them and eventually the ride takes him to the inn where Yvaine is staying with the witch, rather enjoying herself. Many, many violent deaths occur only short moments later, including that of the unicorn, and Primus himself.
Quickly escaping the witch before Tristran & Yvaine meet their untimely end, they eventually find themselves settling on a series of clouds. Tristran shouts to the sky, and a ship of pirates find them, offering them a lift. The two companions learn the ways of the sky-pirates, Yvaine charming the crew, while Tristran is given lessons in swords from the captain, Johannes Alberic.
They find the bar once again, on one nice calming night, and stay for a bit to recuperate, finding good food and good company. Yvaine even steps out of her anti-social shell, chatting with Puck, and later, Sophie Hatter.
Awkwardness and a very distinct feeling of knowing things but not knowing starts to cloud the minds of the two (more Tristran than Yvaine, who has sort of figured things out earlier) as they dance at Will Scarlett's midsummer party.
They return to the Perdita and discover that their stay is about to come to a close. In only a few days time, the Perdita lands in a tree harbour and the two companions are off again on their journey to Wall. They nearly get imprisoned by goblins in Simcock-Under-Hill, determined to keep Tristran as a soldier (as he is the tallest), but they quickly escape that.
Next comes their brush with large tawny eagles eager to find food in which the only thing they can do to escape is to wait on luck which comes to them in the form of fire. There is more awkward and realizing between the two of them.
They escape the tawny eagles only to land in Fulkston, a village that immediately takes to Tristran's ability to tell stories so much so that they wish not to let him go at any cost and in fact, some of the ladies become quite infatuated with him (much to Yvaine's discontent). Eventually the tensions run so high that upon fleeing the village, Yvaine and Tristran get into their first fight.
Still, things are not amiss and the two of them make up and continuously close the distance to Wall. They happen to bump into a caravan which will take them to the market by Wall, only the deal Tristran makes isn't exactly what he has in mind. In fact, it downright sort of sucks. But Yvaine takes very good care of him, even tells him some of her deepest feelings (thinking he won't remember any of it). Then finally the caravan lands arrives at its destination.
They're almost home. Yet when Tristran tries to cross over the wall for the second time in his entire life, he is very firmly rejected and stopped. In a huff, Tristran is tempted to exercise the part of him that doesn't usually resort to violence, but it is Yvaine who tells him not to fight with his own people. They settle down for the night in the marketplace, where Tristran gets undoubtedly drunk, and tensions between the companions run very high . . . before he passes out on her.
Later that night, a mysterious woman comes to see Yvaine and Tristran and gives the star a warning while Tristran is very much asleep.
And in the morning, Tristran is forced awake by a badger who tells him there is someone to see him. There are reunions with both his sister, and with Victoria herself. True, concrete realizations are made. Then Tristran and his father are reacquainted with each other before heading home and discovering things about his birth.
In the mean time, Yvaine meets Victoria. And she discovers that Tristran is, in fact, not marrying her. This is relieving news at best.
Hours later, Tristran finally returns to the gap by the Wall, and the greatest moment in all of canon history is made as the two finally confess their feelings. They decide to take a walk to the marketplace, and it is there that Lady Una presents herself as Tristran's mother and Yvaine passes on the topaz to Tristran. He is thus proclaimed the last male heir of Stormhold kingdom. Refusing to return to Stormhold right away, Tristran and Yvaine promise to come back on their own time. At some point, Yvaine also runs into the witches who had wanted to steal her heart, and come to some amendment.
Off they go, walking hand-in-hand into the sunset - I mean, the East. For good old-fashioned adventuring fun.
[025] OOM - Marketplaces and other places
The distinct smell of greasy fair food wafts in the smokey, heated air beneath the tents of the marketplace while the continuous chatter and bartering never ceases around them. It is a very busy, and very lively atmosphere and hardly a soul would notice you unless you were close enough to a stall with what might be assumed interest in one of the stall-keeper's products.
As it is, Tristran and Yvaine are taking a turn about the marketplace, hand-in-hand, walking past the gadgets and baubles with a detached sort of interest. They have more important things to think about - mainly to do with one another.
Now, this is not to say they won't have an enjoyable time at the market, of course. In fact, one can be certain that the two of them have never had more fun than they are having right now.
As it is, Tristran and Yvaine are taking a turn about the marketplace, hand-in-hand, walking past the gadgets and baubles with a detached sort of interest. They have more important things to think about - mainly to do with one another.
Now, this is not to say they won't have an enjoyable time at the market, of course. In fact, one can be certain that the two of them have never had more fun than they are having right now.
[024] OOM - Stardust
The sky begins to grow slightly darker and greyer by the time Tristran leaves his home. Feeling well-fed, happy, and anxious all at the same time, Tristran readjusts his coat and sets off, waving happily to his family, standing by the entrance of the door. Now that there are no other prior engagements, there is only one thing left to do - and admittedly, it is all he can think about anyway.
Tristran leaves the village and makes his way to the wall at a quick pace, passing people by without a word, bent on one path and one path only. When he reaches the gap, he looks distractedly for Yvaine, brightening immensely upon seeing her.
Practically sprinting to reach the star, he smiles, slowing to a stop before her. His hands are slightly clammy, and possibly even trembling as he holds them out.
"Hello, you," he says. Then in a teasing tone, "Have a good time waiting for me?"
Tristran leaves the village and makes his way to the wall at a quick pace, passing people by without a word, bent on one path and one path only. When he reaches the gap, he looks distractedly for Yvaine, brightening immensely upon seeing her.
Practically sprinting to reach the star, he smiles, slowing to a stop before her. His hands are slightly clammy, and possibly even trembling as he holds them out.
"Hello, you," he says. Then in a teasing tone, "Have a good time waiting for me?"
Entry tags:
[023] OOM - The truth about his birth
Tristran can vaguely remember the Seventh Magpie being so crowded -- it's happened only once before in his lifetime, and he had been very young then. When he makes his way back through the bar, he has to move carefully, weaving his way past people -- Wall-folk and other strangers alike -- eating (lambchops, bacon, mushrooms, fried eggs, black pudding) and drinking (ale, mead, lager) to reach the exit.
The conversation had gone strangely. Or - well. It went a lot more differently than he ever would have expected it to have gone. His original vision of this fateful day was as follows:
He would get himself back into Wall with a celestial rock in his pocket and find Victoria at her house. Or maybe in front of it (it didn't really matter so much, so long as she was there). He would bend down on one knee before her and reveal the star to her in a gallant fashion like some grand hero. And she would beam and giggle and smile at him. She would wrap her arms around him and he would kiss her and ask her to marry him and they would live happily ever after from then on.
Now, everything is different. Now not only is that dream far away, but it is nonexistent. And the very thought makes him unimaginably happier than he would have believed many months ago. Imagine being stuck here -- in some place where he really doesn't belong -- with Victoria, knowing she would never truly be happy with him. And he with her. He realizes now, quite clearly, that he really could never be happy with all of the things he once wanted. It was all a dream, an ideal his foolish mind had woven because he was young and infatuated and silly.
He is now a man, and he is a man in love. It just so happened to go all -- well, wrong (unplanned), and unexpected (a complete surprise) and ... strangely, he doesn't mind at all. His heart feels lighter.
He wants to tell her. He wants to shout it to the world --
"Tristran."
As he whirls around, his eyes land on a man far older than him rising as they meet eyes. He comes over to younger man and clasps him on the shoulder without speaking.
It is Tristran who breaks the silence. "Father," he says. "You -- you look good."
The conversation had gone strangely. Or - well. It went a lot more differently than he ever would have expected it to have gone. His original vision of this fateful day was as follows:
He would get himself back into Wall with a celestial rock in his pocket and find Victoria at her house. Or maybe in front of it (it didn't really matter so much, so long as she was there). He would bend down on one knee before her and reveal the star to her in a gallant fashion like some grand hero. And she would beam and giggle and smile at him. She would wrap her arms around him and he would kiss her and ask her to marry him and they would live happily ever after from then on.
Now, everything is different. Now not only is that dream far away, but it is nonexistent. And the very thought makes him unimaginably happier than he would have believed many months ago. Imagine being stuck here -- in some place where he really doesn't belong -- with Victoria, knowing she would never truly be happy with him. And he with her. He realizes now, quite clearly, that he really could never be happy with all of the things he once wanted. It was all a dream, an ideal his foolish mind had woven because he was young and infatuated and silly.
He is now a man, and he is a man in love. It just so happened to go all -- well, wrong (unplanned), and unexpected (a complete surprise) and ... strangely, he doesn't mind at all. His heart feels lighter.
He wants to tell her. He wants to shout it to the world --
"Tristran."
As he whirls around, his eyes land on a man far older than him rising as they meet eyes. He comes over to younger man and clasps him on the shoulder without speaking.
It is Tristran who breaks the silence. "Father," he says. "You -- you look good."
Entry tags:
[022] OOM - Reunions and meetings and things of that nature
"Party name of Thorn? Tristran of that set?"
It is a little after sunrise when Tristran opens his eyes to see a large badger approach him on its hind legs, wearing a threadbare heliotrope silk dressing gown. It bends forward, peering at him self-importantly, awaiting his response.
"Mm?"
Oh. And there's suddenly a headache the size of all of Faerie, he imagines, clogging his entire head, making him feel like someone's hit him repeatedly with a grand piano. There is a foul taste in his mouth, one which feels dry and furred. He could easily have slept for another several hours, and yet he knows he cannot at the same time.
"They've been asking about you," the badger goes on."Down by the gap. Seems there's a young lady wants to have a word with you."
Tristran sits up immediately. Something rises in his chest, but something also sinks. "Oh?"
The badger nods.
He turns to touch the sleeping star on her shoulder. "Yvaine," he says.
It is a little after sunrise when Tristran opens his eyes to see a large badger approach him on its hind legs, wearing a threadbare heliotrope silk dressing gown. It bends forward, peering at him self-importantly, awaiting his response.
"Mm?"
Oh. And there's suddenly a headache the size of all of Faerie, he imagines, clogging his entire head, making him feel like someone's hit him repeatedly with a grand piano. There is a foul taste in his mouth, one which feels dry and furred. He could easily have slept for another several hours, and yet he knows he cannot at the same time.
"They've been asking about you," the badger goes on."Down by the gap. Seems there's a young lady wants to have a word with you."
Tristran sits up immediately. Something rises in his chest, but something also sinks. "Oh?"
The badger nods.
He turns to touch the sleeping star on her shoulder. "Yvaine," he says.
Entry tags:
[021] OOM - Wall - are we there yet?
It goes on for weeks.
In a bone-jarring, rattling sort of way, the caravan continues its path towards Wall, and towards the market fair. Any passersby whom they see -- which occurs very infrequently -- are met with confusing circumstances. While they can see Yvaine, the witch (as she is a witch) calling herself Madame Semele cannot, and shortly it becomes clear to anyone, including the star, that Semele could never perceive Yvaine's presence or even hear anything pertaining to her existence. (Which, really, would explain quite a lot.)
The sun is low in the western sky when they approach the little village of Wall many weeks later. It shines in their eyes, bathing everything in its light, turning the world around them into liquid gold. It is when they find a rather empty lot -- a grassy meadow -- that Madame Semele reins her mules in, and unhitches them.
Already there are others like her setting up their stalls and tents on the grassy area in preparation for the fair that occurs every nine years, hanging draperies from trees and hammering planks of wood together. There is an excitement in the air that seems to reach everyone, even the sour old witch (but it is very fleeting).
She returns to the caravan after hitching her mules to a nearby tree, and unhooks the cage from its chain. Then, carrying it to the meadow, she puts it down on a hillock of grass and opens the door.
"Out you come," she says, picking the sleeping dormouse up with bony fingers. She settles him down to the ground.
Tristran rubs his liquid-black eyes with his forepaws and blinks sleepily. The witch reaches into her apron and pulls out what appears to be a glass daffodil. With it, she touches his head. Where once was a mouse, there is now an 18-year-old man, blinking and yawning with sleep. He runs a hand through his unruly brown hair, then appears to snap back into reality as he stares down at the witch angrily.
"Why, you evil old crone--" he begins, reaching for his sword. But he is sleepy and weak, and he finds his legs too unsteady to support him. He falls to the ground ungraciously.
"Hush your silly mouth," the witch retorts sharply -- and not without the slightest bit of amusement. "I got you here, safely and soundly, and in the same condition I found you. I gave you board and I gave you lodging -- and if neither of them were to your liking or expectation, well, what is it to me? Now, be off with you, before I change you into a wiggling worm and bite off your head, if it is not your tail. Go! Shoo! Shoo!"
With that, she returns to building up her tent.
In a bone-jarring, rattling sort of way, the caravan continues its path towards Wall, and towards the market fair. Any passersby whom they see -- which occurs very infrequently -- are met with confusing circumstances. While they can see Yvaine, the witch (as she is a witch) calling herself Madame Semele cannot, and shortly it becomes clear to anyone, including the star, that Semele could never perceive Yvaine's presence or even hear anything pertaining to her existence. (Which, really, would explain quite a lot.)
The sun is low in the western sky when they approach the little village of Wall many weeks later. It shines in their eyes, bathing everything in its light, turning the world around them into liquid gold. It is when they find a rather empty lot -- a grassy meadow -- that Madame Semele reins her mules in, and unhitches them.
Already there are others like her setting up their stalls and tents on the grassy area in preparation for the fair that occurs every nine years, hanging draperies from trees and hammering planks of wood together. There is an excitement in the air that seems to reach everyone, even the sour old witch (but it is very fleeting).
She returns to the caravan after hitching her mules to a nearby tree, and unhooks the cage from its chain. Then, carrying it to the meadow, she puts it down on a hillock of grass and opens the door.
"Out you come," she says, picking the sleeping dormouse up with bony fingers. She settles him down to the ground.
Tristran rubs his liquid-black eyes with his forepaws and blinks sleepily. The witch reaches into her apron and pulls out what appears to be a glass daffodil. With it, she touches his head. Where once was a mouse, there is now an 18-year-old man, blinking and yawning with sleep. He runs a hand through his unruly brown hair, then appears to snap back into reality as he stares down at the witch angrily.
"Why, you evil old crone--" he begins, reaching for his sword. But he is sleepy and weak, and he finds his legs too unsteady to support him. He falls to the ground ungraciously.
"Hush your silly mouth," the witch retorts sharply -- and not without the slightest bit of amusement. "I got you here, safely and soundly, and in the same condition I found you. I gave you board and I gave you lodging -- and if neither of them were to your liking or expectation, well, what is it to me? Now, be off with you, before I change you into a wiggling worm and bite off your head, if it is not your tail. Go! Shoo! Shoo!"
With that, she returns to building up her tent.
Entry tags:
[019] OOM - Fulkeston - When maidens get too close...
"That with music loud and long,
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome! those caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware ! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise."
There is applause, as per usual, as Tristran finishes reciting Coleridge's Kubla Khan, then excusing himself, he makes his way to the tavern-bar. It is honestly nothing like Milliways, and it makes him miss the magical place at the end of the universe just a little.
Yvaine is not here with him, making some excuse about being tired and in pain and would he stop annoying her with his silly, useless questions? She just wanted to go to sleep. He had complied, though with some great reluctance; after all, he wasn't used to being away from her for extended periods of time. Even nights had been more or less spent together. He assured himself that it was because he was afraid of someone taking her away from him which would only bode well for once they got back to Wall, because he needed to present her to Victoria. There was no other reason.
"Tristran?"
At first, he looks up thinking that it is Yvaine, come to join him after all because she can't sleep. Instead he finds himself staring into the sea-green eyes of a very particularly pretty maiden, one with very golden curls similar to those of Victoria Forester.
"Yes, hello," he greets her, and she takes it as her cue to sit and join him.
"You were marvelous tonight," she drawls, voice light like chimes.
He smiles. "Well, thank you," he says politely.
"I don't know how you can remember all those stories, but they are utterly fascinating." She puts a large mug of something before him. He hadn't noticed the barman and her exchange any words but he accepts it gratefully, raising both eyebrows and taking a sip.
"That girl," she starts immediately, and Tristran notices that she is edging closer towards him, elbows leaning against the table's surface. "Is she your girlfriend?"
The question is asked in such a frank manner that for a moment, in pure and utter shock, Tristran chokes, spitting out his drink quite ungracefully. "Wh-what? No, of - of course not." He coughs, and this gives the maiden an excuse to touch him, because she does. Her hand goes to his back, lightly patting him. Honestly, Tristran wishes she wouldn't do that, as it isn't helping him any.
"I'm sorry -- I hope that wasn't inappropriate," she says without the faintest hint of apology.
"W-well," Tristran chokes, "I -- it's all right, really." It isn't. His eyes are watering.
She passes him a napkin, almost as though from thin air. "So she is nothing to you, then."
Tristran takes it and wipes his mouth, letting the last of the coughs vacate his throat. Then he turns to the maiden, frowning. "Why do you ask?"
"Curious, really," comes the answer. Nonchalant, almost detached.
Tristran shrugs. "She and I are good friends," he replies. "And she means a lot to me."
This seems to deflate something in the maiden's face, making it a little uglier than it really ought to be. Tristran gives her a half-smile and straightens. "Well, I should probably be getting to my room now," he says by way of excusing himself. He puts the napkin down next to his unfinished drink and shifts to stand, but the girl has put her hand on his leg, freezing him from even taking another breath.
"Do you have to go so soon?" she croons, voice lower now.
Tristran's face goes red, and really, he isn't used to this sort of treatment at all. Being congratulated, and given renown for his ability to remember stories, certainly, but this...this isn't -- he doesn't want to, anyway, and what would Yvaine say if she saw --
"We could always take a walk around for a bit," she continues, and Tristran swallows. With a swift movement, he takes her hand from his leg and places it back in her lap awkwardly.
"I'm flattered, really, but I -- I am quite tired." He stands before she can say or do anything, then hurriedly rushes into the crowd in an attempt to blend in and disappear from her view.
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome! those caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware ! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise."
There is applause, as per usual, as Tristran finishes reciting Coleridge's Kubla Khan, then excusing himself, he makes his way to the tavern-bar. It is honestly nothing like Milliways, and it makes him miss the magical place at the end of the universe just a little.
Yvaine is not here with him, making some excuse about being tired and in pain and would he stop annoying her with his silly, useless questions? She just wanted to go to sleep. He had complied, though with some great reluctance; after all, he wasn't used to being away from her for extended periods of time. Even nights had been more or less spent together. He assured himself that it was because he was afraid of someone taking her away from him which would only bode well for once they got back to Wall, because he needed to present her to Victoria. There was no other reason.
"Tristran?"
At first, he looks up thinking that it is Yvaine, come to join him after all because she can't sleep. Instead he finds himself staring into the sea-green eyes of a very particularly pretty maiden, one with very golden curls similar to those of Victoria Forester.
"Yes, hello," he greets her, and she takes it as her cue to sit and join him.
"You were marvelous tonight," she drawls, voice light like chimes.
He smiles. "Well, thank you," he says politely.
"I don't know how you can remember all those stories, but they are utterly fascinating." She puts a large mug of something before him. He hadn't noticed the barman and her exchange any words but he accepts it gratefully, raising both eyebrows and taking a sip.
"That girl," she starts immediately, and Tristran notices that she is edging closer towards him, elbows leaning against the table's surface. "Is she your girlfriend?"
The question is asked in such a frank manner that for a moment, in pure and utter shock, Tristran chokes, spitting out his drink quite ungracefully. "Wh-what? No, of - of course not." He coughs, and this gives the maiden an excuse to touch him, because she does. Her hand goes to his back, lightly patting him. Honestly, Tristran wishes she wouldn't do that, as it isn't helping him any.
"I'm sorry -- I hope that wasn't inappropriate," she says without the faintest hint of apology.
"W-well," Tristran chokes, "I -- it's all right, really." It isn't. His eyes are watering.
She passes him a napkin, almost as though from thin air. "So she is nothing to you, then."
Tristran takes it and wipes his mouth, letting the last of the coughs vacate his throat. Then he turns to the maiden, frowning. "Why do you ask?"
"Curious, really," comes the answer. Nonchalant, almost detached.
Tristran shrugs. "She and I are good friends," he replies. "And she means a lot to me."
This seems to deflate something in the maiden's face, making it a little uglier than it really ought to be. Tristran gives her a half-smile and straightens. "Well, I should probably be getting to my room now," he says by way of excusing himself. He puts the napkin down next to his unfinished drink and shifts to stand, but the girl has put her hand on his leg, freezing him from even taking another breath.
"Do you have to go so soon?" she croons, voice lower now.
Tristran's face goes red, and really, he isn't used to this sort of treatment at all. Being congratulated, and given renown for his ability to remember stories, certainly, but this...this isn't -- he doesn't want to, anyway, and what would Yvaine say if she saw --
"We could always take a walk around for a bit," she continues, and Tristran swallows. With a swift movement, he takes her hand from his leg and places it back in her lap awkwardly.
"I'm flattered, really, but I -- I am quite tired." He stands before she can say or do anything, then hurriedly rushes into the crowd in an attempt to blend in and disappear from her view.
Entry tags:
[020] - OOM - A distressing lesson about hitchhiking
There are times when Tristran cannot help but wonder desperately how Yvaine can stand to live without food. Surely, eating the darkness isn't enough to fill a stomache? Surely, not, because he is hungry. Ravenous, really. And he finds himself hungry often, more often than he'd really like.
So, Tristran is hunting for breakfast. There isn't very much in the way of things-to-eat, but there are definitely no signs of any magical doors anywhere; unfortunately, he is left to his own devices. He finds some young puffball mushrooms and a plum tree covered with drying, pruning fruit -- barely eatable, really -- and gathers them into his arms. He is about to merrily go along to another tree up ahead for something he thinks might be apples when a brilliant bird catches his attention.
It is as large as a pheasant with bright and colourful feathers in shades of reds, yellows and blues, and looks very much out of place in the slightly drably coloured meadowland, all earthly and green and brown. Dropping the few wrinkled plums back to the ground, Tristran carefully tries to approach the bird, slowly stepping with one foot then the next. He isn't particularly sure why, but it starts up in fear, hopping awkwardly and crying sharply in distress when he draws near.
"I won't hurt you," he murmurs gently, dropping to one knee, quite close now to the beautiful bird. He reaches out, noticing a silver chain -- all twisted and tangled around a particularly stubborn root -- attached to the bird's foot, making it very difficult for it to move.
Carefully, and with the expertise only a boy who's worked with animals can provide, Tristran unwinds the silver chain -- the bird quite calm now -- unhooking it from the root. His left hand gently strokes the bird's colourful plumage and he murmurs, "There you go...you can go home, now."
It makes no move to leave him. In fact, it looks up, piercing eyes staring into his face as though it can read his thoughts. It makes him feel self conscious, but he clears his throat. "Look," he says, "someone will probably be worried about you."
He reaches down to pick the bird up but before he can even straighten to his knees, something hits him, forcing him off balance for a moment.
"Thief!" cries a cackled old voice, moving to hit him again. Tristran dodges out of the way this time. "I shall turn your bones to ice and roast you in front of a fire! I shall pluck your eyes out and tie one to a herring and t'other to a seagull, so the twin sights of sea and sky shall take you into madness! I shall make your tongue into a writhing worm and your fingers shall become razors and fire ants shall itch your skin, so each time you scratch yourself--"
"There is no need to belabour your point," Tristran says to the old woman. "I did not steal your bird. Its chain was snagged upon a root, and I had just freed it."
She stops, mouth still slightly open, glaring at him suspiciously from below a mop of disheveled (and slightly greasy) iron-grey hair. Then she scurries forward without another word, mouth clamped shut, and picks up the bird. Tristran watches her the entire time, watches as she holds it towards her whispers something, and straining his ears to hear what exactly she said, only makes out the musical chirp of the bird.
The old woman's eyes narrow back to him. "Well, perhaps what you say is not a complete pack of lies," she concedes very reluctantly.
"It's not a pack of lies at all," Tristran confirms, but the woman and her bird are already nearly halfway across the glade. They seem to have completely forgotten his existence.
With a slight sigh and a shrug, he bends down to pick up his mushrooms and the wrinkled plums, before making his way back to the spot where he'd left Yvaine.
So, Tristran is hunting for breakfast. There isn't very much in the way of things-to-eat, but there are definitely no signs of any magical doors anywhere; unfortunately, he is left to his own devices. He finds some young puffball mushrooms and a plum tree covered with drying, pruning fruit -- barely eatable, really -- and gathers them into his arms. He is about to merrily go along to another tree up ahead for something he thinks might be apples when a brilliant bird catches his attention.
It is as large as a pheasant with bright and colourful feathers in shades of reds, yellows and blues, and looks very much out of place in the slightly drably coloured meadowland, all earthly and green and brown. Dropping the few wrinkled plums back to the ground, Tristran carefully tries to approach the bird, slowly stepping with one foot then the next. He isn't particularly sure why, but it starts up in fear, hopping awkwardly and crying sharply in distress when he draws near.
"I won't hurt you," he murmurs gently, dropping to one knee, quite close now to the beautiful bird. He reaches out, noticing a silver chain -- all twisted and tangled around a particularly stubborn root -- attached to the bird's foot, making it very difficult for it to move.
Carefully, and with the expertise only a boy who's worked with animals can provide, Tristran unwinds the silver chain -- the bird quite calm now -- unhooking it from the root. His left hand gently strokes the bird's colourful plumage and he murmurs, "There you go...you can go home, now."
It makes no move to leave him. In fact, it looks up, piercing eyes staring into his face as though it can read his thoughts. It makes him feel self conscious, but he clears his throat. "Look," he says, "someone will probably be worried about you."
He reaches down to pick the bird up but before he can even straighten to his knees, something hits him, forcing him off balance for a moment.
"Thief!" cries a cackled old voice, moving to hit him again. Tristran dodges out of the way this time. "I shall turn your bones to ice and roast you in front of a fire! I shall pluck your eyes out and tie one to a herring and t'other to a seagull, so the twin sights of sea and sky shall take you into madness! I shall make your tongue into a writhing worm and your fingers shall become razors and fire ants shall itch your skin, so each time you scratch yourself--"
"There is no need to belabour your point," Tristran says to the old woman. "I did not steal your bird. Its chain was snagged upon a root, and I had just freed it."
She stops, mouth still slightly open, glaring at him suspiciously from below a mop of disheveled (and slightly greasy) iron-grey hair. Then she scurries forward without another word, mouth clamped shut, and picks up the bird. Tristran watches her the entire time, watches as she holds it towards her whispers something, and straining his ears to hear what exactly she said, only makes out the musical chirp of the bird.
The old woman's eyes narrow back to him. "Well, perhaps what you say is not a complete pack of lies," she concedes very reluctantly.
"It's not a pack of lies at all," Tristran confirms, but the woman and her bird are already nearly halfway across the glade. They seem to have completely forgotten his existence.
With a slight sigh and a shrug, he bends down to pick up his mushrooms and the wrinkled plums, before making his way back to the spot where he'd left Yvaine.
Entry tags:
[018] OOM - Fulkeston - Story-telling
[Accompanying Yvaine's OOM...]
"The quality of mercy is not strain'd,
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest..."
It would be a lie to say that he doesn't enjoy the attention -- even if he is only enjoying it a little bit (really). Telling stories and being admired and applauded for them really makes him feel worthy; and in a village that looks and feels so much like Wall, it almost makes up for all the times he'd been teased, mocked and scorned for telling them (not to mention being different). Tristran can't help but grin, encouraged to drum up another eloquent tale from his memory, something that will really impress the crowd.
"Oh, do go on, Master Tristran," one of the girls encourages, her words quick and full of excitement.
"Oh, yes," another one adds. "You have a magnificent speaking voice, do you know?"
"You do!"
There is a series of giggles and flushed faces beaming up at him. Tristran laughs sheepishly in response, face unintentionally growing warm as he tries to think of where he last left off.
"It blesseth him that gives and him that takes:
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes
The throned monarch better than his crown..."
And he tells his stories (the ones he remembers) as best as he can, until his voice grows hoarse and his eyes begin to drop and he loses strength in his entire body from the exhaustion. The villagers take good care of him (and his "lady-friend" as they called the star) as far as he's concerned, providing them with food and shelter and all the other necessities in between.
"...Though justice be thy plea, consider this,
That, in the course of justice, none of us
Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy;
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render
The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much
To mitigate the justice of thy plea;
Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice
Must needs give sentence 'gainst the merchant there."
There is a loud range of applause from the townspeople when he finishes. It's like that every time he finishes. And each time, he looks up, searching for the star, but oftentimes being preoccupied a split second later by someone urging him to start a new tale, or a new rhyme, and he's so caught up in the moment of it all, that he finds it hard to refuse.
It goes on like this for several days.
"The quality of mercy is not strain'd,
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest..."
It would be a lie to say that he doesn't enjoy the attention -- even if he is only enjoying it a little bit (really). Telling stories and being admired and applauded for them really makes him feel worthy; and in a village that looks and feels so much like Wall, it almost makes up for all the times he'd been teased, mocked and scorned for telling them (not to mention being different). Tristran can't help but grin, encouraged to drum up another eloquent tale from his memory, something that will really impress the crowd.
"Oh, do go on, Master Tristran," one of the girls encourages, her words quick and full of excitement.
"Oh, yes," another one adds. "You have a magnificent speaking voice, do you know?"
"You do!"
There is a series of giggles and flushed faces beaming up at him. Tristran laughs sheepishly in response, face unintentionally growing warm as he tries to think of where he last left off.
"It blesseth him that gives and him that takes:
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes
The throned monarch better than his crown..."
And he tells his stories (the ones he remembers) as best as he can, until his voice grows hoarse and his eyes begin to drop and he loses strength in his entire body from the exhaustion. The villagers take good care of him (and his "lady-friend" as they called the star) as far as he's concerned, providing them with food and shelter and all the other necessities in between.
"...Though justice be thy plea, consider this,
That, in the course of justice, none of us
Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy;
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render
The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much
To mitigate the justice of thy plea;
Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice
Must needs give sentence 'gainst the merchant there."
There is a loud range of applause from the townspeople when he finishes. It's like that every time he finishes. And each time, he looks up, searching for the star, but oftentimes being preoccupied a split second later by someone urging him to start a new tale, or a new rhyme, and he's so caught up in the moment of it all, that he finds it hard to refuse.
It goes on like this for several days.
[017] - OOM - In Berinhed's Forest (Adventure II)
In Berinhed's Forest Tristran outfaced on of the great, tawny eagles, who would have carried them both back to its nest to feed its young and was afraid of nothing at all, save fire.
The star asks him where they are going, where they were. This is the only way Tristran will really know the names of places -- if someone asks him directly. He has no idea how he knows, but he knows.
"Up ahead is a forest," he answers her, "Berinhed's. We are on the path leading directly towards it; you can already see the trees."
He readjusts his shoulder-bag, getting lighter and lighter as the days pass by, and shrugs. "Unfortunately, I am running out of provisions. I do hope that there is a village somewhere on the other side of the forest."
Stardust, p.168 (Graphic Novel)
The star asks him where they are going, where they were. This is the only way Tristran will really know the names of places -- if someone asks him directly. He has no idea how he knows, but he knows.
"Up ahead is a forest," he answers her, "Berinhed's. We are on the path leading directly towards it; you can already see the trees."
He readjusts his shoulder-bag, getting lighter and lighter as the days pass by, and shrugs. "Unfortunately, I am running out of provisions. I do hope that there is a village somewhere on the other side of the forest."
Entry tags:
[016] OOM - At the Port, Leaving Perdita
"You'll be closer to Wall," the Captain starts, puffing on his pipe. His clothes are covered in a fine layer of ash (and when he isn't smoking it, he is chewing at the stem, or excavating the bowl with a sharp metal instrument, or simply tamping in new tobacco). "Still a good ten-week journey, though. Maybe more. But Meggot's got your friend's leg up to snuff. It's already been taking her weight again quite well. Her impeccable dancing proved such."
The two of them, Tristran and the captain, sit together, side by side.
"Your hand's better?"
"A lot," Tristran says, "thank you." Even though it still looks far-from-perfect, he doesn't feel as much pain as he used to. Meggot's salve had really done wonders for it, taking the pain and speeding the healing process significantly.
"You know, it wasn't entirely fortune that we found you," the captain says, voice low. "Well, it was fortune that we found you, but it'd also be true to say that I was keeping half an eye out for you. I, and a few others about the place."
Tristran frowns. "Why? ... And how did you know about me?"
With his finger, the captain begins to sketch a shape in the condensation against the polished wood.
"It looks like a castle," the boy says.
The captain winks. "Not a word to say too loudly," he says, "even up here. Think of it as a fellowship."
Tristran stares. "...You wouldn't happen to know a little hairy man with a hat and an enormous pack of goods, would you?"
The captain taps his pipe against the side of the ship. Quickly he wipes the image from the wood. "Aye, and he's not the only member of the fellowship with an interest in your return to Wall, you know. Which reminds me, you should tell the young lady that if she fancies trying to pass for other than what she is, she ought to fake a bigger appetite from time to time. Tobias has taught her well, but she's a stubborn one."
Tristran smirks, but there's something else... "I never mentioned Wall in your presence," he says in realization. "When you asked where I came from, I said 'Behind us'."
The captain merely smiles with that knowing sort of look he's become quite accustomed to over the past two weeks. "Exactly," he says. "That's m'boy."
"Capt'n," one of the crew-mates approaches them.
Alberic looks up, pipe still in his mouth. "Hmm?"
"We're about ready to land, capt'n."
"Aye."
As the crew-mate returns to his post, Alberic stretches. "Well, this is it, lad," he says, helping Tristran up. He puts a hand on his shoulder in a way that reminds Tristran of his father. "You ought to go find that star of yours, hmm?"
"A-aye," Tristran says.
The two of them, Tristran and the captain, sit together, side by side.
"Your hand's better?"
"A lot," Tristran says, "thank you." Even though it still looks far-from-perfect, he doesn't feel as much pain as he used to. Meggot's salve had really done wonders for it, taking the pain and speeding the healing process significantly.
"You know, it wasn't entirely fortune that we found you," the captain says, voice low. "Well, it was fortune that we found you, but it'd also be true to say that I was keeping half an eye out for you. I, and a few others about the place."
Tristran frowns. "Why? ... And how did you know about me?"
With his finger, the captain begins to sketch a shape in the condensation against the polished wood.
"It looks like a castle," the boy says.
The captain winks. "Not a word to say too loudly," he says, "even up here. Think of it as a fellowship."
Tristran stares. "...You wouldn't happen to know a little hairy man with a hat and an enormous pack of goods, would you?"
The captain taps his pipe against the side of the ship. Quickly he wipes the image from the wood. "Aye, and he's not the only member of the fellowship with an interest in your return to Wall, you know. Which reminds me, you should tell the young lady that if she fancies trying to pass for other than what she is, she ought to fake a bigger appetite from time to time. Tobias has taught her well, but she's a stubborn one."
Tristran smirks, but there's something else... "I never mentioned Wall in your presence," he says in realization. "When you asked where I came from, I said 'Behind us'."
The captain merely smiles with that knowing sort of look he's become quite accustomed to over the past two weeks. "Exactly," he says. "That's m'boy."
"Capt'n," one of the crew-mates approaches them.
Alberic looks up, pipe still in his mouth. "Hmm?"
"We're about ready to land, capt'n."
"Aye."
As the crew-mate returns to his post, Alberic stretches. "Well, this is it, lad," he says, helping Tristran up. He puts a hand on his shoulder in a way that reminds Tristran of his father. "You ought to go find that star of yours, hmm?"
"A-aye," Tristran says.
Entry tags:
[015] OOM - Finding Port, Last Night on Perdita
Life on the Perdita, Tristran finds, is very different from anything he's ever experienced in his life. For one, they are above the ground, many miles up, where the only thing they see is cloud. This is nothing like his stable-life in Wall, where everything is very much grounded -- literally.
The folk aboard the Perdita is also another thing. Every last one of Alberic's crew has their own unique quality or quirk. He's never met a bunch of men (and woman: Meggot) more colourful than them. Each one of them has a story to tell and throughout the two weeks of their journey with them, he's learned a lot -- about things he never could have imagined, about places he's never even dreamed of, and people he could never hope to meet.
Wall, Tristran decides, is a very closed, rather self-indulgent little place in comparison (not to say he doesn't love his home). Even with the likes of the fair as some pathetic attempt at being open-minded, it couldn't even begin to scratch the surface of the worlds upon worlds surrounding it.
In any case, Tristran has been enjoying his time on the pirate ship, but as a fortnight quickly passes (bar-time included), he expects this part of the journey is about to come to a close.
That evening during dinner, Alberic announces to his crew and the couple, that in less than twelve hours, they should be near a harbour tree -- a convenient enough landing port for Tristran and Yvaine to get off and continue their travels on foot back to Wall.
"We'll be needin' to replenish our supplies," Alberic booms, swishing his glass of wine around. "So we can let you off at the same time."
"Thank you," Tristran responds, politely. "We are very grateful for all you've done for us."
"Not to worry m'boy." Alberic grins. "You've but one thing to promise me though."
"What's that?"
"Keep practicin' with that sword of yours. You've a lot to learn yet, but you'll do fine."
The folk aboard the Perdita is also another thing. Every last one of Alberic's crew has their own unique quality or quirk. He's never met a bunch of men (and woman: Meggot) more colourful than them. Each one of them has a story to tell and throughout the two weeks of their journey with them, he's learned a lot -- about things he never could have imagined, about places he's never even dreamed of, and people he could never hope to meet.
Wall, Tristran decides, is a very closed, rather self-indulgent little place in comparison (not to say he doesn't love his home). Even with the likes of the fair as some pathetic attempt at being open-minded, it couldn't even begin to scratch the surface of the worlds upon worlds surrounding it.
In any case, Tristran has been enjoying his time on the pirate ship, but as a fortnight quickly passes (bar-time included), he expects this part of the journey is about to come to a close.
That evening during dinner, Alberic announces to his crew and the couple, that in less than twelve hours, they should be near a harbour tree -- a convenient enough landing port for Tristran and Yvaine to get off and continue their travels on foot back to Wall.
"We'll be needin' to replenish our supplies," Alberic booms, swishing his glass of wine around. "So we can let you off at the same time."
"Thank you," Tristran responds, politely. "We are very grateful for all you've done for us."
"Not to worry m'boy." Alberic grins. "You've but one thing to promise me though."
"What's that?"
"Keep practicin' with that sword of yours. You've a lot to learn yet, but you'll do fine."
Entry tags:
[014] OOM - Aboard the Free Ship, Perdita
Tristran finds himself thinking of everything at the top of the spire of cloud he sits upon. There is a sense of perspective, sitting here. Everything is so simple, so...straight-forward, so...small from up here.
His stomach growls and he can't help but think that while adventures are well and good, there is certainly a lot to be said for regular meals and freedom from pain, like the pain he feels right now. He wishes he had his rucksack, or somehow they could open some mysterious door to Milliways again, if only so he could get something to eat. He doesn't need anything elaborate. He'll even take a plain loaf of bread. His hand throbs with heat and pain, and he wishes there were something he could do to stop it, but it's useless, no matter what he thinks.
Still, he is grateful to be alive with the wind in his hair and the fantastic view spread out before him, so wide he could never fully take it all in. The sky is so blue, so different from the way he might have viewed it from earth, and everything felt different to him from all the way up here. There is a sense of nowness.
Most of all, it is terribly quiet in a peaceful sort of way and it makes him want to ... disturb it. Just because. Standing upon the cloud spire, he calls out, "Halloo!" several times, belting it out as loudly as he can. It feels strangely exhilerating.
He wants to laugh. He wants to feel that pulse of adrenaline run through him and act like a fool. And when he does, he feels ... free. It's a nice sort of feeling, even if he does it by himself (not that he isn't used to doing things by himself, as that was what his childhood mostly consisted of). As he clambers down the length of the spire to return to the 'ground', his footing slips and he falls at least ten feet, landing shortly after into the misty softness of the cloud.
And then he laughs quietly to himself.
His stomach growls and he can't help but think that while adventures are well and good, there is certainly a lot to be said for regular meals and freedom from pain, like the pain he feels right now. He wishes he had his rucksack, or somehow they could open some mysterious door to Milliways again, if only so he could get something to eat. He doesn't need anything elaborate. He'll even take a plain loaf of bread. His hand throbs with heat and pain, and he wishes there were something he could do to stop it, but it's useless, no matter what he thinks.
Still, he is grateful to be alive with the wind in his hair and the fantastic view spread out before him, so wide he could never fully take it all in. The sky is so blue, so different from the way he might have viewed it from earth, and everything felt different to him from all the way up here. There is a sense of nowness.
Most of all, it is terribly quiet in a peaceful sort of way and it makes him want to ... disturb it. Just because. Standing upon the cloud spire, he calls out, "Halloo!" several times, belting it out as loudly as he can. It feels strangely exhilerating.
He wants to laugh. He wants to feel that pulse of adrenaline run through him and act like a fool. And when he does, he feels ... free. It's a nice sort of feeling, even if he does it by himself (not that he isn't used to doing things by himself, as that was what his childhood mostly consisted of). As he clambers down the length of the spire to return to the 'ground', his footing slips and he falls at least ten feet, landing shortly after into the misty softness of the cloud.
And then he laughs quietly to himself.
[013] OOM - Towards the Light of the Inn
Seeing the illumination from the inn fills Tristran with a feeling of happiness and wonderfulness he hasn't felt in a really long while -- not since he'd left Wall so many days ago, and perhaps even the coziness of Milliways, all distant memories now.
The carriage pulls up to the little cottage-like building, and while Tristran immediately begins to unhitch the horses (which he knows must be absolutely exhausted), leading them one by one towards the stables located on the side of the inn, Primus bellows for assistance.
There is a white horse, asleep in the furthest stall, but Tristran is far too busy with other things to pause and inspect it -- the horses are obviously tired and hungry. Even moreso than he is. Anything else can wait.
"I'll groom the horses," he tells Primus. "They'll catch a chill otherwise."
The tall man rests one large hand on Tristran's shoulder, a quiet and subtle smile reaching his face. "Good lad," he says, "I'll send a potboy out with some burnt ale for you."
Tristran nods before Primus disappears, no doubt to organize the details of their lodging, thinking distantly of the star as he brushes down the horses and picks out their hooves. Somehow, in the same strange way he seems to know directions and distances of things he had never seen before in his life, he knows that the star is close by -- he'll see her soon. The thought alone is a conflicting one, bringing both comfort and a sense of nervousness (though he isn't sure why). Once they are reunited, what will he say? What will she say?
His thought is interrupted by the silent entrance of a potgirl, carrying a tankard of steaming wine. "Put it down over there," he tells her. "I'll drink it with goodwill as soon as my hands are free."
The girl obeys, placing it upon the top of a tack box before leaving just as silently. Tristran doesn't have a chance to ponder the girl's silence before the horse in the end stall begins to kick against the door, nearly making the young man jump in his spot.
"Settle down, there," he calls. "Settle down, fellow, and I'll see if I cannot find warm oats and bran for all of you."
Tristran finds a large stone in the stallion's front inside hoof, and with care, he begins to remove it, his thoughts straying back to the star.
Madam -- this is how he thinks he might very well start off their conversation -- please accept my heartfelt and most humble apologies.
Yes ... it sounds polite. Proper. And of course, she would respond with something like, Sir, that I shall do with all my heart. Now let us go to your village, where you shall present me to your true love, as a token of your devotion to her --
There is more clattering -- louder and more powerful this time -- from the end stall with the white horse. Except, Tristran realizes quite immediately, that it is not a horse at all but a ... monster! Or some great beast coming to charge after him, horn lowered. Instinctively, Tristran throws himself down into the straw by the floor, covering his head with his arms, waiting in frozen patience for a moment before slowly looking up. The monster is no monster at all, and is in fact a unicorn.
Tristran watches, slowly getting to his feet, as the unicorn stops before the tankard and lowers its horn into the mulled wine, still steaming and bubbling. And it occurs to him then as he studies the white beast (from some long-forgotten fairytale or a piece of children's lore) that a unicorn's horn is proof against...
"Poison?" he whispers, eyes widening a bit. His heart is pounding in his chest as the unicorn raises its head, looking into his eyes, even through him. No, it...can't be.
Tristran runs towards the stable door, then freezing in his tracks, he pauses for a moment. He fumbles quickly in his pocket, looking for something in particular. From his right pocket, he pulls out the lump of wax (which is all that remains of the rather sad, pathetic candle) and the dried copper leaf which sticks to it. Peeling it from the wax carefully, he takes in a breath, and raises it to his ear.
The carriage pulls up to the little cottage-like building, and while Tristran immediately begins to unhitch the horses (which he knows must be absolutely exhausted), leading them one by one towards the stables located on the side of the inn, Primus bellows for assistance.
There is a white horse, asleep in the furthest stall, but Tristran is far too busy with other things to pause and inspect it -- the horses are obviously tired and hungry. Even moreso than he is. Anything else can wait.
"I'll groom the horses," he tells Primus. "They'll catch a chill otherwise."
The tall man rests one large hand on Tristran's shoulder, a quiet and subtle smile reaching his face. "Good lad," he says, "I'll send a potboy out with some burnt ale for you."
Tristran nods before Primus disappears, no doubt to organize the details of their lodging, thinking distantly of the star as he brushes down the horses and picks out their hooves. Somehow, in the same strange way he seems to know directions and distances of things he had never seen before in his life, he knows that the star is close by -- he'll see her soon. The thought alone is a conflicting one, bringing both comfort and a sense of nervousness (though he isn't sure why). Once they are reunited, what will he say? What will she say?
His thought is interrupted by the silent entrance of a potgirl, carrying a tankard of steaming wine. "Put it down over there," he tells her. "I'll drink it with goodwill as soon as my hands are free."
The girl obeys, placing it upon the top of a tack box before leaving just as silently. Tristran doesn't have a chance to ponder the girl's silence before the horse in the end stall begins to kick against the door, nearly making the young man jump in his spot.
"Settle down, there," he calls. "Settle down, fellow, and I'll see if I cannot find warm oats and bran for all of you."
Tristran finds a large stone in the stallion's front inside hoof, and with care, he begins to remove it, his thoughts straying back to the star.
Madam -- this is how he thinks he might very well start off their conversation -- please accept my heartfelt and most humble apologies.
Yes ... it sounds polite. Proper. And of course, she would respond with something like, Sir, that I shall do with all my heart. Now let us go to your village, where you shall present me to your true love, as a token of your devotion to her --
There is more clattering -- louder and more powerful this time -- from the end stall with the white horse. Except, Tristran realizes quite immediately, that it is not a horse at all but a ... monster! Or some great beast coming to charge after him, horn lowered. Instinctively, Tristran throws himself down into the straw by the floor, covering his head with his arms, waiting in frozen patience for a moment before slowly looking up. The monster is no monster at all, and is in fact a unicorn.
Tristran watches, slowly getting to his feet, as the unicorn stops before the tankard and lowers its horn into the mulled wine, still steaming and bubbling. And it occurs to him then as he studies the white beast (from some long-forgotten fairytale or a piece of children's lore) that a unicorn's horn is proof against...
"Poison?" he whispers, eyes widening a bit. His heart is pounding in his chest as the unicorn raises its head, looking into his eyes, even through him. No, it...can't be.
Tristran runs towards the stable door, then freezing in his tracks, he pauses for a moment. He fumbles quickly in his pocket, looking for something in particular. From his right pocket, he pulls out the lump of wax (which is all that remains of the rather sad, pathetic candle) and the dried copper leaf which sticks to it. Peeling it from the wax carefully, he takes in a breath, and raises it to his ear.