|  Author | Topic: Skylight City (Read 794 times) |
clumsyminkytink
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Karma: 5 |  | Skylight City
« Thread Started on Mar 10, 2007, 8:22pm » | |
The wind off the Skylight plateau was more powerful than usual today, a thick buffeting scream from the open mesa. Dust was in the air and dislodged plant matter raced across the ground wherever the wind had room to race through the wide-open crowd of dusty stone buildings that was Skylight City.
It was, however, far from too windy for one of the city's famed windships to launch. The pilots and crews of nearly a thousand windships of every shape and size scrambled across the Posts today, the wind buffeting their clothing this way and that as they worked steadily with the ground crews to get their passengers and cargo into the air. The Posts took the place of a harbor on the city's outskirts, a forest of massive wooden and stone pillars equipped with pulley systems and mechanical elevators that facilitated the movement of goods and people from the tops of the pillars to the bottoms and back again. As many as a dozen windships could dock at each pillar, depending on the size, and with the pillars towering overhead, one could easily fall under the illusion that thu'd shrunk and was wandering through somebody's massively expanded front lawn.
Most of the windships in the air were heading out to or coming in from the south. A decent portion, though, were headed east, out towards the dark spot at the edge of the tan plateau that was the beginning of the Michili Moors. Three were climbing towards the north, on their way to the Groundy Caves to pick up shipments of fur, minerals and foodstuffs from Skylight City's perennial rival. A single windship was returning from that direction, its wings skimming the high winds with great skill as it skipped from draft to draft rather like an insect on the surface of a rushing river.
The windship's hull was painted a faded warm yellow, and the crews manning the Post tops could only see a single figure manning the ship's deck. "Ready the Daffodil's Post!" came the call, and crewmen scrambled to obey the order. By the time the yellow craft came in to land lightly on the narrow platform that clung halfway up the side of a Post close to the edge of the area--a position of some nobility--there were men standing by with ropes to secure it against the winds that continued to buffet it. Painted in spiky lettering on the hull of the craft was the designation Granite Daffodil.
Within half an hour, the craft was snug and tight, the cargo unloaded and stored in a reserved warehouse at the edge of the Posts. The pilot of the Granite Daffodil, having seen her journey to its completion, strode decisively away from the posts, her scarf caught in the wind and snapping out behind her as she walked. Her knee-high leather boots were worn and dusty from the trip, but her steps were filled with energy.
Her tall and muscular figure was clothed in a grey jumpsuit belted tightly around the waist by a utility strap that supported several pouches of useful items. Her hands, swinging widely and powerfully at her sides, sported fine leather gloves, and a pair of aviator's goggles rested on her ample bosom from where they hung on a strap around her neck. Her nose was prominent and hooked, a beak fitting of the way she seemed to look down it at the world, and her hair had been hacked off and stuffed under a tight leather cap whose chinstraps hung unbuckled across the folds of her scarf. Her brows were thick and bushy, and she didn't need lipstick for her full lips to properly advertise the proud scowl she wore.
She headed straight for the nearest tavern, which was quite close to the Posts due to the windshipmen's penchant for good food, better beer, and loud company. Inside, the large and cheerful building was packed with customers and filled with noise. An empty table was found for the pilot immediately, and though she said absolutely nothing to anyone around her, she managed to seem loud as she downed several shots of vodka, one after another, without breaking a sweat.
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Caius Caligula
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« Reply #1 on Mar 21, 2007, 2:48am » | |
The curly-haired man at the bar was wearing what appeared to be a very disheveled suit, and his image was emphasized by the unknotted tie. Adam, the proprietor of the eponymous bar and one of two reasons for his infamy, was off-duty, and technically he was supposed to have the bar closed during his lunch hour, but he could give two shits and a libretto, all things considered. In general, his eyes were the only sharp, bright things around him, and that included the long metal shillelagh he kept under the bar. The stubble on his face and his rough hands gave people the impression that he wasn't at all well-spoken, or even intelligent. He liked screwing with people that way. He grinned at her and continued to serve drink.. "Cute. But even with your highly-alluring tolerance for alcohol, you're still no match for a man with his veins full of Peau Verte." He laughed. "For such an austere and spartan person, there's something I've always found...interesting about you, aside from the fact that you're easily my best customer."
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Doodad
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« Reply #2 on Mar 24, 2007, 10:00pm » | |
As hundreds of windships, people, and crates of cargo came and left Skylight each day, there were very few people who witnessed every detail of every day. The thin girl, holding a pencil and pile of papers, however, was one of them. She sat quietly, in her usual spot by the Posts, out of the way of anyone important but close enough to see the details of the ships and the people. She usually had uneventful, repetitive days, but today the persistant wind had different plans for her. As the girls eyes flicked across the scene in front of her, the pencil in her hand flew widly across each sheet of paper, capturing glimpses of the movement that made Skylight such an amazing place to live. Pausing for a minute to review her drawings, the girl looked down at her paper, examining her sketch of the newly arrived ship, trying to decide whether or not the mast was crooked. The wind was really whipping today, plucking at the edges of the girls papers and playing with the strands of her short, red hair. Without considering the wind, she reached up to push a strand of hair from her face, and it was at that moment that the wind speed picked up considerably.
"OH!" The girl cried, as the gusting wind picked the papers from her lap and blew them across the street and all around her. Cursing quietly to herself, the girl jumped from her seat and hurried to collect her papers. She did not want to lose any of her drawings. As she picked up the last few pieces of paper, she shook her head and sighed. Letting the wind carry her thoughts as well, the girl absentmindedly grabbed the last sheet of paper, and was rewarded with a deep paper cut on her thumb.
Today really is NOT my lucky day, she thought. She hoped her luck would come soon.
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clumsyminkytink
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Caius Caligula
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« Reply #4 on Mar 26, 2007, 6:10pm » | |
"And you'd do well to remember who it is who doesn't cut you off and hasn't ever kicked you out, miss." Adam's eyes and voice turned hard. Then, they immediately softened. "I've never used you as a practicing block, and still never condescended to you. Flirting, as far as I can remember, has been something initiated by you being drunk and acting flirtatious with me."
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"Voles? Voles are a many-splendored thing, voles lift us up where we belong, all you need is voles!"
--original line in Moulin Rouge, before the producers went through the script. |
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clumsyminkytink
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Karma: 5 | | Re: Skylight City
« Reply #5 on Apr 4, 2007, 2:32pm » | |
"Liar," the woman cried, leaping from her chair. Instantly, the bar quieted. "How dare you? How dare you lie in such a fashion? Assume nothing, cretin. Your vodka is hardly good enough to keep me here if I must suffer through your insults!" Her pointing finger was a sign of doom, her dark eyes flinty and her nose and chin proudly jutting forward. "Apologize instantly."
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1/8/07: Gave the Geocities site a minor update.
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Doodad
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« Reply #6 on Apr 4, 2007, 4:04pm » | |
After collecting all her papers, the girl looked up to find herself standing in front of a bar she had not noticed before. Being unfortunatly too young to go to a bar, and too afraid of getting caught if she tried, the girl decided to sit on a small bench against it's wall. She smoothed her papers on her lap and continued to sketch, loving the new perspective her new seat had given her.
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Caius Caligula
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« Reply #7 on Apr 4, 2007, 4:44pm » | |
"You have," Adam sighed, examining his knuckles, "A nosebleed. It's a slight trickle at the moment. I suggest you sit down now and calm yourself before it gets worse. And yes, I'm sorry for telling you about that little incident." He wasn't the picture of doom the same way she was, but everyone knew the unwritten law of Adam's-- you did not-- not try anything with the propreitor, particularly if you were going to insult him and challenge his honesty. No one knew exactly what happened, but everyone knew not to. He prided himself on being a gentleman, after all, and gentlemen were honest.
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"Voles? Voles are a many-splendored thing, voles lift us up where we belong, all you need is voles!"
--original line in Moulin Rouge, before the producers went through the script. |
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clumsyminkytink
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GENIUS.
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Karma: 5 | | Re: Skylight City
« Reply #8 on May 25, 2007, 2:49am » | |
The proud woman snarled something unintelligible and, true to her promise, stalked right back out of the tavern just as loudly and suddenly as she had come.
Her jaw was set and her brows furrowed as she left. If she could find no peace in the taverns, she would, as tended to be more often than not, find it on her ship. As she walked rather too quickly around the corner of the building, she ran knees-first into a bench against its side wall. "My apologies," she snarled automatically, then took a moment to see whom she'd disturbed: a young girl, sketching the Posts. "You," she informed the child, "are far too young to be hanging around this... this establishment." She spat the word establishment out with a fury akin to what one uses against a particularly rancid mouthful of food that was promised to be sublime by the one who supplied it.
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5/21/07: IT LIVES
http://moonwillow.comicgenesis.com
1/8/07: Gave the Geocities site a minor update.
http://www.geocities.com/aryn_of_kalivey/willowindex.html |
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