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urskekyagvi · 3 years

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MalVa Week: Campsite

@malvaweek

A hunter trudged into the clearing, bearing his latest kill upon his back. Blood stained the grass behind him, making a grisly trail through the forest. The arduff's corpse hung across his shoulder, a once majestic and imposing predator now someone else's prey; but that was the way of things.

SkekMal was all too aware of the way of things. Life and death were a never ending cycle, like an abiranariba serpent eating itself. Even he knew the sacred geometry; even a hunter had to know the signs. He swore under his breath as his knees buckled. A stumble, but at the end of it neither he nor the kill were on the ground.

He hadn't taken this beast's life without cost. He had miraculously remained unscathed, but the weeks of tracking, setting snares, and the final confrontation had left him exhausted. Only the scent of smoke kept the very last reserves of strength he had left fueled; smoke meant fire. Fire- usually- meant campsite, and campsite meant safety and rest. He paid no mind to the thought that there might already be someone there: gelfling and podling were easy enough to dispose of.

But now his only thought was rest. He dragged himself and his kill through the woods until the orange light of a flame was visible past the treeline. Finally he was close enough to feel the heat upon his skin, and there he deposited his prey and collapsed. Still, even in the midst of exhaustion he didn't abandon wariness.

He left one eye open, examining the space he had found himself in. From his position, he could see where the land sloped downward towards a stream, and near the fire there was a pile of leaves and branches and a large quilt, big enough for him to crawl under and curl up. He took a few deep breaths and rose to his feet, sniffing the air for any unusual scents.

No gelfling. No podling. Nothing but the smell of the forest, nearly drowned by the scent of blood he had tainted this peaceful place with. He was reminded of his kill, and rose fully to take care of it. It didn't take long; his knives had been properly sharpened before the hunt, and in short order he had his trophies and something to roast over the fire.

He laid the skin out to dry and finally sat down on a stone near the flames. It was only natural skeksis paranoia and instinct that kept his eyes open now, though he hadn't smelt or heard a thing for hours. The endless symphony of insects and various birds rang in his ears; a good sign, really, but now his mind didn't trust it; No one just abandoned a campsite like this, not without reason.

He rolled his shoulders, feeling the stiff ache of action impeding his movement. Dried blood coated his armor and clothes, and really, a bath in that stream would be a welcome luxury. The only question remained: could he afford it?

He looked once again, poking around for anything at all that may betray the slightest sign of life or deception; nothing greeted him back. No traps, no leftover marks or traces of the former occupant of the site. He was alone. His searching had proven this as fact, but his mind would not let him rest.

And yet, while the danger was not immediate, he could allow himself some relaxation...and the stream was a rather tempting sight. Its cool waters cleansed his body and mind and soothed his parched throat. He cleaned his armor and clothes, and when he had gotten back the meat was ready to be eaten.

He didn't bother thanking the creature for the life it had lost, for it had not given it willingly; such a tradition was a soppy gelfling notion, something they did to convince their guilt-ridden minds that the supposed soul of the creature would return to its creator. SkekMal knew better. The beast had no soul. It hunted to keep itself alive, itself prey to death.

SkekMal hunted for a similar reason, and in that similarity there was a respect. He bit into the meat with a ravenous appetite, feeling the arduff's life become part of his own. Nothing would be wasted. Its flesh and organs he could eat, its bones would be made into trophies, its skin would hang upon his wall, a tapestry to commemorate his victory.

By the time he had eaten his fill for the evening the stars had come out. The Sisters shown their light down upon him, and the shadows from the fire flickered in a mesmerizing sway across the trees. Exhaustion weighed down upon him like a beast on his shoulders, digging its venomous claws into his eyes and making his movements sluggish and slow. The sleeping pile, with its soft quilt, looked more tempting by the moment…

He was obliged to lay upon it. It would have been a waste not to, and he despised waste. It was just as soft as it looked from a distance, easy upon his aching muscles yet supportive enough to spare his bones. His body sank into it, and the quilt kept him comfortably warm as he gazed up at the stars.

Worry did not stalk the corners of his mind any longer. Whoever had left the campsite here, clearly it had been intended to be his, by fate or accident he no longer cared. His eyes closed in a way they had not in a very, very long time, heavy instead of flitting open at the very first sound. Sleep took the night watch.

When he awoke the next morning, upon the first light of dawn, he felt rested. His bones didn't ache, and his mind was sharper than ever without paranoia or weariness making it so, and when he stretched his muscles were only mildly sore. It was a delightfully brisk morning all around him.

He rose to a sitting position, prepping for another full body stretch, when his tail curled against something. It was wooden, but much too straight to be a stick. Suspicion bit into his senses. He grasped the thing tightly in his hand and snatched it from under the covers.

It was an arrow, beautifully decorated, better as a trinket than a weapon or tool. It was lightweight, the shaft made of a white nut wood carved in thin leaf-like shapes and gilded vines; the fletching at its end could only be from the tail feathers of a rare albino shrookill; but the true beauty of it laid in the point, a sun-bleached bone.

SkekMal glared at the beautiful thing and then at the clearing around him. There was even something cooking on the fire already. Someone had been here- in fact, had always been here. Someone had laid this out for him...someone was trying to catch him.

And he knew who.

"Come on out, Archer!" He snapped at the trees, "Reveal yourself! I've seen through your little ruse."

A shrub rustled much too close nearby. He would have jumped, but barely managed to restrain himself in order to save face; he couldn't let anyone know he had let himself be deceived so easily...Though by the almost self-satisfied look on UrVa's face, it was a futile endeavor.

"It is no ruse," the Archer said calmly, giving his Other a small bow, "I thought you could use the rest."

SkekMal clutched the trinket he held even tighter, until his knuckles were almost as white as the shaft. He fumed in silence, his teeth grinding together in agitation. How dare he. The sheer audacity this other half of him had, so unlike the complacent sobriety of the rest of the urru; SkekMal found it annoying to no end...and yet he couldn't help but appreciate the gesture.

The anger faded quickly, having never been genuine to begin with. In truth, all he felt at that moment was gratitude. He ceded some of the tension in the grip he had around the arrow, holding it up gingerly to examine it in the light of the rising suns.

"...Indeed I could," he said, "that arduff did not come down easily...These feathers, where did you get them from?"

UrVa smiled and beckoned for SkekMal to follow him towards the campfire. The arduff meat was reheated to a perfect temperature, the outside skin crispy but not burnt. SkekMal cut himself a large hunk off the rear thigh and then laid another piece of it before his Other. UrVa paused to look at it, and it was SkekMal's turn to be smug.

"Don't deceive yourself, Archer," he said, tearing a bite out of his own portion, "the Master isn't here. I saw the way you were eyin' it."

UrVa did eat after that, but said a short prayer first, nonetheless. He took a small bite out of what SkekMal had given, pausing again to savor the taste with another sort of reverence. SkekMal let him, though he had not helped to bring down the kill.

"...An albino shrookill," UrVa said after his slow chewing had finally ceased.

"And where did you find an albino shrookill?" SkekMal couldn't hide his fascination. He had only heard the faintest rumors of such a thing existing, but had never seen it for himself.

"Where shrookills can often be found," was UrVa's blunt response before he took another bite of his meal.

SkekMal knew what he really meant, but on account of the good mood he was in he let it pass without so much as a growl. This meat was delicious.

"What of the bone?"

Here there was a longer pause than usual between chewing and speaking, and for the sake of the answer SkekMal allowed it, too. When UrVa spoke again, his voice held a hint of something almost playful.

"A piece of something you had lost and forgotten long ago," he said, and took another bite.

SkekMal had to scour his brain for the answer to the riddle, another act of solecism he allowed only because of a well rested body and full belly. Something he had lost long ago…He studied the piece of bone, hoping a moment of scrutiny would unveil the answer. Lost and forgotten long ago…

He turned it over in the light, and that was when he noticed a familiar tooth mark, and then the shape revealed itself to him. He fitted the little arrow head in his hand on a mental overlay of an animal skull, and came to realize that this would have been at the apex of the sagittal crest. The memory inundated his head like the wash of a tidal wave.

"My first kill!" The Hunter laughed and slapped his knee. "I never did get to keep the trophy. The others tore it apart so thoroughly I thought even the crawlies would have a hard time finding all the bits!"

UrVa nodded. "I myself almost reached the limit of my patience trying to find that one shard."

SkekMal snorted, without malice. "You? I thought there was no limit to your patience."

UrVa gave him a look that was as close to arch as a mystic could get. SkekMal vowed to get a better reaction out of him later. There would be plenty of time, if this one interaction went well. It was like hunting in a way: stalk your prey, set your snares, wait, and then pounce.

But it never ended between them, this eternal game of chase and capture, Hunter and Archer; and SkekMal would never admit that he enjoyed that prospect most of all.

#malvaweek2021 #skekmal #urva #fanfic #the dark crystal #I did my best

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candythemew · 4 years

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There he stood. Looming over the makeshift cradle protectively. Inside the altar turned resting place, laid a small skekling. Rustled up and shivering against the red cloth that lay in the altar’s centre. A handcrafted garment insulated with azure feathers that smelt of salt and the sea. SkekZok had found it alongside the small one when he had first found the skekling a few weeks after he had… Well, he’d rather not dwell on what he had done. That was in the past; and he had to do whatever he needed to do to secure his place at the emperor’s left hand. Even if it tore what little was left of his cold black heart asunder.

The skekling shifted around. Letting out soft cries as it attempted to get comfortable. It hadn’t grown in all its feathers yet so life was just a little bit harder for the mewling infant. It nuzzled it’s face into the feathered cloth, finding comfort in it’s familiar scent. But the cold castle air made the small bundle quiver. SkekZok pulled something out of his sleeve. It was ornate and plush. A blanket perfectly tailored to the skekling’s needs. He had commissioned the Ornamentalist to fashion some fabric into a baby blanket. It would help keep the newborn warm and safe. One of the duties SkekZok had to perform was making sure that the little one’s body temperature was always at a safe level. As well as many other things. He had to check, feed, and monitor the skekling multiple times daily to ensure the small one’s survival. This was the task he had been assigned… the task he had accepted.

The Ritual Master reached out a clawed hand to place the blanket on the childling. Initially spooked by SkekZok’s scent, the skekling attempted to back away chirping noisily. It could barely crawl and it’s eyes were still fastened tightly shut, so it only fell back into the palm of The Ritual Master. Just as he had planned. He slightly lifted up the babe, swaddling the infant in the thick blanket. Making sure to bring the garment it adored oh so much close to it’s face to ensure it was comfortable. The skekling’s cries diminished as it nuzzled into the feathered cloth. The combination of the warmth that enveloped them, and the feathers that brushed against their cheek lulled them into a deep sleep.

SkekZok sighed as he looked over the skekling’s sleeping form. It was peaceful. It’s breathing slow and calm like the ebb and flow of a wave. Looking at it rest peacefully almost made him as calm as it was. This was something he hadn’t felt in trine. Soon he found His thoughts wandering back to when he first brought the little one to the castle…

Many of the Skeksis court questioned SkekZok when he returned to them with a trembling childling in hand. When he was sent away, his task was to persue the traitorous Mariner to get her out of the way of the empire’s plans. So, he was sent away. Being the bearer of the news of SkekSa’s failure and betrayal, as well as one of her closest “friends”. SkekZok was the perfect candidate to pursue her. As well as a smart one due to his knowledge of all the places she may try to hide away. He knew all the little things that made her tick. Although as hard as he looked, he never found her. Far and low, never a trace. Except for one thing… A cry.

It had turned out that The Mariner had carried a child with someone. He had found her childling in the company of ruthless Sifan mariners. Who SkekZok had claimed were torturing the poor whelp and were about to drown it before he had bravely intervened; Slaughtering them all mercilessly. Taking the small wriggling creature back with him. Suspicion naturally arose when he told his tale. It seemed a bit… Convenient. Had it not have been for his slashed and torn robes and a fresh cut on his cheek left by a sword they would’ve assumed he was bluffing… Maybe he was.

Everyone could tell the child was SkekSa’s. Her striking appearance was unmistakable on the little creature. But who was the Sire? Whoever it was must be punished.

The punishment for an unmated pair to produce a skekling was severe. Especially for one to be birthed from a traitor! SkekZok had known this law well. After all, he made it himself as per the emperor’s request so that a very small amount of skeklings would ever be born. He swore that he would gladly deal an appropriate punishment to whoever the father might have been. As soon as they found out whoever that could be. The Ritual Master told the court that He had no idea who the sire was, as he had found it in Gelfling hand. The skekling was also far too young to tell apart any features aside from the ones it’s mother bestowed upon it. But he would find the father, and a fitting punishment would be served! …So he told the court…

The other Skeksis cackled at the thought of some pathetic peer being mercilessly punished and humiliated for a period of days or even weeks in front of the whole court. Oh what a sight to behold! What exotic punishments would be deployed? Something awful to be sure. A crime on this scale was to be dealt with painfully. But before they all got too ahead of themselves, SkekSo the Emperor slammed his staff on the ground. Directing everyone’s attention back to him. As well as making the newly found skekling cry from the shock.

“We must not forget what we have here.” The emperor spoke in a mighty tone. “Another life, another mouth to feed! …But also another addition to our legacy.” He continued as he stood up tall.

“We ARE ETERNAL! And this… childling…” he hissed. Looking it up and down. Flashing a disgusted grimace that soon turned into a wicked smirk crept across his rotten face.

“Although a bastard— it immortalizes our legacy here!”

”The Mariner was one of our finest warriors. Surely her child will follow in her footsteps.” He concluded. His hand elegantly motioning through the air as he spoke.

“A new light be shall soon shine through our empire through the sins of those who betrayed us! Our glory shall be sung to the end of time and BEYOND!” The Emperor shouted triumphantly!

The others cheered loudly at the speech SkekSo had given. Chattering incoherently amongst themselves. A few gossiping, Others sending suspicious looks SkekZok’s way. The Ritual Master was cold and cunning. Never caring for another soul other than himself, the law, and the phony cult he had called a religion. To “rescue” a traitor’s childling was extremely out off character. Especially a bastard childling. He had been the one to create the law against them hadn’t he?

SkekZok The Ritual Master stood tall, making himself known and dignified. The other’s petty gossip did not phase him. He knew where he stood. He was loyal. He puffed out his chest and spoke:

“My emperor. I am the one who found this skekling. I see that it should only make sense that I should be the one to see to it’s well-being and care.” The Ritual Master stated clearly. The frightened skekling squealing pathetically as it attempted to hide itself amongst the folds of his golden robes.

“I only see it fit Ritual Master. You were very close to SkekSa after all.” SkekSo remarked with a click of his beak and a twirling toss of his staff.

“But if it shall interfere with any of your duties I will not hesitate to have the sniveling thing taken from your hand and given to the Scientist. SkekTek could always use more… “Volunteers” The Emperor snickered with a large toothy grin as he looked SkekTek’s way.

SkekZok barely contained the snarl he was about to let out at the emperor— But he bit his lip and accepted the terms through clenched teeth.

“I shall see to it then My Emperor.” He bowed.

SkekZok’s attention naturally gravitated to SkekShod the Treasurer. Who had remained silent the entire time that SkekZok had shown the newborn to the court. He stood playing cat’s cradle with some golden thread. Although he may have seemed aloof, in reality he was soaking in all the information he had just received from this meeting intently. Deep in thought, he returned the gaze of The Ritual Master.

“Come Treasurer, I require your assistance.” SkekZok beckoned to his closest ally. Skekshod lifted his hunched head and nodded. Following close behind as the two made their way into SkekZok’s cathedral. The tall gold-adorned skeksis led his ally into an old room hidden behind the echoing halls of the chapel. It was once a meditation chamber used by SkekZok to receive visions from Thra, although he quickly abandoned it once the visions wouldn’t tell him he wanted to hear. This would become the newly adopted Skeksis’s room until something more appropriate was constructed. It was a wise choice. Being one of the safest rooms in the holy place. There were no weapons, no bloodstains… Dry and hidden away, with not many remembering its existence. Only adding to the feeling of safety.

“Skekshod. I want you to hold the skekling as I empty the altar of the water inside. Together we will create a temporary nursery for this little one until it has its own quarters.”

He passed over the overwhelmed skekling to The Treasurer. The babe still lost and scared, continued to sharply cry. It’s mewling echoing throughout the dimly lit room as Skekshod confusingly tried to carry it properly. Holding the weeping infant upside-down.

“The one with the power blesses us for caring for his chosen and lost. Remember that as you endure it’s squealing and scratching.” The Ritual Master recited as he prepared a place for the skekling.

Soon... things were starting to get hazy… Memories and reality blurring until he was brought back to the present… SkekZok quickly shook his head from side to side. Ah. He had been day dreaming of the unum’s events. Had it really been a whole unum? It went by too fast. That didn’t seem right. Although… nothing seemed right anymore. The world was never a simple place and he knew it. And it never would be that wonderful, simple place ever again. Not after what he had done to her… But the brief moments of relief he felt when he would care for this strange childling was all worth it.

Taking a quick look around the chamber he noticed nobody but a few podling servants lighting candles. Good. As it should be. Once he knew he was all alone and not a sound could be heard; he lowered his large skeletal head down to the altar. Nuzzling the skekling’s soft cheek with the tip of what remained of his snout. He smiled subtly as the baby yawned and stretched. It’s gangly little limbs reaching out to him as he brushed against them. The skekling grabbed at his face with an exhausted peep, but soon grew tired again. Turning to face the opposite direction as it continued to sleep peacefully.

The Ritual Master slowly removed his head from the cradle with a quiet hoarse chuckle. He smiled as he brushed it’s cheek one more time with his fingertips. Ever so careful as to not cut open it’s tender skin with his talons. He then stood up straight with an unmistakable wheeze as he sighed.

“There is much I must attend to little one. May the one with the power bless you and keep you.”

After reciting his blessing, his face returned to its natural scowl as he left the room to attend to the rest of his daily rituals and duties. He looked as if nothing had changed in his life. And everything was the same way it had been for the last 1,000 trine. Good. That’s how it should be. He was just The Ritual Master. Left hand to the Lord of all of Thra. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to keep his power intact. Not even a little childling that had grasped his heart tightly in its little azure claws. Or at least that’s what he would let the world see.

“MmmMmMmMmmM…”

…A familiar whimper could be heard echoing within the cathedral.

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thebibliomancer · 3 years

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Song of the Dark Crystal liveblog pt 21

Song of the Dark Crystal by J.M. Lee because after that big shocking reveal last time I don’t really need another because!

Last times on book: Kylan, Naia, Amri, and Tavra are finally on their way to Ha’rar after the disappointment of finding that the firca of Gyr the Song Teller was broken. When Kylan went ahead to ask Tavra if they could take a break, he discovered she wasn’t Tavra and was colluding with the Skeksis against them! He knows but she doesn’t knows he knows! How tense!

Chapter 21

Kylan is a sweet little blue berry

When Fake-Tavra and Kylan get back to the clearing, Naia immediately insists that no matter what Tavra thinks, they need to rest.

Fake-Tavra actually draws her sword although she stops short of being actually threatening with it. Still, GEEZ FAKE TAVRA!

Its only thanks to the improbability of an imposter situation that you’ve been getting away with impostering because you are terrible at pretending to be a reasonable individual!

Kylan, who has reason to worry about whether Fake-Tavra would actually use the sword knowing that her Skeksis master is getting impatient with her, steps in.

He’s stepped between Fake Tavra and Naia so many times that he’s basically an expert at this point.

“Tavra. Listen. Amri needs shoes, or soon we’ll have to carry him, which will surely slow us down further than if we stop for just a little while.”

“It’s not my fault he decided to come. If he needs shoes so badly, he can have mine.”

Tavra reached down and tore the sandals from her feet, tossing them at the Grottan boy, who flinched at the gesture.

“That’s really not necessary,” Amri began. “Naia cut some hide from her jerkin, so...”

Geez, poor Amri. He didn’t ask to be in the middle of this drama.

Kylan deflects again because he can sense that this is argument is gonna escalate and then Fake Tavra’s gonna kick their asses.

“I got a note from Rian. It came by swoothu, early this evening. His boat was damaged by a rock in the river, and he was waylaid. He’s close by and he said he’ll wait for us if we’re near. I already told him we would meet him tomorrow evening.”

Tavra snatches the note from Kylan, looks at it, and then dunks it into the fire.

Naia looks at Kylan skeptically but he hits her with the full force of puppy dog ‘please play along’ eyes.

“Oh,” she said in a normal tone, as if she had just remembered. “So that’s what you were doing out in the wood earlier. Why didn’t you tell us right away?”

Ain’t friends who’ll back up your random lies the best?

Kylan builds up on his lie by claiming that he didn’t mention it earlier because he was worried it was secretly a secret Skeksis scheme trap.

Fake Tavra confidently says its not a trap (because she is the trap and the Skeksis wouldn’t double book).

Kylan suggests that they wait until morning and then go meet him.

Tavra stared into the fire, free hand cupping her chin in thought. He hoped she was thinking what he wanted her to think - that this opportunity was too sweet to miss. Her master wanted Rian, and this was a way she could regain favor.

He was rewarded when she sheathed her sword.

“Yes. Fit those sandals to the Shadowling. We leave first thing in the dawn.”

And then Fake Tavra sits against a tree and falls asleep. Or pretends to fall asleep?

... Huh. Y’know. With all the emphasis on the Skeksis wanting to drink Naia and Gurjin, I forgot that the inciting incident of all this was them trying to catch Rian.

With that settled, Amri turns his attention to the sandals that Tavra threw at him because he doesn’t have context for all of this and his number one priority is his aching feet.

The sandals are pretty close to his own foot size but Fake Tavra broke the cords when she ripped them off.

Kylan tells Amri he’ll fix them but first fishes the fire-resistant parchment out of the fire and hands it to Amri.

Naia comes over to talk to Kylan while he fixes the sandals, which he’s really good at because it was one of the tasks Maudra Mera taught him when he was a child.

When Kylan whispers back, he whispers loud enough for Fake Tavra to overhear. Oh, Kylan, what scheme are you up to?

“I don’t trust Tavra.” He watched the Silverling when he spoke. She did not stir. “Something about her has been all wrong since we ran into her. You remember... with the blue mouth?”

Naia frowned. “Of course I remember the blue mouth.”

Kylan chose his words as carefully as if he were telling a song. This was the most important part of all.

“Good,” he said. “Because if you remember, then you’ll understand why I want to meet with Rian in private. Tonight. I don’t want Tavra to get her hands on him... I think she’s working for the Skeksis. So, tonight, when it’s quiet, I’m going to sneak out and meet him and tell him. I’m going to tell him to go on to Ha’rar without us, and tell the All-Maudra that her daughter is a traitor.”

Kylan watches from a reaction from Fake Tavra but all he notices is that earring of hers twinkling in the fire light and he thinks it moves on its own.

HMMMMMMMM.

Naia protests Kylan having to go alone but Kylan can’t explain it without giving the game away and dreamfasting would draw Fake Tavra’s attention. Especially since she’d mentioned to her Skeksis master that she could sense it. So he has to trust Naia to trust him and figure out what his plan is. THROUGH FRIENDSHIP and shared experiences.

“Remember the blue mouth?” Kylan asked. “It was good we weren’t alone then.”

Amri had been quiet, since he likely had no idea what the blue mouth was or what it had done. In the meantime, he had uncrumpled the scrap of paper Kylan had handed him, smoothing it on his lap. Kylan focused on mending the last of the broken cord, waiting for Amri’s reaction. It came shortly: a glance of confusion, then the flicker of understanding.

Hmmm.

I have to say, I love Amri just being completely baffled at these references and deciding ‘I guess I’ll read garbage.’

I’m not sure what would be on the note that would give the game away but that also wouldn’t clue Fake Tavra in... unless Fake Tavra can’t read?

It’s been mentioned a couple times that she’s shown no interest in all the writing everywhere.

Also, I forgot what the blue mouth was supposed to be and only just vaguely remembered that its the plant that tried to eat them. I don’t think they ever call it a blue mouth? I’ve flipped back and while it had a mouth it wasn’t described as blue. But the fruit are blue. And that makes me think I know what the reference means and what Naia is supposed to take from it.

Kylan takes first watch and waits and waits and waits until he can’t waits any more.

Kylan watched the fire die in quiet, holding his hands in his lap to keep from fidgeting. Though the night was the same as any other, knowing what would soon come made it seem as if he existed inside a dome of his own thoughts. His mind felt like Aughra’s observatory: constantly moving, full of things.

Stay focused, he told himself. Tell the song. It will work... it has to.

He takes off into the dark wood (not the Dark Wood although it reminds him of the night he spent then and how scared he was compared to how brave he is now and hopes if someone tells his story they remember his character development. You’re such a Song Teller, Kylan).

Since he’s listening carefully, he hears footsteps following behind him at a distance.

The follower (I mean, its Fake Tavra, there’s no ambiguity there) isn’t bothering too hard to hide.

It proved to him that she had meant it when she had called him weak, and for the first time, he smiled about it to himself.

Kylan leads Fake Tavra stalking him towards a perfect ambush zone. Just a great place with ledges and boulders and all kinds of lunging places.

And then Tavra ambushes him.

Kylan turned toward Tavra’s voice just as she shoved him against the cliffside with her forearm, pinning him with her body. In her other hand she held a short knife, but more wicked was the grin on her ghostly face. She did not look like Tavra. She did not look like a Gelfling at all.

She’s being a spooky.

She demands Kylan tell her where Rian is and when he stammers that Rian isn’t here yet, Fake Tavra declares that when Rian does arrive, he’ll find a dead Kylan.

That’s the worst welcoming gift!

ALSO yeah that little earring thing thats repeatedly had attention drawn to it in the text? Its moving? And it has eight legs?

SPIDER-TAVRA. I KNEW IT.

Oh but the real ambush is the ambush that ambushes the ambush.

Kylan ducks out of the way as a bunch of finger-vines are dumped all over Tavra. They leave Kylan alone but snare Tavra in an unbreakable grip.

Amri and Naia climb down from the ledge on the finger-vines. Ah ha! Naia’s ability to talk to plants!

“How dare you!” [Tavra] cried, but the vines near her face slithered across her mouth and silenced her. It seemed the plant did not like her, either.

Hah.

“You make quite a good little blue mouth berry,” Naia said.

Kylan chuckled.

“Sweet and small. We make the best bait.”

HAH.

Okay so the blue mouth plant with its tempting little blue fruits. And Kylan was the tempting little blue fruit in this context because he’s small and sweet. And also the one that Spider-Tavra perceived as weak and no threat.

It all comes together! Good way to draw the plot threads together, Kylan!

And good way to make that weird tree that tried to eat them woven into the narrative and not just a weird random encounter.

Much respect, J.M. Lee. You wordsmith.

The three Gelfling look on the trapped traitor.

“Now, tell us who you are and what you’ve done with Tavra,” said Naia.

YEAH.

I mean, I have a decent idea but I wouldn’t mind some exposition to fill in the gaps. We’re seventy some pages to the end and I don’t know where the rest of the plot is going! Somehow I feel that we’re not going to go to Ha’rar after all.

#dark crystal #the dark crystal #Song of the Dark Crystal #liveblog #Kylan #Naia #Amri #Tavra?#kylan rules; ok?

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sweetiepie08 · 4 years

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Stonegrot Week Day 3

@stonegrotweek

Title: A Blanket of Stars

Prompt: A stolen moment between Deet and Rian

Day 1. Day 3.

[-]

“What else is up there?” Deet asked, keeping her voice to a whisper as best she could. The others were asleep. Only she and Rian remained awake to look at the stars.

“You see those stars, there?” Rian said, pointing at the sky. “You see how they fan out like-”

“Wings!” Deet gasped, a little proud of herself. “I see it!” She was having a hard time finding the constellations Rian was showing her. There were just so many stars. Her eyes wanted to scan them over and drink them in. It was hard trying to fixate on only a few.

“That’s the Great Windsifter,” he explained, resting his arm again. “Legend says it carries messaged for the spirits of Thra.”

“I didn’t know there was so much to see in the sky,” she said, the stars reflecting in her dark eyes. There were so many. It looked like someone spilled diamond dust of a deep blue blanket. And it just went on and on.

“Can you see the stars in Grot?” he asked.

“Not really. There are several openings and cracks where you can see slivers of the sky, but you can’t see much apart from its blue color. I didn’t know there were so many stars. And you can see shapes up there too? Who first noticed the?”

His face crinkled. “I don’t really know. My father showed them to me when I was I childling, and my grandfather showed him. I’m sure Brea can tell you all about who first charted the stars, but I think it’s mostly just gelfling passing it down from one generation to the next.”

Deet tore her eyes away from the sky and turned her gaze to Rian. He lay in the grass beside her, one arm tucked behind his head and another resting across his stomach. She liked seeing him like this. During the day, his face was lined with worry and his eyes were sharp, always watching for potential dangers. Not now. Not he looked almost at peace.

“Rian…” she whispered.

“Yes?”

She wasn’t sure what to say to him. She wanted to tell him how much she liked seeing him at ease. She’d seen him go through so much heartache in the short time she’s known him. It wasn’t fair to put so much on one gelfling. She wanted to tell him he deserved to have to have more moments like this. That she wanted him to be content and calm. That she wished he didn’t have to carry so much pain in his heart.

In the end, she decided not to say any of it. He was her friend, true, but he was still a new friend. Telling him all that felt like too much too soon. Bringing it up now might even spoil this tranquil moment between them, and she didn’t want that.

“Thank you for showing me the stars,” she said. “They’re lovely.”

“You’re welcome.” He let out a soft chuckle. “Although, I had very little to do with them.”

“All the same, they’re beautiful.” She turned her eyes back to the sky as her heart grew even fonder.

So many stars. They went on an on. She could see how Mother Aughra got lost in them.

#stonegrot week #stonegrot #Deet #Rian #the dark crystal age of resistance #stonegrotweek #stonegrot week day 3

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piemakersanddeadgirls · 3 years

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Landstrider

Sorry for the delay, I dumped water on my laptop and didn’t have the money to fix it, luckily I just gave my old laptop to my dad and he was able to give it back after he got himself a new one, he even added more RAM for me so this one runs faster! So here it is finally

Dreamfast With Me part 5

Ao3

Summary: Patton begins his first journey outside of the Spriton Plains

Patton understood why it was called the Darkwood now. The last of three suns had set only an hour ago and everything was pitch black. It was making him nervous. Virgil, used to the darkness in the deep caves of Grot, had taken the lead. Janus, though he didn’t show his nervousness, stuck close to Patton’s side, every once in a while brushing each other’s arms to make sure the other was still there.

“Perhaps we should stop for the night?” said Janus. “It’s getting late.”

“I think so too,” said Patton, “Virge? Is that okay?”

Virgil sighed and stopped, “Yeah, that’s fine. The trees should filter out enough of the Suns’ light that I won’t be completely blind in the morning.”

Patton whined in sympathy, he’d forgotten the sunlight hurt Virgil’s eyes.

“It’s fine, Pat.” Virgil assured. “We should start a fire, so we don’t freeze to death. I’ll gather the wood since I can see the best right now.”

Patton decided to sit down where he was standing. Janus followed suit as Virgil disappeared into the darkness.

“Do you know how far Stone-In-The-Wood is from Sami Thicket?” Patton asked.

“Should only be a couple days on foot if I remember correctly. Maybe the day after tomorrow?” said Janus.

“Oh, good, this forest creeps me out.”

Janus hummed in response. After a few moments of silence, there was a rustle a little ways away before Virgil emerged from the darkness. He quickly went about setting up the fire and getting it lit.

“You’re quite efficient at that.” Janus remarked.

“The Grottan are full of tricks. Maybe I’ll teach you some of them eventually.” Virgil said as he settled next to Patton by the fire.

Patton dug some of their provisions out of his bag to cook over the fire. He’d even packed some seasonings, a little comfort from home. He startled slightly as Seeker slid from Janus’s shoulders to his own drawn to the smell of cooking food. He saw Janus shaking his head at the shenanigans of his muski.

After supper they laid out their bedrolls to sleep. Seeker abandoned Patton’s shoulders to curl up with Janus. Patton lay awake for a while, he’d slept outside before, but never this far from home, and in an unfamiliar forest on top of that. He couldn’t tell if the others had fallen asleep, he knew Virgil had trouble sleeping even when he was in the safety of Patton’s home, but he didn’t want to risk waking him for that reason as well. The poor thing barely got any rest as is.

Suddenly there was loud rustling just beyond the outskirts of their little camp, just outside the light of the fire. Patton sat up, heart racing, what could it be? In this dark forest it could be any manner of creature. It could even be a Skeksis! That thought made Patton shudder.

A hand on his shoulder startled him and suppressed a yelp until Virgil whispered, “It’s okay, it’s just me.”

“Can you see what it is?” Patton heard Janus ask. He glanced over to see the Drenchen had sat up as well. Seeker perched on his shoulders, frills twitching as he stared into the darkness.

“Not really, if the fire was out maybe, all I can tell is that it’s big.” Virgil said. “I don’t want to put out the fire in case that’s the only thing keeping it at bay.”

There was more rustling and a long thin leg emerged before the familiar flat face of a creature emerged with it. Patton sighed in relief, “It’s a landstrider.”

He felt more than saw the others relax beside him. Patton stood and walked toward the creature, talking to it softly. “It’s okay, we won’t hurt you…”

The landstrider mooed and took a step back. Patton shushed it, holding out his hands to show it that he didn’t mean any harm and even though he wasn’t touching it, he tried to radiate a sense of calmness for it. But there was something wrong, there was wildness in the landstrider’s eyes, more so than would be expected from even an undomesticated gentle giant. As he looked closer he realized the landstrider had violet glow to it’s eyes, that was strange.

He heard Janus suck in a breath behind him. He must have seen it too. “Patton freeze.”

Patton stopped and glanced at Janus who was staring intently at the landstrider. “Step back slowly towards us, please.”

Patton looked back at the landstrider, it was obvious there was something wrong and Patton wanted nothing more than to help it but Janus could clearly see something Patton could not. He took a step back slowly as Janus had instructed.

He was halfway back to Virgil and Janus when the creature suddenly bellowed and charged. Patton stood frozen in the path of the landstrider, he yelped when he suddenly hit the ground and realized Virgil had tackled him out of harm's way. He looked up to see Janus jump out of the landstrider’s path as well. The landstrider stopped and turned around to charge again but Virgil had leapt to his feet, grabbing the closest sticks and rocks to throw at the landstrider, before grabbing the cool end of a lit branch from the fire and swinging it wildly at the landstrider.

“Don’t hurt her!” Patton cried, even though the creature was doing its best to hurt them. The landstrider bellowed again and reared before it turned tail and fled, crashing through the undergrowth.

“Are you guys okay?” Virgil asked, holding out a hand to help Patton up from the ground.

“I think so.” Patton said shakily.

“A little bruised but I’m fine.” Janus said as he stood and brushed off his clothes. Patton hugged himself, he’d never seen a landstrider act like that before, except when protecting their young, and even then they rarely attacked Gelfling for that.

“Why would she attack us like that?” Patton asked.

“You saw her eyes, yeah?” Janus asked, “They had that weird purple glow to them? She’s infected. I’ve seent it before in the Sog, the nebrie that gave me this.” He gestured to his face.

“I’ve seen it too.” said Virgil, “Some of the nurlocks in caves of Grot have become vicious. I heard that one had attacked a gelfling and tore her wing not long before the...before I left.”

“But...what could have caused it?” Patton asked sadly.

“You saw the vision that those petals that snowed everywhere brought, didn’t you?” Janus said. “There’s something wrong with the Crystal of Truth, the Skeksis corrupted it and the corruption is spreading. First in the plants and now into the animals.”

“But...Maudra Mera said-”

“Maudra Mera is too afraid of the Skeksis to say anything against them even when the truth is right in front of her face.” Virgil rubbed at the back of his neck. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything earlier but I didn’t want to upset her anymore than my presence in Sami Thicket already had.”

“No, no...you’re right.” Patton sighed, “She didn’t used to be that way but then Gelfling started disappearing and after that the census started. Any strangers that came through were to be suspected and strange things like those petals or animals acting weird were just tests set by the Skeksis. This is the first time I’ve seen a poor landstrider act like that though, it’s obvious there’s something seriously wrong.”

There was silence for a little while as the three of them took a moment to allow what just happened to sink in. The silence was loud, the sound of creatures of the night in the darkness outside of their little circle of light the only sound.

Janus finally cleared his throat, “Well, while we can, if we can, we should get some more rest. It’s still a long way to Stone-In-The-Wood.”

Patton sighe, “You’re right. But..can we all sleep closer together? I think I’d feel more comfortable that way.”

Virgil gave him a small smile. “Of course, Pat.”

The three of them shook the dest from their bed rolls and moved them closer together before laying down side by side, Janus on one side, Virgil on the other, and Patton in the middle. Hesitantly, Patton reached out to hold each of their hands. Virgil was used to this by now and allowed to take Patton without fuss but Janus moved his hand back at first, unsure, but after a moment he moved it back and allowed Patton to take his as well.

#dream fast with me #virgil sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #tssides dark crystal au

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why-so-melxncholy-archived · 4 years

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Safe

Small fic set in the aftermath of the Garthim raid on Jen’s village. Obvious trigger warnings of death apply.

If you reblog this please do not comment, either reply or comment in the tags!

Dying screams fill his ears as he sits in what is left of his home, his hands over his ears to block the noise, his eyes squeezed shut. His parents told him to stay hidden, and so he did as he was told. But nothing could have prepared him for what awaited him when he emerged from the rubble – homes turned to ash, bodies decorated the village, blood painted on the ground. Fire tore through the trees and robbed the fresh air, so every agonizing breath Jen takes is one filled with ash and smoke as he slowly opens his eyes, blue hues adjusting to what was left of Stone-in-the-Wood.

“Papa? Mama?” The childling frantically looks around for any sign of life, ears twitching for any detection of sound – but all is silent except for his own panicked breath, quickening with each intake of polluted air, the stench of burning flesh and earth threatening to make the young one retch.

“Papa? Mama!” He calls again, his voice seeming to slice through the eerie silence, the panic growing ever so stronger inside him as he stumbles to his feet. He has to find them. They have to be here; they have to be alive. They promised him they’d come back.

They promised…

Gaze falls on two fallen gelfling, their silhouettes growing more familiar as Jen takes cautious steps closer. He doesn’t need to see if it’s them. He knows. Kneeling at his father’s side, the childling places a hand on his shoulder before giving it a light shake.

“Papa?” He shakes him again, this time more forcefully. “Papa, come on, get up. The monsters are gone.” Tears well in the childling’s eyes, head shaking as he shakes his father once more. He shakes his mother, too.

“Mama?? Papa, please get up…” Jen lets his tears fall, knowing his efforts to wake his parents are all for naught as he quietly curls himself in between them, draping his father’s arm around him as quiet sobs rack the young one’s body. This can’t be… They promised… Why did this have to happen?

He can sense the presence of another… though they are foreign to him as he peeks up at them with glassy hues. The sad, old, wrinkled features of a Mystic gazes upon him – kind eyes meeting his own as one of four hands is outstretched.

“Young gelfling,” his voice sounds old, ancient… but there’s kindness. “You must come with me.”

“But—” Jen starts, turning his gaze back to his parents. He can’t leave… He couldn’t. He couldn’t leave them here.

“Your parents cannot be with you anymore, young one.” The Mystic beckons Jen to come closer, and before Jen goes to him, he gives his parents a final goodbye – pressing his forehead against theirs; remembering them as they were; how they smelled, how they laughed, how they laughed with him.

“You will be safe with me in the Valley,” hand reaches out again, taking the childling in his arm, where Jen buried his face in the long, grey hair that cascaded down his long neck. “Come, now.”

The gelfling peeks behind and takes in his last glimpse of Stone-in-the-Wood.

#alli writes #jen #🎬 [ ❝ now a journey must begin; the journey of jen ❞ ] (film: the dark crystal)#fic

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shortpirateking · 4 years

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An unlikely friendship (SkekTek and UrTih)

(A/N: For the lovely @pun-and-laughter, the first place winner of my giveaway ^^ I hope you enjoy it!)

Never within SkekTek’s life, had he ever thought he would find a kindred spirit, someone who understood his intellect. He was a skeksis of science, within a land of magic and madness. For him, it was a challenge, bringing order in something with none. Many of the skeksis saw him mad, and perhaps he was, but he was determined, determined to prove to them he was more than a simple madman.

Because of this determination, SkekTek seldom left the castle of the crystal, abhorring to leave the safety of his lab, into the cold and cruel, filthy world. More and more cyborg than skeksis, he feared rust and grime getting within the gears of his mechanical leg- and yet, he could not remain locked up forever. An herb, something he needed to grind down into a simple extract, a key component for the oil made to keep his leg clean and working. The podlings were incompetent, and the gelfling too busy with the commands of the others to serve him. And so, he left the safety of his lab in search of it.

However, this day would bring about more than a simple, dirty search, more than an irritating day wasted in the outdoors. When he finally found the first sign of the plant he needed, he reached out-

Only to have a blunt and strong hand wrap around it too, covering his shaky and thin talons in its gentle warmth. Eyes raised, cold yellow meeting warm amber.

A mystic.

Eyes widen, the scientist yanking his hand away from the plant as he hissed in defense. “Cretin! What is your kind doing upon skeksis land?!” His hackles raised, teeth bared to make himself seem more terrifying than he truly was, but the flinch, the look of startlement caused him to pause.

The mystic, ever wary, shook his head, gently plucking the herb from the ground.

“I do not wish to stay long” He finally answered, “I ran out of a few rare herbs UrNol could not make…” Eyes narrowed, and at first he was tempted to yell at the accursed mystic for daring to encroach upon skeksis land- until the herb was held out to him. “You need it for lubricant, yes?” came the soft reply, “I have already gotten a few for myself…”

Suspicion coursed through him, but SkekTek gingerly took the offered herb anyways, knowing better than to refuse a rare gift.

...though he made sure to check for tampering.

“There are more within the meadow, if you require more” came the reply of the mystic, pointing in the direction of the aforementioned meadow. “I was headed there myself.”

“...Why are you telling me this?”

The mystic, in all his gentleness, smiled, offering his hand.

“Life is too precious to waste on being cruel”

The Mystic, UrTih, was a kind and gentle being, SkekTek found. Having helped him search for the herb he needed, as well as pointing out others that would strengthen the oil made. When asked how he held such knowledge, the mystic simply smiled.

“Trial and error” he would finally reply, “many tests and many attempts”

When the third brother began to fade, they parted, one returning to the valley of the mystics, while the other returned to the castle of the skeksis, many new herbs within his claws, and a feeling of emptiness within his heart.

---

SkekTek had promised himself he would avoid the mystic, this UrTih who shared his curiosity to learn. So he tried to lock himself up once more-

But time and time again he found himself having to scavenge for something he was missing that he couldn’t get another to do, and each time he would find the mystic not too far behind. Each time it was accidental, each time he would try to avoid talking to him-

And each time he would end up sharing more information with him, learning more of the world than he ever could fathom.

Each time, they’d leave with new information. Each time Skektek would come back with armfuls of materials good for his experiments.

And each time Skektek would promise to never return.

He would ignore the hole within his heart.

The second brother was bright within the sky when the Alchemist found the scientist, pride hurt and murmuring curses in skexish.

“Sniveling, pompous ingrates!” The ire within his speech palpable, “I give them all I have, and yet they demand more! Gluttonous! No one recognizes my intellect! Without I they would be forced to live like the podlings!”

SkekTek continued his angered tirade, hands moving about frantically and dramatically, as if his words were simply not enough to communicate his rage. UrTih simply listened.

When his voice finally faded, Skektek found a warm and gentle hand wrapped around his own. Yellow met amber, yet he did not pull away.

The Third brother began to fade within the sky, and skektek loathed to leave the comfort of the other.

---

Their friendship- though SkekTek refused to call it as such- was an odd one to say the least. Both held different views upon the philosophical, had often debated it, and yet, both would seek the answers to the world, though both seeked it differently. One through removing the insanity of the living world, the other seeking the knowledge through such insanity.

It made no sense to the Scientist, yet many things about this arrangement made none. And so, he dared not question it, even as he buried his beak within the comforting embrace of UrTih.

---

“The fault obviously lies within the scientist.”

But it was not! He was not the one who tried to steal the essence!!

The cries of the skeksis were loud, cheering over what punishment would befall him, even the ones who had originally sides with him.

Turncoats, the lot of them.

“Sire, Scientist is still skeksis….perhaps would do good to have...peeper beetle”

No! Anything but this!

He had cried and pleaded with the emperor for mercy, even as he was dragged away-

Pain erupted from UrTih’s right eye, the feeling of something not there digging into his socket, eating upon the soft flesh. He cried out, shrieking and howling in agony that was not his. The others had immediately gathered around him, comforting him with what they could, but the Alchemist felt nothing besides the fear and betrayal from his other half-

Lips parted, whispering Skektek’s name as his vision fell dark.

He dreamed of a single being, crying out in pain and fear, bright and luminous form holding onto himself as agony wracked through his frame.

And when he awoke, UrTih found himself running into the woods.

---

His breath was ragged, his sides ached, and yet he dare not stop. Not even as the familiar form of SkekTek appeared into the meadow both had often gathered at. He didn’t stop, until his arms were wrapped around the other’s waist, feeling their shaking body against him.

The Scientist crumpled against him, soft and heaving sobs escaping chapped lips. Talons dug into rough hide, yet UrTih dared not even think of letting him go.

As SkekTek finally calmed, both settled upon the ground, hands held tightly, refusing to part themselves from the other.

“Come with me” begged UrTih, squeezing shaking hands. “When my brothers hear what had happened, surely they would allow you with us. You will be cherished, safe from the ones who harmed you”

It was a wish, hope, hope that he would say yes, that he would take up his offer…. But UrTih knew Skektek well enough to know he would not, not until the skeksis tore him apart, broke him down from the inside out.

Yet, Skektek held closer still, silent in thought.

“I tire of being the scapegoat for feckless beings” He finally answered, “You were closer a companion than any of the others ever were....” Relief and joy spread over the mystic, the weight of his worry leaving his shoulders. Without thinking, he nuzzled against the skeksis. An intimate motion, yet the scientist returned it, leaning into it with a mix of desperation and care.

So long as UrTih was with him-

So long as the Scientist was safe by his side…

Everything would be okay.

#SkekTek #UrTih #TekTih #friendship #Skeksis #Urru #mystics #The Dark Crystal #the dark crystal age of resistance #dark crystal #The Scientist

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contentforthecrystal · 5 years

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Romantic SkekMal headcanons

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous; hopefully this is what you were expecting. I might add more later when I rewatch the series.)

- Okay let’s be real skekmal isn’t romantic; he’s a coolblooded butcher who barely has a heart and has only truly been interested in slaughtering things and collecting them as trophies. You were almost met with the same fate when you came across him while trekking deep within a forest.

- You hadn’t been paying attention to your surroundings, not noticing the sounds all around you although that isn’t exactly your fault; even if you were trying to listen for something you probably wouldn’t even hear him. All of a sudden you saw a streak colors and you were thrown to the floor; you scrambled, crawling backwards while looking at the attacker who loomed wickedly over you. You had heard stories of him; everyone had, but none of them compared to the real thing.

- His eyes ran over you; not Gelfling, Podling, definitely not Gruenak, so what then? Had he been hidden among the trees for so long that a new species was created right under his nose? He took a calculated step forward and you crawled back some more, nervous, afraid-no... terrified, oh how fun.

- You had pleaded then, hands shooting up, halting him even though he’d usually ignore such pathetic gestures. It was interesting hearing you speak, voice soft, a tremor running through your words. You had a family, like he cared? Did you really think that would stop him, the only thing stopping him was your intriguing appearance.

- It’s because you’re so interesting that he decides to “keep you”. You find yourself being dragged to your feet and hoisted over his shoulder as he makes his way back to his campsite.

- You’re practically his trophy pet, a beautifully interesting capture of his that proves his excellence and skills. So basically you’re a prisoner kept locked away from the rest of the world and always in his line of sight to make sure you can’t escape. And for a while that’s all you are; that is until he begins to find you more and more attractive.

- He begins taking note of different qualities of yours he enjoys as well as the seemingly pointless yet endearing hobbies you’ve been able to keep up with while being with him. Soon enough he sees you as more of a companion then a trophy.

- He won’t outright make it clear that you’re now together but chances are he’s snuck in some Skeksis courting rituals while interacting with you; none of which you understand nor pay any mind to, so in his eyes since you hadn’t objected and just obliviously went along with them you are now his.

- Even though he doesn’t make your relationship clear he will get fiercely angry if you show interest in another or if he’s ever been around to see someone attempt to flirt with you. You’ve almost gotten a few people killed before you realized that SkekMal was trying to or had already been courting you without your knowledge.

- Chances are you were made fully aware of the predicament you were in because of his jealously. Someone had been flirting with you while you passed through a town with him which you were quite enjoying until Skekmal nearly tore their limbs from their body. When you rightfully got upset by his reaction and demanded an explanation for his behavior while he roughly dragged you away he had roared about all that he viewed as you accepting his courtship.

“YOU AGREED! YOU SLEPT IN THE BED! YOU USED THE DAGGER! YOU ARE MINE!” (I’m improvising, perhaps I’ll make a skeksis courting rituals headcanons later)

- You’re stunned into silence and he snaps his mouth shut as he studies your oddly quiet behavior, his head tilting to the side. He’s quite confused as to why you’re suddenly not attempting to yell at him.

“I’ve... I’ve agreed to be yours?” You all but whisper.

“...indeed.” And a silence falls over you two, fairly uncharacteristic for the violent creature before you.

- From then on you have a sort of unspoken relationship.

- He’s fairly temperamental; one moment he’s calm, might even tough you gently, nuzzle his face into your neck, the next he’s a flash of red hot anger or a swirl of confusion and mixed emotions, storming off and disappearing for hours.

- He gets aggravated without your presence. He never would have imagined that he would rely on another being in any way but whenever you’re gone he realizes just how much he genuinely craves your company or just being able to come back to you after hunting.

- You’re probably the one to introduce him to actual good tasting food, like homie survives on jerky and mud water 90% of the time so anything you make is delicious compared to his usual meals.

- Rough grips around your wrist, whether it be to bring you somewhere or pull you close to speak into your ear. His touch by nature is not gentle so really any time his hands are on you it’s going to be rough.

- He watches you while you sleep and once he knows you’ve fallen into a deep slumber he’ll sometimes stalks towards the bed and sit on the edge, inspecting you more closely. Occasionally he’ll drag his hands across your skin and marvel at the smoothness or curl up next to you listening to your breathing; not quite cuddling with you but not too far from you.

- Jealousy and possessiveness obviously, you’re his trophy, you’re his and his alone. Thra have mercy on anyone who dares even think about taking you away from him.

- He’ll often mark you to show his territory to others whether it be with a nip or scratch of his claws. Rumors spread and soon enough its well known that the Hunters “wife/husband” will have a certain mark on them. This also ensures you aren’t very welcome in any city if you ever try to run from him.

- Of course you don’t look like a Skeksis so many are very confused as to why SkekMal has seemingly claimed you, particularly the other Skeksis when they find out. They can’t deny you’re interesting but they would never imagine courting something so “lowly”.

- Obviously he likes a good hunt so just try to run from him or storm off when you’re angry or fed up, it won’t take him long to find you again and when he does he’ll certainly be quite excited/amused.

- Occasionally you’ll just play an innocent game of hide and seek just to “warm him up” when he’s about to go off on a serious hunt.

- You receive little trinkets or gifts often bones or weapons, things like that. He’s heard that you’re supposed to give your significant other gifts and even though he doesn’t quite understand the sentiment he gives it a try. He’s never around when you find the gifts but you can be sure he’s watching you from somewhere you can’t see.

- He gets a swell of pride he can’t exactly explain when he sees that you like said gift or finds it placed somewhere special.

- Sometimes he just picks you up and carries you under his arm when he feels like you’re moving too slow for his tastes or won’t comply with his decisions.

- Quiet campfires; he doesn’t speak very often unless you ask him something and even then he will sometimes not answer deciding to leave you guessing. Occasionally you’ll manage to get him to tell some of the stories of his hunts and you can watch him a bit nervously as he animatedly describes a fairly horrendous series of events that include gruesome murders.

-You have to have a tough stomach if you’re going to be around him, he’s a savage and gruesome killer. He finds no reason for you to be disgusted in seeing guts or entrails and he certainly wont understand why you’re acting so squeamish but if you are more weak hearted then he’ll make an effort not to turn up to your camp covered with or carrying somethings insides.

- Hes not great at accepting compliments that don’t pertain to his hunting skills, he’ll most likely tell you to keep quiet all the while his heart slowly begins to stir inside his chest.

- He’ll silently patch you up whenever you get hurt. It’s interesting seeing him so focused and quiet; no telling you how foolish you’ve been or anything, just his rough yet attempted gentle touch.

- Hearing the incessant sharpening of his blades especially when he’s in a mood. Occasionally he’ll let you hold his weapons usually after some persuading on your side. His face softens while he observes you although you’re usually too focused on the blade in your hand to notice. If you’re lucky you’ll look up just in time to notice, if you ask him why he’s looking at you like that he’ll just shake his head and look away.

#skekmal #skekmal imagine #skekmal headcanons #skekmal headcanon #the dark crystal #the dark crystal age of resistance #the dark crystal age of resistance headcanon #the dark crystal headcanon #dark crystal headcanons #the dark crystal imagine #the hunter #the hunter imagine #the hunter headcanons #the hunter headcanon

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fenth-eiria · 3 years

Text

Austin

Species: Gelfling

Age: 2 years

Clan(s): Stonewood, Sifan

Parents: Agothra (biological Mother), Tore (biological father), Seki (Stepfather)

So this is how it went in my head...

Agothra just finished a drinking contest against Tae and won, while Tore got drunk with his fellow castle guards. As Agothra was wandering around, drunk Tore took notice of her, and decided with his drunk conscious to make out with her. The next morning she woke up and saw Tore. However she remembered what her mother said, so she grabbed a knife, and the moment Tore saw her with the knife he made a run for it.

Fast forward 9 months and Austin was born. Months before that, Seki had enter a relationship with Agothra. So for Austin’s whole life, he thinks Seki is his real father. At 1 year old, he became blind, but is very good at hearing, and speaking.

Tore belongs to @thanatasia

Agothra, Austin, and Seki belongs to me

#dark crystal #age of resistance #sifa clan #stonewood #gelfling oc #Agothra #tore #seki #austin

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bcdrawsandwrites · 4 years

Photo

For Unity By @jaywings and me

Rating: T Genre: Friendship, Angst Characters: urGoh, skekGra, skekSil, skekSo, skekTek, skekVar, urVa, urSu, urSol, urZah, possibly others… Warnings: A LOT OF VIOLENCE. Description: One was as vile and repulsive as his brethren. He murdered, and maimed, and reveled in it. The other was as slow and indirect as the rest of his brethren. He hated his dark half as much as the others did theirs. But who they were did not matter, for Thra saw its moment, and seized its opportunity. View all chapters here!

—~~~—

Chapter 4: In Our Arrogance and Delusion Summary: In which the Wanderer and the Conqueror see something that changes everything.

---~~~----

The scent of terrified Gruenak was strong here.

SkekGra tore along the ground, his robes a flash of blood-red in the dim green glow of the tunnels, tail dragging heavily behind him and talons clinking against stone. He flared his nostrils, breathing deeply, but it hardly seemed necessary—the trail continued straight ahead.

His claws kicked up dirt and moss, sharp rocks occasionally cutting into his talon-tips, aggravating the burns on his hands and probably causing them to bleed anew, but he couldn't stop now. The further he ran, the more he could sense the clay-and-metal scent of his prey, still fleeing as far as they could from his advance. The tunnels he followed grew more and more narrow, and several times he found himself having to squeeze through tight passages. Part of him wondered if he was truly going the right way, but the scent of Gruenak only grew stronger—as did, strangely, the scent of fresh air. But how could there could be fresh air this deep underground, unless...?

Anger surged through his veins at the realization—these cowards knew a way out of here and were heading right for it!

Sure enough, he found himself moving up an incline, steeper and steeper with the air feeling fresher and more humid. The tunnels grew slick with mud and rainwater and he nearly slipped at one point, digging his talons into the rock and earth to steady himself before resuming his climb. He was amazed they could have made it this far, but then, these things did live in caves themselves. They probably felt at home here.

Just as he thought the tunnel would never end, it opened up into an enormous cavern, the Gruenak scent hitting him full in the face. He pushed himself back onto his hind legs; rain trickled from above, though this time it did not affect him, for he was on a mission—

But then, he saw… it.

---~~~---

Darkness enfolded urGoh as he ambled into the cave, rendering him blind.

He could not tell how wide this space was. His feet scraped against sharp rocks scattered over the ground, but the area around his arms was empty, he could tell the air did not press in too closely. Just as he was wondering how long this passage was, the space directly in front of him pulled open, flooding the cave with light and his ears with a clanking, whirring noise.

"Hm? AH!"

Startled, urGoh raised his head, looking for the source of the voice; of all things, he hadn't expected to hear such a tiny cry.

The voice’s owner came into view: a simple Podling carrying a feather duster. She crept forward, peered through the doorway at him, and scrambled backward with a loud scream. "AH! NO!"

"Um..." Passing through the door, urGoh watched as the Podling continued to back away from him, emitting a noise that sounded like a cross between a whimper and a growl. He regarded her calmly. "Hello."

That only made the Podling give a startled squawk, which grew in volume as she tripped over a stack of books she had evidently been in the process of reorganizing. Frantically she pushed herself up into a sitting position, and looked over her shoulder as though to check on something.

Following her gaze, urGoh spotted a quietly-snoring form beneath the Orrery: Mother Aughra herself. Or the physical part of her, anyway.

The Podling whipped her head between Aughra and urGoh several times before jumping to her feet and brandishing her feather duster at him with as much ferocity as a Podling could muster. She spoke quickly in her own tongue, and urGoh could only catch a few words: back, Mother Aughra, hurt, harm, monster.

"I am no... monster," urGoh said, taking a step closer, but the Podling only swung her feather duster and snapped something sarcastic and vaguely threatening. "I have come... seeking help."

"NO!" the Podling cried, finally daring to dart closer and bat at him her makeshift weapon.

The feathers tickled urGoh's nose, and he swung his head to the left, then to the right, the wrinkles in his snout deepening.

Shouting triumphantly, the Podling swatted the feather duster at him once more in what she likely hoped was a finishing blow. And urGoh let out a tremendous sneeze, sending the Podling sailing backwards in an explosion of feathers.

He blinked, shaking his mane. "My... apolo... gies."

Now halfway across the room, the Podling dazedly sat up, looked at the empty handle that had once been her feather duster, and gave a cry of despair.

"It is... all... right," urGoh said, moving closer. "I mean... no harm. I merely... need help."

The Podling frowned at him, her eyes narrowed in a challenging expression.

For a split second he nearly told her about the Skeksis going after the Gruenaks, but then he remembered: the Gelflings and Podlings both saw the Skeksis as Lords of the Crystal, as heroes. If he spoke against them, he would be putting his entire cause in danger. Instead, he chose his words carefully. "There are innocent creatures... being hunted... by a monster. A... true monster."

This seemed to catch the Podling's attention, and she carefully rose to her feet. The way she held herself remained cautious, but she no longer seemed to regard him as an open threat, at least.

"I need... something. Something... powerful." Slowly his gaze turned back toward Aughra's unmoving form. "Perhaps... something Mother Aughra... knew about...?"

A quick scan of the room revealed not much of interest. Certainly nothing that could be of use in halting a bloodthirsty Skeksis intent on massacre...

The Podling bit her knuckle in thought at his words, humming. She glanced from him to Aughra again a few times before nodding and toddling off to another part of the Observatory. Every few steps she turned to give urGoh a sharp glare, as though daring him to try anything. Still urGoh remained calm, hoping that whatever she found, it would be something that could truly help him.

The Podling shifted several piles of unorganized objects from one corner of the room before giving a shrill, but triumphant "ah-ha!" Lifting something up, she turned around, presenting it to urGoh with a smug look.

It was a basket of crystal shards.

Curious, urGoh moved closer to her, peering down at the objects. They were all vaguely similar in size and shape, and identical in color, each of them being clear as... well, crystal. The shape reminded him vaguely of the Crystal of Truth itself. But what help would these rocks be?

As though reading his thoughts, the Podling went off talking again, though slowly enough this time that he could pick up more words: Mother Aughra... study... crystals... important...

"What do... they do?" he asked.

The Podling only shrugged with a noncommittal grunt.

Well, if Aughra found these shards to be important, then they must be. With a nod, urGoh reached to pick one of them up, but the Podling yanked the basket backward with an angry retort.

"No!" she cried, holding it high above her head—which was, of course, not actually out of his reach, but he wasn’t about to force the crystals from her. "Nuh-uh! No!" The Podling went on, saying, from what he could tell, that these were Aughra's, and he could not keep them.

"Please," he said, sweeping his tail across the floor in impatience. "Time... is of... the essence."

The Podling frowned, staring down at the basket again and rattling the contents as she carried it around urGoh, so she had a better view of Aughra. She gazed at her for a moment, then back to the basket, and with a grunt set it down in front of him with a clatter. She then held up a finger, muttering that Mother Aughra would probably not miss just one of them.

"Yes. One... will do."

He hoped.

But which one? There were dozens in the basket, and he got the feeling that they were not all the same. He glanced at the Podling, but she didn't seem to know any more about them than he did. He fervently wished he could ask Aughra. Who was he supposed to ask in her stead? Thra itself?

While in thought, his eyes strayed upward to fix on the Orrery, which he had avoided focusing on for as long as he could. Shining, iridescent models of planets and moons swept through the air in infinite spirals, the strange machine clanking away and never slowing. Aughra’s spirit was somewhere out there, exploring and dancing among the stars. With a strange pang of envy, urGoh forced his attention back to the shards. They glittered at his feet, all looking remarkably similar.

He held his hand over the basket and closed his eyes in concentration. At least some of these definitely had magical properties—he could feel his fingertips buzzing.

The little Podling edged closer to him, apparently trying to act nonchalant as though hoping he wouldn’t notice her, before reaching out and prodding one of his lower arms. She jerked backwards and stared at it as though worried it would bite her.

UrGoh merely twiddled the fingers of that hand and smiled at her. “Four arms,” he said. “They are useful for things, like… juggling.” He paused. “If I could… juggle.”

The Podling did not look eased by the attempt at humor. If anything, she looked more concerned.

UrGoh placed a hand on his chest. “I am… urGoh,” he said. “And… you?”

The little caretaker peered at him suspiciously. “Fedle,” she said at last, nodding importantly.

UrGoh inclined his head. “It is an… honor to meet you… Caretaker Fedle.”

The Podling looked slightly taken aback by the greeting, but pleased.

“Doza aminia!” she squeaked, and made a fluttery little bow. A little tentatively, she peered at him and said, “You—urGoh—good?”

He hummed in affirmation, dipping his head again.

Fedle the Podling poked his lower arm again. “No monster?”

UrGoh smiled. “No.”

The Podling stood up straighter with a “hmph!” and gave a sharp nod, seeming to accept his presence at last. “Ta?” she said. “Want ta?”

UrGoh blinked down at her. “That would… be lovely,” he said, and the Podling bustled off to fix the hot drink.

He reached into the basket and fished out a shard—it was warm in his hand. Out of curiosity he clinked it against some of the others, achieving a pleasant noise but nothing overly interesting. Why would Aughra keep a pile of crystal shards in a box?

His thoughts slammed to a halt. Barely moving his head, he glanced slowly from the prone form of Aughra to the rock in his hand.

Crystal shards…

Aughra was looking for the missing piece from the Crystal of Truth.

UrGoh had not been in the Castle when the Crystal had been broken. No Mystic had been—the sixteen survivors had fled for their lives with the few other creatures who had managed to escape the Skeksis’ initial blind, murderous fury. The whole race from the Castle was blurred, indistinct, originating from his first few hours of confusing, terrifying consciousness in this strange new form.

He had not been there to see the Crystal cracked. But he remembered the feeling of it shattering. The entire world had shaken. Great fissures had appeared in the ground and it took him and the rest of his brethren to hold them back with song, to save all of their lives…

Hm… song.

UrGoh hummed a low note, opening his mouth and letting forth a deeper, richer sound, watching the shard in his hand. It seemed to tremble—by the slight clinking from the basket, it sounded as though the others were too. He tried different tones, seamlessly raising and lowering the pitch of his voice until he had to take a breath. Moments after the sound faded, the shards stilled. He stood with the shard held flat on his palm and waited for something miraculous to occur.

“Ta!” a Podling voice said proudly, and he looked down to see Fedle back at his elbow, offering up a steaming cup. It smelled delicious. Not exactly the miracle he was hoping for, though.

“Thank you,” he said, taking the cup and draining half of it in one gulp. He had not realized how thirsty the journey here had made him.

“Stones help?” Fedle asked, sipping from a smaller mug of her own.

UrGoh gave a disappointed sigh, feeling a tinge of frustration. No, the stones were not helping. At his core he felt that he was on the right track. He had been meant to find these shards, but he did not know what to do with them, and he had precious little time if he was to save the Gruenak refugees. If it wasn’t already too late.

Regret pierced his heart like a thorn—that he had sent the creatures away into the caves, that he had not insisted they stay with him at least a little longer. He could even have brought them to the Valley, perhaps, and the others may have let them stay…

As he took another gulp of ta to help him swallow back his guilt, he heard Fedle give an interested hum, and turned to her.

"Juggle?" she asked, waving her free hand casually at him.

“What?” urGoh said distractedly, staring at her, and she pointed to his flat palm. “No, no, I’m… not going to try… juggling…”

He froze.

He hadn't noticed it immediately, calloused as his hands were, but the shard he held was... trembling—no, twitching. Moving of its own accord.

Carefully he set his cup on the floor and closer to watch the crystal shard in his hand. Fedle leaned in closer too, giving an impressed oooo! On a whim, urGoh held the crystal out further, and its twitches grew stronger, until it began to spin.

It spun in the palm of his hand, like an erratic compass. Or perhaps it was a compass? He leaned in even closer, the tip of his snout inches from his hand; quite suddenly, the shard stopped spinning, snapping in one direction and trembling faintly, the long end pointed forward.

Following the point of the shard, urGoh traced his eyes up, but only saw the Orrery. He sighed—he still didn’t understand what meaning one was supposed to derive from the thing, incredible thought it was. He feared he would lose himself if he watched it for too long, and made to turn away.

He could not.

Something within him was... drawn to the Orrery. Everything else around him seemed to slow down, Fedle's curious speech fading into the background, while the enormous contraption before him seemed to speed up. It moved faster and faster, until it should have been nothing but a blur—and yet he was suddenly aware of every turn of the planets, every rotation of the stars, and it made perfect sense.

And then... he saw it.

---~~~---

The cavern before him was enormous, yet it was entirely filled with a system of massive roots that twisted all throughout the cave and over the ground. For a brief moment he wondered what plants these were, only to remember—of course, these were the roots of a sole plant: the Sanctuary Tree.

He’d seen it before, of course. It wasn’t all that impressive—just some massive tree that the Gelflings worshipped or something.

Had this been any other occasion, he may have spent more time looking around the place for treasures or anything else of interest, but right now his mind was set on one thing and one thing only: to find the deserters, and kill them.

Sure enough, they were here—he could see the three of them trying to make their way toward the central mass of roots.

"You!" he cried, and they looked back at him, yelling in horror. "Deserters! Get back here!"

In response, the three began to climb faster, and skekGra once again dropped down on all fours, barreling toward them. But a sudden thought made him take a split-second change of course, and he leaped onto a mass of roots immediately next to the one the Gruenaks were climbing. He scrambled up it, quickly passing the creatures, and drew his largest sword. With a wicked grin, he swung the sword downward, slicing the roots the Gruenak were climbing.

The roots were much, much stronger than he'd anticipated, however, and the blade only went about halfway through.

Before he could fully pull the sword back out to swing it again, the entire cavern began to shake and groan, as though there were something in its depths that were both alive, and massive. It echoed off the walls, seeming to come from all around them at once, and skekGra frantically yanked his sword away and redoubled his grip on the roots, heart pounding. Earthquake?

The Gruenaks had a harder time keeping their balance than he did, and were forced to drop back down onto the solid rock of the caves. At least that meant they were farther from the surface, but the thought that they might escape again made skekGra’s blood boil.

With an enraged cry, he twisted around on the roots and threw himself after them.

But he stumbled to a halt almost at once as his head seemed to fill with noise.

You...

It was a voice. Unfamiliar to him, and seeming to echo throughout the cavern. Frantically he turned his head this way and that, but saw no one other than the Gruenaks, still stunned from the quaking. It didn’t sound like a Skeksis, but if anyone were to witness him here…

"Who's there?" he cried. "Show yourself!"

You can already see me, O dark half of GraGoh…

“Don’t speak that name!” skekGra spat out, hackles raised, his own voice like splintered glass in his ears. He whirled around for the source of the voice, sword poised to kill, but there was nothing to attack. The voice came from nowhere. The only ones around were the three cowering Gruenaks, a few scattered birds fleeing toward the fresh air at the top of the cavern, and the…

...The tree.

The enormous, gnarled trunk and tangled roots suddenly took on a new light, becoming menacing forms that loomed over him rather than a harmless feature of the background. He faced the trunk, teeth bared, but ready solutions to this newfound problem eluded him.

This was ridiculous, of course—no Skeksis would believe in a talking tree—no Skeksis should believe it—

I have merely called you what you are, the voice said.

The words rang in his head, a deep voice-that-wasn’t-a-voice. Speech that came from thought alone. It was a familiar way of speaking—he remembered—as if from a… dream—

“Stop!” He balked, and there was a clatter; he realized his hands were clapped over the sides of his head, and his sword had fallen to the ground. “Lies! Stop speaking! You’re—you’re a tree!”

Well-observed, the voice said mildly. I am able to communicate with very few creatures of Thra. Even Mother Aughra cannot hear my voice. But for some reason you, offworlder, you fractured urSkek—

A harsh sound tore from skekGra’s throat and he ripped his talons away from his head. One flick of his tail and his sword handle was kicked off the ground and back into his claws. He brandished the sword tip at the trunk, pointing it at any spot in the ancient bark that looked vulnerable.

You can hear me.

“I hear nothing!” skekGra growled. He twisted around, eyes flashing, hunting for the Gruenak cowards once again. Whatever was going on, whatever was wrong with him—the strange feelings, the dreams, hearing voices now—it all tied back to them. When they were disposed of this would all be over with.

The Gruenaks had scurried toward the other end of the cavern, either hoping to find another way to climb out or to vanish down the tunnels again. SkekGra scrambled after them, darting in front of them to block their escape and snapping his beak inches from the largest Gruenak’s face. The small group skidded to a halt, looking at him in abject terror.

“You are not going anywhere,” he said lowly. “Not anymore.”

“B-back!” the lead Gruenak barked out at him, one arm spread in an attempt to shield the other two. “Back!”

It pulled a knife from its pocket and brandished it at skekGra. The blade looked like something that might be found on the Skeksis banquet table for cleaning their teeth.

SkekGra’s lips pulled back over his fangs in a smile. He straightened up a bit, fingers twitching on the handle of his own sword. “Look at this,” he said, tilting his head to the side. “Now we can tell those Grottan fools I was provoked.”

He raised his sword, the eyes of the Gruenaks widening in fear. For the briefest instant, he envisioned himself the way they must see him—a creature clothed in red, fangs bared, covered in the green stains of Arathim blood and wielding the weapons that had slaughtered their friends, their family, their entire clan—by Aughra’s eye, he couldn’t have looked more like a monster if he’d tried... But no, wasn’t that the point?

Before he could make a move, the sturdy roots under his feet jerked, casting him to the ground so that he landed hard on his wrist, jolting his already-injured shoulder and sending a flare of pain through his bandaged fingers.

They told you to back away.

The voice was now cold, a hard edge to it. SkekGra clawed his way to his feet, letting out a ragged hiss. The Gruenaks had seized their chance and were running again, clambering over the networked lattice of roots and making their way toward the top. He was after them in a heartbeat, only for the tree roots to retreat under his feet again and throw him once more to the ground.

You will not destroy more lives.

Again he climbed to his feet. Again he was tossed to the ground.

You can hear my voice, false Lord of the Crystal. Thra gave you this gift for a reason.

“I hear nothing!” skekGra shrieked again. He fell onto all fours and sank his claws deep into the thready roots, refusing to be shaken again, and crawled after his prey.

Yet, you respond. So. You obviously can hear. And you know that you cannot be this Conqueror anymore. You can no longer be who you once were.

SkekGra gave a great leap, bounding after the fleeing creatures and cutting off their escape once more, feeling rather like an arduff toying with its prey. He watched the Gruenaks slide back to the ground, breathing hard. “I am the Conqueror! I am a lord of the Crystal of Truth!”

If you are still who you say, then why do these three still live?

“Because I have not yet managed to kill them.” SkekGra dropped back to the ground, his grip tight on his sword and his eyes narrowed to slits.

You have had plenty of chances.

SkekGra bolted after the Gruenaks and ignored the voice. It was not worth conversing with. His prey would not escape again. This all ended here, and there would be no one left to defy him!

Defy him by… running desperately for their lives…

He closed in on the fleeing creatures, and at last, at long last, he snagged the largest by the collar of its shirt and yanked it toward him, the thing letting out a strangled squeal. The other two cried out in horror and huddled together. SkekGra dragged the Gruenak around to face the tree, raising his arm high enough to leave the creature dangling with only its toes brushing the ground.

“You still believe I am not the Conqueror?” he challenged.

You once said you were light-bringers.

The voice was like a slam to his chest and he choked on what he was about to say next, frozen with the struggling Gruenak still in his grasp. “How—”

Pilgrims. Ambassadors. Dazzling travelers from another world, distributors of knowledge and culture. Light-bringers. This is what the urSkeks promised upon arriving through the Crystal.

He knew that phrase. Light-bringers. He remembered the words, on the edge of his mind, fuzzy recollections from centuries ago—millenia—

Where is that light now, you shard of the urSkek? Dwelling in the urRu? Faded entirely? Or do you believe you have the chance to be whole again?

The cavern seemed darker, his vision blurred. He swallowed hard; it was difficult to breathe.

“I am whole,” he said, his voice shaking traitorously. “I am not a half-creature. I am not part of an urSkek—” he spat out the name like a curse— “I am not fractured from anything—I am a Lord of the Crystal, one of the Twice-Nine—I am Skeksis, not URSKEK!”

His mind reeled. Before today he had not heard that name in hundreds of trine, let alone uttered it himself. It repulsed him, it felt vile on his tongue. Yet… in saying it…

There is longing in your voice.

A sob erupted from his chest, and he crumpled in on himself, his grip on his quarry going slack. The Gruenak immediately sensed its opportunity and attempted to break free.

NO! NO!

He gasped, the air painful in his lungs; he snagged the creature’s collar again, straightening back up and fighting to claw his frantic, spiralling thoughts back under control.

“You know nothing, you- you moldering piece of driftwood!” he snarled. His broken voice only served to fuel his anger. “I’ll come back here with a dozen Skeksis—we’ll burn you to the ground until you’re nothing but ash—it’s our right! It’s our duty! We’ll tell the pathetic Grottans that their cursed tree was diseased, rotten to the core, and they will worship the Castle and the Crystal as they should, and the Gruenak worms will be wiped from existence for refusing our rule!”

But you do not have to do this. The tree was speaking quicker now, but softer, more gently. You can be so much more, skekGra. Your Mystic counterpart has given you a fleeting glimpse of how it was on the other side, and you still cling to that image with a desperate hope, whether you acknowledge it or not.

In his mind’s eye he flew back to that moment of contact, the lightning-strike of wholeness he had felt; but also the bottomless, drowning sensation of remorse, a black sea that, once he fell in, he would never be able to emerge from—

The Gruenak in his grasp had stilled, but it was trembling, its eyes darting from skekGra to its fellows, and sweeping around the cavern as though searching for a way out. The other two had backed away but seemed reluctant to escape and leave this one behind. How predictable.

You do not have to do this, the tree repeated. Let them go. Let them go, skekGra.

He looked down at the Gruenak that he still held by the nape of the neck, a shaky breath escaping between his teeth.

You have changed.

His head snapped up, a screeching roar scraping his throat raw. “I have NOT CHANGED! I’ll prove it!”

SkekGra released his hold on the Gruenak’s shirt, dropping it to its knees on the ground. In one smooth motion he swung his sword in an arc and severed the creature’s head from its body.

The cavern rang with silence.

He did not hear the body slump to the ground. All he heard were raindrops and his own breath, sounding extraordinarily loud in his ears. He felt detached from his body; his sword hung limply from his fingers, and he sensed rather than saw the mother Gruenak screaming, holding her child close and hiding his face in her shoulder, shielding his view.

His heart gave a strange lurch. One of them was a childling? Why had he not noticed until now?

Without warning he was yanked backwards and slammed into the tree trunk, the force knocking the breath from him. There was a tightness across his chest—he scrabbled at it to find a vine wrapped securely around him. More flew in from nowhere, wrapping around his arms, legs, and tail, rendering him immobile. His hand strained for his sword but it had fallen, probably when he was snagged by the first vine, and he could not reach the one still sheathed at his back.

“Help!” he cried as soon as he got his breath back, his voice pitifully shrill.

But there was no one around to help him, save for the Gruenak who had just watched him murder her mate.

So. I was wrong.

The voice was loud, now. Thunderously loud, pounding in his head and making him wince. The vines binding his body tightened, and he gasped.

Thra was wrong.

Something caught around his neck.

“No—” He wheezed, struggling against it, tears springing to his eyes—he hadn’t even known that was possible. Through bleary vision he saw the two remaining Gruenaks back away, turning around and vanishing down the tunnel again. Roots grew up over the tunnel entrance, closing it off from him. Not that it mattered now.

The Gruenak he had killed was still sprawled on the ground. SkekGra’s gaze seemed drawn to the still form, unable to tear himself away.

You have done enough.

His counterpart—the light half of the luminous being they had once been—had said that to him, on a blood-drenched battlefield surrounded by slaughtered creatures that had wanted nothing more than to be allowed to live in peace. The words now rang unbidden in his head once more, and would not cease.

He wanted to scream. To yell, to curse until his throat was raw. He wanted to claw at his face and curl up alone in the dark to sort through the tangle of confused images and feelings bombarding his mind, make some amount of sense from it all, but the vine curled tighter around his neck. His vision was going black around the edges.

SkekGra strained weakly against the vines, struggling simply to take a breath. “Have mercy—”

Why should I, when you never did? The voice sighed, sounding drained. I am tired. I am so tired of watching my world be devastated by the likes of your kind. When you met the Mystic by chance, whatever happened between you, all of Thra was shaken. I thought, perhaps, that it was enough.

But I was wrong. A nature such as yours can clearly not be changed. And I am certain that in time, all of Thra would forgive me for this.

The vine constricted around skekGra’s throat so tightly that his eyesight went black and he froze in terror. He was going to die. It was unthinkable. He was going to die, here. He was going to be killed by a tree, in the claustrophobic home of the weakest Gelfling clan on Thra, when no Skeksis had died for five hundred trine.

He was going to die.

He tried to say something, one last plea perhaps, or a curse, or nonsense, but nothing came out but a choked, garbled rasp.

And then the pressure around his neck and body released, and he toppled to the foot of the tree in a heap. The world swam back into focus and he gulped down air, his stomach churning.

But I preserve life, the tree said. I give life, never take it. The voice took on a bitter, scathing tone. That’s for the Skeksis to do, isn’t it?

SkekGra made no response. He wasn’t sure he could move, let alone speak.

So go on, then, if you have not changed. Burn me to the ground. Run after the mother and her child and strike them down, bring yet another species to ruin. Continue on with the destructive cycle trying to sate your unending greed and rot away with the rest of your kind, until this world is dead. Maybe then you will finally understand what you have done.

Or perhaps even that will not be enough.

SkekGra remained still on the ground, his chest heaving in heavy gasps. One of his hands gingerly rubbed at his throat. He made no effort to do anything else, other than to lie prone on the ground, surrounded by the stench of wet dirt and metal mingled with blood.

Still the tree went on. Perhaps you will never understand just what you have been doing to this world. Perhaps you will live your entire life blaming everything else for your problems, or not caring.

Had the tree told him these things mere days ago, he would still be arguing. He would fight through the pain in his throat, continue to scream, and maybe even set the tree on fire himself, as he'd proposed, before going after the remaining Gruenak survivors. But now, he didn't. He didn't answer; he had nothing to say.

It took him a moment to realize the tree had stopped talking. The chamber had gone eerily silent, with the steady fall of rain from the world above the only noise he could hear. He wasn't sure just how long he'd been lying there, still too shocked to move, and for a time he almost wondered if this had all been a dream—if he'd slipped and fallen, cracked his head, and found himself in another nightmare, like the one he'd been in last night.

But then something happened. There was a quiet shifting noise, creaking wood against rough stone, and skekGra lifted his head to see that the tree had uncovered the passage to the tunnel that the Gruenaks had run down.

They've gone that way, if you intend to finish the cruelties you started. The tree sounded… strange, as though unbearably defeated.

"No."

It took him a moment to realize that the word had come from his own throat. But, even realizing that, he made no efforts to take it back.

The tree was silent.

Finally skekGra brought two of his arms beneath his chest, pushing himself upright and fighting to his feet. But he did not continue down the clear path to the survivors.

I suppose they've run too far by now, the tree went on. Though I rarely see a Skeksis give up.

Give up. The phrase burned in his ears, left his stomach feeling rotten. Giving up, failure—these were things he had feared, terrors that lurked at the back of his mind as he went out for conquest after conquest. If he failed, if he gave up, could he really be a Skeksis? Could he truly be the Conqueror? If he dared show his face after such an occurrence, he would surely face punishment.

Yet now, the thought of going after the mother and child again felt... wrong.

And the very idea that it was wrong seemed wrong in and of itself.

But that was how he felt, inexplicable as it was. Slowly he craned his head toward the opened tunnel, and slowly he turned away. "No," he said again, his voice hoarse. "I am not giving up. But I am... not doing this anymore."

Again the chamber was silent. Even the rain outside seemed to quiet.

...Perhaps I was wrong, again?

SkekGra looked at the tree, though there was nothing to focus on; the... object? creature? being? filled up so much of the cavern that it was hard to take it in. But a soft creaking noise caught his attention and he turned toward it, mildly alarmed to see what appeared to be another vine heading in his direction. But this one did not seem malicious—it wasn’t rushing up to strangle him again, as the others had. On top of that, it bore a flower on its end, the petals slowly opening as it neared him.

If you have truly changed, then I have something to share with you. But I can only do so... if you accept.

For a long moment he stared at the flower, and one of his hands found the hilt of a knife.

It would be very, very easy to cut through the vine. Slice the flower clean off, as easily as he had separated the Gruenak's head from its body. One swift movement, and he could effectively refuse the tree's offer, turn around, and go back to chase the survivors, to slaughter the former denizens of this cave, to fight endless battles, as he had for hundreds of trine.

And yet he reached forward with a burned, bandaged hand, and touched the flower.

And then... he saw.

---~~~---

UrGoh couldn't breathe.

He felt as though he were sailing through the stars as he had lifetime upon lifetime ago, the void of space threatening to draw the life out of him, the air out of his lungs—or so he assumed, though it felt more like something was wrapped around his neck, throttling him. Stars and planets sailed past him, and he wondered if he was truly in space, or just enraptured in sight of the Orrery. Everything moved so quickly, and he watched the paths of the heavenly bodies in a daze of wonder, in spite of his pain and discomfort.

UrGoh had not intentionally observed the stars before; he’d avoided looking at them as he traveled by night. He was a Wanderer, not a destination-seeker, and had no need of navigation. The sight of worlds beyond Thra made his soul ache; he felt the prickling at the edges of the crater in his heart, the place where something was missing, had always been missing, and he had always done his best to ignore. So he ignored the stars.

But now they were all around him, and they were beautiful. Like billions upon billions of glimmering crystal shards.

As they moved, three began to stand out, brighter by far than all the rest: the Three Brothers.

When single shines the triple sun...

The suns were drawing nearer and nearer with every rotation. Soon they would be united once more, as they had thousands of trine past—the Great Conjunction was coming soon, and urGoh felt himself overcome with a sense of urgency.

But... urgency for what?

---~~~---

SkekGra's ears were filled with noise.

Impossibly loud, cacophonic noise: screaming, crying, metal clashing, arrows twanging, flesh being pierced and torn. The sounds of battle—something that he should have looked forward to, but now left him feeling unsettled and sick. Above that, however, was the sound of Skeksis laughter, which grew louder and louder until it overtook all other sounds. The screams, in particular, grew quieter and fewer until he could hear them no more.

He saw the faceless, silhouetted forms of eighteen Skeksis bearing staffs and gathered in a tight circle around the Crystal, which glowed brilliantly violet. It was the Ceremony of the Sun, with every one of the Twice-Nine thriving on life given by the Crystal. But the vision was a lie—two of the ones he saw now had not lived to ever take part in the Ceremony, they had been dead for half a thousand trine, though now he could not even tell which ones they were.

SkekGra realized he was holding a hand out to them, stirred with an emotion that… he couldn’t explain.

They don’t even know what will happen.

The Skeksis voices, meanwhile, faltered but then continued to laugh and snort and talk over each other endlessly—bickering, taunting, mocking, gossiping, chattering about weapons, outfits, their latest food craving, and he clasped his talons over his ears, only wanting it to stop.

But the voices only grew louder.

Is this not what you always wanted to hear?

---~~~---

Out of the endless, star-strewn infinity, Thra, an orb of shimmering blue and green, drew closer to him—or did he draw closer to it? Its surface peeled away like a wrapper covering a smooth stone, unfolding before him like a map. He could see every land, every sea, every cave marked in ink, and his eyes took it all in hungrily, trying to commit it to memory—to find every inch of Thra he had not yet explored, so that he could travel there in the future.

But he couldn't. Try as he might to focus on other aspects, he found his eyes drawn to specific points on the map: the Swamp of Sog, The Caves of Grot, the city of Ha'rar, and others. Gelfling civilizations—no, not just civilizations. It was the places the different Gelfling clans lived.

Before him, the map began to distort, warp and tear. Stone-in-the-Wood was ripped away as though shredded by talons, then the Caves of Grot, and on and on, each location torn away, leaving gaping holes. UrGoh reached out with all four arms to grab the missing pieces, but when he tried to place them back, they didn't fit.

Sorrow gripped him, though he did not know why; almost a tear-rending frustration that he should be able to fix this but couldn’t, he had to fix this, and the stars around him were a mocking reminder that once, long ago, he had power that would have allowed him to...

---~~~---

A strange, blue-white light swam in skekGra’s vision. He saw the Castle as if from afar, bathed in the light.

When he suddenly found himself standing in one of the corridors, he was nearly blinded by it, his nostrils clogged with a sickeningly sweet scent reminiscent of decaying flesh. He heard talk and laughter from the banquet hall; peering inside, he found his fellow Skeksis drinking goblets full of luminescent, milky blue-white liquid, laughing and cheering and belching as they gorged themselves and drank. It actually wasn't much different from their usual feasts, and yet... it was. There was something different this time, the others’ behavior more gluttonous, more riotous, more grotesque.

He watched Emperor skekSo spill some of the glowing liquid down his throat, and balked as the entire castle shuddered. Yet none of the other Skeksis seemed to notice. SkekAyuk took a deep swig from his own goblet, and the castle shuddered and groaned again.

What's wrong with you?! skekGra cried out to them. Can't you feel it?

But his voice was drowned out by their endless cheers and chatter.

You shun the triumph of your own kind?

---~~~---

The map drew closer to urGoh, taking him nearer and nearer to the loathed Castle of the Crystal.

He wanted to pull away—he did not want to be anywhere near them—but it only drew him closer, until he saw the inked lines of the castle rise up from the flat surface, folding and unfolding until it was a three-dimensional object—a paper replica of the castle itself. He phased through the walls as though they were smoke, pulled farther and farther into the castle, floating through passages he had the vaguest memories of running down, hundreds of trine ago.

Tumbling through one last wall, he found himself face to face with the Crystal of Truth itself. Unlike the castle walls around him, it was not made of paper—it was real.

He could feel it.

He could feel its pain.

---~~~---

SkekGra tried again to cry out to his brethren to stop as the world convulsed around him, but his voice died in his throat.

Before his eyes, the others had changed. They were not themselves. Or, they were, but they were wrong. They were not... alive. Or they shouldn't be alive. And yet...

Emperor skekSo lifted a glass, seemingly unaware as one of his claws fell out and landed with a splash in the tureen sitting in front of him. SkekEkt's once-beautiful face grew more shriveled and ugly by the second, his hair becoming wiry and gray. SkekSil, seated next to skekTek, suddenly turned with a savagery that even skekGra had not known the slippery Chamberlain could possess and clawed out the Scientist’s eye, then resumed eating as though nothing had happened, leaving skekTek looking stunned with dark blood gushing down his face.

The merrymaking had vanished from their feeding—it now seemed hurried, desperate. And yet the more they ate, the more rotten they became. SkekSo tipped his glass back, frantically licking at the last drops of liquid, but his tongue shriveled and turned to dust. SkekTek, still bleeding, was hastily snapping food off of his plate, even as his robes and flesh seemed to crumble into ash. And skekLach was scooping handfuls of soup into her mouth, taking no heed to the fact that her flesh was melting off her face, dripping down into the very bowl she was drinking from.

SkekGra bolted out of the chamber onto a balcony, caught himself against the wall, and retched.

Again the floor beneath him shook, and when he finally saw why, horror gripped his spine like the long claws of an Arathim. It was not the castle that was shaking and groaning.

It was Thra.

Do you know where your path is heading?

---~~~---

The Crystal blazed before urGoh as he set eyes on it for the first time in five hundred trine. But it was not the Crystal of Truth—not as it was supposed to be. Rather than the brilliant white light it usually gave out, it was a dim, agonized violet hue, full of cracks within and without. For a single moment he even thought he glimpsed the silhouettes of Skeksis gathered around it. It pained his own heart to look upon the very heart of Thra in this state. And then he spotted the hole—the spot where a shard had been broken away.

He placed his hand on his chest, feeling the Crystal's emptiness and incompleteness as though it were his own.

Yet... no, that was not true.

He'd always felt this way.

---~~~---

Everything around the castle was a complete wasteland, with no life growing for miles around. Every time the planet shook and moaned, deep veins opened up in the ground, a violent purple light shining within them. If the desolation around him was a terrifying sight to behold, the dark veins were somehow worse, spreading a poison throughout the already-poisoned land.

And still the other Skeksis sat in the banquet hall, feasting and cheering as they gorged themselves on what was likely the last of their own food supply.

And yet, as much as they ate and drank, nothing would fill them; anything they swallowed spilled back onto the floor as though their skin was vapor. They were all empty. All of them, incomplete.

“Why are you showing me this?” skekGra gasped at last, clutching at his head with both hands. He willed himself to leave the vision, to pull his consciousness from the tree’s grasp, but his feet remained rooted to the castle stone and his talons stayed locked around the center of the flower.

Had this been the terrible tree’s plan all along? To trap him here and torture him with visions of his world and his own kind crumbling to dust?

Do you still feel the longing, you dark shard?

---~~~---

UrGoh found himself once again in front of the desecrated map. It still felt empty, destroyed, and yet placing the locations—the Gelfling clans—back where they once belonged didn't seem to restore it. Uncertain, he placed them all back on top of the map.

To his surprise, the torn corners of each piece seemed to fit together, though they had come from separate places. Curious, he arranged them in the way they now fit, each piece linking together.

Strange... did the map seem more complete now than it did before?

Many things passed before skekGra’s vision as he crouched there, by the wall. He felt as though he had been turned to stone while the landscape around him changed and shifted endlessly, the sky revolving in circles. He thought, vaguely, that this must be how a mountain perceived the world, watching ninets pass like heartbeats and unable to do anything but observe.

Time passed like the shadow of a flier flitting overhead, and around him, the world died.

And he was at the forefront of it all, face streaked with blood that was not his own, directing hordes of Gelfling and the shadowy forms of other Skeksis to slaughter the skittering Arathim, cowering Gruenaks, lumbering Makraks… and when nothing but skeletons and empty shells littered the land they used to inhabit, he saw himself tilt his sword downward, and the Gelflings struck at the Podling villages. The Grottan caves. The Drenchen swamps.

But they were our allies, he thought, bewildered, and to his surprise, almost horrified.

And yet the army grew. SkekGra found his forces joined by creatures the likes of which he had never seen—hulking, soulless things with shells and glowing purple eyes, with enormous claws made for ripping. They knew no fear, no mercy. The perfect weapons.

In the blink of an eye there were no Gelfling left but the Vapra. Then, with a nod and a smile from skekGra, the Skeksis descended on the silver-garmented creatures, their claws ripping skin from bones and wrenching wings from shoulder blades.

Even the Emperor joined in the attack, beak split with harsh cackles. SkekGra turned his head away. There must be a reason for this.

He saw Mother Aughra, asleep underneath her ever-revolving mechanical Orrery, unaware of the tragedies, her soul free to wander the stars forever while her body gathered dust on a dying world.

You know the only way to end this. You have always known, but no one dares to speak it.

---~~~---

The shard that urGoh had taken from Aughra’s store was still held flat in his palm. As he watched, it spun wildly, so fast that he could not tell one end from the other—it had become one, a circle.

It lifted from his hand until it hovered in front of his eyes, in front of the completed map, brighter than any of the stars around him. Brighter, it seemed, than the Crystal of Truth in its full glory.

The light tickled faded memories at the back of his mind. He thought that he himself might have glowed like this, once. It was a light that would carry him home.

And then the light began to burn.

---~~~---

A thousand years had passed since the terrible split. And three suns came together, the third Great Conjunction skekGra had witnessed on this world.

As the light shone bright, the other ones entered the castle of their own accord—the beady-eyed creatures, the urRu, shambling across the stone floor with heads lowered and tails dragging, nothing left to protect.

The Crystal had called them here, but there was no triumph for them. It was skekGra himself who locked them away.

He saw, one last time, his brethren gathered along the banquet table, laughing and shoving food into their beaks, their flesh dripping from their putrid faces like the skins of spoiled fruit. It was only when skekSil leaned back in his chair that skekGra saw what he hadn’t before—that sitting in his own place at the table was a shell of himself, gaping black holes where his eyes should be and his armor rusted and chipping away, his beak open and laughing with the others, rotting with them. He remembered urGoh the Wanderer, locked away forever beneath the ground in pitch darkness with the other Mystics.

So this was how it would look. The great and powerful Skeksis, the immortal overlords of a dead world, with no one left to rule.

This can’t be the future.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, his double at the table raised its head and fixed skekGra with a stare, its empty sockets locked on his own eyes.

This is the only future.

---~~~---

He jerked backward, heart throwing itself against his ribs like a relentless drum, thrumming an impossible two beats for what should be every one.

He felt raindrops pattering onto his face, and the slight breeze from the mechanical wonder whirling above him; raising his head, he saw the twisting tree trunk against weak sunlight, the same light that filtered through the crystal ceiling and reflected off the shining metal representations of the planets in orbit.

His eyes flicked downward, where he saw a crystal shard in his hand, as well as a puddle of dark, glistening blood pooled among the gnarled roots of an ancient tree. Two reflections gazed at him at once, one from the crystal and one from the blood on the ground.

Do you now understand?

Two reflections, but one body. One mind.

“Never,” said one.

“I won’t,” said the other. “I can’t.”

Then you’ve already seen your future.

With a final, desperate surge of strength, he at last tore himself away, and blinked his own eyes.

And then he crumbled, and the world fell into blackness.

#skekgra #urgoh #the dark crystal #the dark crystal age of resistance #my writing #fanfic #for unity #so exciteda about this chapter!!

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