Octogram Worthless Wordslinger
Posts : 1 Join date : 2017-07-08
| Subject: Anti-Metaphysics Wed Jul 19, 2017 1:59 am | |
| Horses are for chumps.“Hey, Manne.”
“Aye, sire?”
“Are you really a figment of my imagination?”
“Indeed I am, sire. However, that isn’t the whole truth. I am a gift from thine grandfather, for he wished to protect you. M’patrone did naught but take the clay and give it form.”
“L’Inferno, I tell ya. Does papa really think such a slag-faced wimp of me?”
“His Emminence The Carpenter deems thyself immature – and, frankly, his judgement is not only pertinent, but ubiquitous.”
“Porcolinno… Does everyone really think that? Even the rest of la famiglia?”
“T’is crystal clear, sire. Thine actions are likely the catalyst of such mass calumny.”
“Ei, s’because of my perspicacia and spirito that you’re here, Manne.”
“Thine reasoning is not wrong, sire, yet t’is also unidimensional.”
“ ‘ey, y’know what they say. ‘From a line come the infinite planes that form space’, eh? Ehehe!”
“While that’s not incorrect, it’s not a suitable perspective, patrone.”
“Capaccio…” … “This journey isn’t gonna be worth a flying burro, I tell you.” Then again, so are camels.The teenage boy’s long, curly locks moved little with the breeze from how clumped together they were. The setting sun turned their bleach-pink color into something nearing the obscene reds. His garbs were antithetical, as they were half-navy blue, half-soft crimson – colors unbefitting of a kid his age. His jester’s hat – colors alternate to his sleeveless jacket – tried its hardest to jingle, but its nigh-parasitic fixation to the lad’s head prevented its tendrils from rattling much. The boy’s long-sleeved, ivory-colored Mediterranean shirt helped keep him safe from the cold of the springy plain’s plain spring – at least, until the Sun called in sick once again for the next twelve hours.
His mount was abnormal – a square carpet with a lot of leftover cloth around its main frame, draping in all directions as a wannabe-tunic-that-couldn’t. Its violet tints reminisced the likes of the blood one’d find under its foot if you accidentally squished a marine worm, hands-free. Its means of locomotion were also unorthodox – four appendages, all of parallelepipedal girth, with flat, stubby tips, to ensure optimal support. The texture of its tentacles and cloth-covered body was that of factory-processed cellulose, and its smoothy, brown-red coloration seemed to nearly break the realm of possibility in how it almost seemed to achieve fuchsia. Atop the platform was the truly loyal offspring of the true mastermind behind this odd-yet-not-at-all-odious odyssey; a cyan-glowing sphere of cyanese green. Despite the only visible feedback coming from it being changes on where its glow concentrated, it seemed to distract the boy immensely – by being a babble-buddy, no less. Still, there was little more to this steed – just amore. | |
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Shadow-Heart Amateur Author
Posts : 2649 Join date : 2013-08-20 Age : 35 Location : The Chaos Realm
| Subject: Re: Anti-Metaphysics Wed Jul 19, 2017 8:26 am | |
| That was quite colorful D:
I can jiggle my locks though. Then again mine are light weight and not that much in volume //>__>
Just don't let yourself lose track of the story while generating too much outside detail, description... is what a journalist once told me. | |
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Prisma*Illya Paramount Pagemaster
Posts : 34034 Join date : 2013-07-11 Age : 33 Location : The Unreachable Utopia
| Subject: Re: Anti-Metaphysics Wed Jul 19, 2017 9:15 am | |
| Wow, that's... pretty out-there lol.
I did like this line: "until the Sun called in sick once again for the next twelve hours." _________________ ~The Ruin of Camelot~ | |
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