by MillietheWarrior » 05/02/2012 2:36 AM
Shieba:
(Ahem. Long post is long.)
The Panlong chuckled softly. “You are a strange one, little fox. I am sorry I have taken the babies from their mothers. They will be returned, of course. I will protect them from afar, if I must. I only thought I was doing them some good by keeping them safe.” He hung his head as the baby ducks swam in circles around the massive dragon, then shot off towards the group of ducks behind Mortimer and Laksimi. “Do not worry. I won’t tell anyone about your secret.” He seemed less menacing now, his face and eyes full of sadness. “It is not the Socross; he is actually the caretaker of this land. But he isn’t around very often, and he has more pressing matters to attend. I am sure he would be worried if he knew about the bridge and the ducks.” He lowered his head so it was level with the water. “Mortimer?” he looked amused as the duck fluffed himself up indignantly. “Can you aid me?”
Mortimer was subtly chewing some of the bread, but swallowed quickly (The baby ducks had devoured the rest when they’d swam by; he’d have to remember to ask for more) and spoke. “Well…yes. I can. But I’ll need all the ducks.” He quacked extra loud, fluffing his feathers up as a gaggle of multiple ducks suddenly swam over from the other side of the stream where they’d been watching curiously. The ducks were all varying shades of different colors, most of them normal (though a few here and there had odd speckles of splashes of color on their underbelly). Mortimer qucked at them, and as one, the group quacked back, all turning towards the Panlong, who looked expectant. As one, the ducks raised their wings and began flapping, stirring up quite a ruckus of water and…something else?
The great dragon rose up, staring down at the ducks who began to wave their feathers and wings around. A great light enveloped the serpent, who closed his eyes with a smile as the magic wound it’s way around his form. Mortimer’s beak opened, and he began chanting; “Great bells and tripods, beautiful vessels, works of art. The mountain dragon, or pheasant, and all animals of variegated plumage, the aquatic grass, flamboyants and grains of cereals engraven, one symbol interwoven with another. The sleeping rhinoceros and crouching tiger, the dragon, wreathed in coils wrought. Dragons which do not yet ascend to heaven; dragon coiled in the mud will be insulted by a newt; a sage will be ridiculed by a fool; the dragon greatly trusted in its lair, leaped in its pool where a mirror, adorned on the backside with a coiled dragon will be worshiped.”
As he spoke, the dragon glowed, it’s scales taking on an unnatural sheen of silver and metal. As they watched, it’s body began to shrink, splitting off into four separate, smaller parts. It lost the form of a serpent, instead materializing into giant circles of silver and molten metal. As the duck waved it’s feathers and winds, the dragon ascended from it’s four separate areas, and shot towards the four corners of the bridge. The wooden planks slowly began to reform, hardening and repairing themselves. The hand rails were no longer broken and falling apart. The sakura tree that grew beside the bridge suddenly bloomed and sprung to life, the petals floating harmlessly and beautifully down across the bridge and water. The empty pedestals that sat on either side of the bridge were suddenly occupied by small, silver dragon statues. On each dragon’s face, there was a smile, and a look of peace.
Mortimer turned to Laksimi, and frowned. “Check under that bridge,” he instructed. “It looks like the dragon might’ve left something.” Indeed, it seemed as though when the dragon disappeared, something had appeared in his place beneath the bridge. It looked very strange, and seemed to be…what exactly was it doing? It was hard to tell unless you were up close.
I love adventurous tales like that. That uplifting feeling that comes from seeing unknown lands and the knowledge that you came across—nothing can replace it! It opens a path from which self-confidence, experience, and important friendships—from the sharing of life or death situations—are born! But hearing it just isn’t the same. I want to create my own magnificent story!
A great adventure! +Imp. Documents+ +Menagerie+ +Wishlist+ +Journal+