DREAMS of a CLOUD
Peruse the many random ramblings of a writer-in-training as I build stories and develop my craft.
1 May 2023
Fynn called out to his old friend, with just a touch of suggestion laced into the words; he needed David’s help, and on the off chance he was still sore about what happened last time, a little… persuasion could go a long way. “Good day, old friend! How goes the farm?”
To Fynn’s surprise, the magic found now purchase in the young man, sliding right off him like water from a leaf in a rainstorm. The young man turned and gave him a puzzled look. “Do I… know you?”
I’ve always found fae fascinating. Deals, exact words, true names… I don’t know that I’ll do much more with these characters; perhaps finish this scene/short story, and leave it at that. But who knows? We’ll see.
The clank of a blacksmith’s hammer rang over the homestead. Fynn didn’t recognize the old man, though something did seem familiar about him. After looking around for a bit, Fynn finally found David. He called out to his old friend, with just a touch of suggestion laced into the words; he needed David’s help, and on the off chance he was still sore about what happened last time, a little… persuasion could go a long way. “Good day, old friend! How goes the farm?”
To Fynn’s surprise, the magic found now purchase in the young man, sliding right off him like water from a leaf in a rainstorm. The young man turned and gave him a puzzled look. “Do I… know you?”
Concern tickled at Fynn’s heart, but he hid it behind a jovial laugh. “Come now, David! Surely there are better times for games!”
Behind him, the clank of the hammer stopped. The blacksmith spoke, his voice low and gravelly. “Leave my son out of your schemes, Fynnelion Summerchild.”
Fynn was rocked to his core. Those words carried power, especially with the use of Fynn’s true name. What’s more, Fynn realized why the old man looked familiar. He spun slowly to face the blacksmith. “David?”