Content salvage

It's high time to blawg in Spanish, so I'm scrapping the Windows Space I was previously using as a rarely-updated diary of my flounderings as an awkward writer. In it is preserved three okay pages of writing, and one title and URL which unless the people who wrote the thing that inspired it want it, I want I want I want. I still love the URL 14by19ftdragons and the title The Surface Area of Dragons: The Evolution of a Writer. I may have to revive it, but when I have more time.
So: Content salvage. There are three posts of five worth saving. Here they are.

From April 9th:
Title: Drabbles on Seradoc and the nature of gods vs. mortals.
Text:

Newest writings/drabbles: three pages in the Dæ^hishara multiverses written last night- a dialog between Seradoc and a rather snippy Tabita; something on the eyes of gods moving onto how said eyes influence the fact that a ridiculous amount of girls fall for said cat god; and something that starts as a note of Seradoc's habit of tangling the strings of the fates which, among other things, produces people torn between realms, moving onto the impossibility of justice for those people.

1. "She loves you," Tabita didn't have to say. She did, though. If she didn't, things might've been different. "We both know what will happen."
   "Do tell," Seradoc said sharply. His voice, though calm, was icy; his hands clenched behind his back, which she could've seen: he wouldn't face her. But she didn't; she didn't need to. She made a note of it for future reference.
   "She'll have her 'love', for a while," she continued, her voice brittle. "You'll have to go - she'll understand, of course - there will be tears - reassurances - cliches.
   "Eventually you'll be gone for good, and her world will end up with a few more heroes; I can't see why we need so many. Humans just can't seem to work out their own affairs.
   "That's how it always ends up, isn't it?"
   "We're a dying breed, Tabita," he said distantly, looking somewhere else, sometime else perhaps. "The worlds need more gods that don't depend upon belief as we do. Humans don't want to believe anymore. It's dangerous to their comfort... and to their sanity."
   "Which is?" Tabita couldn't help asking. "To believe, or not to believe?"
   "Both..." His reply came distantly to her still-human ears. The man she had been talking to wasn't there any more. A black cat in a hurry pushed past her ankles.
   "You just keep telling yourself that," she instructed the empty air.
   "And I rather pity her, when it all comes down to emotions," she added some time later, in case he would deign to hear. "I must be too compassionate. I can't imagine how Hera must've felt, I really can't."
   
   This one I have some idea of what to do with: it may be the vision that will distract Elshara so she can run into the cart and find the paper that, by all accounts, should've turned to mush on which the title of the series is written. The others I am less sure what to do with; 3 may be something Tabita says, it sounds a bit like her. But to who? I need Elshara to know it...
   
   
2. There is a certain quality in the eyes of gods that those of undiluted mortals simply can't compare to, and which is rather hopeless to describe.
   There are eternities of history that they could change at will to fit their fancies spoken of in those eyes; shifting stars that can and have ensnared people, humans the most; make them ridiculously happy or cause utter despair. Their eyes have too much power for their own good, and often act on intentions and impulses in the younger gods who haven't learned to control them yet. Younger relatively, of course; though some act like children at times the utter inhumanity (to humans, of course) is glaringly obvious and rather disturbing: these, though they may take familiar shapes, do not play by the same rules we do.
   Therefore, it really isn't surprising how, despite her best efforts - or perhaps because of them: I cannot fathom gods' minds, I merely create and transcribe them - Elshara fell head-over-heels for a god who, among other things, was her perhaps not-so-distant ancestor.
   Many girls did, would, could and most likely will fall for him, ancestor or not.
   It was in many cases not only utterly improper and rather unwise, of course, but rather impossible to boot.
   I very much doubt he minds.
   
   This is an important drabble, but I have honestly no idea where to put it. I love it; it's a perfect example of what my writing aspires to be, and imho, it's pretty good to boot. Maybe it'll get me a book deal (hint, hint, nudge, nudge)? There, in one sentence, is outlined the dream of all obsesionists of at least one canon, - possibly excluding major religions but I can never be sure - the fantasy ones are the best inspiration in that respect, I've found.
   
   
3. Seradoc has an unfortunate habit of going and playing with the strings of the Fates. When they come to be angry in his general direction for the frazzled and pocketed mess he has turned one of their tapestries into - pulling and clawing and unraveling- he will look up with a wide-eyed guiltless expression (when it comes to looking guiltless, even toddlers and kittens cannot compete to him) - as if he honestly doesn't know why he is being bustled out by a huffy Fate. He will be back. Cats are like that, and at heart he is a cat, even if he often favors human form; the result of the unravelings that great cat does are many of the inconsistencies of history. They ofter appear sarcastic.
   One cannot expect gods to act by the same varying standards of decency one can expect of mortals; to judge a god by the same standards as a mortal would not only be unfair, it would be downright foolish.
   Woe betides those who are caught between the worlds. No one can judge them rightly; all judgements passed upon them are wrong.
   Justice is a laughable mockery, my dear.
   
   I think I should have Tabita tell Elshara this: I can imagine her saying most of it, but... when in the seven hells would she have the opportunity though? I don't want to mess around with my own canon.

Title: They're REAL
Text:

During a recent RP (the pictures are in your heaaaaaad...) I had my character summon all of the Dæ^hishara gods. It nearly killed her, she had a fangirl fit and though Tabita managed to deck the bad guy with a cello, he's still out there...
My character had a fangirlish fit for a good reason.
I've summoned them. There's no going back.

They're REAL now...

This may seem like a mere flight of fancy, but I can feel that it's ever so much more. I think I'm caught in something rather more powerful then even I; I say I'm powerful because these gods I made? They were able to hit what was essentially a devil over the head with a cello.
Summoning takes an amazing amount of energy, but since it was only a game I didn't in a million years expect to be tired. But I'm nearly exhausted. It's probably nullified a bit because others tried to take some of it, but... ye gods.
What in the seven hells am I, that I'm able to do this?

There you go. I'm sorry, the formatting sucks, I know.

And I'm sorry, I'm a miserable slacker. Today we had an odd day though, so I'll try to catch up on blogging today and tommorrow, perhaps even introduce my dear Ipso Facto, an entirely new and unmentioned character who, I bet, would not recognize Ipso Facto's own self if presented with my point of view.