Post by Dream on Jun 4, 2006 16:44:06 GMT -5
The Last Fanfictioneers
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Writing NTWF-themed stories is curiously addictive. I have a nasty feeling that this isn't very original, but I'm going to start it anyway.
Sorry it doesn't look very NTWF at the moment. All will be explained.
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Chapter One:
The New Normal
----------
Lydie folded her coat over one arm as the clock over her head struck seven. It was time to leave work, finally. The teenager’s job at the Neopian Bank was certainly a high-paying position, but no-one would say it was the most fascinating job in the world—except, maybe, the Bank Skeith. To be frank, Lydie liked it that way. The last thing she really wanted was an exciting life. Picking up her belongings, she hurried down the stairs and out into Neopia Central. Already the streets were jammed with people and pets on their way home.
As Lydie passed the offices and shops near to where she worked, she caught sight of a small wooden stand. A Kau stood behind it, waving a small paper bundle in his outstretched hooves. “Neopian Times! Buy your Neopian Times today!”
At first, Lydie made as if to walk past the stall. Then, pulling out a fraction of her pay, she moved over to the seller. “I’ll take…” She fingered the coins. “Four copies, please.” The tiny teenager’s smile reassured the surprised Kau. “I have lots of well-read pets, and none of them can bear to wait for the others to finish.”
The Kau obligingly handed the papers to Lydie, who paid the money before walking carelessly around the nearest corner, into a shadowed alleyway. Reaching into her back pocket, she pulled out a battered, creased scrap of paper, looking at it for a moment before drawing out a box of matches.
“Here you go,” Lydie whispered, apparently to the empty air, and lit the newspaper in one smooth movement. It flared brightly at her feet, lighting Lydie’s blue eyes with an odd glow. “Pity we can’t do the same to that Sunbeam and her silly headquarters.”
The eyes of the figure in the crumpled photograph seemed to reproach her.
“Sorry, Mum,” she sighed. “I didn’t really mean that. Well, maybe I did, but I won’t say it again.” Picking up the picture, she turned her back on the smouldering newsprint and walked away, looking for all the world as if she had nothing to do with the burning Neopian Times that lay behind her, but with a lighter heart.
The Art Catacombs were Lydie’s destination. Jumping the last two stairs and landing on the tiles in her bare feet, she looked like any other Neopian in a hurry to get to the Coffee Shop, or restock for a collectable coin—the two main functions of these old caverns. In actual fact, her goal was somewhat different.
Close to the back wall of the catacombs, she pulled a small pen from amongst her belongings. It had the form of a feather, and might once have been white before time took its toll on it. Taking a deep breath, Lydie recited a spell in a whisper. At once, the world around her appeared different; no longer so solid and inflexible. Making sure no-one was watching, the young girl climbed through the stone wall and into the narrow stairwell behind. No-one would have questioned her disappearance, which was a normal Crossing, but they would have had something to say about her destination.
Sitting on the stone steps for a moment to take the breath she’d held, Lydie listened to the sounds she knew so well: the constant hissing and clanking from somewhere not far off in one direction, the normal bustle of the Neopian crowds in the other. She turned, replacing the feather in her hand with a small metal key, and inserted it into the worn lock of the unremarkable wooden door in front of her.
“Who’s that?” a voice called, heard only by Lydie’s ear posed against the wood. “Chirp, get the door.”
“I’m always getting it these days,” another unseen person complained. “All right, I’ll check the camera. Oh, it’s only Lydie.”
“Well? You are my student,” retorted the first, as the door swung open in front of her. “I’ve been on duty all day and I’m pretty much dog-tired—oops, sorry, Lydie.” These last words followed the involuntary shiver of terror that had momentarily frozen Lydie to the spot. Recovering, she shut the door behind her.
Inside, a handful of people—the only word that could be applied—looked up from writing-desks and makeshift seats. Some held pens and brushes; others were simply reading through typed documents. They were all vaguely human, but some had wings, claws, feline ears, and others were engaged in what was obviously magical work at their desks. This place, nondescript though it may have been and with an atmosphere of some long-abandoned office or schoolroom, was the mini-dimension that Lydie called home.
As she entered the room, a slender figure threw itself at her, enveloping her desperately in its arms and butterfly wings. The tearful, blonde-haired girl collapsed at her friend’s feet, sobbing uncontrollably. “Lydiiiie… Lydie!”
“Ishan?” Lydie picked the winged girl off the floor clumsily. “Ishan, what’s wrong?”
“They… Sunbeam… He’s gone…” Ishan clung to Lydie’s arm. “Vellan. He’s gone.”
“Gone?” Lydie gulped. “You don’t mean…”
“No.” Ishan managed a very faint smile, still holding tightly to Lydie. “He’s l-lost his Crossing Permit. He says he’ll try and get it back, but it isn’t looking very likely, and he’s stuck in R-space without it.”
“Oh, Ishan.” The two girls hugged each other for a moment, then Ishan turned away, awkward.
“I shouldn’t be putting all this on your shoulders,” she apologised quietly, stepping back. “You of all people.”
“Why not? Vellan is… he was… your husband,” Lydie replied, her hand stroking the teenager’s delicate faerie wings.
“I know. And you shouldn’t b-be listening to this, the day before you and Rach…”
“Oh… Rach!” In the commotion, Lydie had forgotten. Jumping to her feet, she began asking a stream of questions, as much out of her own curiosity as to cheer up Ishan. “You mean they got to publish my piece? Then…! Is it soon? What did we arrange?”
“It’s tonight at midnight,” Ishan nodded, her tears drying as she began to get caught up in her own excitement. Despite herself, her happiness was returning on such an occasion. “Come on, quick! We have to get you ready!”
-----
TBC. Thoughts welcome.
---------
Writing NTWF-themed stories is curiously addictive. I have a nasty feeling that this isn't very original, but I'm going to start it anyway.
Sorry it doesn't look very NTWF at the moment. All will be explained.
--------
Chapter One:
The New Normal
----------
Lydie folded her coat over one arm as the clock over her head struck seven. It was time to leave work, finally. The teenager’s job at the Neopian Bank was certainly a high-paying position, but no-one would say it was the most fascinating job in the world—except, maybe, the Bank Skeith. To be frank, Lydie liked it that way. The last thing she really wanted was an exciting life. Picking up her belongings, she hurried down the stairs and out into Neopia Central. Already the streets were jammed with people and pets on their way home.
As Lydie passed the offices and shops near to where she worked, she caught sight of a small wooden stand. A Kau stood behind it, waving a small paper bundle in his outstretched hooves. “Neopian Times! Buy your Neopian Times today!”
At first, Lydie made as if to walk past the stall. Then, pulling out a fraction of her pay, she moved over to the seller. “I’ll take…” She fingered the coins. “Four copies, please.” The tiny teenager’s smile reassured the surprised Kau. “I have lots of well-read pets, and none of them can bear to wait for the others to finish.”
The Kau obligingly handed the papers to Lydie, who paid the money before walking carelessly around the nearest corner, into a shadowed alleyway. Reaching into her back pocket, she pulled out a battered, creased scrap of paper, looking at it for a moment before drawing out a box of matches.
“Here you go,” Lydie whispered, apparently to the empty air, and lit the newspaper in one smooth movement. It flared brightly at her feet, lighting Lydie’s blue eyes with an odd glow. “Pity we can’t do the same to that Sunbeam and her silly headquarters.”
The eyes of the figure in the crumpled photograph seemed to reproach her.
“Sorry, Mum,” she sighed. “I didn’t really mean that. Well, maybe I did, but I won’t say it again.” Picking up the picture, she turned her back on the smouldering newsprint and walked away, looking for all the world as if she had nothing to do with the burning Neopian Times that lay behind her, but with a lighter heart.
The Art Catacombs were Lydie’s destination. Jumping the last two stairs and landing on the tiles in her bare feet, she looked like any other Neopian in a hurry to get to the Coffee Shop, or restock for a collectable coin—the two main functions of these old caverns. In actual fact, her goal was somewhat different.
Close to the back wall of the catacombs, she pulled a small pen from amongst her belongings. It had the form of a feather, and might once have been white before time took its toll on it. Taking a deep breath, Lydie recited a spell in a whisper. At once, the world around her appeared different; no longer so solid and inflexible. Making sure no-one was watching, the young girl climbed through the stone wall and into the narrow stairwell behind. No-one would have questioned her disappearance, which was a normal Crossing, but they would have had something to say about her destination.
Sitting on the stone steps for a moment to take the breath she’d held, Lydie listened to the sounds she knew so well: the constant hissing and clanking from somewhere not far off in one direction, the normal bustle of the Neopian crowds in the other. She turned, replacing the feather in her hand with a small metal key, and inserted it into the worn lock of the unremarkable wooden door in front of her.
“Who’s that?” a voice called, heard only by Lydie’s ear posed against the wood. “Chirp, get the door.”
“I’m always getting it these days,” another unseen person complained. “All right, I’ll check the camera. Oh, it’s only Lydie.”
“Well? You are my student,” retorted the first, as the door swung open in front of her. “I’ve been on duty all day and I’m pretty much dog-tired—oops, sorry, Lydie.” These last words followed the involuntary shiver of terror that had momentarily frozen Lydie to the spot. Recovering, she shut the door behind her.
Inside, a handful of people—the only word that could be applied—looked up from writing-desks and makeshift seats. Some held pens and brushes; others were simply reading through typed documents. They were all vaguely human, but some had wings, claws, feline ears, and others were engaged in what was obviously magical work at their desks. This place, nondescript though it may have been and with an atmosphere of some long-abandoned office or schoolroom, was the mini-dimension that Lydie called home.
As she entered the room, a slender figure threw itself at her, enveloping her desperately in its arms and butterfly wings. The tearful, blonde-haired girl collapsed at her friend’s feet, sobbing uncontrollably. “Lydiiiie… Lydie!”
“Ishan?” Lydie picked the winged girl off the floor clumsily. “Ishan, what’s wrong?”
“They… Sunbeam… He’s gone…” Ishan clung to Lydie’s arm. “Vellan. He’s gone.”
“Gone?” Lydie gulped. “You don’t mean…”
“No.” Ishan managed a very faint smile, still holding tightly to Lydie. “He’s l-lost his Crossing Permit. He says he’ll try and get it back, but it isn’t looking very likely, and he’s stuck in R-space without it.”
“Oh, Ishan.” The two girls hugged each other for a moment, then Ishan turned away, awkward.
“I shouldn’t be putting all this on your shoulders,” she apologised quietly, stepping back. “You of all people.”
“Why not? Vellan is… he was… your husband,” Lydie replied, her hand stroking the teenager’s delicate faerie wings.
“I know. And you shouldn’t b-be listening to this, the day before you and Rach…”
“Oh… Rach!” In the commotion, Lydie had forgotten. Jumping to her feet, she began asking a stream of questions, as much out of her own curiosity as to cheer up Ishan. “You mean they got to publish my piece? Then…! Is it soon? What did we arrange?”
“It’s tonight at midnight,” Ishan nodded, her tears drying as she began to get caught up in her own excitement. Despite herself, her happiness was returning on such an occasion. “Come on, quick! We have to get you ready!”
-----
TBC. Thoughts welcome.