Les Mystérieuses Cités d'Or

Tu lis bien vite, toi qui mitraille tes réponses entre une douzaine de sujets en quelques minutes! De quoi me rendre jaloux.

Je ne vois pas pourquoi. Et puis c'est que j'adore tes histoires.

J'ai encore deux trois trucs à faire et pas mal de dépression en ce moment, donc faudra patienter un peu en attendant princessrana.odt.

Donc pour le moment, voilà un moodboard sur Après la Pluie.

Je dois dire que j'ai beaucoup aimé l'écrire. Proposer à mon tour une vision de la saison 4, même si l'histoire en elle-même serait plutôt une saison 5. Et puis après tout, Esteban et la dépression c'est un mariage bien connu du Discord.

Tiens d'ailleurs, en voilà d'autres sur les personnages de Karsha et Herwa. Parce que y'a pas de raison, c'est cadeau. Pis je les aime bien, ces personnages, they are babie. and giving my kin a boyfriend totally isn't shameless dreamboating. jfais cque jveux. kestuvafer.




Peut-être que j'en ferais pour The Condor's Last Flight aussi. Ou bien si vous avez des suggestions. J'aime bien faire des moodboards, c'est un exercice de recherche google.

Comme c'est beau !

Et puis merle. En voilà d'autres sur The Condor's Last Flight; avec en prime, les commentaires du DVD.


"Le Dernier Vol du Condor" est en quelque sorte la fin d'une ère. Dès le début, je savais comment Condorswap se finirait: les angoisses d'un Esteban immortel condamné à voir ses amis mourir, son corps se dégrader, ses souvenirs s'effacer sans qu'il n'y puisse rien. À cela, j'ai voulu ajouter ce que donnerait le monde de la série à l'époque moderne: certes, c'est celui qu'on connaît, mais les théories du complot genre l'Atlantide, les anciens astronautes et les sociétés secrètes existent vraiment, même si les Cités n'ont jamais été réunies. Les choses ont changé, mais dans le fond elles restent similaires.

Toutefois, plus je relis cette histoire, et plus je me rends compte d'à quel point c'est du venting. Les idées suicidaires d'Esteban, la vie difficile de Tina, Leon et sa quête d'identité. L'art c'est ça, aussi. Je trouve que ça rend bien l'idée: ce monde est déprimant, on se cherche sans se trouver, et tout garde un goût d'inachevé qui ne finit jamais. Mais il y a des bons moments.

Et des persos attachants. Si Karsha est mon copain idéal, Leon est tout simplement mon animal spirituel. Franchement, j'ai adoré écrire ces deux-là, faire écho aux relations de la Team Condor dont j'avais un peu fait le tour.



Je vais pas faire de suite. L'histoire de Condorswap est terminée, et celle qui a commencé est une toute autre. À trop s'étendre sur des OCs, on finit par se demander si c'est vraiment du MCO qu'on lit. *shudders.*
Ca, et la flemme.

Bravo Sandentwins !!!!!!!

Alright!

Je vais pas m'embêter. Je commence une toute nouvelle continuité, comme j'ai voulu faire il y a déjà un bon moment. On va se pencher sur une théorie à la cocaine qui donne un truc tout rempli d'intriguérences, ce à quoi je réponds que je suis la princesse Rana'Pétay et que je fais qu'est c'que j'veux.

Et oui, encore de l'anglais. Parce que je fais qu'est c'que j'veux.



The Daughter of the Sands

Chapter 1: Where the White Birds Stand

The walls trembled. The ground shook. Everything around them was but a chaos of noises sounding out and machinery going haywire, as the destruction protocols engaged.

Zia tried to move. Around the room, the various devices have started to dysfunction, as if they were going insane. Enraged by the sudden arrival of a new entity, the City was rejecting it, rejecting this wound that's just been carved into its living, beating heart. It screamed without a voice, thrashed around like an injured animal, and the children could feel it all around them.

“We have to leave! Come on!!”

Laguerra's voice surprised Zia when she heard it. When did she get here? How much time had elapsed since the beginning of the destruction? She couldn't know. The fifth City was breaking loose, the rich decorations falling from the ceiling and crashing onto the dozens, hundreds of machines laid about the hall. Zia tried to walk out of their way, to not get crushed alive by beams and bird statues, but she couldn't muster the strength to move. She was in shock, as if it were her own heart that had just been stabbed into. Why? What was going on? Why couldn't she run?

She felt Tao grab her arm, and she followed behind him as he dragged her out of the falling debris. In the clash of metal against glass and foliage, she started to hear it: a voice, a deep and foreign voice screaming out. It was coming from all sides of the room at once, and was enraged beyond belief.

Meara sha, meara! Shevai arase sha! Rhaora sha, Rana! Rhaora sha!!!

She didn't understand these words, not did she have time to ponder their meaning, as she was trying to get out of this place as quick as possible. From the tall windows, she could see the plants in the garden dying off, as the devices that were keeping them alive slowly came undone in the destruction. The hidden garden of the Falcon King was being destroyed, his City being reduced to shreds and crying out in despair.

Flaming red hair caught her the corner of her eye. Busy on the command screen, Ambrosius was trying to get the medallion coins back, but they were seemingly stuck. He raged against it, hitting the machine with his fist, sending more tremors shaking down the falcon palace.

“Why isn't it working!? What's happening?!? The double medallion should have sufficed!!”

Another bird statue fell in the way, and Tao stopped dead in his tracks, quickly pulling Zia out of the path. She was still frozen, paralyzed with something she couldn't comprehend, as if she's never witnessed the destruction of a City of Gold before. That voice was still ringing to her ears, echoing through her heart, and it terrified her like nothing before.

Rhaora sha, Rana! RHAORA SHA!!!

Suddenly, a large hand grabbed her, and yanked her back. She screamed, trying to evade it, but Ambrosius was stronger.

“You're not going anywhere!”, he roared.

Zia tried to fight back, to kick him, but she was still unable to move, and his rage gave him a frightening strength. Tao tried to hit him, but Ambrosius easily pushed him away.

A green mass rushed to his face, clawing and pecking at it, and that got him to release Zia's arm. She stepped away, feeling her self-preservation instinct get back on the line. Ambrosius shouted, fought away at the ball of feathers trying to gouge out his eyes, and his fat meaty claws closed around it.

“Enough of this!!”

In a thrust of cruelty, he threw Pichu away like a rag, causing Tao to scream once more. The parrot fell on the ground, and Zia hurried to pick him up, looking around for an escape. A large crack had opened in the ground, and the room would be about to collapse any minute now.

Ambrosius stepped towards her, and Zia reacted quickly. She grabbed whatever she could reach and threw it his way to push him away, her instincts driving her body more than logic. The hourglass shattered on the ground, releasing a torrent of crystal beads that fell away in a cacophony of glassy sounds. Ambrosius fell on the ground trying to evade this dangerous terrain, but she didn't stop yet; led by rage, she threw another piece of time device, and another, screaming to cover the pain of the City and the people trying to escape it. She wasn't herself anymore, she was crying, it was all too much for her! She needed to get out of here, quick!

Tao's voice called out to her, joined by Esteban's a moment later. She managed to snap out of it, and tried to make her way through the labyrinth of fallen debris, clutching a wounded Pichu to her chest. Another bird started to crack and fall from the ceiling, and she dove to avoid it. It fell on yet another machine, which exploded in a deafening rumble of metal and glass. She felt something hit her back violently, cutting her breath, and she fell on the ground. Another hourglass had shattered, and the sand it contained cut away at her skin like hundreds of thousands of glass shards. The pain caught her by surprise and she yelped, letting out a cry of pain that didn't even matter in all the noise already going on around.

It started burning. Had one of the machines caught fire? She tried to get up, but she couldn't find the strength to, for everything felt horrible and painful. The sand was flaying her skin, the heat of the Egyptian desert was coming back to her, and she had trouble breathing. She attempted to crawl up, out of here, but lost grasp on the floor and fell back in the sand which rose in a cloud of dust, stinging at her eyes and making her cough out. She tried to push it away, but even her power seemed to have left her.

The voice of the City was still shouting. It sounded in pain, in horrible pain. Zia tried to make it stop, to lose her ears to it, but couldn't manage to do so. Everything was starting to blur out, to fade away from her weakening sight. Even Pichu's cries were barely enough to keep her awake.

The ground gave way with a quake, and she felt herself falling. But before it happened, another giant hourglass fell down, and the liquid it contained washed over the ground and debris. When it touched to the sand, it started sparking, filling the air with electricity; when it reached her, she felt it burning her skin. She tried to fight it, to escape, but the sparks had already filled the air. They shone bright in front of her, and she screamed like she couldn't do anything anymore, and that's when they became the brightest.

But then it all faded.

~~~~~

[...]

La suite à https://archiveofourown.org/works/25015 ... s/60573826 comme d'habitude.


Zia et Esteban? Zia et Tao? Nope! Zia et Pichu, ma bonne dame! Je vous ai dit que je fais qu'est c'que j'veux?

Ce sera du multi-chapitres. Je sais à peu près où je veux en venir. Combien de chapitres, demandez-vous? Aucune idée, vous réponds-je. C'est ça l'expérience Sandentwins, c'est tellement une surprise que même moi j'en sais rien, lol. Mais bon, au moins c'est original. C'est tellement barré que ça va être dur de trouver de la concurrence.

Bravo pour la continuité ! Ca commence bien !

Chapter 2: Green Wings Will Herald

It took Zia a good time to wake up. When she did, she was rather surprised to find the air around cool and bearable. Was it all a dream?

She struggled to sit up, and her hands met soft cloth. She was resting on a woven mat draped in linen, that she had never seen before. She didn't recognize the place she was in: it looked like the inside of a tent. What was going on? Did someone find her?

She tried to assess the situation. She looked herself over: her clothes were still ripped and burnt, her skin red and scorched by the desert sand. A coughing fit caught her by surprise, and she expunged more of that glimmering dust that stung her mouth. It seemed that it hadn't been a dream, after all.

Pichu was there too, resting on a little pillow. She felt relieved, knowing she hadn't been separated once again. That's when she noticed his wing has been wrapped in cloth: someone had bandaged it. Her own body showed similar signs of care, her burns and bruises soothed with something that faintly smelled of herbs. Scent alone wasn't enough for her to recognize them. Where exactly was she?

As she pondered, someone entered the tent. She got startled for a moment, and them equally so. She was about to say something, when they suddenly left, leaving her confused. But a moment later, they came back, and brought along someone else.

The man was very tall, and equally old. His white hair and beard crowned his face like a lion's mane, and his clothing bore very intricate embroidery. He had black skin, but his eyes were of a blue so pale and celestial that it felt jarring. Zia stared at him for a moment, completely in awe of his presence that imposed itself without she could do anything about it. The other person bowed respectfully, and it told her that this man had status. Her heart started to race, fearing she would get in trouble, but he made none of it and stepped closer.

“Karhoe sha.”, he spoke. “Mima, siba sha kenne?”

Zia blinked. What…? What did he say?

“I...”, she stuttered. “I'm sorry, I...I don't understand.”

The old man raised a brow, looking at her strangely. She's never heard such a language before! Normally, it wouldn't be a problem, she's always had a good grasp of foreign languages...but for some reason, this one was even more foreign than everything she's ever known.

The man spoke again. His tone was quiet, and not as angry as she'd have thought. It was obvious his words were kind, for it was likely he who brought her here, but she couldn't make sense of them. Not at all.

He spoke once more, and Zia couldn't help looking down. She couldn't know how to answer to that, she was too tired to think about it. It felt overwhelming for the moment, as if this task was being too much for her. But the old man noticed her unease.

Slowly, he knelt down to her level, and held her hand. Zia froze for a second, not knowing his intentions, but then he very gently pat her hand as if to comfort her. His own hands were large, very well-kept and ornamented with rings. Slowly, she looked up at him, and he showed a kind smile that reassured her.

“You...are alright?”, he asked.

This time, she understood. She eagerly nodded, before remembering her countenance.

“I...yes. I am fine.”

The man smiled some more, and sat next to the mat.

“Good. I was...worried you were not.”

He was searching his words a little, as if he were speaking a foreign language. Zia did not recognize it, for speaking to all sorts of people throughout her life has made her own language into something complex and unidentifiable, so much that she's never questioned it once. But to be understood was so good on the moment that she couldn't care less.

“We have found you in the desert.”, he kept on. “Tired, fallen and weak. What led you to such a place?”

“I...I don't know. I got lost. I lost my friends.”

Around them, other people were starting to come. Servants, very likely; they checked on her, made sure her bruises and burns were patched properly. Someone offered her a cup of water, and she eagerly drank it, for she didn't even notice just how parched she was. She remembered manners a second too late, but the old man's reaction to her beggary was to laugh.

“And you are very thirsty, too! Where do you come from, child?”

“...I'm not sure of where.”, she hesitated, shyly putting down the cup. “I was...traveling with my friends, and we got separated. I woke up alone in the desert.”

Pichu stirred awake next to her.

“Well, almost alone.”, she corrected. “But I do not know where my other friends are.”

“I see.”

Pichu prepped himself up, ruffling his feathers a bit.

[...]

Read the rest over at https://archiveofourown.org/works/25015 ... s/60668347

Décidément de mieux en mieux !