A Bit of Midwinter Worldbuilding (Join Me?)

[wyld_dandelyon]

I love reading urban fantasy, and I've been wanting an urban fantasy world to play in--er, write in. But I don't have an urban fantasy world designed yet. I want something different, with magical beings that suit my personal sense of whimsy. A world different enough to let me challenge my characters with a different set of dilemmas.

I finally have the start of an idea for a world, and want to do some world building. I'd also like to give all of my patient readers a bit of a present.

I'm a cat lover, so there will be cats, probably a lot of them. Not only cats, of course, that would be too predictable. There will be ephemeral beings, and bright colors, beauty and danger, and quite possibly dragons, or maybe something else altogether, but ancient and strange and powerful.

So, if you want to play along and give me a bit of a Midwinter Gift, you can offer words, thoughts, questions, images or songs; my gift, for each of you that do so, will be to pick at least one to inspire me and offer some small glimpse into this world, a vignette or ficlet (at least 100 words), poem or song, or perhaps a bit of art.

Whether you play along or not, I hope you have wonderful Midwinter Holidays, and a marvelous New Year.

Technical difficulties prevent me from sharing a snow picture or two right now; later!

For now, let's get started!

Comments

Not a Whisker

[wyld-dandelyon.livejournal.com]

The old man sat in his chair, lips drooping with a habitual sadness. His scent made it clear he was a dog, but I didn’t have enough experience with dog-kin to tell what breed. No one did, really. He could be anything from a chihuahua to a wolfhound, though his facial expression made me think of a basset hound.

“So…” I trailed off. I had a million questions, but they all sounded dreadfully rude.

“Everyone asks. It’s all right, I’m used to it.” He frowned, but didn’t give her time to formulate a question. "My kind used to be as numerous as yours.” He paused, expectantly.

Now it didn’t feel rude—if he didn’t want to talk, he wouldn’t have started the tale. “So, what happened?”

“No one really knows. There were turf wars, but there’ve always been turf wars and other fighting. There were diseases, but there’ve always been those too—and magic and curses and all the rest. We weathered those things just fine for millennia. It was the puppies, really. There were fewer and fewer children, and most of them were just puppies, loved as kin, but just dogs, in the end. For a time, bearing in human form helped, but after a while, even they were mostly just babies, only human from birth to death.”

I tried to imagine it, children only human, unable to shift—not the occasional unfortunate throwback or halfbreed, but whole families of them. “No—no gifts? No magic?”

“Not a whisker.”

I shivered. I didn’t want to think about this any more. “So. This isn’t why you called me.” I made my voice firm, willing it to be true. “What prompted you to request my presence?

Re: Not a Whisker

[rix_scaedu]

Very sad.