The List Friendship Ring story

Page 10, the passing of the Ring from Typodragon to FallenAngel

This page was created and edited while listening to Loreena McKennitt's The Mask and the Mirror! This means that any funky things are NOT MY FAULT!! *giggle*

Typo Fri, 27 Feb 1998 7:00pm Typo looks up from her laptop and sees the mixture of old faces and new. Lots of new. The end of the week has come, and with it, the passing of the Friendship Ring ceremony. Quietly (and with as little fluff as possible ;) she removes the ring from the chain around her neck and presents it to Fallenangel. *The ring is passed to you, my friend!* the blue-green dragon's voice purrs warmly, then she straightens up (as much as she can without hitting her head on the ceiling) to quote...er...paraphrase...the words of the Mage of Green Silences... This ring is a symbol of friendship among the listsibs. Thank you for all you do to bring interesting, fun, and thoughtful conversation to the group. What you give enriches us all. At the end of the week, please pass on the ring to another. This is how we extend the circle of friendship. As she passes the ring on, in her hand appears the triple-fold reward of the Ring...and wouldn't you know it, the three bands of silver, platinum, and gold are the perfect size to slip over one huge talon. She pushes the ring/bracelet up onto her wrist, smiles, and gets back to work. FallenAngel Sat, 28 Feb 1998 8:06pm Fallenangel wanders to a corner of the Hall, drawn by a feeling. As she turned, Typo stood up from her laptop and removed the Ring from around her neck, handing it to Fallenangel. The ring is passed to you, my friend! she purrs, her blue-green scales glittering in the dim light. Fallenangel bowed her head in respect. "Thank you," she whispered. She turned and walked back into the Hall, her winged panther bondmate Isis walking at her side. :You aren't exactly a newbie...: Isis commented. :Well, I've only been on the list for a few months, but I'm still new, compared to some of the list members. Besides, I don't think that the Ring has to be passed to a new person.: Isis grinned. :Do you know, you never got drenched or pounced?: :Shhh!: Fallenangel sent. :Someone might hear you!: Muranog Sat, 28 Feb 1998 10:16pm The large troll clad in white and purple glides over to Fallenangel and gives her a quick *pounce*, both in belated welcome to the list and in congratulation for earning the Ring. Not to be left out, a large black war sheep jumps up on Fallenangel and licks her happily, then proceeds to lick Isis too for good measure. FallenAngel Sun, 1 Mar 1998 5:37am Fallenangel grins as Muranog and his Bondmate Sable glide away after respectively *pouncing* and licking her and Isis. "Thanks for the welcome!" she called after them happily. Seashimmer Tue, 3 Mar 1998 4:30am "Seashimmer Cowrie - I present thee with thine own Drenching Bucket, made blue and white. Drench well! :)" "Thank you very much, Lady!" Hurridly, Seashimmer procedes off with her new bucket. Hmm, lots of newbies. . . Yes, another newbie. Hi, my name is Rachel Hi! My name is Javelin and I'm new I'm back after an absence of forever and a day. (almost a year? yipes!) Anyone still on-list from way-back-when? [Vrondi] I wanted to join the list too a. . .Heartsong ::Splosh!::, ::Splosh!::, ::Splosh!::, ::Splosh!:: Seashimmer circles around the room, greating each new (and not-so-new)bie as she comes to them. "Welcome, or welcome back, to the list! I hope you enjoy the discusions here, and post often" Aryllian Tue, 3 Mar 1998 9:44pm From the shifting shadows surrounding the bright center of the main hall of the Halls of Mist, the slight suggestion of movement is felt more than seen. If one were to look closer, perhaps attracted by the restrained flutter of dark cloth, one would see the outline of a figure, leaning forward, staring out into the brightly lit center of the Hall. Then, as if in sudden descision, the figure moves, first pulling closer a cloak and flipping up the hood, hiding hair and features, then with a graceful movement, striding out into the outskirts of the hall, in the area where the candles flicker and dance, shedding light but little illumination. Here the figure pauses, listening to the murmur of voices from the louder center. In the faint light, one can make out little more than one could in the darkness of the shadows. A dark cloak surrounds the figure in elegant folds and obsuring enigma. The cloak falls gracefully, the exact color of the shifting shadows that the figure emerged from, the pattern seeming to change constantly in the faint light of the dancing flames of the candles, and every now and again a spark of brighter color appears, then shifts into shadow again as quickly as it came. Suddenly the figure freezes, in stillness disappearing from sight, and then is moving, an overheard word demanding response. Weaving through the maze of columns and colorful tapestries toward the open area in the center of the hall where most discussion goes on, the figure emerges into the light. The figure, shroud in shadow with the color shimmering brightly, though rarely, with the increase of light and shadow lightening but paradoxically revealing less, approaches a group, and listens for a second, then murmurs a reply. Jehanneton Wed, 4 Mar 1998 12:55pm A slight figure lurks in the shadows surrounding the Halls of Mist, circling the great room listening to snippets of conversation but unable to pluck up the courage to join one of the groups engaged in animated discussion. On several occasions she steps towards a group and takes a breath to begin speaking but inevitably her courage fails her and she subsides back into the swirling shadows. Eventually, to her right, she hears a snatch of discussion in which she feels really *must* participate... Aryllian wrote: I love GGK, I enjoy Misty, but IMO a collaboration would not be a good idea. Well, beyond the fact that I'm not sure GGK does collaborations. GGK is a much more mature writer. She turns quickly and flushes with embarrassment as the lute slung over her back crashes into a column with a thrum of strings. Resolutely she pushes the hood of her forest green travelling cloak back from her red gold hair, smoothes her tunic, takes a deep breath to sooth her nerves and says... "I hope you don't mind me butting in here, I'm just a newbie, but I felt I really had to agree here. I have been reading both GGK and Misty for years now and feel that Misty's strength lies with her story whereas GGK's strength is his *style*. That's not to say that he doesn't have good storylines, but his writing style is what makes his books seem so beautiful to me. An analogy I'd use is that Misty's books always seem to me like an extremely well scripted movie with wonderful actors who manage to convey an extraordinary depth of feeling (I was introduced to Misty with Magic's Pawn and was hooked by her portrayel of the young Vanyel). GGK, on the other hand, always makes me feel like I'm inside a complex tapestry with many different patterns and strands. Reading GGK is *work* but at the end of one of his books I feel, and this sounds fairly soppy, almost as if I've been *changed* by the whole process and the endings are ususally a complex mix of the happy and the sad. It usually takes me a while to get over reading one of his books- even re-reading them! | Just like real life, I suppose. "Misty is still one of my favourite authors, but I can enjoy her books without having to put effort into it. They can make me laugh and cry, but at the end I can usually breathe a sigh of contentment and go on to the next one without to much ado. (The exceptions here are MPawn & MPrice- I still sniffle for a while even after all these years!)" Kas Wed, 4 Mar 1998 8:12pm Kas and Shor were bounding down the marble staircase towards the Great Hall when suddenly a great puff of smoke shot up just in front of them, creating a wall of gas impervious to sight. Immediately Kas drew back and gathered the lamb into her arms. She wasn't sure whether she should move forward and gingerly edged one foot towards the grey billowing stuff. She jerked it back immediately in surprise for when she tried to put her weight on it, the foot seemed to sink through the floor. "Shor, what's happening?" she whispered. The lamb only bleated in reply. She took a step backwards up the staircase and threateningly, the smoke followed her. She took another and it too advanced. The more steps she took, the more it followed her. And then Kas began to panic - she ran all the way down the corridor as fast as her feet could take her. She reached her door and even though she had only just left it moments before, scrawled over it in large red letters were the words, WELCOME BACK FOR ANOTHER SEMESTER AT THE UNIVERSITY OF WOLLONGONG. "No!" she screamed and tried to rub the message off with her hands and nails. But the smoke was catching up her - so thick and grey and dull - Kas whipped the door open and slammed it shut. She dropped Shor to the floor and the lamb bounded towards the computer terminal in the furthermost corner of the room. Kas set about shoving material under the door and into the cracks, trying desperately to seal everything off. She went to the window and realized that the grey cloud in the sky was not just a grey cloud. She shut the panes, pulled down the blinds and swung the curtains across the glass. Then she too retreated to the corner with Shor. They held their breath, waiting, so still they could have been statues in a wax museum. Nothing happened. Not a wisp of smoke penetrated the small room. Kas and Shor kept their eyes fixed on the door for a further ten minutes. Still nothing happened. At last Kas rose and crossed the room. Slowly she pulled out the pieces of cloth she had stuffed into the cracks. No smoke. She breathed a sigh of relief. "I think we're all right, Shor. Whatever it was, it has passed. Perhaps it was some mage practicing his or her magical arts." Shor came out of the corner warily and nudged Kas' hand. She went to the window, brushed away the curtains and pulled up the blind. And saw that the world outside was filled with grey smoke. She rushed to the door and opened it. Outside - nothing but grey smoke and the wind which eagerly filled the room, sending papers and postcards scattering onto the floors. Hastily she shut it. "Shor," cried Kas, "I don't think we're in -" And suddenly they made impact with the ground. The jolt sent Kas sprawling and all her books obeyed the laws of gravity and leapt joyfully off the shelf. Kas tried to protect herself from the shower by covering her head but even so she received a torrent of bruises and vowed to buy thinner and lighter books from then on. Everything seemed to be still again. Kas pulled herself out of the rubble, went to the door, opened it and stepped out. Instead of the richly carpeted corridors of the Halls of Mist there was a bitumen road with cars cruising back and forth along it. There were ordinary suburban houses and gum trees in the front yards. The Australian sun beat heavily upon the earth and the sound of cicadas was thick in the air. Kas sighed and turned her back on the scene. She was about to go inside again when she saw an envelope lying at her feet. She opened it and pulled out a white piece of paper with blue print on it. UNIVERSITY OF WOLLONGONG ENROLLMENT RECORD KAREN CHAN DEGREE: BACHELOR OF CREATIVE ARTS/BACHELOR OF ARTS SUBJECT CREA 301 HISTORY OF THE ARTS ENGL 259 INTRODUCTION TO CANADIAN WRITING ENGL 350 FANTASY AND POPULAR FICTION WRIT 332 PROSE FICTION 300 WRIT 333 POETRY 300 At the bottom of the form was her HECS bill. "Well," she thought, "at least I'll have Fantasy and Popular Fiction to sustain me I've heard that 'Interview with a Vampire' is on the reading list." She went back inside and shut the door. The room had changed. The grand piano had disappeared. So had the plants and the beautiful stereo surround sound system. The walls were now painted white, the ceiling boasted just a naked bulb and her ornate nineteenth-century furniture had become somewhat shabby and weathered. The only thing that remained the same were the posters and postcards which gave the place a lived-in feel, and the books that were now collected in a heap on the floor. Kas piled them back onto the shelves at random, making a mental note to herself to sort them out again later. When she was done, she called for Shor. She received no answer. A feeling of dread swept through her. Had her companion, like her glossy black baby grand, disappeared forever? "Shor?" She heard a sniffle and a little sob. It came from the direction of her computer. She sat down at the terminal and there, like a little fluffy white ball of wool, was Shor, gazing at her mournfully through the LCD screen. "Oh Shor!" Kas touched the pixel image lightly with her fingers. The lamb responded by letting a small white tear fall from the corner of its eye. Then it began to run around, crazily trying to seek an exit - galloping across the start bar and pursuing UFO's that appeared out of nowhere, hoping to hitch a ride. And when it found that that didn't work, it tried throwing itself off the top of windows, eating poisonous dandelions and re-entering the atmosphere and burning up. Nothing changed matters. The lamb would be alive as long as its program was running and the two parts could never be separated or else the lamb would cease to exist. Kas went to sleep with tears glistening on her cheeks. And when her alarm went off, heralding a new day, she packed her bag and went off to her first lecture.