Well since Pix has so kindly posted first and everything looks pretty dark here I guess I should post as well
For Scarab:It was a cold, grey day on the Isles of Britannia
So much like several other days on the isles, the ungenerous would go so far as to say most days on the isles were like that. However this tale is not about one of those ungenerous people. Rather it is about a mad artist (although mad is likewise an ungenerous term).
We begin with said artist enjoying a spot of tea.....
Scarab set down the cup of earl grey she had been sipping from and leaned back enjoying the comfortable chair in the tea shop (As an aside I do hope those are a thing or I'm gonna look like an idiot).
I'm so lucky to have found one open this late on Christmas Eve she thought to herself pleased as she looked out onto the evening.
(yes I know I said day, it was for dramatic emphasis. Just chillax guys)
The artist looked down at the few bags she had from shopping for her family. It wasn't much really but really the holidays should be less about the gifts and more about the people anyway. Sighing to herself Scarab took out a pad and a pencil and began to sketch.
In retrospect she thought.
Maybe there were better ideas than allowing open requests for drawings on twitter for the holidays. Regardless she had work to do and she was going to do it, that was simply the kind of person she was.
Settling down she began drawing. It wasn't really a fast process. For every line drawn it was redrawn several times until it looked right, or at least close to right in her opinion. It was a simple thing she was drawing now but that was no excuse not to do it right.
After a while her phone began to buzz. Answering it she heard the voice of her mother.
“[Name Redacted out of Respect] where are you? Its getting rather late and you need to be sure to get enough sleep so you can be awake along with everyone else tomorrow morning”
Nodding despite the fact that she was on the phone Scarab answered. “Okay Mum, I'll be back soon”
Saying their goodbyes Scarab slipped her phone into her pocket and set out leaving money for the tea on the table. As she left the shop she began walking towards home. Normally she never would have walked but for some reason the night seemed so nice. The snow across the ground was nice and even like a blanket despite the fact that when Scarab had looked out earlier it was much more muddy and messy.
Taking a shortcut through a nearby park Scarab took her time and enjoyed the winter wonderland. However as she walked past some of the trees a hairy monster with eight arms stepped out looming over her. As she backed away she slipped on a patch of ice that almost certainly been there before. She fell, scattering the contents of her bag as she did so. Scrabbling backwards Scarab looked for anything that could help her, as she felt about her hand landed on a pen. Looking down she saw it was not a pen that she had bought and it glowed with a strange light.
Without really knowing why she did so Scarab put the pen down onto the sidewalk and drew the one thing she knew for certain would help her against this menace:
A poker.
Scarab had never drawn this fast in her life and she made the drawing without any corrections, however neither of those were the amazing part. The amazing part was when the drawing floated off the ground and took life as an actual poker. Seizing opportunity (and the poker) in her hand the artist swung wildly connecting a glancing blow with one of the creature's hands the beast reeled back in pain. Gaining confidence Scarab began swing connecting more blows until the monster fled in fear from her.
“And leave everyone else alone too you hear?” She called after the feeling monster, the poker falling away to dust as she did. Looking down at the pen in wonder, thoughts ran rampant.
What is this thing? How did it get here? Can it do this forever? Can I be trusted with this kind of power? (As an aside those who question whether they should trusted with power are rarely unworthy of the responsibility) Her line of thought was cut off by the sound of someone crying and a quiet mewing. Sighing once again to herself she walked towards the sounds.
Before long she came upon two small children, a brother and sister crying (I can add more people to the cry count if I want) and a small kitten on a high branch of a tree.
Well...At the very least this couldn't hurt. Scarab slogged out into the snow and using the pen she drew a set of steps which sprang to reality. After the first tentative step the kitten happily ambled down to the children who received it with cries of joy. The children thanked Scarab before running home.
Scarab moved on walking out of the park, she was almost home. Which is when she saw a man sitting on the curb, his head in his hands. In keeping with a trend Scarab sat down next to the man before asking him what was wrong.
“I need to try to convince my girlfriend not to leave me but my car battery is dead as is my phone.”
Without a second thought Scarab drew him a phone and told him to be quick in using it. Without waiting to see how it went or for any thanks Scarab walked off, arriving home, getting on her laptop and logging into the chat. She was happy to see so many of her friends on, who greeted her enthusiastically before returning to a prior conversation about the upcoming holidays.
eli_gone_crazy: I would like to not be stabbed for christmas
Qara-Xuan Zenith: *stabs eli*
eli_gone_crazy is now known as eli_gone_dead
The conversation continued until it arrived at a point that had been brought up many times before. The metaguard's desire to see each other. Scarab stared sadly at the screen. It was a shame that the friends could never see each other and she was more isolated than most. That was when Scarab looked at the pen and wondered. Deciding it couldn't hurt she took up her new pen and drew a door, pouring her desire to see her friends into her art.
All over the world the scattered metaguards stared on in amazement as doors faded in to reality nearby them. Although none could deny the strangeness of the event all of them opened their door and stepped through.
Scarab smiled a large smile when she saw the door open and people started walking through, their clothes magically changed. There was a short girl with a ghost catcher, a man with a ghost girl behind him, a giant in a red robe, a girl with a scroll and quill and so many more. Setting down the pen Scarab went to her friends. And late into the night she and her friends enjoyed themselves.
The next morning when she awoke there was no sign that er friends had been there, no sign of the door, no proof it had been anything other than a dream. The pen was there but it was ordinary, there was no glow, nothing she drew sprang to life.
Sad though she was she decided to draw the scene from the night before, using the pen. She did not draw abnormally fast, she made mistakes but when she was done the painting had life, it had a kind of soul that not all art has. So sad but content Scarab put down her pen and started to leave her room. As she was about to exit she caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of her eye. She turned and frowned for a moment before heading out. Certainly it had all been a dream, certainly one of the people from the drawing had not winked at her. That would be impossible.
But then, is anything really impossible? Or has a way to do it just not been discovered yet.
The artist went and spent time with her family.
And thus our tale comes to a close.
I felt some joy was needed to chase away unwanted woes.
With hope this brings happiness as the moon beings to wane
Have a Merry Christmas, Scarab. Sincerely, Guyshane.
So kinda cheesy and written quite frantically last night/this morning but I hope you like it all the same
Posted: Thu Dec 19, 2013 9:43 pm
