Little Blue Strings

Little Blue Snippets I

These were written alongside the main story to help me stay interested and to remove writer's block. By doing short exercises, I was able to stay focused. These slightly longer bits are about the pasts of characters or are "behind the scenes" of the present storyline.
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"Come on, come on! There's another one here!" she calls, waving her best friend over.

The pair crouch by the swamp's edge, watching the water for ripples.

"I don't see any," Peace says.

"Just wait!" War very carefully reaches her hand over the surface. She pauses for a moment, and then quickly reaches into the water. There is some splashing and quite a lot of mud, but after a brief struggle, she holds aloft her prize.

"Oh! He's pretty big!" Peace marvels.

War grins, struggling to keep ahold of the bullfrog. Her tiny hands and little fingers are no match for the frog, but she somehow manages to keep a strong grip on the creature's legs.

"What should we name him?" War asks Peace.

"Hmm. I like the name Achoo," replies Peace.

"Achoo? What's that mean?"

Peace shrugs. "I don't know. It's the sound you make when you sneeze!"

"It's also the sound you make when this happens!"

War throws the bullfrog at her, and Peace shrieks. The frog lands on her chest, kicks her, and flops to the ground. With an almost indignant ribbit, it hops back into the murky water. The two little girls are busy chasing each other, and do not notice.

"Hey! No fair!" War shouts. Peace has flickered, and a little bear cub quickly scampers into the branches of a tree.

The grizzly looks down at her, and sticks out its tongue in a mocking manner.

"Oh, you won't get away that easy!"

War flickers, becoming a very awkward vulture fledgeling. She blinks, stretching her wings. From above, there is a snort. Peace is trying her best not to laugh, but in the end, she cannot help herself.

The little vulture glares up at her, feathers ruffled. War decides to fall back on her last resort. She draws in a deep breath, puffs up her chest, and lets loose a high-pitched screech. It isn't very impressive, but it startles Peace. The bear cub, spooked, loses her grip on the wood and tumbles to the forest floor.

Peace flickers, sitting up. Twigs and leaves are stuck in her hair, and her face is smudged with dirt. A bit dazed, she looks down to see that a bead of bright red is welling up on her knee. Her eyes widen, tears threatening to spill down her flushed cheeks.

War flickers mid-step, running over to her.

"Oh... Don't cry! Please! I'm sorry!" pleads War. "Here."

She offers Peace her hand, and pulls the shorter girl to her feet.

"Come on, I'll get you some help..."

Peace sniffles, gingerly taking a step. War leads her through the trees, worriedly glancing back every now and then to make sure her friend is ok. They walk beneath the low branches of several weeping willows, and down a gently sloping hill. The hill ends at a stream, and next to the stream is a lone, massive cypress tree. Its roots have twisted into an arch, creating a door-like structure. Hanging in the makeshift doorway is a pretty blue string. A white rose has been tied to the string, and it blows in the breeze.

War looks up at it, and then knocks her fist against the wood. At first, nothing happens, but then she hears a rustling from within. A fluffy white head emerges from the shade of the tree. It is a fawn. Well, not really... The young deer has small, fuzzy tufts atop its head- the beginnings of antlers that someday will become magnificent.

There is a flicker, and then Peace finds herself in the arms of a boy who is no longer a child, but not quite a man.

"Oh, Peace," he murmurs. "Let's get you patched up. Come, War."

With Peace in one arm, and War's fingers gripping his other hand, Life heads inside of his home.

The place in which he lives is simple. Herbs hang from the ceiling, a pair of hares snuggle in the corner, and a cleared expanse of smooth, flat roots lays low to the ground in one corner. Life sets little Peace down, and War goes to sit next to the hares. They sniff at her fingers, and she quietly pets them.

"Now, can you tell me what happened?" Life asks her.

"...Fell out of a tree..." she mumbles, looking down at her lap.

"And how did that happen?"

"We were playing, and I got spooked."

Life glances over at War. He looks as if he is about to say something, but Peace interrupts him.

"It wasn't her fault! It was mine. I shouldn't have tried to climb that high."

Life sighs, taking her leg and extending it.

"If you say so."

He places one hand over the torn skin, pressing down. Peace winces, a little whimper slipping out of her mouth. War looks up, ready to smack Life across the face for hurting her friend, but Peace quickly shakes her head. War's tense shoulders relax, but she still sends an icy glare in Life's direction.

When Life removes his hand, the bloodied and bruised area has all but faded.

"No more climbing trees, alright?"

Peace nods. "Thank you."

With a little assistance from Life, Peace shimmies off of the roots, and her feet touch the floor. She walks over to War, and extends a hand. Together, they leave the cypress tree. Life follows them as far as the doorway, and watches the pair walk up the hill.

War... He knows that she is still young and does not yet know of her future calling, but he still feels a disturbance when she is in his presence. It is a pity that Peace had to befriend her. The bond will only hurt her later. He knows full well, now that he has grown, that befriending one's opposite will only lead to heartbreak and sorrow. He's seen it happen already with some of the older beings around him.

Life turns to head back inside, but something catches his eye. Across the stream, in the shade of the pines, is a mass of shadows.

"Hello?" he calls.

There is a small movement- two golden eyes blinking- and then the shadow melts away, slinking back into the forest.

Life has only seen this sorrowful creature a total of three times. Once, when he was a very small child, hardly able to walk, once, when he was learning to flicker, and now today. He knows who it is. It is his opposite. Death.

He stares for a hard minute into the depths of the pines. Death is long gone, but that feeling of sorrow and malaise still lingers.

"Hm."

Life returns to his home beneath the cypress tree, thinking of golden eyes