Post by Moss on Oct 11, 2009 20:52:57 GMT -6
~~ Were you to walk down Crimson Valley street, it wouldn't take you long to reach Sawol-Anste Park. This park looks a bit... different from the outside. It's a public park, but has a metal fence around it, the black kind, that you would expect to see around a graveyard, except about person-height. A little arc marks an opening in the fence in the middle of each side- where the fence stops. There are no doors to close off the park, just arches to make openings in the fence. At this point, you would be most likely to decide to take a look into this queer little park, and step in through the arched gait. You would find yourself walking through the park, on a little path, and since you entered here to look around, now would be the great time to see what this park is made off. The sight isn't annything unordinary, at first sight.
Instead, the park seems charming in it's simplicity. Neatly trimmed lawns are criss-crossed by an aray of little paved paths, and here and there giant oaks or weeping willows loom. The trees bow over, sometime shadowing the paths, sometime creating spectral shadows. Their gnarled trucks form interesting shapes, artistic and beautiful, and yet, unsettling too. Other then that, the park is just flat grass, setting out the black stone paths, which, you may now notice, are perfectly simmetrical at al angles of the perfectly square park, forming a sort of odd mandala. It's spectacular, in a certain light, that someone would take such time to make a design simmetrical from all four angles in the middle of such a park, but you'd get over it. It's realy the simple harmony of old trees and old gaits and stones, along with the freshness of the new grass, that make it a place well loved by nearly everyone in the summer, and the people who like creepier things in the cold shadows of winter.
Indeed, under a different sky, this park has an aura of mystery like no other, with it's odd, never-explained symbol. And were you too walk in it in the cold grey light of Halloween, under the shadow of the Nevermore House, you would most likely see an aspect of this park not to be expected at first sight.
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**Simon is walking down the stony path, headed no specific part of the park in particular. This is the closest park to his shop, worshop, and home, and his favorite. Something about it, maybe how it manages to be so welcoming in the summer and then takes on a different face in the winter, thrills him. Or maybe it's the mysterious design, made by the stone paths, and the
ancient, thick trees, who have lived through more then anyone could imagine. Either way, this is a good place for him.
Today, the first snow had fallen in Seabrook- light, a flurry of soft crystal, which had blown in from the mainland. The town is covered in a thin layer of flakes, and surrounded by a fog. The trees and plants seem to hold thier breath under a layer of frost. Simply put, the town seems to have been muted, turned into a world of crystal. People are staying home today, as quieted as thier town by this early first snow. Only a few dare trundle out, wrapped in layers of coats, thier breaths rising to join the fog in the air.
The magician takes a deap breath of the frozen air, and pulls out a blanket. This seems as agood a place to sit as any, and for a reason he's never understood, there are no benches in this park. So he, takes his own blanket, and lays it on the black stones. Gingerly sitting down on the thick fleece, he smiles appreciatively. The blanket seems to be keeping out the frost well enough. With thickly gloved hands, he pulls a book out of his coat pocket. It's a little, soft-covered thing, with well-worn pages which he seems
to be having trouble turning with his gloves on. Never the less, he manages too, and begins to read. Most people don't decide to go read a book of "The world's Ghosts- stories from all seven continents"on the coldest day of the year so far, but, why not? The park is beautiful under the ice, and he's nice and toasty under at least five layers. With a smile, Simon also pulls out a travel mug os something warm, presumably coffee, but maybe hot chocolate, and, with out taking his eyes off the book, takes a few sips of it.
And so, on this chilly day, the young man sits, enjoying the perfect silence of his town, and the beauty of a park, turned to crystal with the snow.**
Instead, the park seems charming in it's simplicity. Neatly trimmed lawns are criss-crossed by an aray of little paved paths, and here and there giant oaks or weeping willows loom. The trees bow over, sometime shadowing the paths, sometime creating spectral shadows. Their gnarled trucks form interesting shapes, artistic and beautiful, and yet, unsettling too. Other then that, the park is just flat grass, setting out the black stone paths, which, you may now notice, are perfectly simmetrical at al angles of the perfectly square park, forming a sort of odd mandala. It's spectacular, in a certain light, that someone would take such time to make a design simmetrical from all four angles in the middle of such a park, but you'd get over it. It's realy the simple harmony of old trees and old gaits and stones, along with the freshness of the new grass, that make it a place well loved by nearly everyone in the summer, and the people who like creepier things in the cold shadows of winter.
Indeed, under a different sky, this park has an aura of mystery like no other, with it's odd, never-explained symbol. And were you too walk in it in the cold grey light of Halloween, under the shadow of the Nevermore House, you would most likely see an aspect of this park not to be expected at first sight.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
**Simon is walking down the stony path, headed no specific part of the park in particular. This is the closest park to his shop, worshop, and home, and his favorite. Something about it, maybe how it manages to be so welcoming in the summer and then takes on a different face in the winter, thrills him. Or maybe it's the mysterious design, made by the stone paths, and the
ancient, thick trees, who have lived through more then anyone could imagine. Either way, this is a good place for him.
Today, the first snow had fallen in Seabrook- light, a flurry of soft crystal, which had blown in from the mainland. The town is covered in a thin layer of flakes, and surrounded by a fog. The trees and plants seem to hold thier breath under a layer of frost. Simply put, the town seems to have been muted, turned into a world of crystal. People are staying home today, as quieted as thier town by this early first snow. Only a few dare trundle out, wrapped in layers of coats, thier breaths rising to join the fog in the air.
The magician takes a deap breath of the frozen air, and pulls out a blanket. This seems as agood a place to sit as any, and for a reason he's never understood, there are no benches in this park. So he, takes his own blanket, and lays it on the black stones. Gingerly sitting down on the thick fleece, he smiles appreciatively. The blanket seems to be keeping out the frost well enough. With thickly gloved hands, he pulls a book out of his coat pocket. It's a little, soft-covered thing, with well-worn pages which he seems
to be having trouble turning with his gloves on. Never the less, he manages too, and begins to read. Most people don't decide to go read a book of "The world's Ghosts- stories from all seven continents"on the coldest day of the year so far, but, why not? The park is beautiful under the ice, and he's nice and toasty under at least five layers. With a smile, Simon also pulls out a travel mug os something warm, presumably coffee, but maybe hot chocolate, and, with out taking his eyes off the book, takes a few sips of it.
And so, on this chilly day, the young man sits, enjoying the perfect silence of his town, and the beauty of a park, turned to crystal with the snow.**
))