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Portrait of Felix by SulZala
Portrait of Felix
Sunday night, sewing meet. Ives was hungover and couldn't come, so it was just us.

He did that by himself, by the way. I watched him, and then was, hang on, don't move, I need a photo of that. Or nine.
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They arrive in the glaring mid-afternoon sun, but Basheera had seen them on the road from Al-Johara and hurried down the road on her surid, leaving the date baskets up in the shack, her mother was so angry and had her running back and get them, but by then the whole town knew - Weberknecht's Carnival was on its way.

A few had opened their carts for customers upon arrival, just as the sun reaches the horizon, those who brought wares from the north, from Al-Amara and Thuer and further, unimaginably far away, beyond the date trees and the sand and the white buildings growing out of it like teeth and scales.
You throw a passing glance at the ironwares on one cart, and slip through. The maurid don't mind you, they had a long day pulling the carts and the people and now just want to drink, eat, and sleep. You recognize the paintings on one of the carts, the owner sells the most delicious sweet pastes, but right now he lies on the roof and smokes.

You jump over another maurid tail and scoot under a cart and out on the other side, then take a sharp right turn and pass between some more. Some old mother hollers after you. A turn left, and you come across a fireside, with a cauldron hanging over it. Right next to it is a person with four eyes, coiled up, squinting, hair and skin and coat white as clouds, eyes night-black, they yawn, and reveal a pair of long fangs.
You're out fast.

The next evening, the carnival is in full buzz. You hurry with your homework, and hurry down as the last rays of the setting sun paint the sky in all colours, gleaming, shifting, bright and warm from the day, with the first cool winds coming. It smells of dung, of wood, of sand, overlaid with a thick sweetness, oozing, you can almost taste it. Colourful glass lanterns light the paths between the carts and stands. Fabric ruffles and occasionally glitters, coin beads jingle softly, the scent of roasting lizard meat wafts through the sweet haze and makes you mouth water as you imagine biting into it.

No one notices when you cut the line, just a little. The lizard is as delicious as you imagined it, and so is the bread that soaks up the juice that almost runs down your chin.

There's a commotion farther down, past the incense cart and the chimes, past the sweetpaste, but it's all jammed.
The sweetpaste merchant sees you, and beckons you over.
Galiyah, he says, what are you doing down here? You're missing the show!
Mudar, grandfather, you reply, there are too many people, I can't see.
Then climb on the cart, Galiyah. I know you won't fall down.

You grab the lizard and flatbread firmly between your teeth and climb up. The warm wood creaks.

Below, you see the person with the four eyes again, shrouded in flowy, thin fabrics, all white, around them simple coal braziers, giving little light. Their eyes are like an abyss, just without the stars. Somewhere in the shadows a lute starts playing, and they move. It's like they don't have bones or weight, flying over the earth with their bare feet, and then, you see. Every touch, every twist of an ankle, and a line glows on the ground, softly, almost invisible in the flickering fire and shadows.
Every jump, every twirl, and a picture forms under them, white and ghost-like like themself, and then, the outer circles dissolve in colour and light, washing over the audience and the braziers, and the braziers flare, flare high and blue and red and green and black and sparks fly through the air, billows of rainbows rise from the ground and in between, in between darkness and light and music and sparks, the dancer flares up their scarves once more, like Neferon's clouds, and bows.

The crows erupts into cheers, but the dancer has already melted into the shadows.

You notice you let your lizard fall down. No saving it now.
The Mudar lightly touches your shoulder, and offers you a basket.
It contains jars, filled with delicious sweetpaste. Hastily, you dig out the coin satchel you got from your mother, and ask, how much?
He chuckles. Three bronze towers a jar, as the sign says.
You eye him incredulously. I've been buying your sweetpaste since I was a little kid. One tower.
He returns your expression. I have a maurid to feet! Two towers and three tin snakes.
You widen your eyes in disbelief. But Mudar, my mother has been buying from you since she was a little kid! And we always buy so much! A tower and five snakes.
He raises an eyebrow. Two towers.
You grin, and nod. Deal.
You pull out two silver moons and ten bronze towers from your satchel, and give them to the Mudar. He eyes them approvingly, and let's them disappear into his own.
I'll be dropping by tomorrow again, you promise. Mother wants to buy fabric and threads and things and I want some, too.
He grins. Old Layali won't be so easy to barter down, child.
Mother has more experience than me, you shrug. But I need to go now, Mudar. Keleheu be benevolent unto your night, Mudar.
Keleheu be benevolent unto yours, Galiyah.

The basket is heavy, and you can't climb up to see, but then a spindly man in glittering yellow rises above the crowd on a web of dew-thin ropes, swaying between high poles in front of the night sky, then a second, then a third, and as the first one perches atop the web, they climb on his shoulders, the third one saltos off, a fiery whirl of orange and red and reflecting coin beads. The second places his hand on the first one's head, and lifts himself up, in flowing shades of green, the net sways, the men sway, they must fall any second now -
They do not, even as the first rises, first to his feet, to one, to the toes, he balances on the tip of his big toe, the second one raises his palm, then little finger, the ring finger, the middle finger, then the thumb. The net sways, they are like palm trees in a sandstorm, firm.
When the white dancer from before breathes red fire to him, he twirls it around his wrist, and throws it into the fire bowl on the other side.

That night, you dream of sweetsmelling fire, of twirling through the oozing flames and you hear a distant, dark crowd cheer...
Galiyah
Entry to :iconunseen-writers: Weekly Theme, Circus
Well, not quite a circus, more of a traveling carnival.

Weberknecht's Carnival came to mind, but this is as far as I can go at the moment. Circuses and Carnivals are pretty awful for me, too many flashing lights, too many people, too much noise - Galiyah doesn't have this problem. Lucky girl.

Christmas markets are ok if I have a friend with me, and not every shop is blaring christmasy music

Ren faires tho, those are kickass. Mostly because there's no blaring music, there's no people with megaphones, and you have space to breathe and sit down and eat something

Apart from that, my contact with things like that is vague memories from Enid Blyton's books - Blyton sent her protagonists to faires about every second book xxD In my memory, they are a lot less taxing than the real deal.
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To those who will venture into the future that is even beyond our own, may good luck accompany you. For even then we will not know what will await us, in the dark recesses of reality our eyes have not yet peered into, but will soon.

Indeed, what will? What, that has not yet been seen, but will have been, between now, and then? What, that has not yet been seen, and will then, for the first time?

What will you take with you, which we dream of, today? What will you take with you, that even our greatest minds have not dared to envision?

What will you expect, in the uncertainty that you will enter? Or will you expect nothing, and venture out with childlike wonder and open-mindedness?

What will you encounter, out there?

Movement, just past the corner of our perception, or a wet, soft coil that will slither down your neck from above?

You will have seen something flicker, you will be sure of it.
You will have smelled something flicker, and of that, too, you will be sure. But you will not know how.

But I wonder if you will notice the tone that will slowly cover the exit?

Perhaps you will scream.
Perhaps you will notice that you do not have legs. Who will have made the decision to send you here, without legs? We will see, I would wager.

Will there be the certainty of a going to, or will the future always just contain the maybe, maybe not, and the question mark of the will?

Perhaps there will be nothing. Nothing, but the knowledge that all there is and all there can ever be has already been cataloged and researched, and that we have, after so long, finally reached the end.

And what then?

What will you do, when you realize that whatever you combine, it will only result in something that you already know?

What, indeed?
Of things within: Addendum
My jab at :iconunseen-writers:'s Monthly Challenge for July 2014, Tier One, 323 words.

I whipped this up in an hour after reading the prompt and my fondness of H.P. Lovecraft's writing style is not at all concealed, so I won't be at all surprised if it doesn't cut it. Had fun writing it, though, and I need to keep writing.
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What wonders lie beyond the infinite blackness so far beyond our window sills? What terrors, what mysteries, what utter strangenesses are there all around us, and yet but our minds can hope to reach so far as to grasp even the littlest bit of them, but can seldom hope to understand?

What lies there, growing, waiting, watching, like we are? What hides there, its infinite childlike curiosity stretched to its utmost, just a word away from touch? What exists there, in the folds of reality which we cannot fathom? What exists there, which we cannot fathom now, but perhaps in a thousand years?

We are so small.

So short, so seemingly insignificant, and yet we build upon another and grow and grow and grow, forevermore pushing our borders until we break them and grow even further. So short are our lives, mere blinks of an eye from the view of this planet.

Do planets dream?

Do we dream?

Where is this place, in which we dream?

Where is this place, in which the planets dream?

What do we all dream of?

Where does it end?

Does it ever end?

Will there be mysteries that cannot be solved, no matter how deep we dig into the code and DNA of the universe?

Will we one day find that solar flares are just the stars speaking to each other, yelling as loud as they can without burning the little colourful rocks surrounding them since as long as they can remember?

What do the stars speak about?

What do the stars dream about?
so yeah. real life. tumblr. inability to produce stuff. fanfictions. homestuck.
sorry.

extranzia tagged me tho!

* You must post these rules.
* Answer the questions the tagger set for you in their post,
and then create ten new questions for the people you tag to answer.

You have to choose 10 people to tag and post their icons on your journal.
* Go to their pages and tell them you have tagged her/him.
* No tag backs.
* No crap in the tagging section about "you are tagged if you're reading this."
You legitimately have to tag 10 people.
Watch your grammar!

(nuuuuh i dont know that many people here anymore and i already annoyed some people w/ tags, so do it if you want?)

1) Favourite colour?

black. hands down. followed by dark blue, green, red, and then neon orange.

2) What would you like to see me, Extranzia, write?

....?

3) If you could do anything without consequence what would it be?

Redistribute wealth and government seats. and crush the patriarchy.

4) What do you dream of?

spending my life as an archivar or a librarian with old and valuable documents. or become an accomplished writer, but hahahahaha nice joke. i cant churn out enough to do that, sadly.
in terms of dream-dreams, usually weird shit.

5) Who is your favourite author?

Luka Grindstaff

6) How would you react if caught under mistletoe?

what mistletoe? -hides scissors behind back-

7) Looking back at this past year, what event would you change?

dont go home over the semester break, at least not for longer than 3 weeks. also get a plus guarantee for your new laptop so that when you let it fall down, it'll get repaired.

8) What would you do when invisible?

start making pics that wouldve been impossible otherwise. go to places i otherwise cant go. sell the pics, make money. have fun. maybe prank people?

9) Where would you travel to, if you could travel to any place either fictional or real?

ooooh, many places!! the incipisphere, my fantasy setting, the discworld....

10) Why did you first join DeviantArt?

good question. i dont remember any more, but i think to expose my creations to more people.


Ten questions for whoever wants to do this!
1) Ever pulled an all-nighter because of an interesting story you read? If yes, which story was it?
2) Is there a fictional character you'd like to meet?
3) Favourite article of clothing?
4) How often do you read a book/comic / watch a TV show/film and think "what would the characters from X do in this situation?"?
5) How often were you admonished for doodling/writing/sleeping in class?
6) Language(s) you want to learn?
7) Ever looked at a book/comic/tv show/film you absolutely loved as a child, now as an adult, and asked yourself how you could stand its flaws? If yes, name the show and some of its flaws, and maybe why you still like it?
8) What do your walls look like?
9) Imagine you are in charge of creating a video/computer game, what kind of game would it be?
10) A nonfictional person you'd like to hug?

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SulZala's Profile Picture
SulZala
whimsical Observant
Artist | Hobbyist | Varied
Germany
20-something agender, studying library & information science and computer science in berlin
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:iconbaconbaka:
BaconBaka Featured By Owner Sep 17, 2013   Digital Artist
Happy Birthday!
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:iconextranzia:
Extranzia Featured By Owner Dec 2, 2012  Student Writer
You've been tagged: [link]
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:iconbluehazerd:
bluehazerd Featured By Owner Sep 17, 2012  Hobbyist Photographer
:airborne::party: happy birthday :party::airborne:
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:iconsulzala:
SulZala Featured By Owner Sep 17, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
thank you!! ^^_^^ -hugs-
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:iconbluehazerd:
bluehazerd Featured By Owner Sep 17, 2012  Hobbyist Photographer
you're welcome and happy birthday again:hug:
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:iconsulzala:
SulZala Featured By Owner Sep 17, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
<3
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:iconl0u1sa:
L0u1sa Featured By Owner Aug 7, 2012   General Artist
Thank you for faving my new costume!
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:iconsulzala:
SulZala Featured By Owner Aug 8, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
You're welcome ::D
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:iconepicmushroom:
Epicmushroom Featured By Owner Jul 26, 2012
Thanks for the watch!
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:iconsulzala:
SulZala Featured By Owner Jul 28, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
You're welcome :)
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