The kitsune sat herself down in midair, six tails swishing behind and below her, and looked at the mask in her hands. It was carved, though it was hard to say if it was wood or something else—it had properties of wood, shell, ceramic, even metal, but wasn’t quite like any of them either. It was an artistic rendition of a fox face, at once both very different and very similar to the face of the one who held it. It was, after all, her face now.
Kitsune, as beings of magic, had their own long standing traditions and culture, and since kitsune were practically immortal, those cultures and traditions had lasted for thousands of
Coyote's Fury And Failure by Yrucrem91, literature
Literature
Coyote's Fury And Failure
“Anything you can do, I can do too! Anything you can do, I can do better than you-u-u-u!” Taunted Coyote, god of chaos, tricks, and mischief. Many, many tried to prove him wrong; every time, whatever they did, Coyote would mimic perfectly—or, if he had seen something before, he would do it better. Coyote knew many, many secrets; most, he’d gladly reveal to show that he knew, or to cause trouble. One secret though, greatest of all, he would never, EVER tell anyone. This great secret was that, though Coyote could copy anything, try as he might, he couldn’t do anything he hadn’t witnessed first. If someone climbed the highest, most unreachable peak, Coyote would laugh and do it as well. If he saw an unbeatable monster defeated, he would beat another monster the same way. If someone outran light, traveled through time, whatever it was, Coyote did just like they. But Coyote couldn’t do anything first. He could draw, but only what he’d seen put on paper. He could speak, but never say a word
“Heh, I always know right where to find you when it rains,” Zen said, floating up over the edge of the roof and touching lightly down. “Well, is it a good thing that I’m so predictable? Or no?” Lilly asked, turning to look over at Zen. She sat among the rooftop gardens, leaning against a greenhouse. She stood up and shook herself out, spraying some of the water from her thoroughly soaked golden-blonde fur and hair, and her shirt and shorts as well. “I suppose that depends,” the taller human said, coming over and taking a seat next to his canine companion, who settled down again. “What brings you up here? Because if it’s that you’re sad or something…” Lilly shook her head, less vigorously this time so she wouldn’t spray Zen with rainwater. “Nothing of the sort,” she said. “I used to think that rain was dreary and sad, and when I was first learning about God, I heard that rain was from Him crying…it was a long time before anybody told me a different, happy perspective about
It’s something easy to forget. It makes no sound, and if you don’t seek it out, you’re unlikely to find it, or if you do, you’ll walk right past it thinking that it’s not what you want. But we need it, the same way we need air. Not all the time, but on occasion. We have to step away from our busy lives, slow down, and seek out that essential of life that’s become so hard to find—silence.
For me, silence is especially hard to find; my hearing is so sensitive that I can hear my own heartbeat, as well as the drums ensconced in the ribs of those nearby. Fluorescent lights buzz, computers whirr and hum, ev
Weightless blanket covers all,
Turning artifice edges soft,
Entwining radiance and shadow
Lights like glimpsing fairies,
Promise magic is near
My two wheeled steed
Rides through the quiet
A moving stone in
A river of stillness
I exhale into mist
Breathing, feeling, at peace
Breathe mist into me
Woven with the night,
Where sky and ground
Embrace as tender lovers
Eloped from the sun
Fenlise found his usual bench, one of the ones that was just a little bit out of the way and rarely occupied by anyone else. It was also in decent light to read, but the trees that dotted the area also gave it a measure of nearby shade. From the satchel at his side, he pulled out a small collection of books, debating between them for a moment before taking one and opening it to a waiting bookmark. He started reading, without hurry, speaking aloud. He spoke as if to an audience, but there wasn’t a living soul anywhere in sight. If anyone should come along and question why he read to apparently empty air, Fenlise had a collection of