Good lord, am I actually still consistantly working on the same project?
I’ll admit it: For all that my Mercury (ie, the astrological indicator of communication/writing style) is running rampant in Scorpio, my overall approach to writing projects is still very very much taken over by my airy Libra sun.
That is, I want to write ALL OF THE THINGS ALL OF THE TIME, am therefore almost completely incapable of choosing between them and confining myself to any one or two projects, and instead jump about maniacally. (It doesn’t help that my aforementioned Mercury is essentially on astrological steroids and ridiculously overactive, and seems to spawn even more ideas every time I turn around. My brain is a hopeless, if happily creative, mess.)
But lo and behold, this whole clockpunk Pied Piper thing is somehow managing to stick around! I can’t say that I was anticipating this, but I also can’t say that I’m not pleased. :)
And this week? We finally do get our very first glimpse of the elusive Piper himself!
The Piper was a travesty of colour.
His clothing seemed to encompass every colour found in nature; from all the shades of sky (blues and blacks and reds and rose), to the greens and browns of trees, to the rainbows of wildflowers found beneath, to the golds and silvers and coppers and grey buried deeper still inside the earth itself.
There was no rhyme or reason to their array, all cobbled together haphazardly and jaggedly like the stones in the city’s poorest streets. She was not even entirely sure that she could rightly call the things that he wore ‘clothes’; they were merely strange comglomerations of fabric arrayed over his form, held together with equally haphazard stitching. Threadbare satins stretched over velvets with no clear distinction between them, the velvet’s fuzz shoving its way up through the satin’s shine and threatening to rub even more of it away.
In other places, the space gapping between fabrics could fit her entire finger, if she dared come close enough to touch.