Spindle's Manor

Chapter 1: The Curse

Rita_Thief12345678 the Green Ixi

Rita's Tapestry is filled with adventures, archery, and tons of fun. She's quite independent, and knows a lot about the forest and it's creatures and plants. There's also a few threads that explain about her issues with a certain darigan ixi.

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Vawghn the Darigan Ixi

Vawghn's Tapestry is a perfect example of a double life. On one hand, he's the guardian of a bustling city at night, protecting it from crime as a masked crusader for good. On the other hand, he's an awkward and anti-social bookshop owner. There's a few interesting parts of his story that involve a green eyed and green haired ixi girl.

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Fan Writing from Kathleen_Kate!

Wind whispered to the cold night and the moon hung low above the valley. The chilling cries of creatures were enough to make any traveler shiver with fright. The branches of the trees reached toward the sky, as though trying to steal the stars themselves from their perch.

A lone castle stood on the precipice of the cliff, its towers high and the gates surrounding it made of pure black iron. The halls of the castle were lit with fire from the torches, but the chill still remained somehow. Not as cold, but as fear.

Her room was even colder. She sat there, by one of her looms, sorting the threads. Without a word, she began. Her nimble fingers worked quickly, the tapestry before her coming alive. The image of a baby, sweet and innocent, took shape. A mother, and a father, holding her close. Golden fur and blue eyes...

The plushie Ixi stopped as suddenly as she had started. She stood without a word ans sat at the next loom. An Aisha with brown hair and green eyes pranced in a field of flowers. A cobrall hid in the flowers and for a moment there was sorrow in the Ixi's icy eyes. She shut them, and shut the feeling out. She wove again, this time picturing the Aisha older, somewhat wiser, sitting in a chair with wheels.

With every thread, with every finished picture, she spun someone's fate as one did a story. She showed what could be, and what was. She rarely had to go back and undo her work. Rarely was she wrong, but there were those few moments, those times a person simply refused to accept their fate.

She admired their courage, but would never say so... could never say so. She was trapped by fate as most of them were, awaiting a brother who had already taken a lifetime. She was forced to stay here, to do this ghastly work, to see lives begin and end, to feel as though she knew the person only to have to spin the end of their tale. It hurt.

She moved on, glancing blankly at the next few tapestries before selecting one. She sat herself down, stared at the image of the brown Hissi before her, and began to weave...

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The storm had been long in coming, and its ferocity would not surprise any who had wandered the desert for years. There he stood, amidst it all, staff in hand. He battled the storm, his cloak drawn over his face to try and filter out the sand. Heir to a throne he did not want, wanderer to the desert he loved so much.

She wove an encounter, a meeting with a young human girl. A girl with brown hair and blue-rimmed glasses. She wove the decision, his decision - he would stay in the desert. The girl left, and with her she took his chance at a home. She-

Spindle's head spun and her weaving ceased. No. No, she was wrong. The slightest smile crossed her lips as her hands shook to undo the work she had put down. She rearranged the threads and began again.

She spun a home with a family much larger than he could have imagined, one that cared for him more than he could know. A family of all shapes and sizes, every single one of them unique and amazing in their own ways. They would change him. They would take away the wandering spirit and replace it with something more - love. She spun the happy spark in his eyes; she spun the laughter, the cheer; she spun his home.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

pindle paused for a moment. Such a lovely home it was... She bit her lip to chase away the feelings, stood up, and began at the next loom.

This tapestry was a little different. It was divided in two, one side submerged in night's glow, the other shining with day's light. There he stood, upon one of the roofs of the 'Central, guarding the night. And again, on the steps of a small bookshop.

His life was interesting, to say the least, an archer by night and a humble shopowner by day. He took upon himself the duty of keeping the streets safe, and he almost never faltered.

Almost. Her hands wove the pattern of the archer wounded in an alley, his bookshop having been trashed after a hectic search. She wove the pain on his face, in his heart. She could almost see his last thoughts, of a pretty green Ixi, just as his eyes closed... Just as he took his last glimpse of the world and blacked ou- Ouch!

Spindle ceased her waving. Again? It happened again? What was causing these mistakes? She rarely had one mishap in a month, but now two in one day? Something... strange was happening. She stood from her loom and paused. Perhaps she should take a rest. Just for now.

As she closed her eyes, the Ixi saw the family again, only this time, she did not know whose tapestry the image belonged to. Could it be? Perhaps... Perhaps it was her own?

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