Eoin at sunrise riding in ship wearing plague doctor mask and red cloak.  Kavordian Library.  Fyskar.


The buffed leather, strange and foreign, gleamed warmly in the frost bitten air.  Brass fittings around the green glass provided a comically macabre pair of eyes to the mask.  The stitching was meticulous, not worked at great speed, but with love and dedication for the craft.  The mask had been provided a pair of dark canvas faux nares in an effort to create the illusion of an avian face.  The silver cap had been manipulated to create a division between the mandibles and a deadly looking tip.  The impression overall was that of an exotic, scavenging bird enclosed in a shawl of it’s own feastings.

The cold air swept under his cloak as he made his way up the rocky slope that would take him deeper into the village.  The red leather billowed about him, startling roosting birds into flight. The breath of the sky swirled and groped, trying futilely to find a purchase into his vestments.  Though his light tan spadderdashes and deep red boots hugged his calves and crawled their way up, trying to caress his knees, they could not quite reach, allowing a pair of pure white stockings to peak out between their edge and the hem of his breeches.  A little old fashioned, tucking them under the hem, but it felt more comfortable to him that way. Not that much could be seen of them save for the sky blue almost white waistcoat that skimmed the matching breeches’ hem edge. Leather gloves, matched in color to the beak mask, hugged the waistcoat sleeves up almost to the elbow, causing them to balloon about the joints.

He knew where he was going, as long as the Drum and Flask Tavern had not burned since he had last left it.  Rock, Tudor-style buildings rose on both sides of the street. Raw sewage crept as a melting river down the middle of the path.  He hugged close to the east side of the buildings, enjoying what warmth he could hope to glean from the foggy sunrise. Not much had changed. He recognized the older villagers and could guess at the lineage of the younger beginning their morning chores . They, however, only skittered out of his way when they noticed his presence.  All they saw was a haunting figure signifying death that had been at best second hand news from years ago.

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State of Fear

I am a writer and artist working through the Kavordian Library series. I write sci-fi, fantasy, lgbt romance.

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