Oh wow. wow. WOW.
Jun. 3rd, 2012 01:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tinhuvielartanisI did not realise I still had this. It's the reason I thanked Tim in the acknowledgements of The Chalice. He planted the seeds just a bare few months before the sudden birth of Cadmus Pariah. I think he wrote this in response to my nattering about Lilith (who eventually became Kelat in the final drafts), when she was the initial villain in the bare bones of the story I was trying to write. The cup was his idea. The first Relic belonged to him. Many times I wished I'd kept the chalice drabble. And I did. I find it really ironic and symbolic that I found this on the ten-year anniversary of the Cliffs of Insanity. Here is what he wrote.
The first rays of morning searched and probed its way through the canopy of dark and steamy equatorial cypress and fern, until at last it softly touched the rim of the chalice which seemed almost to flinch as if being branded with a hot iron. Still half buried in a mixture of rotting mulch and silt, the chalice breathed its first breath of moist air in almost four hundred years. The golden cup, still crusted with red rubies and diamonds from Imperial English Court had lost none of its lustre or forboding power. Tropical rains usually raise the rivers over their brims to spread over the marshes and glens, but last night's thundering downpour had elevated the water to new heights and, for the first time in centuries, the vein-covered temple ruins were washed clean of leaves and soil. Even the sacrificial mould was literrally carried in half by the torrent to reveal the secrets that lay buried for generations. The time had come for the evil shadow to raise its despised head and once again greedily consume men's hearts and souls. The modern world could scarcely dream of such dark secrets and powers that that would shortly camp about their realm of security and lighted cities.
I am gobsmacked. Just completely and utterly gobsmacked.
The first rays of morning searched and probed its way through the canopy of dark and steamy equatorial cypress and fern, until at last it softly touched the rim of the chalice which seemed almost to flinch as if being branded with a hot iron. Still half buried in a mixture of rotting mulch and silt, the chalice breathed its first breath of moist air in almost four hundred years. The golden cup, still crusted with red rubies and diamonds from Imperial English Court had lost none of its lustre or forboding power. Tropical rains usually raise the rivers over their brims to spread over the marshes and glens, but last night's thundering downpour had elevated the water to new heights and, for the first time in centuries, the vein-covered temple ruins were washed clean of leaves and soil. Even the sacrificial mould was literrally carried in half by the torrent to reveal the secrets that lay buried for generations. The time had come for the evil shadow to raise its despised head and once again greedily consume men's hearts and souls. The modern world could scarcely dream of such dark secrets and powers that that would shortly camp about their realm of security and lighted cities.
-Tim Hutchins
8-22-'89
8-22-'89
I am gobsmacked. Just completely and utterly gobsmacked.
