#7 snippets 7 People

[autumnalwalker]

Seven Snippets Seven People (Part 1)

Thank you for the tag, @mysticstarlightduck.

I've actually had two of this tag game sitting in my Drafts for a while now, and given what I just wrote last night for Chapter 21 of Empty Names I thought it might be fun to combine them a bit. This most recently written bit was basically one long sequence of Eris tripping out and losing her sense of self due to exposure to a Lovecraftian eldritch entity and experiencing warped hallucinatory versions of old memories that have either happened or been referenced earlier in the story.

So I thought it would be fun to put all those scenes back-to-back with the earlier parts that they're referencing.

But before I get started, softly passing the tag to @talesofsorrowandofruin, @druidx, @emeraldmew, @oh-no-another-idea, @ceph-the-ghost-writer, @theimperium, @acertainmoshke, and the usual open tag for anyone else who wants it.

(And here's the link to Part 2)

(Content Warning for some violence and mild body horror.)

Starting off with a conversation between Eris and Gretchen (her ex) a bit before this whole sequence starts:

“I’m sorry,” Gretchen says.  “Like you said, I wasn’t really myself when I was going on like that.”

“No, you weren’t.”

“It’s just… You know what it’s like.  The rush, the thrill, the anticipation.  The drumbeat in the back of your head that seems too loud to be simply your own heart.  The electric tingle down your spine that spreads through your whole body.  The way smell and taste start blurring together and your other senses all start feeding each other so that the whole world seems more.  The craving.  The memory of blood’s viscosity and the way a drop’s trail down the back of your hand catches on all the little hairs and gathers in the pores and creases.  The constant knowledge of how good the climax of the hunt feels.  Has felt.  Will feel next time.”

“I do.  All the more reason for you not to go in there.”

“It’s like that all the time now.  Even basking in that moment right after a kill it only ebbs away to a murmur.  It’s enough to make you think it might not be so bad if you never felt anything else.”

“Only ever feeling one thing?  Sounds like death to me, and I’d rather die as myself.”

Gretchen’s laugh is soft and bitter.  “You always say that.  Have you ever stopped to think that it might be becoming more yourself, not less?”

Now let us rewind a bit, back to the side story "There Are No Dogs In the Dog Park" with a scene from the POV of a werewolf being helped through her first transformation by Eris:

Howling.  All around her.  Inside her.  From her.  From her?

Lights growing so bright.  Nearly hurts. Colors warping draining distorting.  No more red.  No more green.  Wash of blues and yellows and grays. 

So loud.  Noises deafening.  Too much all at once.  Smells too.  So many.  So sharp.  Sickening. 

“She’s panicking!”

“First time’s always a trip.  She’ll get through it.”

Skin crawling.  Stretching.  Bones cracking, extending, filling in.  Doesn’t hurt but feels wrong.  Alien.  Itchy.  Where’s the mass coming from?  Can’t think about that.  Itches too much.  Outside and in.  Try to scratch.  Skin feels too soft.  Scratch feels too sharp. 

Look down.  Flinch back up.  Down again.  Arms covered in fur.  Hands end in claws.  Muscle growing as she watches.  She whimpers. 

“Sarah.  Sarah, look at me.”

Look up again.  Piercing eyes.  Solid face.  Holding her in place without touching.  An anchor. 

“You’re going to be alright.  Just breathe.  Take it slow.”

Nod.  Try to speak.  To say “okay.”  Hear a bark instead. 

Clap hands to mouth.  Hit her face too soon.  Mouth and nose are too far out.  Don’t think of the word for it.  Don’t make it real. 

Try to stand up.  Stumble.  Center of mass is all wrong.  Joints don’t bend right.  Body so heavy.  Struggle back up.  Look around.  Surrounded by wolves and things that are almost wolves but wrong.  Where is she?  How did she get here?

“Sarah…”

People here too.  Staring at her.  Why are they looking at her?  Please stop looking at her.  Go away.  Get away.  Need to get away.

“She’s running!”

“It’s fine!  She just needs time to work through it.  Follow but give her space!”

Keep moving.  Two legs?  Four?  Which works better?  Find a rhythm.  Pick up speed.  Just need to get away.  Can’t get away from herself.  Something wrong inside her.  Need to get it out.  Get it out!

Fence ahead.  Trapped.  In a cage.  Need to get it out.  Need to get out.  Need to escape. 

“She’s going for the fence!”

“Should I tranq her?”

“Jeez, calm down guys.  Don’t worry, I got this.”

Hand on the chainlinks, furry and clawed.  Is that really her hand?  Who else’s could it be?  Feels wrong.  What does right even look like?  Stop looking.  Just climb.  Pull to climb.  Pulling rips the metal away.  Breaks the links.  Snaps and pops hurt her ears.  Too loud.  Everything is too loud.  So strong.  Monstrously strong.  She’s a monster.  She’s a monster.  She’s -

“Sarah…”

Is that her name?  Is that her?

Turn around.  Someone right behind her.  Looks familiar.  Looks too small.  

“I know yer freaking out right now, but I’m going to need ya to get away from the fence.  Can’t have you getting lost out there.”

Solid presence.  An anchor.  Remember to breathe.  A hand extended.  Reach out to take it.

“That’s right.  Now let’s get you back to the others.”

Now then, let's us look at the nightmare version of that:

Eris is hunting.

A chill wind blows across a moonlit prairie.  The rush, the thrill, the anticipation, are almost too much to bear as she chases down a pack of lupine shadows.  One falls to a spear.  Another is caught by its tail and dragged to the ground.  A third turns and raises itself on two legs to face its hunter.  Its claws meet with only open air.  Her claws meet with its heart.

There is a disappointing lack of blood.  They are naught but shadows afterall.

The pack’s lone survivor sprints for the treeline, wild with fear, only to find a chainlink fence between itself and safety.  She is still half human, and her eyes are fully so when she looks back at her hunter.

There’s a name Eris should remember and call out at this part.  She doesn’t, but what does it matter?  It’s just a beast.

What was she hunting again?  It doesn’t matter.  It’s all just prey in the end.

The clock turns back to another conversation between Eris and Gretchen, reminiscing on old times:

Eris gasps in mock indignation.  “Me?  A menace?”

“You got an amusement park shut down.”

“Miraclezone Fun Park had already closed its doors for four whole days by the time we got there, thank you very much.  You know, on account of all the mysterious deaths that got our attention in the first place.”

“Maybe, but derailing a roller coaster so that it crashes into the middle of an amphitheater certainly didn’t help their odds of reopening once the weird ape spider things that were eating the night shift employees were dealt with.”

“Says the woman who decided to draw the beasts out by plugging her phone into the sound system, turning on all the stage lights, and doing a solo dance number without realizing how many there were infesting the park.  You’re lucky my aim was good enough to take out half of them when I landed.”

“More like you’re lucky I was fast enough to dodge that mess.  I’ll hand it to you though, you made one helluva first impression climbing out of the wreckage, ripping off one of the coaster’s safety bars one-handed and using it as a club to lay into the rest of the… what even were those things anyway?”

“Some alchemist’s escaped mad science experiments.  It was in the Crossherd papers a few days later when the guy got bagged for a gross violation of the Masquerade after the cops showed up and found a bunch of dead eight-legged monkeys.”  Eris shakes her head in exasperation.  “I still can’t believe we didn’t get caught for that.”

“Fitzy’s always been good at covering for his bar’s patrons.  It’s half the point of 121813.”  Gretchen pauses, searching her memory.  “That night was your first time there, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.  You offered to buy me a drink and I was too busy trying to hide the fact that my arm was broken to turn you down.”

“Your arm was broken?”

“And a few ribs.  Did something to my ankle too, but by that point I already had a good grasp on how fast I heal and I was trying to look cool for the chick who was killing rabid chimeras with a spear in time with the baseline on metal music blasting from stadium speakers.”

But this memory too can become twisted:

The chainlink fence rattles and shrieks when she tears it down and stalks between the support struts of the rollercoaster.  The drumbeat in the back of her head seems too loud to simply be her own heart.  Perhaps it is the music pounding from that amphitheater over there.  Eight-legged shadows leap from support strut to support strut and skitter along the tracks above.  What an annoyance, that noise is luring her prey away from her.  

A freezing from the spear, a few good kicks, and a mighty heave are all it takes to knock out the nearest pylon and set the entire rollercoaster around her crashing down.  The music of the collapsing metal all around her is enough to drown out the metal of the music from the amphitheater, but the drumbeat in her skull is louder still.

She steps on one of the wretched chimerical shadows trying to free itself from the wreckage as she stalks toward the alleyway behind the amphitheater.

Oh, yes, that’s right.  She’s hunting Gretchen.  The snake, the spider, her lioness.

A moment of comparative memory from Lacuna's POV, back in Chapter 10, in the wake of the team's first mission together as a group:

It is well and truly night by the time the two of them ascend the stairwell of their building.  Neither of them break the heavy silence as they pass Lacuna’s floor on by up to Eris’s together.  Lacuna strains to keep from grunting as Eris leans on her more heavily than she had been for the last ten minutes - ever since she started limping - while she fishes out her keys and opens the door to her apartment.  It’s Lacuna who quietly flips the lightswitch as they step inside and then gently shuts and locks the door behind them.

It’s not the first time Lacuna’s helped her friend to bed.  That had been about three months after meeting her, and had thoroughly killed the crush she’d had on her at the time but thankfully been too scared to confess.  The fact that Eris took to calling her “sis” not long after had nailed said crush’s coffin shut tight.  But in all honesty, she prefers their relationship this way.

It is however the first time Lacuna’s seen what got her friend into this state for herself.  Sure, even that first time Eris had regaled her with the dramatic tale of the monster hunt that left her tired enough and badly cut enough to ask for help getting home (that one had been something called a “hodag”), but she’d always found her friend already some distance away from wherever the battle had taken place, even on the night when she took Eris to Doc’s instead of home.  And even on that worst night, sitting in the waiting room of the clinic they met at, the reality of what her best and only friend does for fun never truly sunk in until now.

What was that first encounter that made Eris ask Lacuna to help her get home? It wasn't this. This is just a twisted shadow of that memory cut short...

The alleyway is awash with the scent of buzzard meat, skunk perfume, and pine scented car air freshener emanating from the dumpster at the far end.  An electric tingle runs down her spine and spreads through her whole body as she walks past the garbage truck that has taken her to so many trailheads with signs of new quarry within the dream-born city.  The shadow that erupts from the refuse is all horns, claws, spines, and teeth.  It is long enough to wrap itself around her, heavy enough to pull her down to the ground when it does, and vicious enough to keep wrestling with her even after she snaps off its saber fangs.

She recalls a dim memory that this thing once hurt her badly enough that she called for help to return to her home lair afterward.  The one who answered should never have had to see her like that.  She will make this shadow pay for that.

By the time she realizes the shadow is dead and gone, the pavement is shattered, the dumpster is rent in twain, and the engine of the garbage truck she was once responsible for is totalled.  There is no proper satiation to hunting shadows.  All chase and fight, but no release.  She retrieves her spear and vaults over the wall at the end of the alleyway.  Perhaps when she finds her true prey at the end of this she will bring satisfaction.

No, that’s not right, she’s supposed to be searching for Gretchen, not hunting her.

(Continued in Part 2)

[tabswrites]

7 Snippets, 7 People Pt. 2

I was tagged by @ceph-the-ghost-writer here and @winterandwords here! Thanks to you both :)

I decided to share some snippets from a couple of my sidelined WIPs that I still have some love for, as well as ToL!

Rules: Share 7 snippets and tag 7 people!

1. Ascension (side WIP) Ch. 1

The knight surrendered to him willingly. He stood at the entrance of the fur-lined tent, the torchlight casting shadows on his angular face. His armor, it seemed, had been left behind, leaving him barefoot in a plain blue jacket and brown linen trousers that hung loosely from his hips.

“I’ve come for my men,” he stated clearly, staring directly into the prince’s eyes.

He tilted his head to the side and gave him a crooked smile–indulging the knight’s boldness, for now. “One man in exchange for three? I’m not so sure that’s a fair trade, human.”

The knight seemed to anticipate his reluctance and grinned with ease, two tiny dents becoming visible on each side of his face. “No? What about the location of the Umbra?” He took a step forward and lowered his voice. “What is that worth to the prince of demons?”

2. Ascension, Ch. 3

He watched the crocodile continue to sit there, unmoving, a single green eye staring at him with a thin, vertical pupil. It unnerved him more than he cared to admit–and he didn’t scare easily. “Does she have a name, Madame Kosara?”

“Graisse,” she replied with a bigger grin. “It means ‘fat’, for she is fat and happy.” The amusement slid off her face as she got to her feet, the wooden floor creaking beneath her. “Can you say the same for your people, young prince?

3. Ascension, Creation Myth

It is said that the sun was born first, and lived alone for thousands years in her palace of clouds. This was a time when the land had not yet formed, so as she gazed down at the world below, she saw only the endless blue sea. She took comfort in the monotony of the glittering mirror that reflected her melancholic existence. It was nice to have the world to herself, but it was lonely and unchanging. When she would sleep, sometimes she would open her eyes, hoping to see something new, but all she saw was light. Her light.

4. Ascension, Prologue

Before Lady Itis severed the soul of the woman she loved, she gave her one last kiss. The taste, once so sweet, turned bitter as they parted, and how could it not with all the blood between them? The war had ended, but man’s violence was unforgiving and ceaseless. Itis had grown used to seeing the shadows of grief in Queen Sadira’s eyes, but they had consumed her as of late, leaving a fractured shell in her place. When she came to her and asked to be sealed beneath the earth, Itis felt no surprise, only deep sorrow.

5. Tomb of Light, Ch. 4

“Well, well, well.” A voice said just above his head. He twisted his neck and looked directly into a pair of the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. They were a deep blue, so dark they were nearly black, with tiny starbursts of silver around slitted black pupils. Slitted pupils? They floated above a low-hanging tree branch. As he watched, the branch brightened into a pleasant shade of moss green, revealing an otherworldly creature so strange he nearly collapsed at the sight of it.

It was a cat, he guessed, or a cat with some sort of flesh-eating disease that had left it completely hairless. As it stretched out its tiny feet he noticed it had long, webbed toes that bent back at awkward angles. Upon closer examination he determined the cat was not only hairless, but covered in tiny scales like the snakes he used to find in his backyard, though these scales looked much softer. He watched as they changed color once more, this time to bright yellow.

6. ToL, Ch. 6

It was then he was forced to acknowledge what he had been avoiding–he was disgraced, just like her, and no amount of posturing would convince people to ignore the shadow that had settled over him once his uniform had been stripped away. He was a fool to think he could outrun it. The plain black trousers, gray tunic and black boots were all he had left–even his beloved sword, a gift from his father, had been taken from him. He had nothing left but a bitter taste in his mouth and the looming shadow of the girl he loved.

“I don’t know what to do,” he said finally, lowering his head.

“Then stand aside and wait for someone to tell you.”

There it was–control, just within reach, slipping through his fingers like smoke.

7. What We Long For (abandoned WIP)

“As time passed, I watched the small lines on her forehead become more pronounced and her black hair became peppered with gray before she reached the age of 30. I asked her about it once, when I was nothing more than a bratty high school freshman with poor social skills.

She gave me one of her biggest smiles. ‘Who even cares about wrinkles? One day you’ll realize that all of the marks on your skin, every scar, every freckle–they make up constellations that tell the story of how you lived to see another day.’”

Gently tagging: @writingmaidenwarrior @athenswrites @talesofsorrowandofruin @pandoras-comment-box @mysticstarlightduck @pheita @mthollowell-writes

[sam-glade]

Seven Snippets, Seven People

Tagged by @mariahwritesstuff here, and @writingmaidenwarrior here. Thank you!

Tagging (no pressure): @thedahliafrog @mjparkerwriting @sarahlizziewrites @gummybugg @frostedlemonwriter @late-to-the-fandom @i-can-even-burn-salad

Rules: post 7 snippets, and tag 7 people.

This time I'm going with seven character descriptions, most from Lissan's POV:

Anthea

She strode towards him, her wine-red gown swishing around her ankles. Her Sword was at her hip, together with a richly decorated sabre. Now she looked like a prince — like she’d stepped out of the photographs in the newspapers or textbooks. She was also taller than he’d thought, an inch or two taller than him. She was followed by a man in ashen uniform. He had the most vibrant hair Lissan had ever seen; its copper waves fell past his shoulders, framing a strong jaw and otherwise plain pale face with eyes the colour of storm.

Ianim

A young man — maybe a couple decades older than him — knelt on the ground within an arm’s reach. Lissan blinked, struggling to tell apart his ashen uniform from the steel clouds. The ashen uniform of the Army. A uniform he had hoped to see before he’d almost died. He was too exhausted to point it out though. Striking blue eyes were looking back at him with concern, from a face that was too pale and clean in the muddy, churned field. His skin was smooth, unmarred by scars or even pockmarks, and his hair was arranged into thick, dark waves. He was healthy and well-nourished. With the thin straight nose and angular features that came to a point at his chin, something about him screamed ‘highborn’ — yes, good-looking, gorgeous even, but too distant, as if he came from a different world entirely.

Varré

“We’ll have time to take in the views tomorrow,” someone snapped at him, a short person waiting next to Gullin in the shadow of the tree. Their strong voice belied their physique. It had to be Master Varré, the mentor Ianim told him about. “Ianim, you’ve been here before?” “Yes, Lieutenant General.” “Sir’s fine for short, kid.” They were shorter than Lissan by a head, and while Ianim appeared slim, they were outright tiny. Lissan couldn’t quite make out their features beyond a pale nose hooked like a beak of a bird of prey, and light, silky hair parted into two wavy curtains. And yes, of course they had a Weapon; it looked very much like a city guard’s sabre, its blade curved, its guard arched over the grip. A pistol was held in a holster at their other hip.

Marta

Marta was waiting for them in the door, in her worn blouse and favourite green skirt that reached past her knees that were mostly covered by an apron. Her hair was falling out of an attempt at a single braid — her first shearing took place not even two years ago, marking her coming of age at thirty-five, and her hair barely reached past her shoulders now. It was a lighter shade of brown, like Lissan’s, although he had worn his as short as it was cut during his first shearing. Her face was round and tanned, but still dusted with a smattering of faded summer’s freckles, also just like his. They stood apart from their neighbours — mere miles away from the southern border of the Princedom of Light, darker olive skin and almost black hair was a lot more common.

Erya (and Catnip)

[Gullin's POV]

Gullin had always found General Erya’s office overly gloomy. The heavy curtains were perpetually drawn — especially in the middle of the day — and crystal lamps illuminated the room with artificial light. Her powers manifested subtly in the shadows extending from the corners and seeping from under the desk. He forced his attention away from them, as fascinating as figuring out where they should end was, and focused on the woman behind the desk.

She had strikingly pale skin and short-cropped hair, almost as short as his, white as paper. She wore her ashen double-breasted coatee buttoned up, her silver-rimmed buttons displaying eight-pointed stars. The cool light didn't do her appearance any favours, but then practicality always took precedence for her, and it was no secret that the albino disliked sunlight. Practicality was a priority for every Sword in IntSec. Well, maybe with the exception of Catnip.

The Third Brigadier lounged in a tall-backed chair next to his, her legs crossed casually, her grey breeches stretched tight over her toned thighs. A springy lock of her auburn hair twisted around her finger. A sparrow sat on her shoulder, and Gullin couldn’t tell if she was paying more attention to it or their commander. He sighed mentally. She was his senior by multiple centuries, and knew exactly how much she could get away with.

The White Dragon

Lissan didn’t try to anticipate what he would look like. Back home anyone who lived past three hundred years was a distinguished elder, with white hair and wrinkled, flagging skin, slowly losing their strength and fading. The man in the wheelchair was strong. His hair was grey, but dense and trimmed into short waves, just like Ianim wore his. He was similar to his grandson, although his features were heavier and his jaw more square. His face was expressive and full of colour, and his light eyes looked lively around the room. Despite his unbelievably long life and the injury which even the most powerful Crystals couldn’t undo, the White Dragon was full of energy and the will to live.

Gullin

Marta crossed her arms and looked at him expectantly. Lissan lowered the half-empty jug.

"What?"

"Were you always this bad at sensing Elemental manipulation or have your senses dulled?" she asked, now trying not to smile.

Lissan rolled his eyes.

"I repeat: what?"

Marta shook her head, unbothered by his exasperated look. He kept looking stubbornly at her, but she didn't budge.

"Hey, Lissan."

He span around; the jug slipped out of his fingers and water splashed the front of his shirt. He grabbed the vessel clumsily just before it fell, and looked up.

Gullin was standing in front of him, in the ashen uniform of the Army, with a greatcoat thrown over his shoulders, looking dashing as ever. There was no Sword at his side, only a holster with a gun and his Knife. His skin was brown with cold undertones, like the walnut wood Lissan's father sometimes worked with, and his hair was black and spiky. His keen eyes moved from Lissan to Marta, who was trying to stop snickering.

Days of Dusk taglist (please message me to +/-): @acertainmoshke @another-white-hole @poetinprose

[elshells]

7 Snippets 7 People

Tagged by @sam-glade and @writernopal (here and here)! This is such a fun one!!

So it sounds like I need to match snippets of my writing to the people I tag, which sounds cool! I can't explain my process here, because I don't have one. This was all based on vibes and intuition. Hope you enjoy it nevertheless!

Sam and Nopal, you're getting tagged again because you both are wonderful, but since I know you've done this before there's no pressure! Just sit back and enjoy haha

@bitchin-beskar (EMBR of the Earth, Chapter 1)

Sidney sighed. "That sounds boring. No offense. But when you're done with your boring job, we can play chess." Sidney had been obsessed with chess ever since their father had taught her how to play when she was six. And, being one of the youngest passengers at nine years old and unable to work a job, it had become one of the only ways for her to occupy herself. Only the digital version was available on the satellite, but she frequently complained that the AI opponents were too predictable. Tana shook her head. "I'm sorry, I can't today. Ask Miles." "But he's too good," Sidney groaned. "You're tough. Go kick him in the pants." Sidney giggled. "Really?" Tana arched an eyebrow. "No, not really. Not in the way you're thinking."

@writernopal (Agent Ace, Chapter 2: Harley)

“Harley Manalis? I know her!” The familiar voice behind her caught her attention. She grinned and spun back around. "Is that you, Jade de Soto?" Jade was already at the end of a dead sprint, meeting Harley in a spine-crushing embrace. They receive odd looks from a couple of passersby, but Harley didn't mind, laughing as she threw her arms around Jade. Her hair was soft and smelled like coconut. "I got all of your letters!" Jade's voice was muffled into her shoulder. "I'm so glad you're here!"

@sam-glade (EMBR of the Earth, Chapter 2)

"So, you got a bot back this morning?" Dr. Clay asked, strolling in behind her. "Yes," Tana said. "I checked it as soon as it arrived. I, uh—" "Save it; everyone else will be here in a couple of minutes," he told her. He gestured towards the thermos. "And what's that?" Tana felt her face redden as she twisted open the lid. "Soup." Dr. Clay chuckled. "Go ahead, Tana. Just try to wrap it up before we start." Tana took a seat at the far end of the table next to the screen, spooning the hot chicken noodle into her mouth. The soup left behind a stinging burn as it slipped down her throat, but she barely noticed it. Tight loops were beginning to form in her stomach, driving away all other trivial thoughts. Dr. Clay pulled a tiny remote out of his pocket and pointed it at the screen, which flickered to life. "IAN, pull up image four." Another satellite image appeared on the screen. it was similar to the one Tana had seen, except this one was zoomed out to feature all seven continents. The heat signatures were not yet visible, but Tana knew they were there.

@captain-kraken (Agent Ace, Chapter 3: Sophia)

Janus scoffed. “Agent Colbo, you wound me. But regardless, I have news for you.” "I don't care," she retort. "What are you going to do to Jet? Where's Max?" "I told you, that's none of you concern," he repeated firmly. "And before you dismiss me so soon, try to hear me out. I think you're going to want to hear what I have to say. Would you like the good news first, or the bad news?" "Good news for me, or good news for you?" "Depends on your attitude." Sophia fixed him with a withering look through the window. He grinned down at her, which only irritated her more.

@crowandmoonwriting (Agent Ace, Chapter 7: Harley, Part 2)

“The question is,” Jester continued flatly, “when you arrived at the apartment, what did you see? Anything out of the ordinary? Perhaps a suspect fleeing the scene?” Harley shook her head, sitting forward with her shoulders hunched and her eyes glued to the table. "They were gone by the time I arrived. The door was locked, but once I got in, all I—" "Wait." The agent cut her off. "Locked? The door wasn't open?" "They came in through the window." Harley showed him her bandaged hand. "There was glass everywhere." He gave her a puzzled frown. "The window?" "I think so. They must've." "How?" Jester demanded. "That window was on the second floor." "I know." Harley folded her arms across her chest and fiddled with the tips of her hoodie strings. "But they didn't come in through the door. I'm positive."

@mariahwritesstuff (Agent Ace, Chapter 9: Sophia, Part 2)

[Sophia] held up one finger. “First rule you learn in Guard training—when jumping from a great height, make sure to keep your knees bent. You don’t want to be too tense. Land on the balls of your feet, then tuck and roll, don’t stick the landing. And try not to look down, that won’t help you at all. Any questions?” Max stared back with a stricken face. "Uh, I—no?" "Believe in yourself. You can do this," Sophia insisted. She walked over to the edge of the rooftop to stand below the window. "If it looks like you won't make it, I'll be here to catch you. Whenever you're ready."

@ceph-the-ghost-writer (Encore, Chapter 2: The Magician's Contract)

"Can you put that down?" Cece snapped. Red raised an eyebrow, but she slammed the book shut. Cece took in a deep, shuddering breath. "There'a a reason I never looked back at that book after I finished writing it," she said, keeping her voice calm and steady. "I've spent so long reminiscing about the darkest moments of my life. But I've healed. I've moved on. I've been through the five stages of grief, gone to therapy, the whole deal. I want to forget it." "The five stages of grief describe how a patient processes a terminal prognosis," Red said as she set the book to the side. "It's not the experience of a person coming to terms with the death of a loved one."

[writinglittlebeasts]

7 snippets, 7 people

tagged by @tabswrites

RULES: i have no good goddamn idea

i will tag @writingamongther0ses @illusionofwriting @indigowriting @thedahliafrog @moonluringfrost and Whoever Else; Open Tag!

from FIXED

Alma took a sharp step back from their opponent and swung a tight, arcing punch into his side. He raised his arms to block a second blow and they aimed low. He bent near in half as their fist collided with his abdomen and Alma leapt onto his back, crawling down his body to wrap their arms around his legs, bunny-kicking his shoulders and taking him to the floor. ✩ Beck was hardly out the door when Anita Koval landed at the bottom of the staircase. Her timing couldn't have been more perfect if she meant to miss him, and Danyil thought that she must have. She fingered the stones that made up her shimmering necklace; not nervous, rather a practiced motion to bring attention to the accessory. From the twisting of the diamonds in the light one's eye traveled to her rings and higher, the sizable earrings. Danyil knew that his mother enjoyed compliments, and so much that she would fish for them even in empty rooms. The world is a stage, she said. It was why, even in the hall, even alone, he was to be on his best behavior. ✩ "You left your pack?" Danyil sounded bewildered and his face was severe. Beck suppressed the urge to step back, trying to seem as confident as he'd felt a moment ago. He'd been foolish to think that Danyil wouldn't be upset. It was obvious how desperate he was for the support of a pack of his own, and to know that Beck had just walked away from his… It had to burn.

from SOME UNNAMED FANTASY WIP

The Tenth Street Melodia Boarding House is the oldest sentient building in Denanm, and so it follows that there convene the most powerful witches. Melodia is so named for the woman who had, presumably, died where the building would one day be built, and a grand portrait of this woman– long-necked and long-haired, with sable eyes that stare unerringly at whoever should enter there –holds sentry opposite the front door. She had been painted long after her death, based on historical records from which the artist had somehow extrapolated details like the riotous bulk of her eyebrows and the placement of her moles. Melodia House herself had not opposed the portrait’s placement, so it must be somewhat mildly accurate.

from A WOLF'S TOOTH FOR REVENGE

She looks up from her book when he enters, her eyes flashing quickly over his face and then away again, like she’s afraid of him. She’s done it every time she’s seen him. Thinking about it after the fact, it’s more likely that she’s trying not to stare at his rather jarring facial scar, but hindsight is clear where the present is unfocused, and Raleigh’s shoulders rise in a defensive shrug. She thinks that he’s a werewolf. The unfamiliar makes her fearful, and she’s uncomfortable in his presence. ✩

Raleigh’s rolled all of his clothing into his shirt when he comes out of the bathroom. It’s a tidy place, mismatched pieces of furniture aside. The blankets on the bed look more inviting than any motel blanket has ever looked before. On the bed are the set Kirby’s chosen, a faded blue shirt and fresh underwear.  “You brought me pants, right?” Raleigh asks, stuffing what he’s holding into their bag.  “As much as I want the answer to be no; yes.” Kirby is at the small table, examining Raleigh’s jacket. “We should’ve put this in the laundry when we had the chance.” ✩ Following the simple act of shifting finds the new turns in a backyard that has, itself, transformed. Raleigh and Kirby rise with the sun alongside a handful of pod deputies, and under the instruction of more senior wolves (and young hecklers awoken by the bustle who call down from windows or out the sliding back door) construct what could generously be called an obstacle course. Baseball tees, kitchen chairs, traffic cones, and fire pits are arranged across the lawn, alongside short stretches of fence and a web or rope pulled taut between trees and furniture. In maneuvering the course, the new turns will get a  feel for their new proportions and posture.

[theunboundwriter]

7 Snippets, 7 People

thank you for the tag @tabswrites !!

Tagging (with no pressure) @stick-a-pencil-in-my-eye , @toribookworm22 , @wild-daffodils , @aether-wasteland-s , @kittensartswriting , @autopsy-im-ill , @gailynovelry

The Sea is in Her Blood Taglist (ask to be added or removed): @fearofahumanplanet @marinesocks @parttimeghost @houndsofcorduff @creatrackers

one:

She hummed, deciding something, and turning away from Jesse. June addressed the rest of his crew, “I’ve decided to show you mercy.” Sheathing her sword, she gestured vaguely with both of her hands, “You are all free to go.”

The rest of her crew followed suit, putting away their various weapons and watching questionably as the men that had boarded their ship pulled themselves to a stand. When Jesse did the same, June was quick to snap her fingers and gain Daring’s attention. “Not him,” she pointed at Jesse, where Daring quickly grabbed hold of both his arms, twisting them uncomfortably. 

“What—?” Jesse began to protest, but June cut him off.

“Throw him in the brig.”

Jesse thrashed wildly in Daring’s hold, but it was not enough for the boy to escape him. “You can’t do this!” Jesse argued. “What did I do to deserve this?”

“You insulted me, Jesse. Be grateful I’m not having you thrown into the sea to join your incompetent captain.”

two:

June gripped the cell bars with an iron-hold. “Give it to me.”

“Nah, not until you let me out of here.”

She squinted her eyes at him, “You realize I can just take it from you, correct?”

Jesse folded the map over itself, folding it and folding it until it was a small fragile square that he could fit between his fingers. He held it up to his lips. “Try it, and I’ll swallow it.”

three:

“How can you say you love me?” June’s eyes snapped back to him. “After everything I’ve done to you?” 

His gaze drifted over to her. Her amber eyes were as bright as the sinking sun outside. “I—” he tried, unable to think of a definite answer. “I can’t explain it. I just do.”

“And that makes you stupid.”

four:

June wanted to scream. She wanted to break through the walls of her cell brick by brick with her bare hands and cry all at the same time. This was for his own good, why couldn’t Red just see that?

“Convincing you to let me stay on the ship, telling you about my past so that you would trust me, trick you into falling in love with me so that I could gain control of your ship and crew, it was all planned. Every single moment we spent together was calculated and plotted and it fulfilled some greater purpose that you wouldn’t understand. So, no, Red. I didn’t love you. I can’t, and I won’t.”

five:

“You thought you could run from me?” He bellowed, laughing at the pitiful form of his former first mate crumpled on the ground. Her amber eyes stared up at him with a seething hatred he had seen before, but this time they were etched with fear and it made his heart dance in his chest. A smile forced its way onto his face. “You’re clever, clever enough to know there’s nothing you can do to disappear somewhere I can’t find you.”

June’s throat was dry. How could this have happened? She thought she had evaded him long enough that she would never see his face again. Yet, here he was, in all his egotistical glory towering over her and casting her in his shadow once again. The town burned around them as they stared at one another, booms and screams echoing in the distance. The smile on his face was enough to make her tremble, but she would not allow him that satisfaction.  

She forced herself to a stand, never taking her eyes off the monster in front of her. June reached down and helped Raleigh to her feet. She would never admit it, but fear throbbed through her veins. 

six:

“I’m sorry,” was the phrase Red finally chose. Two words that made June’s skin crawl. 

“What for?”

She saw the confusion flick across his face, and when he hesitated to answer June said, “You’re not sorry. It’s just something you're expected to say.”

June stood to leave, having come into his quarters to get all of this off her chest and having nothing left to say to him. She began to collect the materials she brought with her, carrying the bandages and cloth in a heap in her arms. As she turned to go, Red grabbed hold of her forearm, and she expectantly waited for him to say what he needed to say to make himself feel better.

“I am sorry,” he told her. “I’m sorry you had to live this life and it made you think you need to put up these walls around you to keep everyone out. I’m sorry for everything that has happened to you—”

“Don’t be,” June interrupted. “There’s nothing you could have done.”

Red’s eyes softened, “And I’m sorry about that too. I’m sorry I didn’t meet you sooner.”

seven:

“You wouldn’t understand!”

Red stared at her, taking in every miniscule detail of her face. The freckles that dotted her nose, the stray hair that cascaded down her face, no matter how many times she tucked it behind her ear it refused to stay. He examined the bruise that colored her left cheek, dancing up to her eye and down to her jawline. The scar: the faintest white line he had ever seen that traveled her forehead and disappeared beneath her brow. His eyes lingered on the bandage on her neck, the red irritated skin that peeked out from the edges. He saw the devastation in her eyes, an emotion he now saw that she had masked with anger. 

“You’re right.” He told her, “I don’t understand. Not yet at least. Will you help me understand?”

June was the first to break eye contact, instead fixating on a mark in the wood. “I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t even want to think about it.”

A sigh from Red. “I want you to know I want to listen if you need someone to talk to. I won’t force it out of you.”

“Why are you taking care of me? What did I do to deserve your help?”

It was a question Red was not anticipating. His brows furrowed. “It’s incredibly sad that you feel that you have to ask that, you realize?”

[author-a-holmes]

Seven Snippets, Seven People

Thank you @wordsacrossemptypages for the tag!

I'm not going to be able to share Darkling content for this one, I don't think. I think seven snippets from a sequel might be more than I'm willing to put down right now.

But I can share seven snippets from Changeling instead.

Taggin forward, with no pressure, to; @afoolandathief, @oh-no-another-idea, @sleepyowlwrites, @sunset-a-story, @ashen-crest, @fictionalbullshitter, and @mr-writes <3

One.

"What, in the realm, are you doing?" Booker asked her on a heavy exhale, his sleep-coated voice rumbling quietly as he ran a weary hand through the tufts of bed-mussed blonde hair in a vain attempt at smoothing them into place.

"Nothing," Lizzy answered, wincing. It was too short, and too sharp, and she hoped he was still drowsy enough to miss her tells.

Her hope sank when Booker paused in his grooming to blink at her owlishly. It took a couple of seconds before her abrupt answer seemed to register, but when it did his frown deepened into an outright scowl.

"Lizzy, you're fully dressed in the middle of the night, with a bag packed, and the best you can come up with is 'nothing'?"

Two.

... he let himself concentrate on the conversation the two troublemakers at his back were trying to keep quiet.

The pair were doing a good job; they were staying several paces back and speaking in hushed tones. If he were human, or fey, he doubted he'd have noticed their murmured argument at all.

Unfortunately for them both, being a vampire gave him a distinct advantage.

"It's not my fault he's acting like a—"

"Please," Mr Reed breathed, pleading, and cutting off his companion's scathing comment. With Andric's back to them, he didn't bother smothering the amused grin that spread across his face.

Three.

"I just... I couldn't stand being in that house."

"I can't imagine how difficult—"

"No," Andric agreed, cutting Hilda off, his voice quiet, "you can't. Dad's near catatonic with grief, and when he's not he's destroying the house, or picking physical fights with anyone who can punch back harder than him. Mum's splitting her time between crying, and blaming me for—"

"Your brother's situation is not your fault, Andric," Thomas growled. The sound was primal, predatory, and it reminded Andric how much older Walcott was than the average vampire. Slowly, the breath that had caught in his throat released into a sigh and he shrugged.

Four.

"Why?" he asked, and Nameer shrugged one shoulder.

"Rumour is, he's on the warpath. Does it matter why?" he asked, sighing before uncapping their prescribed daily dose of animal blood and stirring it into his mashed potatoes, giving Andric the perfect excuse to grimace in disgust.

"We all know he's a prideful little shit," Nameer continued. "Just figured you might want to be on hand, in case someone needs to have their back."

"Yeah, thanks," Andric murmured, glancing away from the ruined mash and blood, and letting his eyes skip across the hall...

Five.

"You... you believe me?" Lizzy asked, blinking in shock.

"You've no reason to lie."

"Well, no. I don't, but— but everyone else—. Even with Cara's help, I—"

"I am not in the habit of deluding myself, just because the reality is something I don't wish to contemplate," Gladstone said, lowering her cup to the desk.

Six.

Even as the words spilt over his tongue and across his lips, Andric knew his tone was too hard, too harsh, and her shell-shocked expression only reinforced that.

Booker was glaring at him, and Andric sighed, "Lizzy—"

"Don't," she hissed. "I don't want to hear it."

She spun on her heel and stalked over to the door, yanking it open and disappearing into the hall before Andric was able to shake himself out of his shock.

Seven.

It was the growing silence that made him grind to a halt, Lizzy almost stumbling into him at his abrupt stillness. He could feel the weight of her gaze on his face and swiped his thumb across her hand again, but he couldn't spare her any additional reassurance, before tilting his head to listen to the forest.

His brow furrowed, as he strained his hearing to its limits, but there was nothing.

Not a bird ruffling its feathers, not a mosquito whining in the distance. Perfect stillness, and Andric felt nausea begin gathering in the pit of his stomach.

[phynewrites]

7 snippets, 7 people

Tagged by @at-thezenith

(Most of these are from short stories and a WIP (which I have yet to introduce, take this a teaser or something)  that I’m working on simultaneously LOL)

*

The earth beneath her feet felt soft and wet, as opposed to the hard and dry cement she woke up on. Then that earth was gone again. She shrieked when she took the next step. It was wobbly and unstable. She would have fallen into God knows where, had she not held onto the thick ropes that supported the wooden slab. 

She took deep breaths to calm herself and held on steadily to the rope. She looked back for the first time and saw the shadows standing still, watching her silently. The one resembling Connor was not there. 

So she pushed forward, not knowing what the other side held for her. Somehow, she felt a connection to it, the closer she got the surer she was. **

Thalia backed out from the window. “Zion! Ready your Archers!” she commanded, turning to the man she addressed as Zion. He nodded and went away from the tower hall. The troops affixed their arrows on their bows, when a thundering roar shook the ground again. “Stop!, I … mean no harm… yet.” 

The voice belonged to the creature, as the multiple appendages in its head lifted themselves from the cluster and opened their pincers to let out a chorus of shrill voices. “I… am here… talk.” it said, in a shrieking voice that tried to sound calm but only ended up being sinister. Thalia didn’t take her eyes off the creature. She was terrified and felt her knees shaking. “What do we do?” Gale whispered behind her. 

***

The ghost said, “Remember when I told you a while ago that I hated seeing you like this?” 

“You mean miserable?” Villain said, voice breaking down from the tears flowing in his eyes. Finally, he was able to look up at his father’s eyes and see that they were filled with compassion and longing. How long had he seen someone look at him the same way. So, so long. 

The ghost placed a cold, gentle hand on his hair and caressed it. “I mean alone, with no one to give to and nothing to take. Now, are you content with that?”

****

Now, she regrets being inside the circle. She thought of her exasperated breathing while running, which might have alerted Hero of her presence. Perhaps that was why they also slowed down and walked in this direction because they knew she was following them. Civilian wanted to slap herself for the realization. 

Her suspicions were confirmed when Hero glanced back at her, eyes full of both disappointment and amusement. Civilian felt a flush on her cheeks. None of them said a word, but Hero’s gaze was saying ‘I’m waiting for your explanation.” 

And so, she did give them one. Taking a deep breath, she said “Whether in the City or the forest, the monsters will keep coming for me. I think I’ll be safer with you around, so please-” 

*****

Remembering her actions, she frowned. It was a moment of impulsive action that resulted from confusion and anger. She pinched her nose bridge, and it was the first sensation she felt since she laid down to the shore, the first time she moved a muscle. All the effort of erasing her senses to meditate in the sea vanished. She could now feel the froth of the sea, the cold air blowing her hair, and the sound of a voice calling out. “Moi! Moi!”

 A little startled, she opened her eyes and saw the dark haired woman with the orange eyes. The one the children called “Luna.” She was shivering and wrapping a coat in her shoulders. This puzzled Moi. It wasn’t that cold, and she was the one laying on the shore in water, in nothing but shorts and a sheer blouse. 

Right, she’s a weather fairy with resistance to extreme temperatures. 

******

Maja sat cross legged, facing the training Archer. “I’ve spied around the other factions. They think we are the most formidable threat” -she cupped her hands in her mouth and giggled- “It’s a little laughable actually. Just because we left the fortress unscathed doesn’t mean we’re the biggest threat.” 

Ajaye sighed with a glint of annoyance. “Do you not think that their fear has bearing?” 

“Not really,” Maja said. “We’re a pretty powerful team! But I think that sorceress is still the most powerful. She can summon spirits and shadows to attack us, we would have no choice but to face those head on before getting to their master.” 

*******

Mary and the child merely stared. His appearance puzzled her the most, bearing signs of aging and youth at the same time. Strangely, there was a comforting presence around him that urged her to stay. 

This was a dream, right? 

The thought occurred, and she was not so sure if she really is still in a dream. It didn’t matter to her anyway. 

The child cocked his head to the side. Mary imitated him, and they both rocked their heads back to the side. While Mary wore a confused expression, the child did not show any. It opened its mouth. 

Mary swore that she did not hear a voice coming out of the child’s mouth, but something spoke loudly in her head. 

“Mortal.” 

Mary didn’t respond.

-------

Tagging @winterandwords @bingsoo-jung @moonandris @carrotblr @beverlyannemichel @dragonthusiast @morganwriteblr

[cljordan-imperium]

7 Snippets 7 People

Thank you for the tag @oh-no-another-idea, sorry it took me a bit to get to it.

I'm going to tag - @shipping-through-eternity @saltysupercomputer @writerfae @aalinaaaaaa

“I just meant…” Phaedra couldn’t finish because she was laughing so hard.  With the way that all of the men seemed to be protective, she doubted any of the women were going to be alone much, even if it meant that some of the men would be sleeping on the couches that were in the bedrooms.  She had no doubt Deacon or Leandre would be for Yael, if not having to move another couch in so they both could. “I think we knew exactly what you meant, Princess.  And I think that we can handle bein in the bed with ya, gorgeous.”  Thinius waggled his brows as he dropped his arm around her shoulder and moved to get them out of the room before the conversation devolved more.  As much as he normally would have loved to take Phaedra to the bed, Dez was there and he was still getting a grip for how the whole situation was feeling.  

2.

Her touch almost caused a greater ache in his chest than his realization that he had been an ass to assume and not let her finish her sentence.  If Bella had reacted with anger or hurt, he would have understood and he deserved her reproach; instead she had been understanding and was worried herself.  Adriel felt that it was he who did not deserve this female as his mate.  His anger, which was indeed legendary amongst the Heavens and Hells, was something he now feared would hurt her and potentially drive her away.  If he lost her…

“I am sorry, Bella.  I have a temper, one which I have never had reason to contain nor restrict.  I did not mean to offend or hurt you.  I promise to do better in the future.” Slowly Adriel’s eyes opened and his head rose to look at her face. “You could not disappoint me.” Softly he kissed her, keeping his eyes on hers. 

3.

Horace’s jaw ticked and he controlled his breathing through his nose.  He wasn’t a demon, he had a problem with innocents being hurt or used, but fighting with Casperius was going to get him nowhere.  He’d have to warn Vasilus as well, otherwise there was sure to be another explosion sometime along the way, and Cormoran might not be around to defuse that one.  “Do what you want Casperius,” he leaned forward, “but when she figures out how you really are, do you think she’s going to want anything to do with you?  The drugs, the women, the booze, the death?  You’re bringing her into that?  Don’t bullshit me that she means anything more to you than a new plaything and when you’re done, you’ll do what you always do and discard her and move on.” His eyes narrowed as his head also tilted, a sarcastic smirk forming.  Horace was pushing buttons and he’d stopped giving a fuck. “Then Cormoran, Vasilus,  and I will clean it up so that she doesn’t end up Matty’s victim since you’ve already put her on his radar.  We’ve gotten good at cleaning up your messes over the years, The Source knows someone has to.”  Horace turned to head to the stairs that the other two had headed down. He was done with the conversation and had other things to attend to.  It was out of loyalty to Cormoran more than Casperius that Horace stayed at the manor and kept things in order.

Casperius’ hand shot out and grabbed Horace’s bicep, stopping him from walking off.  “How did Matty find that out?  You and Vasilus are the only ones who knew about her.”  It hadn’t occurred to him about that till Horace, himself, mentioned Matty finding her.  Cormoran wouldn’t have said anything to anyone at his estate, so it was someone on his own, and that pissed Casperius off.

4.

“I will trust you…for now, Lucifer.” Finally she answered him, her voice smooth as velvet.  It was rich and warm, a little deep for a female, but held a sensual note that tended to draw people in.

“I promise that you will not regret it, Cassandra.”  The corners of his lips lifted, reflecting his pleasure at her answer as he slid the ring upon her finger.  Lucifer had been saving the bauble for just the right time, and just the right person.  It seemed he had found both now, and that fact additionally pleased him.  “I am no angel, like your previous companion,” his eyes crinkled at the edges in humor, “but I am no longer the male that I was in the past.  My grandchildren have shown me the ere of my ways, I can assure you.”  That they let him go down into Caligo and enjoy some of the activities there did help.

5.

“I’m kind of possessive of my keyboard and mouse though.  Gonna have to insist on hands off.  You’re free to play with controllers to my systems, Red Hot, but not in my chair or at my controls back there.”  He raised his chin towards where his PC gaming setup was. “Back there I’m the king.  I got room for a Queen at my side though if ya wanna.”  

“And what exactly are you going to do if I try to take it over? Hmmm…?”  Del tipped her head to the side and narrowed her eyes up at him.  “Or if I just sit on you and take over?  Maybe I don’t need my own system, I’ll just take yours.”  She was still trying to come up with a good name for him.  I bugged her that he had come up with a good one for her right away and she was struggling, but she would.  His hand on her hip didn’t help, he was distracting her, most likely on purpose.

6.

Turning to face her, his dark eyes met those captivating greens of hers, “what is wrong with me?”

Ice water replaced blood flowing through Adalicia’s veins and it froze her in her spot.  “Excuse me?”  It was out of her mouth before her brain could think better of it.  And she heard Grea clear his throat and movement behind her.

“Kel, what are you doing?” Grae’s hands landed gently on Adalicia’s hips so as not to startle her, then he stepped so his chest was pressed lightly against her back. He wanted to make sure that she knew he was there to support her.  

7.

“Yeah, and you’ll wait here till she’s ready, boys.”  Thinius smuggly grinned as he watched the muscle in the King’s jaw tick.  Oh, he was wound tight.  Could Thinius get him to explode out here?  That would get them back to having fun a lot faster.  “Unless ya just want to leave the pretty box that I know ya brough with ya with us boys.   She might be a while.  And if you’re looking for a bride, well, you might as well head out.  She doesn’t like royal cock.”   Now he grinned, Mithos cleared his throat.  The King was getting red around the neck, and there was the ever so faint sound of grinding teeth.

Leave it to Thinius to piss off royalty before they’d even made it in to see Brie.  That was what he was out here to do, and he did it well.  Mithos always had thought it should be Dez at the door, but after a few of these visits lately, he was seeing the wisdom in picking the chaos demon to be with him here.  Besides being the joint Captain of the Queen’s Guard, he could be the most annoying asshole that Mithos had ever encountered. Thankfully he had never been on the receiving end of Thinius goading.

“If you were expecting to have your ass kissed as it was at times under the previous administration, Kellen, as you can see, the Queen bows to no one.”  Mithos smirked at the King.  They knew each other from when Lucifer reigned in Hell.  His tone was not as flippant, nor as cocky as Thinius’ but his grin was just as smug.  There was a challenge in his eyes that dared Kellen to say or do something, anything that would provoke a confrontation.

THE IMPERIUM CHRONICLES TAG LIST - @ceph-the-ghost-writer @kjscottwrites @writingpotato07 @saltysupercomputer @careful-pyromancer @late-to-the-fandom @autumnalwalker @perasperaadastrawriting @fearofahumanplanet @jessica-writes22 @dogmomwrites @mjjune @verba-writing @blind-the-winds @shipping-through-eternity @outpost51 @inkspellangel @blind-the-winds @sunset-a-story @writingmaidenwarrior @clairelsonao3

[space-writes]

heads up 7 up

tagged by @oh-no-another-idea this time, thank you! have 7-ish lines from claws, wherein Holly has finally met Vivien and is chewing Rainier out about it:

“He gets you,” Holly says, rolling her eyes. “Which just means he does whatever you want and tells you how wonderful you are because he doesn’t know any better because he’s nineteen and you’re almost forty!” “Easy on the almost, Holls.” Rainier presses a palm to his chest. “I’m not that close to the grave yet. He’s an adult. Just because he looks young—” “He is young! You are a fully grown man—though goddess knows you refuse to act like one—and he’s a baby. Did you even check he was legal before you stuck your tongue in his mouth?”

no-pressure tagging @andromedaexists @serenanymph and @sam-glade this time

claws taglist: @belovedviolence @foxboyclit (ask to be +/-)

[autumnalwalker]

Seven Snippets, Seven People

Thank you for the tag, @druidx.

Passing the(optional) tag to @dyrewrites, @ceph-the-ghost-writer, @talesofsorrowandofruin, @the-down-upside-finch, @theprissythumbelina, @junypr-camus, @korblez, and an open tag to anyone else looking for an excuse to share snippets.

Here's some snippets from the most recent POV cycle of chapters for Empty Names:

One: Chapter 17 - Embedded Media

“I appreciate the sentiment, but you do yourself a disservice in selling yourself too short.”  Glassheart pauses for a moment and then continues as serenely as ever.  “That said, it would be remiss of me not to advise caution in continuing down your current path.  You are recombining elements of disparate magic systems in novel ways and breaking rules seemingly without even being aware that they exist.  Some would call that reckless.  Some would call it offensive disregard for tradition.  Some might even brand it as sorcery, inherently dangerous or ripe enough for abuse to be taboo for all but the strongest-willed of mages to attempt.”

Lacuna attempts to examine Glassheart’s face for some hint of expression or emotion.  Is he saying that he finds the idea she just ran by him offensive?  She forces a nervous laugh.

“It can’t be that bad, right?  I’m just one amateur dabbler poking around in a lab finding overly-convoluted ways to do what’s simple for anyone else.  I’m not even a real mage.”

“It most likely is not.  But the rituals your system generates are unlike anything else I have encountered or heard of, and that which is unfamiliar ofttimes makes people nervous.”

“I… Thanks for the warning?  I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

Two: Chapter 17 - Embedded Media

She presses her thumb into the designated section of the scepter, gripping with intent, and the pre-recorded accelerated incantation begins emanating from the tube, causing the ornament at the tip to begin glowing in response.  The glow brightens, slides off of the ornament and coalesces into a fist-sized glowing ball floating in the air.  After having only run for a second, the near-static noise of the incantation stops but the floating mote of light remains.  It briefly flickers as Lacuna lets her concentration slip in a moment of astonishment that it worked on the first try, but quickly stabilizes when she refocuses her attention.

She repeats the process three more times at different spots in the testing chamber, and then on the fifth she allows the recorded incantation to loop long enough to draw the shaky approximation of a cat’s face in the air.  She laughs and the lights pulse in time to her voice.  It’s an unexpected side effect that causes her laughter to redouble until the lights almost wink out before she gets a grip on her concentration again.

The next time she runs the portable ritual it is with slightly different intent.  She points the scepter at an empty spot in the air and the previous conjurations begin to converge and orbit the target point in space.  She sweeps her arm and the lights move to the new focal point some yards away from the scepter.  At Lacuna’s will they draw closer and then move further out.  

Grinning wildly, Lacuna begins waving the scepter about and clumsily twirling around the testing chamber to the off-kilter rhythm of a half-remembered theme song.  The conjured lights trail behind her like streamers for a drunken ribbon dancer.  She stops for the briefest moment of catching her all-too-easily-winded breath while holding the scepter as straight up as her wobbling arms can manage so the lights begin swirling above her, and then she swings the scepter down to point at the training dummy on the other end of the testing chamber.  

Disappointingly, the lights don’t so much streak toward their target as drift in its direction at a brisk pace, but at least that gives Lacuna ample time to close her eyes when the first glowing ball misses its target entirely and bursts into a bright flash upon hitting the wall behind it.  When the floating cat face manages to clip the edge of the dummy, its dying flash is enough to leave her seeing spots through tinted goggles and closed eyelids.  

All in all, a successful test apart from her poor aim.  She’s panting and working up a sweat, but that’s to be expected with how she got carried away.  Maybe she should give joining Eris at the gym another try.  Her hand does seem even hotter than expected though…

She looks down at the scepter and realizes the metal tube is beginning to glow ever so slightly from heat and the incantation has dropped to barely audible instead of stopping altogether like it’s supposed to.  The heat gets painful even through her safety gloves and Lacua drops the scepter on poorly-trained reflex.  She has just enough presence of mind to turn away before the fragile 3D test print of the ritual ornament on the tip of the scepter hits the ground and shatters.

Examining herself after the ensuing flash, Lacuna finds that much of the color has been bleached out of the backside of her clothes.  Touching the back of her neck - exposed from putting her hair up as a safety precaution - she winces.  She’ll need to be sure to keep her hair down and in place for the next week or two so the others don’t notice the new sunburn.

Three: Chapter 18 - Mom Energy

“Somehow though, he looks at all of this, does the tactical calculus, and concludes that Hild is the biggest threat - or maybe he was just mad at her breaking free - so he points a hand at her and his fingers extend, shooting across the room.  Road realizes what’s happening in time to parry it enough to keep it from taking off her head, but the vamp mage still manages to rip a gash in Hild from jugular to heart.

“Here’s the thing about vampires that makes them so annoying to kill: Short of beheading or burning, they can recover from basically anything so long as they have the blood.  So pro-tip, if you find yourself fighting a vampire without a stake and you don’t think you can get a killing blow on them, hit them someplace that they’ll bleed a lot.  And it has to be external bleeding.  A decent size cut’s harder for them to recover from than broken bones or ruptured organs.  Get them in the heart or jugular and they’ll bleed out nearly as fast as a human if they don’t get the chance to feed in the next minute or so.

“On the flip side, if you’re ever trying to save a vampire, the number one most important thing is to give them something to drink; the fresher and stronger the better.”

Eris holds up the child-sized bite mark on her wrist for everyone to get a good look at again.  Damn, but does it feel good to watch the realization dawn on her audience’s faces.  Especially the ones who’d laughed at it earlier.

Four: Chapter 18 - Mom Energy

In the past fifteen minutes since Eris knocked on Lacuna’s door hard enough to chip the paint and wake the neighbors, she’s watched her best friend’s face change from terrified to concerned to embarrassed to anxious to worried to confused and now to utterly horrified.

“Oh goddess, I am so sorry.  I swear I didn’t think that would happen.  I knew there might be complications but I didn’t think that even could happen.  I’m sorry.  I should have seen this coming.  I should have run more simulations.  I shouldn’t have needed to.  It’s so -”

“Sis -”

“- obvious in hindsight.  Not even hindsight, it's just obvious.  How could I be so stupid?  I’m sorry.  I promise this was an accident.  Maybe if I - No that would be worse.  I swear I -”

“Hey -”

“- can make this right.  Or maybe it’s already showing signs of abating.  This is what I get for not taking a baseline model first.  Please don’t be mad.  I’m so, so, sorry.  I just -”

“Lacuna!”

Lacuna flinches at the not-quite-a-shout and goes quiet, shrinking back into the round papasan chair seated in her apartment’s living room.

“I’m not mad at you,” Eris lies.  Maybe if she keeps still enough and keeps being slow and deliberate enough with her words and breathing it will become true.  “I believe you that whatever this is was an accident and I’m not going to hold it against you.”  That part is probably true.  “Now please slow down for a minute and tell me what you think you did to me and what we need to do to fix it.”

Five: Chapter 19 - Shire

Sullivan counts the seconds to give the two of them just enough time to suspect he might be dead before standing back up.  He makes a show of it, letting his body go totally limp with the intent of being as unnerving as possible when he bends first one knee and then the other to get his feet flat on the ground before raising himself up simply by straightening his legs in defiance of the sort of leverage the human musculoskeletal system should be able to provide from that angle.  He allows his arms to hang and his head to loll back as he rises with deliberate slowness.

Six gunshots ring out in rapid succession just as his waist starts to bend forward again.  Six bullets trailing comet tails of brilliant green light tear holes in his chest and chunks out of his shoulders.  They fail to knock him back down.

The punch to his still-regenerating face from the doll doesn’t.

Rude.

Some people simply have no taste for the theatrical it would seem.

Six: Chapter 19 - Shire

“Now now, Mr. Whelan,” Morgan says, “are you really so sure you want to be so dismissive about the efficacy of threats in front of an accomplished witch and an infamous assassin?”

Lachlan quails, shrinking back into his chair.  Sullivan stands up, steps behind him, and slides the chair in closer to the table, pinning the shriveled little alchemist between the two.

“You bleeding idiots!” Lachlan shouts.  Frustrated, not terrified.  How curious.  “I’m tr-”  More choking on words.  “That w-  You can’t -  Idiots, the both of you!”

Morgan and Sullivan look from Lachlan to one another, back to Lachlan, back to one another.

Stella looks up, staring at some spot on the white popcorn ceiling.

Morgan slaps a palm to her forehead.

“Goddesses, Green, and Void, we are idiots, aren’t we?” Morgan says.

“You said it, not me,” Sullivan replies.

“It’s so obvious.”

“A classic really.”

“Why didn’t we see it sooner?”

“I would have expected better from a witch of your caliber.”

“I would have expected better from Bridgewood’s trophy husband.”

“Touché.”

“The most annoying kind of curse.”

“Or contract.”

“The one you can’t talk about.”

“Even worse than the one you can’t remember.”

“Are you familiar with the telepathy loophole?”

“Invasive, but effective.”

“It’ll be for his own good.”

“And you’re not worried about inducing geas rejection syndromes?”

“Eh, he seems to be fine despite us figuring this much out from his hints.”

“This is why I love working with anchor world mages.”

“Hold him still for me, please?”

“Since you said please.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, but why not have your doll do it?”

“Because someone broke her hands and the glue’s still drying.”

“And again, touché.”

“Want him unconscious?”

“It’ll work better if he’s awake.”

Lachlan looks up in what is finally fear at the two discussing him as if he weren’t there.

Seven: Chapter 20 - Changeling Child (coming soon-ish)

“Tell me Tam Lin,” Ashan asks, “what brings you here today?” 

The green hand twitches at the Name’s emphasis, even without any attempt at nominal magic infused into his voice.  Yes, definitely one of the fair folk, but why the guileless deception?  Why take such risk with a Name freely spoken, as sensitive as their kind are to that?

“The website,” Tam says,  “it said you can help with weird stuff like this.  You can help me, right?”

“Most likely,” Ashan answers, “but first we need to know more specifically what your problem is.”

“If I may,” Lacuna speaks up from where she has perched on an ottoman at the other end of the couch from Tam.  As she slips her phone back into her skirt pocket and intently looks Tam up and down all her earlier disorientation has vanished completely.  Ashan knows that eager, almost hungry look.  It is a look he has seen on experimentally-minded wizards presented with a unique specimen and alchemists greedily eying rare reagents.  And on children seeing their favorite animal in the flesh for the first time.

With only the slightest misgiving, Ashan nods in assent.

Lacuna’s eyes light up and she leans in even closer.  “Right.  So.  Tam.  Let me know if I miss the mark anywhere.  As a kid you saw all sorts of fairies and similar magic.  When you got older you wrote them off as childhood make believe, but ever since you had strange and vivid dreams about them.  Maybe you even were one in your dreams.  When you hit puberty, those dreams got more frequent.  More intense.  Easier to remember.  Almost a second life whenever you were at your lowest points.  Still just dreams at the end of the night though.  Nothing you couldn’t put out of mind and focus on the ‘real world.’  And then one day.  A recent day.  I would guess.  One or both of your parents died.  Ever since, you’ve started having those dreams every night.  And then every time you closed your eyes.  And then when you looked in the mirror, wide awake, you looked like you did in your dreams.  That’s when something started following you.  Not knowing where else to turn, you turned to the Internet, and found us.  No one answered your calls or the message you left.  That’s my bad.  Real sorry about that.  So you hopped in the car and drove all night to our address.”

Tam stares at her, eyes wide and jaw agape.  “My moms are still alive, but everything else is - how did you know?”

Ashan tilts his head, surprised and curious to know himself.

Lacuna slips back into her usual discomfort, awkwardly rubbing the back of her neck.  “Sorry.  That was weird of me, wasn’t it?  Got carried away.  Touches on a… special interest of mine.  So.  Basically.  You’re a changeling.  A fairy swapped with a human baby to be raised in its place to take its Name.”

“You’re joking,” Tam denies.

“You were quite literally shapeshifting in front of me,” Ashan points out.

“Not intentionally,” Tam says.

“It wouldn’t be,” Lacuna says.  “Historically speaking, most children accused of being changelings were just some flavor of neurodivergent.  The real ones tend to blend in as normally as the baby they swapped with would have, fooling even themselves.  Not that there isn’t overlap between the two from time to time.  A Name isn’t just the name it’s tied to, it’s a whole identity, physical and mental.  Most changelings have no idea they’re not human until something triggers a change, at which point whatever fae liege made the bargain will come to retrieve them.  Or send a servant to do so.  Kinder ones will be upfront about it and explain things.  Maybe even make an offer to continue living as you are.” 

“And crueler ones will send a hunting beast to drag you back kicking and screaming,” Ashan posits.

Tam’s nervous nod is all the confirmation Ashan needs as to what tripped the wards around the office.

[tabswrites]

7 Snippets, 7 People

Tagged by @writernopal here! Thanks, Nopal 💜

Tagging (no pressure, as always!): @theroseempress @writinglittlebeasts @hd-literature @j-1173 @clairelsonao3 @gummybugg

Silver Sentinels tag list (please ask to be added/removed!): @outpost51

Silver Sentinels, Ch. 3

Adrin gave the girl an encouraging smile as she set down a pail of water and a folded piece of linen beside him. “Just tell me what you can remember.” Before she could set the bottle down, Davis snatched the spirits out of her hand, causing her to jump back. Adrin felt a surge of annoyance rise up inside of him as he watched the man take a long sip with his free hand.

“All I know is, Henrietta was talking to her one moment and the next that crazy bitch was attacking me!” he exclaimed, wiping drops of liquid out of his beard.

Henrietta stiffened at his words. “It was a misunderstanding.” she said, so softly Adrin had to lean towards her to hear.

“How so?” he asked.

“She thought he was trying to hurt me-”

Davis slammed his good hand onto the table. “Hush, girl!”

“Hang on,” Adrin squeezed the injured hand as a small warning. “Do you mean to say the exile was protecting you?”

Henrietta opened and closed her mouth, eyes darting between her parents. The tension in the room was stifling. Adrin found himself unable to speak as he considered how to proceed. They hadn’t covered how to mediate uncomfortable family meetings in guard training.

S.S, Ch. 3

An older guard close to his father’s age saluted the captain from his post at the end of the hall and stepped aside to let them through.

The interrogation room was a cold, uninviting place made of four solid granite walls. The only light came from the two torches hung on either side of the door–Adrin supposed there was no need for comfort in a room so few ever saw.

He guided Henrietta towards the table and pulled out a chair. She sat down slowly, her dark brown eyes reminding him of a frightened doe as they wandered around the room. He joined Hollowar on the other side of the table.

“Why was Mara Wilkes at your home, Miss Rameau?” The captain placed her arms on either side of the chair and straightened her posture, staring down at the girl with a thinly veiled look of displeasure.

Henrietta swallowed, shifting in her seat. “I’m not sure, ma’am.” she squeaked. Her hand drifted up to her hair and tugged at a random curl. “She arrived shortly after sunrise, asking me to deliver something for her.”

S.S, Ch. 3

“Ramsby, escort Miss Rameau to a cell.”

Adrin stopped his pacing and spun to face her, his cape whipping around with him. “Captain, is that necessary?” His heart ached at the sight of Henrietta’s small frame slumped over the table. There was something so honest about her, a natural sense of freedom in the way she expressed her emotions. It reminded him of Sophie, he realized. “Look at her. She’s hardly a threat.”

“That is not your decision to make.” Hollowar growled in response. “Let’s go.”

Adrin was left with no choice but to obey, glancing down at the bracelet on his wrist. Nothing about the situation felt right, but he figured couldn’t do a thing for Henrietta if he was in a cell, and he was already in shackles, so to speak. He followed the captain back to the main hallway and through a heavy set of wooden doors.

S.S, Ch. 4 (whaaat? Chapter 4 already? Go me!)

The still of the silence revived her. Mara opened her eyes to a clear blue sky and exhaled, knowing she had once again evaded death. As she sat up and looked around, she wondered if it might be too early to celebrate.

Ascension, Ch. 2

Callie opened her eyes to a sky full of stars, a peculiar observation due to the fact that she was indoors.

It had been just over a week since her brother had left, the same amount of time he had spent working on her parting gift. The mural covered the entire space over her bed. It had a background of the deepest blue and tiny stars in glistening gold.

Kiran had traded a quarter of his cattle for the paints, insisting it was worth it. She was still very cross with him for leaving in the first place—they hadn’t been apart for more than a day since he had arrived in Atharis ten years prior.

“Oh, come on Callie,” he implored her with a taunting grin. “We’ve shared the same air for most of our lives. Could you settle for sharing the stars?”

Ascension, Ch. 2

“Ah, Your Highness!” Duke Overly exclaimed, clapping his hands together as she appeared. “So kind of you to finally join us.” He took an agonizingly slow sip of ale.

Callie curtsied to her father before turning her focus to the duke. “It takes time to be presentable in accordance with the court’s impeccable standards.” she replied with a beaming smile. “Perhaps if the court would reconsider my request to wear less formal clothing from time to time, my morning routine could be considerably shorter.”

Ascension, Ch. 2

News from the border was never good. It usually meant Aleksander had grown bored once again, and was starting an even more infuriating game with them. Kiran had mentioned just before he departed that Atharis was reaching its limit, and their father was uncertain about how to proceed. One thing was clear—they could not survive another escalation.

[sam-glade]

7 snippets 7 people

Tagged by the lovely @oh-no-another-idea here💜 Thank you!

I'm not entirely sure what the rules are so I'm picking 7 snippets and vaguely matching them to the 7 people I'd like to tag.

@iced-ginger-tea

"When you're excited you burst into rooms like a summer draft." Gullin stared. He stared at the man in front of him, who had given himself to him so completely, and still found more to give. "When content, your manifestation is the breeze that carries apple blossoms from the orchard at home. When confident, it's the steady but strong wind that you can fly a kite on." He took a deep breath. "But sometimes, you're the squall on a rocky shore, and I don't know what to make of that."

@tisiphonewolfe

The heavy curtains were drawn already; the room was cool and quiet. The box of shatranj pieces sat on a small table by the wall, with the game board masterfully inlaid in the table's surface. A crystal lamp with a stained glass shade illuminated it in patches of muted colours. The silver samovar in the corner hissed quietly as it heated up, and two cut-crystal glasses waited on a silver tray beside it. The familiar setting did little to soothe Erya’s temper.

@acertainmoshke

By the grace of the Five Elements, I am a Sword. I will not raise my Weapon against another person. I will not use this gift to selfish ends, but to protect those who cannot protect themselves. I will not risk my life needlessly, for my death may lead to the injury of others. I will obey the law and my commanding officers from this moment on. This I swear on my Sword and honour.

@writernopal

“Millennia ago, I watched a boy climb a gangplank to a ship docked in this port. It was a meagre vessel, powered by warped oars. The boy had the same wonderment painted on his face, the same light in his eyes.” Amberblade shook his head. “How do you do it, Little Bird? After all this time?” “I’m me, Brother. It seems you played so many roles, that you lost yourself among them.”

@captain-kraken (from The Fulcrum)

The Soulless stands up, brushes the sand off her knees, and turns around, coming face to face with a raptor. She yelps and stumbles back until she trips and falls, her drawing now utterly destroyed. The raptor advances slowly, and turns its head to look at her, blinking its beetle-like eye. Its three-clawed feet are set far apart; they sink into the sand with each step, then drag, draw crumbling lines that point inevitably towards her. Its body tips from one side to the other, its whip-like tail and long neck provide a counterbalance. Small beige tassels sway on either side of its jaw with each movement, brushing horn-like protrusions that adorn its mandibles. The Soulless looks back at it, not daring to twitch. The raptor leans in, its nostrils flaring right next to her beak. Its scales are burnt umber, and she wonders if they would be warm to touch. It’s a stupid thought, and it might be her last one, if the beast is looking for an evening meal.

@elshells

“That was a pupil of mine, General Havyel, sir, not exactly a Dark One. My latest project, if you would.” “What do you mean, not exactly?” Erya snapped. “He’s a brilliant kid, eager to learn, pleasure to work with.” “Varré…” “He suffers from a mild case of demonic possession.” “He what now!?” Havyel blurted out. “Put a pin in that, please, General. It’s only a mild case."

@sarahlizziewrites

“What do you want us to call it, by the way?” Gullin called over from his perch on the stairs, once Lissan got half a dozen more sequences done. “What?” “Your demon.” “Ideally not that.” “Does it have a name?” Lissan grimaced. [...] I would certainly like a name. “It would like it, so it’s not getting one,” Lissan relayed. Gullin chuckled with genuine amusement. “Nameless it is then.”

[druidx]

Seven Snippets, Seven People

Thanks for the tag @eli-writes-sometimes <3

Tagging back: @aalinaaaaaa @thewriteflame @wildswrites @aquadestinyswriting @artdecosupernova-writing @autumnalwalker @blind-the-winds @eli-writes-sometimes @hannahcbrown @oh-no-another-idea @rhikasa @swordsoulwrites @winglesswriter @andromeda-grace @writingmaidenwarrior @wispstalk @late-to-the-fandom @athenswrites

Rules: post seven snippets and tag seven people.

Once again, all these are from Alexis Dalliance vs the Evil of Titan, in my unending quest to edit the damn thing.

One

The other elf… Now he was a conundrum. He stood, ramrod straight, directly in front of the Captain's desk. He'd yet to change into any issued armour, and still wore what amounted to peasant rags – a tatty, oversized, undyed shirt and brown woolen trousers darned to an inch of their life, the whole ensemble held together with rope suspenders. Alexis squinted, sniffing suspiciously. Yes, there was also a faint miasma of animal dung from his direction. An elven farmer was a distinctly unusual thing. One to keep an eye on, that was for sure…

Two

On her way to the mess hall Alexis ran into Ithanor and Richard. It was Ithanor who heard her yelling to wait, where Richard would have sleep-walked on. Richard's limbs drooped, reminding her of a weeping willow, but Ithanor was as bright and alert as a holly tree in Autumn. As they made their way to the mess hall, Alexis told them about Captain Hengar. "I don't think he's fit for duty," she said. "But the townsfolk need organising to start work on repairs. I think I can convince him to eat and sleep. Richard, after last night you'll have their respect. You should coordinate the people." "Me!" Richard stopped coming alert as if he'd been slapped. "But… I don't know how. I wouldn't know what to do or what to say or-" "I'll do it," Ithanor said, holding up a hand to slow Richard's panic. "It's fine. They saw the three of us together, so if they respect and trust Richard, it should carry over. We'll get you to do a little speech and then I can take over giving the orders." "Good plan. If you see Yazty, send him my way?" Ithanor nodded. "Right then lads, let's get it done."

Three

Between the three of them, they managed to wrangle Hengar into bed, get the townspeople motivated, and begin work on the town’s reconstruction. Soon the air was filled with the sounds of workmen calling, rubble being shifted and sawing as seasoned timbers were brought out of storage. Once Hengar was deeply asleep, thanks to some concoction from Yaztromo, Alexis took any spare hands from the militia buildings to help with the town's efforts. Of Victor and Bastet there was no sign. But it didn't matter; Alexis knew that now Zagor was dead, they had some loose ends of their own to tie off.

Four

Following the Quartermaster's directions brought Alexis to a long room, filled end-to-end with bunk beds. A human with black hair and lieutenant's stripes held a slate, marking off filled bunks as he directed the recruits to their new sleeping places. Alexis froze in the doorway – there were so many people, so many sounds, so many smells. Talking and laughing, the tang of metal polish and reek of bodies. "Next! You there, don't dawdle." Alexis looked up at the lieutenant, eyes wide. "Not seen anything of the like before, eh?" he asked. Alexis nodded. "You'll get used to it, lass. Sixth on the right, against the wall." He squinted down at her. "Lower bunk." "Yessir," Alexis squeaked, and made her way to the assigned bunk.

Five

A half-elf followed shortly after, arriving as Alexis was trying to figure out which chest was hers. "You're my bunkmate, huh?" he asked. "Yeah. Alexis Dalliance." She held out a hand. He shook. "Holger Brodanic. I think that one is your chest," he added, pointing at the one against the wall. "Ta." "So how come they let a kid in? You lie about your age?" Brodanic asked as he put his own equipment away. "I'm not a child, I'm a full-grown adult." "You're awful short. You got some kinda sickness?" Alexis balled her hands, then released them slowly. "No. I'm an eshen. I'm actually tall for my kind." "Huh." Brodanic perched on the edge of the lower bunk with a lopsided smile. "My mother used to tell me stories about your lot. Mostly that if I didn't stay close to the village, an eshen would turn me into a tree." Alexis gave a puckish smile and wiggled her fingers. "Who's to say I won't?" For a split second Brodanic's face dropped, then he gave a tittering laugh. Alexis winked. "Nah, that's not something we can do." Brodanic stood, chucking her on the shoulder before bouncing up to his own bunk. "We're gonna make great bunkmates, Dalliance."

Six

Alexis smirked as she finished putting away her gear. Her ears twitched, making her stop and listen. Through the general hubbub of the barracks came the sound of angry, raised voices. Ensuring she could remember which bed was hers, she left, following the sounds of conflict back outside. In front of the the awning where the human had been taking in the recruits, an elf and the half-orc officer argued. The human – she’d overheard some of the other militia say he was the Captain of this outfit, a man called Hengar – sat back in the chair watching the kerfuffle. Also joining in on the argument was another human, tall and broad, and another elf. Abruptly the Captain stood up. "Enough." He laid his hands flat on the table. "I won’t have dissent in the ranks before we’ve even gotten anywhere. Vrog, take over. You three come with me." With that he left the half-orc standing there, striding towards the entrance. Alexis tried to back away, not wanting to be in trouble already, but she wasn’t fast enough. "You there," Hengar pointed at her as he approached. "How much of that did you hear?" "Nothing, sir. You stopped as I arrived." Hengar grunted. "Where were you before?" "In the barracks, sir." An eyebrow raised. "Good ears on you, eh? You too then, come along." Alexis gulped, but dutifulled trailed along after the group, as Hengar lead the way to his office.

Seven

The end of the sewer pipe lead into a small alcove filled with long brushes and leather gauntlets and aprons. Quietly, they used these tools to remove the effluent from their legs. "I should scout ahead," Alexis said. "No offense but I’m less likely to make a lot of noise while doing so, and I suspect my senses are more keen than yours." Ithanor glanced at their companions. No one disagreed. "Very well," he said. "We shall await your return. If you run into difficulties, holler, and we will come." Alexis nodded, her mouth set in a grim line. In a moment she was gone.

[writernopal]

7 Snippets 7 People

Thanks for the tag @sam-glade! See their post here!

I'm going to try to do my best to match these with the people I'm tagging. Sam, you are a hard act to follow, but here I go! Fair warning, they're kind of long, but by now, it should be known that brevity is not my strong suit 😅

@captain-kraken (AASOAF 1, Axtapor's POV)

My racing thoughts came to a halt. I knew that voice. I looked to the source of it, and there she was, that woman, clear as day. But today, she was dressed as one might find a fine girl-child’s doll. Her frock was all ruffles, ribbons, and pale colors with motifs of soft pink roses upon it. Around her neck was a thin pink ribbon with a gold bow hanging from it. The tiny ornament sat perfectly in the hollow of her collarbones. Her hair was in an updo decorated with many ringlets that sat about her face and the top of her head, and her tiny hands were gloved in a pale green lace. Still, of all that I took in about her, I couldn’t help but cling to her waist. It was tiny, unimaginably so. Though that might be a product of her skirts. They were so poofy I wondered how she got around without collecting all sorts of refuse along the way like some strange net. She must have married again, being dressed as she was, and well at that. She must have some sort of hidden charm that made her so alluring to rich men. What might it be? “I’m sorry, but who are you?” Ophelia asked with some confusion. Her voice snapped me from my reverie, and I did my best to regain my composure. I shouldn’t be so taken by this woman, not in front of the one I was planning on marrying.

@lynnedwardswrites (AASOAF 2, Fay's POV)

“And what will you do after it’s done? He’s the last one.” I put the end of my pipe in his mouth. “We’ll lure Mar-Dur out for one, probably kill the rat bastard. I’m tired of him anyway. He’s turned out to be more trouble than I thought he would be when I first agreed to do business with him.” “A bad investment.” He agreed with a frown as he let out a steady stream of smoke. “After that, I’m not sure. I haven’t thought that far ahead, to be honest with you. It’s all been about this for as long as I can remember.” “I know, but there is much more we could do together...” His hand landed gently on my lower belly, and a somberness flashed in his eyes.  I put my own hand over his and sighed.  “Things will be so busy with two ships instead of one. You won’t be with me every waking moment of the day anymore, Wilkes. And besides, you know that what you want from me is impossible...” I squeezed his hand gently. “I know...I just—” He dropped his head into my lap and took a shuddering breath. “It’s alright. We have each other, hmm? You and me.” I leaned down to kiss the side of his neck gently. “You and me...” He repeated in a whisper before putting his arms around my waist and closing his eyes.

@elshells (AASOAF 2, Mariel's POV)

“Aye…” He tossed a quick glance around, “Come this way. Stand there.” “Here?” “Aye, just so. Hold fast.” “What are you—?” I looked down, and my eyes widened, watching as he looped his tail into the handle of a basket sitting on the ground near the stall we were standing next to, “Y-You can’t!” “Hush!” He hissed quietly, “Walk right this way as so. Aye, right natural. Nary wrong happenin’ here.” “B-But—!” “Shh!” He hissed as we successfully escaped the scene of the crime without drawing attention.  “We should give it back. It isn’t ours.” I insisted as he quickly stuffed everything he’d purchased into it and took my hand to lead us further away. He laughed. “What be yer meanin’? I ‘call ye havin’ this wee basket when I collected ye. It be yers.” “N-No, it isn’t!” I complained. “A thin’ as so be worth nary more than two coppers. Will no be missed.” He replied more dismissively but still maintained his air of playfulness. “But it’s theirs…” “Aye, fine. Will ‘turn it on the morrow.” He finally relented with one of his beautiful laughs.

@dragonedged-if (AASOAF 1, Axtapor's POV)

“Should we play with stakes this time?” She asked quietly as she shuffled the cards.  My brow raised. She never wanted to play with stakes; she just liked having some way to entertain herself. But now I was interested; if she was making the suggestion, what was she planning on wagering? “Aye, what’ll it be?” I asked with a chuckle as I packed my pipe. “How about…” She mused, bunching up her lips into a thoughtful frown, “A sweet.” “A sweet?” I frowned as I bit down on the end of my pipe and searched for my matches. “Yes. The loser buys a sweet for the winner from the confectionery stall at the trading post.” She said with a determined sparkle in her eye. I laughed; of course, it would be something simple. “Aye, then a sweet it be.”

@kittensartswriting (AASOAF 1, Mariel's POV)

I walked at a slow, numb pace down the dark and empty corridor toward his chambers. And my steps made not a sound as moved through that quiet and eerie space. I was not a large person and wore no shoes nor a great and fancy nightdress that might flutter behind me to create some sound as I went. Was this what a ghost might feel like? It must be. The thought should strike me as sad, but instead, I felt happy. How peaceful it must be to wander the world untouched and unchanged by its horrors. Simply to exist as an onlooker with the freedom to say, ‘Better you than me.’  I looked to my right and out the windows that faced the gardens where I captured my weapon of choice. It was dark save for the small fires of faraway lamps, dotting the landscape here and there. They brought me no solace. Instead, they seemed like the winking eyes of beasts, beckoning me to do something wicked to earn the right to join their ranks. And there, in the endless darkness that stretched further than my eyes could see, I would tempt our next comrade alongside them.

@kanobarlowe (AASOAF 1, Mariel's POV)

But it was too pleasant a day to be thinking about such things. The afternoon sun scattered its many beamed children across the ground and the foliage around us, making the forest appear like a coffer replete with gold. A gentle breeze stroked the branches of many trees and fallen leaves, making it sound like we were someplace that overlooked the sea where the waves could be heard pulling in and out. And the creatures that called this place home sang in pleasant harmony as if making certain that we felt welcome in their peaceful abode. It was tranquility at its finest. I wished then that we could stay in this forest forever. It would be so lovely to live surrounded by nothing but songbirds and other gentle creatures, unbothered by the world’s chaos just beyond this bastion of serenity. But I supposed that was not to be... I wiped my cheek, but it seemed with that single tear, the rest that had been threatening to fall fell. I sniffled quietly, and the same breeze that once sounded so pleasant now made the trees whisper in a lonely and ominous way. Suddenly it felt too crowded here, as if everything had become dark and narrow. The shadows between the sunlight voraciously attempted to reclaim what had been invaded, growing and swallowing everything into their bottomless bellies. And the voices of the forest sounded more like distant screams or the jingling of a jailer’s keys. What was the point of escaping? Was this freedom even worth buying? I wasn’t so sure anymore.

@moonluringfrost (AASOAF 2, Fay's POV)

I let out a grunt of annoyance and was going to push him away when the air shivered around my ears, and all I could do was stand there. Those negative feelings began to wane despite my best intentions to be angry at him. Just behind me, the sun had started to set, and he became resplendent as he always did when the light of day was this low. Everywhere we went, they called him the Son of the Moon, and in moments like these, it was easy to understand why. He was positively radiant, and that wasn’t just a figure of speech; he was glowing like the moon itself.  His scales had become almost translucent but still managed to capture the light like some finely cut gem, and just underneath, I could see millions of tiny red veins chasing after one another. Even his eyes seemed to be alight with more fire than usual, smoldering like his own pair of setting suns. The opalescent sheen of his scales, the sealike swell of his sloped horns, and the feathery mane upon his head, all of him was beautiful as if he had been born for the sole purpose of being admired. And what wasn’t his by nature felt alive with his spirit all the same, for that ruby upon his forehead even thrummed with the frantic life of a third eye... We locked eyes, and all remaining earthly feelings faded away. It was as if I was standing on the bow of this ship or any other, watching the waves of a churning night sea as they towered overhead like the arm of some great beast. There was a unique fear in witnessing something like that. The scene being framed only by the sounds of the ceaseless beating of her majesty’s fury against the struggling vessel at her mercy. At that moment, much like now, it was simpler, and perhaps wiser, to brace and wait. Eventually, the moon’s reign would end, and he would release that poor creature below so that just before dawn, one’s eyes would turn heavenward and be fooled into uttering words of thanks.

[silverduckie]

I don’t want to talk right now, I just want your arms wrapped around me in this moment before it runs out.

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