#also sorry that 'grave' got long alsdkjf it is what it is

[megarywrites]

find the word

tagged by @thewriteflame (thanks!) and my words were: early, froze, grave, and hull (it's almost like you knew I just finished a chapter with the title "Haunted Hull" lol)

I'll tag: @isherwoodj @pinespittinink @daisywords and @aether-wasteland-s, and your words will be: dawn, morning, afternoon, evening, twilight (or dusk), and midnight (no pressure ofc!)

early (this made me realize how many times i have nearly in my manuscript, but that's a problem for rewrite draft me lol)

The all too familiar pounding of Cilia’s fist on our door thudded heavily through the small room. I gave a feeble attempt to open my eyes, but the most I could manage was the thinnest squint. But Solera, of course, was already up. Puttering around. Probably folding her clothes or mine…or sketching. My squint narrowed further as I listened hard for a hint of what she was doing.  But it was a bit too quiet.  Had she slipped out again to see the sunrise?  I ripped my blanket off my head, looking over at her bed, expecting to find it empty, only… She looked over at me, her smile a bright, sweet assault. It was too early for anyone to be so cheerful, especially here. Even if it did suit her a bit too well.  Groaning, I flipped the blanket back over my head and rolled over, earning a laugh from her. Alright, well, I couldn’t not smile at that.

froze

A smile split the Droma’s beard, my mouth going dry as he reached for the hem of Ma’s veil. Kolette reached for my hand again, squeezing tightly as Ma’s identity was slowly revealed. The Droma’s eyes widened as the veil slipped through his fingers. Gasps filled the latridom, and the Diamo, who had been smiling, froze, his gaze darting around at the adverse reaction.  The Stoli, as ever, remained calm. The soot-grey lady stood, took a step toward Ma, but halted at a look from the Diamo.  The Droma stepped away from Ma, shaking his head. Even from here, his anger was palpable. I shrank back, sinking further into my seat, holding Ma’s mourning veil taut over my face.  “What happened?” the Diamo asked, his voice much more reserved than it had been before. The Droma stepped toward Ma, fists clenched. “Sosta.” The Droma stopped, glaring at Ma as she lifted her chin, but did not look away. “Remember your position.” He backed away again, his chest heaving.

grave

“Where is he?” Ma asked as she looked down, surveying the carved stones. The Droma turned at the sound of her voice. He glanced between us, offering a sad yet kind smile and holding his hands out to take ours. Or, rather, just mine in both of his. My hand twitched as I fought the urge to jerk it out of his grasp, but then he pulled me closer and linked our arms.  “Come, let me show you.”  I sent a pleading glance at Ma, but the veil made it worthless, as he led us to the furthest stone. Ma sank to the grass once we reached it, and I freed myself of the Droma’s grasp to join her on the ground, wrapping my arms around her as I stared at the stone.  Arteras Galanis 921 N.H. – 977 N.H.  My grip around Ma tightened as she started rocking slightly, her hand escaping the confines of her veil to caress the carving of Pa’s name with the tips of her fingers. I pursed my lips as my throat grew increasingly tight, staving off the tears for now. She escaped my hold, her hands reaching out to brace herself as she pressed her forehead against the ground, right up against his gravestone.  She was murmuring something. Something I couldn't catch. But then, the words weren’t for me.  I placed my hand on her back, rubbing as gently as I could as I surveyed the sea. Could he hear her now, wherever he was?  Hopefully, he could.

hull

I looked up, finding the stern sinking amidst the debris. The faded red [ship's name] painted onto the side of the hull was glaring back at me in the dimly lit waters.  I was trembling again.  Not with fear, but with an unbridled rage.   I changed my grip on the dagger, holding it like I had the shard of the plate that I slain [the captain] with and surged toward the surface. Sputtering, I took in great gasps of the frigid, salty air and whirled around, torrents of rain pelting my face.  It was coming down in sheets, mingling with the blooming pools of blood surrounding the cleft ship. The [ship's crew] were pouring out of the hull, into the waiting daggers and swords brandished by the mermaids.