#everdarkwip

[lorenfinch]

Out of Context Line Tag

Rules: Make a new post with a couple sentences from a WIP with zero context.

Tagged by: @wintherlywords (thank you so much!)

He gave me one glance before hurrying towards the door. But once upon a time I was the fastest boy in Fabros, and in a manner of seconds my fingers closed around the softest velvet I’d ever touched. “Bloody pits!” Vince cursed, whirling to face me. “Unhand me this instant!”

Tagging: @revenantlore, @sentfromwolves, @meerawrites, @ceph-the-ghost-writer, and anyone else who wants to!

[lorenfinch]

“Emperor, Deliverer, I beg of you—forgive me for what I must do.”

I'm shamelessly stealing this from twitter, but writers !! Quick, reblog with the last line or two that you wrote, no cheating.

[lorenfinch]

Chapter 15 is DRAFTED!! The plot thickens, guts are punched, and the next chapter is gonna be an emotional one!

[lorenfinch]

OC Description Tag

Thank you so much to @writernopal for tagging me!!

Rules: Share an excerpt from your WIP that describes one of your OCs.

Gonna share a description of my girl Belladonna, leader of the Night Terrors! Technically it describes two characters in one, though Ren himself got a bit of his own description earlier!

We could’ve easily been siblings. We shared the same pale skin, the same ever so slightly pointed ears. Her hair was black just like mine, though much messier than my own coiffure. Her features were much sharper than mine, all bones and angles. Besides the stark resemblance, what astonished me the most was her clothing—she wore nothing but old-fashioned, haphazardly dyed stays for a top, tight trousers ripped at the knee, and tall black boots with an absurdly high heel. Her bright scarlet eyes were encircled in kohl and her lips and sharpened nails were painted black. She stood with her hands on her hips, proud as any king, and I wondered whether I should be bowing.

Tagging (gently): @macabremoons @kaiusvnoir @sam-glade @serenanymph @worldsfromhoney

[lorenfinch]

Last Line Tag

Thank you @the-down-upside-finch for tagging me!

Here's a snippet of my Everdark WIP, as usual:

“I’ll come back for you. I promise.” I leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cold, lifeless forehead before forcing myself to turn and walk away. Erevan followed close behind.

TAGGING: @writernopal @ceph-the-ghost-writer @kaiusvnoir and an open tag if you wish!

[lorenfinch]

Made a quick moodboard for the plot twist in Everdark!

We're doing an extra fun moodboard today. Without providing any extra context (unless you want to!) make a moodboard based around your story's plot twist!

[lorenfinch]

There's some people doing this on twt and I really like the graphics I made so I thought I'd share them here too! Two of my main characters from my WIP and some of their character inspirations. There are more but these are probably the most prominent. Also most of these are after the fact.

Gonna list them under the cut:

RENWICK: Wylan from Six of Crows (most similar), Renfield from Dracula, Jinx from Arcane, Jester from Critical Role

EREVAN: Viktor from Arcane (I imagine Erevan sounding exactly like him), Imogen from Critical Role, Sailor Saturn from Sailor Moon, Jesse from Breaking Bad

EVERDARK TAGLIST: @angie-j-kay @digitalsatyr23

[lorenfinch]

Last Line Tag

Hi!! I was tagged by @liv-is! Thank you so much!

Rules: post the last line or snippet from your chosen WIP. it can be as long as you like. You guys are gonna get a bit of a treat with this one 😈 [cw for: vampire-typical blood drinking]

As the elf’s blood ran down my throat, one of the many thousands of Luminous Faith hymns sprang to my mind. The gods were far too great to consume the food and drink of mortals, so instead, it was said they drank sacred nectar, born of the honey from fallen stars. In the hymn, Nethys, goddess of sinful pleasures, offered a mortal man a sip of this nectar, for she had found his curiosity amusing. That one sip was enough to drive the man to madness in search of just another drop, and because mortal food and drink had become subpar to his now enlightened tastes, he wasted himself away until he was but a skeleton.

I never understood how such a thing could happen until now. With a gasp I wrenched myself free of the elf’s wrist, of his nectar-filled artery, and stared into his flushed face. His pupils had blown wide, and I noticed that even in this walled chamber his silvery hair shimmered with starlight.

“I’m Renwick,” I breathed, licking the remainder of his blood off my lips. “You can call me Ren if you’d like.”

His eyes seemed to track the movement of my tongue, before landing back onto mine with a slight grin. “I’m Erevan.”

“Erevan,” I repeated, giving his name a taste. “That’s a lovely name.” Frustratingly, it didn’t sound nearly as melodic in my voice. I glanced towards his wrist, intending to offer to bandage it, but before my eyes, the pierced flesh bound itself back together, leaving only a trickle of leftover blood. I couldn’t help but marvel. It was reminiscent of a vampire’s regeneration, and I once again wondered just what he was capable of.

Tagging: @serenanymph @macabremoons @sam-glade @writernopal WIP TAGLIST: @angie-j-kay @digitalsatyr23 @sam-glade @worldsfromhoney

[lorenfinch]

Find the Word Tag: Massive Catch-Up Edition

Tagged by @serenanymph, @writernopal, @sam-glade, and @worldofthraeia! Thank you so much for tagging me and sorry this took so long to get to!

Tagging: @kaiusvnoir, @mjjune, @liv-is, @writinglittlebeasts, and leaving an open tag for the words arm, happy, late, and switch!

My words: fault, reflect, snarl, rage, savor, energy, camp, fortune, soft, knock, promise, gold, wing, want, win, wait, cold, crystal, cut, cross, bear, burn, bread, burrow, fight, flight, fling, and flick. That's right folks, saddle up 'cause it's gonna be a long one! All of these are from my Everdark WIP.

REFLECT (ch. 9):

Understandably, the room contained no mirrors, so I unsheathed one of the daggers I looted from the hunters. A silver blade, it seemed—my reflection was already fading from its sharpened surface. Yet I could still see enough of myself to haphazardly comb through my black hair with my fingers. It hit me then, that it had been weeks since I’d seen my own face—I hadn’t tried looking in a mirror since before my transformation. Indeed, my eyes had turned from blue to violet, and for the first time, I saw how I looked with pointed ears. There were still things I would change. I would wear a more tailored suit, and a sharper jawline. But I still vastly preferred this to the reflection I’d been forced to stare at in the attic of my family home. At least this reflection could smile.

SNARL (ch. 5):

Styx’s lip curled into a snarl, and I flinched at the harshness of their voice. “The Everdark is not my home. Perhaps it was, once. But that was long ago.” “…What changed?” I whispered. “It doesn’t matter now.” Styx clenched her fists as a pained look flickered across her face for but a second. “My curse forces me to hunt, and I choose to hunt monsters. Sometimes with the Guild. A cockatrice here, a manticore there. Other times…” Their voice trailed off, but I knew what laid in those unsaid words. I knew all too well.

Putting the rest under the cut for length.

A couple of these contain cws for: Victorian era-type misogyny and ableism, misgendering, suggestive content (consensual), blood drinking (consensual), minor gore

FAULT (ch. 9):

“Apologies, Doctor,” came the voice of my mother. “She should have outgrown these emotional outbursts by now. What a disgrace.” “Nothing to apologize for, my Lady,” replied the doctor. “If anything, the fault lies with me. I thought dispelling the unfeminine spirit would be enough to cure her hysteria, but clearly this girl is deeply disturbed.”

RAGE (ch. 10):

Her voice shook with rage, and I laid a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. “All the while, rumors swept the village, tales of a plague that rendered women infertile and turned them into monsters. Of course I took the transformation when it came. And I killed my shitstain husband and found the people I cared about and turned them, too. Tansy. My two surviving brothers. I turned countless strangers as well. And we won.” She laughed mirthlessly.

SAVOR (ch. 11):

“I assure you, darling,” the black-haired woman draped her hand on top of mine and gave it a squeeze. My dead heartbeat quickened in response. “I give you my utmost consent.” And before I could take her wrist, she reached up to undo the clasps of her necklace. Oh. I flushed once more as, invitingly, she pat the bare skin on her neck. Softly, hungrily, I granted her wish. Warm and savory, her blood rushed to my mouth, and she made no secret how much she enjoyed it. With one hand, she threaded her fingers through my hair, and pulled my body closer to hers with the other. Having warmed a few beds in the past couple of years, I was no virgin, and yet this was easily the most intimate, sensual moment I’ve ever experienced.

ENERGY (ch. 1):

With little else to focus on, I concentrated on the throbbing ache continuing to pulse through my wrists. The leather padding on the shackles and the additional barrier provided by my jacket sleeves only prevented the burn that would result from pure silver touching vampiric skin. The shackles still hurt, and they still drained—my energy, my strength, even any powers I’d developed. They weren’t many, but I still felt the difference.

CAMP (ch. 3):

After what had to be many hours of riding, the trees thinned into a clearing, and Sir Wendell decided this would be the camp for the time being. He and a few of the hunters were in charge of warding it. Garlic for undead, salt and sigils for spirits, and a carefully placed iron horseshoe for the fair folk.

FORTUNE (ch. 1):

No one knew how it was created, only that the enchantment bloomed in the southeast of the Avardinian continent and rapidly spread outward until it was the size of a small kingdom. I’ve heard many a religious person claim fervently and with great fear that it was the work of Luthar, god of misfortune. Mages and diviners alike have tried to undo the enchantment, but none succeeded. Thus the Everdark remained, a border between human and elven lands and a home for those who fell between the cracks, monster or outsider or otherwise.

SOFT (ch. 10):

“You’re soft,” she said. I reflexively flinched, but her voice lacked the venom that so many others had woven into those exact words. “You remind me of my brothers. I miss them.” I wished I could miss mine. I was soft for him once, too, but he had carved that away long ago.

KNOCK (ch. 11):

I did not respond, for at that point I had become transfixed on what laid ahead of me. A massive building loomed before us, nestled neatly between the trees as if it had actually been built there. Half-timber framed its walls of stucco and stone in a style reminiscent of the older buildings in Cedra, topped with a steep-pitched roof and lined with stained-glass windows depicting scenes of various creatures I assumed were fair folk in nature. Vines of ivy climbed the walls, interspersed with the sort of fungi I’d seen growing on tree trunks. The door was tall with a rusted brass knocker depicting a set of insect wings, and nailed to it was a wooden sign that plainly stated: FRIENDLY VISITORS WELCOME. A clear invitation.

PROMISE (ch. 2):

“You mean you won’t be coming with us?” I asked forlornly. Ainsley smiled, crossing the room to give me a pat on the shoulder. “Afraid not, lad. I’m needed here, not just to defend these folk from the vampires but also our regular nightly threats. Don’t give me those eyes, now, this is a fine lot here! You’ll be gettin’ along with them. But…” He leaned in close, lowering his voice. “If ya truly need me…I’ll be sure to find ya.” “Promise?” I whispered. Ainsley ruffled my hair. “Aye. I promise.”

GOLD (ch. 7):

He was the most opulent man I’d ever seen, dressed in a lush frock coat of blue and champagne velvet, with intricate golden filigree delicately embroidered throughout. His white boots, dragon leather based on the subtle texture, ended in a sole and heel of solid gold, and my jaw dropped as I realized the golden feathers on his impressive mantle were real phoenix feathers, an incredibly rare sight. His hair was a gold as his plumage, skin as pale as porcelain, eyes a dreamlike periwinkle. “May I come in?” the newcomer asked with raised eyebrows, and yet he crossed through the threshold anyway, much to the ire of the Night Terrors. “The fuck are you doing here?” “Get lost!”

WING (ch. 5):

When I was eight years old, my uncle Emmerick returned from one of his Everdark expeditions with a strigoi in tow. He kept the creature, a winged undead bloodsucker, caged in his lab. Most people are scared of creatures like this, he had said, but in actuality they’re quite fascinating. Is it a baby vampire? I had asked, to which my uncle responded no, that vampires were much more like people, except not quite. I’d pondered the strigoi then, thinking that despite its little batlike body flapping about, its face was vaguely reminiscent of that of a human. I gave the creature a name: Flappy.

WANT (ch. 10):

Styx carefully laid her scythe against a tree, then stepped into the clearing, arms held at her sides. The rising moon cast a pale halo onto their tall, dark silhouette. “Stab me.” “What?” I breathed. “I think these are silver. I don’t want to hurt you.” “Any blade can harm a mortal, and yet they still train with them,” Styx retorted evenly. “Stab me.”

WIN (ch. 6):

“Has to be centuries at this point,” Eirik replied, whistling in amazement. Admittedly, he didn’t look at all like how I pictured a vampire. He was broad, tough-looking, clearly a warrior who didn’t need fangs to win a fight. “Man, time flies.”

WAIT (ch. 3):

“Wait! Please don’t go! Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry!” But he said nothing in response, the silence carving a hole in my chest.

COLD (ch. 3):

When I woke up all I could think about was the blood I’d lost, and the blood I’d gained. Whatever wound I’d received had healed, and yet my flesh was cold as death. All around me were the bodies of the men who’d tried to kidnap me, all cut open with fangs and claws except for one. Bleeding, yes, but alive, and smelling utterly decadent.

CUT (ch. 9):

“You know, as enjoyable as this rather compromising position is,” said the elf, bringing a blush to my face as I realized just how I was holding him—wrists pinned above his head, our faces mere hand’s breadths from each other. He was only a few inches taller than me, with moonlight in his hair and the tiniest of stardust freckles dotting his cheeks. He bled from a small cut to the face, and oh, how utterly sweet he smelled. “I’m afraid I must ruin the moment.”

CROSS (ch. 3):

For the first time since our traveling party crossed the twilit threshold, one of the hunters spoke up. “How d’you know it’s them?” “Here in the southern Ferrywood all the way to Undertaker’s Bay is where they stalk,” replied Sir Wendell. “They’re a clever bunch. They’ve been known to work with sirens to take down entire battleships. Be very cautious.” “Battleships? An’ we’re supposed to trust these two to talk ‘em down?” another hunter, a tall, broad-shouldered man with jagged teeth, demanded. He gestured wildly at Styx and me as he continued. “A posh little prince and a bloody heathen?”

BEAR (ch. 9):

“Sorry,” he whispered, looking tremendously small. Feeling guilty for startling him, I shook my head and apologized in return. Mirko gave me a tiny smile and held out his arms, and it was then I saw that in his hands he held a stuffed animal of some sort—bear? Wolf? Otter? I couldn’t tell, but it looked lovingly stitched together. “Tansy made her for me,” Mirko explained. “She helps with the nightmares.”

BURN (ch. 8):

“All of us were transformed at some point during the uprising,” said Amaryllis, a faraway look on her face. “Dahlia and I were born in the same village. Edenlin, in the deepest wilds. We didn’t think the raiders would come that far, but they did, and we were forced to flee and watch as our home burned to the ground.” Reading the saga was one thing, but hearing a firsthand account was something entirely different. “I’m sorry,” was all I could say. “I took the transformation first,” said Dahlia. “Amaryllis turned to magic instead, but…” “It wasn’t enough,” Amaryllis’ voice turned to a low growl. “I summoned fair folk, I animated skeletons, I cursed the blood of the raiders. Things anyone would consider witchcraft. But there was something incredibly satisfying about clawing the smug face of the man who torched my home.”

BREAD (ch. 2):

When he or any of the other hunters spoke, they cheered, some running up and handing them gifts—bundles of flowers, coin, loaves of bread.

FIGHT (ch. 10):

Fighting Styx was different from fighting Belladonna. Belladonna had been a brawler, a panther, a blade made flesh. Styx, on the other hand, was a barrier, an impenetrable wall of stone that only moved when she pleased. Finding an opening should have been easy, especially since Styx seemingly wore no armor, but I was blocked and parried at every chance.

FLIGHT (ch. 3):

Of course, we still crossed paths with various creatures wandering the woods. A sudden movement from the branches above us startled several of the hunters, but it only turned out to be an owl taking flight. Our next sight was less familiar, and sent chills down even my spine—a trio of odd creatures feasting on a dead elk right on the edge of the path. They looked humanlike but all wrong, a pale, twisted caricature of a corpse. I knew these creatures by name, though I had only seen drawings and anatomical diagrams in books and in my uncle’s laboratory. Ghouls, devourers of the dead, harmless to the living. They scattered into the darkness as we approached, but we kept a wide berth nonetheless.

FLICK (ch. 3):

“Explains the bandages,” Styx mused, spaded tail flicking side to side like a cat’s. “Remain watchful of your hunger. The less blood a vampire takes, the more they must feed. Have you killed yet?”

CRYSTAL, BURROW, FLING: n/a

[lorenfinch]

Hi Liv; I'm sorry to hear you're going through all of that; that sounds tough!

Recently in Everdark, I finished my first draft of chapter 9, and finally introduced the love interest Erevan! I'm so excited; he's a fun character and already him and Ren have had some good banter going.

Started chapter 10 yesterday too, and this draft is rapidly starting to become the furthest I've ever gotten in a multi-chapter story! I think right now the longest was this crossover fic I'd written in like middle school that ended up with around 12 chapters before I lost steam? Anyway, with chapter 10 started for this, I am determined to not just smash past that record but actually finish this thing! The power of outlines I guess <3

Current goal, which I've been pretty much able to follow so far, is two chapters a month, which means I aim to finish drafting chapter 10 and 11 this month. Some backstory, some character growing, and also the plot thickens!

Hi writeblr <3

I am making this post at ass o'clock and will probably rb it a few times but i am trying to make an effort to reinvest in my writeblr sphere after several weeks on depression & cluster b island

And I had noticed that I had gotten a few more followers in this time, and I feel so bad that I haven't had the energy or wherewithal recently to dive into learning more about everyone's WIPs... but I would really like to....

So please, if you have the time & spoons....

Rb or reply to this post with some fun info about your favorite pieces/WIPs!

And honestly? Feel free to just link to intro posts or character sheets or even memes also :) (I know typing stuff out can be a lot).

I want to take the time to read and really appreciate every one! It means a lot to me to cultivate a space on tumblr where I feel involved in a community of writers, and this is a part of that for me. <3

Please bear with me as I continue to crawl out of my pit LOL. mwah.

[lorenfinch]

Find the Word Tag

A massive catch-up post! I was tagged in four posts by @writinglittlebeasts, @liv-is, and @serenanymph to find the words agape, borrow, one, rummage, hum, don't, star, strong, summer, smear, smash, row, follow, mouth, drag, and great! Let's see if I can find all of them!!

AGAPE

And yet, as we approached the castle, I felt not like a hero in the making but like a prisoner marching to his own execution. As burly looking guards bearing the same seal as Ainsley and the rest moved to open the gates, I spotted two marble statues placed grandly at each side of the entrance. I recognized the visages instantly: on the left stood the stern, withered Visdar, god of order and law. On the right stood Dontos, god of retribution, clad in ancient Erydean armor and mouth agape in a silent shout.

“You can enter,” said Ainsley, and while a weight was lifted off my chest with the invitation, my body still prickled with unease as I passed between the statues, as if any moment they’d jump to life and kill me right then and there.

ONE

Ainsley too adjusted his seating position, criss-crossing his legs and resting his elbow on one of his knees as he leaned forward towards me. “So. Like I said, I’d like to get to know ya. I gave ya my name, didn’t I? I’d say it’s about time for you to give me yours.”

“I’m Renwick.” It occurred to me that perhaps I should’ve given him a false name. Would he know? Would he be able to figure it out? And yet I didn’t regret a single syllable, for telling him my name, my real name, felt like a triumph.

RUMMAGE

“Oh, you found my whale log! I’ve been keeping that for centuries!” Dahlia chirped from behind me. I yelped and dropped the journal in surprise. Over my shoulder, I saw her standing there sheepishly while Amaryllis rummaged through one of the drawers and Vlastimir—whose entrance had also been quite silent—leaned against the doorframe. “Sorry,” Dahlia stammered. “Should’ve announced myself first.” I gave her back her journal, mumbling an apology of my own.

“Aha!” Amaryllis held up a small, corked bottle and offered it to me. “Homemade pain potion. Made from ginger, turmeric, and from vampire venom produced by yours truly. Thought it might be of use; the regeneration process is much slower for newer vampires and that wound looked painful.”

DON'T

The woman in black spoke up next. “We don’t even know if she’s still alive.” Her voice shook with worry as she grasped her skirt in her hands. “I tried using divination to determine her location, but I couldn’t find her. It was like she was shrouded from my view. Which means either she’s blocked by significant amounts of silver, or she’s…”

“Of course she’s still alive!” Belladonna snapped. Her scarlet eyes blazed as she took to pacing the room, rage coloring her every step. “They lock her away behind their threshold spell, probably torture her for information about us, and then send our own fucking kind after us!”

STAR

He led us not along the main road, but instead veered off into the woods, following a narrow trail presumably left by deer and other animals. The further away from the Cedran border we trekked, the thinner the forest grew, the twisted old growths of the Ferrywood fading into conifer forests that reminded me of my home kingdom. They were still dense, yes, but looking up past their needling curtains I gazed upon the vast canvas of stars. They glittered like fireflies, comforting, and for a brief moment it felt like they were calling out to me.

SUMMER

Wait. I did remember the presence of a summer elf in the Saga. The Saga neglected to mention where he came from, why he was there.

ROW

Either way, I certainly wasn’t sleeping. After what felt like hours, I rose from the bed, giving up for now and deciding to explore instead. First, I examined the rows of books. Their edges were yellow with age, and many were written in languages I didn’t speak, but judging by the illustrations on the covers I gathered that most of these books were either about alchemy or magic. Witchcraft, likely, given what Amaryllis has told me. Though, truthfully, witchcraft was just a foreboding-sounding name for any magic forbidden by law, such as necromancy, summoning rituals, and curses.

I spied one work of fiction, a copy of The Saga of Lief the Uniter lying discarded on the ground and covered in dust and cobwebs.

FOLLOW

I closed my eyes. I had been unable to transform before, or fly, but perhaps now would be different. Perhaps now that I stood in my future home, surrounded by fellow vampires, I would finally be able to grasp that power.

Nothing.

When I failed to follow, Styx dropped her transformation, as did the two Night Terrors. “What’s wrong?” asked Vlastimir.

Shamefully, I stared at the ground, arms hugging my torso. “I can’t transform,” I admitted. “Not to a bat, not to mist. I can’t fly, either. Or charm people.” I looked back up at the others, chest tightening as I considered a terrible thought. “I’m…I’m not a failure of a vampire, am I?”

MOUTH

The corners of Styx’s mouth twitched, but she didn’t reply to my apology. Instead, she asked, “When did you feed last?”

“The other day,” I replied. Slight pangs of hunger resounded through my body, as if a beast stirring from its slumber. “Ainsley let me feed from him.”

“Explains the bandages,” Styx mused, spaded tail flicking side to side like a cat’s. “Remain watchful of your hunger. The less blood a vampire takes, the more they must feed. Have you killed yet?”

DRAG

I approached one creature from behind and drove the stake through its head, unsure if it would do the trick, but thankfully it fell. I did the same with another, saving the last remaining hunter from its snapping maws—Thomas, I remembered.

Thomas stared at me with wide, terrified eyes and sweat running down his brow. For a brief second I thought he would try to spear me too. But instead, he swallowed, nodded, and muttered a thanks.

I didn’t even have time to react before he too was dragged off.

GREAT

My hands shook and my breaths grew rapid. There had been so much blood. I had been drugged, beaten, chased into the forest and captured by swordsmen bearing my family’s banner. Men who had been hired to take me back home, a fate worse than death. Then, in the night, a great black shape flew from the woods and tore through one of the mercenaries. A fight broke out. In my addled state I tried to stumble away, only to fall to my knees. Then, blood. A river of it, flowing from my own body. Then, I was in someone’s arms, blood steadily dripping into my slackened jaw, before darkness claimed my vision.

BORROW, HUM, STRONG, SMEAR, SMASH: n/a

TAGGING (gently): @macabremoons @outpost51 @sam-glade @writernopal and anyone else who wants to for the words home, history, point, and local!

[lorenfinch]

Find the Word Tag

Thank you for the tag @serenanymph! My words were contact, allow, nightmare, and roll!

CONTACT:

I felt one crossbow poking the back of my head and hissed as the silver on the tip of the bolt made brief contact with my skin. It felt like a pinprick burn, exacerbated by the silver manacles wrapped around my wrists. “All right, ya numpties, give him some space,” came the voice of my volunteer blood-giver, a sixth monster hunter and the only one of their group who’d seen fit to introduce himself to me. Ainsley MacGregor, grizzled and rugged. I estimated he was in his late forties and identified his thick accent as west Ikrevari. “And you, laddie—“ He tapped me on the shoulder, the signal we’d agreed upon that it was time for me to stop. “That’s enough there. Don’t want to overdo it, aye?”

ALLOW:

“Until then, I’ll be sure to make the rest of this shite-filled journey as comfortable for ya as possible. As much as these dolts allow it, anyway,” he added with a cheeky grin as he jerked his thumb in the direction of the rest of the hunters. “You’ll protect me, right?” I asked before I could stop myself, glancing warily at the other hunters. “It’s my duty, aye?”

NIGHTMARE:

I gasped, my face lighting up. I’d first read Cry of the Banshee when I was much too young to be reading tales of blood and teeth, and that night had been plagued by nightmares that kept me from sleeping soundly. Ever since, I had been fascinated by the novel, a twisted tale of a Staski village haunted by a young woman who thirsted for blood. The Banshee, they’d called her, for the way she wrathfully wailed every time she killed, but she was no mere spirit. In the end, the Jarl of the village and his men successfully drove her into the woods, and the very last line implied that she was still out there to this day. It was one of many books inspired by real vampires throughout history, and I devoured it over and over. “I read her story,” I breathed. “It was so…she’s so…” “Bricky?” Eirik supplied.

ROLL:

“Such a shame your hands have to be tied.” William shook his head. “I’ll release you myself if my father permits it.” My heart soared, hardly believing I was hearing such things. “Don’t be foolish, boy,” was Sir Wendell’s response, and just like that my hopes were dashed. “Vampires are tempters by nature. Don’t fall for his wiles.” I didn’t even know how to charm people, but even that didn’t matter whilst I was still bound by silver. Sir William heaved a sigh, rolling his eyes in his father’s direction before turning back to me, his expression softening.

GENTLY TAGGING @macabremoons @liv-is @writernopal @sam-glade @jasperygrace and anyone else who wants to for the words stalk, fresh, flounce, winter, and leather!

[lorenfinch]

Heads Up Seven Up + Last Line

Ooh, a double meme! Time to post the last seven lines I wrote! Tagged by @ls-daydreams; thank you!!

cw for allusions to abuse

It was nothing new, this sort of vehement rejection. I knew it well growing up, from my peers whenever I tried to play with them, from esteemed visitors brought to my family home, from priests and respectable townsfolk and my own brother and parents. Yet it hurt all the same. I really thought becoming a vampire meant I would be swept away to some faraway castle where I would be courted by its mysterious lord, where I would become the subject of poems, the next muse for the dark and mysterious, and no one would ever think of lifting a finger to hurt me ever again.

Yet here, it felt like the only thing that had changed was the shape of my ears and the sharpness of my teeth. I took small comfort in the fact that I could now fight back against any who wished me harm, but…Radiance, I didn't want to fight anybody. I just wanted to be liked.

TAGGING: @writernopal @serenanymph @muddshadow @liv-is and anyone else who wants to!

WIP TAGLIST: @digitalsatyr23 @angie-j-kay

[lorenfinch]

“You left quite the trail of blood indeed,” murmured Baumgartner as he wrote everything I said. “MacGregor tells me it was exceptionally easy to track you down.” He grabbed another piece of parchment and, I presumed, transcribed everything he’d written onto it. Then, he folded up the second piece of parchment, and on it he stamped a wax seal that shimmered slightly upon impact. With more disgruntled muttering, he hobbled to one of the stained glass windows and opened it, and to my great surprise there in the windowsill sat a gargoyle. I pointed, gawking, at the stone-like creature. Back home, I’d been told that living gargoyles were a myth. Not even my uncle had seen one. “Is that—“ “One of our messangers,” drawled a woman with curly brown hair and a sabre at her hip. Her chair was tipped back at an absurd angle, her boots on Baumgartner’s desk seemingly being the only thing keeping her balanced. My parents would’ve shuddered at the uncouth display. “Since hawks can’t see in the dark.”

WIP TAGLIST: @digitalsatyr23 @angie-j-kay

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[lorenfinch]

Find the Word Game

Tagged by @writernopal; thank you so much!!

My words were: ache, mortal, ancient, divine!

ACHE [Chapter 1]:

With little else to focus on, I concentrated on the throbbing ache continuing to pulse through my wrists. The leather padding on the shackles and the additional barrier provided by my jacket sleeves only prevented the burn that would result from pure silver touching vampiric skin. The shackles still hurt, and they still drained—my energy, my strength, even any powers I’d developed. They weren’t many, but I still felt the difference.

MORTAL [Chapter 18]:

“Back so soon?” Erevan teased in that lilting voice of his. He bowed gently in front of me, holding out his hand as if to guide me down the steps towards a masquerade. I accepted it, closing my slender hand around his bony fingers with a gracious smile. However, as soon as our fingertips touched, I heard the distinct sound of a heart in front of me beginning to race. “Sorry,” I mumbled, wincing. “Is my hand too cold?” “Hm?” He gave my arm a gentle tug, and with his help I hopped into the room. It was a simple jump for a mortal and an even simpler one for a vampire, one I was deftly prepared for. But instead, he wrapped an arm around my waist and caught me before I landed, and for a brief moment, I was enveloped in warmth. Despite his fragile frame, Erevan was strong enough to carry me, and the sound of a racing heartbeat grew louder and more fervent. This time, he used magic to close the shutters behind me. “No, no, you’re perfectly fine.”

ANCIENT [Chapter 10]:

Belladonna heaved a long sigh, looking once more like a weary ancient entity trapped in the body of a young woman. Arms crossed, she collapsed onto the log beside me, hissing at the sudden pop of what I guessed was her spine.

DIVINE [Chapter 3]:

They wandered into a faint shaft of moonlight, beaming upon them like a ray of godly energy, and divine was their visage indeed. They were pale, oddly beautiful, like a statue made flesh.

I am rather low on spoons at the moment, so I'm leaving an open tag for the words drain, cry, furl, and cross!

WIP TAGLIST: @angie-j-kay @digitalsatyr23 @sam-glade @worldsfromhoney

[lorenfinch]

Six Sentence Sunday

Thank you @writernopal for tagging me!

I'll leave an open tag for anyone who wants to!

Writers: post (approximately) six sentences from something you’re working on. If you aren’t ready to do that, add six sentences to your WIP.

Foreboding. Haunting. Welcoming. Within three steps, the forest had completely engulfed the clouds overhead, and I knew then that even on the brightest summer day these trees would consume any sunlight that dared attempt to enter, a shroud for the shadows and shelter for the night. Lining the road were magically lit lamp posts, our only source of light and no doubt a lifeline for someone unaccustomed to the dark. As we rode, a cool, midnight breeze embraced my body and lovingly combed through my hair, as if promising safety from the sun and its all-consuming luminance. “This forest is known as the Ferrywood,” Sir Wendell’s voice was a low rumble, quiet yet threatening. “Under ordinary circumstances, I’d tell you all to be wary of lycanthropes stalking these woods. Though, in these times…we could encounter anything. Stick together at all costs.”