#no more mental illness only big ass heavy winter coat

[v-iv-rusty]

$20 coat I bought at the thrift store thats at least 1 size too big save me

[edmund-valks]

Prelude Night (Ilandreline)

Winter's Veil was confusing.  Greatfather Winter?  Ugly sweaters and brightly wrapped gifts?  The traditions were not hers, not did she understand how they had originated.  Not that it really mattered -- her friends were into it, so she would do her best to participate.

For herself, though, Ilandreline stuck to little bits of the family rites.  She'd purchased her candle long ago.  Two, actually, to test the seller's claim that it would yield both non-toxic smoke and dark purple light.  It could only be better if there was one that made things darker, but that audience was likely too limited for any shop to worry about them.

Despite recent events, she left the safety of the Respite.  Not unarmed, of course; there was no requirement to be weaponless for these things.  In fact, it was extremely ill-advised to do so.  Between excitable relatives and unspeakable horrors from beyond, the odds of dying on Prelude Night were actually significantly higher than on almost any other.  Her satchel carried the usual implements: a heavy wrench, a small sledge, her trusty bonesaw, and an array of grenades.  Also the candle and a handheld firestarter, because flint and steel were a pain in the ass.

A wiser person would have used the lookout camp.  That would have been a great idea, far enough removed to be mostly private, still close enough to avoid being truly alone on the most ominous night of the year.  Ila didn’t think much of great ideas, though, or being a wiser person.  She did just fine as she was; no need to change.  As such, she left the protective barrier of the Warding Tree, headed for a little spot she’d found nearby.

It wasn’t too far a walk, though the distance was enough to make her glad she’d worn her heaviest coat.  It was her warmest as well as the most protective -- an excellent dual-purpose item considering the number of mindless dead who would very much enjoy a warm-blooded meal on a cold night.  By the time she reached the cave, the hood’s fur trim was beginning to frost over, her breath having frozen amidst the soft hairs.

Just inside the jagged opening, Ilandreline turned around to scratch several crude symbols into the ground.  Two more followed in an ink that was only easily viewed with peripheral vision, one on either side, and then a final overhead.  She said the prayers, such as they were, the words echoing in her mind.  It was her voice that spoke, she knew, but all she could hear was the thousandfold reverberation of whispers from within.  The truest darkness was never empty, after all, especially when daylight was at its weakest.

A barrier flickered between the sigils, visible for only the briefest moment.  If she’d done it right -- and the weird thrumming inside her indicated she had -- it would disguise the opening entirely from passersby.  It would also turn aside the senses of the ghouls who roamed Silverpine, preventing them from taking her unaware.  At least in theory.

Faith, a voice whispered in her mind, keep always the faith.  You will be rewarded at the end.  It sounded like her mother this time.  An interesting choice, considering the two had never been particularly close.  But Mom had been the better of her parents at explaining the family’s peculiar religion, so maybe it made the most sense.

The cave was empty, its dirt floor hard packed and almost smooth from her work over the last ten days.  She placed a bowl in what passed for the center of the space, gently mashing the candle’s base into it.  Just so.  Now it would stand properly.  She pushed back her hood, forcing the sudden cold from her mind.  After several slow, shivering breaths, her goggles came off as well.  Her eyes were closed, of course, but not for much longer.  If she was going to do this, she’d have to open them.

Ilandreline relaxed, sort of.  There was a way to force the body to act relaxed, even when it wasn’t, and she’d had to learn it many, many years ago.  They all had, or else they hadn’t survived very long.  She went through her body mentally, muscle by muscle, unwinding those that hadn’t obeyed her initial command.  When the last finally uncoiled, she knew it was time.  Her eyes opened to the blinding dark.

Decades, perhaps centuries, before she was born, her family had abandoned the Sunwell.  The arcane was, they’d decided, not for them.  Maybe it was because the magisters were irritating; maybe it was the insistence that laws were supposed to be followed.  The details were never made particularly clear to her and they were rather moot at this point anyway.  No explanation would change the simple reality: her ancestors had sworn the family to that which lurked between the stars, the infinite blackness and mind-shattering horrors.  That was why they’d been exiled, of course; the quel’dorei authorities didn’t want anyone to know there was an alternative to the Sunwell.  Not needing the Sunwell meant not being subject to the magisters’ authority, and who among them could countenance such a thing?

A side effect of their unique independence was the peculiar vision she was using now.  If one took normal sight and replaced every colour with its opposite, that would almost explain what she saw.  There was more to it, though.  Like the way certain areas of emptiness could be seen from the corner of the eye, except they weren’t really emptiness at all.  They were quite full instead, though that fullness was composed of nothingness.  Those were the spots you had to ignore.  She refused to engage with them, even when images of lidless eyes or lamprey-like mouths flickered there, taunting.

Ilandreline pulled her firestarter from the bag, ignited the candle.  “A single light, flickering weakly,” she intoned in the other language she’d been raised with, the one far older than Thalassian.  “The last remnant of a dying sun, full of terrible promise and beguiling lies.  A tyranny of ill-advised order, never meant to withstand the endless dark.”

A prick of a finger then; a drop of blood on the burning wick.  Instead of smothering the flame, this fed it, the candle emitting a burst of light not unlike pouring fuel onto a bonfire.  “Our gift to you, this living blood, and a reminder of our bonds.  Our sacrifice is your gain, your whispers our knowledge.  All in service to the last fading of the light.”

Another drop.  “I’ve done little to bring the final darkening this year.  I don’t think anyone expected me to do differently.”  She was speaking Thalassian now.  Her vocabulary was too limited in the ritual tongue to do this part.  “I’m not like the rest of my family, you know.  They’re big into all this stuff, they’ve got goals.  Me, I’m just trying to do the things I’m good at, stand on my own.  I figure it’s not too big a deal that I’m not super involved anymore.  Sure, you don’t get a lot of blood sacrifice from me, but I also never use your power, so I figure we’re pretty even.”

The third drop.  “Under the circumstances, I’m not asking for anything, not even that you keep watch over these friends I’ve found.  They may not thank me for that kind of attention, for one, and I haven’t any offerings to seal such a pact.  The Long Night will come, I know, but I’ll leave that to my family to worry about.  We both know they’re always working toward it, and by not sticking around and having to kill more of them off, I’ve probably helped you more by leaving.”  She smiled at the thought.

Blood drop number four; the most important.  She watched it fall, looking for that special sign -- ah, there it was.  The redness hung suspended over the violet flame for an eyeblink, quivering, full of potentiality.  Then the fire consumed it, as, of course, it must.  Once again the rite spilled from Ila’s lips.  “Four for four, given by one.  Less than five, but greater by far.  After life, beyond death, the Long Night comes.  We kill to serve.  We bleed to live.  Through our sacrifice, the light shall die at last.”

She extinguished the candle as she spoke the final sentence, pinching out the flickering light.  As always, it hurt more than any other burn she’d ever experienced.  As always, it left no visible trace, simply the throbbing, bone-deep ache.  Rolling her shoulders to work out the stiffness that had settled during her obeisance, Ilandreline slowly got back to her feet.  The leather strap attached to her tinted lenses remained unbuckled for the moment, lying atop the contents of her pack.  Stretching out a hand, she traced her last rune for the night on the notional plane created by the sigil-conjured barrier.  There was no proper translation for the word represented by this symbol, though “consume” came close.  The barrier vanished, the patterns that had created it burning away as if they’d never been.

Stepping into the freezing dark, she pulled up her hood.  Another year gone, she mused, though this one suggested potential for the next.  Hope, even, something she hadn’t realized was missing.  Smiling, Ila turned her black eyes skyward.

It took a moment to realize there were no stars in her vision at all.  An omen, her mother’s voice whispered again, flitting through her mind like a bat in flight.  And what a glorious one it is, to look on the Eternal Dark before it has come!  There was a certain extra spring in her step as she returned to the Respite, goggles forgotten in her satchel.

[alitheamateur]

The Grind-Chapter 2

See what you’ve missed here …

We had been meeting at The Grind on Tuesday’s, Wednesday’s, & Saturday’s for the last two weeks. We discussed last names, home towns, the obvious sports, and the strange hatred we shared for cherry licorice. I took notes on the path that led him to becoming a fighter, & he filled me in on his basic training habits for a fight of this magnitude. He had been on the wrestling team throughout high school, & could’ve hand picked from the patch any college he wanted to attend, and a scholarship would’ve been offered on a silver platter. For a moment, I let myself envision Colton sporting a varsity letterman jacket marking the halls as captain of the wrestling team. The mental illustration may have produced an overdose of lust, which caused me to shift lustfully in my seat. He chose a rowdier way instead, consisting of drugs & some extra-curricular gambling debt, leaving him in need of some quick pocket cash before he quote, ‘got ran down by some greasy-haired bookie’. Enter, the dabbling inside the octagon. 

The first two matches he had managed to pin down had been easy defeats to his pleasant surprise, & a blue fired flame had been lit in his core. The adrenaline. The passion. The sheer ruthlessness was something he said he became dangerously addicted to. The rush of feeling alive, yet toying with combative death, replaced his desires of betting. As he climbed the latter of men’s’ competitive cage-fighting, his mom had fallen ill in the meantime. Leading him eagerly back home to her side, and promising to lay down his habitual drug use, and shady gambling. But the fighting, no. He explained how it had become his only way a life, and an outlet amid all the worrisome stress of his mother’s illness. And his speculations of my Pilot family beaming with excitement once I dropped the story onto their desks, had been correct. Ryan, my boss, had guaranteed me a full front-page for my “excellent snag.”

 This particular Saturday morning strayed away from the typical routine the two of us had settled into. Colton suggested I join him for his morning run through the city, and he’d show me around to some of the crevices of Pittsburgh I hadn’t seen. If I’m truthful, nothing about trouncing through the freezing streets of downtown Pittsburgh, in the dead of winter, at 4 a.m. appealed to my senses. However, the added minutes of Colton to my day, were ones I would gladly grasp on to. He offered to meet at my place, because it was “a real bad idea for a girl like me to be wondering alone in the streets at the break of daylight.”

Finishing my second layer of apparel, I took one last survey in the mirror dragging on the thermal elastic headpiece. My dirty blonde waves were tied in a tight ponytail, and I nixed the makeup, concluding this morning would involve ample sweating. I checked my watch spitting out the last remnants of toothpaste, assuring I wouldn’t have my running partner waiting. At that very second, I heard a heavy knock on my door. Spewing a nervous exhale, I made my way to the front of the apartment, loosening my tensed shoulders, and rolling my neck along the way. This was a simple run, not a date. He would probably have headphones stuffed in his ears the entire time, forgetting I was even tagging along at his side. So, why was my stomach twisting dopy somersaults?

I swung the dark green barrier open, and his freshly awoken, soft eyes trailed up my form. “Good-morning sunshine.” He checked his watch, “And I see you’re right on schedule.”

I slung the thick mane off my shoulder as a “take that” to his cheeky tone of surprise at my ability to flop out of bed this time of day. I squeezed the handle closing the door behind me assuring I had locked it, and we made our way down the silent stairs from my upper level abode.

“How far are we going again?” I kicked myself for only now deciding to request that particular information.  

“I tracked a course that’ll bring us right back to your place. It’s just 4 miles. You think ya’ can handle it, hot shot?” He smiled teasingly & began jogging backwards out of sight without any warning. What had I gotten myself into?

 Just as he’d promised, we completed his perfectly mapped out 4-mile route, ending at the very steps of my apartment complex. There wasn’t much talking along the way, but he’d shoot me a wink shaking his head, impressed that I was able to keep up. We decided to skip out on The Grind, & instead I extended an invite for coffee at my place.

“Make yourself at home, I’ll get the pot started.”

As I was pulling mugs & filling the Mr. Coffee, I watched him intently from afar. He began wandering around my living room looking at every picture I had framed on display. Senior prom with all the girls from the team, my best friend Sara & I on our unplanned trip to Mexico before I left home. He seemed genuinely interested in seeing more of me and his eyes smiled, meticulously observing a deeper look at my life in the snapshots. Who I really was, and where I came from. I could feel a warm snicker sneak onto my lips at the realization.

While the liquid brewed in the kitchen, I found my way back to the living room to join my guest. I dead-weighted myself onto the leather couch with a dramatic, exhausted sigh.

“And here I thought you were in shape after stayin’ on my ass this morning.” He laughed, making his way to the open seat next to me. I extended a light kick in his direction for the insult.

“Next time, my rules. Let’s see how the big bad cage fighter takes on 100 suicide sprints, huh?” Suicides were Coach Gibson’s chosen form of torture, and boy, did he torture us. I considered myself a master of the trade by sophomore year.

“Do you ever miss it? Basketball, I mean?” He propped his sculpted arm on the back of the couch and turned to face me, and his eyes held such sincere interest.

“Every day. It was my way of life. I think, maybe my injury was life’s way of telling me it was time to expand. Grow up, ya’ know? Time to make another name for myself.”

“You have no idea much I get that, Liv. Honestly. But, it looks like you done pretty well for yourself on ya’ own two feet out here.”

That was enough about me, and the basketball topic for today. Ball would lead to my parents, my parents would unveil the family drama, and it wasn’t the right time for such. I needed to shift his attention to something lighter, and quick. But the shift it took, was not one I expected.

“I still can’t seem to get warm! My whole face is numb,” I shuddered.

He reached his masculine hands over playfully to smoosh my cheeks in an attempt to warm my frozen skin, my lips forming into that of a duck face. I reached for his wrists, giving a weak effort to pry his scorching hands from my face with a chuckle. My doe eyes locked with his, and I watched them turn from lighthearted and tender, to darkly mischievous. Our bodies tensed in unison, and he lightened the grip he had on my now very flushed skin, but didn’t release. His dark shadow slowly carried itself into my personal space, and I knew what was coming next. I didn’t dare rush the intensity of this moment, nor do anything to stop the inevitable. The misty bluish orbs on his face danced from my eyes, to my lips. Eyes, to lips. Eyes, to lips. His left hand eased back a fly away strand of hair that was sticking to the apple balm on my mouth, then he coated his own lips before they finally reached their desired destination.

They were every bit as perfect, and downy as I knew they’d be. Instantly, my first reaction was to melt to doughy-like putty when his large arms slowly began to cloak my small form. I was nearly high from the sheer bliss, and my entire body appeared to lose feeling. Yet, it seemed feel everything in the air at the very same time. Limbs immobilized, along with my mouth, which was doing little to sustain its role in what was transpiring between us. I pinched my thigh between two fingers to awaken myself, & suddenly my body caught up with my mind. I reached my arm up to caress the back of his thick neck as he began to deepen the kiss, grazing my fingers through the baby hairs that laid sweat slicked there.

We just jogged 4 miles, how does he smell so good?

I could vaguely taste drops of salty sweat leftover from our morning adventure. His hands wandered over my hips to the small of my back, squeezing almost as if he didn’t realize his own strength. A glossy tongue tickled my lips gently requesting entrance. All too eagerly I obliged & opened my mouth to welcome him in with lazy a mewl of need. Our tongues danced to an unfamiliar rhythm in efforts to learn how the other moved. I could feel the build between my thighs becoming irrefutable, causing the stickler in me to pull away abruptly. I accepted this night would likely end with a forbidden visit from my battery-operated friend stored in my bedside table.

“Woah, Ritter. Let’s take a breather, yeah? Didn’t see that coming.”

His face still dangerous, minimal inches from mine he spoke. “Honest? I been plannin’ that one since the second I laid eyes on ya’, kid.” He winked & bit his pillowy bottom lip, nearly sending me choked over the edge of heated exile.

I dipped my head feeling the flush rise up my neck. Colton Ritter was pushing all the right buttons & he knew it. “How about that coffee now? Although, I’d say it’s plenty warm in here at this point...” I grinned.

I escorted him to the kitchen, seemingly walking with the legs of a clumsy fawn, and served him a dark cup of caffeine. He asked about some of the pictures he’d noticed throughout the house, & I told a few old basketball tales from my “glory days.”

“What would you say to gettin’ together again sometime, Liv? Someplace other than The Grind, & no damn sweats allowed. For either of us.”

I patiently held off on answering, giving my best effort to play it off calmly. “I think I could manage that just fine. I might even enjoy it, too.”

TAGS: @torialeysha @eap1935