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autumnalwalker · 8 months

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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)

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #my writing #tag game #writing tag games #seven snippets seven people #7 snippets 7 people #empty names

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druidx · 11 months

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7 Snippets, 7 People

Thanks for the tag, @artdecosupernova-writing, @eli-writes-sometimes & @late-to-the-fandom. Because I got many tags for this game, I figured I'd throw them together and do 21 excerpts.

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 7 snippets and then tag 7 people (DW, I'm not expecting anyone else to do 21 snips 😅️)

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

One

Alexis hurried off again, every step taking her further from her companions. Halfway down the west corridor, the tapping of claws sounded from around the corner ahead. Alexis' heart sped up. Along the long, straight corridor there was little cover – only the nook where a support buttress met the ground. Quickly, she stuffed herself into it, crouching down, thinking small, invisible thoughts. Two goblins passed her hiding spot. By their conversation, their attention was less on any interlopers and more on what they were having to eat once their shift was done. Alexis waited, hardly breathing, until they had turned the corner. She counted out slowly, keeping her ears alert. When it was clear they'd moved on, she slipped out of the nook, continuing her investigation.

Two

At the corner, turning back east, she noted an alcove on the inner wall. A quick look showed a set of stairs spiralling down into the inky darkness. Not the direction they intended to travel, but worth noting for later investigation. Alexis continued down the corridor, passing a wide door of sturdy, studded wood. It must lead to the outer defences. At the further end, she paused at a door on the outer wall to check the sounds coming from within; a barracks, this one. Once again, the corridor turned sharply right, southwards now. Halfway down was a shadowy alcove. Alexis frowned – that had to be the stairs up. As she approached, the scritching of goblin claws on stone came again. She ducked into the alcove’s far side with only a moment to spare, breathing lightly as the goblin guards rounded the corner on their patrol and strode on past. She waited, eyes on the winding stair above, willing her heart to slow, as the receding click of claws counted down the seconds.

Three

As soon as it was safe, Alexis started to duck out of the alcove but paused. Richard and Ithanor hadn’t come rampaging around the corner yet, and it would be prudent to at least observe the next level… As fast as she dared, she scampered up the stairs, peaking into the next level. The brightly lit corridor led away in the same manner as below, racks of arms and armour lining the way. Odd, that no doors lead off the inner wall… Feeling she was probably pushing the limits of her companion’s patience, she padded back, completing her circuit of the tower.

Four

This floor was well lit, flicking touches replaced with wicked lanterns, the light forced outwards by metal dishes behind each flame. A hacking cough from her left made Alexis freeze. She pulled back into the shadows of the stairs. When the cough didn't get any closer, she peaked out. At the end of the corridor was a barred door. On either side stood goblins with spears. There was no way of her exiting the stairwell without being seen so she retreated back to the others.

Five

"There's some kind of prison cell up there, and it's being guarded by two gobbos. They're looking right down the corridor. I'm good, but not even I can hide in plain sight like that," Alexis told them Richard hefted his sword. "They're evil. We should kill them." With a heavy sigh, Ithanor put a hand on Richard's blade, lowering it. "We can't. It'll create a ruckus and bring the whole tower down on our heads." "Maybe," Nathardin said, running a finger along his bowstring, "we should turn back. Captain Hengar told us not to take any unnecessary risks." As one, the group turned and glared at him. Nathardin held up his hands in defeat. "I'm just saying." "We have made it this far," Victor said with a glance to Richard and Ithanor. "We are strong, brave, and true! I know we have it within ourselves to defeat Zagor. We must continue!" "There was a lot of goblin and orc styled armour on this level. The woodling and I are both reasonably small. I bet we can convince them to leave their post. Right, Half-pint?" Ithanor raised an eyebrow. "It could work. Do you speak the goblin tongue?" Bastet's grin faltered. "No…" "I do," Alexis said. Richard and Nathardrin raised an eyebrow each at her. Alexis shrugged. "To know the language of one's enemy means you can always defeat him. That's what my Uncle used to say, anyway." Ithanor nodded. "Then it's agreed. Go select your new outfits, ladies."

Six

Their old armour shucked, Alexis passed her pack to Ithanor, muttering phrases in Goblinish. "You alright, Sprout?" Ithanor asked. "Yeah. I'm just rusty." Alexis blew out her cheeks. "Listen, Sprout." Ithanor crouched down. "I know you can do this. And you know, if Sindla fails you, we've got your back. You've just got to holler." "Keep forgetting that." "You'll get get used to it, lass." He rapped on the top of her helm. "Off you go. Telak guide your tongue."

Seven

With that, Alexis continued to feel out the lock, brow furrowed in concentration. With a faint clunk, it popped undone. "There." The dwarf shoved open the door. "Well knock me down with Moradin's hammer! 'Tis a woodling after all. Nice job with them green-skins, lass." "Thank you." Alexis' ears twitched, catching the distinctive rattle of Richard's heavy plate armour. "And here is the rest of our group."

Eight

As the others crowded around, Alexis introduced her companions to the dwarf. "I am Magar Silvarius, the boss of this here fort," the dwarf said, reaching up to shake hands with everyone. "I'm right glad you folks have come. My fellows are in the other cells. You think you can get 'em out?" "Of course we can free them," Richard said. With a flourish, he gestured towards the other barred doors. "Alexis?" "Yeah, sure. I'll get right on that," she muttered, heading towards the doors. Over her head, Magar called out, "Worry not lads and lassies. You’ll be out in a jiffy." The lock Alexis was picking popped open. "One down, seven to go…" The dwarves inside pushed out, shaking first Alexis' hand, then bustling over to Magar who embraced them. "Hey," Alexis called, "what happened to the gobbos we sent down to you?" "We took them out, of course," Richard answered. "Right. They have any keys on them? This would go a lot faster if I had help." "I think I saw a keyring on one of them," Nathardrin said. "I'll go check." Alexis sighed and got to work on the second door.

Nine

"Alright now, settle down, settle down!" Magar called after a while. "I've had a wee word with her ladyship-" here he nodded to another dwarf, standing a little apart, dressed in fine velvets, "-and we've agreed it's only right and proper we compensate these fine folk for their work in freeing us and taking our home back from these marauding nuisances." The dwarves cheered. Magar turned to the group. "The next level up contains our vault. But it’s also the most fortified level. There’s a guard post at every corner of the tower, and Moradin knows how many gobbos are in each." "We can take on whatever’s above," Richard said. "But there are still many vermin in the lower levels which stand between you and reclaiming your tower." Victor scratched at his chin, glancing at Ithanor. "A little help would not go amiss," he said and turned his attention back to Magar. "There are arms and armour down below, if you’ve any men still able to fight?" As he spoke, Alexis saw many of the dwarves nodding their heads, some pounding fists into their opposite hands. Magar must have seen it too, as she ran a critical eye over her people. "Aye. I think I’ve a few."

Ten

Soon the dwarves were back, armed and armoured. Five of the dwarves remained with the group; the rest were led by Magar's lieutenant back to the lower levels, set on wiping out the goblinoid invaders. "Here's the plan then," Ithanor said. "We'll split into groups of three. Alexis and Bastet will lead our most stealthy into position outside the furthest rooms. They'll hold until Richard and I can get into position. We attack simultaneously. Agreed?" Ithanor glanced around as the group variously nodded heads or gave murmurs of assent. "Alright, Alexis, take your team and check the coast is clear." "Right. Nathardrin and Victor, you're with me," Alexis said. "We'll take the far left room. What d'you think, Bastet? Five verses of Down in the Square?" "Make it seven," Bastet said, looking at the two dwarves who'd come to stand next to her. "Richard, Ithanor, give us seven verses of Down in the Square to get in place before you come up and give the signal." With that, she scampered up the stairs, and, once sure the coast was clear, called down, "C'mon, lads."

Eleven

The others were similarly successful; by the time the three of them had moved forward, the fighting was over and Magar was dismissing the dwarves to help with the fight downstairs. "Right, then," Magar said. "Now yer all here, let's have a wee look at those feckless beasties have done to my vault." They followed her around to a solid metal door, decorated with ornate geometric designs.

Twelve

"Magar," Ithanor said as they were finishing up. "Thank you for these gifts, and your help to clear the lower levels." "It’s no problem, laddie. You’ve still a few levels to go. Sure you don’t want an extra hand or three?" "We’ll take it from here. With these new weapons," Ithanor hefted his warhammer, "we’ll have the fort freed in no time." "Alright," Magar shook Ithanor’s hand. "Best of luck, all of ye. Moradin’s strength go with ye."

Thirteen

At the final stairwell, they paused, silent. Ithanor motioned for Alexis to go up first. Her heart in her throat, Alexis glided up the stairs, her crossbow primed. The top of the tower was a domed, circular room. To the south, bookshelves stood sentry beside a writing desk, piled high with scrolls and pens. To the north was a gleaming piece of equipment, with balls of multicoloured stones on concentric rings, taking up a large space by itself. But what caught Alexis’ eye was the figure to the east of the room, turned away fiddling with something on a bench filled with esoteric rods and scrolls. It was long and lean, draped in an ill-fitting robe of yellow. This has to be him! Alexis thought. There was no one else in the room, and he certainly fit the ideal of an evil warlock. She breathed out softly and raised her crossbow, training it on the creature’s narrow back. Her trigger finger curled. One good shot could end this now– "There is no point in doing that, little one." His grating voice filled the space. "You’ll find it will not work." Alexis jerked. Her bow triggered. The bolt rattled harmlessly off an invisible shield. Zagor sighed and turned. "What did I tell you? A shame. I thought you were the observant one." He tapped his foot, and it was then Alexis noticed the circle inscribed around him, arcane sigils dancing at its edges.

Fourteen

Alexis shivered. Her hand groped out for her meagre blanket; it found only hard-packed dirt. The air was cold and still and weighty in her nose – like the hours after a snowfall. Her face scrunched up. The middle of summer shouldn't be so cold. She rolled over, hand exploring a different way. Where was her blanket? She'd always had her blanket. After the Wargs and their riders had left, the folks who found her let her take items from her ransacked home. The blanket embroidered by her step-grandmother had been the first thing she'd grabbed, and it had never left her side, ever. So where was it? Her questing hand hit something hard and cold that rang with a dull chime. Smooth, metallic. Round. Alexis opened her eyes. Darkness, pressing in on all sides. A blank, black void. She sat up. If it wasn't for the feeling of her chest rising with each breath, or the sound of her heartbeat drumming in her ears, Alexis might have thought she'd gone to the Here After.

Fifteen

She sat, perfectly still, with one eye squeezed closed. In the incessant dark, she counted out time with her heartbeat. Slowly, she became aware of others breathing nearby. When she opened her eye, lumps appeared a few meters away, softly rising and falling. They were too slight, too low to the ground to be her companions. Confused, Alexis stood, turning to take in more of the strange situation. A chill breeze pricked her flesh. She wrapped her arms around herself, shocked to find she was wearing nothing but her undershorts and shift. Her eyesight more attuned, she searched for her equipment but found only the bars of a cage. The metal was cool and slick under her hands, ringing with a dull chime when she taped it. "Oh," she breathed. "Bollocks."

Sixteen

"Wake up, scum," the guard said, then in a mocking tone: "Breakfast is served." He slung a bowl of thin gruel onto the cell floor, barking out a laugh as half of it split on the floor. The women took turns, each quickly eating a spoonful of the gruel, with Bastet and Alexis last. Alexis tried not to think too hard about the taste or what it may have been made from, as the guards unlocked the cell.

Seventeen

Soon enough the menfolk were brought down. Alexis strained to see in the guttering torches, watching the procession of haggard elves as they passed by. She felt her heart lighten as she caught sight of the rest of their party. Nathardin and Victor looked ragged, but Richard and Ithanor still stood strong and true – though the latter already sported a purpleing bruise on his cheek. Alexis waited while the men's line was secured and the guards passed back, before she gathered up the slack in her line, shuffling to be closer to where Richard stood at the end of the men's line. She hissed up at him, and the elf looked down, relief spreading across his face. "Alexis! Thank the gods!" "Shh! Keep your voice down, you big twit." "Sorry," he whispered. "You have a plan, right? You can get out of this?" Alexis huffed. "No, no plan yet. They took all our gear." "Same here. We woke up with nothing." "There's very little I can do without my lockpicks. Even if I had something to use as a rake and tension, I'm not sure how much good it would do us. I'm sure you've noticed all the heavily armed guards?" Richard blinked and nodded. "Yeah. So even if I could get us out of our cells, we still have to deal with them in nothing but our skivvies." Richard opened his mouth – but was cut off by a whip-crack behind him. "Keep working, scum," a guard snarled. He prodded Richard with the but of the whip. "You – stop slacking!" Richard raised his pickaxe, face contorting, but Alexis put a hand on his knee. He looked down to see her shaking her head, eyes wide. With a growl, he turned the pickaxe on the mine face. The guard watched as Richard hewed huge chunks of rock and opal from the mountain. Satisfied, the guard turned, making his way further up the line. Richard paused. "He's gone," Alexis whispered. Richard dropped his pick. "I know you'll figure something out," he patted Alexis on the head, "cuz you're super smart. I'll pass the word along that we've got a lock-breaker who just needs some tools. Maybe one of the elves has something."

Eighteen

From Richard's other side came a heavy thud. Alexis looked around him to see one of the elves, an older man, collapsed on the floor. "Hey!" called the guard, marching back towards the fallen elf. "Get up! I said, get up you worthless milk-drinker!" The guard pulled back his foot, intending to kick the old elf. Before anyone else could move, Victor was there. The wizard cried out, falling to one knee as he took the blow meant for the elf. "Leave him alone," Victor ground out. The guard laughed. "Look like we got a hero here, boys," he called, summoning three other guards to join him. One of the new guards drew back his lips in a contemptuous snarl. "A good beating will teach you how things work around here." No matter how much she and Richard strained against their bonds, the chain wouldn't budge. They watched, helpless, as the three guards used feet and fist and whip to beat him bloody. Alexis growled – if only she had her tools! In frustration, she spat out a curse. One of the guards turned around. "You want some too, short-arse?" he said, flexing the whips between both hands as he strode towards her. Alexis cursed herself for being so stupid. The guard raised his arm. Alexis flinched back, squeezing her eyes closed. The blow never came. Only a pained grunt from above her. Alexis opened her eyes to find Richard standing between her and the guard. His back was ridgid, his fists clenched. The guard backed away, flicking the whip. "Back to work, cur," he snarled, but Alexis could see the fear in his eyes. Richard's head turned as he watched the guard back away, stumbling over a loose rock, until he was back with his mates. "All of you," the guard cried, cracking his whip again. "Quit gawking. The opal won't mine itself! Go on, move it!" Two of the guards dragged the elder elf away, the other two walking up and down the line, their whips flicking, as they cowed the slaves into action once again.

Nineteen

Back in their cell, the women were given another bowl of slop and a bucket of gritty water before the lights were expunged. The rest of the women curled up, as they had before, against the far wall. Bastet laid down in the middle of the cell, putting herself between the door and the women. Alexis was moving to join her when Nassurae called her name softly. "Yes?" Alexis asked, as Nassurae shuffled over. "I just wanted to thank you for what your friend tried to do today. The old man who fell was my father. He had been growing sicker for the past week. Nothing could have been done to save him – but your friend's actions allowed him to pass in some dignity, and for that I am thankful." Nassurae's green eyes shone in the darkness. "The resistance you showed too… We quickly gave up on our hope. But, perhaps – with your help – we may find it again. Goodnight, sá itil." "Good night." With that, Alexis curled up, back to back with Bastet.

Twenty

The next day arrived and left the same, but on the third Nassurae came to Alexis again. "Sá itil," Nassurae said. Alexis looked up from listening to Bastet's plans for eviscerating their captors. "Yes?" "I have something for you." The woman beckoned Alexis closer, and from the skirt of her shift revealed a flat section of metal and a piece of moulded wire. Alex's eyes grew large, and she hurried to take them, hiding them in the waistband of her shorts. "Where did you get these," Alexis breathed. "They are from my husband," Nassurae said. "He had planned to attempt our escape himself but did not have confidence in his abilities. After hearing your friends' tales of your skill, we agreed they would be better in your hands." Nassurae grabbed Alexis' hands, moss-green eyes mositening, her voice sinking low and shaking. "Please, please get us out of here. I know your people did their best for my father, but I could not stand it if I lost my husband here too." "It's okay," Alexis said. "We'll find a way, I know we will. My companions are resourceful and clever. I'll let them know of these tools and we'll come up with a plan to free everyone. I promise." Nassurae still gripped Alexis' hands, but she nodded, acorn-brown hair swaying with the movement. "Now, you must sleep," Alexis said. "Tonight is for remembering the stars. Tomorrow is for planning." "Of course." Grudgingly Nassurae let go of Alexis' hands and shuffled away to sleep with her people.

Twenty-one

Alexis returned to where Bastet sat cross legged, and lay down behind her. "What did she want?" Bastet asked. "She gave me some things I can use as lockpicks," Alexis said, her voice hushed. "I suppose Ithanor or Richard convinced the men we have a plan to escape. Being able to pick the cell doors is a good thing, but I'm not sure it helps us really." Alexis sighed. "I don't know if I'd be able to find our weapons and the men and free them before the guards would catch me." Bastet leant back against Alexis, her nails sounding a dull staccato on the dirt floor. "What if…" Bastet said slowly. "What if I could create a distraction?" Alexis rolled over, looking up at Bastet's face, creased in thought. "How would you do that?" "Drow men are easily swayed by feelings of power, and it's not often a drow woman will allow a man to have power over her. If I can convince the guards to let me… entertain them, that would give you enough time to get out and let the others out." "But what about weapons?" "Maybe the men have something improvised that can be used while we find our own. We'll need to discuss this with the others. " Bastet yawned. "Either way, it's time for sleep. We're going to be busy tomorrow." With that, she laid down, back to back with Alexis, and fell asleep.

#writing #oc alexis dalliance #fighting fantasy #titan fighting fantasy #seven snippets seven people #tag game #wip excerpt #wandering words #series ADvEoT #wip 'Young Dagger False Dream'

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aquadestinyswriting · 10 months

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Seven Snippets, Seven People

I got tagged for this ages ago by @druidx, and again more recently by @athenswrites. I think I do have seven snippets, so let's get this started. Placing said snippets under a cut to save peoples' dashes. I might have shared a couple of these previously, but I wanted to share them again, just because.

No Pressure tags: @sparrow-orion-writes , @warriorbookworm, @mariahwritesstuff, @ashirisu, @thesorcerersapprentice, @blind-the-winds, @freedominique

The sight of the shining white, if somewhat cracked and charred, marble of Toreguarde seemed like a far distant memory to the majority of the adventuring party who had just landed in front of the city gates.The owl archons that had transported the motley group of humanoids, single dragon and large awakened wolf bowed deeply and flew back up into the swiftly closing portal above.

“Down p’ease.” he stated, already leaning away from his mother in anticipation of his request being granted. Meredith huffed another sigh as she readjusted her grip and hauled the little man back towards her, “Not yet, Gavid.” she said patiently, “It’s busy, and I don’t want ye getting lost before we’ve even got to where we’re staying.” Gavid simply pouted and grumbled some more, crossing his chubby little arms defiantly, “Not get lost.” he muttered, “I a big boy.” Meredith bit back her chuckle and hugged the little boy, "I know ye are Gavid, but folks round here are a lot bigger than back home. I'll let ye down when we get to where we're staying, aye?" All she got in response was a huffy ‘harrumph’ while her son sulked.

Tick, scrape, tick, scrape, tick.... Selene’s brow twitched as she stared at the mechanical monstrosity that was now sitting on the dresser in the master bedroom of the cottage she and Edwin shared. Why, in all the Gods’ names was there a timekeeper in here?! Edwin poked his head around the door from the corridor outside, “Alright, I managed to find Bridget’s boot. It was stuffed under…” he trailed off, brows bunching together as he looked up only to see his partner glaring daggers at the silvered clockwork item. Selene shifted her gaze to the door, her eyes narrowing further upon seeing the perplexed expression under Edwin’s beard, “Edwin, why is this in here?” she asked, gesturing to the timekeeper with a nod of her head, her arms crossed tightly across her chest.

Selene huffed as she looked out of the window at the rain outside. She had rather been hoping it would stop so that Caitr could spend some time outdoors and properly burn off the energy she still had in abundance. The Arcane Librarian was brought out of her thoughts by a muttering voice in her ear, “Stupid godsdamned idiot of a man…” Dwena’s voice grumbled through the Whisper spell. Selene bit back her snort as she replied, “Which one?” she asked, “I mean, I can help you if it’s Thaddeus or Thazaar but not so much if it’s your husband.” The auburn haired wizard could practically see Dwena rolling her eyes, “No, it’s the new divination specialist, he’s pretty full of himself.” came the reply, “In any case, Thazaar’s called an emergency meeting and asked me to get hold of you.”

"So mind telling me why you didn't want to go to Arborea?" Elowyn looked to Meredith, who was leaning back in her seat. The Woodling quickly looked back to the view out of the tavern window, feeling a flush of embarrassment on her ears. Meredith grinned widely, propping her elbows on the table, chin resting on her knuckles, "So, have ye actually been back to see her again yet, or are ye trying to avoid bumping into her again?"Elowyn almost spat out the water she'd just taken a sip of. She quickly swallowed the liquid, somehow managing to avoid choking as she turned to glare at the smirking dwarf, "I'm not -- how did you. --?" She stammered, before flinging a napkin in Meredith's face. Meredith simply laughed, "While I ken that ye're still as embarrassed about the damn 'livin' saint' thing as I am; I do remember being told ye had to visit the place again with the others at one point. All I did was put two an' two together." She pointed out. Elowyn huffed, but couldn't quite manage to stay annoyed at the woman beaming at her from across the table,

“Abouna, you’re staring.” The mild-mannered voice of the Woodling matriarch startling Edwin out of his reverie. He blinked and tore his gaze away from where the Grand Magus had just exited the office and looked down at the greying woman. Oakrose placed the book in her arms on the table and looked over to the door, “I must admit, it’s nice to have Selene come round more often again. Poor love’s not really been over so much since Alexis up and left.” Edwin tried to ignore the guilty pang in his gut at the statement, and instead focused his attention on the parchment in front of him, “She’s probably just making sure I’m settled in alright. I’m amazed she’s found the time, given everything going on.” he replied smoothly. Oakrose shrugged and fluffed up some cushions on the chair next to the fireplace, “If you say so Abouna.” she said, “Now, give us a holler if you need anything. And might I suggest that next time you take to staring at the Grand Magus, you focus your attention a little higher.” she added, smirking to herself and humming as she left. Once the middle-aged Woodling was gone, Edwin let his head fall onto the desk with a hefty ‘thump’, his ears burning and turning an interesting shade of maroon, “Galana preserve.” he groaned, “Do all Woodlings have eyes as sharp as Alexis?” he muttered.

“I’m sorry, but we can only allow those who truly follow the Earth Mother entry, you’ll need to find help elsewhere. Good day.” Morag huffed a distressed sigh and shook her head as the old cleric who’d opened the door of the local temple of Throff went to close it. She jerked her head up as Gruk growled and Hilde made a noise of protest. The smith’s hand shot out and held the door firm, “Ye want proof that we’re not just some filthy Moradhir here to ruin yer day by reminding ye that Kherillim loves all her children, ‘true’ worshippers or no?” he asked. He raised his voice and straightened his back as the cleric glared at him, “I am Gruk, son of Ovak son of Garuld and I claim the heritage of the Stonespeaker clan, the unbroken lineage Blessed by Kherillim Herself. Now let us in before I end up doin’ something we’ll both end up regretting!” Morag blinked. Of course she’d heard that Gruk’s father had been adopted, but to claim the name of an extinct clan? She glanced over to Hilde, who was nodding fervently along with her father’s speech, “An’ if you need some actual, paper proof, here!” she added, pulling a thick roll of parchment from out of her pack and thrusting it into the cleric’s hands. She shrugged as the rest of her family sent her puzzled looks, “What? Auld Derek had it out anyway. I think this is the amended one he’d been working on after Merri handed that old journal to him.” she added. Gruk rolled his eyes at his oldest daughter, returning his attention to the cleric, who’s eyes had widened, “Th- that’s not possible. The Stonespeaker line were all executed by decree of King Jotunn during the last set of Purges.” he stammered. He looked back up at Gruk, most of the colour draining from his face. Gruk snorted, “Then d’ye mind telling Throff that? Because, apparently, She’s seen fit to Mark ma youngest daughter and I’m no’ exactly happy about that either.”

#writeblr tag games #seven snippets seven people #writeblr community #titan fighting fantasy

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ceph-the-ghost-writer · 1 year

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Seven Snippets, Seven People

Tagged by @calicoy

How-to: Post seven Snippets, from different stories or the same, it's up to you. Tag seven people to play next.

Tagging @likegemstone @thatndginger @tabswrites @authoralexharvey @blind-the-winds @runner-owen @duckingwriting

Writing under the cut (warnings for some blood/gore in the final snippet)

From that new Apophenia beginning:

Taking an assignment along the Broken Coast always got a reaction. Everyone from the archivist gathering relevant case materials to people not even in Isaac’s department eagerly volunteered a list of their deepest fears whenever they heard where he was going. Storms out that way were ten times as crazy—tornadoes, hurricanes, flash floods that could sweep away anything or anyone in their path. Then all the earthquakes left over from the break to boot? The drive from Chicago was brutal, at least twenty-six hours, assuming the highways were in decent repair and smugglers hadn’t set up roadblocks to ambush travelers. No civic guards in the territories made it a wonderland for criminals plying their dark trades, from thieves to serial killers. Any decent people that far outside a reliable grid scratched out an existence through hunting and gathering, their tech and habits straight out of the paleolithic. The coast was as far from civilization as anybody could get without joining half of California under the ocean.

Which was why Isaac had let out a sigh of relief when Director Khang told him this job was strictly classified. Not a word breathed to archives or his colleagues. Nevermind he’d been sent on the Coven equivalent of a wild goose chase. He got paid per diem anyway.

@dysthanasia-series or AO3 for updates

From some random later scene in Fair Trade:

The temple entrance had been carved out under a set of splayed finger bones. Or Celina took the twisted spires jutting from the crater wall to be fingers anyway. She counted seven aside from a thumb. All of them tipped with scythe-shaped talons that could have cut open a train boxcar like a tin can. She caught herself reaching out as she and Vess passed under. Whatever smoky, translucent black stuff made up the skeleton of the creature entombed within the stone had a curiously glossy texture. Something along the lines of fingernails or chitin. They produced a very unbone-like tink tink tink when tapped.

“What is this thing?” she asked, not really expecting an answer.

Yet Vess paused, offering a shrug as it glanced over its shoulder. “A god. Dead one.”

Celina pulled her hand away and frowned down at her palm. No glitter or glow. Not even a residual tingle. Whatever deities were made of wasn’t all that special apparently. “What can kill a god?”

“Being a fool. The right weapon and timing. Crashing through the vaults of the heavens and landing face-first in the dirt. Same things as the rest of us. Now, are you done gawking?”

From The Primrose Path:

Despite the lack of any other living soul, the grassy area above hadn’t grown wild. A slim path of white bricks, swept clean and only slightly mossy, snaked its way further in. Belly full of dread but heart driven by determination, Ân followed it to a small, crumbling stone temple. A storm or maybe just age had sent a large tree branch crashing into the roof, caving half of it in. Vines dripping with bell-shaped white flowers were busy pulling down the walls. The anxiety that had been poisoning him for weeks drained from Ân. This? This collapsing hovel was the symbol of Shadyrus’s glory? He could demolish what remained with a few good kicks.

“Welcome, illuminator. We’ve been expecting you.”

Ân tensed at the crackling rasp in the otherwise mild voice. One that spoke Heaven’s Speech just as naturally as he did. He directed a glare at the figure in white robes he caught leaning against the wall by the arched (and doorless) entryway. This revenant had once been a man old enough to be a grandfather. Its jaw and cheeks were coated in a close-cropped gray and white beard. A crown woven from the wall’s small flowers sat atop its soft cloud of similarly pale hair. Despite the creases in its skin, the creature’s back and shoulders remained straight and strong, letting it tower over Ân.

“I take it your god is somewhere in this heap then?” he said, refusing to be intimidated.

With its lids half-closed over eyes gone the same blue as the sky, the revenant took on a dreamy look when it smiled. “Shadyrus is waiting for you below, yes.”

His heart gave a nasty lurch. “Below?”

“Take the winding stairs behind the altar. They go down into the vaults.”

@the-primrose-path-story or AO3 for updates

From a prompt that I'm turning into a possible future Dysthanasia scene:

Renato turned his head and leaned in a fraction as if straining to hear better. “I’m sorry. I thought you said you wanted me to—”

“Hypnotize me. Dorian says it’s possible to learn how to break out of bloodborn trances with practice. So…help me train.” However, Isaac kept his gaze—usually so direct, so sharp—trained on the far corner of the bedroom. One arm crossed over his middle, gripping the opposite as he shifted from foot to foot.

While his body certainly knew what it wanted, Renato’s mind (namely the conscience section) hesitated. “What prompted this?”

“Aside from the entire Unseen Hand wanting us dead now, you mean?”

“Ceph isn’t trying to kill us.” Not that they were going out of their ghostly way to help either.

It might’ve been hunger tinting Renato’s perception, but a warmer, rosy undertone crept into Isaac’s skin. “According to Kinslayer, I’ve got a bad habit of looking into vampires’ eyes."

From Whumptober 2022 Day 2:

Silver doesn’t burn. That’s the thing people always get wrong. They think it’s like sunlight is to bloodborn. It’s more complicated than that, however. Tilda might even say worse, but then she’s never been set on fire for comparison. Not yet. Her naked skin is mottled with bruises and crusted with old blood, the silver chains crisscrossing her chest and shackled to her limbs and neck heavy, cold. Her shoulder and hip ache from lying on the concrete floor of the cage. The cellar stews in the smells of spoiled meat, sour sweat, and animal piss. But her prison is also dark, quiet, cut off from the ersatz life of the Mayer household above. Tilda’s eyelids droop, her mind finally going fuzzy around the edges after hours, or maybe days—time doesn’t exist down here—without sleep.

Naturally, that’s when the lights snap on. The precise click click click of her mother’s heels on the stairs has every muscle in Tilda’s body ratcheting tighter, until she’s shaking. Inside her, the wolf raises its own hackles. Fur, wet and matted by her blood, rubs against the underside of her prickling skin, pushes against it. Phantom teeth nip at her pounding heart in frustration. Invisible claws scrabble against the bars of her ribcage before she can assert control. A growl vibrates up from her chest and rumbles out of her own throat when the wolf meets the barrier of silver, unable to tear its way out of her.

The rest of the scene is here.

From "Covenant", a short story for Halloween:

On they traveled until concrete and rows of houses gave way to grass and towering trees. A park, humans called it. The last remnant of land before it had been parceled into farm fields and tamed enough for the town to take root was what it was. Here it remained at the heart of civilization, the shadows of evening creeping across it like spilled ink as they had for millennia.

And, as they had for the past fraction of that, cats met beneath the tangled boughs for All Hallows’ Night.

White, silk-furred heirs of Persia sauntered in with sleek Siamese and temple-bred Maus. Rangy strays padded alongside fat housecats and barnyard mousers. Calicos, tabbies, maltese, pointed—all came to honor the pact they and their ancestors before them had made. They streamed in to where the ancient trees grew thickest. Where the chill had little to do with autumn and the barren branches overhead crisscrossed like a jumble of old bones. No birds flitted or called their goodnights there. The usual tiny creatures that skittered through the leaf litter hadn’t reported in for their graveyard shift. A dank, primeval smell gave the air a weight it didn’t have elsewhere.

Fur bristled along the backs of the younger cats as they passed under the cobweb-like shadows. Their elders led by example, pressing on into ever deepening gloom. Finally, they saw it. At the dark heart of the old grove the ground gradually swelled up under their paws, rising into a large mound. Shaggy tufts of gray-green grass covered it like a mangy pelt. Fissures scarred the damp earth.

Three silent figures waited for them.

The whole story is on AO3.

From Ch. 19 of Phagophobia:

Dimas had the enforcer pinned to the dirt, jaws clamped on eir shoulder. There was no romance to the scene. No seduction or grace. He snarled and shook his head like a (pale wolf on two legs) dog mauling (his tía) a shrieking rabbit. Quinn’s clawing and thrashing just tore eir wounds wider, deeper. Blood bubbled around Dimas’s lips, splattering his cheeks. Teeth still clenched, he jerked away, ripping fabric and flesh to ribbons. He darted back down to seal his mouth over the hemorrhaging fountain he’d created. Quinn’s sounds ebbed into more sob than scream.

He had Zamora’s pistol this time instead of his dad’s rifle, but Isaac figured it would do him the same amount of good. Thought faded away after that. He pounced on Dimas from behind. One arm wrapped around his waist for stability. His free hand darted to the bloodborn’s face. Fingers delved against hot gore. Wormed their way under snarling lips, aided by the life spilling out of Quinn. Sharp teeth split his skin, but Isaac tugged. Gentle but insistent.

Dimas vibrated with a warning growl.

Another tug. “Don’t,” Isaac whispered against the back of his neck. “Please. Don’t do it. You don’t have to. Please, please, please.”

Coming soon to AO3, patrons, and @dysthanasia-series

#dysthanasia #writeblr #writeblr tag games #seven snippets seven people

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lady-grace-pens · 11 months

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Seven Snippets, Seven People

Tagged by @isabellebissonrouthier !! Thank you bestie <33

All of these are from my current wip FOD, narrated in Emily’s pov.

Tagging for funsies: @owilder @wildswrites @sparrow-orion-writes @macabremoons @wordwizards @pen-of-roses @alinacapellabooks and anyone else who sees this!!

•••

“And what about this?”

My tongue slips onto the open air. In the center of it rests a short gold barbell piercing with a top fashioned to resemble a rose. Without pause, his attention is stolen from my scars. Alarm fades into contemplative interest. He cups my head in his hands, posing me this way and that to savor all angles possible.

“You like?” I tease once he lets go. “It came free with the trauma.”

•••

Before I can think to stand, Cal chains herself to my wrist. The weight of her grip speaks miles for the heat of her gaze. But if I know anything about my sister, it’s that she never holds her anger for very long. It doesn’t quite fit in her hands.

Her voice is lower than a whisper. “You look…”

“Like hell,” Ilya finishes.

“Thank you.” I take out a cigarette from my back pocket. “Anyone got a light?”

•••

Some feet away and still in his chair, Pierre’s head is cradled between his arms. His notebook is open underneath, and his laptop has gone black.

“You’ve been mighty quiet over there, jester.”

He only sighs.

•••

I don’t have to do this. I don’t have to.

I bite my tongue at the sobs surging up my throat. This mask weighs heavy on my face. Tears and feathers make a mess of my vision. I glare through it all, jaded queen on her fucking throne, and face the man sitting next to Pierre.

He wears no costume. No mask. Only a gothic suit with a red carnation pinned to his lapel. His features are a blur as he turns to the other woman attached to his hip. She pokes his chest. He lends her his ear. She wants far more, stealing a kiss from his cheek. My heart falls silent.

She averts her gaze. He catches her chin. Eye contact. Eye contact.

Eyes.

•••

Ilya’s eyes haven’t left me all night. Every breath, every act is tied to his red eyes peering at me through the guise of his cards. I shut my eyes and he’s there across the table, domineering silhouette streaked by a neon sign to his back while the ongoing storm rattles the windowpanes.

Whiskey cries where I left it and hour ago: scantily held and straight from the bottle. I toss what remains over my shoulder with a sigh.

•••

Suppress something long enough and it becomes a religion.

“The act or the suppressant?” Arthur asks in my mind.

I can’t answer.

•••

“Finally got tired of wearing that mask haven’t you?”

My head snaps to the direction of the entrance. Upon seeing who it is, my face falls flat.

“I was wondering when it would slip,” he finishes when there’s only a foot separating us.

I spare him a glance. “What mask?”

He huffs in his side-mouthed grin. Shoving his hands into his coat pockets, he joins me in leaning against the wall.

“You know, little miss angel face. All bloody lips and kerosene doused in cherry and vanilla perfume. That whole getup. I was wonderin’ when you’d get tired.”

#wip: foad #wip: follies #my writing #seven snippets seven people #writing tag game #writing snippet #writblr #writeblr #my wip

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dogmomwrites · 9 months

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Seven Snippets

This tag came from @traveler-of-realms, so thanks for including me in this game!

Gonna pass it on with soft tags to @papercutsunset, @crypticcodexcreations, @andromedaexists, @oh-no-another-idea, @pandawriterstuff, @krokuswrites, and @briannaswords, as well as leaving an open tag. Rules—share seven snippets from your WIP/s and tag seven people

One Riley risked a glance under the truck to see that the men had split up. He could see three pair of boots moving into the street to circle around the truck while the other man kept Riley pinned down with constant gunfire. Not a good position to be trapped in. At least, not normally.

Dropping his backpack, he quickly reached inside and pulled out a small oval of dark green metal. The last one he had. He pulled the pin out, waited a second, and rolled it underneath the truck.

“Is that a fucking grenade?” one of the men asked just before it went off.

Two Maybe...maybe he shouldn’t have let the men kidnap him.

Aaron sighed, the sound lost to the helicopter’s windstorm. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Three “I don’t think we need to sit around for three days,” Riley had said. As much as Jimmy hated it—as much as he hated agreeing with anything Riley said—he couldn’t find anything to say as refute. One stretch of road work had somehow brought them to Oregon far ahead of their time schedule, and while Jimmy had been grateful they were saved more hours in the car, he began to wonder if sitting still for many hours and contending with Avalanche’s unending energy was preferable to admitting that Riley had a point.

It wasn’t that Riley was unintelligent. He was just very annoying. And any time Jimmy was forced to side with him never went unnoticed.

Four Aaron had no idea how to respond to their story. They didn’t appear concerned by that, however, and he let them move on to a new topic as though the previous one hadn’t been a roller coaster in its own right. Meeting his mother’s eyes, he silently asked, I’m not the only one with vertigo, am I?

She hid her laugh well, and the brothers didn’t notice. No, you’re not. I honestly don’t know what else to expect from them at this point.

Five “Awoo?” Avalanche asked, and Jimmy froze midway onto the chair.

“No, I wasn’t watching a...dirty video? Who told you I was watching porn?”

“Rawr-y.”

“Fuck you, Riley!”

Six She threw herself from the steps into Aaron’s arms, her trust in him perhaps stronger than he was; if Riley hadn’t been there to steady him, they would’ve hit the ground with maybe enough force to lower Aaron’s mood.

“Awoo!” she cheered him.

Aaron grunted as he struggled to maintain his grip while shifting it to something more manageable. “Hey, sweetheart,” he said.

She chattered rapidly at him.

“Yeah, of course. You can have all the pinecones you want.”

“Awoo awoo awoooo!”

Laughing, he turned to Riley for some help and together, they lowered her to the ground. She gave them no assistance, and made no effort to get up, instead choosing to roll onto her back and wriggle her joy at all the pinecones she was going to make Jimmy bring home for her.

Seven But then Jimmy had come back in, sleeplessness wearing away at his emotions. Turning his anger into sorrow. Bringing him back to apologize, to break down, to remind Riley that there was nothing he could do to help. And on a horrible level, Riley had resented him for it. Even as he’d held him, even as he’d gone downstairs with him, even as he’d stroked his hair until the medication finally put him to sleep, it had been there. Burning in his chest like an ember he couldn’t put out.

Because holding onto his anger gave more comfort than holding onto a stuffed leopard.

#seven snippets #seven snippets seven people #seven snippets tag #tag game #tag games #writer games #original fiction #original characters #my writing #yavs writing #unnamed wip #avalanche archives

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writernopal · 1 year

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7 Snippets 7 People

Tagged by @talesofsorrowandofruin and @mariahwritesstuff, thank you both! See their posts here and here, respectively.

Tagging (gently): @captain-kraken @tabswrites @sarahlizziewrites @outpost51 @dragonedged-if @thewardenofwinter @thelivingdeceased and anyone else who'd like to do this!

One (Axtapor's POV)

Perhaps many would be intimidated by the sight of Lord Rojundrog, Seer of Clan Oxlo, laying eyes on them like this, but to me, he was just a crooked old man with a talent for making himself bigger than he ought to be. He was born from my grandmother’s first clutch and had unusual crimson scales, or rather, unusual for Clan Oxlo. While we lizards came in a variety of colors, certain clans tended to favor certain shades. Ours were hues of blue, black, gray, and purple with the exceedingly rare orchid pink that appeared once every few generations, so his crimson was, at the very least, curious.

Two (Axtapor's POV)

“That is why the start of each social season begins with a reading of rites. A stupid commemoration of those ineffectual ones who fail to consummate their union in that place, the way true Dreamers should, and instead end up with their brains splattered all over their marriage bed. However, it is a rather effective culling tool to eliminate those who should not be trusted with our power or with the duty of representing our House.”

Three (Axtapor's POV)

“I could bore you with the details, but I doubt you are all that interested when it comes to ladies’ fashion, so I will spare you.” She responded, folding her hands neatly in her lap. “I be plenty interested in lady clothes when it be on the ground...” I remarked under my breath. Egra and Ulsei both eagerly slapped my head, while Idhi and my grandmother shared similar looks of dissatisfaction. I frowned as I rubbed the warm spot of impact and turned my focus back on Lord Haphrex. “How will ye be gettin’ to the Hefredies?” “I’m afraid that is where we will have to impose on your expertise at sea, my lord.” He said, “Fisla has told me about how talented you are at sailing.” “Has she? Ye’s be right familiar usin’ given names...” I muttered. Egra kicked me and shot me a frown. I growled at her. “Ye wee bitch.” “Grandmama!” She whined. “Settle down.” My grandmother admonished us both with a frown.

Four (Axtapor's POV)

“Well, now that we are on the subject of my beau.” She teased, “What is your opinion of him?” I sighed, not really wanting to provide her with my thoughts about him. I didn't dislike him, but it was still odd for me to see them so close to each other all the time. My grandfather had never been tender with my grandmother the way that Lord Haphrex was. The most I’d ever seen my grandfather do was kiss her hand, and that was only because we’d been at a social event where he was obligated to do so. I supposed Lord Haphrex’s intimacy with her was strange because I wasn’t yet accustomed to seeing someone be so openly affectionate towards her in a romantic way. There was something sad about that.

Five (Axtapor's POV)

“Then, if you can’t say, please, look out for yourself. You know that I care for you very much. But how you worry me, you troublesome boy—!” She let out a strained laugh in a poor attempt to hide the glittering of tears in her eyes. I squared my jaw and did my best to hold her gaze, but it was hard to when she cried. “What be ye on about? I be a man grown now, proper as so, nay a boy.” I teased her weakly. She let out another laugh, and this time her tears fell. “Oh no, you will always be a boy to me, hatchling. That same little boy who loved eating sweets from all the town stalls. When was the last time I treated you to something like that, hmm?” I laughed softly this time and pulled her into an embrace. “Right, long while.”

Six (Fay's POV)

Their coin was clean, and if the knights were pleased with that merchant’s quality of goods, they would certainly return with their business and that of other knights. And knights were easy to swindle. They paraded around in their fancy armors and capes, blithely unaware of how absurd they looked, dragging their velvets through piles of shit and stepping in vomit with their ignorant boots. They didn’t care for their belongings; that much was clear, so for a greedy merchant, they were endless fonts of gold.

Seven (Axtapor's POV)

“Lord Haphrex.” I greeted him with a small dip of the head. “Lord Axtapor.” He responded with a similar gesture. “Tendin’ to business?” I asked as I saw him fold what looked like a bill of sale into his pocket. “One could say so.” He said, gesturing that I follow him with something of a busy look on his face. I didn’t really want to have an extended chat with him, but I followed along anyway. “Fisla is saddened that you will be leaving us so soon, my lord.” He voiced as we took a leisurely pace toward one end of the harbor. It still irked me that he used her name so casually, but there was no real reason why he shouldn’t be able to, given their involvement. “Aye. I know.” “I do not like seeing her distressed, my lord.” He shot me a sidelong look this time. “That be...good.” I replied somewhat awkwardly. What was he getting at? And what was that look from before? I hardly knew him well enough to be able to guess. He halted his advance and turned to face me. “So your mind is made up? You will not stay?” I sighed. “Did she put ye up to this?” “A man never reveals what a woman says to him in confidence, my lord.” He said with a slight frown. I pushed the leaves to the other side of my mouth impatiently. “I nay have time to be waggin’ tongues as so, my lord. What be it that ye want?”

#tag game #seven snippets seven people #writeblr tag games #aasoaf #aasoaf 2 #axtapor #lady fisla #lord haphrex #egra #ulsei #idhi #seer rojundrog #i should just rename aasoaf 2 to axtapor hates grandmas new bf #need to spray him with a water bottle lol #my writing

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primroseprime2019 · 2 years

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7 Snippets 7 People Tag

Thanks for the invite, @talesofsorrowandofruin

I’ll be doing this from The Ghost’s Curse

Paige ran through the woods. “There she is!” A voice yelled as a small crowd of wolves chased after her. She was quick to evade the nets and ropes. She skidded to a halt when another Transcendant leapt at her with a battle cry. She quickly jumped past them, sliding across the ground which quickly led to her tumbling down the hill.

Shiloh stared at the ceiling, his eyes narrowed and his teeth clenched so hard his jaw was beginning to hurt. He hated this room. He sat up with a growl as he glared at the door when it opened with a creak. Phantom stood in the doorway, frowning. “What do you want?” Shiloh hissed, eyes narrowing.

“It’s not your call to make either, Tennille!” Owen snarled, “I’m taking that map whether you like it or not!” He grabbed the silver scroll and Bella have a low growl. “Either way, we have a dangerous person here-,” Benedict muttered. “No we don’t,” Malachi piped up, making his brother look at him. “I thought you agreed with me,” he said, confused. “He means they’re getting away!” Howard snapped and the Paladins and Guardians whirled around to see Lennox and his brothers leaping out the window with Ruben giving them a mocking salute before chasing after his brothers.

“Isn’t it weird that you have very little faith in yourself but you can go out and save worlds?” Miguel asked as he leaned against the railing. Paige frowned at him, “and what makes you so sure that you won’t kill me now?” He looked at her and seemed to study her for a few moments. “You’re valuable,” he said, “I can’t kill you. Even if I wanted to.” She frowned at him.

“Irilia Transcendants are the only ones who can actually transform into giant, rampaging monsters,” Freya huffed as she and Emiko stood on either side of the cell. Eric’s cell, to be exact. “How can you do it?” She asked. He frowned and looked at his hands. “I don’t know,” he muttered.

There was absolute panic when the news of Ellen’s arrival was announced. It wasn’t until someone yelled, “SILENCE!” and that shut everyone up. They looked at Omari who was stern if not a little annoyed. “We cannot panic like this now calm down,” he huffed. “But it’s Ellen,” Bruce squeaked nervously, fidgeting, “one of Morningstar’s creations.” “She is nothing like him nor is she like Miguel,” Omari said firmly, “you would be wise to remember that, Bruce.” Russell looked at him and noticed how irritated he looked for the first time. It was surprising.

Shiloh stood in the middle of the throne room, staring at the throne with a look of contempt. The room was alight in red and gold. The wallpaper was black and red. There were tables and tables filled with foods. It was almost like Shiloh’s arrival was expected. He fidgeted uneasily and turned to see his father, Brandon Sr., walking over. He donned red and black royal attire and a darker blood red cape.

Tagging: @orphicpoieses @penspiration-writing @writing-and-trying @movieexpert1978 @frogqueenofmirkwood @wolven-writer and @kaiusvnoir

#tag game #seven snippets seven people tag #WIP: The Ghost’s Curse #transcendants

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indecentpause · 1 year

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7 Snippets, 7 People

tagged by @thegreatobsesso to share seven lines and tag seven others to do the same! these are from The Black & Blues

cw: suggestive (in snippet seven)

One:

And when you both wake up in your dorm on the first day of classes, you and Danny hug each other tight, because it’s going to be hard, and it’s going to cost a lot, and you’ll have to live cheap for a long time, but you did it. You got out, and now you can start the rest of your lives.

Two:

The place Austin and Kris take you and Danny is part club and part dive bar. The air is thick with smoke. They bring along a woman, too, a tiny blonde barely taller than Kris, named Sara. They look completely different than they did the day you met them, all ripped jeans and combat boots and patched up t-shirts, and you realize it’s because they were wearing the equivalent of pajamas; oversized band shirts and sweatpants. Sara has a bright blue streak in her blonde hair, and it matches her eyes. When she thinks you’re not looking she holds Austin’s and Kris’s hands. When Austin and Kris think you’re not looking, they hold each other’s. You don’t get it, but they do it in front of each other, so everyone must be okay with it, and it’s not really your business.

Three:

You have work to do. Essays to write and books to read and math to solve. But your guitar, on its stand by your bed, is calling out to you, and, you know what, just taking a thirty minute break to play should be fine. You haven’t had much of a chance since you got here. The way the strings vibrate under your fingers always relaxes you, even when you’re playing the loudest, most upbeat music. You’ve never written a song before, but you should try, especially if you actually want to get this band thing off the ground. So you pull out a notebook of blank sheet music and start picking and strumming and scribbling things down. It takes an hour and a half, and it’s not much. It’s not a full song by a long shot. It has no lyrics, it has no other accompaniments. No drumbeat or bassline. But you made it, and it’s yours, and even though it kind of sucks, it’s the proudest moment of your life.

Four:

You don’t expect to hear anything for a week or two, but the day after you’ve taped [the flyers] up, Josephine finds a moment to extricate herself from her counter and approaches you both, waving the flyer in the air. “Was this you two?” she asks. At the bottom it says to call Danny Yazdi’s or Meara Ryanne’s number, so you can’t really lie about it if she’s mad. “Are we not allowed to put up flyers in the cafeteria?” Danny asks. “What? No, that’s fine, I was just wondering, are you looking for trumpet players? My… um, my boyfriend and I both play.” “Yeah!” You perk up now that you know you’re not going to get yelled at. “Definitely, we need brass the most! Give one of us a call and we’lll set something up on the weekend.”

Five:

You’ve been watching him sleep on and off since the first incident with your mom. He’s so confident. He’s so sure of himself. He’s funny and flirty and gorgeous. He could have anyone he wanted. So of course he wouldn’t want you. You bury your face in the pillow and groan softly in frustration. Kris said you should shoot your shot. But if Danny felt that way about you, he’d have said so. He has hang ups about dating, too, but not as bad as you, and he knows he can trust you not to laugh at him. What if he’s thinking the same thing about you? “Oh god,” you mumble into your pillow. You smush your face into it a little harder and are about to scream when you hear the rustle of Danny’s sheets. You peek back over your pillow to see him shifting around. The sheet he uses as a blanket has fallen around his hips. At least he’s wearing a shirt this time. He doesn’t always. It drives you insane.

Six:

“So, we invite them on?” you ask, just to be sure everyone’s on the same page. Everyone looks around at each other again. Everyone nods. Danny claps his hands together and you jump at the echoing sound. “All right then. Shall we?” He opens the door for the rest of you and you all crowd back inside. Josephine and Morgan are sitting on the edge of the stage, feet crossed on the ground below them, talking quietly and anxiously. When you enter, they both perk up, and Morgan asks, “Well?” You grin. “Welcome aboard,” you say. Josephine’s eyes go wide, like she’s surprised. Like she expected only Morgan to get an offer. “Both of us?” “Both of you.” They both grin and share a high-five and a hug, and when they pull away from each other, they turn back to you so Morgan can ask, “So, when do we all start?”

Seven:

You wipe at your forehead with the back of your hand. Danny hands you a gray handkerchief. You don’t think much about it until you’ve cleaned the sweat off your face and he sticks it in his back pocket with another one, gray and black striped. You finally realize he’s been flagging this whole time. Not for you guys here in the music room, of course. But around campus, maybe. He’s looking for someone to be with. And that someone isn’t you. You swallow hard and force your tears back, force the knot in your throat to come undone. “Just be safe,” you finally say. Danny turns to you and asks, “What?” “I see what you’re doing,” you say. It’s not accusatory. It’s just a statement of fact. “Just be careful. I don’t want you to get hurt.” Danny’s whole face softens and he runs his hand through your hair, ruffling up the curls. “Thanks, Meara,” he says softly. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

tagging @lynnedwardswrites @winterandwords @vcaudley @drippingmoon @oh-no-another-idea @enchanted-lightning-aes and @abalonetea to share seven snippets from a project or projects! (if you don't want to that's fine too)

#writeblr #my writing #writeblr tag games #seven snippets seven people #excerpt #wip #the black and blues #sheraton academy au #meara ryanne #danny yazdi #sara quill #austin foster #kris rathmore #josephine gupta #morgan acosta benitez

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