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throughtrialbyfire · 6 months

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𝑾𝑰𝑷 𝑾𝒆𝒅𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒅𝒂𝒚 ♥

i hope everyone's doing well and taking care right now!! we're coming into the colder months in the northern hemisphere, and i'm always amazed how fast the sun begins to set around this time!

tagged by the amazingly talented @thequeenofthewinter and @mareenavee !! thank you so much <3333

tagging the incredible @dirty-bosmer @skyrim-forever @gilgamish @aphocryphas @totally-not-deacon @orfeoarte @viss-and-pinegar @thana-topsy @caliblorn @boethiahspillowbook @umbracirrus @v1ctory-or-sovngarde @wildhexe and you!!!! even if your name isnt here, you're always welcome to join in and tag me!!

i've got two story snippets this week! i'm starting on a new fic, but it's going to be slow goings. the working title is "Bone of my Bone", and it's the backstory fic for Wyndrelis of my Dragonborn Trio that i've been talking about! it's going to be a good while before i can post it in full since it contains spoilers for the main fic, but i love working on this and writing in his POV!

Another gods damned rejection. Wyndrelis paced the cramped room of the inn he'd rented, a temporary residence until he'd finished his application with the Synod. Of course, this proved in vain. He bitterly crumpled the parchment between his grey hands, balling it tight until his fingers ached. The Dunmer paused and loosened his grasp slowly, fingers uncurling until the ball landed on his desk in a sorry, compressed state. It curled up next to all the other rejection letters. Quick, biting, quill-strikes. Names of professors he'd never meet. Every Synod Conclave from here to Anvil undoubtedly heard the news, and every single one of them rejected him since that night. He heaved a breath, his cheeks hot with the frustration of the scenario he'd landed himself in. He was far from home, with no longing to go back, and all his bets misplaced in scholars and wizards who would have nothing to do with him. There were other ways, of course, other people, other groups. This did little to ease his vexation.

'Mr. Wyndrelis Femer, We at the Leyawiin Synod Conclave hope that this letter finds you well,' The pleasantries had ended there. Then began the statements of fact, the obvious ban on Conjuration, the musings of how it led to Necromancy, a reference here and there of the end of the Third Era. He rubbed at his temples in small, soothing motions to stave off a headache. He plopped down into a creaking wooden chair. He rushed his hands through his raven-dark hair, his posture slumped, his body thundering with his pulse so deeply it made his temple throb, his hands shake. Anger, no. This was not anger. Frustration, perhaps, or even guilt. Guilt. A sword he swallowed whole. Ever since he was a mere boy, the Hermoric clasping for knowledge pitted his stomach, burning up until he could deny it no longer. He'd devoured every book he could get his hands on that contained any fragmentary notion of the things he sought, and when his family was not around, he'd raise his palm and work the magicka into his fingertips and he'd weave it slow, in, out, like water through a sloshing pitcher. Waves of it, smooth as silk, heavy as lead. He'd learn how to move objects in their home. He'd know how to ignite a tiny spark on his fingertips, and eventually, how to dance it between the tips of several digits without letting it falter. His parents had always despised his knack for the arcane. The curse on their name had been enough to cause his ancestors to scorn the practice, leaving Morrowind generations ago and fumbling their way into a small, mountain town in County Cheydinhal. His home would be a memory he spat out. He was no longer welcome there. He did not want to return.

the next snippet is something i typed up in comic sans to break my brain out of a cage! it's chapter 27 of "Cycle of the Serpent", on the road to Mount Kilkreath to return Meridias Beacon, although they don't really know that's what they're doing. teehee >:3c

Fateless stars align, moons rise and fall, and all Athenath wanted was to be at the Bards College right now. That's what they had come here for, that hallowed institute of the arts, the halls which they'd heard whispers were paved with plaque-decorated displays of instruments from famous bards long passed, the stone paths that wound their ways through the high-rising establishment. From the moment that he'd gotten his wits about them after the first night in Solitude, he'd stretched longing looks in the direction of the building, knowing from the groups shared map what streets of Solitude lead where, and how deeply they wished to just march up the steps themself and ask about applications. The beacon radiated a warmth every time he touched it, like the sun off a rock, or the body heat of a small animal. It alarmed him to some degree, the strangeness of the feeling, but they embraced it. The journey to Mount Kilkreath gave them plenty of time to practice their talents, and practice he did, tossing the beacon to Wyndrelis haphazardly and bouncing from heel to heel, capering down the mountain paths and through the trees with songs bubbling from his lips. Sometimes, they'd trail off, coming to a silent standstill as the words escaped him, before shrugging and pulling back into another song.

[….]

"Oh, there once was a hero named Ragnar the Red…" Athenath sang in a sprightly tone, Emeros' eyes avoiding either companion, something the Altmer had noticed. From the moment the trio had decided to set up camp until now, he could feel Emeros' personal twistings of mental acrobatics, but exactly on what, he didn't know. All they knew was that the sun shone bright off the sea, glittering like beetle wings off an aristocratic Bosmeri gown, in its soft and elegant light. He longed to dive into the sea, deeper and deeper, gather shells in their arms and sort them at the beach, turn them over and over for signs of life, for molluscs and crabs, the kind of games he played on the rare visit to the Anvil beach with his family and their old friends, scent of salty, wet fur a brow-furrowing comfort for the Altmer. They could practically hear their old friends calling him down from the mountain, humming and hawing and beckoning the bard down to the shoreline. A hand on his shoulder planted them firmly in the grounds of reality, and Athenath slowed their stride, spinning to face Wyndrelis. "Yeah! What's up?" Wyndrelis pointed down the road. "We're nearing Mount Kilkreath. Do you want the beacon?" He asked in his usual, cold voice. Athenath nodded rapidly, taking the object into their arms. "Isn't it kinda weird how warm it is?" Athenath asked with a smile spread along his carmine mouth. Wyndrelis furrowed his brow. "Warm?" He repeated. Athenath looked to him, confusion dimming the brightness of their eyes.

if you read until the end of this i wanted to give you a special thanks <3 i hope you're doing well, and i'm casting spell of WIP Motivation be upon ye!!

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rainpebble3 · 6 months

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WIP Whenever

Work in Progress, Wine in Pintglass? either or...

Anyhoo, I was tagged by the amazing @paraparadigm @thequeenofthewinter @dirty-bosmer @mareenavee and @kookaburra1701

I don't know who else to tag since most of us would tag the same people, so if you, yes YOU, see this and want to share a snip you are proud of, please do!

This is chapter 14 of my fic Layers of Snow and Ash.

Technically the chapter is finished, it just needs tidied but I can still share snippets!

Chapter 14: Lectures and Fire Salted Wine (title may change!)

Embarrassingly, she jumped when someone sat next to them, the room was filling up even more for the conjuration lecture. A group of three Dunmer smiled at them. The familiar skin colour and pointed ears eased her worries, but a new anxiety was born as they began to make small talk.

“El's juli taljed lah dunmer iru!” one of them exclaimed while smiling between Brelyna and Nera. She brushed her red hair aside and grinned expectantly.

Nera had no idea what she said but assumed it was a friendly greeting. Brelyna leaned over Nera and offered a hand. She smiled politely.

“It’s good to see some Dunmer here too, as much as I would love to converse in our tongue, it may lead to some potential issues with the others. You know how paranoid people can be.”

The Dunmer laughed. “Of course. My name’s Rayya. So where have you come from?”

“We’re Brelyna and Nera. We came from Port Telvannis, east of Vvardenfell. You?” Brelyna spoke calmly while Nera clenched her fists around her robes.

“Oh wow!” the Dunmer gasped, seeming impressed. “Well I came with my brother, Endsi, from Raven Rock, and Sulera came from Leyawiin.”

Brelyna smiled at them politely. “It’s a pleasure.”

“So,” Rayya continued after sneaking a glance at the next lecturer who was speaking softly to Master Tolfdir, “You came from Morrowind? Did you walk?”

Shaking her head, Brelyna flipped to a new page while Nera swallowed. “We came by boat.”

Rayya made a soft noise, “So you’ll have come through Windhelm then?”

Nera answered this time, despite her trembling hands rustling the paper. “Why do you ask?”

Scoffing Rayya shared a look with her brother. He spoke next while the one they called Sulera watched with curiosity.

“Well, have you seen the place? It’s disgusting… the way our kind are just…”

Nera nodded, cutting him off. “The Nords are particularly brutal there.”

Endsi laughed harshly. “Not them, our kind. Those Dunmer, they’re a disgrace! How dare they meekly just take that… honestly.”

With each word, Nera felt the ground crack underneath her. Her face flamed and her mind raced with a thousand possible replies. Brelyna’s leg tapped hers as subtly as possible and in the time it took for Nera to find an answer, the next lecturer called their attention.

“Thank you for your patience and curiosity. My name is Phinis Gestor, this college’s Master of Conjuration. I am aware that there are several different levels of mages among us, so I shall do my best to be succinct…”

The rest of his lecture was lost to the crashing in Nera’s ears. Her quill remained motionless on the paper while Brelyna was more engaged with this lecture than she had been with any of the others. Nera couldn’t pull herself out of her head enough to listen to him. The gnawing guilt which had persisted all day, tripled in its intensity, tearing holes in her gut and heart. Her parents’ faces danced across the parchment, the last expressions they had worn were of pained betrayal, closely matched by Nera’s but in that moment, their hurt was more justified than ever before. She had wanted to sharply rebuke the other Dunmer, to try and force them to see her side of things. That Windhelm was harder to escape than quicksand. Once a Dunmer got there, they’d be trapped by the appalling wages and mounting fear of Nords. However, by doing so, she’d out herself as a fraud. She sighed and looked away, staring out the window. Snowflakes fizzed past, moving faster than she had ever seen before. The winds were stronger here…

Also screens will probably suck because I am far too lazy to figure out how to add the 40ish extra characters to my game :D so just moody Nera screens to come!

#skyrim #skyrim fanfiction #the elder scrolls v: skyrim #modded skyrim #wip wednesday #writing #elder scrolls #tes #i should be writing #tesblr #thanks for the tag friend <3

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westywrites · 2 years

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WIP Challenge

Thanks so much @tc-doherty for the tag!

𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 : post the names of all the files in your wip folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous they are. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! and then tag some people to do the same. (you can make your own post or reblog this one!)

Alas, this question is a touch complicated for me because I have a lot of folders and a multi-layered organization system. Within my "creative writing" folder, there are many, many other folders. I guess I'll share the ones with in-progress stuff and some file titles that might be of interest.

Folder: "The Corvine" - highlight files:

The Essence of Stars working draft 3

book two planning/early drafting

spin-off book - realm of the fox

the corvine: tale of the fox and the raven

Other big WiP folders:

Cypress Ascending

Story with Gods

A Mind of Static

Rays

but the folder of most interest for this post perhaps is "Ideas that could continue" which contains the following files:

hero is villain?

Fae truth thing

pawns and queens

girl is queen of forest old story idea

Plant Claire dream

Honestly, for the most part, my files all have boring titles that just say straight-up what it is.

I will tag some people from my notes lately: @ratracechronicler @smp-writes @secretnerdghost @my-writblr @drowsy-quill No pressure at all! But I would love to see it if you're interested.

Same goes for anyone who sees this! If you want to do this, consider yourself tagged and tag me in your response!

#ideas that could continue #west answers #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing wips #tag game #i like all my little #they are all just too directionless to become proper wips for now #so they're just things I dally in when I feel like writing whatever specific vibes

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secret-engima · 3 years

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This. Has been a perfectly terrible day. Can I beg you for a ficbit or a snippet from one of your works, like Team Gremlin or Noctscar or something ? I just - they’re beautiful, and I just really, really need something beautiful right now.

SURE. I don’t have much in the way of snippets, but lemme see what I can find. I might have to throw in something from BNHA cause that’s the fandom the muses are chewing on this exact second.

...

Team Gremlin:

It had been … a very bad few weeks for Qrow all told. And that was saying something. Everything had seemed fine one day, business as usual. Tai was back from his requisite number of missions to keep his license and teaching at Signal again —which he genuinely seemed to enjoy for some reason—, his nieces were as adorable as ever, and Summer was sometimes talking his ear off about maybe taking a teaching position somewhere herself after running a few missions to keep her own license active —she’d been busier lately with the girls than running around kicking butt, but it wasn’t like Qrow blamed her for that—.

Then Leo was found dead in his office. Knifed in the neck, one round discharged from his weapon in the direction of the guest couch, blood pooling all over the chair and low table where the investigators said he’d been dragged from and laid on the floor in some kind of pose. No one unusual had been seen going in or out, there had been nothing on the office cameras —covered by a Semblance of some kind, it was decided, because of the fading, glass-like Aura shards on the floor—. The only warning had been the sound of Leo’s single shot before he died. Qrow had arrived as soon as he could to help investigate, since the primary suspect would … not be one the police even knew to look for. He had helped Dyna —poor woman had been wire tense with rage rather than her usual calm self, and it was no wonder—, search for clues the police would miss, then searched the secret tunnels for good measure.

They had found a Grimm inside one of the deeper antechambers, far too deep to have gotten there by accident, a strange, jellyfish like beast that had been surprisingly hard to kill for something that small. They’d never seen it’s like before, and the thought of it being under the school, where kids were, where Oz and his inner circle were supposed to hold sway-. He’d never seen the otter Faunus more furious as they stood amid the fading Dark dust, her lips twisted, brow wrinkled in a way that had made the black line and red dots of her old bandit tattoos look more pronounced.

They’d found no other signs that Salem knew how to get into the school tunnels, but they rechecked them all and trapped several of the ones leading outward as temporary security measures. With Dyna in place as the new —temporary on paper but soon to be permanent— Headmaster, Qrow had gathered up what evidence they could pry loose from their police contacts and gone back to Oz so they could try to sort this out.

Of course, Qrow’s first impulse was to blame Salem, but Oz had listened to the report of a jellyfish Grimm under the school and his expression had folded into something pained. Knowing. He must have known what kind of Grimm it was, but hadn’t elaborated yet, just told Dyna to investigate all of Leo’s documents, Scroll calls, and communications over the past year, and insisted he would not explain until there was either evidence or not for his theory, for fear of making them biased.

So, with Salem seemingly not the automatic culprit, they had started hunting for info. Summer had offered to come back and help, but Oz had told her to stay on her chosen mission instead.

The pen had been an unexpected complication.

...

Always I Dreamed verse

Summer ducked past her into the shower as Raven left it, pausing to stare at Raven’s tattoos for only a moment before chirping a quiet good morning and asking if she was okay after yesterday. Raven just grunted, because she was combat functional and frankly that was all that mattered. She had already pulled on her clothes from yesterday —all their possessions were in her inventory and she didn’t want questions on where it came from, she’d have to stuff it all in a duffel bag and hide it in the den to explain that away later— by the time Taiyang got up and Raven remembered the uniforms. Raven nudged open the bag while Qrow ducked out of their den and peered over her shoulder, “Everybody has to wear that stuff?” Qrow sneered as Raven pulled out the first button down shirt, “Hardly looks sturdy.”

“It’s just for the school grounds I think, we have our combat gear for training missions and stuff anyway.” Taiyang said as he pulled out a shirt of his own from a different bag. Raven took a moment to glance at his bare torso. He slept in pants but not a shirt apparently, which was stupid, but better than being entirely naked at night. He had a decent build, which she knew from watching him fight yesterday, and a truly appalling lack of scars. Her life had been saved by somebody who had probably never had a truly decent fight in his life before that day. Wonderful.

He also had tattoos, and Raven squinted at them for a moment because despite the differing size and placement, they all looked very much like the ones Raven and Qrow had gotten during a rare moment of total drunkenness at fifteen. He was missing the large asian dragon outline that wound up Raven’s own torso, but he had the blue crow perched as if about to take flight that Raven had, the running blue wolf who’s lower half dissolved into petals, and she thought she glimpsed a blue clockwork rabbit under his right arm. When he turned around briefly to put his back to them, she saw that most of his back had been taken up with the stylized outline of a raven in flight.

She shook her head and looked away. Whatever. Summer possessed a tattoo on her arm similar to the asian dragon winding up Qrow’s arm from elbow to shoulder. Some tattoos were just popular, and blue ink was easier to come by for fill-in tattoos than the black used for outlines.

Qrow must have remembered Taiyang’s words last night about Raven’s uniform being at the top, because he was already rooting down to the outfit right beneath hers —there was more fabric in the bag than that, but Raven wasn’t going to worry about why just yet—. He yanked out a shirt and jacket that looked his size, then blinked when something short and plaid tumbled out with it. Snatching it up, he unfolded it and made a face, “Is this a skirt? With my uniform?”

Summer poked her head out of the bathroom, a wash of steam following her —oh right, hot water showers were a thing, darn— while Taiyang looked from Qrow to the skirt and back. Qrow was busy staring at the skirt, so he missed the expression of pure glee that flickered over the other teen’s face before he casually said, “What, that? It’s a kilt, man. Old Vale tradition.” Raven blinked very slowly, because that was a surprisingly good lie even though she knew it was nonsense —her memory on early canon was fuzzy, but she would have remembered the male characters running around in skirts—. She debated calling him on it for a moment, but she was from outside the kingdoms like Qrow, so technically she had no way to know that Taiyang was lying.

Besides, if Taiyang wanted to poke the bear that was her brother’s temper, better he do it now and get it over with than later when they were training.

Qrow was still making annoyed noises under his breath as he examined the “kilt”, and a glance at Summer slipping out of the shower in a towel showed she was fighting down laughter. Silver eyes met Raven’s with hopeful amusement and Raven looked away. She was still angry that the Story had forced itself into place in her life. With a shake of her head, Raven finished yanking out her uniform —one of? There was so much fabric in there, did the school really waste money making multiple outfits for each student?— and started pulling off her old clothes to put it on. Taiyang made a noise like someone had knifed him just as she dropped her shirt to the floor and she looked up in alarm. Taiyang had whipped around to put his back to her, and she could see the flush of color crawling up his neck and the backs of his ears. He didn’t look hurt or anything, but when Summer wandered in and dropped her towel onto her bed to put on her uniform —huh, she had the same tattoos as Raven, Qrow, and Taiyang, just with the perched crow as a large outline that went down to her mid back and a large blue raven in flight over her abdomen that looked like the smaller one on Qrow’s back—, Taiyang made the dying noise again, snatched up his bag of clothes, and rushed for the bathroom.

Raven had the feeling she should understand what that was about, but she didn’t get it, and when she risked a glance at Summer, the other girl actually looked just as baffled. So maybe it wasn’t some social thing she’d forgotten. Maybe it was just a thing with him specifically.

...

Feather-Light and Fire-Bright verse (BNHA)

Which was why, the next time she spotted a little red feather slinking over to place a trio of shiny buttons on the park bench she liked best, she hastily caught it with one hand. It was very soft, wiggling slightly in her grip, twitching and fluttering almost like a frightened living thing, so much so she shushed it gently on instinct, “It’s okay, I won’t damage you.” Taking out the note she’d spent days agonizing over, she skewered it to the quill of the feather, “I need you to take a message to whoever controls you.” She let it go and the feather wiggled erratically in the air, like a cat trying to wiggle free of an unfamiliar collar before flitting away. Fuyumi resisted the urge to chase it and see where it led. She’d sent her note, now she would wait for a reaction.

She absently took the three coat buttons and put them in her pocket before going home. It would be stupid to leave them as litter in the park, but it also felt like a bad idea to throw them away and possibly anger whoever was watching her. Besides, she had a collection going now, she almost had enough matching buttons to make a full set for a long coat.

A week went by with no sign of her shadow before she finally spotted a red feather again. It lurked on the edges of the park, flitting out into view as she walked by before slipping off in the direction of a more sequestered part of the park. Fuyumi hesitated, saw the feather come back and swirl around her a few times like an excited puppy before rushing off again and decided she was either about to meet someone shy or about to be kidnapped and potentially murdered. Slipping her hand into her handbag to grip the small pro-grade taser inside just in case, Fuyumi followed the feather into the copse of trees that shielded that part of the park from the street and the rest of the grassy area.

The feather slipped away to rejoin … a lot of other feathers, and Fuyumi paused on the edges of the little forested nook to get a good look at her mysterious shadow for the first time. Golden eyes, piercing and almost predatory in intensity, flitted up to meet her gaze as he stood up. He was about her age she would guess, maybe a year older, so lean that if she hadn’t been able to see the muscles of his bare arms she would have called him scrawny. He was wearing a sleeveless hoodie that looked like it had lost a few too many rounds with a washing machine, clean but all faded and stretched and worn looking. His hair was all tousled and pale gold, and the red feathers were clustered on his back in huge wings that looked like they belonged on someone about twice his size and weight. He smiled a little, a practiced thing that was too nervous to be real, but if Fuyumi hadn’t lived her entire life around Pro Heroes and the children of other such elites, she would never had known.

He held up her note between too fingers, not commenting on the wary distance still between them nor making any moves to close it, “Um, I’m not a stalker, just wanna get that out of the way. Sorry if I … came off that way? I’m, uh, not good at introducing myself and I didn’t … really know what else to do.”

#SE asks #hamelin-born asks #snippets #snippet #Secret Engima Rambles #Melodies and Manuscripts #Team Gremlin verse #Always I Dreamed verse #Feather Light and Ember Bright verse

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keyofjetwolf · 3 years

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STORYTIME

Episode 19, let’s go, let’s see what you’ve got for me!

Once upon a time, there was a maiden in love. “I want to tell my beloved how I feel, but my love might be over the moment I say it.” Every day she suffered, agonizing in this way. She took no meals, and she was unable even to sleep. And finally, she died without ever having been able to communicate her feelings. But the man she loved married another woman and lived happily ever after, without even knowing the maiden had existed.

Sometimes I just have to laugh, these are so fucking savage.

By not saying it, the end result happens anyway, as far as this specific facet of the maiden’s life is concerned (which appears to be the full extent of it per this story snippet). So what would she realistically have had to lose by saying something? Fuck all, it sounds, so job well done, she wasted everything by staying silent. Was it worth it? I’D GUESS NO

This seems, on the surface, to be about Ahiru, what with her whole “I love Mytho but if I tell him I’ll die/vanish/never exist” thing. Is it, though? Ahiru has a whole lot going on outside of Mytho (for which I am thankful), and I’d heavily argue against her doing nothing but withering away in silent agony.

So if Ahiru is the opposite of this tale, whatever common thread, should we take from this that she doesn’t need to remain silent? That she’s defied the rest of this, and so will defy that too?

Or is this not about Ahiru at all? There’s some lovely imagery in this story. I especially love this image:

The letters unsent, the pool of spilled ink soaking everything, the shadow crossbeams of the window panes, the used and discarded black feather quill. GOOD SHIT HERE. Which doesn’t tie into anything I was saying, I just really like it. This one though:

The swan sword, the raven’s eyes filling the sky, the blade thrusting in one direction but OOPS SURPRISE coming for the killing blow in another.

Are we not talking about Ahiru, then? Are we talking about Fakir? He’s who we first think of with the sword. And he’s certainly taciturn enough to keep every feeling he’s ever had hidden in the depths of his glorious mane. Or is this perhaps Rue/CawCaw? If anyone at this point could be said to be agonizing and trapped, I’d say it’s her.

Once again with this show, what’s meant is dependent on who we cast in the roles, and for something that appears on the surface to be so definitively saying who goes where, it leaves me CONSTANTLY QUESTIONING.

(I’m completely unspoiled for Princess Tutu and watching it for the first time. Please don’t confirm or deny anything in this post, give me hints or cautions or suggestions about future episodes, or try to explain anything going on. That includes if I should’ve been able to figure it out from previous episodes, or if it’s cultural, or if there’s no answer at all. Spoiling the experience only ruins things for everyone!)

#oh fuck i still haven't fixed my macros #NO SHOW REMINDS ME OF THAT SO HARD AS TUTU #jet wolf watches tutu #tutu ep 19

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gayspacerockblog · 6 years

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The Message

Snippet from Burying Dragons. First thing I did after work today. I’d like to especially thank @sparksandstarsandstories for the advice [see bold line in passage] that prompted this writing spree. Also, to @falling--in--place , I actually hit 704 words! Thanks for the words of advice and encouragement. Taking a break to feed myself and the fiancé, but I’ll be back at the keyboard soon, button-smashing my way to feeling productive. Some brief explanation to help the reader: Nym and Nykoli are phinks, small goblin-like creatures with no discernible gender. Nym is mute and was raised by Varen, later finding a life-partner in Nykoli who taught Nym to write. Nym’s soft-hearted, trusting nature is in contrast to Nykoli’s snarky skepticism. I love these small characters and wanted to find ways to give them more presence in the story. Feedback welcome! From beneath her pillow, Teff heard a sharp tapping against her window. It startled her out of the dead silence that had been fueling her anxious mind. She willed herself out of bed and crossed the room, drawing the curtains aside to reveal the stark black silhouette of a large raven. She brightened with familiarity and quickly unlatched the double window.

Varen flew inside, perching on the top of the vanity that backed her writing desk. Her reigns went slack against the mirror, small leather threads hanging like nooses. Nym smiled sadly at Teff before digging into Varen's saddle bag and pulling out a notepad as large as the phink's torso. Nykoli nodded and took the notepad, sliding down the side of the vanity and approaching the edge of the desk where Teff stood with withering patience, desperate for news of Sky.

“Where did they take her?” She burst. The pain of the answer she already knew was a lump in her throat. Nykoli gave no answer and set the notebook down. “We know where she is as well as you. It's dangerous for us there; we can do no more than deliver a message. I wouldn't even do that if my tender-hearted companion here wasn't so insistent on getting involved. The rest is your problem.”

The weight of responsibility left Teff weak. She pulled the chair out and let gravity seat her. Nykoli walked up to the inkwell and removed the lid with some effort. Returning to the notebook and removing a single page, Teff felt grateful for the smallest gestures of the phinks and the compassion that could fit into something so small when her own towering mother showed none. Nykoli put her attention to the piece of paper, holding it up for her to take. “We can get this paper to her. All we can do is fly close enough to deliver it, so make your message count. No room in our carrier for useless dribble.” She held it with shaking hands, trying hard not to damage the fragile parchment no bigger than a matchbook. She had so many things she longed to say; words left unspoken, words that had been choked and stolen by Sky's sudden departure. She wanted to say that she loved her, but Sky would already know that. She wanted to say how sorry she was, how much fault she held, how powerless she had been to stop any of this from happening. She wanted to write a novel describing what Sky meant to her, what she would do to get her back. She held her quill, twisting it between her fingers, trying to warm the ink to her thoughts and hoping the right words would spill forth from the keen nib. Nykoli walked across her desk and laid a bean-sized palm on the back of her hand. “Just tell her everything will be okay.” Offering a forced smile, Nykoli left her to find the words. Teff's fidgeting finally calmed. She took a breath and dipped her quill. She only wrote five words. They stained the paper with a promise she wasn't sure she could keep, words that would give them both hope. Don't be afraid. I'm coming. Her brow furrowed as she read her message again, fighting back frustration and tears. It would have to do.

Nykoli glanced at the note and gave a satisfied nod, tucking it back into the notebook and looking up to where Varen and Nym had been watching intently. “How about a hand, yeah?” Teff smiled politely at the phink's abrupt end to formalities and gave an outstretched palm, allowing Nykoli to walk on of his own accord and returning her friend to Varen's saddle. She caught Nym's watery gaze and felt an added guilt for the danger they were facing in this venture. “You don't have to do this, Nym.” The phink smirked, closed eyes pushing back tears. Nym's head shook, swaying large ears back and forth with a disregard for Teff's objection. She tried her best not to cry, but it did no good. She brushed the top of Varen's head affectionately and let them fly off without another word spoken or unspoken.

#writeblr #write #wip #aspiring author #creative writing #fantasy writing #character development #oc share

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k-sunrael · 7 years

Text

Regret Unfiltered

It had been but a day since the missive had reached Kaevia from abroad. The blonde haired man found himself in an unfamiliar tavern, though as he stepped up to the doors and noticed the insignia and name, he knew it was where he was told to seek. Chatter and typical tavern like sounds filled the air as he made his way through the small crowd that had gathered there to make his way to the bar in hopes of finding someone that would know where she was.

“The Lady is upstairs, sir, though I am not sure she wishes to be bothered.” The bartender offered in reply to his inquiry, though Vel’adir found himself simply smiling in return.

“She will want to see me, it is pre-arranged. Thank you, friend.” Was his retort before the fine but loosely dressed nobleman began his ascent up the stairs to find where the Priestess might be. Coming to the door he was sent toward, he gave it a gentle knock and pushed it open further as it stood slightly cracked. “Kaevia…” He breathed softly to call forth her attention from whatever she might be doing.

The woman at the desk ceased to write whatever she had been scripting to parchment. Much of her desk was littered with ink wells and stampers, rolled wax and snippets of parchment that undoubtedly would become missives or notes for swift reminders.

Visitors weren’t uncommon. After all that was the entire purpose of the bar itself was to provide a locale for people looking for sellswords and a safe haven for those swords to find rest. A hole in the wall without the confines of city laws. Here, they had their own set of rules and code which all seemed to respect, even Kaevia herself was not above the expectations.

The quill paused and in that moment her fingers pinched it tighter. The subtle glow of the light in the room might have made his face a tad difficult to make out until he drew closer. However, the Priestess was smart. She didn’t need a face to know his voice. The woman could have been blind for all of her days and knew exactly who beckoned her. Chance be damned…

“Vel’adir..”She finally rested the feather along the desk and stood, gracefully she balanced herself at the tip of her fingers which kissed the top of her desk, “I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon. It has been quite a while, hasn’t it?” she clipped her words with the question, a curious gaze looking over his person and choice of attire which of course was a little different for him than what she was use to. Then again, it had been half a year or more since they had seen one another. A lot could happen in a short amount of time, after all.

For a moment, as she turned to finally face him, he found himself in a blissful silence that allowed his gaze to look her over with such care. He scoffed a chuckle, his hands pinching at the white linen of his shirt. “I found it much more comfortable at seas and it has rather grown on me.” He admitted before taking yet another few steps closer to her.

The glow and gleam of her eyes in the dimly lit room reminded him of just how near perfect he had found her to be, feeling as if he could always find his way back to her no matter where the world would take him. He could see the stars through her gaze, feel the wind’s breeze with her touch, and know home in his heart. But as much as his being urged to swoop her up then and there, he refrained as it had, in fact, been quite a while as he had left her. “It seems the messenger moved a bit slower than I had intended, allowing us to make further passage home before you actually received my package. Speaking of, I hope you liked it?” He asked, his voice ever sincere, one that almost held a nervousness to it but knowing him he was still calm and collected despite a world of history between two beings.

“As it the way of it.” Kaevia added in response to the speed of which messages often met their recipients.

With careful consideration she adjusting the papers on her desk and casually stuffed them under a paperweight to make along to the front of the desk to ensure a more familiar approach as the Eventide’s had always been close friends of the Sun’raels; t’was better not to impose otherwise.

She dove a hand down into the neck of her jacket and pulled up the pearl and shell at the very end of her chain, “It is lovely and thank you for thinking of me during the moment. I’ll treasure it as I have with all your other gifts. Pearls are a favorite.” she afforded the trinket a fond glance before tucking back into the crevice of material, “So what brings you back here and do you plan on staying for long?” She bobbed her chin in his direction, “The white is suiting, looks far more comfortable.”

His features and entire demeanor seemed to ease as she showed off the trinket, pleased that she had accepted the gift just as he had hoped. “I am glad you like it. I wasn’t sure if- “ With a last moment decision, he shook his head and chose not to finish the sentence. His sandy blonde hair fell loosely over his eyes as he looked down again at his attire. The man seemed to return somewhat different all together, but in a good way. It was as if he had finally found his true self and not one that had been thrust upon him in the way of ‘duty’ and ‘responsibility’.

“You think? It really is easier to handle wearing at long lengths than the stuffy and over exaggerated attire that I typically adorn, and even more the armor…” His gaze fell briefly as his fingertips tapped along the side of his thigh.

“Much of the same with robes.” She chuckled, sharing her thoughts to the matter of attire.

“Kaevia….I…” He began, inhaling deeply before finally lifting his face to look at her which would still be lower than his typical visage. His jaw clenched as it was obvious of an inner struggle that waged in his mind. The moment the decision had been made it was noticeable as he bridged the gap between them with gentle movements, his right hand coming to rest upon her cheek. It was as if he was reliving a moment of their past all over again as he leaned down to place his lips just on the edge of hers instead of forcing a full fledged kiss on her. “I’ve missed you.” He breathed, his words and tone holding the sincerity that could very rarely be rivaled by another.

She was listening – as always. Respect had never left her and while in the moment of chatting and watching him fuss about various parts of himself in a new found flavor, she found her breath pinched just as fast as he had arrived when his touch found her, even more so whispered words and his closeness.

Damn him.

Gently the Priestess’s eyes flicked up at Vel’adir while her form remained completely still against the desk and the lack of space between she and the Eventide, “I’ve missed you though we both know how this ends. It’s never been in our deck, Vel.” her words a low whisper while without much warning her fingertips made a canter along the side of his hand by his side, “You’re one of the few familiar things I remember and keep close. One of the few that continue to have hold over me and yet I know we do nothing but burn one another.” her eyes scanned his mien, feeling his breath. There were no more words or questions on her behalf before her head turned, raven chopped locks found the back of his hand and already, willingly her lips against his to what ushered a slightly more forceful dip towards his own.

He afforded her a smile even as her bitter words came. There were very few expectations held when he made the choice to visit her, knowing that when he sided with Elenaris over her that it would develop a sort of void between them in his absence. Did it hurt? Of course it did, but even from the beginning, back when the two hardly cared one bit for the other, all he wanted was her happiness and wellbeing.

With a single breath, one that shook slightly as her touch fell upon his own, he attempted to give a simple response but what he was met with further was a surprise. His better self would have stopped her, only for the simple reason of he knew that she likely wasn’t ready for something like this. But his selfishly in love self took over as his free arm wrapped around her waist to slightly aid in their height difference and he fed into her eager kiss with his own. He would not let her go until she asked for it, even as he would eventually break away to rest his forehead gently against her own so he might speak. “You don’t have to…I know I’ve hurt you, again…”

Furniture be damned too, as her extremities would touch upon whatever parts of the desk their space allowed and finally her hands clasped to either sides of his face when he sought to place his forehead along her own, “You speak as if though you were the only one to ever do so. Yes, there were times you made your choice but I never held it against you. We all do what we need to when moments call for it.”

Kaevia had steadied herself at his level so long as he afforded her his hold, “No one ever said you had to choose. No one said you couldn’t have it all.” closing her eyes she leaned in to where her nose trailed along Vel’adir’s cheek. This entire song and dance was familiar, something they found themselves waltzing to many times over.

A steady wave of catch and release, “How is the ship treating you?” She asked. Perhaps a terrible time to really just ask about the vessel but she had to know. Afterall, it was the last token of her affections she had left him with.

Holding her close brought him the safety he had long sought after, a feeling he likely only had with her and it was something of a surprise that had snuck up on them both after so many years. He breathed in that familiar and comforting scent, one of fresh flowers that now had the underlying tones of bourbon which brought a soft chuckle from the knight. His almost protective grip around her waist remained even as she seemed to prop herself up against the desk at her back. “It is all I could ever dream of and more… I should have always been a sailor.”

The hand that rested against her cheek slowly traced down her jawline to stop just at her chin so that his thumb and forefinger gently lifted her gaze up to him. “I still hope you will find time to join me on it one day? We could travel to anywhere you wish.” He cooed quietly as his nose nudged her own which spurred a small chuckle from the Priestess.

“Perhaps.” she mused.

Finally she broke the silence that rested between the two for as long as Kaevia allowed, “ I’ll sail with you and you can show me your passion so long as you stay long enough to learn mine.” Her smile was fond and far from relenting as her forehead once more met Vel’adir’s, “The bar can be cozy, the people can be an acquired taste but thankfully you look decently fine enough to mingle with them if you ever dared.” She teased with a gentle tuck of the collar of his loose shirt, “Consider staying with me for a few hours and sample the drinks? At the very least…” her nose trailed his ear that was closest to her, “ –stay for anything.”

Vel’adir found himself chuckling deeply, a sound that rose from his chest in small shakes of his body. “You have a deal, little dove.” There was a brief pause before he was overcome with a grin. “I’m not sure that nickname is too suitable for you anymore, you are far from little… your wings spread further than most.” His compliment was fleeting as he leaned into the words she breathed into his ear. “I will stay, for you.” The words were blunt as he shifted just enough to meet his lips with her own yet again. She could introduce him to the others in due time, sample the liquors and wine, but for now he simply wanted to enjoy her being with him again.

“It’s not.” The Priestess quipped after a stolen kiss, “Most people end up staying because they wish to, time will tell.” She added and her hands lowered to unbutton the front of his shirt, one plying under his arm to wave and add a small shove to the door in the distance to close it from those who would wander so close to their conversation – or worse, get a little too big for their britches in taking a gander.

[[ Collab writing between myself and @veladireventide / @elenariseventide ]]

#collab writing #kaevia #vel'adir #these two and so much of a past it's heartbreaking t.t #sorrynotsorry

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