✍🏻 WIP snippet ✍🏻

hey I'm back! holiday stress is over, and I'm writing again ✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧ here's a little snippet of The Catfriend's Tale, enjoy!

“They were not purposely cruel, but they didn’t understand, and they didn’t care to try. I was nothing more than a novelty, a performing thing they could use for entertainment, and discard when the crowds grew bored.” Soft-Paw stared upwards, the moonlight dappling through the leaves onto their face, turning the tears in their eyes into shining pearls that belied the sadness behind them. “I try not to resent your kind as a whole, but it is not easy. When I see your furless face, those jeering and laughing others come back to me. Your actions tell me that you are not like them, but my memories tell me to be wary.”

“I'm sorry. My kind are far from perfect, and even the best of us could be better. Thank you for giving me a chance, Soft-Paw.”

They flicked their ears a little, looking sideways at him. “No, thank you for showing me a different kind of furless. One who does care and try, even if you don’t get everything right. There are things about us cats you will never understand, much as I imagine there are things about you furless that we will never understand, but your effort and your acceptance are more important than understanding.”

writemas day 24

wishing you all a very happy holiday, here is a little gift for anyone following my Luke & Theresa stories. this is a kind of alternate timeline for them, one where they got their little cottage and the children they planned.

thanks as always to @agirlandherquill , writemas has been lot of fun this year and all of your prompts have been brilliant! today's are here for anyone wanting to check them out :) also thanks to @willtheweaver for the winter themed prompts, I used one of those here too!

the prompts for today's story:

“I’ve come bearing gifts.”

The joys of feasting

A magical night

There by the fire, they were finally happy.

It was the perfect weather to stay close to the fire, listening to music and tales

It was the perfect weather to stay close to the fire, listening to music and sharing tales. The old grey tabby cat purred to himself on the mantle, the sounds blending with the crackle and snap of flames. Theresa threw another log into the hearth, and hoped Luke would be home soon.

As though her wish had been made reality, the door opened in a flurry of snow, and Luke smiled at her. “I’m home!”

Three pairs of feet clattered down the stairs, announcing the excited arrival of the three children. “Dad! What did you get?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve come bearing gifts.” He set down the bags he carried, closed the door on the cold outside, and turned to the little ones. “First things first!” He opened his arms, and all three children flung themselves into them.

“I’ll collect mine later, my love,” Theresa said. “Does any of this need to be chilled, or shall I start cooking?”

Luke nodded to the largest bag, a shimmering blue one. “Just the blue bag, love. The rest are all presents. Now, can you three help me find who these all belong to?”

Theresa scooped up the bag of food and whisked it into the kitchen. It only took a moment, as most of their household tasks were done magically now. Once everything was set and taking care of itself, she returned to her family.

Luke had managed to get the children and the bags into the sitting room. “Let’s see… these ones are for somebody called Henry. Do we know a Henry?”

“Me, me! I’m Henry!” their youngest jumped up and down as he shouted.

“Well then, this must be yours,” Luke handed the bag of presents over. “Next we have a Michael. Who’s Michael?”

The eldest of the three stuck his hand up. “I am!”

“You’d better open Michael’s presents then. And this bag is for a young lady called Pippa. Is Pippa here?”

Their daughter smiled. “Daaad, you’re being silly again.”

“Getting to be silly is my present,” Luke said as he gave her the bag. “One more, which is just labelled ‘my love’.”

“I’ve no idea who that one could be for,” Theresa said, sitting beside him. “We could share them, I suppose.”

Luke returned her soft smile. “I think you’d enjoy them more, Resa. You sit and open your gifts, I’ll sort out dinner.”

Theresa pulled out a few of her presents; a new crystal pendant, a beautiful notebook with matching pens, some of her favourite sugar-coated roasted nuts. She had more fun watching the children open theirs, playing with their new toys and exclaiming over the books and trinkets. Pippa was of an age where she wanted to dress up all the time, and was busy layering on accessories from a large box Luke had brought.

Michael had received a set of expertly carved wooden soldiers, along with painted warhorses that certain soldiers could bend to sit on. He was setting them up in rows, commanding his own little wooden army to defend the town from wicked invaders. Henry, the youngest, was rolling glass marbles about, the firelight making them gleam brightly.

Soon, she knew, all of those toys and gifts would be jumbled up, Pippa’s bracelets and rings used as the precious jewels entrusted by the queen to Michael’s army, who would swear eternal loyalty to their beloved monarch. They would, of course, need catapult ammunition that looked suspiciously like Henry’s marbles, given by the greatest artificer in the kingdom. Theresa had seen countless similar games play out between them, and each one reminded her of playing with her own brother and sister.

Delicious smells began to waft through the cottage, and before long Luke peeked through from the kitchen. “Give us a hand getting this lot served, Resa?”

She left the children to their games, under the sleepy supervision of Stormcloud, and helped to get the magically prepared feast onto serving platters. Rather than a formal, sit-down meal, this was more of a buffet, as had become a tradition in the town over the years. The platters were carried into the sitting room, ready to be picked over at everyone’s leisure.

Luke picked up his lyre, strumming an improvised melody as the children tried to play and eat at the same time. Theresa fed him small bites as he played, and the warmth and magic of the night filled their hearts.

There by the fire, they were finally happy.

~~~

tagging some writer moots: @eli-t-spoon @oh-no-another-idea @writingingraves @keeping-writing-frosty @leahnardo-da-veggie

writemas day 23

thanks again to @agirlandherquill for running writemas again this year! the prompts for day 23 are here if anybody wants to join in :)

this is a little bit of happy winter festival fluff involving Kandrina and her kids, after everything that's happened in the main series so far. the prompt I picked was:

She adored the colours, the lights, all of it.

Meradina craned her neck as far as she could, trying to take in everything at once. The sparkling lights, the glittering decorations, the people dressed in bright and warm clothes. Beside her, her twin sister Ganjue held onto Papa’s hand, and on her other side, Mama held onto hers. This was the first time they had all come out to the winter festival, since this year the girls were three and Mama had said they were old enough to join in.

Last year, they had watched from an upstairs window, trying to catch a glimpse of something as the fringes of the festival brushed past their house. Now they were in the thick of it, and it was even prettier than they had imagined. They had already watched some musicians, and a group of people acting out a story, then they had taken a short ride on a little horse all dressed in bows and ribbons. Later, they were going to watch their own auntie perform a magic show, but they had a little more time until that started.

“Do you girls want to see the jugglers first, or see if you can win a toy at the prize stands?” Papa asked them.

“Jugglers!” Meradina shouted.

“Prizes!” said Ganjue.

Mama and Papa smiled. “Looks like we’re splitting up already. Meet back here in an hour for Enkarini’s show?” Mama said.

“Sounds like a plan. Come on, let’s go see what games they have.” Papa led Ganjue off to the brightly lit stalls to one side, kissing Mama on the cheek as he passed her.

Meradina could already see the jugglers starting their show. “Mama, they started!”

“Then let’s go watch them,” Mama said, scooping her up and squeezing through the crowd towards the jugglers.

They were amazing, throwing balls and batons back and forth across the stage, never dropping a single one. One came out riding a single wheel, weaving in and out of the others, catching and throwing in time to music that had started up. Another was doing a handstand, and juggling with his feet! Meradina started giggling at the sight of him.

Before she knew it, they were all bowing, the crowd clapping wildly. Mama held her tight and waited for all the rushing people to leave before moving. “Did you enjoy that?”

Meradina nodded. “M-hm. I liked the one doing handstands best.”

“He was very good, wasn’t he? Where should we go now? We have a little time before auntie Enkarini does her magic show.”

“I want to look at lights,” Meradina said.

“Alright then. I think the main light displays are over there.” Mama led the way through all the people, until they reached the brightest, twinkliest part of the festival.

Meradina stared and stared. Candles and lanterns and even some of the fancy new glass bulb lights were arranged to make lovely patterns and pictures. Colours shone through tinted covers, and some had even made the candle flames burn different colours. “How do they make the flames like that, Mama?”

“Do you mean the coloured ones? I think they use alchemy, but I have no idea how it’s done. You’d have to ask your auntie, she’s good with that sort of thing.”

They walked around the light displays for a while, until Mama said it was time to find Papa and Ganjue. “What’s your favourite bit of the festival so far, Meri?” Mama asked.

Meradina thought about it. Everything had been her favourite, there was no way to pick! She adored the colours, the lights, all of it. The whole festival was her favourite, really. “Don’t know. I like all of it!”

“It is all a lot of fun,” Mama agreed. “But do you know what my favourite bit is?”

“What?”

“Spending time with you and your sister, and seeing you enjoy yourselves.”

Oh, she hadn’t realised she could pick Mama and Papa and Ganjue as her favourite part! “You’re my favourite part too! You and Papa and Gani! But you’re my favourites all the time, not just here.”

Mama laughed, and picked her up again. “Papa and you and Gani are my favourites all the time, too. Come on, let’s go find them and see what auntie Rini is doing for her show.”

~~~

tagging some writer moots: @eli-t-spoon @theeccentricraven @aquixoticwrites

writemas day 22

and the last one for today, caught up with the latest set of prompts! thanks once more to @agirlandherquill for all the inspiration :)

here are the ones I picked:

Achlys watched the sky, wisps of white drifting across the expanse of clear blue. She had been among the first to volunteer for the reversal ritual, taking the ability of renewal from the dragons. They would still have long lives, around seven or eight centuries, but the gift-turned-curse would no longer come into effect on their deaths. For the first time in aeons, their kind had a chance to move forward, let go of old grudges and rigid traditions, and make new lives for themselves.

The Weyr Mother, in her final moments, had passed a message to all dragons expressing her wish that this stolen immortality should end. Though some still refused, clinging to the eternal lives they had once been given, most agreed in the end. Nothing should last forever.

Časilia, who apparently now preferred to go by Dranj-Aria, the name humans had granted her, said she had a plan to deal with the holdouts once the willing were mortal again. She had known all along it would be a mistake, but the rest had overruled her back then. It was a shame it had taken such atrocities for them to listen to her.

“Hey, Achlys?”

She blinked and looked down to see Enkarini leaning on the edge of her nest. “Hey Rini. Everything okay?”

“I was going to ask you that,” she said, swinging her legs over the side and sitting down with a slight thump. “You went through that ritual so you can’t renew anymore. I know you would have thought it all over before going ahead, but… are you okay with that?”

Achlys nodded. “More than okay. I think it’s the best decision I’ve made in a long time.”

“But, it means you’re going to die.”

“Yeah, like everything else in the universe. The way things should be,” she said. “It’s not like I’m going to drop dead tomorrow, Rini, I have a good six hundred years left in me.”

Enkarini nodded, but sniffled a bit. “I know, it’s just… it’s like you want to die or something. You could have lived forever, but you chose not to?”

Achlys sighed. “Rini, this body is only a hundred and fifty, but my mind and soul are hundreds of thousands of years old. Renewal took care of a lot of things, ailing health and encroaching memory loss, that kind of thing, but there’s a weariness that comes from having been around that long. Getting a shiny new body every few centuries doesn’t fix that. I was getting so bored of life. Nothing was new or exciting anymore, I had no appreciation for the little joys that I’d seen a million times before because I knew I’d see them a million more times. Now, I know that someday I won’t see them again. I have a limited time now, I can’t put things off for another three or four lives because I don’t have those lives to waste.”

She paused, watching her young human friend begin to understand.

“When we arrived on this world, chasing after the bahambi all that time ago, we didn’t care about the new things we could discover here. All we cared for was our ancient feud with those who had once been our friends, our benefactors. We had seen so many new worlds with new things that another novelty didn’t matter. That was wrong, and so few of us ever noticed until recently. You and your friends were part of it, but it was so hard for most of us to break the stagnation of millennia. Being mortal once more has set us free. In a way, it’s a better renewal than all we had before, because it’s the last one.”

“What about the dragons who are already old? Some of you are already eight or nine hundred, won’t this just mean they die really quickly?”

“The bahambi are not cruel. Any who are old have been allowed one final renewal, to have a full life before their end, if they choose to.” Achlys stretched, looking back upwards. “Some have taken that offer. Others have not, choosing to end. I can understand both perspectives.”

They were silent for a while, alone with their thoughts. “What will you do with this last, new life?” Enkarini asked quietly.

“I want to explore this world. There’s so much more out there I want to see, and I’ve been leaving it until the next life for far too long. Now that I won’t have one, I’m excited to get out there and see things for the first time. I’m going to appreciate every sunset, every birdsong, every person I meet. Because now, I don’t know how many more I’ll get to experience.”

“You appreciate things more when you only have so much of them,” Enkarini said with a smile. “I guess it makes sense that applies to life, too.”

“It sure does. I’m off for a fly around the mountains. You want to join me? There are some amazing views from the peaks that I’ve never really taken time to admire before.”

In answer, Enkarini rose into the air on her shadow cloud. “Lead the way.”

Achlys extended her wings, one flesh and one mechanical, and took off. Ahead there lay a sky with endless horizons, and beside her flew one of her best friends. Life was good, and she intended to make the most of however much she had.

~~~

tagging some writer moots: @writingingraves @kaylinalexanderbooks @the-golden-comet

writemas day 21

story 2 of 3, catching up fast! thanks @agirlandherquill for the awesome prompts, and for running writemas!

here's the prompt I picked for day 21:

A secret's unfolding

The tiny lights danced around them all, bringing sparks of truth back to Kester as he held the ruined tome. Though the paper and ink were damaged and degraded beyond reading, the spirits Moon-Eye and Great-Whisker had taught him to see were recreating the lost secrets in his mind.

With the help of both Runecats, that knowledge was transferred to new pages, new books, given new life for the first time in almost three hundred years. A long time for humans, but almost unthinkably distant for the Nightcats, who only lived around twenty-five years. Even to Moon-Eye and Great-Whisker, some of the oldest of their kind, this was ancient history. Kester found the words slipping through him, retained only in a vague sense, like something read once a long time ago.

After a while, the spirits slowed, then stopped, fading back to wherever they had come from. “How much did we get?” he asked.

The two cats leant over the new book that was no longer blank. “I think the entire book was recreated. There seems to be nothing missing or jumbled,” Moon-Eye said.

Great-Whisker turned the pages, scanning the contents. “Remarkable. Even the writing style has been preserved. This looks like a clan history, but it is not one I am familiar with. Ice Clan,” they said. When they reached the last few pages, they paused. “The last entry describes their merging with River Clan. This is a long lost piece of our history, young furless. A forgotten clan is restored to our memory today. Their spirits will be most pleased to be remembered.”

Kester smiled. It had been difficult to begin with, but with every tome and scroll he restored, it grew easier. The task was one that appealed to him regardless, helping to uncover and restore lost knowledge, and knowing that it could help his new feline friends was even better. “What are we working on next?”

“Stay with that shelf. If one clan history was kept there, others were likely beside it. Much of the time of the clans has been forgotten, and what little we have passed down may no longer be correct. Something in that past may help us create a new future,” Great-Whisker said.

Kester nodded and gently picked up the next crumbling book. What lost secrets this one held, and how it might be helpful today, he didn’t yet know. He was excited to find out, though.

~~~

tagging some writer moots: @oh-no-another-idea @write-with-will @bloodmoonloveletter

writemas day 20

you're getting 3 stories posted in a row, because I got behind again and managed to write all 3 this afternoon

thanks again @agirlandherquill for running writemas, and for the amazing prompts for day 20!

here are the ones I picked:

~~

The shadow of the volcano fell across the pair of students. Soris couldn't help feeling a little nervous despite himself, the majesty of the planet's barely contained power humbling his usually assured confidence.

Ember, on the other hand, seemed more alive than ever, her deep red hair almost glowing with energy drawn from their surroundings. “What are we doing today, unc?”

“We? You two are going to weave your sparks together, and call on the volcano to follow your lead. I'm going to sit back here and enjoy this cake.”

Soris gave the cake a longing glance. “Save some for us, Blaise. That does look good.”

“There’s a second one in the box. Get your weaving perfect, and it’s yours, kiddo.” Blaise peeled off the paper case and took a large bite. “Now, get your sparks working as one, and then you’re going to bring the mountain down on us. I want you to cause a controlled eruption, and direct the lava flow safely around this little rock we’re sat on.”

Soris felt his jaw drop. “Make the volcano erupt on us?” It came out as a strangled whisper that neither of the others paid attention to.

Ember grinned, a wild joy making her spark flare into being in front of her. “Come on, Soris. Spark out, and weave with mine. It’s nothing we haven’t done before.”

“We’ve never stood next to an erupting volcano before,” he said, with less confidence than he had wanted to.

“Well, we’re doing it now. I don’t know about you, but I want that caramel cake.” Ember began whirling her spark through the air. “Unless you’re too scared? I can do this myself.”

He took a deep breath and called out his own spark. “Not a chance. Let’s get that cake.” Nervous as he was, he would not let a challenge like this pass. Blaise wouldn’t have set them up to do this if he couldn’t take control if things went horribly wrong.

Ember’s deep red flame and Soris’ bright white one spiralled around each other, each splitting into two chains that darted around either side of the massive volcano. They lost sight of the leading ends, but Soris could feel it stretching out and around, the molten rock inside becoming attached to the energy they had sent out.

When they felt the two separate streams rejoin on the opposite side, the energy shifted slightly. Something inside the circle they had made responded to their sparks, ready to act on their direction. Soris could feel Ember taking more of a lead, which was fine by him. This was her element, quite literally, and she had a natural command of it that he doubted he would ever fully develop.

His spark supported her call to the magma, and with a rumble that shook the earth around them, glowing lava began to leak from the fissures around the mountain. The trickle became a steady stream, pouring down the sides and flowing towards their raised perch of rock.

Ember waited until the last minute to split the flow, directing it in almost perfect halves around the sides of the rock. Heat came off it in waves, almost too much for Soris to bear, but the other side of his skills protected him somewhat from the worst of it. Lava lapped at the sides of their little island, almost like a strange river lapping at the shore.

Their sparks returned to them after a moment, and the lava flow slowed and began to cool, leaving a trail of fresh obsidian shining around them like glass. Blaise applauded, his face sticky and grinning. “Nicely done, both of you. One caramel cake, as promised. Share nicely, kiddos.”

Soris broke the cake into rough halves, and offered Ember first pick. She took one, and the two of them sat happily munching the sweet treat. As nerve-wracking as it had been to watch the lava stream towards him, Soris was glad he had gone through with it. Next time, he’d be more confident about things.

~~~

tagging some writer moots: @eli-t-spoon @keeping-writing-frosty @theeccentricraven @willtheweaver @leahnardo-da-veggie

writemas day 19

thanks again to @agirlandherquill for running writemas! today's prompts are here if anyone wants to join the fun (^⁠‿⁠^⁠)

I picked this one today:

A shimmering statue

The statue in the middle of town had been there longer than anyone could remember. It supposedly depicted one of the founders, though nobody could ever agree on which one. It never seemed to need repairs, or maintenance. Nobody even polished the thing, but it still gleamed as though it had been built yesterday.

Maria thought it was a bloody eyesore. Every morning she woke up, opened her curtains, and was blinded by the sunlight reflecting off it directly into her bedroom. She could swear the damned thing smirked at her whenever she walked past it.

Every day for the past twenty years.

She was sick of that stupid, shining, smug bastard of a statue.

So tonight, she was going to blast it to pieces.

She had delved into dark places seeking knowledge most would never dream of needing. In her kitchen, lumps of a substance that looked almost like bread dough sat waiting in her pantry. Beside them, the heaviest sledgehammer she could lift, to take care of any chunks her homemade explosives didn’t quite get.

She wanted that statue completely irreparable.

Under the cover of darkness, she crept out of her door, bag laden with her carefully prepared statue removers. Even in the scant moonlight, the thing shimmered at her, almost as if it was winking.

She planted her explosives, lit the makeshift fuse, and stood back, hefting the sledgehammer.

The blast was less impressive than she had imagined, but still did the job. Bits of glittering stone scattered across the square, fragments of arms and legs and torso. The head, somehow still in one piece, rolled towards her and stopped at her feet. The stupid face was still smirking at her.

She lifted the hammer, ready to smash it to powder.

The statue blinked. “I’m sorry.”

The world shifted.

Maria stood in the centre of the square, hammer raised, unable to move. The pieces of statue disappeared, the remains of her homebrewed bombs vanished. The night passed, the sun rose, glinting off her head and straight into her neighbour’s window. People walked by, glancing up occasionally and wondering which of the town’s founders she was.

Her neighbour Diane scowled as she walked past. “Stupid thing,” she muttered. “I wish someone would smash it to bits.”

~~~

tagging some writer moots: @eli-t-spoon @keeping-writing-frosty @ryns-ramblings @leahnardo-da-veggie @willtheweaver

writemas day 18

I can't believe it's nearly over (⁠〒⁠﹏⁠〒⁠) thanks once again to @agirlandherquill for today's fantastic prompts!

today I picked:

The trials of friendship

~~

Two pairs of frustrated fists banged on the door. “Get this thing open!”

“We’re trying, it’s got itself stuck. Ustin’s gone to fetch a prybar, just be patient for a bit,” Enkarini called through the thick wood.

Ember’s amused voice came next. “What did you go in there for, anyway?”

Soris gave the heavy door a kick, which only resulted in a sharp pain in his foot. “Looking for those stupid books, obviously. Why else would I be in a library storeroom?”

“I was trying to find something to help Josie. The door swung shut behind me, it’s not my fault it jammed!” Caiara shouted. She flumped down against one of the crates. “If I’d known I’d be stuck here with you I would have waited until tomorrow.”

Soris huffed. “Right, because I’m having the time of my life right now. I just love being locked in a dusty cupboard with a whiny bint.”

“You know, you don’t make it easy to be your friend. I get the whole ‘keep idiots away’ thing, but you don’t have to be such a snarky git all the time.”

“You don’t have to be so deliberately oblivious all the time either. Closing your eyes and wishing the crap away doesn’t work in the real world, and not everything can be fixed with the power of friendship and love. Sometimes you’ve got to be a mean bastard to get things done.”

“Like you? How many things have you ‘got done’ by calling people names and shooting down everyone’s ideas?”

“I try to find realistic solutions instead of just pretending things are fine. You want to help Josie? Get her to talk about what she went through! Yes, she’ll cry. She’ll be hurt and scared and angry, and all kinds of horrible feelings. But she’ll get it out there instead of sitting on it and letting it rot in her mind! There’s no magic spell that can fix it, Caiara! You can’t wave your hands over her head and make all her trauma disappear!”

“She’s already been hurt so much! I don’t want her to have to go through it all again, I can’t make her relive it by talking about it all!”

“You don’t want to make her relive it, or you don’t want to hear about it?”

Caiara glared at him without answering.

“Look, I know you’ve had a pile of crap in your life too. All of us have one way or another. You’re so determined not to become your mother that you’ve locked away every bit of anger you ever felt, whether it was justified or not. You act like the whole world is rainbows and kittens, ignoring every problem until it comes and smacks you in the face, and sure you can act in that moment, but afterwards? You just go about exactly as you did before, pretending nothing bad ever happened. That doesn’t help to actually solve anything. It just makes you feel better for a while.”

“It’s not becoming my mother I’m scared of.”

Soris sank to the floor, his back against the door, staring at her. “Then what is it? Why are you so relentlessly cheerful even when the world around you is falling apart?”

She trembled ever so slightly, hugging her knees and hiding her face. “Soris… my father was… he was evil. I don’t mean that in the stupid temple sense, or the way some people call anyone they don’t like evil. He… my mother was his daughter. She was only twelve when he… when I was conceived. She wasn’t the only one. I read the temple court records. He’d targeted girls as young as six. I… I came from that, that evil is part of me, and I’m afraid that if I let myself feel angry or start hating people…” her words trailed off into silence that hung in the air for a moment.

“Caiara, do you seriously believe that you’re going to start molesting kids if you let yourself be angry?” Soris let the question sink in. “What your father did was disgusting, but that was his problem. His evil, his twisted self, his actions, his crimes. You’re not that, not any of that, and I don’t see any world where you ever could be. Even if you get really pissed off at me and scream foul curses for an hour straight. Feeling normal human emotions doesn’t make you… that.”

“I know that. I’m still scared.”

“Good. Let yourself be scared. Let yourself be mad at your mother for treating you like she did. Let yourself hate your father for what he did. It’s okay to be upset and angry at people who hurt you.”

Caiara looked up, her eyes red and moist. “And then forgive them?”

“If you want. Or stay mad at them. Send them a package of slime anonymously. Yell a rude word when you pass them in the street. Whatever gets that little bit of rage out, before it festers.”

She snorted, shaking her head. “Cupboard therapy with Soris. Shall we make this a weekly appointment?”

He smirked. “That’s more like it. Toss out a sarcastic barb now and then. You’d be surprised how much it helps.”

There was a firm knock on the door. “Are you two done working out whatever your problem was?” Ustin called.

The two looked at each other. “How long have you been there?”

“About a minute. Shall I open the door or did you want a bit longer to talk?”

“Open it,” both said at once.

There was a thunk, a splintering creak from the door, and it finally swung open with a swirl of disturbed dust.

“Finally. No offense, but I never want to do that again.”

“That makes two of us.” Caiara paused. “Um… the stuff I said about…”

“What stuff?”

She blinked. “Right. Never mind. Come on, Ri, I think me and you should go have a sit down with Josie.”

Ember watched them go, then gave Soris a confused look. “What was that about?”

“Just some personal stuff she needed to get out of her head. I can’t say she’s my favourite person in the world, but we’ve been through some real crap times together. Apparently you can be friends with someone even if you don’t like them a whole lot.” He shook off the dust that had settled on him from the old storeroom. “Come on, we’ve still got books to find.”

~~~

tagging some writer moots: @theeccentricraven @keeping-writing-frosty @write-with-will @inky-anathemata @aalinaaaaaa

writemas day 17

*** THIS ONE IS NOT A PLEASANT READ *** SKIP IF YOU ARE EVEN A TINY BIT SQUEAMISH ***

so, this one was inspired by some very morbid and horrifying research I have been doing recently. it's summed up fairly well by this video, telling some of the stories from survivors of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. again, please skip this one if that's something you don't want to read/hear about.

thanks go to @agirlandherquill for running writemas, and for all the amazing prompts so far

the ones that grabbed me for this:

~~

writemas day 16

thanks again to @agirlandherquill for running writemas, and for these brilliant prompts! this is a little snippet of character backstory for Heath, one of the D'chymka forest folk in my books.

the prompts I picked was:

A vastness of vines

~~

The forest breathed in time with him. Its energy and his own were so entwined at this moment, he could hardly tell where he ended and the trees began.

Grow, he thought, a light and gentle idea passed to the life surrounding him.

The forest responded, from the mighty trees to the creeping vines underfoot, with a burst of growth.

His own small self seemed to grow also, the energy feeding back on itself to sprout new hair and lengthen nails. The small scratches he picked up from always wandering the woods barefoot healed instantly.

“I think you gained a good couple of inches there, sprout.”

Heath turned to see his father, Lyndon, watching from a branch above. “Me? I was only trying to make the forest bloom.”

“That you did, and the forest helped you in return. You'll need to direct those thoughts better in future, unless you want to be as tall as these fine fellows,” Lyndon patted the branch he sat on. “No harm in a little extra growth at your age, though.”

Heath looked around at the forest, a little greener and livelier than it had been moments ago. “How do I do that?”

Lyndon slid from the branch, several others bending gently to make stairs for him to walk down. “Try to focus your energy on one thing, instead of melding with the whole forest. Nature reciprocates, unless you tell it otherwise. Take these vines, and have them alone grow. Not the rest, not you, just the vines. They're strong enough to handle it.”

Heath shuffled on the ground, resting his hands on the nearest vines. They all connected back to each other, he could feel it. Twining himself into that connection was easier than ever now, and he gave them another gentle burst of energy. Grow yourselves, he thought to them. No need to give back, just grow.

At his father's clapping, he opened his eyes. A tangle of vines had sprouted upwards, outwards, and woven through the nearest trees. It was a huge web of green forming a delicate net around the clearing.

“Nicely done, my boy. You're a natural at this.”

Heath grinned to himself. He had never quite fitted with the other boys in town, though most of them were friendly enough. Here, among the vibrant green life and the fresh scent of growing things, he felt he truly belonged.

~~~

tagging some writer moots: @eli-t-spoon @write-with-will @keeping-writing-frosty

writemas day 15

I'm a little late with this one, but here it is! thanks to @agirlandherquill for these amazing prompts ✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧

I picked these two:

“I'm seeing this through.”

There lingered something, a ghost, in the mirror.

~~

Soris pushed down the urge to throw something. This was his twelfth time trying to speak with the wisps that had attached themselves to him, and he felt he should have achieved something by now. “This is stupid. Why am I even trying to talk to specks of fog anyway?”

Thompson smirked, giving Soris an idea of what it was like dealing with himself. “You know they’re more than that. Getting mad at them isn’t going to help.”

“Then what is? I’m not expecting to be amazing right away, but I’ve been at this for weeks. I should be able to do something.”

“Hang on a minute. I think I saw one somewhere around here…” Thompson disappeared into the next room, and Soris could hear him searching for something. “Hah! Knew it.”

Soris stared as he emerged, a rather fancy ladies’ hand mirror held out before him. “I don’t need to check my makeup, thanks.”

“It’s a spirit glass, fool. See these carvings around the frame, and the slightly smoky glass? Back in the day, people used these to attempt communication with those who had passed on. Some were more skilled than others, but with the right energy, these can act like a calling mirror that connects to the dead. Of course, for most people now they’re nothing more than fancy mirrors. Few know what they truly are, let alone how to use them.”

“So what’s the right energy?”

“For most people, strong isithi and a lot of patience. The dead are rarely in a hurry. You, on the other hand, have a nifty little shortcut. You’ve already been on their side of the call, so with practice, you should patch straight through. Unless you want to pack it in? I’m not going to make you push yourself.”

Soris shook his head. “I’m not giving up. Hand over the mirror, I’m seeing this through.”

With the gold-framed mirror in one hand, and a soft grey wisp dancing over the other, he reached out again to the spirits in the mist. The darkened mirror grew clouded, writhing fog gathering behind the glass. Shapes formed and dissipated too quickly to identify. The wisp in his other hand grew agitated, moving closer to the mirror, flickering and shaking.

This time, when he let go of the energy and dropped the spell, there lingered something, a ghost, in the mirror. Who or what it was he didn't know. Something had made contact, and looked back at him from where his reflection ought to be.

“Who are you?” he whispered to the face not his own.

“Lost.” It vanished into fog after the one word, leaving the mirror dark and misted once again.

Soris looked up to see Thompson smiling, a hard glint in his eyes. “It will get easier. They're not often terribly communicative, but you'll learn to understand the meaning behind the few words.”

He looked down at his hands again. “The wisp’s gone.”

“It went back to the other side. You'll see it again soon.”

~~~

tagging some writer moots: @theeccentricraven @kaylinalexanderbooks @revenantlore @leahnardo-da-veggie @eli-t-spoon

writemas day 14

thanks again @agirlandherquill for running writemas! it seems to have flown past this year... here are the prompts if anyone wants to join in :)

the ones I picked were:

~~

Wind howled. Rain dripped through gaps. Old branches creaked and threatened to collapse on them. Still they sat, relying on the poorly thrown together shelter to keep at least some of the foul weather off their heads.

“Why does this always happen when you're around?”

“You can't seriously blame me for the storm.”

“Oh, I know you didn't summon it or pray for it or anything. But every single time you come on one of these expeditions, something goes horribly wrong. I go alone, things are fine. I bring someone else, things are fine. I bring you, there's a disaster. It's like you and trouble come as a package; there's a problem, and there's you. Every damned time.”

“Leave me bloody home next time, then. Have your perfect damn trip without me.”

They were silent again for a moment, only interrupted by the wild weather rattling their meagre bivouac. The sounds of splintering echoed around them, making them huddle closer together for warmth in the sudden chill.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“But it’s what you said.”

“I’m sorry, okay? It’s just frustrating that everything seems to conspire to stop you and me having a good time out here. We always end up soaked, or stuck somewhere, or one of us gets injured, or we lose something important, or all of the above, and the whole trip is ruined.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I’m not meant to see the glories of nature. Maybe nature hates me.”

“Nature doesn’t hate you. It can’t hate anything, it’s not alive. Well, it is, but… you know what I mean.” There was a pause, where even the weather seemed to ease for a few seconds. “I brought a pack of cards, if you fancy a game of rummy. Something to do while we wait for the storm to pass.”

Another short pause, followed by a soft laugh. “And you said we never have a good time on these trips. You deal, buddy.”

They dealt the cards and lost themselves in the game, rattling winds and cold rain growing more distant with every hand. Neither noticed the chill, or the lack of shelter above, or their silent twins buried under rocks and branches beside them.

After several rounds, they looked up. “Hey, question.”

“What?”

“Why didn’t we just go to that inn over there instead of huddling under a random pile of branches?”

“What inn?”

“That one.”

“Huh. I didn’t see that before… well, let’s get in there and dry out.”

They stood, leaving their twins and their fallen shelter behind, and walked towards their last destination.

~~~

tagging some writer moots: @eli-t-spoon @theeccentricraven @ryns-ramblings @write-with-will @leahnardo-da-veggie

writemas day 13

thanks again to @agirlandherquill for running writemas, and for these brilliant prompts! today's story is just a little snippet, part of a confrontation that's been building up for 3 books now (•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)

inspired by these two prompts:

~~

Kandrina stared down the spiteful goddess clad in blood red silk and forest dirt. This divine witch had haunted her nightmares for years, had once taken control of her arms and killed with her sword, had tried to enslave her mind and trap her into service. She had escaped by the skin of her teeth, and thought she would never face the Mistress again.

For the sake of her daughters and her little sister, she had done many things she had thought she would never.

Killing a goddess seemed easier with them in her mind.

“You think I wont stand against you until my last breath to protect my family? There's nothing I wouldn't do for them - know that.”

The Mistress smiled, a hard and cold thing with a steel edge. “Your grandmother once said the same thing to me. Now she kneels at my side, as you will.”

Kandrina’s smile matched hers. “Do your worst.”

~~~

tagging some writer moots: @eli-t-spoon @write-with-will @theeccentricraven