Edema Rue Posted April 28, 2023 Author Report Share Posted April 28, 2023 (edited) On 4/13/2023 at 10:06 PM, Edema Ruh said: And this one is a response to a prompt one of my friends gave me! Reveal hidden contents “Surprise! I’m back from the dead. Excited?” I lifted my head slightly at the sound of Talin’s voice. It had worked. Our plan had worked…so far. It could still go wrong. If Talin realized I was here, saw my condition, he’d get emotional. He’d lose control. So I slid back beneath the rubble as much as I could, though it was nearly impossible to move with so many stones on top of me. I should have known better than to try to fight a wizard on my own. No matter. It was too late now. As far as Talin knew, I was safe. When he went below after the fight to find me…I held in a cough as I felt something dripping into my eye. How strange. I wasn’t that sweaty, was I? Red blocked my vision for a moment as blood dripped onto the ground below. Oh yes. I was wounded. “How?” Eirne’s raspy voice finally responded. I couldn’t see either of them, but I could picture how Eirne’s face must look easily, and I chuckled at the thought. The chuckle turned into a cough. Oops. I probably had several broken ribs. For some reason, this struck me as funny. Had I hit my head? That wasn’t good. I blinked rapidly, trying to think. Eirne was talking…what was he saying? Straining my focus, I could barely understand him. “It doesn’t matter how you’re alive.” Eirne finally said. “You’re going to fail.” “Am I?” Talin taunted. “You didn’t think I’d be back. You have no idea what we’re doing, no idea how doomed you are.” “We?” Eirne asked, so innocently that I knew everything was about to go wrong. Talin chuckled, incredulous. Inwardly, I cursed his foolishness. He’d always been so dense. But there was nothing I could do, trapped as I was. “You mean you really haven’t figured it out? Ace is destroying your army as we speak.” I groaned softly. No! Don’t mention me…but the damage had been done. “Your lover?” Einre roared with laughter, a sound that had once been familiar. “She’s over there. If she’s still alive, that is.” I imagined him gesturing at the wreckage, pictured Talin running, and a moment later, footsteps pounded the dust next to my head. “Ace…” Talin whispered, his voice as gentle as I’d ever heard it. His hand started to glow, and I knew what he was going to do. “No,” I snapped. “You will not save me with the power you should be using to kill him.” Maybe I would have been more convincing if I hadn’t started coughing up blood at the end. I ignored the pain, looking into Talin’s eyes pleadingly. “Please,” he whispered. “I can’t…I can’t do this without you, Ace. Let me heal you. It’s my fault you can’t heal yourself. It’s my fault.” He was crying. I freed one of my arms and lifted it to his face, wiping away the tears. “Don’t cry, love. You know as well as I do why I sacrificed my power,” I choked, then caught my breath desperately. “I’m not afraid of death. I never have been. This is the only way for you—for us—to win.” “I don’t care,” Talin said, fresh tears flowing. “Don’t you understand? If you’re gone, none of it matters. I don’t care about beating him. I don’t care if he destroys the world, in the end. As long as I have you, we win. Please, Ace. Don’t leave me. I felt my own tears start then, but they didn’t change the truth. “Oh, Tal. I love you more than life itself. But if he destroys the world, how many more will suffer?” My eyes hardened. “If you throw away this shot, how many more hearts will you be knowingly tearing apart?” He ran a hand through his hair, suddenly angry. “Can’t you stop being so selfless, just once? You always care so much about the rest of the world. The world has never helped us, Ace, not once. And yet you’re so determined to save them. We can find another way. Just let me save you, and I will do anything you ask. Anything.” One of his tears fell, splatting on my forehead. I barely felt it. I was running out of time. “No.” He sat back, trembling. “What makes you think I can do this?” He finally asked. “How do you know I won’t just fall apart the second you’re gone?” I smiled faintly. “I know you, Tal. You are a hero, down to your core. I have seen your highs and lows, but through it all, you never stop fighting.” I coughed weakly. “It will hurt, Tal. It won’t ever stop hurting. But if you remember anything of me, remember this: I have loved you through it all. I loved you when you were a monster. I love you as a hero. Nothing you can do will touch my love for you. And whether it is in moments or decades, when we meet again…” I was gasping for breath now, but I had to finish. “When we meet again, we will be the champions. No matter what.” There were so many words I still needed to say, but I was out of time. I felt my arm go limp, and it dropped from Talin’s face. He leaned over me, holding me close, crying. But only for a moment. Then he let out a roar, a horrid sound of rage and pain and raw emotion. That sound promised death. He whirled towards Einre. Inside my broken body, I smiled. He’d come through. Just like he always did. And then the world faded into blackness, and I knew no more. That second one got a lot sadder than I originally intended, but I'm happy with how it turned out. Enjoy!! Okay so this thing I wrote is these same characters, it's the scene that comes right after and another one with the two of them. It's not quite as heart wrenching (and therefore not quite as good) but it was fun to write: @The Wandering Wizard Spoiler Talin roared, rushing away from the corpse of the only person he had ever loved. She had sacrificed her magic, giving it to him. She’d promised that the only way to kill their old friend was if he held that much power. But now she was dead, and now he’d broken the only vow he’d ever made to her. I swear I will always protect you. Ace had never been one for formalities, never wanted anything that felt routine or empty. Legally, they’d never been married. They’d never had a ceremony, never had a moment to sit back and just…be. Their ceremony had been the thousands of tiny moments where they professed their love for each other; the fights they had ran into, each trusting that the other had their back. The times he had held her as she struggled to breathe through the demons in her mind. The days they’d spent together. The smile Ace reserved just for him. The smile he would never see again, a voice in his head whispered, and something in him broke, shattered, fell into millions of pieces that could never be restored. A thousand moments were the foundation of the wedding vows that they would never say. A thousand moments had built a love so pure that her death ripped through him more violently than any wound he’d felt. Barely a moment had passed since he’d felt her hand go limp, and suddenly he was on top of Einre. This man–no, this demon–had killed the only good thing left in the world. Talin drew his sword as he ran. Einre tried to fight, tried to defend himself, but Talin’s superior magic sliced through his attacks like a warm knife through butter, like a claw through thin paper. His vision went red, then black. Ace had always said not to fight angry. She had always said—it hurt to think of her in past tense. The pieces of his heart broke again, became dust that could be blown away by the slightest breeze. He stood up straight, blinking away the haze. There was a thump as Eirne’s corpse hit the ground. Talin turned away in disgust. As he looked at Ace’s crumpled form, the wind tugged at her bright red scarf, and he flinched visibly. He’d given her that scarf, all those years ago. She’d complained about how visible the scar on her neck was, and he’d given her the scarf to cover it, telling her that “there is no need to cover anything about you. But if you want something, anything, nothing in the world will keep me from giving it to you.” He fell to his knees, looking up at the empty sky through tear filled eyes, and howled. “Are you satisfied?” He shouted to the stars. “Are you glad? I did it, Ace! I gave you what you wanted, always what you wanted! And now I’m alone.” His voice cracked on the last word. “Again.” 6 months earlier “Tal,” Ace said, laughing as she came down the stairs. “What are you doing?” Talin looked up from the paper he’d been reading. “What? I can read, you know.” She snorted indelicately. “And I can fly. Let me see that.” He handed over the paper, sombering. “You aren’t going to like it.” It was a solemn letter, the statistics of the war in Eastern Taya’rn. Thousands of villages had been destroyed already. And at the head of it was one man. A man they had once called friend, before he’d gone insane. “Einre?” Ace asked incredulously. “You can’t be serious.” Talin shrugged, and she turned, her calm demeanor falling to pieces as she paced. “We have to stop him.” Talin dipped his head. “I knew you’d say that. But, Ace, we can’t fight every battle.” Ace stalked up to them, eyes flashing with a deep anger he rarely saw from her. “You think we should just leave these people to die? Leave them to be murdered by a monster that we helped create?” “No,” Talin said, sighing. “I don’t. But I told you I’d protect you, and someday, we’ll end up in a fight that one of us won’t survive. I don’t want to lose you, Love.” Her gaze softened, and she sighed, sitting on the step next to him. “Oh, Tal. I know. I worry for you too, you know.” He opened his mouth to speak but she cut him off. “This is the last one.” He started. “What?” She smiled, and it was like the sun coming through the clouds on the coldest day of winter. “This is the last one.” She placed a hand to her stomach. “I want the world our child will grow up in to be safe, but I don’t want to fight forever. We’re part of the reason Einre is doing so much evil, and so we’ll stop him. But after that, we’re done. We’ll raise our family. Together.” He looked at her, eyes misty. “Thank you, Ace.” She just shook her head. “This is as much for me as it is for you. You’ll make an incredible father, someday.” Then she took a breath, and was all business once more. “But if we’re going to have a chance at stopping him, then we’re going to need an edge. “I’m going to give you my magic.” Edited April 28, 2023 by Edema Ruh 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Edema Rue Posted May 1, 2023 Author Report Share Posted May 1, 2023 I wrote more! I'm having too much fun with this pair of characters, Talin and Ace. If anyone cares to have it, here's their first meeting Spoiler Several years earlier Talin turned, and saw an angel. He saw it in the way she walked, saw it in her eyes. He knew, without a doubt, that he had found a being above humanity, a being chained down to a world where she did not belong. She was young, and free, and innocent. She was pure, and joyful, and alive. He wasn’t the only one who noticed it. Stars, half the ballroom seemed to be in awe of her. She looked like a queen in her court. A passing courtesan noticed him staring. “The little devil’s caught another one,” he murmured drunkenly. Talin shoved down the urge to attack the man, instead catching the sleeve of a nearby servant. “Who is she?” He asked. He didn’t need to specify who. The wiry man swallowed nervously. “I’m not sure anyone knows, M’Lord. She’s a traveler, from Western Taya’rn.” “Interesting…” Talin murmured, waving the servant away. He blinked, catching himself. He wasn’t here to socialize with high society. He had an assassin to catch. And yet…the assassin had evaded him so far, and standing here would do nothing. This job wasn’t worth ignoring such a person, was it? The next thing he knew, he was standing next to her. He froze. What did he say? How did he start a conversation with someone like her? Idiot. No woman wants to hear the same things she’s heard a thousand times before, even if they’re true. His eldest sister’s words, from long ago. He hadn’t thought about her in years, since her advice had never been relevant to him. But now…how did he make himself different from any of the other men around her? That was when he saw it. The slightest rise in her sleeve, the careful folds of her dress. The thick cloak. All details that were, at first glance, easily hidden by her cheerful smile and kind eyes. But up close, there was no denying it. This woman—this girl—was the assassin he was looking for. And with that thought, he realized how to make himself different from the others. He ducked by her, and as he passed her ear, he whispered, “Your daggers are beautiful.” She started, turning back towards him. “How did you–?” He just grinned, turning away. Stars. He walked out to the gardens, not looking back to see if she was following. He found the host of the party on a bench, exactly where he’d said he’d be. “Found your assassin,” Talin muttered, giving him a respectful bow. “Excellent,” the man said, giving him a nod. “Did you take care of him?” “Actually,” Talin said, “she is the belle of the ball. I would put a drug in her drink, if I were you, then have a guard carry her to ‘bed’. I would be…interested in questioning her.” The man chuckled wryly. “All right, mercenary. You’ll get your pay, and you’ll get a chance to flirt with your girl.” Talin flushed, but nodded. He had learned long ago that arguing with the one who was paying you was never a good idea. *** Ace woke up with a brutal headache. She groaned, trying to remember what had happened. She was on a job…and then that man, the one who had looked infatuated at first, and then brought up daggers. What had happened next? She’d danced, then been offered a drink and accepted it…that was it. They’d drugged her drink! Curses. She’d never get paid now. Ace sat up, blinking. She was in a cell, somewhat unsurprisingly. There was a tiny window, but even if she could somehow get the bars off, it was high and tiny. Her weapons were gone. Bother. How would she get out…she froze, feeling someone’s eyes on her. Looking through the bars, she saw the man from before. “You.” “Me,” he agreed. “And you.” “I didn’t want to get caught, you know.” “And I didn’t want to catch you. But you know the drill; catch the villain, get your money.” Ace blushed. How did he know she was just working for money? “Will you tell me your name, stranger?” “I’m Talin,” he said easily. “You?” “Ace,” she replied, eyeing the lock. Could she pick it? She’d never picked a lock before. It couldn’t be all that hard, could it? A man came through the door, followed by several guards. “We’ll take her from here, mercenary,” he said, eyes on her. He handed Talin a bulging purse. Talin pocketed it, then turned to the man and his guards. “Well, I thank you for such generous pay, but unfortunately, I already have a new job.” The lord’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about? Get out of my home.” Talin shook his head. “Ah, but you see, Lord Harriway, I’m being paid to free her.” In a flash, he held a pair of daggers. Nice daggers, better even than hers. “Do you want to make this easy, or hard?” Lord Harriway stared for a moment, dumbfounded, then chuckled. “How easily you turn traitor, just for a little coin. Name your price, and I’ll double it.” Talin hesitated, just for a moment, and Ace knew immediately what he was thinking. He could name any price, and get enough money to live comfortably for a very long time. And Ace knew something the lord didn’t; no one was paying to get her out. Her employers wouldn’t care if she never returned, and no one else knew she existed. “I’m afraid you can’t do that.” Ace started. That was…unexpected. “You see, she is my price.” Lord Harriway scowled. “Fine,” he muttered. “Take the wretch. But you’ll get no more coin from me.” Talin grinned, tucking his daggers away. “I wasn’t expecting to.” Ace still felt dazed when, minutes later, she was outside the keep. “I would’ve gotten out on my own,” she said accusingly. “I know,” Talin said quickly. “But I’ve been in that position before, and breaking out of prison is always a pain.” “Why didn’t you just accept his money?” Ace asked curiously. There was no reason for him to ignore the offer, unless the fool thought she was going to stay with him because he freed her. Talin was quiet for a moment, and she started to wonder if he hadn’t heard. Finally, he sighed. “We have to look out for each other, us mercenaries. Us magic-users. No one else is going to do it.” “How did you know–the daggers.” He nodded, mouth tilting up. “Your magic is raw, and easy to spot. Find a teacher. I don’t want to see someone with talent like yours get lost, or die, because there’s no one to help you.” Somehow, Ace got the sense that he wasn’t talking about her anymore. “No matter. Good luck. Maybe our paths will cross again someday.” And just like that, he was gone. This man who’d saved her, a mercenary who asked for nothing in return. A man like no one she’d ever met before, and like no one she’d ever meet again. 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
The Wandering Wizard Posted May 1, 2023 Report Share Posted May 1, 2023 Yes! It has infected you too! ^_^ I like this very much! Very good writing Aes! 0 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Edema Rue Posted May 1, 2023 Author Report Share Posted May 1, 2023 Thank you ...I've always hated romance. But...storm it here we are. 0 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Edema Rue Posted May 3, 2023 Author Report Share Posted May 3, 2023 ...I can't stop doing this. I dunno if it's healthy or not, but writing depressing fictional scenes instead of depressing real scenes is working so far! So...have more! (my emotions were in a fun place when I wrote this, if you can't tell.) Spoiler Present “More beer,” Talin growled to a passing barmaid. “The strongest you’ve got.” He’d had several tankards already tonight. Something deep inside him told him he’d had too much. He didn’t care. The girl flinched and hurried into the kitchen, looking nervous. A moment later, the innkeeper stepped out, wiping his hands on his apron. “Eh, M’Lord, we’ve a strict rule on drink. Ye’ve had too much already tonight. I’d suggest making my way to bed, eh?” The man chuckled, but he looked afraid, and rightfully so. “Beer.” Talin said quietly, looking him in the eye. The man flinched. “Right away, Sir.” Once, Talin would’ve been embarrassed at how he’d treated the man. Of course, back then he’d never have been seen at a place like this, never have been so drunk. But back then, life had mattered. When they’d first found him after Einre’s death, they’d had to drag him away from her body. He’d been too weak to resist. For weeks after, they’d been patient with him. They saw a hero, the savior of their people, morning his lost love. They accepted him, because to them, he was just like them; a victim of a monster. How could they possibly understand how much more than that it was? How could they possibly understand that the real hero was the one who had died that day? That he was left alive to rot, and the one who was full of life was stuck in the ground? They couldn’t. They could never understand. And after a few weeks of his hiding himself in drinks, they’d grown tired of him. So he’d left, run off. No one had even tried to look for him; after a few half-hearted explanations of how he had things to take care of, the people had been satisfied to keep the memory of a hero. No one would remember Ace. No one, that is, but him. It was as he’d said the first time they’d met; no one would take care of them, so they had to take care of themselves. And that was the solitary reason he was still alive; for years, he had been living for her. Now, it was all he knew how to do. If he died, then she would truly be gone from this world. These were the thoughts that filled his bleary mind. He cursed his power for keeping him from getting well and truly drunk. It burned away the haze, even has he took another swig. The only true rest, the only real escape, was sleep. But with sleep came the nightmares, and so he stayed awake as much as he could. But tonight, there was no more putting it off, so he finished his mug, then clanked it down in the counter and walked smoothly towards the stairs. *** Talin opened his eyes, feeling the sun warm on his face. He stretched, a faint popping sound coming from his back. Looking around, he saw a small farmhouse and an apple orchard. A young woman, perhaps 16, walked out of the orchard, hand in hand with a boy of about 7. The girl smiled, waving. She looked familiar. “Ace?” He gasped, amazed. But no…something was wrong. Her face was too round, and she was shorter. She laughed, and the little boy did too. At the sound of their laughter, an older woman stepped out of the house, wiping her her hands on an apron. “Hi, kids!” She called. “What’d your grandpa do this time?” “He thought sister was you!” The boy called excitedly, then dissolved into laugher again. The older girl and woman laughed too. “Oh, Tal.” The woman said, coming to stand next to him. “I’m not nearly that beautiful, love.” The young woman blushed, and Talin smiled up at Ace sheepishly. “Yes, you are. But who’s this?” “This is our granddaughter, Aelia, and our grandson Toln,” Ace said, ever patient. “You know who they are.” “Oh, right,” Talin recalled. “How are the orchards?” The little boy went into a long story about a snake he’d found, and Talin sat back, at peace. A thousand little memories filled his mind: he and Ace had a son, Dieln. They’d raised him together on this little farm. When he’d grown, he’d built his own house nearby with his wife. These were his children. The little moments, Talin’s favorite moments, filled his head. Dieln’s first steps. The three of them planting their garden together as little Dieln put mud in Ace’s hair. Teaching their child all the pleasures of life, and that, more than anything, love brought the most powerful joy. Ace trying, and failing, to learn to cook. The day that Dieln had decided he was old enough to join a passing army, to defend their country. The resulting talk; Ace and Talin had showed their numerous scars, spoken of the pain. They’d sparred together, showing their son a part of their lives he had never seen, never imagined. Then asked if he still wanted to go. When he’d said yes, and they joined as well to protect him. How quickly the war had ended when the opposing side had heard that Talin and Ace were fighting. The awe with which Dieln had watched them, and the way he never again picked a fight with them. The sorrows, and the joys. The successes, and the failures. It wasn’t always a happy life, but it was full. Complete. And they were always together, always the family that neither of them had had. They’d grown old together, at this little farmhouse. Paradise. The sun faded, and Talin frowned, standing up. Suddenly he was somewhere else, and the false memories faded. He was standing next to…next to a pile of rubble, a corpse on either side. One a man, one a woman. One a villain, one a hero. One an enemy, one a lover. Both, dead. “Do you see the life we could have lived?” A voice shouted from the clouds. Ace’s voice. “I never got to be a mother. Never got to live. Why didn’t you save me?” That voice…that voice cut him, down to his soul. It condemned him. It was filled with pain and rage, with callousness and contempt. “You said…you said to let you go!” He shouted back. “You said you would love me more for saving them!” Even to his ears, the argument sounded feeble. “And you listened? Did you ever really love me, Tal?” The nickname mocked him. “Please,” he whispered. “Don’t call me that.” “And why not? Why should I listen to you, after you let me die?” “I…I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Ace. If I could go back and change it, I would!” There was no response. After all, though the dead may condemn the living, their world is completely different from our own, and they do not live on our world. Not anymore. *** Talin woke up covered in sweat. That dream…it was different than the other nightmares. It hurt. Stars, but it hurt. Reality came crashing back down. He and Ace would never have a family. They would never raise a child, never have grandchildren, never have a moment of peace together. She was gone. He had robbed her of her life, robbed her of her chance to be a mother. If he’d never come into her life, she would still be alive today. He fell to the floor and wept. 0 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Edema Rue Posted May 6, 2023 Author Report Share Posted May 6, 2023 (edited) Well storm it all, I’m still going with Talin and Ace! So to anyone who wants it (@The Wandering Wizard, I think you're the only one who reads these ) The argument: Spoiler Talin stood, shaking. “I don’t care.” he snapped. “So stars above, stop acting like I should.” Ace glared back. “You’re only mad because you know I’m right,” she said. Despite her angry expression, she spoke quietly. He’d never heard her raise her voice, not once. “No, you’re not. You’re arrogant. You’ve never been able to accept when you’re wrong.” She took a breath, ever patient. “Tal, I–” “No!” He shouted. “Shut up. Shut up! Don’t you understand? This whole country is doomed, and it’s your fault.” She paled. “Hundreds, maybe thousands, are going to die, and it will be your fault. And you stand here, calm and uncaring.” Her gaze darkened for just a moment. Still, she did not yell, and Talin found himself wanting to see how far he could push her, how far he could make her go before she snapped. “Who are you to talk about not caring?” She whispered. “At least I tried. At least I wanted to help them!” Talin shook his head, disgusted. For all her bravado, she was still just a little girl. “Your intentions don’t matter. Fool. They never have.” She flinched back, looking hurt. “You just aren’t strong enough. You’re too weak. You always have been. Always will be. There is nothing about you that makes you special, makes you any different than–” any different than Elya. “Any different than any other worthless farm girl. Nothing makes you worth helping. You have nothing to offer me.” Ace was trembling now, but not from rage. She looked close to tears. He didn’t care. If the stupid girl was sensitive enough to fall apart at any little insult, he didn’t want to be anywhere near her. “You’re wrong,” Ace said, weak but determined. “I have magic. I can fight. You’ll see, Tal. You have seen.” Talin laughed loudly. “Your magic is pathetic, and your fighting is sloppy.” He waved a hand, and she was thrown backwards by an invisible force. “You just can’t accept the truth, can you? You aren’t even strong enough to be a villain. You’re just..,there. Alive. Not helping anyone, because you can’t, and not hurting anyone, because you fancy yourself a hero.” He spat on the ground near her face. “You aren’t an ace. You’re not a king or a queen, either. You’re a dice with no pips, a card with no number. Useless. Go home.” He sneered. “If you can find one.” He left her there, crying in the dust. Alone. Broken. Empty. Ace: Spoiler Ace was 14 when she learned she could use magic. She didn’t tell anyone. She knew what being a magic user meant; being an outcast, living the life of a mercenary, regardless of age or gender. It was custom. No, it was stronger than that. It was the undisputed truth. Magic-users didn’t have families. They didn’t have homes, or nations. As soon as they were discovered, they were sent on their way. Most people did their best to avoid magic-users. No one wanted to have one around for long, and so they traveled from employer to employer. It wasn’t by any means logical, but the world was rarely a logical place, and custom could not be changed. As a result, Ace struggled to keep her magic hidden in her small town. But magic was a powerful thing, and Ace’s was stronger than most. Magic demanded recognition. It demanded freedom. It demanded blood. As a result, after less than a month of trying to keep this strange new power inside, it couldn’t be contained any longer. It happened while she was making breakfast. Tea was heating over the fire, and she was kneading bread. Her father and brother, Drewn had just come in from milking the cows, and her mother was nursing her baby sister. She felt it bubbling up inside of her, felt the warmth so strong it burned. She stumbled, and her mother looked over, concerned. “I don’t…I don’t feel so good.” She mumbled. Her father stood up, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Take a walk, Ann. The fresh air will be good for you.” “Mmm,” she said, starting towards the door. “I’ll go with her,” Drewn said, standing up. “Thanks,” Ace murmured. They’d made it down the road, nearly to the general store, before he asked the obvious question. “What’s wrong, Ace?” She smiled at the nickname. “I’m…I’m not sure,” she lied. “I just…I feel something inside. Something burning.” For a moment, she almost wanted to tell him. She could tell her brother anything. She knew that. But…but what if she was wrong? So she said nothing. He smiled, and to her young, tired mind, he looked like a hero, the morning sun behind him as he leaned on a blossoming tree. “Okay. I’m sure you’ll be fine, yeah?” “Yeah,” she said, closing her eyes. The warmth came over her again, there was heat, burning heat, overpowering heat, and then… She heard a scream, a terrified scream. “Ace!” The next thing she knew, she was sitting in a pile of ashes, unsure how she’d gotten there. Next to her was a smoldering tree stump. Beyond that…what had happened? It looked like a mythical dragon had burned the ground for miles in every direction. But dragons weren’t real. What else could do a thing like this though? She looked away from the tree, and saw a pile of bones, with muscles and ligaments still attached in places. An arm was reaching towards her, as if to comfort her. She turned away from the gruesome sight, sickened. She wandered, unsure where she was going. Eventually, she came to a small farmhouse. At least, what remained of it. Even the stone foundation appeared to have melted. How…how had she survived? There were more bones here. All throughout the place, she found only bones and ashes. Bones and ashes. She was reborn in a place of bones and ashes. Eventually, she came to the edge of the burned place. She didn’t notice the unnaturally straight line between the black and the green. She didn’t look back to the place she had once called home, didn’t remember that she had called it home. Ace just walked, walked for hours, walked for days. Her mind, bleary, her heart, empty. Eventually, she came to a village. She was met with suspicion. She held up her hand in greeting, and they ran. She looked at it, confused. Her nails were a deep black that glistened faintly purple where the light struck. How strange. Was that the regular color of nails? No. Then the knowledge came, and she gasped. She was a magic user, one who had recently done something terrible, maybe even taken a life. But if she’d done something so bad, then why couldn’t she remember it? And why couldn’t she care? If anyone has feedback or recommendations or something you want me to write (with these characters or others) please give me them!! Edited May 7, 2023 by Edema Ruh 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Edema Rue Posted May 17, 2023 Author Report Share Posted May 17, 2023 Family: Spoiler There’s a girl. A girl who’s quit everything she’s tried. A girl looking for a home, but every home she’s found seems to be torn away as soon as she recognizes it for what it is. The girl is strong, but she’s tired. The girl is confused and lonely. The girl has no idea what she wants, only that she hopes to find peace. The girl cares too much, tries to hard, and falls so much farther because of it. The girl gives her heart to everything she does, even though she knows she won’t stay for long. There’s a boy. The boy has always been strong. He rarely has to work at anything. But he’s forgotten how to care. He never gives his heart to anything or anyone, and so he never falls and never hurts. He wishes he had friends. He doesn’t know how to make them. He works all day because if he makes enough money, he can go on a trip with strangers. And then he won’t have to keep being the person that he can’t change. And then he’ll be happy. There’s a mother. A woman who works so hard for children who will never care enough to thank her. The woman wants to bring them joy and bliss, but they’ve never felt so out of her control. The woman doesn’t know how to help them, just that she loves them more than she could ever love herself. A thousand worries press on her mind. She worries for the girl. She worries for the boy. She worries for a child too young to worry for himself. There’s a father. A father who works even harder than the mother, works to give the children opportunities that he never had. He works day and night and day and night until the girl and the boy barely remember he’s there. He does it for them. He loves them, even though he knows they barely remember how to care for him. He doesn’t mind. Family matters most. There’s a grandmother, an old woman who doesn’t even remember the name of her daughter. She loves her just the same. Her love is the most pure and powerful, though she hasn’t worked in years. She is old and tired, but trusts the will of God, even as her mind and body fall apart around her. They’re a family, even if they barely remember the meaning of the word. Blood binds them strongly, and faint strings of love are present as well. A wind connects them as well, though they’ll never know it. The wind passes the girl, absorbed in a book, who closes her eyes and breathes deeply, imagining the wind is full of the scents of dreams. It blows past her to the boy, flinching against the verbal tirade of a displeased customer. He brushes the hair out of his eyes and keeps talking. It spins, twirls, and reaches the mother. She’s covered in mud. She looks up, wipes her sweat, and continues planting flowers that will never grow. It rises up, up, up to an office building. It reaches the father, sitting at his desk. He looks around, then mutters about leaky windows. Finally, the wind reaches the grandmother. She smiles, though she can’t remember why. The sun is warm. A family, that’s what they are. Each has their secrets. Each has their dreams. Someday, maybe they’ll share them. That is the wish of the mother. 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
The Wandering Wizard Posted May 18, 2023 Report Share Posted May 18, 2023 3 hours ago, Edema Ruh said: Family: Reveal hidden contents There’s a girl. A girl who’s quit everything she’s tried. A girl looking for a home, but every home she’s found seems to be torn away as soon as she recognizes it for what it is. The girl is strong, but she’s tired. The girl is confused and lonely. The girl has no idea what she wants, only that she hopes to find peace. The girl cares too much, tries to hard, and falls so much farther because of it. The girl gives her heart to everything she does, even though she knows she won’t stay for long. There’s a boy. The boy has always been strong. He rarely has to work at anything. But he’s forgotten how to care. He never gives his heart to anything or anyone, and so he never falls and never hurts. He wishes he had friends. He doesn’t know how to make them. He works all day because if he makes enough money, he can go on a trip with strangers. And then he won’t have to keep being the person that he can’t change. And then he’ll be happy. There’s a mother. A woman who works so hard for children who will never care enough to thank her. The woman wants to bring them joy and bliss, but they’ve never felt so out of her control. The woman doesn’t know how to help them, just that she loves them more than she could ever love herself. A thousand worries press on her mind. She worries for the girl. She worries for the boy. She worries for a child too young to worry for himself. There’s a father. A father who works even harder than the mother, works to give the children opportunities that he never had. He works day and night and day and night until the girl and the boy barely remember he’s there. He does it for them. He loves them, even though he knows they barely remember how to care for him. He doesn’t mind. Family matters most. There’s a grandmother, an old woman who doesn’t even remember the name of her daughter. She loves her just the same. Her love is the most pure and powerful, though she hasn’t worked in years. She is old and tired, but trusts the will of God, even as her mind and body fall apart around her. They’re a family, even if they barely remember the meaning of the word. Blood binds them strongly, and faint strings of love are present as well. A wind connects them as well, though they’ll never know it. The wind passes the girl, absorbed in a book, who closes her eyes and breathes deeply, imagining the wind is full of the scents of dreams. It blows past her to the boy, flinching against the verbal tirade of a displeased customer. He brushes the hair out of his eyes and keeps talking. It spins, twirls, and reaches the mother. She’s covered in mud. She looks up, wipes her sweat, and continues planting flowers that will never grow. It rises up, up, up to an office building. It reaches the father, sitting at his desk. He looks around, then mutters about leaky windows. Finally, the wind reaches the grandmother. She smiles, though she can’t remember why. The sun is warm. A family, that’s what they are. Each has their secrets. Each has their dreams. Someday, maybe they’ll share them. That is the wish of the mother. That is beautiful and it explains a lot that is never seen. 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Edema Rue Posted May 18, 2023 Author Report Share Posted May 18, 2023 Thanks! 0 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Edema Rue Posted June 3, 2023 Author Report Share Posted June 3, 2023 Ok well it’s been a while since I’ve really written a lot. I’ve been super busy and don’t have enough inspiration. If someone has a prompt or anything for me to write, I’d appreciate it! In the meantime, here’s a super short little thing I did that has no home but exists because it does. Enjoy! Traitors: Spoiler There are things that people in every profession learn, things that no one else knows. Little things. Sometimes, the secrets were vile techniques that take years and years to perfect; how to break every bone in someone’s body without ever piercing the skin. How to make someone look nearly dead while, in actuality, they’re barely hurt. How to make people feel extreme pain without causing any real damage. How to do what you’re told. How to stop feeling. How to subdue loyalty to everyone but yourself. These are the secrets that only a traitor can learn. Traitors learn things that other people can never understand. They learn the words to say to make the would-be heroes turn back. They have a power stronger than even the greatest enemies. Why? Because no enemy can ever match the power of a single traitor. Love is more powerful than loathing; loathing can fade to bitterness or annoyance, but love? When love fades to familiarity or fondness, it hurts. Every time. And traitors…traitors are to love what a wolf is to hens. Traitors are to heroes what logic is to dreams. They know things. They have knowledge that those who’ve never shattered a heart can’t even begin to imagine. They have power, power to stop or to motivate. They can be anything they want to be. But there is a cost for all knowledge. There are wounds that must be opened in order to learn it. And some scars never fade. 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Edema Rue Posted June 5, 2023 Author Report Share Posted June 5, 2023 A fun little all dialogue death scene because I wanted to describe home and didn’t have the energy for a poem. Spoiler “I want you to take me home.” “Sir? Shall I call for a carriage?” “No, no. There’s no time, and it would not suffice anyway. Words, boy. Find your words and take me home.” “I…home. Home is where your family is. It’s where you have peace, where you can be alone without being lonely.” “You can do better than that, son. Am I worth so little to you?” “Home is familiarity. Home is cool water down a dry throat. Home is a well of strength to draw on when the rest of the world falls apart. Home is a star in the sky that never moves. Home is the people who are always there. Home is love that never ends. Home…home is a place where you need not be happy or sad, angry or peaceful, solemn or joking; home is a place where you may simply be.” “Good…good. Take…take me there, boy. What does…what does it sound like, smell like, look like? Q-quickly, now.” “Home is a simple cottage on a hill, a calming sight at the end of a long, hard road. It’s a place to remove boots and gloves and cloak, a place to massage blistered feet amid the laughter of children. It’s the smell of a warm meal and burning wood. It’s the stair that always creaks, the door that never shuts quite right. Home is flaws and perfection twisted and molded together until all that remains is raw, untempered beauty. Home is an old lute playing an older tune…sir?” “Thank you, my boy. Th-thank you…thank…” “Master? No. Please, Sir. Please, no. No!” “I’m…I’m going h-home.” “You are home. Please.” “Live…l-l-live well…live well, Son.” 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Edema Rue Posted July 3, 2023 Author Report Share Posted July 3, 2023 Riding Alone: Spoiler A car door slamming shut. An engine coughing, then coming to life. The car driving down the road, and then it’s gone. A bird cheeps. You are alone. Pull on your gloves; pick up your bike. Put on your sunglasses, your helmet. Earbuds in ears, music loud enough to drown out the silence. Feet on your pedals. Alone, you begin to ride. The world is a different place when you’re alone. You see things that would otherwise be ignored, hear sounds you’ve never noticed, smell flowers and rain, taste blood and dust. There is a peace, a balance, a center that simply cannot be found when you’re lost in a crowd. You are alone, but you aren’t lonely. Turn the corner, look for the address, and…there. People are everywhere. There’s music, food. Laughter, light, chaos. So many people. Get off your bike. Take off your helmet, gloves, sunglasses. People call your name, beckon you to join them. You are no longer alone. Surrounded by people, by the noise that drowns out any hope of silence. It should be right. It should be where you belong. And yet it isn’t. Here in this crowd of people, you feel more alone than when you were the only person on a mountain. You are not alone, but you are so very lonely. There are many paths that a mind can take, when lonely in a crowd or alone on a mountain. On the mountain, one may begin to be afraid. They’ll lose hope. Alone, with nothing to push them to ride faster, they’ll walk more hills, stop more often. There’s no sound of tires on gravel behind, propelling them faster. There’s no one ahead to catch. There’s no reason to do more than is comfortable, no reason to push through the pain. Riding alone, they lose their reason. And in the crowd, it’s not the resolve that weakens, but the soul. Seeing others sing songs one doesn’t know, seeing people laughing at jokes they don’t understand, seeing a friendship that they want so badly but just can’t seem to find. Perhaps it’s the lack of control; alone is a choice. Lonely is a prison. Control is everything. Surrounded by people, they are the most alone they’ve ever felt, and there is nothing they can do to change that. Lost in the emotions that fill their hearts, how can they expect to think rationally? How can they expect to think calmly when every part of their mind is lying to them? It’s easier with hindsight. When calmly and callously looking back, there are voices in the mind, voices that promise it’s okay. “I am more than this moment. I am more than this minute, this hour, this day. I am more than this bike, more than this person who sits alone in a crowd. I am not defined by this second of pain.” The voices soothe the agitated wounds, help them find peace with the moments that can’t seem to go right, with the groups they will never truly belong to. But the voices that come only when the mind is controlled make no difference when the lonely moments come again. When the pain returns, there’s nothing to do but hold on and hope one can make it through. Alone, but not lonely, there is peace. There is power. There is safety. Alone, but not lonely, means you are home. Lonely, but not alone, there is terror. There is weakness. There is danger. Lonely, but not alone, means you are lost. Each moment builds a life, but it takes thousands of moments to change one. The millions of moments of joy can be completely forgotten when faced with the power of a single moment of pain. The pain is not forever, indeed, it’s often shorter than the peace. There are moments of belonging, moments where one is neither alone nor lonely. Remember, oh, remember those moments. In the heat of battle, remember the joy. When the loneliness grows too strong to bear, do not forget the friends that are just out of sight. Wish and work for impossibilities. Find hope. Remember, and you will never be lost. Apology: Spoiler I don’t want to make you angry The way you make me angry. I don’t want to make you hurt The way you make me hurt. I don’t want to remind you of your pains The way you remind me of mine. I don’t want to make you feel a fool The way you make me feel one. I don’t want revenge; I don’t want to be angry. I don’t want to hurt To hurt you or me. I don’t want to be a fool. I don’t want to be a rebel. I would never want to cause you pain. You work so hard for me. You only try to help. You always try to help. You are a hero. You are an angel. But you make me hurt. And I don’t want to hurt. But you make me angry. And I don’t want to be angry. But you make me feel a fool. And I don’t want to be a fool. You say You know best. You say I should do this; avoid that. You say That you know what I want. You say That you know what I can do. You say That there is hope. You say You are trying. I know. But you are no expert And I am but an amateur. We both need to learn. But while you are learning You make me hurt. And I don’t want to hurt. I should be better. I should be stronger. I should be kinder. I should be more like you. But you make me hurt. And I don’t want anyone to hurt. But I hurt you, too. And It felt good. I made you angry. And in the riot of emotions, I was glad. Because if I made you hurt, Maybe you’d understand. Because if I made you angry, Maybe I wouldn’t hurt. Because if I didn’t hurt, Then all would be well. I was wrong. I hurt an angel. And now I hurt more. And now you hurt more. And now no one is okay. I would never hurt an angel. But I hurt you. Because you aren’t always an angel. Sometimes, I look at you and see a devil. You breathe blistering fire as you speak. And so I breathe fire back. But angels can’t be devils. And you are an angel. So maybe, The devil Is me. Lots of things make me hurt. Though none as much as you. Because some things don’t make me hurt. Some things make me smile. And I see you get angry when I smile. And even if you’re only protecting me, An angel, fighting the darkness of hell, You hurt the things that make me smile. And I want to smile. I don’t want a lot of things. I don’t really know what I want. But neither do you. Even the greatest angel is not God. I want to smile. But you hurt the things that make me smile. And you hurt me. And I hurt you. And I’m sorry. I don’t know why. But I’m confused. Because angels don’t fight off good. But bad shouldn’t make me smile. And I don’t want to want bad. I have a lot to learn, But you do, too. Even angels need to grow. Just don’t expect a demon like me To be as good as you. Because that makes me hurt. And I don’t want to hurt. If you read those, you probably need context for both of those. too bad. You don’t get any 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
The Wandering Wizard Posted July 3, 2023 Report Share Posted July 3, 2023 29 minutes ago, Edema Ruh said: Riding Alone: Hide contents A car door slamming shut. An engine coughing, then coming to life. The car driving down the road, and then it’s gone. A bird cheeps. You are alone. Pull on your gloves; pick up your bike. Put on your sunglasses, your helmet. Earbuds in ears, music loud enough to drown out the silence. Feet on your pedals. Alone, you begin to ride. The world is a different place when you’re alone. You see things that would otherwise be ignored, hear sounds you’ve never noticed, smell flowers and rain, taste blood and dust. There is a peace, a balance, a center that simply cannot be found when you’re lost in a crowd. You are alone, but you aren’t lonely. Turn the corner, look for the address, and…there. People are everywhere. There’s music, food. Laughter, light, chaos. So many people. Get off your bike. Take off your helmet, gloves, sunglasses. People call your name, beckon you to join them. You are no longer alone. Surrounded by people, by the noise that drowns out any hope of silence. It should be right. It should be where you belong. And yet it isn’t. Here in this crowd of people, you feel more alone than when you were the only person on a mountain. You are not alone, but you are so very lonely. There are many paths that a mind can take, when lonely in a crowd or alone on a mountain. On the mountain, one may begin to be afraid. They’ll lose hope. Alone, with nothing to push them to ride faster, they’ll walk more hills, stop more often. There’s no sound of tires on gravel behind, propelling them faster. There’s no one ahead to catch. There’s no reason to do more than is comfortable, no reason to push through the pain. Riding alone, they lose their reason. And in the crowd, it’s not the resolve that weakens, but the soul. Seeing others sing songs one doesn’t know, seeing people laughing at jokes they don’t understand, seeing a friendship that they want so badly but just can’t seem to find. Perhaps it’s the lack of control; alone is a choice. Lonely is a prison. Control is everything. Surrounded by people, they are the most alone they’ve ever felt, and there is nothing they can do to change that. Lost in the emotions that fill their hearts, how can they expect to think rationally? How can they expect to think calmly when every part of their mind is lying to them? It’s easier with hindsight. When calmly and callously looking back, there are voices in the mind, voices that promise it’s okay. “I am more than this moment. I am more than this minute, this hour, this day. I am more than this bike, more than this person who sits alone in a crowd. I am not defined by this second of pain.” The voices soothe the agitated wounds, help them find peace with the moments that can’t seem to go right, with the groups they will never truly belong to. But the voices that come only when the mind is controlled make no difference when the lonely moments come again. When the pain returns, there’s nothing to do but hold on and hope one can make it through. Alone, but not lonely, there is peace. There is power. There is safety. Alone, but not lonely, means you are home. Lonely, but not alone, there is terror. There is weakness. There is danger. Lonely, but not alone, means you are lost. Each moment builds a life, but it takes thousands of moments to change one. The millions of moments of joy can be completely forgotten when faced with the power of a single moment of pain. The pain is not forever, indeed, it’s often shorter than the peace. There are moments of belonging, moments where one is neither alone nor lonely. Remember, oh, remember those moments. In the heat of battle, remember the joy. When the loneliness grows too strong to bear, do not forget the friends that are just out of sight. Wish and work for impossibilities. Find hope. Remember, and you will never be lost. Apology: Hide contents I don’t want to make you angry The way you make me angry. I don’t want to make you hurt The way you make me hurt. I don’t want to remind you of your pains The way you remind me of mine. I don’t want to make you feel a fool The way you make me feel one. I don’t want revenge; I don’t want to be angry. I don’t want to hurt To hurt you or me. I don’t want to be a fool. I don’t want to be a rebel. I would never want to cause you pain. You work so hard for me. You only try to help. You always try to help. You are a hero. You are an angel. But you make me hurt. And I don’t want to hurt. But you make me angry. And I don’t want to be angry. But you make me feel a fool. And I don’t want to be a fool. You say You know best. You say I should do this; avoid that. You say That you know what I want. You say That you know what I can do. You say That there is hope. You say You are trying. I know. But you are no expert And I am but an amateur. We both need to learn. But while you are learning You make me hurt. And I don’t want to hurt. I should be better. I should be stronger. I should be kinder. I should be more like you. But you make me hurt. And I don’t want anyone to hurt. But I hurt you, too. And It felt good. I made you angry. And in the riot of emotions, I was glad. Because if I made you hurt, Maybe you’d understand. Because if I made you angry, Maybe I wouldn’t hurt. Because if I didn’t hurt, Then all would be well. I was wrong. I hurt an angel. And now I hurt more. And now you hurt more. And now no one is okay. I would never hurt an angel. But I hurt you. Because you aren’t always an angel. Sometimes, I look at you and see a devil. You breathe blistering fire as you speak. And so I breathe fire back. But angels can’t be devils. And you are an angel. So maybe, The devil Is me. Lots of things make me hurt. Though none as much as you. Because some things don’t make me hurt. Some things make me smile. And I see you get angry when I smile. And even if you’re only protecting me, An angel, fighting the darkness of hell, You hurt the things that make me smile. And I want to smile. I don’t want a lot of things. I don’t really know what I want. But neither do you. Even the greatest angel is not God. I want to smile. But you hurt the things that make me smile. And you hurt me. And I hurt you. And I’m sorry. I don’t know why. But I’m confused. Because angels don’t fight off good. But bad shouldn’t make me smile. And I don’t want to want bad. I have a lot to learn, But you do, too. Even angels need to grow. Just don’t expect a demon like me To be as good as you. Because that makes me hurt. And I don’t want to hurt. If you read those, you probably need context for both of those. too bad. You don’t get any I can guess a little perhaps. Alone but not lonely is indeed very nice. Perhaps just two alone is not lonely as well. Which is better. I don’t know. Perhaps both are needed to be away from the crowds and just too many people. 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Edema Rue Posted July 3, 2023 Author Report Share Posted July 3, 2023 9 hours ago, The Wandering Wizard said: I can guess a little perhaps. Alone but not lonely is indeed very nice. Perhaps just two alone is not lonely as well. Which is better. I don’t know. Perhaps both are needed to be away from the crowds and just too many people. Yeah, I agree. I enjoy being alone, but I hate being lonely. (Surprise!!) It’s hard, because if you spend too much time alone, then with others you’re bound to feel lonely. 0 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Edema Rue Posted July 17, 2023 Author Report Share Posted July 17, 2023 HIIIII hihihihiiiii Ok so this is a lil bit late but I was at BYU writing camp all of last week and I wrote a LOT. Most of it is notes, parts of a book, too dumb to share, or too personal to share, but here’s a decent chunk of stuff. (And it’s all pretty short!) Most of it hasn’t been edited at all, so…sorry about that. 1. Spoiler So maybe you’re right. So maybe all I’ve ever been is naive. So maybe all I’ve ever believed is wrong. What do I care? So my joy is illogical. I would rather be foolishly happy than wisely sad. I’m not mad at you. That’s probably also dumb of me, I’m sure, but I don’t care. I don’t. I’m not sad you’re gone. I was completely indifferent to your existence while you lived; why should it be any different now you don’t? And yet it is different. I read the letter you left on my desk. Mostly out of politeness at first, and yet…and yet. I’ve found myself reading it again and again. I’ve found myself wishing, like you, that we had been friends. And maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m only naive and foolish and everything I have is a fluke. I think you meant your words to change me, to make me into some strange, twisted copy of the person you were. But I’m not, and I never will be. I still feel the sun on my face, the wind on my back. And I still smile. Do you understand that? I can still smile. I’ll remember you, but you aren’t important to me. I’ll keep pieces of you with me, but I’ll never change because of you. I hope the next life treats you better than this one did. Goodbye. 2. Spoiler Beep. Beep. Beep. Love. You were in love. Who were you in love with? A face comes to mind, pure and swee– Beep. You are alone. You have always been alone. No one was ever near you. You’ve always been alone…but you haven’t always been lonely. There was a time, a time before, when– Beep. Rage. There is no other emotion, nothing more than this endless flame of destruction– Beep. Calm. You are at peace, a crystal clear lake seeming energetic when compared with your mind– Beep. You are– Beep. Hope. There is– Beep. Tired. You are so very tired. You want to rest. There is nothing you want more than rest. No…no! There is more than this. There is something you want more. There is someone you want more, someone you can almost remember, someone you loved more than yourself– Beep. No! You struggle, you fight, you work to get free. You can’t stay here, you have to be somewhere…somewhere…why is it so hard to move? Why is it so dark? What is keeping you bound here? Beep. Give up. Beep. There is no hope. Beep. You have no one left to fight for. Beep. They’re all gone. Beep. Your lover is dead. Beep. Beep. Beep. Your thoughts are blank. Beep. You have been remade. You are new. A perfect servant. All you need now is a master. Beep. 3. Spoiler Ani looked over at the small creature beside her. She didn’t want it. She was happy as she was; she had her inn, had her regular customers and the ones she saw only once. This creature wasn’t a part of her routine. He didn’t belong in her story. She had an inn by the harbor. She cooked food, made money, had a friend or two. Scales didn’t belong in her kitchen. The little dragon snorted a puff of smoke as if he could hear her thoughts. Ani glared at him fondly. “I don't want you, Scales.” She told him sternly. She’d been telling him that for years. “You need to find a home. My inn doesn’t take residents.” Keeping a steady eye on her, Scales blew a flame onto the meat in front of him, toasting it to perfection. “Just because you help out doesn’t mean you can stay.” Ani picked up the meat. Deep down, she knew that she’d never kick him out. He belonged here. And, she admitted grudgingly, any story without room for Scales wasn’t one she wanted to be a part of. *** Scales nuzzled Anie awake. She looked small. She used to be big, but now she was small. He didn’t share her bad anymore. “Shoo, you stupid dragon,” Ani said, shoving his head out the window. He did, but as he turned, a loud sound rang out. He blinked. Then he hurt. He roared. He wanted Ani to save him. But she didn’t come. Then there was another loud noise, and a moment later, Scales was on the ground, dead. 4. Spoiler I am a mask. Not a plague mask or a pandemic mask. I am the kind of mask you see at a ball. Elegant and feathered, woven with strands of gold and edged with jewels. I have a perfect pair of strings; I am ready to be worn. Every inch of me is there to disguise, to hide the truth from prying eyes. To place beauty where there is none. To hide ugliness from a world that will rip the weak to pieces. I am a moon. I find a planet to revolve around, something bigger and wiser than me to obey. I spin in perfect circles, glad for my place, but terrified of what would happen should my planet disappear. I am a prison. A place built so caringly, and yet so hated. A place to avoid in conversation. A place where arriving is too terrible to speak of and leaving is too shame-filled to remember. I hold tight to what I love, but for all that I try to keep them close, they stand by their windows and dream of the day they will leave me. And they always find a way to leave. I stay and remain the same, but the world around and inside me is always changing. I am many things. I am a mask, a moon, a prison, and yet I am so much more. And so much less. 5. THE WITCH Spoiler Oh, hello. I didn’t see you there. Come inside, child. Come, and sit, and rest for a while. Oh yes, you like that idea. No, no, don’t worry. I can’t read minds, silly child. Magic isn’t real, silly child. But rest is. And it has been so long since you’ve reasted, hasn’t it? Yes, yes, I thought so. Well, come inside, then. What was that? Oh, of course I live here, darling. I always have. Silly child. Precious child. Child…oh, I se. You don’t see yourself as a child, is that it? That’s okay. You don’t have to understand yourself. I understand you plenty. I understand how very tired you are, I know. I see your heart, silly child. You wish to know how it looks? Very well. It is remarkably colorful. And it’s so uncertain. It is filled with so many emotions, and they all change so quickly. It hurts, doesn’t it? Yes, I see how you hurt. Come, my precious child. Come, stay with me. Come rest, and I will teach peace to your throbbing heart. Oh, my. Mmm. Well now, weren’t you just lovely. Thank you for coming to my home, travelor. You filled me with such warmth, gave me such a taste of naivety. Oh, yes, that taste…foolish child. Didn’t you understand that peace cannot be taught to the living? But you’re at peace now, aren’t you? And oh, you’ve given me such strength. You shouldn’t have trusted so easily. Foolish child. Okay, so that scene ^^ isn’t my favorite, but I’m giving it to you because I then rewrote it as a poem and I like it a lot more, so the contrast is fun. 6. THE WITCH (pOeM ForM) Spoiler Hello, Foolish Child, Hello, Forgotten One, Hello, Weary Traveler, Hello, Throbbing Heart, Hello. Welcome home. You look tired, child. Are you tired, child? You seem lost, child. Are you lost, child? Come inside, child. Oh, Foolish Child, your heart. It aches, does it not? It throbs, My poor child. Your heart whirls, Your heart changes, Your heart wishes, Your heart groans, Your heart sobs. Come rest, precious child. Come sleep, beloved. Come to me. Come to safety. Come to home. Your heart, it aches. I will teach it peace. I will teach it calm. I will give you sleep. I will give you rest. — Ah, Foolish Child Ah, Forgotten One Ah, Weary Traveler. Ah, Empty Heart. Ah. Thank you. Foolish, foolish child. There is no peace In life. There is no rest For the living. You gave me your strength. You gave me your hope. You gave me your blood Flesh And bones. Thank you, Stranger. You should not Have trusted So easily. Goodbye, foolish child. Thank you for the meal. 7. Spoiler Tires grind on gravel beneath a vengeful sun. The gasp of air into desperate lungs. We fought for every inch, we sweated Our payment to the dust below. Cresting the hill, there’s a click of gears. We’d tuck our wings and fall. Tires on gravel as trees lag behind, The birdsong yields to the screaming wind. We rode through scraggly forests, Over endless rocks and drying streams. More certain of our path than A falcon of its prey. Okay, so this next one is probably my favorite thing I wrote at camp. On the last day, we had a lit slam, so we all performed something we’d written. It had to be under 3 minutes, which really isn’t a lot of time. So this went through a LOT of drafts, and I did end up cutting some parts I really liked, but I’m really happy with the end result. 8. POWER Spoiler How, in 3 minutes, do you give a crowd of strangers a piece of your soul and make them understand it? What story do you give them? Something hopeful? Something sharp and painful? It’s a heady feeling, exhilarating, knowing that you are completely in control. But make just one mistake, and your tale will skip over rather than sinking in, leaving your audience unaffected. So there is a growing pressure, too, one that comes with knowing how easy it is to fail. I don’t want to fail. I want to write the words that stick around. I want to build worlds of metaphors and people of myself. I want to ride through life on a wave of success, with tough enough skin to only get stronger from the failure. I want to write. When life reaches its claws into my heart, I want the freedom to escape into the pictures that are my paragraphs and the worlds that are my words. We write! We find power in the letters strung into words formed into sentences twisted into stories all our own. A carefully constructed story has the potential to change a life. Put your words together with enough care and you will create a home for thousands of readers, a path to freedom for dreamers trapped on this mundane world of lonely science. Build villains of your greed and heroes of your wishes. Twist art into stories. Layer stories into epic sagas. Fight dragons and trick demons. End wars and spark revolutions. Fall in love with an angel. Live a thousand lives that are impossible on Earth. That is the power of writing. At least, it is to us. We understand the words, understand the way they can take us home. But the stories we value so highly have been taken and changed and twisted out of shape. The precious words that fill our souls with love and terror and pain have suddenly been subdued, used to describe the most mundane scenes. ‘Traitor’, ‘coward’, ‘monster’. ‘Hero’, ‘warrior’, ‘strong’. These are words that could change a heart, words that could change the world, once. Now, they are but letters strung together. Instead of being too sharp to be used commonly, they are too dull to cut in even the most extreme situations. And when we truly need these words, they’re wasting away. Losing their shine, their luster, the things they might have been, the things they once were. But not to us, and that’s what it is to be a writer, isn’t it? To accept that the world may never truly understand your work, and to accept that that’s okay, because you’ve gotten what you wanted from it; a home. A place of peace. A place away from this world, away from the cheers and the scoffs. And that’s all we really need, because we’re writers. And storm it all, we’re going to write. Aaaaaand yeah! That didn’t end up being as much as I thought, but I hope you enjoy it! Any feedback you give is very much appreciated. <3 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Edema Rue Posted August 3, 2023 Author Report Share Posted August 3, 2023 Ok I have something kinda fun and random today!! This is something I’m writing as a script for a podcast my friends bullied me into doing with them. I took the names out because they’re real humans and I didn’t have the energy to change them, but yeah basically it’s 4 guys, they each have different lines but the beginning and end are all of them together, and there are some fun whisper echoes in the middle. So…yeah! Enjoy, or don’t, or just ignore it I don’t care, but it’s here if you want it! Spoiler (BE A FRIENDLY BARTENDER) Why, hello there. I don’t think we’ve met. You’re awfully young to be around here alone. I admire that. (FADE INTO BEING CREEPY) Come here, dear child. Come here, and listen, for you have yet to discover important truths. You see, dear child, you are being watched. You’re being watched by someone you’ll never know. By someone you can’t defend against. Hiding won’t help you. Hiding is only an embarrassment to the person watching you. Who, you might ask, is this person? How can I never know them? Ah, but now realize. Your pulse is slowing, The sweat on your brow has cooled. Your hands have relaxed. You understand now, you are thinking. Ah, dear, foolish child, you are thinking that we speak of the dead. You believe that you are being watched by some long dead ancestor, is that it? Yes, yes, and that’s such a calming thought, isn’t it? Because the dead can’t hurt you. They can’t do anything to you. At least, not while you live. But that’s not important now, is it? Because we do not speak of the dead. Frightened now, are we? Oh, yes. You are. Your pulse is quickening. Your brow is wet. Your fists are clenched. We speak of something more frightening than any ghost or spirit. We are speaking of you. But that is foolish, you are thinking. How stupid. Why would I be afraid of myself? Because it isn’t yourself. It is, and it isn’t. It’s your body. It’s your memories. It seems like the same person. But you are not the same person at all. You understand that, don’t you, dear child? You feel it. You are a new person every second, Every minute, Every hour, Every day. And you are constantly remembering. And with every memory, you are spying on the you that once was. You are judging the person that you were. You are regretting dozens of choices. Perhaps you are remembering her. She was yours, did you know that? You called her girlfriend. She accepted you. She was yours, and you were hers. The you that lived then was naive. Every you that has been before was a fool. But, dear child, you know better now. Isn’t that right? You’re not naive anymore. Now you know. You aren’t a child anymore. Isn’t that right? Oh, my (Overlap these lines in no particular order) Dear, Sweet, Foolish, Innocent, Hopeful, Lost Child. Every you that will be thinks the same things of you that you think of the you’s that were. You are still a child. But there is nothing wrong with that. Don’t you see? You are young. You still fear small things, things like… Like the dentist. Like wearing contacts. Like school. You fear the small things. And that is a blessing. Because it means there are no big things to fear. (CHANGE TONE HERE: Less creepy, more of a friendly bartender, similar to the beginning). Oh. Ahm. Well then. I really do prattle on now, don’t I? My apologies. It has been some time since I’ve spoken to someone new. Most of the regulars know to ignore me, but you haven’t learned that yet. Well, I’d best let you be then. But first, here. Free drinks, on me. A toast. To the you that was. And the you that is. And to the you that will be. 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Edema Rue Posted September 1, 2023 Author Report Share Posted September 1, 2023 Illegal quadruple post!! I haven't put anything here in a while, but I wrote a cool lil scene while trying to play with a certain character archetype and I'm pretty happy with it! Helpless: Spoiler Astrin shuffled down the hallway, eyes closed behind his blindfold as he tried to discern how many people surrounded him. He could hear someone on his right, someone on his left, but the footsteps blended together. Were there two on each side? Three? They wouldn’t give any prisoner that many guards, let alone him. He guessed 3 total. One in front, one to his left, and one on his right. A door shut loudly behind him, and Astrin stumbled as the one in front jerked the chain and he was pulled forward by his wrists. He felt slack in the chain, and reached up, pulling his blindfold down. He blinked in the suddenly bright room. The guard who had been in front of him now stood near a wall, as did 4 others. The chain was hooked to a metal ring in the floor in front of him. And beyond that was Lasina. Astrin shut his eyes and took a breath. He knew what was coming, but it didn’t stop him from flinching at how broken she sounded. “Why?” Lasina whispered. “Why did you betray us?” Astrin just shook his head, keeping his gaze firmly on the floor. “We trusted you, Rin.” There it was. Trust. He snorted, but still didn’t say anything. “Ah,” Lasina said softly. “How could I forget the…curse.” She turned to the guards. “Out.” One of them protested, and a flame grew over her hands. “I assure you, I am quite capable of handling anything he could do.” When the door shut behind the last guard, Astrin was finally able to speak. “I’m sorry.” Lasina’s hair started to glow. “You’re sorry?! You’re sorry?! How can you say that? I-Ien is dead. He’s dead and it’s your fault.” Astrin raised his head and glared. “You think I don’t know that? He was my best friend, Sina. My brother.” His voice cracked in a way that would have been embarrassing if he’d had any pride left to lose. Lasina’s gaze hardened. “So you do feel. That makes it so much worse. You know exactly what you did and you know how much it hurts. But you still betrayed us. You did it knowing the pain you would cause.” That was his si—that was Lasina. As eloquent as she was dangerous. “I didn’t mean to,” Astrin hissed. “I made a mistake. E-everyone makes mistakes.” He was only trying to convince himself, but Lasina clearly heard emotion he hadn’t meant to share. Lasina’s hair faded, and the flames disappeared from her hands. Her eyes continued to glitter, though, and it took a moment for Astrin to realize she was holding back tears. “I know, Rin, but your mistake killed him and so many others. Heroes can’t make mistakes.” Astrin didn’t remember moving, only being stopped by the end of the chain. He yanked at it, irritated that he couldn’t go farther and furious that Lasina could be so cruelly compassionate. “I’m no hero,” he growled as Lasina took a step back. “Heroes don’t give up. Heroes don’t turn traitor because they’re too weak to continue on. Heroes don’t let their friends—their family—die without even trying to save them.” He spat on the floor. “I’m a human, not a hero.” Lasina took a step forward. Astrin had known her forever, he loved her like a sister, but he found himself afraid as she brushed a lock of dark hair out of his eyes. “Oh, Rin. All heroes are human.” Astrin looked back at her steadily. “But not all humans are heroes. I never fit into this fight like you and Ien. I was only staying for you two, and then I just…had no reason to keep going.” Faint shimmers of light ran through Lasina’s long hair. Her voice shook with anger and a little bit of sorrow. “We weren’t reason enough for you? We felt the hopelessness too, you know. You could’ve talked to us, taken a step back, done anything but betray us. It’s not like you didn’t have options.” Astrin looked down, grinding his teeth. She was right, of course. “You’re a traitor, Rin. And you’ve lost. So the least you can do is tell me why. Please. Out of any love you once had for me, for Ien, just tell me why.” Astrin could have cried. He felt his eyes burning, felt his throat tightening. But to cry was to show a weakness he would never give to Lasina. So he snarled instead. “I’ve never stopped loving you. I would never betray you.” She threw up her hands and turned away. “You’re ridiculous. I shouldn’t have bothered to talk to you.” “No,” Astrin agreed, “but you did. Because even though we don’t always agree, you know that I wouldn’t betray you. You know that I care about you.” Lasina turned back to him, eyes hard but curious. The hardness he recognized from thousands of arguments. The curiosity, though…he realized with a start that she wanted to know him. Not to hurt him, but to befriend him. He and Ien had protected her for years before she’d discovered her magic. But Lasina protected hearts, not bodies. She understood the emotions, and she wanted to help him. Still. All of this flooded into Astrin’s mind in an instant before fading to a dim certainty. He could trust her with anything. She would never take advantage of a crack in his armor, but would instead help him repair it. He stumbled back, eyes wide. He knew Lasina, but suddenly he knew her. It was terrifying. She looked at him, confused, and then she too took a step back, looking afraid. He knew without a doubt that she suddenly knew him the way he knew her. Astrin opened his mouth to say something, anything, and found that he couldn’t. He wasn’t simply inarticulate; there was a…curse was the only good word for what it was, but that sounded like something out of a children’s tale. When more than one person was present, he couldn’t make a sound. (He’d learned, after significant experimentation, that ‘present’ meant about 20 square feet from him in any direction.) The room they were in was large, large enough that no one outside it would affect him. Essentially, someone was here. He looked behind him, but the thick wooden door was still firmly shut. He scanned the room, but saw no one. Lasina, still reeling, finally spoke. “Rin, I…I’m sorry. I’ve been such a fool. Can we…can we try this again?” Astrin didn’t hear her question, distracted as he was by a figure in the corner. He’d missed him at first, and still could only barely see a face peeking out from the shadows. When the stranger saw him watching, he grinned and put a finger to his lips, then grinned wider. Astrin looked back to Lasina, who was studying his face. “Rin, I…please. I get it, now. You’re afraid, not evil. I just couldn’t imagine you afraid of anything,” she hesitated, her eyes showed a hint of her former anger. But only a hint. Mostly, they were filled with love. And pity. Astrin hated pity. “You aren’t a traitor. You’re just a…a coward.” Coward. The word struck Astrin like a knife to the heart. He froze, automatically starting to glare. How dare she. How dare she be right. How dare she see his fear. How dare she know him. But no, no. She wasn’t going to hurt him. She cared about him. Lasina cared. Astrin wanted so badly to continue the conversation, to finally make peace with his friend…no, with his sister. But there was a chance she was in danger. And her safety would always come before her happiness. He met her eyes and nodded. Then he glanced behind her, at the face. Then back to her. Then back to the face. When she still looked confused, he raised his bound hands and pointed to his mouth. Lasina’s eyes lit up with understanding. She started to turn, then hesitated. She stepped to the side, so that she could look behind her without turning away from Astrin completely. As she did, a figure leapt from the shadows and attacked. Lasina started glowing, her powerful sorcery manifesting as scarlet flames that reached towards her attacker. He shot something back, a twisting bar of light that glowed…blue? Astrin had tried very hard to avoid learning about magic, but he’d never seen anything blue before. Clearly, Lasina hadn’t either. She dodged it, twisting her ropes of fire so that they avoided it as well. As they continued fighting, Astrin realized that Lasina was still keeping an eye on him. Being called a coward may have been a knife to the heart, but this mistrust was a thousand times worse. He would rather hear her call him a coward daily, and know it was true, than see the suspicion she was showing him now. He could take being tied up, take being locked in a cell, take all of it. None of it was Lasina directly, even if she’d been the one to give the order. But this…he was her brother. Astrin was supposed to be a shoulder to cry on, a partner on the battlefield. Not the traitor waiting to stab her in the back. He shoved the thoughts out of his mind. Emotions didn’t matter right now. It wasn’t important if he was hurting. He had to fight, had to do what he could to protect his family. Astrin yanked at the chain, twisting his hands in an attempt to get them free, but to no avail. He wished again that he had even the most basic magic, an old wish by now. He racked his brain, racing through his options and discarding them equally fast. He had a knife in his sleeve, but what could it do against such a powerful sorcerer? He looked up. Lasina was panicking. She didn’t panic easily; he had to do something. Astrin slid the small dagger into his hand, trying to line up a shot, when a small voice whispered in his head. What if you hit her? He shook his head, trying to clear it. He didn’t miss. It would be a hard shot, nearly impossible bound as he was, but he wouldn’t hit her. She could die. No! Astrin’s hands were shaking. You are helpless against this power; you’re tied up, you can’t even shout a warning. You’re useless. Redundant. The small voice that could only be his doubts fell silent, but another one continued. You are a just weakness. Nothing more. As he came to the conclusion, he felt a cool sharpness at his throat. “I wouldn’t try anything,” a voice breathed into his ear. “And I’ll be taking that knife, wouldn’t want you to get any ideas, now, would we?” The voice had an airy quality that was somehow less than sane. And then, though Astrin didn’t see anyone, the dagger flew out of his hand and joined the first one at his throat. The sorcerer fighting Lasina noticed and held up his hands. “Stop!” He called. “Or your friend loses his head.” Lasina froze, eyes snapping to Astrin. They widened visibly. “All right! Just don’t hurt him. Please.” Astrin shook his head vigorously, and the knife tightened. What was she doing? She had no use for him. She couldn’t let herself have a weakness. He couldn’t be a weakness. “Good,” the sorcerer purred. “I’m glad you see reason. Now, we’re going to come and have a nice chat, and if you behave, no one gets hurt.” “What do you want?” Lasina snapped. “Who sent you? Coyin?” The sorcerer raised an eyebrow. “Coyin is not your only enemy, little one. Besides,” he said, almost as an afterthought, “if we’d wanted you dead, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” Astrin knew it was true, and clearly Lasina did too. “Then why are you here?” She demanded. “What do you want from us?” The sorcerer didn’t answer. Instead, he strolled slowly towards Astrin, as relaxed as if he were approaching a guest at a party he’d thrown. He stepped right up to Astrin then reached out and gripped his chin. Up close, Astrin could see that the man’s eyes were an even deeper green than…than Ien’s had been. A breath hissed through his teeth, almost involuntarily, and he tried to twist away. Several things happened at once, almost too fast to comprehend. Lasina—poor, powerful Sina—rushed forward, hands blazing. Without even turning, the blue-eyed sorcerer thrust a hand behind him and she flew back and into the wall, where she collapsed. Astrin struggled even more, and the knives pressed harder into his neck. They were sharp enough that he didn’t even realize they had broken skin until he felt a wetness dripping down his chest. He didn’t care. Lasina was on the ground, completely still. “Now,” the sorcerer said. “Are we quite done?” Neither of them responded. Astrin because he couldn’t, and Lasina still hadn’t moved. “Excellent! Now, we really ought to introduce ourselves. I am Thilan. Wraith?” Astrin felt a chill run up his spine as he realized exactly what was behind him. “Selisaaa,” came the raspy whisper. “Yes,” Thilan agreed. “This is Selisa. It has proven quite helpful before, and I trust it will help keep your attention on me.” With those last words, he turned Astrin’s face away from Lasina’s crumpled body and back to him. “She’ll be fine. But there are a few things you need to understand, and so we're going to have a little chat. “First and foremost, your friend…Ien?” Astrin glared, and in response Thilan laughed, then leaned forward until Astrin could feel warm breath in his ear. “He’s alive. And if you do as we say, he’ll stay that way.” Astrin froze, shocked, and Thilan finally let go. He stepped back, suddenly a perfect businessman. “Good! Now, we don’t ask for much. But if you want your friend to live, you need to fix your relationship with your dear sister over there. Can you do that?” When Astrin didn’t answer, Thilan sighed and waved his hand. “Can you do that?” He asked again, and Astrin found that he could speak. “W-why? What do you get out of it?” “That,” The sorcerer said, “isn’t important to you. Now, here’s what’s going to happen. We’re going to leave, and Lasina will wake up with no memory of us being here. You aren’t going to tell her. Instead, you’ll continue your earlier conversation and fix all that’s gone wrong between you. We’ve already given you a head start. My magic, you see, has a unique effect on the mind. Earlier, I showed you each the truest feelings you have towards each other. It’s very sweet, the little family you built of lonely children. Truly an inspiring story.” He snorted. “Can you do that much?” Astrin sneered, trying to ignore his pounding heart. Ien was alive? “And what’s to stop me from telling her everything? From telling her Ien’s alive? Or from fighting with her?” Thilan actually laughed there, a huge, full laugh. “Come now, you wouldn’t kill your brother twice, would you?” *** Lasina blinked rapidly, feeling tears in her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Rin. All those years…the daggers…everything…you’ve always just been trying to protect us, you’ve always been the strong one, the brave one, only we both found our magic and suddenly we didn’t need you to protect us anymore, and…and then you had no more reason to be strong or brave, you had nothing more to offer us, and we just shoved you aside and assumed you were okay because you’re always okay, Rin, you’re always…you’re always there…and then when we really did need you, you weren’t, and…and we just assumed you’d betrayed us, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I should have trusted you, I always knew, I swear I did, I was just so afraid, and Ien...and I...I…” she was rambling, and she knew it, and the tears were falling hot and fast. But Lasina didn’t care. She didn’t care because her friend, her brother, cared about her. And he always had. “I’m sorry, Rin. It goes without saying, but I forgive you. For all of it. And Ien would too, I know he would, and I…” Astrin flinched when she said Ien, and she loved him for it. She loved him for caring. For being willing to show her the weaknesses he’d always hidden and trust that she wouldn’t abuse it. “Will you forgive me, too? For not trusting you?” He took a shaky breath. Then another. “Oh, Sina,” he said quietly. “There is nothing to forgive.” He gave her a small, soft smile, and she saw that his cheeks were wet. “I won’t leave you again, not ever. I promise.” So yeah! It's kind of all over the place, and I have absolutely no idea what to do with it, but maybe I'll recycle the characters or add them to another project. 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
The Wandering Wizard Posted September 1, 2023 Report Share Posted September 1, 2023 8 hours ago, Edema Ruh said: Illegal quadruple post!! I haven't put anything here in a while, but I wrote a cool lil scene while trying to play with a certain character archetype and I'm pretty happy with it! Helpless: Hide contents Astrin shuffled down the hallway, eyes closed behind his blindfold as he tried to discern how many people surrounded him. He could hear someone on his right, someone on his left, but the footsteps blended together. Were there two on each side? Three? They wouldn’t give any prisoner that many guards, let alone him. He guessed 3 total. One in front, one to his left, and one on his right. A door shut loudly behind him, and Astrin stumbled as the one in front jerked the chain and he was pulled forward by his wrists. He felt slack in the chain, and reached up, pulling his blindfold down. He blinked in the suddenly bright room. The guard who had been in front of him now stood near a wall, as did 4 others. The chain was hooked to a metal ring in the floor in front of him. And beyond that was Lasina. Astrin shut his eyes and took a breath. He knew what was coming, but it didn’t stop him from flinching at how broken she sounded. “Why?” Lasina whispered. “Why did you betray us?” Astrin just shook his head, keeping his gaze firmly on the floor. “We trusted you, Rin.” There it was. Trust. He snorted, but still didn’t say anything. “Ah,” Lasina said softly. “How could I forget the…curse.” She turned to the guards. “Out.” One of them protested, and a flame grew over her hands. “I assure you, I am quite capable of handling anything he could do.” When the door shut behind the last guard, Astrin was finally able to speak. “I’m sorry.” Lasina’s hair started to glow. “You’re sorry?! You’re sorry?! How can you say that? I-Ien is dead. He’s dead and it’s your fault.” Astrin raised his head and glared. “You think I don’t know that? He was my best friend, Sina. My brother.” His voice cracked in a way that would have been embarrassing if he’d had any pride left to lose. Lasina’s gaze hardened. “So you do feel. That makes it so much worse. You know exactly what you did and you know how much it hurts. But you still betrayed us. You did it knowing the pain you would cause.” That was his si—that was Lasina. As eloquent as she was dangerous. “I didn’t mean to,” Astrin hissed. “I made a mistake. E-everyone makes mistakes.” He was only trying to convince himself, but Lasina clearly heard emotion he hadn’t meant to share. Lasina’s hair faded, and the flames disappeared from her hands. Her eyes continued to glitter, though, and it took a moment for Astrin to realize she was holding back tears. “I know, Rin, but your mistake killed him and so many others. Heroes can’t make mistakes.” Astrin didn’t remember moving, only being stopped by the end of the chain. He yanked at it, irritated that he couldn’t go farther and furious that Lasina could be so cruelly compassionate. “I’m no hero,” he growled as Lasina took a step back. “Heroes don’t give up. Heroes don’t turn traitor because they’re too weak to continue on. Heroes don’t let their friends—their family—die without even trying to save them.” He spat on the floor. “I’m a human, not a hero.” Lasina took a step forward. Astrin had known her forever, he loved her like a sister, but he found himself afraid as she brushed a lock of dark hair out of his eyes. “Oh, Rin. All heroes are human.” Astrin looked back at her steadily. “But not all humans are heroes. I never fit into this fight like you and Ien. I was only staying for you two, and then I just…had no reason to keep going.” Faint shimmers of light ran through Lasina’s long hair. Her voice shook with anger and a little bit of sorrow. “We weren’t reason enough for you? We felt the hopelessness too, you know. You could’ve talked to us, taken a step back, done anything but betray us. It’s not like you didn’t have options.” Astrin looked down, grinding his teeth. She was right, of course. “You’re a traitor, Rin. And you’ve lost. So the least you can do is tell me why. Please. Out of any love you once had for me, for Ien, just tell me why.” Astrin could have cried. He felt his eyes burning, felt his throat tightening. But to cry was to show a weakness he would never give to Lasina. So he snarled instead. “I’ve never stopped loving you. I would never betray you.” She threw up her hands and turned away. “You’re ridiculous. I shouldn’t have bothered to talk to you.” “No,” Astrin agreed, “but you did. Because even though we don’t always agree, you know that I wouldn’t betray you. You know that I care about you.” Lasina turned back to him, eyes hard but curious. The hardness he recognized from thousands of arguments. The curiosity, though…he realized with a start that she wanted to know him. Not to hurt him, but to befriend him. He and Ien had protected her for years before she’d discovered her magic. But Lasina protected hearts, not bodies. She understood the emotions, and she wanted to help him. Still. All of this flooded into Astrin’s mind in an instant before fading to a dim certainty. He could trust her with anything. She would never take advantage of a crack in his armor, but would instead help him repair it. He stumbled back, eyes wide. He knew Lasina, but suddenly he knew her. It was terrifying. She looked at him, confused, and then she too took a step back, looking afraid. He knew without a doubt that she suddenly knew him the way he knew her. Astrin opened his mouth to say something, anything, and found that he couldn’t. He wasn’t simply inarticulate; there was a…curse was the only good word for what it was, but that sounded like something out of a children’s tale. When more than one person was present, he couldn’t make a sound. (He’d learned, after significant experimentation, that ‘present’ meant about 20 square feet from him in any direction.) The room they were in was large, large enough that no one outside it would affect him. Essentially, someone was here. He looked behind him, but the thick wooden door was still firmly shut. He scanned the room, but saw no one. Lasina, still reeling, finally spoke. “Rin, I…I’m sorry. I’ve been such a fool. Can we…can we try this again?” Astrin didn’t hear her question, distracted as he was by a figure in the corner. He’d missed him at first, and still could only barely see a face peeking out from the shadows. When the stranger saw him watching, he grinned and put a finger to his lips, then grinned wider. Astrin looked back to Lasina, who was studying his face. “Rin, I…please. I get it, now. You’re afraid, not evil. I just couldn’t imagine you afraid of anything,” she hesitated, her eyes showed a hint of her former anger. But only a hint. Mostly, they were filled with love. And pity. Astrin hated pity. “You aren’t a traitor. You’re just a…a coward.” Coward. The word struck Astrin like a knife to the heart. He froze, automatically starting to glare. How dare she. How dare she be right. How dare she see his fear. How dare she know him. But no, no. She wasn’t going to hurt him. She cared about him. Lasina cared. Astrin wanted so badly to continue the conversation, to finally make peace with his friend…no, with his sister. But there was a chance she was in danger. And her safety would always come before her happiness. He met her eyes and nodded. Then he glanced behind her, at the face. Then back to her. Then back to the face. When she still looked confused, he raised his bound hands and pointed to his mouth. Lasina’s eyes lit up with understanding. She started to turn, then hesitated. She stepped to the side, so that she could look behind her without turning away from Astrin completely. As she did, a figure leapt from the shadows and attacked. Lasina started glowing, her powerful sorcery manifesting as scarlet flames that reached towards her attacker. He shot something back, a twisting bar of light that glowed…blue? Astrin had tried very hard to avoid learning about magic, but he’d never seen anything blue before. Clearly, Lasina hadn’t either. She dodged it, twisting her ropes of fire so that they avoided it as well. As they continued fighting, Astrin realized that Lasina was still keeping an eye on him. Being called a coward may have been a knife to the heart, but this mistrust was a thousand times worse. He would rather hear her call him a coward daily, and know it was true, than see the suspicion she was showing him now. He could take being tied up, take being locked in a cell, take all of it. None of it was Lasina directly, even if she’d been the one to give the order. But this…he was her brother. Astrin was supposed to be a shoulder to cry on, a partner on the battlefield. Not the traitor waiting to stab her in the back. He shoved the thoughts out of his mind. Emotions didn’t matter right now. It wasn’t important if he was hurting. He had to fight, had to do what he could to protect his family. Astrin yanked at the chain, twisting his hands in an attempt to get them free, but to no avail. He wished again that he had even the most basic magic, an old wish by now. He racked his brain, racing through his options and discarding them equally fast. He had a knife in his sleeve, but what could it do against such a powerful sorcerer? He looked up. Lasina was panicking. She didn’t panic easily; he had to do something. Astrin slid the small dagger into his hand, trying to line up a shot, when a small voice whispered in his head. What if you hit her? He shook his head, trying to clear it. He didn’t miss. It would be a hard shot, nearly impossible bound as he was, but he wouldn’t hit her. She could die. No! Astrin’s hands were shaking. You are helpless against this power; you’re tied up, you can’t even shout a warning. You’re useless. Redundant. The small voice that could only be his doubts fell silent, but another one continued. You are a just weakness. Nothing more. As he came to the conclusion, he felt a cool sharpness at his throat. “I wouldn’t try anything,” a voice breathed into his ear. “And I’ll be taking that knife, wouldn’t want you to get any ideas, now, would we?” The voice had an airy quality that was somehow less than sane. And then, though Astrin didn’t see anyone, the dagger flew out of his hand and joined the first one at his throat. The sorcerer fighting Lasina noticed and held up his hands. “Stop!” He called. “Or your friend loses his head.” Lasina froze, eyes snapping to Astrin. They widened visibly. “All right! Just don’t hurt him. Please.” Astrin shook his head vigorously, and the knife tightened. What was she doing? She had no use for him. She couldn’t let herself have a weakness. He couldn’t be a weakness. “Good,” the sorcerer purred. “I’m glad you see reason. Now, we’re going to come and have a nice chat, and if you behave, no one gets hurt.” “What do you want?” Lasina snapped. “Who sent you? Coyin?” The sorcerer raised an eyebrow. “Coyin is not your only enemy, little one. Besides,” he said, almost as an afterthought, “if we’d wanted you dead, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” Astrin knew it was true, and clearly Lasina did too. “Then why are you here?” She demanded. “What do you want from us?” The sorcerer didn’t answer. Instead, he strolled slowly towards Astrin, as relaxed as if he were approaching a guest at a party he’d thrown. He stepped right up to Astrin then reached out and gripped his chin. Up close, Astrin could see that the man’s eyes were an even deeper green than…than Ien’s had been. A breath hissed through his teeth, almost involuntarily, and he tried to twist away. Several things happened at once, almost too fast to comprehend. Lasina—poor, powerful Sina—rushed forward, hands blazing. Without even turning, the blue-eyed sorcerer thrust a hand behind him and she flew back and into the wall, where she collapsed. Astrin struggled even more, and the knives pressed harder into his neck. They were sharp enough that he didn’t even realize they had broken skin until he felt a wetness dripping down his chest. He didn’t care. Lasina was on the ground, completely still. “Now,” the sorcerer said. “Are we quite done?” Neither of them responded. Astrin because he couldn’t, and Lasina still hadn’t moved. “Excellent! Now, we really ought to introduce ourselves. I am Thilan. Wraith?” Astrin felt a chill run up his spine as he realized exactly what was behind him. “Selisaaa,” came the raspy whisper. “Yes,” Thilan agreed. “This is Selisa. It has proven quite helpful before, and I trust it will help keep your attention on me.” With those last words, he turned Astrin’s face away from Lasina’s crumpled body and back to him. “She’ll be fine. But there are a few things you need to understand, and so we're going to have a little chat. “First and foremost, your friend…Ien?” Astrin glared, and in response Thilan laughed, then leaned forward until Astrin could feel warm breath in his ear. “He’s alive. And if you do as we say, he’ll stay that way.” Astrin froze, shocked, and Thilan finally let go. He stepped back, suddenly a perfect businessman. “Good! Now, we don’t ask for much. But if you want your friend to live, you need to fix your relationship with your dear sister over there. Can you do that?” When Astrin didn’t answer, Thilan sighed and waved his hand. “Can you do that?” He asked again, and Astrin found that he could speak. “W-why? What do you get out of it?” “That,” The sorcerer said, “isn’t important to you. Now, here’s what’s going to happen. We’re going to leave, and Lasina will wake up with no memory of us being here. You aren’t going to tell her. Instead, you’ll continue your earlier conversation and fix all that’s gone wrong between you. We’ve already given you a head start. My magic, you see, has a unique effect on the mind. Earlier, I showed you each the truest feelings you have towards each other. It’s very sweet, the little family you built of lonely children. Truly an inspiring story.” He snorted. “Can you do that much?” Astrin sneered, trying to ignore his pounding heart. Ien was alive? “And what’s to stop me from telling her everything? From telling her Ien’s alive? Or from fighting with her?” Thilan actually laughed there, a huge, full laugh. “Come now, you wouldn’t kill your brother twice, would you?” *** Lasina blinked rapidly, feeling tears in her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Rin. All those years…the daggers…everything…you’ve always just been trying to protect us, you’ve always been the strong one, the brave one, only we both found our magic and suddenly we didn’t need you to protect us anymore, and…and then you had no more reason to be strong or brave, you had nothing more to offer us, and we just shoved you aside and assumed you were okay because you’re always okay, Rin, you’re always…you’re always there…and then when we really did need you, you weren’t, and…and we just assumed you’d betrayed us, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I should have trusted you, I always knew, I swear I did, I was just so afraid, and Ien...and I...I…” she was rambling, and she knew it, and the tears were falling hot and fast. But Lasina didn’t care. She didn’t care because her friend, her brother, cared about her. And he always had. “I’m sorry, Rin. It goes without saying, but I forgive you. For all of it. And Ien would too, I know he would, and I…” Astrin flinched when she said Ien, and she loved him for it. She loved him for caring. For being willing to show her the weaknesses he’d always hidden and trust that she wouldn’t abuse it. “Will you forgive me, too? For not trusting you?” He took a shaky breath. Then another. “Oh, Sina,” he said quietly. “There is nothing to forgive.” He gave her a small, soft smile, and she saw that his cheeks were wet. “I won’t leave you again, not ever. I promise.” So yeah! It's kind of all over the place, and I have absolutely no idea what to do with it, but maybe I'll recycle the characters or add them to another project. Woah that's incredible Rue!!! 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Edema Rue Posted September 1, 2023 Author Report Share Posted September 1, 2023 16 minutes ago, The Wandering Wizard said: Woah that's incredible Rue!!! Thanks Wiz!! It was fun to write 0 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Edema Rue Posted September 3, 2023 Author Report Share Posted September 3, 2023 Mkay. Hi. Here, read this. Spoiler I dreamed a dream, and in my dream I was not the hero. I dreamed a dream, and in my dream I ran away. I dreamed a dream, and in my dream I could have saved them. And in that dream, I ran away. I dreamed of an army, surrounding a haven. I dreamed that I looked, and I dreamed that they saw. I dreamed that I ran, and I dreamed that they followed. They saw the way in, and I didn’t try to fight. They came for us all, and I was afraid. I imagined I’d save them, but I dreamed that I bought my own freedom. I dreamed a dream, and in my dream I was a coward. A clever coward, a sly fox. I dreamed a dream, and I used them until they stopped winning. And then I made a deal. I dreamed a dream and in my dream I made a deal with the devil. In my dream I escaped, and in my dream I left them to die. And in my dream, I didn’t care. I woke today, and I did not run away. I woke today, and I was neither hero nor coward. I woke today, and I did not run away. I woke this morning, and I let the dream die. I woke this morning, and I raced the sun. I raced the sun and fully awakened, I won. I woke today, and I flew on wings of metal and rubber. I woke today, and I was not afraid. I woke today and I did not betray them. I woke, and I escaped my dreams. I woke, and I lived a reality more beautiful than my imaginings. I woke, and I am glad. I woke, and I am more today than I was last night. I woke this morning, and I lived today; I slept through the night, and I dreamed of pain. I woke today, and found reality to be beautiful. I woke today, and now I will rest. I will dream a dream, and if I dream that I be a traitor, it is only a dream. I dreamed a dream, and I ran. I lived a moment, and I fought. Dreams are but fictions, and reality is blurred. I dreamed a dream, and I woke, and I find that the fence is gone. Do I wake, or do I dream? Does it matter? I dreamed a dream. And in my dream, I was less than I am awake. And I am glad. I meant to write like a 3 line thing and then send it to a certain friend I have as a goodnight (we have lore with the way we say goodmorning and goodnight, yes we're nerds, yes it's funny, yes I'm going to end up writing a story about it someday) and it evolved. (yes, I actually had that dream. It was weird). 2 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Edema Rue Posted September 8, 2023 Author Report Share Posted September 8, 2023 (edited) There's a group of girls on my bike team that call themselves the queens. You can figure out the rest, even though it sorta turned into a metaphor about life. Queen: Spoiler I am fast. The queens are faster. I am tough. The queens are tougher. I am strong The queens are stronger. I would like to be a queen. I was near one. And I left To find the kind people Who are alone. And when I was alone I found I wished That I were a queen. And when I found myself Watching the adoring crowds, I wished, For a moment, That I could be a queen. I work hard, But they work harder. I give my all, But they give more. I spread light, But they shine brighter. And I found That I do not want To be a queen. I do not want The prying eyes. I do not want The extra work I do not want The burden of a kingdom I am safe, Far Far Far Below the throne. But on their thrones, They twitter And giggle. And on their thrones, They smile, And embrace. On their thrones, They love each other. And I am alone Far Far Far Below the throne. I try to believe It’s only lies. But sometimes I wonder What it’s like To be a queen. Faster. Stronger. Better. Brighter. I was fine, As I was. And then comes my Maker, And then comes my Lord. And then comes my Teacher, And then comes my Coach. He’s a little bit shocked, A little bit concerned, A little bit disappointed. “Why,” He asks, “Do you hide here, “In the ashes “When I have made you “To blaze “On a throne?” “I am too weak,” Is my simple response. “I am not what they are. “I am no tragic hero, “I am no clever witch. “I’m just a child, And they Are the Queens.” And then my Maker, My Lord, My Teacher, My Coach, And then He turns, And He says, “I have made you.” And He says, “I created you to be a queen, “And you’ve worked for it yourself. “Why do you crawl in the mud “When I’ve crafted wings “With which you “Ought to soar?” “But Lord,” I cry out, “But Coach,” I plead. “They all deserve it “So much more than me. “They work harder, “They are stronger, “They are beloved by the team.” And then my Lord laughs, And says with a smile, “It’s not who deserves it, “It’s who I choose. “And I chose you, “My daughter, “My student. “I chose you, And a Queen you will be.” And here I will frown, And take a step back, And my Lord will come forward, My Coach will react. “Why are you alone,” He asks with care, “When I have built you to Always be there?” And then I will cry, Because I’m confused. “Coach,” I will say, “I don’t understand. “You ask me to love, “But oh, I’m afraid. “You ask me to give, “The hope I don’t have.” “My daughter,” says my Maker, “Have peace, “Fear no more. “For I will lead you, “And always be true. “Those girls may be strong, “Those queens may be tough, “But child, “I made you. “And you are enough.” It's kinda long and repetitive, and has seen exactly 0 editing, but I figured I'd let ya'll read it and then when I edit it you can help me :3 Edited September 8, 2023 by Edema Ruh 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
The Wandering Wizard Posted September 8, 2023 Report Share Posted September 8, 2023 1 hour ago, Edema Ruh said: There's a group of girls on my bike team that call themselves the queens. You can figure out the rest, even though it sorta turned into a metaphor about life. Queen: Reveal hidden contents I am fast. The queens are faster. I am tough. The queens are tougher. I am strong The queens are stronger. I would like to be a queen. I was near one. And I left To find the kind people Who are alone. And when I was alone I found I wished That I were a queen. And when I found myself Watching the adoring crowds, I wished, For a moment, That I could be a queen. I work hard, But they work harder. I give my all, But they give more. I spread light, But they shine brighter. And I found That I do not want To be a queen. I do not want The prying eyes. I do not want The extra work I do not want The burden of a kingdom I am safe, Far Far Far Below the throne. But on their thrones, They twitter And giggle. And on their thrones, They smile, And embrace. On their thrones, They love each other. And I am alone Far Far Far Below the throne. I try to believe It’s only lies. But sometimes I wonder What it’s like To be a queen. Faster. Stronger. Better. Brighter. I was fine, As I was. And then comes my Maker, And then comes my Lord. And then comes my Teacher, And then comes my Coach. He’s a little bit shocked, A little bit concerned, A little bit disappointed. “Why,” He asks, “Do you hide here, “In the ashes “When I have made you “To blaze “On a throne?” “I am too weak,” Is my simple response. “I am not what they are. “I am no tragic hero, “I am no clever witch. “I’m just a child, And they Are the Queens.” And then my Maker, My Lord, My Teacher, My Coach, And then He turns, And He says, “I have made you.” And He says, “I created you to be a queen, “And you’ve worked for it yourself. “Why do you crawl in the mud “When I’ve crafted wings “With which you “Ought to soar?” “But Lord,” I cry out, “But Coach,” I plead. “They all deserve it “So much more than me. “They work harder, “They are stronger, “They are beloved by the team.” And then my Lord laughs, And says with a smile, “It’s not who deserves it, “It’s who I choose. “And I chose you, “My daughter, “My student. “I chose you, And a Queen you will be.” And here I will frown, And take a step back, And my Lord will come forward, My Coach will react. “Why are you alone,” He asks with care, “When I have built you to Always be there?” And then I will cry, Because I’m confused. “Coach,” I will say, “I don’t understand. “You ask me to love, “But oh, I’m afraid. “You ask me to give, “The hope I don’t have.” “My daughter,” says my Maker, “Have peace, “Fear no more. “For I will lead you, “And always be true. “Those girls may be strong, “Those queens may be tough, “But child, “I made you. “And you are enough.” It's kinda long and repetitive, and has seen exactly 0 editing, but I figured I'd let ya'll read it and then when I edit it you can help me :3 It's just simply beautiful!! 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Edema Rue Posted September 13, 2023 Author Report Share Posted September 13, 2023 Here’s another one I wrote, I’m…not sure how I feel about it. It says mostly what I want it to say, but it doesn’t feel very eloquent or beautiful. Editing will definitely be coming, and in the meantime any and all feedback is welcome!! Prisoner: Spoiler I am the prisoner Of a demon that lives in my head. I am a puppet With chains Instead of strings; I dance To a tune That doesn’t exist. The demon twitches a finger, And I jump to obey It cocks its hand And I move. I cannot escape For who can fight Such a thing? It is bigger. It is stronger. It is the master. It is a demon. And it is inside me. Only, I begin to wonder. If perhaps, I am not a puppet. If perhaps, I have neither shackles Nor strings. If perhaps the tune I dance to Is my own. I hope It is not. I would rather Be a prisoner Than a coward. I would rather be trapped Than weak. The demon is calling. It’s a monster. And now, Now I’m falling. Has it released my strings? Or have I tripped? I am weak. I am afraid. I am lost. I am broken. But I am secure Because deep down I know That my actions Are not my own. I am nothing. And that Is just fine. Because I am not A coward A traitor A failure A weakness. I’m only A prisoner. 0 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Edema Rue Posted October 1, 2023 Author Report Share Posted October 1, 2023 HmmmMMMMMmmmm it's been a bit since I was here, I haven't been doing a ton of my own writing recently. Here's something I started, the idea was that I wanted to write a villain who wasn't bitter, who wasn't angry, and who genuinely cares about other people. Not sure it'll go anywhere, but it's fun to try! Here's what would be the Prologue, I'll probably write a few chapters and we'll see where it goes! As usual, all feedback is more than welcome!! Spoiler The boy was thrust into a cell, neither harshly nor gently. He stood up, dusted himself off, eyed the bars surrounding him. The dungeon was dim, with only a single torch burning in the far corner. He sighed and sat down, pressing his back to the cold stone and wishing, not for the first time, that he had chosen a different path. Or, at the very least, that he wasn’t so incompetent. It would’ve been nice to do something more with life than be tossed in a cell until they got tired of feeding him, but it was too late to do anything different now. It was a harsh world outside, one that wouldn’t forgive easily. Or ever. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he realized that all of the other cells were empty. Probably. Several were too dark to see inside, but…he snapped his gaze to the side as he caught a flicker of movement. There was nothing there. He was jumping at shadows. The boy let out a wry chuckle. He was alone, again, and probably forever. The chuckle faded into sobs, and he sat there for a long time, it was impossible to tell how long exactly in the unending darkness. Eventually he calmed down, and almost immediately after he had, a feminine voice spoke. He heard it with his ears, but it seemed to vibrate deep in his mind, too. “Are you all right?” The boy gasped and shot to his feet, looking around and seeing no one. “Who’s there?” “Oh, my,” the voice said, sounding flustered. “I’m so sorry, where are my manners? My name is Liz.” The boy backed as far to the edge of his cell as he could. “Where are you? What are you?” “I’m here, in the corner,” Liz said from deep in the shadows. Her voice had a soothing effect, even though it still seemed to sound mostly in the boy’s mind. “I’m a prisoner, like you. And now I have answered your questions, and so I ask again, are you all right?” The boy glowered at the corner, furious at having been caught in his moment of weakness. “I’m fine. What do you want?” “Oh. You didn’t look fine a moment ago. If there’s anything I can do, please tell me. I’m terribly sorry for bothering you, it’s just that I’ve been alone here for some time now and I was interested to see a new face.” Liz sounded hurt, almost, and the boy suddenly felt terrible. He had been sad to be alone, and then someone friendly, someone more caring than even his own parents, had come along, and the first thing he had done was yell at her. He shoved down the feelings. “You’re lying,” he declared. “Tell me what you really want.” “Oh,” Liz said sadly. How, the boy wondered, could she sound so small and sad while somehow speaking directly into his mind? And then she cheered, just a little bit. “Oh! I see what you need! I’m sorry it took me so long to figure it out, I haven’t been around other people in a while, and I seem to have lost some understanding.” And then, inexplicably, she hardened. Cooled. In less than a heartbeat, she went from caring and understanding to harsh and unyielding. It was, simply put, terrifying, and the boy would have cried out if he weren’t so afraid that she’d attack. “Why did you get caught, weak child? What made you think you were strong enough to be a villain? No, no, not to worry, not to worry. I’ve been needing a new minion, and you will do very nicely. So, will you serve, or should I end you now?” Oddly enough, the boy felt calmer now. This was what he expected from someone in the darkest parts of the King’s dungeons, the parts where they left only those who were too vile to kill. Or, apparently, where they sent foolish children to scare them into an honest life. Was this Liz doing it on purpose? She had to be, but...she sounded so genuine. “I’m not here to serve you!” He said, trying to sound tougher than he felt. “And you got caught too!” Liz giggled, and the sound echoed through the dungeon. “Sometimes,” she said, “it works to your advantage to be caught. To let your legend grow.” The boy sat down with a sigh. “I don’t have a legend. Just myself.” “Not everyone needs a legend,” she said, and the hardness was gone so quickly it was hard to imagine it had ever even been there. “And every act can only last so long.But everyone needs a name. Do you have one, child?” “Why should I trust you?” He asked petulantly. “You haven’t even shown me your face.” Liz sighed. “It’s true. I haven’t given you a reason to trust me, and for that I am sorry. But you do need a name, silly. If you don’t want to tell me yours, just make one up. It isn’t hard, and I need to call you something.” The boy blinked. “I…sure. Why not. Call me Lon.” And even though the boy—Lon—couldn’t see her, he could almost feel Liz’s warm smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Lon. I’m terribly sorry you’re down here. Would you like to talk?” Lon froze, unsure what to say. “You don’t have to,” Liz said quickly. “Some people would rather have someone listen to their story, it helps them heal, and so I listen, but I’m just here to help you. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” Lon sar for a moment, and then he chuckled. It turned into a laugh, and kept going until he felt tears of mirth, yes that’s what they were, mirth, running down his cheeks. “What,” he finally said, “are you? One second you sound like an old village healer, and the next you’re a murderer. Why on earth should I trust that? You’re-you’re insane.” Liz was quiet for a long moment. “I know. I’m sure I am; lots of people have told me, and I know that sane people don’t live like I do, don't think like I do. But I don’t think I’m hurting anyone too badly, despite all that. I never end lives, only…change them.” Her voice was quiet, musing. “And no, no, you have no reason to trust me, not here, not now, not anytime or anywhere. But,” she said, her voice sharp, “I trust you.” Lon froze. Her words had been magically projected before, the way they seemed to come straight into his mind, but now his doubts were gone. Her words seemed to burn into his very spirit, spreading warmth and light into parts of his soul he hadn’t even known existed. And with them came a trust so strong, so powerful it made him think of the way a small child looks at their parents. I trust you. Why? Why, stars above, did this Liz, this clearly powerful sorceress, trust him? “Prove it,” he said, even as the burning words filled him. “Tell me your story. Show me your face.” “I can do that,” Liz said, calmly, steadily, “and if you want me to, I will. But it’s a long story, a painful story, and once I start I’m not going to stop. I could shorten it, but I’m not going to, for that would be worse than never telling it at all. So, are you sure this is what you want, dear child?” Lon blinked, suddenly remembering where they were. He didn’t belong in the darkest parts of the king’s dungeon, that was certain, but this Liz? The darkness was her home and her mantle. He briefly wondered if her story wasn’t something he wanted to hear, but he suddenly found he did. He really, really did. “Tell me.” “Are you sure?” Liz repeated. Something in her voice had changed, and he looked up to see, emerging from the corner furthest from the torch, a shape. She was small, barely 5 feet tall, and her smooth black hair fell past her waist. Then the flickering light caught on her face, and Lon gasped. “L--Lady of Darkness,” he croaked. Liz gave him a small smile. “I’ve been called that. I’m sorry I didn’t show you my face before. I don’t mean to be deceptive, or to hide, but…well. I can help more people if they don’t know who I am. But you asked, and I believe that this is what you need.” Lon still hadn’t spoken. Liz sighed. “What reassurance would you like, dear boy? I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not going to hurt anyone for another few months, and then I’ll leave here and continue my work. And people will be hurt by it, by me, but they will grow because of it.” Lon blinked. “You’re a legend. I…everyone thinks you’re dead.” “Oops,” Liz said. “Sorry to prove you wrong.” She sounded genuinely sorry. What a bizarre woman. “No, no, it’s…nevermind. I don’t care who you are.” Lon was surprised to find it was true. It shouldn’t be true. Why was it true? This woman was a monster, a legend, a nightmare. And she was sitting right in front of him, asking if he was okay. He suddenly found that he wanted to know her, wanted to see a piece of the mind that was…well, that was the Lady of Darkness. “Will you…will you tell me your story?” He asked, throat suddenly dry. Liz smiled at him, her kind, dark eyes staring deep into his own. “I see you, boy. I know you. And if you want to hear it, I’ll tell you, because stars above, it gets boring down here really fast.” Then she gave him a small smile. "Besides," she added, "you seem a good sort. I hope we can become dear friends." 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
The Wandering Wizard Posted October 1, 2023 Report Share Posted October 1, 2023 15 hours ago, Edema Rue said: HmmmMMMMMmmmm it's been a bit since I was here, I haven't been doing a ton of my own writing recently. Here's something I started, the idea was that I wanted to write a villain who wasn't bitter, who wasn't angry, and who genuinely cares about other people. Not sure it'll go anywhere, but it's fun to try! Here's what would be the Prologue, I'll probably write a few chapters and we'll see where it goes! As usual, all feedback is more than welcome!! Hide contents The boy was thrust into a cell, neither harshly nor gently. He stood up, dusted himself off, eyed the bars surrounding him. The dungeon was dim, with only a single torch burning in the far corner. He sighed and sat down, pressing his back to the cold stone and wishing, not for the first time, that he had chosen a different path. Or, at the very least, that he wasn’t so incompetent. It would’ve been nice to do something more with life than be tossed in a cell until they got tired of feeding him, but it was too late to do anything different now. It was a harsh world outside, one that wouldn’t forgive easily. Or ever. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he realized that all of the other cells were empty. Probably. Several were too dark to see inside, but…he snapped his gaze to the side as he caught a flicker of movement. There was nothing there. He was jumping at shadows. The boy let out a wry chuckle. He was alone, again, and probably forever. The chuckle faded into sobs, and he sat there for a long time, it was impossible to tell how long exactly in the unending darkness. Eventually he calmed down, and almost immediately after he had, a feminine voice spoke. He heard it with his ears, but it seemed to vibrate deep in his mind, too. “Are you all right?” The boy gasped and shot to his feet, looking around and seeing no one. “Who’s there?” “Oh, my,” the voice said, sounding flustered. “I’m so sorry, where are my manners? My name is Liz.” The boy backed as far to the edge of his cell as he could. “Where are you? What are you?” “I’m here, in the corner,” Liz said from deep in the shadows. Her voice had a soothing effect, even though it still seemed to sound mostly in the boy’s mind. “I’m a prisoner, like you. And now I have answered your questions, and so I ask again, are you all right?” The boy glowered at the corner, furious at having been caught in his moment of weakness. “I’m fine. What do you want?” “Oh. You didn’t look fine a moment ago. If there’s anything I can do, please tell me. I’m terribly sorry for bothering you, it’s just that I’ve been alone here for some time now and I was interested to see a new face.” Liz sounded hurt, almost, and the boy suddenly felt terrible. He had been sad to be alone, and then someone friendly, someone more caring than even his own parents, had come along, and the first thing he had done was yell at her. He shoved down the feelings. “You’re lying,” he declared. “Tell me what you really want.” “Oh,” Liz said sadly. How, the boy wondered, could she sound so small and sad while somehow speaking directly into his mind? And then she cheered, just a little bit. “Oh! I see what you need! I’m sorry it took me so long to figure it out, I haven’t been around other people in a while, and I seem to have lost some understanding.” And then, inexplicably, she hardened. Cooled. In less than a heartbeat, she went from caring and understanding to harsh and unyielding. It was, simply put, terrifying, and the boy would have cried out if he weren’t so afraid that she’d attack. “Why did you get caught, weak child? What made you think you were strong enough to be a villain? No, no, not to worry, not to worry. I’ve been needing a new minion, and you will do very nicely. So, will you serve, or should I end you now?” Oddly enough, the boy felt calmer now. This was what he expected from someone in the darkest parts of the King’s dungeons, the parts where they left only those who were too vile to kill. Or, apparently, where they sent foolish children to scare them into an honest life. Was this Liz doing it on purpose? She had to be, but...she sounded so genuine. “I’m not here to serve you!” He said, trying to sound tougher than he felt. “And you got caught too!” Liz giggled, and the sound echoed through the dungeon. “Sometimes,” she said, “it works to your advantage to be caught. To let your legend grow.” The boy sat down with a sigh. “I don’t have a legend. Just myself.” “Not everyone needs a legend,” she said, and the hardness was gone so quickly it was hard to imagine it had ever even been there. “And every act can only last so long.But everyone needs a name. Do you have one, child?” “Why should I trust you?” He asked petulantly. “You haven’t even shown me your face.” Liz sighed. “It’s true. I haven’t given you a reason to trust me, and for that I am sorry. But you do need a name, silly. If you don’t want to tell me yours, just make one up. It isn’t hard, and I need to call you something.” The boy blinked. “I…sure. Why not. Call me Lon.” And even though the boy—Lon—couldn’t see her, he could almost feel Liz’s warm smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Lon. I’m terribly sorry you’re down here. Would you like to talk?” Lon froze, unsure what to say. “You don’t have to,” Liz said quickly. “Some people would rather have someone listen to their story, it helps them heal, and so I listen, but I’m just here to help you. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” Lon sar for a moment, and then he chuckled. It turned into a laugh, and kept going until he felt tears of mirth, yes that’s what they were, mirth, running down his cheeks. “What,” he finally said, “are you? One second you sound like an old village healer, and the next you’re a murderer. Why on earth should I trust that? You’re-you’re insane.” Liz was quiet for a long moment. “I know. I’m sure I am; lots of people have told me, and I know that sane people don’t live like I do, don't think like I do. But I don’t think I’m hurting anyone too badly, despite all that. I never end lives, only…change them.” Her voice was quiet, musing. “And no, no, you have no reason to trust me, not here, not now, not anytime or anywhere. But,” she said, her voice sharp, “I trust you.” Lon froze. Her words had been magically projected before, the way they seemed to come straight into his mind, but now his doubts were gone. Her words seemed to burn into his very spirit, spreading warmth and light into parts of his soul he hadn’t even known existed. And with them came a trust so strong, so powerful it made him think of the way a small child looks at their parents. I trust you. Why? Why, stars above, did this Liz, this clearly powerful sorceress, trust him? “Prove it,” he said, even as the burning words filled him. “Tell me your story. Show me your face.” “I can do that,” Liz said, calmly, steadily, “and if you want me to, I will. But it’s a long story, a painful story, and once I start I’m not going to stop. I could shorten it, but I’m not going to, for that would be worse than never telling it at all. So, are you sure this is what you want, dear child?” Lon blinked, suddenly remembering where they were. He didn’t belong in the darkest parts of the king’s dungeon, that was certain, but this Liz? The darkness was her home and her mantle. He briefly wondered if her story wasn’t something he wanted to hear, but he suddenly found he did. He really, really did. “Tell me.” “Are you sure?” Liz repeated. Something in her voice had changed, and he looked up to see, emerging from the corner furthest from the torch, a shape. She was small, barely 5 feet tall, and her smooth black hair fell past her waist. Then the flickering light caught on her face, and Lon gasped. “L--Lady of Darkness,” he croaked. Liz gave him a small smile. “I’ve been called that. I’m sorry I didn’t show you my face before. I don’t mean to be deceptive, or to hide, but…well. I can help more people if they don’t know who I am. But you asked, and I believe that this is what you need.” Lon still hadn’t spoken. Liz sighed. “What reassurance would you like, dear boy? I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not going to hurt anyone for another few months, and then I’ll leave here and continue my work. And people will be hurt by it, by me, but they will grow because of it.” Lon blinked. “You’re a legend. I…everyone thinks you’re dead.” “Oops,” Liz said. “Sorry to prove you wrong.” She sounded genuinely sorry. What a bizarre woman. “No, no, it’s…nevermind. I don’t care who you are.” Lon was surprised to find it was true. It shouldn’t be true. Why was it true? This woman was a monster, a legend, a nightmare. And she was sitting right in front of him, asking if he was okay. He suddenly found that he wanted to know her, wanted to see a piece of the mind that was…well, that was the Lady of Darkness. “Will you…will you tell me your story?” He asked, throat suddenly dry. Liz smiled at him, her kind, dark eyes staring deep into his own. “I see you, boy. I know you. And if you want to hear it, I’ll tell you, because stars above, it gets boring down here really fast.” Then she gave him a small smile. "Besides," she added, "you seem a good sort. I hope we can become dear friends." WOAH :OOO That's all I can say. OH WAIT PLEASE WRITE MORE ABOUT HER!!! SHE'S A REALLY COOL VILLIAN :DDD 0 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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