Scarletfox

8/10 I love it, the pixelated look is cool, though not my favorite art style. I like the sunglasses touch a lot

Hi there, friends!

I'll take me a truth.

"I am also here... for you, father," Fox said finding her voice in a quavering whisper. Her next words felt right, though Fox didn't know if she herself fully comprehended them yet, "as long as we have each other, everything's going to be ok..." her whisper trailed off. The anger and the fear did not go away, but somehow, it seemed just a little bit less important. Fox remembered feeling this way, once before. She was learning to love again.

My school is legit the best. Ok, so my class is randomly obsessed with fire, and our Chemistry teacher is super cool, so she always tries to incorporate some amount of fire into our lesson. So we were going to set some stuff on fire outside the other day, so she handed us all the propane fire torch thingies and started walking with us outside, but then she forgot something and went back for it real quick. We kept walking towards the door outside, a bunch of kids with fire propane torch thingies walking out of the lobby of the school. Mr. C, my favorite teacher, happened to be sitting the desk. "Where are y'all going?" He asked curiously. The response he got was a mix of the following all at the same time: "FUEGO!" "We're going to set things on fire!" "We're setting things on fire!" "YES SIR! FiREEeE" "Let's set things on fire!" Mr. C smiled and returned with, "setting things on fire is fun!" Like, he didn't even try to stop us at all. We then proceeded to set some gummy bears on fire in the name of science. My school is a pain in the neck sometimes, but other times, it's just the best. @Chasmgoat @HoidWasTaken

Hello, friend, welcome to the shard! What's your favorite non-sanderson book?

Oh my goodness, yes! I laughed so hard when I saw this!

Once upon a time, there was a @Scarletfox. The end.

Fox quivered, but used all of her strength to lock onto father's eyes. On the one hand, Fox wanted the terror to be gone eternally, yet on the other hand, she could live in this warm moment forever.

It depends on where you are in Texas. Texas is a big state (I legit wrote country instead of state and had to retype it, then I couldn't stop laughing at how stereotypical I am) so like, East Texans and West Texans have totally different accents from each other. There are actually places in Texas that actually get snow regularly. Where I live, guns are not as flaunted, but more discreet since we're in the city. Like, my church encourages concealed carry, my neighbor has a shed of guns, and some of my friends at school go hunting all the time, but a good amount of people are still kind of freaked out by guns. Lots of people have guns, we just don't talk about them. They're tools, not toys, people. Though then again, there are some places like where my grandparents live..... To be fair, y'all are all basically allergic to the heat as well. My brother Brian (not real name) and I spent a week or so in Washington this summer with a friend's family, and there was one day we did a bunch of work for their neighbor. We were wheel barrowing a big pile of rocks from one location to another and it took us all day. It was in the sweltering heat of the seventies and the eighties,* everyone was pouring sweat... except for me and Brian. We actually thought it was quite a nice day, a little chilly in the morning, but a good breeze to keep us cool. We were wheel barrowing away when (the neighbor) commented, "dang, this is a hot day," Brian and I shared a quick look, but he kept going, "this must be what it's like in the south all the time!" Brian was having trouble keeping a straight face (he was shoveling right beside me), and so I quietly added, "Oh Lord bless his soul." It was one of those moments that I will never forget. Just, wonderful. Oh yeah, Mexican spicy food is simply wonderful! We eat a lot of Mexican and Tex-Mex-- so delicious. My family really likes Valentina sauce, but it all tastes good to me. My curiosity is peaked

Some more Texas stereotypes include: We all speak Spanish Half of us are Mexican (where I live, yeah kind of) All of our food is really spicy (this is extremely inaccurate, everyone else's food is bland) We are all super crazy drivers We can't stand the cold (ok, yeah.) We all have giant egos (yup. Although I might change that to a 98%of us have giant egos) And then some linguistic misunderstandings that I think are absolutely hilarious (these are way off): Sam Hill was a historical figure Dinner and supper are equals The little golden things are fireflies Iced tea can be either sweet tea or unsweet tea is any tea with ice in it And my personal favorite: "Bless your heart" is a compliment

Fox gripped her knife, feeling the urge, the need to tear something apart. The tumulus anger like a nest of cockroaches swarming in the core of her chest, gnawing away at her insides. She wanted to scream. There was sudden movement, and Fox's alert eyes snapped toward the motion. Nath had awakened, and was shivering and crying quietly. Fox felt that strange mixture of being overwhelmed of emotion, yet hollow of it at the same time, and something... melted. Without thinking, she strode over to his cot, and kneeled down beside it. She then took his hand in her trembling own, and placed it against her icy cheek. As the terror washed through her like waves, Fox's tears came out like a trickle of a dying stream. She opened her mouth, but then closed it. She did not have the strength to speak. She shook not like a leaf, but like a washing machine that was off balance.

"May I ask who's calling?" "Welcome to the show, Yes, what do you propose?" "I do, if you could ship one over here, that would be greatly appreciated."

A familiar scream shattered the eerie silence causing the Little Fox's heartbeat to race even further. Her tears mixed with the grime, or was it grime? It smelled awfully different than normal, how had she not noticed this? So she did what any other upstanding little urchin would do, she dipped her finger in and tasted it. It twanged metallic on her tongue-- it was something the Little Fox recognized with horror. On her hands and knees, the Little Fox had been pulling herself through a sewer of blood. She jumped up and stood on one leg leaning against the wall, wanting more than anything to get out of there, when a hand formed around her smashed ankle. She shrieked in terror as it yanked her down deep into the blood, which was no longer a sewer, but a vast ocean of blood, or it seemed. The hand dragged her deeper and deeper until her stinging eyes saw no light. She thrashed around in the blood, but to no avail, the grip was strong and firm. The Little Fox held her breath, trying to keep the ocean of blood from stripping away the very life from her. But she could not hold it in forever, she felt her heart rate increasing even further, and the panic constricting around her throat like the choking waves themselves. The Little Fox could no longer see or hear anything, but she had to breathe in, against her will, her body contracted. Then, she coughed, and the blood came spattering out all over a beautiful marble like face, who held her close to him. She laughed lightly, Winter had saved her again. But then, Little Fox sombered, and her face turned to hatred, this was not her angel. It seemed that Winter sensed something was wrong as well, for his jaw suddenly went slack. He took the knife already buried in Fox's stomach, and twisted it. Fox leapt from her slumber knives out, in a battle stance, alert senses, and her heart thundering in her head louder than it should have. Though she didn't scream or say a peep. Her horror was solely internal, except for maybe the stricken look plastered upon her face. Fox frantically searched the room with her eyes for threats, and even though she saw none, she did not relax. @Nathrangking

Yaay!!

I'm going to guess 2, number one seems too specific, and number three seems too absurd that it might be an attempt to through us off. 2.

Fox looked at father resting in the bliss of sleep, he had been born lucky to be able to descend into rest that easily. Fox moved to the corner of the tent, not sparing even a glance at the spare cot. She curled into a tight ball, her uninjured hand resting on the hilt of her knife. She closed her eyes, but did not sleep. Her senses were alert to all that happened around her, though her mind wandered to the revelations of the day. Winter had killed her brother, and Fox had tried to kill herself. Anger and hatred crept into her heart once more, and Fox drifted into the very dismal world of the night. It was cold and rainy, the Little Fox could feel the cool breeze blowing lightly upon her cheeks, causing subtle petals to reveal themselves as if they were being pressed against a foggy window pane. The moon's light reflected in streaks of white in the puddles on the cobbled road, as if the angels themselves had proclaimed their defeat by dripping pure shimmery blood as they flew overhead. Wisps of orange impeded the Little Fox's vision slightly, though that was the least of her worries. She swept her hair back, revealing the budding rose on the roundness of her face. The Little Fox hurried through the streets, slinking around the alleys that scarred the sky with their lonely beacons of ash. She could not afford to be slowed tonight by other humans, if the wretches that bothered her could even be called that. Her hands clasped around a very small dagger she had in her jacket. She would be ready, but then, the Little Fox heard a splash, causing her to bolt into an alley and crouch behind a heavy dumpster. She didn't see anyone, where had the sound originated? Suddenly, the Little Fox became aware of her cold leg, it would appear that she had stepped in a puddle and scared herself half out of her wits. If she weren't trying to be quiet, she would have laughed bitterly. Then, she felt a soft hand on her shoulder sending a spike of electricity through her body, and the Little Fox turned deftly and slammed her fist into the person's nose, following up by grabbing their hair and slamming her knew into their jaw. She recognized the chuckling that came from a silhouetted figure at the entrance of the alley, but she somehow managed to stay calm, though could feel a growing seed of terror sprout from within her chest painfully. The Little Fox gripped that dagger with all she had, and began backing up deeper into the alley. Angel's blood gleamed on the tin trash can, but beyond that, it was pitch black. The Little Fox, however, had a secret. She slowly backed away, keeping her eyes on the man. She glanced down to see if she was at the right place for half a second, but when she looked back up, the silhouette was gone. It would appear that the terror had been planted during the earliest days of the universe, and grew at record speeds turning into a miniature tree inside of the Little Fox in seconds. It was getting too big, for a body such as hers, so the Little Fox had to let out a little whimper. Just then, she felt the metal beneath her feet, and let out a sigh of relief. She had made it. She jumped and landed on one side of the metal circle, and felt the heart wrenching experience of falling into the abyss below the ground, when a strong hand on her neck jerked her poor little heart back out. Gasping for breath, the Little Fox tried to pry free the strong fingers to no avail, and could feel herself being slowly dragged out of her home, before she remembered what was in her pocket. A shriek, the loosening of grips, a crunch, and a lost dagger. The Little Fox's heart beat violently in her chest, and she dragged herself by her hands through the sewer, her tears mixing with the grime from pain from her crushed leg. Or were they of joy that she had momentarily escaped her brother? The Little Fox didn't know.

Fox tenderly led Nath to where Daolan had brought them, and helped him over to one of the two cots in the tent. "Goodnight, my dear father," She said softly.

Fox closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them, and gave a nod, though she didn't open her mouth. Fox rushed over to father, anxious about how wobbly he looked. He looked so weak, but this time, it didn't seem to be such a bad thing to Fox. Somehow, the frailty of her father made her feel... quite fond. Fox offered an arm of support, "where are we going, father?" she asked curiously, though softly.

Fox cocked her head quizzically at the comment about the leaves, sighing inwardly. These people were strange. When Circe recommended rest, Fox’s fatigue washed over her, but no, she was not going to leave her father’s side. “I’m going to stay with father, I think.”

Fox was slowly tearing apart a leaf. “Yes,” She said softly, “perhaps that is so.” Something about the idea that somebody wanted her and needed her warmed Fox’s heart for some reason. She pulled another leaf from a pocket, and began tearing it apart. Once finished she let the stem drift to the ground. Then, she stuffed the rest of the leaves from her pocket into her mouth and swallowed them in a gulp. Crunchy.