Thaidakar the Ghostblood

As they all approached Thaidakar, saying his name, asking a question, Thaidakar touched the handle of the door. It was cold to the touch, inventing, familiar, and oh so unforgiving. A flicker of a smile touched his face as he recognized the patter not the floor beneath his knees. The First pattern. Behind the door, light and dark flickered, casting long shadows that moved as if in a dance without rhythm and without beat, yet was intoxicating to the eye. Thaidakar felt the minds of those who approached, not going in, simply recognizing their presence. Words were difficult. But that had always been the case for Thaidakar in some way. Words, to be heard, had to be rhythmic. They could not stand as the shadows around him. "Words," Thaidakar said, "Are like booze. Too little and you're left wanting more, too much and you wish you hadn't even began. The definition of either changes in every scenario. You have to be lucky to get the right ones. In a sense, words are a chameleon of fortune." He stood, turning to the group of people, noting the expressions on their face. "As booze is the glue that holds a good party together, words are the glue which holds humanity together. "And it is also the weapon which destroys it." Thaidakar drew in a breath of the ever growing stuffier air of the corridor, dust intermixing as feet pattered upon the ground, sending it up in musky clouds. Thaidakar's hand tightened on the handle of the door, flexing over the rotund edges. "Yet there are times when booze, and therefore words, fail. There are times when we falter with our words and when the booze does not have the intended result." Thaidakar ripped open the door, revealing a green night sky with shifting constellations and distant shapes. For a moment, everything seemed to freeze and Thaidakar said, "In those moments, actions, and, consequently, a swift punch to the other person's gut, are superior to words." With a loud burst of air, everyone in the hallway were sucked violently towards the void by a sort of vacuum in reality. He leapt into the air, falling back into the void with a grin on his face. He fell as if onto a canvas, growing slowly smaller to those who were still flying towards the door, "Wouldn't you agree?" @The Bookwyrm @The Aspiring Archivist @Ancient Elantrian @Spark of Hope @anyone else who was in this scene.

Do I haaaave to?

HES MY ART DADDY - @Kajsa

But whyyyy

*hides behind @Immortal Platypus*

… I swear. Ik what you’re doing. Is darth Vader evil?

Neither did Thaidakar. All that he knew at the moment was that he wanted to leave, and as fast as possible. It was ironic. He'd just recently come back from an extended leave, but now he was off again. Anywhere. As long as he was alone. Thaidakar fell to the ground on his knees in front of a door, finally. Alone. He knew logically that bookwyrm was behind him, he knew logically that there were people that wanted to help him in some way. He knew all of these things. Yet there is a deeper knowledge that lies in all of us. A knowledge of being, a thing that lies in our souls. Thaidakar knew that, in several experiences, he was more alone than a man can be in reality. The door in front of him was more familiar to him than his right hand. a red glowing tear fell to the ground, burning through the stone tile.

........ no. Kaladin deserves to live and have a happy ending! if he doesn't have a happy ending by book ten, I am going to go storm Brandon's house, no matter how ancient I am by then.

@Spark of Hope @Experience @Edema Rue @Aeoryi @Immortal Platypus @NameIess @Bejarden @SmilingPanda19 @SashaBlue @DarkAlphaWolf12 @_Zer0____ @Deathicorn Your welcome.

Thaidakar stopped in midair abruptly, going to the ground to stand there. He grabbed the walls with both hands and shot energy through them. The energy threw itself into the floor, ripping it up into a wall between Bookwyrm and Thaidakar. He leapt up and kept flying

*whacks with newspaper*

Yeah, there we go.

I think I might have an answer, even though I’m straight. Feel free to correct me if I’m wrong. Being in a closet could be like being ashamed of being x while knowing you are x. Egg might be that you haven’t grown into the idea yet or haven’t thought of yourself as x yet.

Well, yeah, but you’re pinging people so much that others will wind up posting too.

41. Laundry