Keteᛕ

This is all original. I'm making it up as I go. Edit: Add this under line break at end of chapter 2: ___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Whill blew the sawdust off of his equipment. Em had finally left about an hour before, and since then he had been shaking too much to continue working. Whill couldn’t eat that evening. He didn’t sleep that night. For tomorrow he would have to visit the Bureau.

Jax had been like Whill’s parent for his entire life. Their mother and father had both disappeared a few days after Whill was born, and Jax had run away from the orphanage to take care of Whill himself. And he had done a damn good job. Whill remembered Jax sneaking out to grab food every morning for the two of them, trying to make sure that he didn’t wake up. Jax had taught him everything he knew, and when the day came that he had turned 18, Whill desperately tried to keep Jax from going to the Bureau of Shaping. In Taring, all males, on the day they turned 18, were required to go to the Bureau of Shaping, to be assigned their roles. If one did not show up, they were assigned a death penalty. There were 5 roles. The best role was Shaped- they were granted extrasensory abilities, and were of the highest social class. After that, there was Mused- Mused became wealthy business owners and politicians. Third was Tried- they were the middle class of Taring, having enough money to feed their families, with some spending money left over. Then there was Burdened- the factory workers, always struggling to get by. Finally there was Snapped. The mysterious role. Deemed the worst possible. But Whill knew what had happened to Jax. He saw it with his own eyes. As soon as Jax had stepped onto the platform, Whill was forced to watch as his brother, his mentor, was subjected to the worst role that could be assigned. Snapped. Jax had been taken to a room, and while no one knew exactly what happened to Snapped, it was obvious. They went into the room, and they never came out. Whill had been living alone ever since. He had been given the name Elias at birth, but Jax had always nicknamed him Whill, and since that fateful day, he had refused to be called anything else. Because that name was the last thing, besides the desk, that he had left of Jax.

This is my first try at writing pretty much anything in fiction.

@Verdance @CoderDrag0n8 @Ink and Embers @Usseewa

Alright, I'm trying it out! SHAPER- Chapter 1 Whill breathed in the sawdust-heavy air of the workshop. It was an early morning, but then again, wasn't it always an early morning? He picked up his gloves from the desk- the desk he had finished with- with---- He shook his head, trying to block out those thoughts. Dangerous thoughts. He put on the gloves, turning towards the back of the shop. Whill had always been a scrawny boy, and even at 17, he was still shorter than most kids his age. That didn’t matter though, because he didn’t know them all too well. He yanked the sheet off of his creation. The thing he had worked on for the last year. It was a complex structure of wood planks, nails, and joints, made for the purpose of… well, Whill wasn’t sure what it was supposed to do yet. It just felt right. He grabbed the saw and got to work. The back door creaked open. The sound was so soft, so insignificant that anyone else would have just ignored it. But Whill wasn’t anyone else. “Em, you could have knocked rather than sneaking in. It’s polite.” He rasped, turning towards the sound. The girl, Em, stood in the doorway. She froze. “Again, Elias? How’d you hear me?” She had red hair, the color of burnt maple leaves, and had a lanky figure. She was in the rift below Whill, but she still was half a foot taller than him. “Why do you talk like that, anyways? It makes you sound old.” “This is my normal voice.” He said, glaring, “Also, don’t call me by my Luxe. My name is Whill.” He turned to go back to his carpentry, but she spoke again. “Oh, quit being so sour. You haven’t left the shop since Jax-” She stopped as Whill cut her off. “This is not about my brother! I’m not here because he Snapped. I don’t care what it looks like!” Tears stung at Whill’s eyes, but Em couldn’t see them because he was turned away. It wasn’t about Jax. He wasn’t grieving. He looked back at the desk that they had made, all those years ago. Whill wanted to make another desk. He wanted to throw that piece-- that piece of garbage out. It wasn’t about Jax’s Snap. "It's -n-not about- J-Jax" He stuttered, but the tears were already flowing.

What would you actually vote?

Wat.

For legal purposes I think your a joke

I wouldn't post often

Idk a novella/ ongoing story

Can I join as a Constellation?

Ah, I understand

Alr. Answer the poll.

Coder. I opened the shard. And the clicked and visited this notification. And then there was the number 0 in the Notification symbol. 0? What did you do to break my shard?

When one opens a notebook. To a fresh, blank sheet. When they have a sole outlook Of what they plan to complete. Each new line, each new page. Is a creation, an endeavor. It can wither, It can age, But the intent is forever. A writing, a drawing Or just a reminder. Is the maker's new calling. That is left to the finder. And though the page may rip, And though the ink may smudge And though the book may be lost. And though the marks may fade... When one opens a notebook, It'll be there, what was made.

Lung cancer

"Soulbuilders, yet as far as I know, I'm the only one who's been able to bond." Westward turns to Arc. "No, it's fine. I just wish I knew another progressionspren." "Yes, there are other orders that can use the surge of Illusion, but our order is the only one who can gift Conduction!'

Smoky the Bear

Who knows that @Unintelligenius had the Sandwich. Who steals the sandwich back and gives it to @Unintelligenius Then Who goes back to first.

Kaladist doesn't care about logic. Kaladist kills yet another bee, and then throws the dead bee at @Ink and Embers "Screw pollination!"

Westward stutters, and blinks twice. "Umm, Like being a progressionspren or just being a spren overall?" Aesthetic, Texture, and Healing-without-Medicine excuse themselves and leave.

Oh seminars on monday, Precal's tuesday, and I already had AP world history last thursday. I hate high school and I'm only in 10th grade.

Westward grinned. "Good, you?"

Yes. Math art. (Guys no more poems today I've got AP PreCal to study for.