| Ire... sort of. Ire and I are at odds over whether or not this is him. (See inside) |
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Untitled but importantNagi had given every part of the facility a name. Most of them weren't complimentary but Nagi prided himself on staying away from the kitschy crap like Tortuous Tunnel or Screaming Symposium. Kitschy alliteration was out of place here anyway.Untitled but important
He was making his way down Windowless Corridor #4, following the path of perfectly symmetrical sky-gray tiles that extended before him. The lack of windows always threw him off a little and he had to reorient himself with the time on his phone instead of a window. Sun on the left, good, sun on the right, bad. Left meant night was falling, right meant day was coming, and if he were still in here wh
by ~who-the-moon-is
DelugeThe rain had been falling for two weeks, encouraging the grass to grow vigorously green in the gardens but leaving the dirt paths almost too muddy to navigate. Tern picked his way carefully towards the small white gazebo that sat in the center of the gardens like an autumn flower, a shelter from the rain. He had to get out of that stuffy council-room before he went crazy.Deluge
That morning, Tern's father had caught sight of him crossing the main hall with a thick novel and called out to him. Andre, his father's primary advisor, had stopped his explanation reluctantly as the king motioned his son over, declaring that Tern was fourteen now, h
by ~who-the-moon-is
Your premise was flawedHow stupid was he? Ire almost groaned with relief as Matthard finally shuffled to the side of the table and picked up a chair. Yes, it probably hurt the aristocrat's already injured shoulder to heft a chair but Ire was beyond moving. If he had a clear view of the man's face, he probably would have laughed, very carefully, at its expression. Matthard probably couldn't believe what he had woken up to, whereas Ire viewed it as nothing more than Matthard's habitual bad luck. At least the other man wasn't silly enough to let a four-footed ticket to unconsciousness go to waste. Liquid dripped between Ire's fingers and ran down his chest whereYour premise was flawed
by ~who-the-moon-is
The best of all possible ideas"Are you sure this is the best idea we could have?" The question was probably rhetorical, Selah decided and in any case, even if it wasn't the best idea they could have come up with, it was too late to change their minds now.The best of all possible ideas
Not with her hugging the sheer outside wall of the castle, edging along a crumbly ledge that was only half a foot wide, while Matthard clung to the other end of the rope. She hoped fervently that he was clinging to it anyways. One small misstep could put her plummeting over the castle wall towards the market square and she didn't want to find out then that her companion had been having a tea break. "Ye
by ~who-the-moon-is
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- Current Residence: California for school and Washington for home
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- Interests: God, writing, drawing, reading, musicals, friends
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- Favourite genre of music: Showtunes and JPOP
- Favourite artist: On DA? Saimain.
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Art ~EquinaSephine
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I am "Giggly Pokey Thing" according to Crenen.
And Tern is "Pricky Leery Brat".
Crenen certainly has a talent for names...
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Always go here: [link]
My website: [link]
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I'm a pathological liar. Honest.
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Beyond the Mist: [link]
Shameless self-promotion is the cornerstone of humanity.
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I am "Giggly Pokey Thing" according to Crenen.
And Tern is "Pricky Leery Brat".
Crenen certainly has a talent for names...
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"Writers aren't exactly people...they're a whole lot of people trying to be one person." --F. Scott Fitzgerald.
"Writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia." --E.L. Doctorow.
It really does help to get me out of a rut and is much appreciated.
Hopefully I’ll have some new stuff up soon, so drop by anytime.
Thanks again.
your obt’
me
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Faith, Trust, and Pixie Dust.
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