Things I 💕

Characters of Born to the Sea: Vaelen (PoV Character)

“A beast that doesn’t know what it truly is.” [The Hunter]  

GHOST. SURVIVOR. LOVER. WEAPON.

❖ The black cliffs of the Obsidian Bay rose out of the water and glittered in the sunlight like cut glass. Home. He did not want to be anywhere else.

❖ No matter what happened, he would not kneel. Not to anyone.

❖ For one painful moment he saw Laudan. His gaze touched his. He was the sun, but one did not look into the sun.

❖ Two winters he had longed for the truth. Those missing parts that would somehow make him whole. Now he wished for nothing more than to break the stream of memories that poured down on him, killing the man he once was.

❖ This was not his magic, not the gentle melody which had accompanied him for years. This was something else. Something that left the taste of ash on his tongue. Of blood. And death.

Born to the Sea explores a dark, twisted fate between lovers and a truth so harsh, that it might have been better if it didn’t come to light.

[Wip Tag | Caliyan | Laudan | Vaelen]  

My days work for camp Nano. Potentially, part of chapter 3. Have a tired seer, who has had enough of all this.

[WIP: Iron and Gold] [ch: Maryana]

Cw (if necessary) for death of small animals (birds). < 700 words.

*

This time, it came with an omen.

Maryana had just passed through the Eastern Courtyard, heading to the smaller, more peaceful shrine of Avin, the mountain god, that was nested into the mountainside. She cast a short glance up, checking the sky for the approaching storm, when she froze. Birds. There were small birds, a huge flock of them, flying not straight, but in long-stretched ellipses, back and forth, as if they were forced into an involuntary dance, forced together and apart. Not a dance. A fight.

War was upon them.

Tell me something I don’t know, Maryana thought bitterly. And leave these birds alone for that matter. I’ve literally just talked about this war with our queen. 

Above her head, the birds retreated like the tides of an ocean, just to come back forward and mingle once more. 

Maryana looked away, set her gaze back onto the mountain path before. She was sick of omens, sick of interpreting signs of Gods she didn’t want to talk to or of sprits who were less pretentious than Gods, but had even less to tell. Behind this message were either the Twin Gods, foreboding a war she already knew about, or a bored wind spirit, eager to get some attention. It didn’t matter. Watching it, trying to listen, would end in pain and a headache. She wouldn’t care. She’d do what Great King and Great Queen asked of her, but she wouldn’t let herself forced into things by higher beings, not as she once had many years ago, on a tiny island before Sidros. Since then, the Gods owed her.

She pulled up her orange robe with one hand to climb over a brittle black rock, to the steep path that would lead her way to the shrine. Avin was a small deity, bound to a single place, with few followers and little ambition. Their sanctuary was a place of rest, and she needed that, after the darknight. After Farzad.

If she was lucky, she’d make it there before the storm.

With a small thud, something soft fell onto the rocky ground next to her. The sound was sickening, wet and squishy, and Maryana knew what it was, before she even turned to look. A bird had plummeted from the sky, a small beautifully feathered bird, light red with darker speckles, its little body and wings broken from the impact. Dead.

Something tightened around her chest, as she looked up once more.

The birds had become even more, a dense shape of them, darkening the sky even further. The form of the flock shifted, up and down, like waves in the ocean. Or - She squinted and hated herself for wondering about it. Like dunes in the desert. She recognized shapes of the landscape, modeled and alive in the sky, ridges and formations she had seen before.

No, she thought. Please, no, I don’t want this. Still, she couldn’t look away. There was something else, another bird, a large white one, starkly contrasting the others, gliding above the landscape, like a wanderer.

A low rumble came from the clouds, thunder, in a part of the desert that wasn’t used to seeing rain. A cool gust tugged at Maryana’s robes and she wrapped her thin shawl closer around her shoulders.

The white bird cawed, or maybe all of them did - she couldn’t distinguish it, from the distance, but sounded like both triumph and despair.

Lightning struck, and for a short moment, the world fell silent.

Then, along with the deafening crash of thunder, all birds fell from the sky, hundreds, thousands, raining onto desert and mountain.

Panicked screams rose from the city and the camps beneath it, quickly smoothed by commanding shouts, guiding everyone inside.

Maryana’s hands were clutched into her shawl, jaw clenched shut, yet she couldn’t fight the tears welling up in her eyes. The sky over her began to clear, no birds, clouds drifting apart. For a second, a single ray of sunshine broke through the clouds, fell on the white stone walls of the temple of Ma'ar.

The god of death wanted to speak.

I decided to take part in Camp Nano in July to start drafting my high Fantasy WIP Iron and Gold, and there’s much to do before that… so:

Until Wednesday, I aim to:

Get a rough idea of the entire plot in a way that guides me through writing and know what’s next each day in July

Get some worldbuilding done by designing some core facts about: (a) the satrapies of the Free Cities, Essa, Asharia; (b) the neighboring countries of Kallion and Masar; © the cities Serrah, Essa, Payaz-Avin and Sidros; (d) the most important Ashari tribes 

Decide what the hell I will do with Ilara (and if I change her name to Elara because honestly the succession of the “I” and the “l” confuses my reading sense - oops

come up with some more side characters to use when need, but I guess that runs parallel with figuring out the plot

Ballad of the Cursed Character Intro: Caithan

Basics; 24 years old, she/her, white, blue-grey eyes and brown hair, lesbian, a dro hean (her mother is a fairy, her father is human)

Facts: when fairy magic was outlawed seven years ago, she fled to Canglin (or the Forsaken Lands), losing her mother and younger sister in the process; lives now secluded in a cabin at the edge of a forest with a small village down the hill; because she’s part fairy, she’s able to harvest magic from sources which she sells for good coin; has survived three assassins; a scar runs down her right cheek from a wound that nearly blinded her; always carries a hatchet and dagger at her belt; devoted to her gods, especially the Queen of Gods; appears calm and cool on the outside, but there’s a never ending storm brewing inside her; loves her little cabin and decorates it with souvenirs of her journeys, but she’s restless, never stays long and travels a lot; plots her revenge

Snippet under the cut:

The Five Senses | protagonist of the first arc | 3rd person narrator

Ilona, she/her, 17 years old

blonde hair, blue eyes, muscly

Second Inner Circle of Touch - gifted with touch

five facts: likes seagulls, determined, forgetful of her gloves, not familiar with her gift, loyal

people in her life: mother (father deceased), Jonas her best friend and brother in heart, Lily her best friend

her role in the story: After losing everything in her life, she keeps going in hope to give Jonas his soul back which she took. If she has to overthrow the king to reach her goal, she’ll do that too.

A soul can turn dark pretty quickly…

Excerpt under the cut | 1st chapter | Ilona and Jonas get ready to leave their hometown

After a complete rotation of my projects, some longer breaks and my recent return to writeblr, I figured it’s time for a re-intro to this wonderful and ever-changing community.

— ABOUT ME

I’m Sara, 33 years old, using she/her pronouns and happy bisexual; a mathematician working in IT management by day and a passionate writer with too many characters and too little plot by night. I live in Germany, but write in English, and sometimes I wonder, if that’s a bad idea. 

I’ve been (more or less) active on writeblr for about three years and burnt through many WIP beginnings and few endings since then. 

— ABOUT MY WRITING

I write short fiction for events like the wonderful @flashfictionfridayofficial (masterlist of my stories here) but in truth dream of finishing a novel.

Most my stories feature female protagonists and LGBTQIA*-characters, contain fantasy elements, and explore themes of free will, friendship and sacrifice. 

Current WIP is…

Iron and Gold, an adult fantasy set in the late Iron Age vaguely inspired by the Ancient Middle East, featuring a seer with too many secrets, a loyal and kind warrior, an evil sorcerer and the God of Death.

On the backburner right now…

Chasing Demons, an urban fantasy story about a female homicide detective who was consensually possessed by a sassy, immortal demon and now has to find said demon while at the same time investigating a series of supernatural murders and keeping two realms from crashing into each other.

Street Magic, a series of interconnected dystopian urban fantasy stories about a traumatized young woman who involuntarily becomes a figurehead of the rebellion against a government that aims to control and contain magic users. It’s dark and angsty, yet full of friendship and hope, and if I’m honest it’s my favorite and maybe even best project.

And the ones that are on hold but still referenced on my blog, some with a lot of content: First Fall (Victorian fantasy with a very entertaining arrogant sorcerer narrator), Where Mages Fall (Old West fantasy epic) and Blackborn (thieves-and-assassins fantasy in a world inspired by a 1900′s Constantinople)

All these WIPs have taglists, so if you want on them, just let me know!

— ABOUT MY WRITEBLR

I regularly post some of my own writing, reblog other writeblr’s content that I enjoy, ramble about my progress, characters and worldbuilding and cheer for my mutuals. When I feel like it, I might also post writing advice, but that’s rather random. Feel free to ask me things, though.

With @kosmosian-quills, I run @yourocsbackstory event and try and participate in every instance of it; it’s an several weeks events offering weekly prompts for writers to explore their characters backstories and it’s always a lot of fun

I also have a German blog, @saraantoni, where not much happens, but this is the place to boost it anyway, I guess. There, supporting @eluari, I also run a biweekly writing event for German Flash Fiction, @blitzgeschichten, which is very cool but I myself participate not often enough.

Every Wednesday, we develop a different area of our fictional worlds together. Inspirational prompts are posted every Wednesday night - and if you’re lucky, you might even learn a little more about the lore from one of my own worlds!

___

Today’s Prompt: What forms of relaxation exist in your world?

What are common methods for relaxation within this world? These could be games, bonfire cookouts, meditation, etc. Are there any specialized methods specific to your world? For example, a fantasy world might have magic-infused massages, while a sci-fi world might have invented a machine that forces your body to destress.

How is relaxation viewed within the cultures of this world? For example, one culture might value hard work, and thus, belittle relaxation as weakness and laziness. A society of affluent people, however, might have more time for luxuries and lost time.

___

Want to participate in Worldbuilding Wednesday? Reblog this post with your response to the above prompt so I can feature it on my blog and engage more with your about your character!

Want to suggest a future question? Feel free to DM me (@homesteadchronicles) with any comments, questions or feedback about this project! My inbox is always open.

writeblr introduction

Hi! My name’s Mel (not my actual name), and I’m quite new to Tumblr ; this is my first writeblr and I’m still discovering the website, but since the very moment I found out there was a writing community, I wanted to be part of it since it looked so great. So here we go!

|| me, myself and I ||

🐉 — I’m a straight eighteen year old girl from Lausanne (Switzerland), so English isn’t my first language but I love it and got quite used to it. I’m currently finishing highschool, hoping to get my certificate this year ; then I’ll probably start studying linguistics in university.

🪶— I’ve been writing since I was around ten, lots of fantasy and sometimes dystopians, and recently finished my first book (out of way too many) as a school project. I absolutely love writing, and I dream of becoming a full-time writer.

📚— I also enjoy listening to a lot of music (and often end up putting it in my writing, since it always gives me ideas) and my favorites are epic orchestrals and metal (my favorite band is Within Temptation 🎵), reading (mostly fantasy as well, but I’d read anything really), getting lost on Pinterest in search for inspiration, and watching way too much YouTube.

💻— I’ve started this blog to reach out to more writers, chat about writing, OCs, WIPs, and share the writing misery and fun with anyone who’s interested really :)

|| current WIPs ||

I currently have way too many WIPs and ideas, some are in English and others are in French (specified in the synopsis).

🌸 Lotus On The River

Language : English

YA, High Fantasy ; almost finished drafting book one of the planned trilogy (wip intro here!)

Nineteen year old Jahzara is a Dancer. She has been dancing all her life, in her birthcity of Karella, capital of the realm of Anderell, and has even been appointed as prince Adarian’s partner and teacher. Like every year, the nobles and lords of the realm gather in the capital to renew treaties with the King, and Jahzara and Adarian are to perform in front of them. Everything goes to plan until one night, during which the King is mysteriously murdered. Jahzara, the prince and their friends decide to investigate ; but is this assassination a petty act of revenge, or part of something much bigger, linked to an incoming threat from the neighboring warlands of Varandar?

❄️ Ice Fingers

Language : English

YA, High Fantasy, early drafting (wip intro here!)

In the cold days and nights of the village of Dalir, Eiryn is a woodcarver apprentice, and doesn’t like anything more than spending her afternoons carving and sculpting branches into patterns and scenes and stories. Her best friend Nevrel left years before to go and seek a new life in the capital city, Eyjara, and they often write to each other. That is, until a group of soldiers from Eyjara come to Dalir to ask Eiryn for help : Nevrel, who had found a place as a guard in the palace, had mysteriously set a neighborhood on fire and is now missing, along with the crown prince...

🔥 Burning Tears

Language : English

YA, High Fantasy, early drafting (wip intro here!)

Nevrel used to play in the woods and mounts with Eiryn, exploring every little corner and bush he could find. But one day, he finds something completely different in a set of old ruins, something that will change his life forever... but how could he have known? (Parallel to Ice Fingers, the same story told by Nevrel’s point of view.)

🗡 I Desire

Language : English

YA, High Fantasy, planning series

Set in the future of Ice Fingers and Burning Tears. Young princess Nikkal will have to do whatever it takes to protect her kingdom from the threat of a massive war that looms in from the shadows... could it be related to Eiryn and Nevrel’s story, that took place twenty-seven years before ?

☀️ Chronicles of the Enlightened Lands

Language : French

YA, High Fantasy, first book finished, planned trilogy

Asheal is perfectly happy living by herself with her loyal dragon Pyros and little fox cub Feli, thank you very much. At least that way, she doesn’t set anything on fire by accident. But one night, a boy named Javan comes to find her, and reveals her fire-related powers are not unique : she is part of four teenagers her age, each one blessed with one of the four elements that they hold in them. They must set across the continent to find their Gems and unlock their full capabilities. Only, a council of lords and kings, who already formed an alliance, gives them another task : to rally the remaining kings and sovereigns, so that all realms of the Enlightened Lands can fight together against whatever enemy is creeping towards them from behind the northern mountains...

Here ! I will make intro posts about each WIP to explain the plot and the characters more in detail; I’m looking forward to hearing from anybody who wants to, and please tell me if you want to be tagged for any updates ! 😊

Ballad of the Cursed ❖ Eadinn

“Queen Sionait,” her mother said, “she believes it is a trick of the fairies. Vengeance. It had to happen one day.”

“Nonsense!” Eadinn threw her hand up. “Magic has a will of its own. The mist is too powerful to be the doing of fairies.”

“How can you be so certain? Fairies are cunning and wicked.”

Something split inside of her, a shard lodging behind her ribcage. A hooded figure appeared before her inner eye, the one of her visions, a familiar figure she had last seen when she had been fifteen, now a young woman like herself. Swiftly, she had moved through an overgrown forest as though she was on the run, but she hadn’t felt fear. 

Themes | Fate, free will, sacrifice, war, courage, power and responsibility 

Genre & Audience | Adult Fantasy 

Setting | Ancient history in Asharia, a vast empire founded by a dynasty of nomadic conquerors. Deserts, mountains, and influential coastal towns. Mythical birds, rare magic powers and gods that like to meddle with human affairs.

Characters (+ plot)

Maryana | 29 | she/her | bisexual | seer | protagonist

Maryana is a seer, a tribute and slave to the Great Queen, highly perceptive to magic and visions. In the luxury of the Imperial court, she tries to bury the secrets of her past. However, powers like hers can’t stay hidden forever, and as an unprecedented threat to the Empire arises, she finds herself not only torn between warring royals but also a tool in the hands of a god.

Farzad | 32 | he/him | bisexual | sorcerer | antagonist

Farzad is a king, youngest and most powerful son of a royal dynasty, cast out by his siblings to rule the meaningless town of Essa. From there, he plots to overthrow the Empire. But somehow, fate seems to be faster than him when he discovers an ancient evil ready to destroy mankind.

Ramin | 24 | he/him  | demisexual | warrior | deuteragonist

Ramin is the son of shepherds, honored to have been chosen to be a warrior in the Great Queen’s guard. Steady and loyal, he doesn’t hesitate, when he’s selected for a secret mission to defend the kingdom - until he finds out, that those who sent him may not have the Queen’s best interest at heart after all.

Ma'ar | eternal | they/he | asexual | god | side character 

Ma'ar is the god of death and dreams, eternal and arrogant. He knows past, present and future - and the future is bleak and hopeless. In an attempt to save mankind (or at least those believing in him), he must alter the course of destiny and lead two humans into a desperate fight that even gods can’t win.

(Links beneath the cut; ask if you want to be added to the tag list)

Fairy Starlight

for @flashfictionfridayofficial​

This is for Ballad of the Cursed, a wip that I briefly worked on last year and am now reviving. Hope you enjoy this little insight into the world! (~480 words)

All was hushed in the abandoned settlement. The wooden huts had long decayed. Moss and ivy crawled across the low stone walls that snaked through the settlement. No fairy had lived here in a hundred years, much longer most likely. Nowadays, meeting a fairy in these lands was rare. They mostly lived now in eastern Tamore where the forests were dense, the mountains high, and where they weren’t bothered by the queen’s soldiers.

To Caithan, this settlement had become so familiar that it almost felt like returning home. With the wind tugging on her fur cloak, she roamed the empty pathways between the low walls. She had always enjoyed the silence, yet here it was something else entirely. Here, she felt an odd comfort, a belonging she wouldn’t be able to describe to anyone. It wasn’t home, but once her mother’s people had lived here. It might be that her own ancestors had dwelled in one of these huts.

A contribution to this Flash Fiction Friday 50th anniversary, @flashfictionfridayofficial​ - love you guys!

Urban fantasy with one (or actually two, it’s hard to decide) new OCs… Enjoy! 

521 words, cw for mention of non-consentual kissing (in an.. odd way)

—

The moments after the kiss are the strangest. Every time. The tiny flicker of doubt, if it has worked, if the kiss was deep enough, if she has passed over.

Of course, as usual, she has. I search for her, she’s gone, and the feeling of being alone in my body sends out an endorphin rush very few drugs can match. I should be able to tell - a few hundred years in a livestyle such as mine give you the chance to try lots of drugs. But well. In any way, demons will always kick in more.

I sip at my colorful drink, look at the fragmented lights of the disco balls above my head, and enjoy the peaceful emptiness in my mind. Wander back to the memories of the men and women I have loved, without a judgemental voice from inside me commenting on their vices. That voice is somewhere else right now. Dealing with a man I most certainly will not remember. His hand is still entangled in my hair, but it has turned limp, as has his body, slumped into the red leather couch. Only the flicker of his eyes tells he’s still there. And in pain. I smile softly. She has a way of doing this. Especially to those who don’t ask. In that case, she won’t just stop with gathering intel. Those who just grab my hair, push me back, and force themselves on me. They suffer.

“Got the address”, the man says finally, his voice strained, but the tone cheerful nonetheless. “Now, can I kill him?”

I shake my head and take another sip. “Can’t afford the fallout. Just make him forget our face and get back.”

The man’s body half shrugs, the nonchalant gesture thwarted by the panic in his eyes. “Whatev”, he says, before he tilts his head, presenting me his bare neck. His lips part most seductively, and he closes his eyes as if in anticipation.

A smile plays at my lips. “I like it when you do that”, I whisper, as I carefully push some strands of hair back from his his face.

She likes it as well, judging by the moan my touch elicits.

Slowly, I lean in and my lips find his.

As beautiful it is being without her, having her back after we were separated is something else entirely. She slips back, and I am whole again, back with myself, my powers, my other half. An address flares up in my subconscious, images of weapons being loaded to trucks, of security cameras and guards. Perfect. Our next target.

The man stares at me, wide-eyed and pale. “What… What just happened?”

I’d have loved to eat him, the demon mutters.

I know. But we’re well fed, I reply, while I reach into my purse. And remember, we love our job here.

With a smirk, I snap open my badge.

“Mr. Murphy, say goodbye to your club. You’re under arrest for arms smuggling.”

His fingers touch his lips, and he stares from my face to my badge and back.

“You’re a…” His voice trails off.

“Yeah”, I say. I am.

für @blitzgeschichten

Marlena lehnt sich mit einem Seufzen gegen das Geländer und schaut dann mit genervten Augen zu mir.

„Es ist schon wieder Nacht“, sagt sie und in ihrem Ton schwingt der Vorwurf mit.

„Nächte sind schön“, ist alles was ich darauf antworten kann. Die Nacht trägt die Sterne in sich, den Mond, die Stille. Das Gefühl, dass nichts so wirklich wichtig ist, das alles ein bisschen vergessen lässt.

„Ich will wieder die Sonne sehen. Du hast es mir versprochen.“

„Versprechen kann sich jeder mal.“

Sie schnauft nur neben mir und starrt in die Ferne. Von dem Balkon aus lässt sich fast die ganze Gegend sehen. Tagsüber, wenn die Sonne das Flussbett schimmern lässt und die grünen Wälder voller Leben die goldene Kraft auftanken. Zumindest hat es das letzte mal so ausgesehen, als es Tag war.

„Und morgen?“, fragt sie jetzt und klingt ein bisschen niedergeschlagen. „Oder wenigstens irgendetwas anderes als sternklarer Himmel.“

„Du hast immer gesagt, dass dir die Sterne gefallen“, flüstere ich. Als könnten meine Worte plötzlich etwas heraufbeschwören, wenn sie zu laut sind. Als ob sie dann eine neue Bedeutung bekämen.

„Das war mal. Jetzt kotzen sie mich an“, antwortet sie, und ich brauche nicht hinzusehen um zu wissen, dass sie weint.

„Wie wäre es mit Regen?“, schlage ich vor und die Wolken brechen über uns zusammen, lassen das Wasser auf uns fallen.

„Jetzt ist es noch dunkler“, beschwert sie sich und sie hat Recht. Jegliches Licht vom Nachthimmel wird von dem Unwetter verschluckt, sodass wir uns nun in absoluter Finsternis befinden.

„Dir passt es nicht, egal was ich mache.“

„Du weißt ganz genau, was ich will.“

In der Dunkelheit finden sich unsere Augen, ihre voller Wut. Einen Blick, den ich nur flüchtig von ihr kenne. Es wundert mich fast, dass ich mich noch so genau daran erinnern kann. So sehr, dass ich für den Bruchteil einer Sekunde glaube, sie wäre echt.

„Es spielt keine Rolle, was du willst.“ Das meine ich nicht herablassend. Es ist eher Resignation, Hoffnungslosigkeit, Müdigkeit.

„Ich verstehe nicht, warum ich dann hier bin.“

Nichts, was ich darauf sagen könnte. Stattdessen schaue ich zurück in die Ferne und lausche dem Regen. Ein gute Idee, der Regen. Ein bisschen Abwechslung ist in der Tat ganz nett.

„Wolltest du nicht weglaufen?“, fragt sie dann etwas zögerlich.

„Tue ich doch.“

„Du versteckst dich hier. Das hat nichts mit Laufen zu tun. Im Gegenteil, du steckst fest.“

„Erfüllt aber den gleichen Zweck.“

Marlena macht ein abfälliges Geräusch, das Antwort genug ist und setzt sich auf den kalten Boden. Sie macht das immer, wenn es ihr zu viel wird, und auf einmal ist es das für mich ebenso. Die Kälte, die feuchte Luft, das Rauschen des Unwetters. Stille. Der sternklare Himmel ist zurück. Der Mond ist dieses Mal voller als zuvor, ein bisschen heller.

„Ich warte irgendwo auf dich. Du hast versprochen, dass du mir folgst“, erinnert Marlena in die Ruhe der Nacht.

„Du wirst mir nicht verzeihen. Es müssen Monate gewesen sein.“

„Natürlich würde ich das verzeihen. Selbst, wenn es Jahre wären.“

„Sag das nicht.“

„Wieso? Weil du dann keinen Grund mehr hast dich in diesem Nichts zu verstecken? Weil du dann das Versprechen halten müsstest, das du mir gegeben hast?“

Ihre Hände finden meine, reichen ein bisschen zu mir hoch bis ich nachgebe und mich neben sie hocke. Sie wandern, finden mein Gesicht, liegen sanft auf meiner Wange.

„Was hält dich dann zurück?“

Tränen treten ungebeten in meine Augen, heiß auf meiner Haut gegen die kalte Luft der Nacht.

„Ich bin so müde. Ich schaffe das einfach nicht.“

„Das hier ist keine echte Nacht. Keine in der du schlafen kannst. Solange du nicht aufwachst, kannst du keine Ruhe finden.“

Nichts, das ich nicht schon wüsste. Natürlich nicht. Es ist nicht so, als könnte sie irgendetwas sagen, dass ich nicht auch selber wüsste.

Vorsichtig schaut sie mir in die Augen – nun wieder so sanft, wie ich sie am meisten kannte – lehnt sich nach vorn und legt einen Kuss auf meine Stirn. Wischt mit ihren Fingern die Tränen von meiner Haut.

„Lauf für mich. Bitte. Wach auf und lauf. Komm zu mir. Ich warte, versprochen.“

Ich nicke, würde ich sprechen, würde nur meine Stimmer versagen. Der Mond wird heller, bis er golden ist. Gleißend. Bringt Farbe und den Lärm des Tages.

Marlenas Berührung ist nur noch wie ein Phantom auf meiner Haut. Es bleibt nichts mehr übrig, außer aufzuwachen und zu gehen. So lange, bis sie wieder bei mir ist.

- character introduction -

29 years old | she/her | bisexual | seer | tribute to the king

Maryana is from one of the Empire's newest provinces and has been sent to the Great King as a tribute. She's a seer, highly perceptive to magic visions from gods and ghosts.

Both Great King and Great Queen highly rely on her services as a counselor, translator and messenger.

She is content with her luxurious life at the Imperial Court and loyal to her masters. However, she's always hiding - her past, the true extent of her gift, and the deep connection running between her and the Empire's greatest enemy.

She has trouble sleeping, for her mind can be easily influenced by nightmares, and those who can control them.

Characteristics: calm, elegant, diplomatic, sensual, manipulative

Fears: betrayal (her own), losing her life at court, nightmares, snakes

Weaknesses: too many secrets, a taste for luxury, a dependency on narcotics

cw: There is a dead person in this, a little blood, and grief. Take care <3 for @flashfictionfridayofficial

-

The steps came to a halt right before Elodea, the sharp heeled boots nearly touched her leg. Still, she could not dare to look up – was not ready for what would happen if she dared to do so.

“You know, there’s another way,” the warm voice said into the echoing room. There was a gentle tease to it. As if she was luring her from a far away place.

“I don’t care about a different way!” Elodea yelled, her voice harsh and broken, so cold in contrast to the other. Her anger was of little consequence. The other just laughed, not even in a condescending manner.

“I once said that as well, you know?” She moved away from her, her feet the most Elodea allowed herself to glimpse at. “I once was in the very same position as you are now. I still remember that feeling of heartbreak. It was so dull in contrast to all the other emotions.”

There were other emotions.

“The rage at those who betrayed you.”

She did feel rage.

“The rage at your beloved for leaving you too soon, no matter if it was his fault or not.”

So much rage.

“The guilt for feeling that way, for failing him.”

Guilt weighed so heavily on her shoulders.

“And the fear! Oh, so much fear! Fear of them, fear of me, and most importantly: the fear of what you might do.”

It was paralysing.

She tightened the grip on the body in her lap. His blood had stained her clothes, turned cold long ago. Elodea knew that she could not cower like this forever, that, at some point, she would have to let go, let him go, and move away from where his sweet blood and her salty tears had penetrated the ground in ways that could never be erased.

She had not noticed that the other had come so close, suddenly kneeling right next to her. One of her hands on hers.

“Elodea. You may feel like that old fire inside of you is dying. I can’t deny that the future will be dark, maybe darker than anything you have known before. But no matter how lost you may be now, there will always be a new light. It does not need to be your own. Take the first golden beams of sunlight of a new morning. Wait for a new dawn and take it to your advantage. Be selfish, Elodea. Stay with me.”

With a gasp, she looked up and met the other’s eyes.

“Nepenthes- I-”

She felt how her body was helped up, how his body dropped fully to the ground. The hug pushed the air out of her lungs, and still she leaned into it.

“I will take care of you. Let us fight back together. We might be villains in their eyes, so be it. Let’s be the weed that overgrows their orderly gardens. Destroy the ways they love to walk. Put an end to their terror.” Nepenthes looked at her with great determination. There was no way to say no to her. To the fierce belief that stood behind her actions.

Elodea nodded.

Nepenthes grinned.

“Then let’s stop walking the hidden path. Follow me and you will get your revenge.”

She did. She would. The fear left her. Fear of the others, for they should fear her. The fear of Nepenthes who would show her the light instead. And the fear of herself, of what she was capable of, for it was justified and she would know no end.

Yria | Born to the Sea

Meet Yria, one of the side characters from Born to the Sea. I wanted to paint her for so long. So here is a quick portrait of her.

I was tagged by the lovely @akindofmagictoo​. Thank you! You tagged me in quite a few posts, but I’ll just pick one. I don’t have all words and also don’t want to spoil all that I’ve written yet haha.

This is for Sage and Spirit! The words are: heart, heavy, hold and home.

heart

“Let the people believe in something,” Senan said with a grin. “Or else they’ll die of boredom.”

She huffed. “I suppose you’re righ– ”

A scream ripped through the air. I whipped my head around to the trees, heart hammering.

“Ounira.” Senan gasped, drew his sword and darted into the grove.

heavy + heart

Imraa stared at me, and for a moment I feared my questions had exposed me. But she couldn’t know. No one could. “In two years, it will be a hundred years ago that the chasm opened. If I kept track of every soul we lost, the grief would make my heart too heavy to carry.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, “I didn’t mean to … ” But my words died on my tongue.

She shook her head. Her smile was so sad that a sting went through my chest. “Death is a part of our life, if we accept it or not.”

hold

I slowed my pace when we entered a hallway with paintings along the walls. Beautiful landscapes of an orchard, a ship swaying on waves and mountains that looked like the ones towering over the city. All I had ever drawn with was coal and chalk, never with colours so vivid. I had never even seen paintings like these. A faint wish took hold of me. If only I had enough time, I could learn this art.

home

“What was your name again?”

“Seriya.” It was odd how easily that name left my lips. It tasted odd, too. Of independence, of freedom. Once again I realised how much I wanted this. To be my own woman, to live however I wanted. I missed Ephelian since the day I had left, but I knew he would wait for me once I returned. I needed this, to be away from everyone, from the home that long ago had stopped feeling like my home.