WIP GAME! (writers)
Saw this on @scribeofskyrim's page and wanted to join in! I've never shared writings before, so no-one would have known to tag me. Afaik, the other game is still live, but I figure this is "two cakes" territory =^.^=
How it works:
⭐️ Pick a 5–8ish letter word and give us an excerpt from your manuscript that begins with each letter!
⭐️ When you're done, tag your friends and give them the same word, or a new one of your choosing!
I choose: SHADOWS, and I'm lifting from "Honour Amongst the Damned" — a short ghost-story that is thinking of being longer?? This bit happens to be from Ancano's point-of-view. Nat is, uh, unavailable.
-----------------------------
S
"Sanyon, go with him."
The pair left without a word, retreating footfalls soon lost in the turbulent weather without.
The house had been strongly haunted when the three Altmer and Morvas had procured it as their base of operations in the plains, and Ancano was certain that the dead had not been laid to rest—
H
He didn't know her name or story. Didn't want to, but often-and-often he'd spied the bitter wraith loitering in the mill, or listening-in during meetings if they didn't drive her off, or yet on dark nights running just above the fields, hair streaming in an otherworldly gale.
Well, the gale was real tonight, and the moons were dark.
A
Always goes to the lungs in your lot, doesn't it, interrupted the voice, sing-song. Drowned in his own blood yet, has he?
"Let me concentrate, hag!" (One more interruption, he told himself, just one mor—)
Oh well, no-one will mourn h—
An electric shock-wave, boosted by cold fury, shredded the taunting spirit to ash, as Ancano saw when he deigned to look.
Grey fragments sparkled, edged with violet, as though in moonlight.
Something fluttered amongst the remains, parchment-like.
...It was parchment...
D
Daedric writing glowed faintly green in the gloom. The wind howled.
Sneering at the smoking heap, the mer stumbled back onto the bed, pulling a candle on the sideboard closer with a hand that shook slightly.
"The ghost was carrying a spell on it," he explained, although he was fairly certain the other couldn't hear him. "Could be a curse, I shan't read it aloud."
To his surprise, the officer's eyes fluttered open for a second.
New leaves on an overcast day, Ancano thought, fondly. Not the most stunning colour ever given to elven-kind — but they're his, and I want to be able to look into them every night, dammit.
O
Ondolemar addressed his bodyguard. "Zenolia, stay by the door. Elanté? Keep an eye on the Bosmer, but don't be a de'nt about it — offer to help."
The soldier disappeared smartly into the cellar, armoured steps muffled.
W
"Which direction?"
"North, sir." (This was Sanyon). "They fluttered down on us—"
Faendal interrupted. "Horses don't flutter, small birds flutter, butterflies—"
The agent glowered at him. "We can speak only MY language, if you prefer, Overseer, and see how well—" he began.
Ancano's luminous stare caught them both a second time.
Sanyon continued the tale:
S
Said Ondolemar, loudly, seemingly to no-one in particular: "You know, suspicion is a fine trait in a Justiciar, but it's colder than an Argonian's arsehole out here and I can't be BELLOWING the passphrase through solid oak, now, can I?!"
Ancano sighed, and glanced back up the stairs, to see the others' faces, pale and tense, in the gloom, watching.
Stay sharp, he mouthed at them.
He shot open the hatch in the door.
After a moment, a haughty green gaze deigned to fill it from the other side.
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No-pressure tagging @anilliscarts @theoneandonlysemla @cresu @chiqita @dark-brotherhoe @rebornflameofthenoldor and anyone else who wants to share!
Your choice of word is either the same, (shadows), or new word, EASTERLY, if you have WIPs and feel like it :3
