#event.01

THE JOURNEY had been long and tiring ; her bones ached and the cold seemed to throb her joints. she was not used to these long journeys... and she hoped she'd never have to take another one after their return to england. her lady in waiting is all that kept her company - her husband traveling separate from her.

she often wondered if it was something she had done. was it her ? did she displease him ? was she not at all what he wanted and expected ?

    The last time Basil had attended a ball of any kind, he’d been a married man; and before even that, always secured as taken in some way. When your parents decide a match when you were fifteen, it tends to happen; and though Basil stands on the sidelines once more a taken man, it feels so fresh, undiscovered, and new in a way... enough to make a man usually seeping with confidence feeling quite like a fish out of water. 

   It seemed that the safest zone of participation, for now, would be the small sitting chairs & lounges placed just off from where couples danced. Lightly populated, a stand of drinks nearby; it was involved yet removed, just as Basil hoped to be. Taking a seat on a lavishly plush two-seater, he dipped his head in a greeting. “Do you mind if I take this seat? I am waiting for someone to arrive, and honestly, I don’t know how long it has been since I have attended one of these things.”

          in a quiet room of the manor, far from the libations and festivities of the abbott ballroom, saem’s gentle fingertips idle at the ivory keys of a pianoforte —— a soft tune filling the room. the notes the healer plays are hesitant and disjointed from lack of practice, but the melody has a tender and quiet charm of its own, regardless, and saem lets the sound carry him away —— imagining that he’s not here at this ball ; but instead, wandering through a forest at dawn —— lungs filled with the scent of bluebells adorned with glimmers of morning dew. 

          saem adored people ; he adored being able to connect with them, hear their stories, and part feeling as though he’d just revelled in something special, and something shared  —— but there was something about the dizzying glamour of social season events such as this that made him uneasy —— made him yearn for something free of pretence, and social pressure, and status ; made him appreciate the peacefulness of solitude. 

          the echo of footsteps by the entrance of the room pulls saem out of his reverie  —— brown eyes warm with a smile as he sights his new companion. “ ‘haven’t lost your way now, have you ? ”

setting: social ball

Regina scanned the crowded ballroom, lazily fanning herself in a vain attempt to stave off the heat of too many bodies in a small space. This ball was felt like being a debutante again - Paraded about, cinched and pinched and prodded. The gray of her half-mourning gown felt weightier than the white of her presentation dresses had; Weightier, even, than her wedding gown. She felt marked out as different from the others twirling around her with abandon, which, she supposed, was the point of mourning someone. Or pretending to, at least.

She reached to accept a flute of champagne from a passing waiter, offering a smile of thanks before becoming aware of something in the corner of her eye. She turned to see someone who she thought might have spoken, and she directed her smile at them.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t catch that,” she said, taking a sip of her drink. “You were saying?”

₀₄ ៸ ₂₁ WRITERSNET APRIL EVENT: MYTHOLOGY

the first event for writersnet is now live ! for the first network event, we have decided upon the theme of mythology. these months, with the theme in mind, we would love for you to share with us your wonderful creativity and your brilliant writing. as a network, we wish to showcase and support the excellence of as many writers as we can reach and so we invite you to be inspired by mythological stories from a myriad of diverse cultures from around the world and from various time periods in order to create an original writing piece for the event. 

to complete this event:

₀₁ ‣ join our network (optional)

₀₂ ‣ reblog this post !

₀₃ ‣ write an original piece in accordance to this event’s theme: mythology. this theme can be interpreted in any way you wish and the piece of writing can be written in any form (i.e. short story, poem, script, etc.). note that your writing can be as short or as long as you wish, there are no limits to your artistic license!

₀₄ ‣ post your event submission with the header:

@writersnet​ event 1 · april 2021 / mythology

₀₅ ‣ tag your work with #writersnet and #writersnet.0421

this event will be open from april 1 to may 31 and we are so excited to see what you all create. we hope you enjoy the event !

" They expect us to just sit back and hold tight? " The priest grumbles to himself before he holds a lighter up and flicks on the flame to light his cigarette. The small flame brings very little light to his surroundings, casting the smallest of shadows on a face already bowed in the dark. Genjo didn't have a problem with the dark usually but it did remind him of things he didn't want to recall.

As the unpleasant memories arose, a light manifested above his head. It was a bright orb, about the size of a ping-pong ball, and it's light shown on the dark dark street like a beacon. Genjo squints up at the light as he takes his cigarette out of his mouth and waves at the orb- as if to fan it off. This light would only draw the attention of the things lurking in this dark, but Genjo didn't know how to use his magic.

salma was never one to crave peace. silence and serenity were things she found irksome rather than comforting. buzzing bees and chirping birds were not her idea of a happy setting. regardless, the gardens were the best place to examine her wards; wards she suddenly worried were effected by the magical disruption from the council meeting. there was no way of knowing how widespread that issue had been. the pleasant side effect from being outside meant she was away from the chaotic shouting that had occurred minutes ago. salma loved debates, but that was far from the kind she typically enjoyed.

her illusions seemed to be largely unaffected. she knew they had previously been stabilized by residual magic that radiated from feiyan’s creation, but she could never be too careful. she trusted little, especially where ‘magic’ was concerned. if it couldn’t be proven with fact, was it even real?

her mind lingered on the thought of feiyan; just for a passing moment. the others wouldn’t think so from her actions at the meeting, but her disappearance did...bother her. feiyan had been a rock for salma since she was dragged into this mess. it was hard to imagine what it was going to be like if she never returned. who would guide her, then? but, of course, perhaps it was her own turn to guide.

the thought flickered out when salma heard a rustle; a parting of tall grass and arching sunflowers. she caught evelyn’s eye, just for a moment, before she returned to her work examining the mansion, painting her face once again with that ever-present mast of apathetic boredom.