DAILY WRITING CHALLENGE 2023 IS BACK!

YOU DO NOT HAVE TO USE THE ACTUAL WORD FOR THIS CHALLENGE, YOU MAY SIMPLY BASE YOUR STORY AROUND ONE OF THESE IDEAS!

Choose one or both words/IDEAS and write a story, drabble, poem, or anything else once a day, every day, for a week!

Tag @daily-writing-challenge so we can reblog your stories.

Write the number day/challenge somewhere on your story.

LIST CONTENT WARNINGS VISIBLY ABOVE STORY! (Use a ‘read more’ line if content gets too graphic.)

Tags that will be used: #februarydwc2023,  #februarydayX2023 (X=whatever number day you’re writing for), #yourtumblrurl

There will be no optional challenges for the weekly DWC’s, but please feel free to make up some of your own challenges!

The next writing challenge will be in MAY!

CLICK HERE FOR OTHER IMPORTANT INFORMATION!

Good luck and more importantly, HAVE FUN! Encourage your fellow writers and show them some love and support with likes/reblogs/comments!

We look forward to reading some amazing writing!

((Written word list below the cut))

Khaeris

Khaeris knew she had to be careful in the Dragon Isles. She was too adventurous NOT to go, but also felt herself a little TOO vulnerable to fully engage and explore.

It was the bronzes, you see. She could tell who they were. They were the double-back, second-glancers. The ones who were about to say something, then shook their heads--in that reptilian way that gave away all dragons when they were startled--and narrowed their eyes.

So she threaded the needle of opportunity. Yes, to the Isles. No, to Valdrakken. Yes, to the Azure Span and the Dragonscale Expedition. No, to the Ruby Feast and the cheesemonger everyone kept talking about.

Wrong-Time still stuck to her--and she imagined it made her look, to a bronze dragon, like a mirage in the middle of the desert. Or someone from a dream who you couldn’t quite picture nor place.

One or two had seemed entertained by the puzzling specter she was. Most seemed distressed, anxiety slipping into their expressions.

She remembered how fussy some of them were, when she’d been Corrected back to her timeline. How fascinated by her timeline-skipping they had been, but also how matter-of-fact they had been that she be returned to when she belonged.

So it was with graceful slips into crowds and always a corner to turn to that she found herself exploring the Dragon Isles. Pollux would have been impressed at her ability to slip a tail (ha!) so frequently. But even so aware of the danger, Thaldraszus was still tempting. Like a shiny Titan orb forbidden to her; like a golden apple there before a starving elf in Eversong. She had stared up at the soaring city on the horizon--visible from so many vistas--and hungered.

The city would wait. Had already waited.

… Maybe she could--no. Best not to tempt fate.

But what if--?

@daily-writing-challenge​

TW: Fire, destruction, burns, wounds, scared animals

It was unnerving, all that fighting happening directly across the water from their home. Garren could tell his grandparents were on edge, as were most of the inhabitants of Darnassus. They had been assured, however, that Darnassus was not the Horde’s target and that the fighting would remain in Darkshore and other Kaldorei territories in the mainland. Most of the civilians there had already been evacuated, and the Sentinels, Priestesses of the Moon, and the Druids of the Claw all poured out of the city to go offer their aid wherever needed. Some of the civilians left behind decided to leave until the war was over, but the majority stayed and rallied around each other, trying to keep spirits lifted. This too would pass.

Garren was tending to the frightened animals at his grandfather’s stables, doing his best to calm them with their favorite treats and soothing words. Between most everyone feeling some level of panic and the occasional distant sounds of war echoing its way across the water, the stabled animals knew something bad was happening and seemed restless. 

“Shhhh, it’s okay girl.” Teenage Garren scratched behind the ear of one of his grandfather’s nightsabers. “Everything will be okay.”

It was at that moment a deafening *CRAAAAAAAAACK* of smashing wood, followed by ground shaking *WUMP* resounded throughout the entire area, causing the nightsaber to whip around and take off in panic, knocking Garren onto his back. It didn’t take him long to scramble up to his feet as some of the other animals broke free of their stables and made a break for it.

He ran outside to see what was happening, only to witness another few flaming boulders smash into nearby trees, splintering them into thousands of pieces before catching everything in their vicinity on fire. This was the Horde’s doing. He needed to get back home to his grandparents immediately, they would be so worried about him. 

But instead, he stood still, frozen in shock as he watched in horror as the barrage of molten balls continued to destroy his beloved home and forest. It wasn’t until one slammed into another nearby tree that he startled out of his horrified state and immediately began to unlatch all the stable doors, whipping them open and allowing all the animals to flee. It was all he could do.

Sprinting through the city, he followed the familiar path home. The sounds of screams were impossible to ignore as everyone ran in different directions; it was mass chaos with no one knowing what to do other than to find their loved ones. Some of the elves were bent over motionless loved ones, others wandered around in confusion sporting various, gruesome wounds they didn't even seem to notice. It made him feel sick to his stomach, but he had to keep going.

Why would they do this?

He skidded to a halt as he rounded the corner of Tradesman Terrace, staring at the caved-in, blazing building that was once his home. 

They were okay, they had to be okay.

He ran through the empty space where the door once stood without second thought, immediately holding arms up to protect his face from the roaring flames and heavy smoke. Broken beams blocked his way to the remainder of the house; surely they were there somewhere, tucked safely in the back room probably. He had to get to them. The fumes stung at his eyes and the heat was almost too unbearable, but the only thing he could think to do right now was to find his grandparents, at any cost. 

He bent over and scooped his arms underneath a downed, flaming beam that was blocking his way. With a blood-curdling scream, he tried to lift it, causing other parts of what was left of the house to groan and creak in warning. He didn’t even notice the flames licking at his arms and searing his shirt to his chest; none of that mattered right now. He was determined that his grandparents were trapped back there and that he had to save them.

“Son, you have to leave, NOW!” A loud voice called out from behind him, that he completely ignored until a moment later when he was suddenly yanked away from the burning building and dragged outside literally kicking and screaming. “They are evacuating at the Temple of the Moon, you have to go right now.” 

Garren looked up at the brown-haired Sin’dorei with hatred and tears in his trauma-filled eyes, immediately slamming both fists in anger against the man’s chest, “WHAT DID YOU DO?!”

Xanelen Deh’lorei caught the boy’s wrists, eyeing the burn wounds and his face with absolute heartbreak, “I am truly sorry.” That was not the face of a man that would fire bomb a city full of civilians. “But you have to go. Please.” Xanelen’s hands glowed a brilliant gold briefly before giving Garren a shove towards the Temple. 

Whatever the healer had done gave him a little boost of energy after he thought he would pass out from the sudden scorching pain he felt in both his arms and his chest. He ran, stopping only to help others make their way to the Temple with him. His grandparents would be there, or on the other side of the portals. They made it out, he knew it in his heart.

He should have corrected Aurelia the first time she called him ‘da-da’, but they were alone with no one else to hear, and it felt…nice? It gave him purpose. He was, after all, her father; why shouldn’t he relish the moment just this once? He highly doubted that anyone believed that Mr. and Mrs. Padley conceived on their own, especially with the way the two were rarely found in the same room together. Everyone in his boss’s group of friends knew, their neighboring farm families knew, even their own grown children knew. What was the harm?

They all so badly wanted to keep up their appearances and ‘old-fashioned’ ways, yet everyone around them had their own quirks and secret dramas they never spoke of. Except to him, oddly enough. He was known to be non-judgemental, sympathetic, a great listener, and most especially tight-lipped. The farmer’s wives loved inviting him over to fix things around the house while they chattered on about anything. He learned about everyone’s extramarital affairs and what children may or may not have been a love child, among many other overshared details. 

He didn’t mind, their secrets were always safe with him, and there was literally no reason in bringing up drama that everyone already seemed to know anyways. It was a regular ‘Housewives of Elwynn Forest’ reality show out there, and now he was a part of it too. 

Today’s ‘fix-it’ adventure brought him to one of the neighboring farms, where Mrs. Farner’s kitchen sink had been on the fritz and her husband was currently away for a few days doing some trade in the neighboring lands. Everyone knew to call upon Rhys when something needed to be fixed, he had a knack for it - and they all enjoyed watching him. He gave a brief knock to the door, one arm carrying a basket of freshly cut sunflowers from his own little garden, and the other bouncing Aurelia as she giggled and patted at his cheek.

“Rhys, my dear! Come on in, you’re just in time. The blueberry pie just came out of the oven.” There were always pies. Always. Not that he would ever complain about a free pie.

“Thanks Mrs. Farner, I hope you don’t mind that I broug–”

“Da-da, I want!” The little blond-haired, blue-eyed girl stared up at him with a pleading look.

Hello consequences. 

He could feel his face flushing furiously as Mrs. Farner stared at him a bit wide-eyed in surprise. She probably already knew, she had to right? But it still wasn’t something to be spoken aloud. He didn’t know what to do at that moment. He didn’t want to correct Lia, he liked being da-da. But he also wasn’t sure how Mrs. Farner was going to react beyond this shocked stare.

“Ibroughtyousunflowersfrommygarden!” Rhys blurted out and shoved them towards the farmer’s wife, smiling brightly in the most innocent way he could muster.

She softened her expression, seemingly happy not to get into…all that, and took the flowers. “Come on in you two, I’ve got homemade lemonade as well.”

He set the squirming Lia down and let her toddle into the house just before Mrs. Farner caught him by the wrist, stepping in closer as she lowered her voice. “You know, my husband will be away for another couple nights, and I have a few things in the bedroom that need fixing. Maybe you can come back later..alone.”

Rhys gave a sheepish grin, ruffling a hand through his hair as he looked down at the ground. “..Maybe.” He was almost beginning to enjoy this starring role.

This takes place after Succulent Tart's Glitter is in the Air show where Ryland performed this number ---> HERE

‘You gonna be ok? You need company tonight?’

The late night comm message from Dicenne did elicit a small smile, he had always been good at reading moods, even if Ryland was very good at hiding them. Of course, Dicenne was also well educated in the topic on which Ryland had performed earlier that night: Grief. 

It was his annual Love is in the Air tradition for the third year running now, to honor and commemorate his late fiancée , Sela, who had been taken from him around this time of year many years ago. His very first performance with the Succulent Tart was for this show, where he sang one of her favorite songs. The following year he performed an aerial hoop number to a song meant to be used for their first dance together as husband and wife. 

They were both difficult numbers to get through for various reasons, but there was something about this year’s that struck him completely differently. ‘On the Nature of Grief’ was the title of his dance, set to a song named ‘On the Nature of Daylight’; both exceedingly appropriate in this case. It was a ballet, first and foremost, showcasing the extremes of grief. At least he hoped that it would come across that way. People would always try to simplify grief into five stages, but it was never like that, was it? It was an ongoing roller coaster with an ever-changing track that kept you guessing, and oftentimes the rider was blindfolded. 

At least that was how he felt much of the time. 

Some days he would completely forget about Sela, forget that she had ever existed and had been such a huge part of his life and his character. Other days she was the only thing on his mind and he would grieve the fact that he could so easily forget her, as if his mind were doing her some sort of horrible injustice. She didn’t deserve to be forgotten. …Yet, it’s what she would want for him, right? To move on, to be happy, to think of someone else as he had once thought of her, or still continues to think of her. The truth was, there would never be another Sela and he would have to accept that.

That’s really what his show was all about. Losing something or someone you will never find again and having to cope with that emptiness in your heart and soul. It was about the highest of highs and the lowest of lows; showing strength and fortitude one second, and then weakness and sorrow the next. It was about feeling broken and unintentionally ruining other things that cannot be fixed. In the end, it was about brushing yourself off and continuing onwards despite it all. 

However long the night, the sun will always rise.

After a few moments of blankly staring at the comm and silently debating, he sent his reply: ‘Sure. Let’s get some whiskey and go watch the sunrise.’

Going along with this storyline: Prologue -> Here Fio Day 1 -> Here Xylaes Day 1 -> Here Pyraelia Day 1 -> Here

"Hey. Weird question. Do you have some time this week to come out to an Estate in Quel'thalas and get rid of a soul that's taken up shop in the body of the noblewoman that lives here? Hers is elsewhere at the moment, but I think this other one probably has to be out before the other one can go back in? No rush. I've got plenty of sedatives. Lmk."

The ridiculing snort-laugh that came out of Red’s mouth when he was shown the comm message from Lynesse made Taric smirk. Yes, he was well aware how this sounded. No, this was not his first time, nor Red’s first time,  in dealing with a wealthy person's body being inhabited by another soul - most likely brought on by said wealthy person’s desire to mess with cursed objects or locations. They weren’t exactly known for considering the consequences of their actions. He didn’t know the specifics yet, but a lot of assumptions could be made.

It wasn’t widespread knowledge, but those closer to Taric or Red would know that they have connections to the spirit world. A trait that runs in the male side of the Darkmorn family; being able to see and speak with spirits was the surface level trait, and the simplest explanation that would be given to anyone wanting details. But it went much deeper than that. They could traverse through the veil with ease, allow themselves to become possessed, trap souls, free souls…destroy souls, and more.

Taric had been ‘lucky’ enough to inherit the generation-skipping trait that gifted him sectoral heterochromia, causing his right eye to be half blue, half golden. ‘Half-in, half-out’ as he would describe it, being able to see whatever was beyond the veil and into the real world at the same time. Two planes of existence stacked atop each other. Not understanding what was happening as a child made for an extremely difficult time growing up, but now that he was older, this was simply his norm.

“So what do you think? I’m heading over today and you’re welcome to join. But uhh..this is more your wheelhouse.” The forcible removal of a foreign soul from a body, that is. Taric could do it, but Red was more experienced and much more apathetic about the souls and the people from which they would be removed.

“Is it anyone we know?” ‘Noblewoman’ meant money, but it also meant secrecy and having easy blackmail to hold over someone’s head should the need arise. 

“I don’t know yet. I won’t be given an address until I’m on my way.” Taric was just as in the dark, although he was well aware that Red might be familiar with whomever it may be, given the older man’s own time spent as a noble within Quel’thalas decades ago. Especially if they were of an elder bloodline, like the Darkmorns themselves.

“Well I can’t let you go by yourself on your birthday, now can I?”

Taric blinked a few times. Huh. How time flies and skews when you’re out in ‘the field’. He hadn’t even realized that his birthday was approaching, and now it was suddenly here. “Right. I guess it just slipped my mind. So that’s a yes?”

“That’s a yes.”

At least this birthday would be interesting!

Storyline Progression: Prologue -> Here Fio Day 1 -> Here Xylaes Day 1 -> Here Pyraelia Day 2 -> Here Taric Day 3 -> Here Lynesse Day 3 -> Here Sheizara Day 4 -> Here Red Day 5 -> Here Fiorenze Day 5 -> Here

There wasn’t much that he could do to help Fiorenze through her ‘predicament’. His new magic was still largely unpredictable, he had no healing abilities, and he definitely had no clue what to do when it came to dealing with moving souls from one thing or body to another. Thankfully, the rest of those involved seemed to have it covered, or at least knew experts that were able to help. 

So instead, he devoted himself to keeping her company during those quiet hours while she was still stuck within the mirror. He could tell she was frightened and didn’t want to be left alone. Who could blame her? There was nothing in there, just an empty void and her own intrusive thoughts.

He did his best to remain positive and keep calm; him not panicking and letting her know that they all had everything under control seemed to put her at ease. It wasn’t the entire truth, he had no idea if Red and Taric could get the invasive soul out of her body, nor did he know if Pyraelia could get her soul out of this mirror and back into her body. There were a lot of ‘what ifs’ involved, but everyone seemed to know what they were doing. He cared deeply for her, so it didn’t stop him from worrying.

He never pressed her too hard for information, there was no sense in making her more uncomfortable when there was a chance that she may be stuck in the mirror for a long time, or possibly forever. Plus, he was pretty certain that everything she was telling herself was much worse than anything he could have ever said to her regarding this entire situation. In some of the darker hours, she did mention that she was trying to help her house, and that the idea of dying after being in the Shadowlands scared her. Understandable to an extent, but not great reasoning. There was much more to it, a lot she was leaving out that he would probably hear at some point. Maybe. 

In the end everything went about as well as it could have gone while he poker-faced his way through the entire ordeal. Yet, his worry still remained, mostly because he realized what the trauma would likely do to her. She was a proud woman and this was a massive blow to the ego...but it also wasn’t his mess to clean up. She did this to herself, she should have known better. Plus, he could feel his own anger and disappointment finally reaching a stage where he realized he needed to go. 

When she was finally awake, he smiled and gave her a kiss on the forehead and told her that he was glad she was safe now. Then, he left. He didn’t tell her he was leaving; he did mention that he was returning to the Isles to Pyraelia in passing, but that was it. This next part she could deal with alone.

It wasn’t the first time she had the dream. In fact, it had become a regular occurrence over the past five years after she stopped taking the dreamless sleep potions every night. Originally the potions were given to end the relentless nightmares that developed after she had been kidnapped decades ago. She would awaken in the middle of the night, panicking and not wanting to go back to sleep. The potions had become a crutch; but with therapy and the various medications, Kara had become a changed woman. 

The dream always began with her standing alone in a dark forest. It didn’t feel like nighttime, there was just something about the sky above the canopy of trees that created this shadowy ambience. It wasn’t frightening nor was there any sense of dread, instead Kara found that the world tinted in purples and blues to be quite beautiful. After a few moments, a mirror image of herself appeared just a few feet ahead, extending a hand back in offering. At first, Kara did not accept. She would wake up feeling slightly restless and confused, but not anxious like she would with previous dreams. 

Over the years she progressed further, eventually taking her own hand and being led deeper and deeper into the forest until they came upon a clearing where a large, shimmering violet orb hovered eye-level in the center. The other Kara would then release her hand and stand next to the ball of light, waiting patiently with a soft, understanding smile.

She wanted her to touch it, she knew that, but for years she maintained her distance and simply observed. It was a strangely comforting presence; the same warmth she had always felt when near loved ones - especially her mother. It was welcoming and safe, and a part of her thought that maybe if she made contact that the dream would cease and she could no longer feel this soothing presence.

So for now, she bided her time, sitting on the outskirts of the clearing while staring into the beckoning sphere as the violet glimmered across her scarred, milky eye.