#maydwc2024

DAILY WRITING CHALLENGE 2024 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: #maydwc2024,  #maydayX2024 (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 AUGUST 2024 and last one week!

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We look forward to reading some amazing writing!

((Written word list below the cut))

May 19 - Day 1 Mysterious / Appearance

<<Archmage Drenden’s back on the Council of Six.>>

Fiorenze furrowed her brow at the text from Keranna that popped up on her little communicator with a standard chime. They didn’t talk much anymore; the falling out between the two of them over how the older elf, in her role as governess, had conspired with her mother to suppress her abilities with nature magic in favor of focusing only on her abilities with arcane to keep the family from shame, had grown into a grand rift. 

She’d been hoping for another elf, if she had to be honest. It would’ve been a fair show toward a greater neutrality that the city had lacked for a long while, but part of her had fully anticipated the disappointment of another human being inducted into the post Kalecgos had vacated. Drenden, of all people, made her brow furrow heavily — and that was entirely why Keranna considered it an important enough piece of news to pass along. 

He’d been considered dead for over twenty years, lost in the siege that had crushed the city at the end of the Third War. There had been no word of him in the aftermath or decades since. It wasn’t a long time for her people, but for a human? 

How strange that the Archmage had mysteriously and miraculously reappeared, just in time to slot perfectly into his old council seat. 

Between her strange dreams and this, the boundaries of the floating, violet city were starting to feel a little stifling. She didn’t consider herself to be a conspiracy theorist, but something in her gut was starting to wave a little flag of concern. 

She shot back a quick <<Thank you.>> before scrolling down to the last conversation she’d had with Pyraelia, the only member of the family that was a card carrying member of the Kirin Tor. <<Drenden?>> 

The reply was almost immediate, <<Yes. It’s weird. I’m not the only one that thinks so. Come over for tea soon?>>

Fiorenze frowned and bit the inside of her cheek, still frustrated at her little sister over purely personal matters that hadn’t required her brand of meddling. Still, this was starting to put some spats into perspective. Perhaps it was time to shelve the grievance for a moment, if only to make sure they had some kind of plan in place in case things started to get weird again. 

Performed at HoT Fest 5/18/2024 Also this doubles as Day 1 for May DWC 2024 Mysterious - Appearance

The half-elven man steps onto the stage with violin in hand, flashing a handsome smile towards the audience. While he may be new to this particular stage, it is obvious he’s already more than familiar with being in front of a crowd as a hand flourishes off to the side when he bows. He’s dressed simply for the occasion: Worn boots, distressed pants, a white shirt whose v-neck sits low enough to display the Darkmoon Faire crest tattooed on his chest, and a variety of mismatched necklaces, bracelets, and rings. 

With a wave of his hand, fingers briefly glow a dark indigo as a grand piano materializes out of thin air behind him. Sitting at the piano is, strangely enough, himself, or a copy of himself at the very least. The twin Jaces smile and nod at each other before the real Jace fits the violin to his chin in preparation. For those more musically inclined with a strong penchant towards string instruments, they may recognize this particular violin to have been made by the famous Kaldorei luthier, Del’gesu: A rare and incredibly valuable piece of history and it’s easy to hear why once he begins playing.

The pianist begins keying a soft, somewhat haunting melody as Jace raises his bow, poised and at the ready. There’s an inaudible inhale before the rosined horsehair glides across the strings, producing a beautifully rich vibrato; the sound nearly visible as it winds around the player and carries out among those gathered in a breath of wind.

The music swells and subsides at his tender beckon, displaying the mastery he maintains within the difficult technique traversed with ease. The violin seems to nearly cry out in melancholic yearning with every sustained note and gentle crescendo. The piece is meant to provoke emotion of some variety, and given the creased brow and tightly shut eyes of the performer, it’s simple to recognize an artist truly in touch with his craft.

Upon reaching a lower range of still meticulously bowed notes, eyes flick open to reveal that which were once a faintly glowing deep blue are now intense, swirling tempests of blues, purples, and streaks of crackling silver, reminiscent of a lightning storm at sea.

A congenial expression settles across his sharp features as that churning gaze seeks out individual contact within the audience, while the beguiling melody aids in this enchantment. The flow of expertly fingered notes delicately drifts throughout the atmosphere; an earworm that wriggles its way into the deep recesses of the mind for those more open and willing, and especially those most prone to empathetic urges.

Jace‘s own movements ebb and flow with the raw passion of the violin’s lament, almost as if it is his very own soul crying out for something not quite within reach. His fingers move with purpose and precision along the maple fingerboard as the double stops and glissandos permeate the performance space, and never once does he break a sweat despite the punishing accuracy required. His instrument exquisitely sings out the high notes without restraint, ensorcelling those most affected by the radiance of the song and the persuasive nature of his turbulent gaze.

The hypnotic combination of the ethereal sound and his tempestuous stare may begin to sway those most susceptible into some sort of waking trance. Ever present, yet feeling, remembering, daydreaming in snippets of memories this particular song may invoke within themselves. A sense of longing for something or someone lost, or perhaps something they never possessed in the first place.

For those only with the keenest of gazes, Jace’s shadow begins to stretch and widen, and there are instances where it almost appears as if this elongated shadow falls out of sync with his physical form for the briefest of moments. A gust of wind begins to whip around the violinist, stirring any fallen leaves, grass clippings, and loose dirt into a small flurry as his bow firmly kisses the strings in a series of impressive runs leading towards climactic grandeur.

The peak of the performance crests with soaring waves of pristine notes and resounding vibrato that reverberates throughout the entire area, sending chills down the spines of those most afflicted. It may even elicit a strong, physical reaction in some as sorrowful or wistful personal recollections of times past almost seem to appear before their very eyes. A subconscious suggestion brought about by mere illusions of their own psyche, a trick of the mind, erased from existence should these fabricated reflections be touched.

A glint of setting sunlight catches the evil eye charm resting in the hollow of Jace’s throat as he gently arches backwards to emphasize the masterfully executed glissando into an even higher octave, still maintaining the heightened fervor. The strikes of lightning within that captivating gaze become more mesmerizing and nigh impossible to look away from, which in turn only enhances the peculiar influence he and his instrument seem to possess. 

The cry of strings deepens but never once loses its determination. It’s at this point that his shadow seems to have elongated beyond the realm of possibility, nearly engulfing the entirety of the audience. There’s a chill present not previously felt as even Jace seems to find himself consumed by the inexplicable darkness. Yet, those rippling pools of undulating sea and storm seem to glow brilliantly as they continue to watch those gathered. There’s a strange comfort offered in that unblinking stare as he gradually decrescendos into a more somber and languid melody.

There’s still an alluring caress of a whisper contained within the tone; more seductive yet somehow heart wrenching at the same time. A juxtaposition of emotions overwhelms: A sense of dread with the pure wonder of what will occur next. The other Jace on the piano now appears to be nothing but a shadowy apparition, continuing to brush the keys in perfect rhythm. Wispy tendrils of darkness expand and waver against all they touch, appearing like branches from a massive tree that isn’t where the shadow suggests. Yet, it’s all just an illusion, isn’t it? 

He gracefully trills the instrument with ease, the beauty of the dulcet sounds weaving through the crowd on a crisp breeze. The squalls captured within his gaze seem to now settle back into tranquility as the looming shadow diminishes in size. The emotions relent and relinquish their grip upon those affected, but very much so leaving a mark in their wake whether it be fatigued hearts or pensive moods.

Jace closes his eyes for the first time since the beginning of the piece, the familiar crease settling once more upon his brow. At this point the shadow has completely vanished and the setting sun brilliantly illuminates the man, granting him an almost divine glow. The concluding notes ascend upwards in a smooth legato, culminating in the most exquisite high note as he seems to finally exhale for the first time tonight - an oddly icy breath. The violin lowers, the spell broken, and he takes his final bow.

Day 1 - Mysterious, Appearance

Khaeris studied Pollux’s face over the top of her teacup. She did not need to be covert, he was busy in his head, thinking mysterious secret scout-spy-sniper kinds of thoughts. Her lips quirked up, taking in the way his brows twitched toward each other, putting some problem through its paces. He had been a little more apt to get daydreamy since his abrupt work jaunt a few weeks ago. 

No, daydreaming was what she did. Pollux ruminated. He chewed on problems and spun them around for inspection from every angle. Khaeris tended to float through her thoughts--and if they were that bad, she tended to push them away and ignore them.

Just as she was doing now.

It wasn’t mysterious, and though it hadn’t been voiced outloud, they both knew he’d be leaving soon for work. Not the prosthetics kind. That Scout-Spy-Sniper whatever it was that he did kind. She wouldn’t think about it now, it didn’t do any good to brood. Right now he was still in the same room and he’d even said he’d take her out to the Ana’diel art gallery showing later this week. She was looking forward to it. She’d see Pyraelia and maybe the three of them could interpret the art together; Pyraelia was the most practiced at it, and she’d understand it better than Khaeris. Though the enigmatic artist seemed to keep her subject matter fixed to a pointed statement on death. She knew Aerden had made an appearance and posed for the artist in the past, but Khaeris hoped Vixannya never painted anything Pollux would be recognizable in.

With a soft plop! onto the sofa next to Pollux, Khaeris leaned over and kissed his arm. He turned and smiled at her, dragged away from wherever he’d been, and back to the moment with her.

“So I’ll be getting a fancy dress for his party. … But what are you wearing?” Her eyes swept over him appreciatively and emphasized his part in the picture in her mind.

@daily-writing-challenge

(Fair warning, really long)

(Written as an ongoing growth arc with my warlock, Deiala Vyneaniux. Some might not make sense completely not knowing her background, but overall enough to understand)

Dei stopped in at her book shop to get books she thought would be good for reading to Eli, certainly something more interesting than the Elven ship craft of pre-war Feralas. The book was what Dei had in her bag when she got the news about her friend being injured and what she had been reading to her since. It likely was part of the reason Eli was sleeping so much.

Picking a couple titles off the shelves, she turned when the bell on the door chimed. An Illidari ducked under the doorframe and turned immediately to face Dei with a smile. He was a large man, easily over eight and a half feet with shoulders wider than her door frame and was the reason Dhes and Ewan’s size did not phase her much, the man was also drop dead gorgeous.

The shop owner did not *entirely* lose her composure but she cleared the distance to him in a few strides, he bent to hug her and lifted her off the ground to the surprise of Dei’s slack jawed assistant. “You *look* good,” he said with a shit eating grin on his face

“You always say that,” she replied tartly, “and we both know it is not true.”

“Au contraire, pretty lady, I mean it every time I say it, and I do not need standard sight to see the truth of you. If I were ten thousand years younger, and didn’t have a demon living in my body I would sweep you away. Wait…. How do you feel about older men?” The Illidari still had her held off the ground, “I guess the second point still stands hmmm?”

Dei remained with her arms around his neck, no reason to let go, not like he was going to just drop her because she was too heavy, “What are you doing in town? I thought you were off hunting down some random group of fel beasties in the middle of nowhere.”

He snarled and it would have been frightening for most, but Dei just laughed, “Treat my job like a joke will you? I should put you over my knee…” He smirked, “Or take you and dump you in the pond behind your house.”

“When did I disparage your job Kyeanadril? You did very important work rounding up those five little imps last time.” Dei said with mock seriousness.

“That’s it woman,” he tossed Dei over his shoulder. “You there,” he pointed at Dei’s assistant, “watch the store while Vyeaniux goes swimming.”

“Don’t you dare! I will tell your demon the secrets I know!” It was a true mock threat, the demon knew everything he did anyway. “Kyean! Kyean!” She said his name with no little horror in her tone, before he ducked through the door and leapt up into the air.

He did not angle them towards her house though, he took her up past the waterfall on the north side of the city before he landed and set her on her feet.”Sorry about that, we need to talk. You do look good though, your energies seem very mixed but it feels as though you have more life to you.”

Dei walked over to a rock and sat on it, this had been ‘their’ place to talk after Brendan’s death. Whenever the Kaldorei was in town he came by and they would talk demons for hours. There was nothing inappropriate and he didn’t even come by enough for her to consider him a good friend, often they just exchanged information and he would head out. “It has been an interesting eight months or so… what was so important we couldn’t talk at the store?”

“You know we can’t talk about *things* there, this is no different. I have been in the city for a few days but you were out of the store when I walked by, where have you been?” He asked her bluntly.

“A friend got hurt, I have been sitting with her at the clinic for that group I told you I joined?” There was a hint of a whirlwind of her emotions that spun there, fear, anger, frustration, pain, worry, caring and sadness, “Her boyfriend and I have been taking visits in shifts, though he is there a lot more than I am, as is proper.”

A rumbled ‘hmmm’ came from deep in his chest. “You need to take care.”

With a tip of her head she reached out to him with a little magic, kind of a ‘does your demon have control’ check that he always allowed her, her lack of trust in demons was clear to any that spoke to her about them. She saw nothing to worry about in him though so she went ahead and asked, “Take care? Why?”

“Since I have been in the city and passing by your shop, I have sensed demonic energy along the street there, more than there should be,” the Illidari said.

“They let Man’ari into the city, there is more demon dust everywhere, I almost can’t walk outside without sneezing like a bad allergy.” Dei excused his overreaction.

He frowned at her, “Do not make me truly put you over my knee.”

Her time with Rurik, and the opening of her memories with Kharon, had her offering up a sexy answer before she could rein it back in, “What if I like it?” She had no clue if she truly did or not, but Kharon’s image of her in her mind certainly did.

Bright green flared from behind his glasses, so did his nostrils, “What did you say?”

“You heard me,” her voice was not nearly as self-assured when she said that. Dei had never seen this intensity from him.

“Do not tell a man that unless you really want to find out, Deiala. What kind of business is this anyway that teaches you such things? You said they were a shipping and acquisitions company, which I took to mean piracy and theft.”

The bookstore owner looked at him quizzically, “Find out.. but you…” she didn’t push her luck. “That is what they are, just sometimes they play these games, and there was this man I liked.” Kyean did not know about Kharon’s invasion of her dreams when she was seventeen, if anyone knew how to go through a demonic gateway and find someone it would be him and she wasn’t sure she wanted that kind of resolution for the man Dei had defended herself from.

“Ah, finally a boyfriend, but you said was, and there was a sad tone plus your energy drained from you completely.”

She couldn’t lie to him when he asked her something directly and never did. He was too good at what he just did, “Was, he possibly was a spy, not sure the more time passes that I believe that, but the company does and I think that had I pushed against them too hard they would have stopped trusting me.” Another thing to gloss over, along with her nightmares and the dragon issues.

The huge man looked at her, really *looked* with his spectral sight, “Anyone that doesn’t trust you is a fool. You are so smart and you hold to your oaths like a rock face holds an ore deposit. How is Saxori?”

He was the only one that knew about the Man’ari her mentor had locked in a way long ago, and that was because Brendan had trusted him, not Dei, Dei trusted no one with that secret. Kyean had been a frequent visitor in her youth and many conversations were had between him and the demon. In fact, Kyean helped build the cage she lived in, “She is good, still a little too familiar, but she has been teaching me to dance.”

“Why do you need to le… never mind, we are off track, you always do that, I start with something uncomfortable and you let it chase its own tail until I have lost track of what I was asking. No warren tunnels for you little bunny.” He took her chin in his hand, “Do you really like spankings?” His tone was deep, sonorous and dropped into a growl at the end.

“I don’t know…” she frowned at him for talking about her sex life, “now who is changing the subject? What about this demonic presence?”

He leaned in and sniffed her, “Ah but the idea intrigues.” A surprised look crossed his face then he cleared his throat from the dry tone it had taken. “I have felt it since I came to the city but more near your shop. Have you been letting demons in?”

Dei snapped her answer harshly, “No!”

“Alright… alright… I didn’t think you changed that much but had to check. Yes, there are demons everywhere now, not just in the Lamb and the district around it, but near your street it is heavier, and it lingers. Any demons about recently, maybe some that tested your wards?” The question was reasonable so she could not get grumpy at his big brother protectiveness.

Thinking about his question for more than a moment, “Nothing I can think of.” Yet as she said it she realized it wasn’t entirely true.

He continued to stare at her, usually it was a friendly look but there was new, tighter, focus on her and she wasn’t sure what it was, must be the worry about the demonic traces. “There is a woman in the company, she has a ‘friend’ who is a Man’ari and has been doing deals with people I work with.”

“Do they not know how dangerous that is?l”

“They know, I told them so… in short words even the dumbest of them could understand.” Dei offered, “But maybe that is who you are sensing.”

Kyean shook his head, “Fel girl… you sure you want to stay there? That is a whole lotta trouble you don’t need, considering.”

He really had no idea as she wasn’t talking about dragons or time travel, just people who *might* deal with demons was enough of a threat to what she did, “I have made friends, at least a couple.”

“Did these friends have something to do with the boyfriend situation? Because I can’t imagine you backing down if someone told you what to do in that circumstance unless you really valued their opinion.” He watched her energy drop again so he pushed, “Have you been sleeping?”

What one thing had to do with the other in his mind she would never know, what it did in hers made her sad all over again. “They had something to do with it, yes.” Dei left it at that, “Not really, though I have some new medication one of our healers makes. Hoping it will help.”

He looked almost through her “But you haven’t taken it becuase you have been staying at this clinic.” He didn’t need her agreement as he knew the answer. “You are not going to the clinic tonight. I am taking you for food, then we go back to your place and talk. Whatever demons that are around won’t dare to act while I am,” he said and offered her his hand.

Dei took it and didn’t grump at him, she was tired and having him there would surely help her sleep, it was only when her house was empty that the nightmares came. “Fine, I will send a message to the clinic and I can cook.”

The Illidari looked at Dei, her outline had this stubborn tilt to her chin. When had she grown from that mouse child who gave in to anything Brendan told her, to this? Her spirit was glowing and it was strong, and he liked it. It would help her survive in this world. Demons would challenge her throughout her life, she held too many secrets that many would do anything to possess. Somehow Brendan raised a good Keeper of knowledge, one that may surpass her old mentor.

@daily-writing-challenge

The estates of Dawnstide Harbor were a small, yet inviting landscape to run a lucrative business largely independent to most of the affairs that went on around it while keeping a toe in line to any of the mundane politics that kept order to the lands in which it was quite proudly nestled within. Of course, the proprietor of the harbor’s exchange was always delighted to provide her homeland with anything that they had needed from the business’s many talents, considering it an honor to still serve long after she had retired from nearly two centuries of active military duty. 

To still be of use and needed swelled within her a deep sense of pride she had once been afraid she would lack when she had once been hesitant to hang up her bow to war and order. But that life was one that no longer fulfilled her in the way it once had, and she had grown weary of the few who still whispered doubts regarding her credibility as a reinstated captain long after her name had officially been cleared thanks to one well established within the Magistry. Eventually, she supposed it didn't matter much any longer and there were better areas to place her strengths of strategy and that clever tongue she possessed, finding a great thrill in the eye of business alongside her husband and the carefully selected they chose to employ. 

A crisp breeze rolled up the hillside from the home that overlooked the harbor down below. There were always two familiar ships that had come and gone from the docks, where today only one sat anchored and all was quiet the last couple of days since Asharri had sent her local workers home for a well-deserved long weekend. The other ship had long departed for the Dragon Isles with her husband aboard, a voyage that they knew was risky at best and had now been in its third month. And even though communication had been rather sparse and that was to be expected, Asharri wasn’t all that worried at this time for they had each gone on their own voyages separately for long periods of time passed in between before. In fact, a small grin etched its way across her lips as she recalled her husband’s restlessness leading up to the days she had decided he would be the one leading this journey and he was all too eager to accept. The two had always shared a habit of thrill seeking when it came to certain dangers of the unknown, but Pyranthios had a tendency to find himself a little bloodthirsty at times. Honestly, it wasn’t all too surprising a trait for a demon hunter to possess and she would not deny her husband so long as he behaved himself.

Looking out over her property, Asharri tucked an arm behind her head and lounged back in her garden chair, letting out a contented sigh in her glass of red wine. It continued to surprise her how comfortable she was becoming accustomed to this new lifestyle and truly diving deep into it without looking back. She had her fair share of adventures that rolled over a few lifetimes so she could afford to sit this one out for now. Today was a day where she did not have to bury her nose in dizzying numbers and maps that had begun to blur together. A day where she need only to make an appearance for herself. 

May 22 - Day 4 Drama / Celebration

Pyraelia was deeply familiar with her sister’s penchant for drama and the fact that Fiorenze rarely, if ever, recognized it in herself in the moment. 

There was certainly probably more to her sister’s motivation to not attend the gallery than just Xylaes bringing Tinnaire as his plus one; she could understand why Fiorenze was feeling bruised by that, even if it was simply as friends. It broke the “girl code” a tad, but there wasn’t really anyone to blame and there wasn’t anything to do about it that wouldn’t make someone feel terrible when they didn’t really deserve to. 

Had it layered too harshly with everything else going on to be the last straw? She’d tried to press, but that made Fio bristle and withdraw more than she already had. This certainly hadn’t been an easy year, and she knew Fio was already feeling isolated and alone. But, she also knew that not going wasn’t going to make that any better, and would wind up with her sister sulking more because she’d missed out on the celebration of Annya’s work as a whole. 

She pursed her lips a bit as she inked in the final adjustment on the illusion she wanted to apply to her prosthetic arm for the grand party. It was terribly complicated, but she’d experimented with a more rudimentary concept before. Her solid glass illusion had to refract and be translucent — this new version was similar in that it had to be translucent, but the glass effect was thinner and meant to be a delicate shell that contained swirling galaxies and twilight stardust in the form of an arm. 

More than likely she was going to wind up alone for stretches at a time herself; Khaeris and Pollux were going to be there together and she certainly wasn’t going to third wheel their experience too much. Aerden understandably hadn’t been able to confirm his own attendance, and with everything going on with the Song it wouldn’t surprise her if the militaries were starting preparations to ship out to wherever it wound up pointing to. Keranna had accepted her plus one spot, but certainly wouldn’t be hanging out with her. 

There was some merit in the ‘lets spend time as sisters’ angle. Perhaps also the ‘keep yourself open to being surprised and meeting new people’ angle. Much like her spellwork it was going to take some work-shopping, but she was confident that she would be successful in her arguments. 

As much as her sister was dramatic, she also appreciated the dramatic, and the gallery would certainly be that in spades

Before I became strong, I knew what it was like To be weak, How difficult it is to love yourself, To find the wholeness that you seek.

Before I knew the light, I have had my fair share of darkness, too, Where my world fell into a hopelessness And I didn't know how to get through.

For I have known the tears it takes, The courage to stand up again, When you are broken down and bruised And you know nothing but the pain.

You forget to appreciate love, If you haven't seen the hate, Till you forget the meaning of smile and laughter, And your heart is left abate.

I have known the strength and courage It requires to get it right, To face the things that hold you down And hold your head up and fight.

Before I was who I am now, I was someone I didn't want to be. I was lost, battered, and defeated, Before I knew how to be me!

Insiya K. Patanwala. "Before I...."

Embrace who you've become. Embrace the changes.