WOO, WIP Wednesday Time. I get to do that tagging thing people do to me for a change? Neat!
I am tagging @crimsonsairina, @archangelsunited, @oblivions-dawn, @saltymaplesyrup, @kookaburra1701, @gilgamish, @thequeenofthewinter, @juliette-has-a-pencil, @paraparadigm and whomsoever else has a WIP to post :>
Still not sharing the title for this one, but here's a snippet from my fic I'm writing for AU.
Fandom: TES
Genre: TROPES
Title: eheh (:
Word Count: 477
Teldryn, unfortunately, knew this was no time to gawk, or he’d have spent time openly admiring the man. Bolstered by the confidence that Athis would not, in fact, fall so easily here, he let out a raucous laugh. The noise felt strange coming from a throat that had been tight with nerves not moments ago—almost strangled. But it served its purpose. A few Ash Spawn broke off from their ill-fated attempts to land a hit on Athis and lurched in Teldryn’s direction. As soon as their backs were turned, Athis dashed forward and slashed through them, shoulder to hip, one after the other. They were close enough that Teldryn could hear the clank of the blade’s edge skimming over the odd texture of the heartstones. But it was enough. Two more crumbled to dust—or ash, really—and none rose up to take their place.
“WATCH!” shouted Athis, sprinting in Teldryn’s direction. He dodged and slid under a wayward sword strike before the sound of his voice even reached Teldryn’s ears.
Teldryn turned at the warning a second too late. Pain exploded as the Ash Spawn’s jagged blade bit into his ribs, tearing the fabric of his shirt. He felt blood oozing down his side and into the waistband of his breeches. The Ash Spawn yanked its blade away and ripped at the raw edges of his new wound. The fringes of his vision flashed white, then everything started to pulse red as pain began to numb out all other sensation.
He fell to his knees, Chillrend slipping from his grasp and falling to the ground with an unceremonious puff of ash.
“Fuck,” he muttered, deciding against reaching for his own tried and true Firebolt spell. He was good with those—but the trouble was, such spells did next to nothing to these things. It would be a waste, and with his hands shaking, it’d be a coin toss if he’d even hit the correct target at this point. He groaned and tried with whatever strength he could muster to keep himself from listing to the side and flopping into the ash himself.
Athis screamed from somewhere the darkening of Teldryn’s vision blocked from view. The sound made no sense—it was something Nordic, maybe, or that odd Dragon Language the bards talked about in their stupid spiraling tales. The words faded to the noise of clashing steel against volcanic glass as blow after blow was parried somewhere not too distant. Wanting to help, Teldryn scrambled to reach for Chillrend, gritting his teeth against the searing pain of moving his abused ribs—he couldn’t just sit here, bleeding into the dirt. He clamped a hand over his wound and channeled a Healing spell instead—though not a particularly strong one. It would have to be enough. He had to help before Athis got overwhelmed, otherwise both of them would be up the creek.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
âś“ Live Streamingâś“ Interactive Chatâś“ Private Showsâś“ HD Qualityâś“ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
