#themostpowerfuleditor

Closing her tired, puffy eyes, the girl leaned back against the bench. She didn't know where she would go next, but it didn't really matter, so long as it was away. So long as he didn't find her...

How had it all come to this? Ella knew that Madam would always get rid of her in the end, but she never imagined she'd be this heartless. If things had bad before, now it truly was life or death.

If only Flora could see her now. She'd thought her young mistress looked bad before. But now... Ella looked like a shell of a person. Her weight had dropped even more than it had after her father's death. Her eyes were sunken and hollow. Her hands constantly shook. It was beyond her control now. She looked a second from vanishing, like a spectre.

Was running even worth it anymore? Maybe she should let herself be caught and pay the price... At least then all her suffering would be over. She'd be with her family again. Her mother, her father, her beloved brother. But every time those thoughts filled her mind, Ella couldn't fight back the memories of Kit. Was he still looking for her? But then, what did it matter... She could never be with him now.

Dug laid upon the ground lazily, like the lazy dog he was. Although, of course, he’s a b s o l o u t e l y in the way of everything.  Want to walk by him? Nope Want to get at what he was laying on? Nope.  Want to just sit and admire the dog on his back sprawled out? 

y e s. 

A greater lot of barbarians had never been witnessed! At least, not since she’d departed the welcome shores of England! Of that, Sarah was certain! She was relatively new to the Americas. When her father, a prominent Lord, and lawyer opted to send her westward to further her desire to become a journalist, she had gladly taken the stagecoach. But what she had fathomed awaited her on the glorious gleaming coast that invaded many a conversation- this had certainly NOT been it.

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Tubbs clutches the latest, hot off the press parchment with anxious fingers. Her weary-eyed gaze grows solemn.  

With blood in the ink of the headlines

you might ask what it takes to remember 

The wafting scent of fresh-baked cookies was positively irresistible! The pleasant smell hearkened back to better days. It actively toyed with strands of nearly forgotten memories. Or were they daydreams? Anna couldn’t discern or differentiate between the two with any level of certainty.

“Look, Sven!” She giddily remarks. Anna’s turquoise hues briefly shift to her reindeer companion making sure his gaze followed her’s to the full tray. Her mittened hand plucked one upwards, holding the still steaming parcel briefly to her nose before it is deposited into her mouth. The taste is scrumptious! The scent had not been misleading!

“These are sooooo goood!” She appraises. The first cookie is soon followed by two more and then she loses count. Resisting temptation had never really been her strong-point and as a result, she falters. Crumbs dot her lips and her cheeks puff out till they more closely resembled a squirrel’s than any humans. It wasn’t very regal but who cares? No one was watching. Were they?

The suddenness of the voice causes Anna to jolt. She slowly spins to face her accuser with a guilty expression plastered upon her face. In a whimsical moment of humor, she points a mittened hand at Sven. Yes. As if, the slightly chunky reindeer is the most believable of explanations as to why the cookie trays are now laid barren. “He says,” Anna starts, swallowing down what remained in her mouth without choking. Taking on a deeper far more masculine tone the copper-haired woman continues, “that they are the best in the kingdom!” It takes all of Anna’s strength not to giggle at the absurdity of it all. Although an appreciative glance, closely followed by one of betrayal, is not to be missed crossing Sven’s face. Finding one, solitary, cookie left tucked in her mitten, Anna returns it to the tray. “See! He even left one for you!” Had she not been the culprit, she might have laid claim to the generosity herself. She emphatically points towards the lone survivor of her raid.

Answered ask for: @themostpowerfuleditor  Freeze--

Frigid flakes of white pour like confetti from the ominous grey clouds looming above. A quiet hush spills over the very corners earth as it is buried under a thick, wet blanket devoid of color and its usual liveliness. 

Trembling and cold-stiffened fingers attempt to draw a finely woven cloth around her slender figure. The bitter breeze drives strands of her jet-black hair away from her neck, leaving it exposed to the elements. A series of shivers rattle through her veins, knocking her bones one against the other. Curse the winter for being so unforgivingly brutal. 

Mulan doesn’t have a match nor a fire to warm herself beside. Even Khan’s large body beside her doesn’t provide enough heat. His long nose hovers over her violently quaking shoulders. Her breaths linger in the air for several moments after they are expelled from her lungs.  

Pride and stubborn will keep her fighting to stay awake. This was to be her comeuppance for defying the rules of Chinese culture, for bringing dishonor upon the Fa Family. In truth, Mulan staying in this situation was her way of delaying the inevitable. Returning home to inform her family of how she had further disgraced them in her efforts to save the life of her father. Would she ever be able to do anything other than mess things up?

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Looking from the map on her phone, to the street sign the young woman sighed. She knew she probably should should have learned the area better before arriving. Her hazel eyes scanned the area, seeing only one other woman nearby.