@thecomfywriter Here’s your happy scene Nav. I put the cut in because it's kind of long and also alludes to some heavy topics.
Blaise finished up his drum solo as Morgan began to sing again. She had a raspy quality to her voice that he loved. He always worried that singing like this hurt her, since the raspiness came from her illness, but she swore she was fine, and he probably couldn't stop her if he tried anyway. She loved singing.
It had been a long time since he had played with a full band like this. Just him and his friends, hiding from the summer heat in his basement, jamming out to their favourite songs. Kids at heart.
He looked at August, who was over on the keyboard, and quieted his drumming a bit when he realized that the keyboard player was coming up on a particularly complicated and impressive part. August noticed and blushed slightly, smiling at him. The others noticed too, or rather they noticed August's phenomenal playing, giving him encouraging smiles. August grew more confident as Blaise watched, and his playing got even better. Blaise smiled, glad that he was enjoying himself.
August looked much better these days. He had been released from the hospital a few months ago, and he was already looking healthier. His favourite sweater didn't hang as loosely on him as it did before. He looked less pale, less exhausted, and much happier. They were still keeping an eye on him of course, but you could tell he really was doing well.
The guitar solo drew Blaise's attention to Nikki and her bright pink and green electric guitar. She was playing with joyful abandon. He figured it was a product of her newfound freedom. Just a couple weeks ago, Nikki had finally cut ties with her family. How she managed to do it without losing access to their fortune he wasn't sure. That mischievous gleam in her eye told him all that he needed or wanted to know. On top of that, she had just gotten married. It was a spur of the moment decision they had made shortly after meeting each other while both blackout drunk, but shockingly, it seemed to be working out. They were planning a proper wedding (or as proper as it got with Nikki) soon, where he would be Nikki's best man. He was happy for her.
Speaking of recent marriages, they had finally convinced Kiara to play bass with them. She only tried it recently, but she learned incredibly quickly. Her marriage was one of convenience, and her and her husband fought like cats and dogs. That is until earlier today, when Morgan reportedly caught Kiara helping David with one of his many inventions. It seemed they finally found something they had in common. Morgan said there was a chance they might actually learn how to get along after all.
As for Blaise himself, in a couple of weeks, it would be the one year anniversary. One year sober. He hadn’t had any plans, but his friends decided to throw him a party. He wasn't supposed to know about it, but one of his friends had spilled the beans to get out of a chokehold in training. He'd pretend to be surprised anyway.
His eyes wandered to Morgan. Singing was one of her favourite things to do to wind down, but he could still see how tense she was. They hadn’t heard back from the clinic yet, but technology had come so far lately. Maybe this time it would work.
They just had to hope.
They just had to keep trying.
Yes, everything was finally looking up.
And for the first time in a long time, Blaise felt free.
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Hey guys! If you can't tell, from now on this is going to be where important WYS related things (i.e descriptions and links) are stored.
The WYS series takes place in a vast universe, with each book centering on a different group of people and their journeys, each offering a different perspective on the primary conflict: the Organization, a group that wants to take over the multiverse.
The books can be read in pretty much any order, as each is an individual story. In some cases there will be series within the series, but not often.
Status: First draft of first book
Themes: Found family, healing, redemption, war, grief, death, life, rebellion, destiny
I'll be putting links to character intros (new ones because I don't like the old ones), lore posts, and various other things here eventually, though for now it's pretty barren.
The Darkness Goddess stood and walked towards me. With her this close I could finally make out what she looked like. She towered over me, nine, nearly ten feet tall it seemed. Both her hair and skin were pitch black, and seemed to absorb the light around her, drawing it in and never letting it out. The kind of darkness you could get lost in. I forced myself to shift my focus to the white speckles that covered her body. They gleamed like tiny stars, and more importantly, felt much safer than that darkness. My eyes travelled up to meet her gaze properly, though it strained my neck. She had clear, intense grey eyes.
Just like mine.
When I woke up I was in my father’s arms. His eyes were shut tight and there were tears streaming down his face. It was incredibly jarring to see him cry. He had always been so strong. I reached up and gently wiped his tears away. His eyes shot open as soon as I touched him, and he clutched me tightly to him as if he was afraid I’d be taken away. I hugged him back, and noticed my brother, who was also leaning against Father, had begun to stir from his unconsciousness. I tapped Dad’s shoulder to get his attention and gestured to Alexander. He was quickly wrapped in a hug as well.
“How? How are you- What happened?” Father asked through his tears.
I considered answering his question, but ended up just putting my finger to my lips in a shushing gesture, then curled into him and buried my face in the crook of his neck. I was tired, cold, and sore, and I had no desire to attempt to explain the madness of the night.
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I woke up the next morning still cuddled against Father. He was already awake, so was Alexander, but neither had moved so as not to wake me. I shut my eyes and pretended to go back to sleep, snuggling against Dad. He chuckled and stroked my hair, which was a mess from not brushing it before going to bed. Alex gave an overdramatic grumbly monologue about me being too lazy to get out of bed while he set about getting ready for the day. I waved dismissively at him, determined to stay in bed as long as possible. I’m not a morning person, and I never have been; sue me, Alex.
- Melantha Tollemache, Chapter 6, 1799: The Joy of Sorrow
Getting thoroughly soaked within a minute or so, we walked around to the front of the carriage, where we were greeted by the driver standing next to the horses, holding his hands on his head and looking thoroughly shocked. It was easy to see what had affected him such. Right by the horses’ feet lay a young boy about my age. His clothes were ratty and torn, and he looked rather beat up. It seemed as though he had been hit by our carriage, but by the look of him it was clear he wasn’t in very good condition to start with. He obviously was very poor. Father knelt down beside him and checked his pulse, and the boy began to stir. Father began to stand, and within seconds two older boys came running out of the rain. They weren’t too out of breath, so they were probably nearby, though it was near impossible to see anything in this weather.
“You hit our brother!” The older of the two shouted, his voice somehow loud enough to be heard over the subsequent crack of thunder.
“He could have been killed!” The younger boy shrieked, his voice was far more shrill than that of his older brother. The boy who had supposedly been hit slowly made his way to his feet and stumbled towards the two boys.
“You have to pay for us to take him to the doctor!” The older one demanded.
“He might die otherwise!” The younger one shrieked.
The youngest one coughed, choosing to remain silent and let his brothers continue their routine. He had done his job. Now all he needed to do was sell it. The three of them really had a good routine laid out here. I imagined people fell for it rather often. They certainly had our driver convinced. The man was practically hysterical. My father however turned to me.
“Why are you making that face Mel? You seem… skeptical.”
I smiled sweetly. The boys looked outraged and hurt, though it was certainly caused by the thought of getting caught by a little girl as opposed to wanting justice for their brother. I pivoted on my heel and turned towards the carriage, my smile disappearing as I got down to business.
“Driver,” I said, just loud enough to be heard by everyone over the rain. “Does this rock here look large enough to have caused the bump we felt?” I pointed to a large rock that was just under our carriage. The driver looked surprised and came over to inspect the rock.
“I suppose, my lady.” He responded.
“And does it look light enough for one of them to have carried it over to the road and thrown it in front of us?” I asked, turning to point instead at the boys. The driver turned to study them, thinking for a moment, then turned back and picked up the rock, giving it a few experimental lifts, then turning away from all of us and chucking it out into the rain, out of sight. He turned back to me and nodded.
“You’re crazy lady! He’s bigger’n us! We didn’t throw no rock!” The youngest one shouted in a strong, confident, angry voice that had no business coming from an injured boy’s throat. The poor English indicated a lack of education, further showing how poor they were. He was evidently very angry that his acting hadn’t been enough to convince me. The driver seemed to consider reprimanding the boy for disrespecting a noblewoman, but he noticed I was about to speak and decided to wait to hear what I had to say.
“Judging by your tans, your clothing, and your general build, I would have to assume that you are farmers. Farmers do hard work in the field all day. You do not have to be as strong as our driver, but I am certain at least one of you is strong enough to throw that rock.” The boys were too shocked to argue. The eldest recovered first.
“So what if we are?” He demanded. “That don’t mean we threw it! Give us the money!”
“He needs it, he’s real hurt!” The middle boy chimed in. The youngest coughed again for emphasis. So he was smart enough to manage that at least, to stay relatively in character. I scoffed, getting annoyed now.
“If he were really hit by our carriage, he would be far more visibly damaged. If the horses had trampled him, he would almost certainly be dead or dying, which means he would have had to run between the horses and the carriage, in which case he would have been hit by the harness ropes, as he is too tall to go under them, so he would have fallen to the side and we would not have noticed him. Furthermore, if he had gone under the wheel, he would have at least one visibly crushed limb if he hadn’t died. I also can not imagine he is so impossibly stupid to not have noticed the carriage even in this weather. Had he not seen it he would have heard it, so unless you are all completely brainless, we can not have hit him because even if he is an utter moron, surely one of you would have been intelligent enough to pull him back from the road.” The boys looked outraged again. My father came up beside me and set his hand on my shoulder.
“I think that’s enough now. You should get back in the carriage, you’ll catch something in this weather.” I nodded and climbed back in, watching from the window.
