COLD SHOULDER

The docks were busy. They usually were at daybreak, and sailors and deckhands called out to each other amidst the din of crying gulls and sloshing waves. Magi and laborer alike moved crates from dock to ship, and ship to dock.

You took a breath, the smell of sun and salt stark and cutting to the nose so early on.

The ticket felt electric in your hand. It wasn’t heavy, It wasn’t light, but it was there, and you could feel it buzzing, tingling, wanting to be used.

And you wanted to use it.

‘As lakes freeze, the ice cracks and rattles. Tradition has it that this is the sound of the water crying for a blanket of snow to protect it from the cold. 

On rare days, when still, cold air lies on top of freshly-frozen water, crystals grow forming delicate fronds of ice. These are frost flowers and they can bloom and fade in just a few minutes.’ 

Andaeros has, on occasion, had certain fantasies involving Zaralen that he has sometimes wished might happen.

Continued from: 

“Fights, Pt. I”

I hadn’t been sober for weeks, and everyone wanted to keep me that way.

Blazzil wanted me in the ring, drunk from punches.

The bruisers and the crowd wanted me at the bar, drunk on whiskey.

Fight-bunnies wanted me in the bedroom, drunk on them.

Some people were easier to say “no” to than others, but with time, something about the river, something about the stone. Erosion and all that.

It’s our fate, as mortals, bound by time and mortality, to wear and to tarnish, isn’t it?

1D Cute as can be! Thanks @perchedon!

[noun]

an individual who has an uncontrollable obsession with smoking tobacco products.