Topic Site Write: The Great Challenge v2
Edited by Venita on 5/7/12 3:18 AM (PDT)
What is a Site Write?
A Site Write is generally a short story you write on a whim about a given topic/event/place/person/word/ect. You are simply asked to write whatever comes to mind and heart. There are no limits to how long one's story can be, but keep in mind we are not writing novels here.
Rules for a Site Write:
Limited editing. (Grammar and the likes perfectly okay. Changing the story, no no.)
The goal of a Site Write.
The purpose is to stimulate your creative side by having you write about reactions, events and the likes we normally would not see in the character. Think of this writing topic as a way to break between your storylines and give personal depth where you may have not had the chance to.
So what is making this different than last time?
In the last challenge, all you did was write for 30 days straight and in the end those of you who made it got more than enough in prizes. Be it straight up gold, BoEs of current raid value, epic enchants and ect.
This time around, the prizes will be the same. Those of you who stick it out will get prizes valued around 5k gold. Everyone that makes it to 30 days will gain something.
However, making it 30 days gives you the option to enter in for the grand prize. What is the grand prize and how are you going to get it? Simple. I will post a very thought invoking topic and you will have 3 days to make a post. Your story will be judged by three other people, not including myself. When the judges have decided who shall win, the winner will gain 15k gold and a mechno bike.
Either way you enter, you cannot lose. As the writer, you are going to gain so much more than just prizes. This challenge is to help those of you come out of your shy shell and be proud of the characters you put so much depth into.
Plus, you can't go wrong with almost 40k gold worth of prizes, right? :)
Yes, you can write about any topic on any day if you are NOT entering the challenge.
Edited by Venita on 6/14/12 11:10 PM (PDT)
For those of you interested in this challenge, I have decided to outline quite a few rules for you to follow to ease the pain it was to go back and count every post. (Though I will probably end up doing it anyways.) As well as help guide you through how you are going to be eligible for the chance at a bigger prize.
Link to the prior Site Write thread here:
May 7, 2012 - Surprise
May 8, 2012 - Somehow by magic, your character is given one shot to redo and/or take back something that happened in their lives. What would they take back? Would your character take the offer or would they decide against playing with fate?
May 9, 2012 - Worthless
May 10, 2012 - Your character is presented with an offer far too tempting to turn away. For one day, your character is allowed to be the leader of any race (other than their current one) of either faction. Which race would it be? Why? And what would they do as the supreme ruler?
May 11, 2012 - Alive
May 12, 2012 - Warlocks. Your character comes across one being very obvious and stupid with his magic. What do you do? Do you walk away and pretend it wasn't happening or do you say something, perhaps do anything, to stop and/or encourage it?
May 13, 2012 - Marriage
May 14, 2012 - Attraction
THIS IS THE LAST DAY TO BE ENTERED FOR THE CHALLENGE CONTEST.
May 15, 2012 - Your character, for better or worse, is taken on a trip to three different locations. It is unsure why you are there, but your gathering in Stormwind does not begin there. For today's adventure, you are transported to the gloom halls of the Icecrown Citadel. With no direction at all, you are allowed to explored the empty palace once filled to the brim with undead minions. What does your character explore, if anything? How do they feel walking the halls? Is it still cold and cruel as they may have remembered it or been told?
May 16, 2012 - On your character's second adventure, you are transported to the sands (also known as the wastelands) of Silithus. From there, you are brought to the gates of the fallen kingdom and forced to make it all the way to the room where the Old God once thrived. What is it like in there after all this time? Does it feel eerie or just plain nothing? What does your character do while spending time in this room?
May 17, 2012 - This is the last adventure for your character through this 'trip'. You are sitting in a group and asked to drink a certain potion. Instantly after drinking it, you are transported to the memory of where your character grew up. What is it like? What does your character see? Do they catch a glimpse of themselves running by as children? After your experience, you open your eyes and realize you are back in the same place as you grew up in. What changed? How does your character feel?
Edited by Venita on 6/14/12 11:11 PM (PDT)
May 18, 2012 - Pathetic
May 19, 2012 - Your character's favorite animal companion at any point in their life.
May 20, 2012 - Your character is given a chance to recall one person from the dead. Who do they summon and what happens? Knowing that time is short before they have to return to the world beyond, what is the last thing you want them to depart with/knowing?
May 21, 2012 - Itch, itch. Your character has an itch in the most impossible place to scratch. Where is it and how does your character dramatically solve the problem?
May 22, 2012 - Freeform/Open topic
May 23, 2012 - Describe your character's favorite weather.
May 24, 2012 - Demiurge
May 25, 2012 - Sleepless
May 26, 2012 - Who does your character regret meeting and why?
May 27, 2012 - Either by dream or thought, your character finds themselves thinking/dreaming about executing one person of other faction. This person could be known, nameless or one person of this server. However the catch is this, your character is thrown up in all the politics surrounding said death. It is going to be public and brutal by your hands. Do you go through with it? Whether you do or don't, who is it and why? What would you (or were going to) do to them?
May 28, 2012 - Junkie
May 29, 2012 - By chance, you character happens to stumble across an enemy. This enemy can be personal, from the other faction or an acquaintance. The two of you are caught on neutral ground, so no fighting is to happen there. So what happens, if anything at all?
May 30, 2012 - Future
May 31, 2012 -
June 1, 2012 - What's an unusual/weird item/person/place that your character finds beauty in?
June 2, 2012 - While in Stormwind, you character is stalked by a homeless fellow. He doesn't say a word to you and won't let you outrun him. There is nothing pleasant about him, so much to your character's annoyance, you're forced to interact with him. What happens? Ultimately, the beggar just wants a slice of cheese you may or may not have.
June 3, 2012 - Scribbled across a random piece of parchment is the following: Each to his grief, each to his loneliness and fidgety revenge. What does this mean to your character?
June 4, 2012 - How does your character push forward?
June 5, 2012 - Your character to asked to retell a story before their own audience. What story do they tell and how does it turn out?
June 6, 2012 - Confessions. Your character is brought somewhere by or against their will to confess something they are guilty of, carrying in their heart and/or withholding from the enemy. Is the confession simple or did the secrets have to be ripped from your flesh? Explain what happens and whether your character breaks.
June 7, 2012 - Open
June 8, 2012 - Describe the greatest gift given to your character.
June 9, 2012 - Your character finds someone a crying mess. They explained their life is miserable and they cannot stand the fact someone won't change despite countless encounters to try and help the troubled party. What does your character do?
June 10, 2012 - Your character's greatest accomplishment thus far.
June 11, 2012 - Excuses
June 12, 2012 - In an odd conversation, you and a friend are discussing the real afterlife. Your friend is convinced you will die and reborn as something else. To indulge in their chatter, what do you tell them? What is your character reborn as?
June 13, 2012 - No topic
June 14, 2012 - No topic
Edited by Venita on 5/6/12 8:40 PM (PDT)
Example of a prior entry:
April 15, 2012
Secrets. We all carry them. What is one of your character's secrets?
“Come on, Anryssa!”
“Shut up, Kaeden. I am running as fast as I can.”
Trailing behind, Anryssa tried as hard as she could to gain the advantage over the eldest, but she was no match for his speed. Casually, the young man turned around and started to run backwards. Grinning widely at his struggling sibling, “What is the matter, Anryssa? I thought you could run with the big leagues!” He naturally teased her.
Together, their feet pounded the earth and they edged closer to home. Both were determined to out do the other and would stop at nothing to win. Hearts racing, chests heaving and sweat running from their foreheads, they started to feel exhaustion on their young bodies, but nothing could break their spirit and focus. In moments, Anryssa started to take the lead. Her long Draenei legs extending out as far as they could to give her mere inches over her competition. Glancing back briefly, she smirked seeing she had pulled ahead, but such did not last long. For as soon as she turned her head to look forward, Kaeden returned to his proper running ways and sprinted. With a burst of speed, he bolted past Anryssa and slammed against the door of their home.
“I win!” He shouted as Anryssa finally started to make her way to him.
Protesting his win, “That’s not fair, you cheated!”
“Don’t be such a sore loser.”
“I am not! You are the one who cut corners at the log!”
“Yea, uh huh!” Anryssa sparked an attitude towards him.
As the two bickered on, Venita and Lavarrus sat in the living room with their redheaded twin boys playing peacefully on the rub before them. They were proud parents of their four children. Lavarrus had accepted Venita’s prior two as his own and treated them as such. Turning her head at their teenage fight, Venita sighed. About to rise up, Lavarrus stopped her. “I will take care of it,” he said smoothly and headed to the door.
“I am telling Mother.”
“Lights, Anryssa. You lose one time and you are always crying to Mother about it.”
“Well, if you weren’t such a cheater!”
Leaning against the wooden door, Kaeden baited his sister more, “It is not my fault you can’t be as great as me!”
Just then, Lavarrus swung open the door and like a fool, Kaeden toppled to his bottom into the home. With stern eyes, Lavarrus leered at the two and they silenced themselves quickly. They waited for him to speak for they knew better. “Why is it you two fight over the smallest of things constantly? Is it truly worth all the effort?”
Anryssa fidgeted in place before finally bursting out, “Kaeden always has to be first! It is not fair!”
“I can’t help it,” he bore his smirk up to the young woman and then to Lavarrus as though he would be on the winning side with Kaeden.
“Life is not about who is first and who is last. You two have much to learn. I advise you set aside your petty attitudes and pay attention to what your mother and I have given you instead. You should work as a team, not enemies.” Amazingly calm, Lavarrus ended his remark by stepping aside so the two could come in. “Go to your rooms.”
First to march in, Anryssa stomped her hooves against the floor all the way to her room. This prompted Venita to watch her in passing and call her name once to settle her daughter’s aggression. Kaeden pushed himself up and frowned to Lavarrus. The Worgen raised a brow towards him and expected some response from the boy, there was none to be spoken. He too walked to his room with his head hung and avoiding his mother’s gaze.
Upon returning to Venita, Lavarrus licked her cheek, “Handled. They quarrel more than their brothers and they are toddlers.” The twins looked up at Lavarrus and banged their hands on the train set they shared. Their shrills of joy filled both Ven and Lavs’ hearts.
“They’ll grow out of it one day, Lavarrus. I am sure of it,” she said simply.
“They will, Venita. For all their bickering, they are good children.”
Venita smiled to Lav and rested her head on his chest as his arm came around her shoulder. The two lovers watched proudly as their dreams of lives together had become a reality.
However upstairs in his room, Kaeden sat at the edge of his bed staring out the window. Though Lavarrus was not his biological father, Kaeden never looked at him as anything less. He had openly embraced the Gilnean as his male role model, looked up to him and even loved him as much as a son should. For this, Lavarrus and Kaeden had a wonderful relationship.
Edited by Venita on 5/6/12 8:36 PM (PDT)
Just then, he heard light tapping on the his bedroom door. With a groan, “Go away, Anryssa!”
“It is your mother, Kaeden.”
Pushing open the door, Venita entered and quietly shut it. Her blue eyes watched as her son hung his head in her presence and she frowned. Sitting on the bed with him, she patted his shoulder, “You have to learn to stop aggravating your sister so much. I know you two are teenagers, but soon enough you two won’t live together as siblings and you’ll have lives of your own. Embrace this as a family, not as anything less.”
Kaeden nodded his head, “Sorry, Mother.”
“It is okay. Now get some rest, you have a busy day tomorrow with training.” She leaned over and kissed his forehead. As she stood to leave, Kaeden was sparked with this need to blurt his question once more.
“Who is my father?”
A question which stunned Venita in place. She had never heard him ask of his father in such a manner and she thought of turning around to scold him for it, but she knew it would be wrong to do. The time had come where Kaeden was flourishing into a man and he deserved to know the truth. All of it.
Much to his surprise, Venita sat down and let out a sigh of her own. “Your father.” Reminded of who he is, Venita closed her eyes and remembered the man for all that he was. Handsome, charming, bitter and hard. He was a noble paladin and a man of his word, but his name was not Canith Renosi.
All of his focus was on his mother as he impatiently waited for her to speak. His patience waned quickly and he blurted out to her again, “Why can’t you tell me?”
“It is not that I can’t..”
“Then what is stopping you.”
“Guilt.. shame. Kaeden, what I am about to tell is the first time I have ever spoken of it. It was in the past and should stay where it belongs. My choice to keep this from you and the world was because of the time we lived in. A time which has thankfully gone by.”
Absolutely confused by his mother’s words, he held her hand and asked softly once more, “Please. Who is my father?”
And so the story began. In her youth, Venita stood beautifully and proudly as one of the new rising stars in Stormwind. She had amazingly gathered up people to listen to her words of peace, hope and change for tomorrow. As quickly as she made new friends, she also made enemies, but they did not bother her. With her place becoming secured as a champion of the people, so did her place among the council of nine. During her rise, she had been invited to sit on the council of Stormwind as the first woman and overseer of most things concerning her wonderful city. It was there she laid eyes on a man from across the table and became instantly captivated by him.
Being so young and among the elite, Venita was shy to this man and tried to avoid him entirely, but her eyes would not let her for long. He wore armor of red, black and gold. A patch over his eye, a head full of silver threads and green eyes as deep as emeralds themselves. He was a handsome fellow who had years of experience beyond Venita’s understanding and was completely uninterested in the woman afar.
Week after week, Venita and this man sat at the table of nine and discussed the affairs presented. They debated against the new ideas and together shared some of the same ideals on topics which would harm the city in the long run. It wasn’t until one explosive night, Venita witnessed the meltdown of the council and watched as the man she was starting to adore rise one last time and walk away from the table forever.
She followed his steps and dismissed herself from the corrupted council and chased after him for words. Though, their conversation did not go as stellar as she had been hoping. He had given her a cruel eye and spoke harsh words. Words which crushed poor Venita and she retreated away with fellow members of her order.
It wasn’t until hours later when she had been roaming the streets of Stormwind that he came for her. Sparing the details of their intimate moment for her son, she gently rested her hand over his.
As the tale went on, Venita explained she was caught in a whirlwind of events. Taken by storm by a paladin whom remained nameless still. She spoke of meeting Canith in this same period, but that they had not been intimate in any regard. She had betrayed her future husband by sleeping with a stranger at best because she felt weak to the man’s charms.
However, as shameful of an act it was, Venita said clear as day, “I do not regret it.”
The subject had lightened up greatly and Venita told story after story of who Kaeden’s real father was. She spoke fondly of his time in Northrend and explained in great detailed how he led men through the snowy plains and conquered the dreaded Naxxramas with all of Stormwind’s true heroes. All these stories had filled Kaeden with so much pride to know after all these years, his true father was so accomplished.
Edited by Venita on 5/6/12 8:37 PM (PDT)
Then the time came and Venita bowed her head in a somber state, “Your father perished in Northrend as he fought with his brothers in the Crusade.”
Kaeden bit his lip, “Is that why you hated them so?”
She shook her head, “Not entirely.”
Taken back by the truth finally, Kaeden looked at his palms and hardly noticed his mother leave for a moment. It wasn’t until the door shut again that he broke out of his quiet trance. Returning to him, Venita held a box.
“I have waited for the day I would tell you the truth of your origin. To speak of the man I was fond of and admired. To tell you all his great tales so that he may never be forgotten. Part of me is sorry for having withheld this from you for so long, Kaeden, but the other part of me is proud because I know it is not the lion which beats in your heart.”
Standing up, she set the box on the bed and opened it. Pulling out a tabard with a design yet to be seen. “Kaeden. You are growing up to be a fine man and I have no doubt you will bring honor to us all, but the honor you will bring to your father will be even greater for you were born to be something more. It courses through your blood and everyday I see him in you.”
Flaring out the tabard, she dressed her son with it and awaited his eyes to look down. When he did, the designs of a two headed eagle stood boldly out. The color of royal blue complimented the house he was born into and he suddenly felt the swell of happiness from inside. His eyes so green looked up at his mother and expressed this much without words.
Placing her hands on his shoulders, “Tonight, your father smiles down upon you. Born of the eagle, you are destined to soar as high as he once did and become as great of a hero as he once was. A hero Azeroth so desperately needs.”
“You are Kaeden Kurnous, son of Eldanesh Arestes Kurnous. Reborn a man in the flame and meant to be the eagle to carry on your father’s name.”
Venita leaned forward and kissed her son’s forehead once more. “As your mother, I couldn’t be anymore proud of you.”
After hours had passed, she finally departed and retreated to her own bed where Lavarrus laid waiting for her. Kaeden was left alone in his room and noticed his mother left behind the box which held the tabard inside. Curious, he dragged it closer and peered in. Much to his surprise, there was a packaged item at the bottom. With care, he pulled the item out and settled it on his lap. His unwrapped and dusted the cover off to reveal the words ‘Libram of the Valiant‘.
Many years ago, Venita had a copy of Eldanesh’s libram made for when the time was right. She knew in her heart his teachings would live on and that his words could shape Kaeden into the man he was meant to be. Purposely, she had words of his father’s wisdom inscribed delicately and with elegance on the first page.
War is my Master, and Death my Mistress,
With her at my side I shall not want,
With her at my side I shall not fear,
For who can fear life when Death walks at your side?
Kaeden smiled for though the words were foreign to him, he felt as though he had known them all along.
((I probably will not be taking the challenge this time around, seeing as I am working on a daily thread for Belandris, but if I so feel inclined, I'll toss something up for everyone's enjoyment.
May 7, 2012 - Surprise
The child cowered away from him every day.
Few knew why the plate-clad man walked the same route every day, but even so he was twice-born, and therefore automatically half the man that the living of Stormwind assumed he was. This one was stranger than all the others, in that it walked the same route every day, one way, and did not return until the next. The large circular patrol faded from the memories of most, as few ventured half as far as the man with the cold aura, and none followed.
The child followed at first. Homeless, hungry, orphaned, it followed the man at first until the creaking of the head caused her to cower away, then scamper into an alleyway, or even once dive into the Canals to avoid his wrath that she knew, knew was hiding behind those dead eyes. She told her friends of this, other street urchins and orphans who ranged from the Cathedral Square to grub a copper from the canals, or see if there were kind passers-by that would grace them with a biscuit, or a coin, or even a rack of foam swords if it was their special week in particular. On select days they would get sugar cookies from the cook near the Stockades, and sit and tell stories. Hers was of the Twice-Born Man, and his dark armor and wicked intents. He was a warlock ("No, I've seen the ones they call warlocks at the Slaughtered Lamb! None of -them- wear plate armor!"). He did riturals ("No, there haven't been any kids missing!"). He was evil ("Nuh-uh, prove it! Where does he go?").
Every day that passed, the Twice-Born Man followed the same path, and every day the child moved a little farther, to see where he went, before her courage failed and she fled. The other urchins laughed, and teased her. She didn't have the heart to see if her stories were real!
That night, she declared that she was going to follow him all the way, and if she disappeared, then they would know her stories were true!
She took special care the next day to follow the Twice-Born Man on his path. Her heart raced faster as she passed her alleyways, the canals, the safe places where she knew he would not follow if he desired to give chase. She saw him enter a dark alleyway in the restaurant district, and stopped at the edge.
The waif stared into the darkness, mustering up the courage to follow. With a gulp of air, she dove in after him - and ran smack dab into his plated legs not six steps inside.
Fear froze her in place. She could see the glow in his eyes as he bent down to stare at her tattered clothes, her thin figure, and her messy hair. She could hear the click of metal against metal as his fingers moved, drawing something from a satchel as he reached for her. Her scream was a muted squeak as the object came into focus, and dumbounded pause replaced terror as she looked at the cupcake in her hand.
"Are you...surprised?" asked the Twice-Born Man, while he picked up the waif and set her on her feet. She nodded, and bit into the cupcake - a squirrel of a girl, nibbling on confections.
"So am I," he said. "I am continually surprised at the courage you young ones show. Would you like to see what I do every day, why I take this path?"
She nodded again. The man straightened and opened a door in the alleyway, releasing a rush of aromas - Breads, pies, cakes, and many other meals.
"Come inside and see," he said, stepping aside and pulling off his plated gloves. "I am certain you will have a wonderful story to tell your friends this evening."
She went inside, and he followed, closing the kitchen entry to the Canal Street Bakery.
Edited by Valdiis on 5/8/12 6:22 PM (PDT)
"Take a squadron out to Blackrock tonight, Commander."
"Yes, sir." With a stiffness born of a life-challenged state, the draenei female's plate-gloved hand snapped up in salute at her superior officer. But there were only the two of them around, and she'd learned to grow brave around this man who'd once tried to have her beheaded. "May I ask vhy, sir?" she dared.
"You may ask." An insufferable smirk settled in the hardly-visible opening of his greying goatee. "And this time I will answer," he relented, leaning back in the wooden chair built along the lines of a body half his build. For a moment, she feared it would break under the stress, but dwarves make chairs to survive tavern brawls - one plated human was not enough to bother its small, sturdy frame. "There has been word of an expedition of scholars heading down into the old Molten Core, but not word of their return. Given the elemental instabilities in the cities of late and the area's known fire problems, the 1113th was asked to send a retrieval team." The draenei female let her hand slowly drop and return to its usual position folded with its partner at the small of her back as the Major continued, "Fire is somewhat more of a problem for us sometimes, so I am sending a healer from the Icecrown company."
"Ekanos?" She perked up. She rather liked the gentle druid healer and his polite manner; he was much easier to herd around than the cranky old Farseer mercenary from the Major's illicit hired company.
But the Major shook his head. "No. Laurenhall's indisposed. Hangover from Brewfest, I believe. I have a new hire. He will meet you ther-"
"As long as it is not zat cranky old Farseer!" she broke in.
Major Orill almost smiled. Almost. "No. As I said, you will meet the new hire there. Now get that squadron moving. They will make the forges cold if they keep standing out there."
Valdiis rubbed her gloved hand across the back of her neck. She didn't sweat in the heat, but her bloodworms got more active as they warmed up and one of them had decided that right between vertebrae C4 and C5 was a great place to set up a salsa dance. Not, of course, that she thought of it in those terms. Consider it a literary device. A not-entirely-gentle nudge was enough to get the little parasite calmed down as she led the squadron of seven's trudge up the ashy side of Blackrock Mountain. The heavy iron door leading inside was open, but then it always was. Her adjunct healer was nowhere to be seen. She turned to address the squadron as they finished the ascent and fell into formation, and that's when one of her Corporals nudged the Private next to him and pointed behind her. The titansteel shoe nailed to the bottom of her hoof squealed on the stone beneath her as she spun.
Telaar was always hungry, always low on food. Feast days such as this one were rare, but visitors from Shattrath had brought several crates of supplies. At the unavoidable insistence of her harridan mother, Valdiis was sitting stiffly in one of the round-backed chairs of Telaar's rest and social hall, glowering at the door as she waited for her...date. Even thinking the word made her angry.
At least she'd managed to escape with her dignity and avoid Omii shoving her into a dress.
And there he was, all broad and tall and a little soft in the middle, like a strong man gone to seed. His armor gleamed as if it hadn't seen hard use in seasons and his short, dark hair was rumpled like he could care less that he'd come to meet a female to whom an arranged marriage might well be in the offering. With a booming laugh and an easy smile, he flopped bonelessly down across the table from her and proceeded to order for the both of them: mudfish.
She hated mudfish.
Dinner was strained, though she suspected he didn't notice it. If she'd stripped down and danced the kamil-amir on the table, the only thing he'd do is complain that she was blocking access to his food. She'd barely touched her mudfish and he was just leaning forward to ask if she was going to eat that when her brother - her nether-blasted, meddling, eldest brother - passed by the table with a smirk and a comment about how she would sleep with anything wearing pants.
The ensuing brawl destroyed two tables, five chairs, one rug, and eleven dinner plates. The gleaming, chubby vindicator's only contribution was to snag her mudfish off the table before she picked it up and chucked it at Zunaadrin. If she never saw the oozy Ortuuze again, it would be too soon.
There he was, all broad and tall and a lot soft in the middle, like a strong man gone to pasture. His armor gleamed as if it hadn't seen hard use in seasons and his short, dark hair was rumpled like he could care less that he'd come to meet a Commander of a military unit paying him handsomely for healing. He grinned broadly and lifted a hand in greeting as she sneered at him.
Edited by Wilano on 5/8/12 1:21 AM (PDT)
Well, I’m definitely entering, though for some reason this first topic left me absolutely stumped for hours. Incidentally, that’s why my entry is so short.
Entry 1: Surprise
It was strange, how quickly one’s outlook could change. Just moments ago Garon had been frothing at the mouth, howling axe screaming with anticipation as he and clanmates had charged into battle against the night elves, and then the whirring blade of one huntress had cut him messily in half.
As he lay in the muck, one half of his body separated from the other, he felt surprisingly numb to the pain. He knew that he was beyond healing and did not concern himself with thoughts of survival, nor waste his last moments panicking: instead, he set his mind to considering his ancestors, his descendants, the actions he had taken in life and his loyalties to the Warchief.
As he watched the battle, he wondered if any of his clansmen’s final thoughts would be as his had been, or if any of them would know the peace of a quick death. He shrugged it off, and as darkness overtook him, he made ready to rejoin his ancestors.
Edited by Shirexia on 5/8/12 1:15 AM (PDT)
Entry 1 - Surprise
The pouch fit against her palms in the likeness of a glove, and inside jingled beads of glass, porcelain, and various metals. It was with care that she loosened her grip around the leathery flap securing the contents, and guided by a gentle jostle spilled a dozen marbles. They varied in size, shape, and color, but they were unmistakable as such, and they clinked together before settling in an aimless fasion against the stone below.
"Villius!" She cried out, placing a cupped hand to her mouth. While dancing across her face was a lopsided grin, one of mirth and mischief, her voice was an undulating wail that rose in pitch to a loud keen. "Villius, help me! I cannot move and -- I am hurt, Villius!" White teeth clamped down against the swell of her lips as she slid away from the entrance of the estate with feet scuffing noisily against the ground.
There was a pause wherein she did not speak, did not move; the house was as quiet and still as the dusk settling in. It was cause to put her brow to a furrow, and so again she called, "Please, it hurts to move my leg! I slipped, Villius!" In truth, there was neither scratch nor wound upon her person. Vestments fitting of summer wrapped loosely around her gangly frame, covering most of her body but allowing any errant breeze to provide comfort; surely it offered no true protection, but on that night there was no need. Yet, again, her feigned distress was answered with silence.
Instead of the expected words assaulting her ears, there was a creak, wood, a strange whirring as though an object unseen whipped through the air, and then a splash. It was cold against her head, shoulders, and tendrils of clear, pristine water trickled down the lengths of her arms, stained her clothing. Her spine was as stiff as the post she wrapped her hands around as limbs slender and scrambling jolted her upright. The bucket rolled back and forth along a windowsill, but an arm dr.aped atop it stilled the motion. Her eyes were wide and mostly shrouded by tangled strands of inky black when she looked up through the gap in elaborate awnings and emblazoned banners at the boy and the smug grin he was sporting.
"Now we're even, Shirexia." Said her brother as he gave the bucket a final shake, remaining droplets plinking against the top of her head.
I should hope so, as I did it a lot the last time. <_<
Excellent. It wasn't specified, and today's prompt is speaking more to my other characters than to this one. (Okay, this one too, but if I answer it, I'll give away a current plot hook.)