Character Castle 2.0
- This topic has 2,849 replies, 27 voices, and was last updated 1 year, 5 months ago by .
-
Posts
-
@everyone
Okay, so I’m going to follow Emily and Denali’s example and skip forward a bit in character development for Aydin! Instead of the beginning of his arc, he’s now mid-arc. He hasn’t gotten over the lie yet, but now he knows there is another option at least.
I’m doing this mostly because otherwise he’d instantly perish in any kind of fight and when Chantara inevitably starts phsycologically torturing him he’ll just agree with her which is comedic, ngl, but also very sad.
So, he has changed quite a bit during this time, about three months. His hair is even longer and I think he’s wearing it pulled back by this time. He’s very tanned from being outside all summer and he’s completely stopped coughing. He’s still wearing plain clothes, and just a dagger. Also (It warms my heart to say this) he looks noticeably less miserable and suspicious. He doesn’t look as haunted and his sense of humor has (thankfully) developed XD
It’s going to be much, much easier to write him now he isn’t just miserable XD
Aydin
Yila completely snapped. She was screaming and crying after she’d thrown that knife at the man in the corner. On one hand, I wanted to help but then again, she hated me. I was going to make this worse, and I really didn’t want to. I trusted Niarok to take care of it.
On the other hand– Oh wait, I couldn’t use that one. I barely smothered a smile at my own internal joke.
Liorah shot me an annoyed look and I grinned at her. That seemed to annoy her even more, which was exactly what I’d been going for.
The large, red eye of the dragon opened. His scales were as tight as chainmail, and his tail was as thick as a tree. My smile faded and I reached for a sword, only to realize I didn’t have one. Of course I didn’t.
The dragon rose, like a mountain shifting and rising. Its scales rippled like boulders rolling off the mountainside.
“WHO HAS AWOKEN ME?” The dragon roared.
I snickered, somewhat hysterically. Of course it could talk.
My first, somewhat unfortunate but decidedly amusing, thought was that Juni, one of Faye’s older sisters, would have killed to be in my place. She would have died instantaneously but she would have loved every second.
Liorah ripped her shamshir out of its scabbard, her sling still dangling from her hand.
She glanced from the sliver of metal, which seemed pathetic against the dragon to her sling, whose bullets were just as ineffectual but further away. That was enough to convince her.
She thrust the sword at me.
“Here. Stab with the pointy end, cut with the slicey part.”
I didn’t take the sword.
“You might have forgotten a minor detail.”
“I didn’t.”
“I haven’t become lefthanded overnight.”
She shot me a glare that told me now wasn’t the time to argue but I glared back. I wasn’t going to let her send me into danger without making sure she knew this was all her fault.
“You’ve practiced offhand, haven’t you?” she said, exhasperated.
“Not much! Just enough to surprise an opponent once or twice, not to fight that.”
“I’m not expecting you to kill it, I just want you to have a fighting chance.”
“I don’t know how this weapon works,” I said, gesturing helplessly at the strong arch. It was completely different from the swords I’d used.
Liorah sighed then gave in and gave me an explanation.
“Follow through well, the arch does the cutting for you, it functions instead of the exaggerated front balance of your weapons. Just watch your edge alignment, don’t count on thrusting but if you need to you can.”
I hesitantly took the weapon, just as the dragon roared again.
“THIS IS THE ONE,”
It was looking directly at Yila. Niarok shifted inbetween her and the dragon.
The dragon leapt forward, spraying sparks from its mouth. I staggered backward, the smell of heat overwhelming me. Well, that was both unfortunate and unexpected.
I knew I wouldn’t be of much use in a fight. Liorah hurled bullets at the creature, aiming for its softer scales, the head, the eyes. She didn’t seem to be doing much good but she was hellbent and furious which had to count for something.
I just kept beside Niarok and tried to help whenever he slipped up.
Finally, Niarok’s sword plunged through the armor and it collapsed, writhing, with a final scream that sent a belch of fire across the floor. I stood aside and grinned. We’d defeated it.
Only then I realized Niarok was holding on to something dark and mangled as though he could never let it go. He seemed to have collapsed, completely surrounded by purest agony.
The small, dark shape had once been Yila. Something sank deep in me, ruining something that felt like it had just been recovering. I felt sick.
I hadn’t even noticed she was there. I hadn’t gotten in the dragon’s way, I hadn’t defended her.
Tears rose to my eyes but I blinked them away. I had to help. I let the sword drop and knelt next to Niarok.
“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I said, my voice lost in my own heartbeat. I should have stopped it, I should have solved something. I should have done better, I should have been better.
I reached for Yila’s wrist, wincing as I felt the burns. I searched for a heartbeat, even the faintest flicker, but nothing was left.
Niarok hadn’t moved, he was hugging his sister’s still form as though he could bring her back to life with nothing but desperate, wasted love.
There was just too little motion. My heartbeat sped up even more, as panic seemed to block out life itself. I let out a deep breath, forcing myself to focus. I checked Niarok’s pulse. It was there, but his breaths were quick and harsh. He might be unconcious from shock.
I hesitated, then placed my hand on his shoulder. I winced but forced myself not to pull back. It was the right thing to do, I could endure a litle discomfort if it would help Niarok.
“I know how hard you tried,” I said, quietly. “This wasn’t your fault.”
It felt like someone else was speaking through me, like Riakon or even Niarok himself was echoing back through me. Niarok had spent his whole life giving so much kindness that it was inevitable that it would come back to him.
Niarok didn’t respond. I couldn’t see his face, but I didn’t need to. I probably couldn’t have handled it.
Two distant voices echoed a prayer through years. I let out a breath and listened to the hallucination. That had been my fault as well, but it was past. I could only try to fix the consequences. I picked up my sword and stood between Niarok and the next dragon appearing from the corner. I would die before letting anything happen to them.
From the corner of my eye, I saw someone streaking across the room, too fast, too smoothly. My muscles tensed until I recogized one of the earlier members of the castle. The whiny one who had commented on my earlier coughing. Basil, wasn’t it?
He ran over to one of the chained people and started undoing the chains of one of the men.
I saw him reach up and ruffle Basil’s hair. A shiver bolted up my spine. Something about the motion didn’t look like affection. I’d seen a lot of familial affection in the past few months, and that wasn’t it.
It looked completely… wrong. It reminded me of my father, the way he used to reach out and place his hand on my shoulder. I was going to avoid that man like the plague.
Without darkness, there is no light. If there was no nighttime, would the stars be as bright?
WHY DID YOU HAVE TO MAKE IT WORSE?????? I’M ALREADY GRIEVING HOW DARE YOU MAKE ME EVEN MORE SADDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Also… sorry. No Qatar treatment… Yila’s gone…
…
*Denali Christianson last seen 2:01 PM
"The darkness is seldom complete, and even when it is, the pinprick of light is not long in coming."
Vitus Corvo:
6’5” of bone and sinew, purest blood and sharpest instinct.
200 pounds of raw nerve and muscle, carefully curated for a single purpose – to kill and destroy, and perhaps in due time, to be destroyed by one stronger than he.
I don’t suppose he will ever know how much I sacrificed to save him from that fate, but it’s enough for me knowing that he’s safe…
I smile up at the boy, careful to avoid his shadowy gaze. I recoil as it his fingers brush against my arm, hands tangled in the chains. I don’t believe that Basil would willfully hurt me, but he is a work in progress after all – an experiment of sorts, as some less educated might claim. Experiments can go quite wrong – in fact, they often do.
The pressure around my wrists crumples into a choking grip. “Basil.”
“Sorry.” His voice is whispered, soft like his anxious gaze. A mirthless smile tugs at the corners of my lips. Basil didn’t willfully hurt me, but he very nearly did nonetheless. I suppose he means well, but I refuse to forget that he’s still very dangerous – even more so without the physical constraints of the compound.
The pressure on my arms suddenly releases, as the chains crumple on the marble. How in the world did he get those loose? He’s crouching in front of me now, eyes piercing my gaze. I smile warmly. “Good Basil.” The chains slide off my uplifted hand as I gently reach for his head. His hair is a little bit greasy, and his hair hasn’t been brushed for days. My lips press in a thin smile as I rake my fingers through that nest of limp curls. I’m afraid this isn’t the nicest head pat, but I don’t want to touch him any more than I have to. Poor thing. I’m sure he must be utterly ashamed to be seen in this sorry state.
He whips around, startled at some sudden noise. I snatch back my hand, firmly brushing my gloved fingers against the rough fabric of my trousers. He’s somehow dirtied the 500 mark sweater I bought him last month, although I suppose that’s to be expected in a place like this. A shame, really. That thing was pristine when I last saw it.
“Come on, Basil.” I push myself up, letting the last of the chains slither to the floor.
“Dr. Corvo, do you have food?” I whip around to see Basil towering over me, smoky eyes burning through me. I wish he weren’t so quiet. I would have liked to have some warning before seeing that.
“I’m afraid not,” I sigh. “I’m sorry, Basil. I’m sure you must be quite hungry by now.” His head bobs up and down. Yes. Something crumples in his giant frame, and I can see his eyes start narrowing, like he does when it’s about to whine. I sigh. I don’t particularly want to hear it, especially given that there’s nothing I can do about the situation.
I turn around to see Saskia standing a few yards away, glowering up at me. Ahhh of course. Basil’s little shadow.
My lips curl in return.
Pitiful, really. It must be exhausting chasing after a boy who can never truly love you back.
“Come on, Basil.” I press my lips, waiting for an answer. “Basil.” Nothing. I turn around to see Basil standing right where I last saw him, staring at the floor. His eyes are narrowed almost to slits now, dully sparkling behind rows of locked lashes. He slowly lifts his gaze, eyes soft and wet, and for a split second I see the faintest glimmer of dew matted in his lashes.
*laughs as one fey*
WHY DID YOU HAVE TO MAKE IT WORSE?????? I’M ALREADY GRIEVING HOW DARE YOU MAKE ME EVEN MORE SADDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Also… sorry. No Qatar treatment… Yila’s gone…
I’M SORRYYYYY!!!!! I COULDN’T HELP IT!!!!!!!!
*Sobs in distance*
Tell me if you ever need someone to punch Dr Corvo. I volunteer 😀
Also how d a r e you make Basil sad??! 😭😭😭
Without darkness, there is no light. If there was no nighttime, would the stars be as bright?
Quin/Qatar
With a roar the dragon woke, demanding who had disturbed it. Quin shrank from the heat, a flashback pushing at the back of his brain.
“Qatar,” he spoke through a fog. “Do you have a–knife? Anything?”
His brother looked down at him, the small knife the Castle had given them in his hand. “It won’t do much against that.” he nodded at the dragon. Niarok was already dangerously close, an arrow fitted to the string. With a hiss, like mist against a raging fire, it struck the dragon’s soft place. The great beast recoiled and fell, lashing it’s great tail within feet of where the prisoners sat.
With it’s dying gasp of hatred, a ball of fire flared out, rushing past Niarok and engulfing something behind him.
…Yila!
Quin froze. No.
The beast was still, but Niarok staggered toward his prone sister. with something across between a sob and a moan he collapsed on his knees, taking her in his arms.
As the smell of burnt hair and scorched flesh reached Quin, he knew it was too late. The skill of a doctor and the love of a brother could do nothing.
Why? After everything else these two assassins had suffered, why?
Quin glanced up at Locran. the next instant he wished he hadn’t. He was standing with his weapon held loosely between his fingers, staring with an ashen face at Yila. He’d lost one like her, who knew how long ago. Now it was Yila. Tears stung at the back of his eyes.
Niarok was lying beside his sister, almost on top of her, too burned himself to stay conscious. Aydin was bending over them.
Locran…Locran just stood. It felt like hours, but it was actually only a second. The look in his eyes brought every agonizing day of pain and regret back to Quin. Every second of horror.
The look of pain in Locran’s eyes made the flashback win out, and Quin bent almost double, breathing hard. The smell…Oh, the acrid, horrid smell. The ghost pain was worse than normal, aching, burning with the smell of another life lost at the edge of a fire.
He clutched at something, anything solid. Qatar’s arm was there, steadying him.
“You okay, Quin?” [hold. it. FOLKS, DO YOU REALIZE HE NEVER USED TO USE HIS BROTHER’S NAME? Ahhh!]
Quin shook his head and gestured toward the little miserable group, which Locran had joined.
“Ghost pain again?”
Quin looked up, the flashback breaking in his surprise. “How’d–” Qatar had never mentioned it before.
“It’s always been there, hasn’t it?”
Quin nodded, and Qatar’s face set hard. “And I was too much of a fool to notice!”
He looked away. When he looked back his face was normal again. “Come on. That devil Fedor will be wanting us to release him.”
They started across the pile of rubble that was the dragon’s gold. The uneven ground was hard to walk on, and more than once Quin stumbled, but Qatar’s arm was always there, waiting for him if he needed it.
Fedor’s arm was burned from the slashing of the great brute’s tail, and he scowled up at them as they came.
“Hurry up, Hobble-Horse. Get me out of this.”
The chains that bound his wrists and neck were of Colondite design. Easy to work if you were free, but impossible if you were in them. Qatar shook his head. He’d never seen them before.
Quin knelt down and unfastened first one, then the others. As soon as Fedor was free he jumped up, enraged at the indignity of it all.
“You.” he spat at Quin and stepped toward him, but Qatar had already stepped in his way.
He gestured at Quin. “If you ever touch my brother again, I’ll incinerate you.” He gripped Fedor’s collar with one hand as he cowered away, and landed the other fist in his face.
Fedor reeled back and stumbled over a pile of gold. The other captives watched with interest. Qatar steadied him. “That was for me. This next one is Quin’s, because he’s too softhearted to give it to you himself.” Another punch sent the Colondite sprawling.
Qatar turned back to Quin. “That’s been a long time in coming.”
“Come on,” Quin answered. “Let’s go see Niarok.”
@irishcelticredflowercrown @denali-christianson (I didn’t really use your characters, but whatever.)Quoth the raven, "Nevermore!"
https://silverpenstrokes.wordpress.comI’M SORRYYYYY!!!!! I COULDN’T HELP IT!!!!!!!!
*Sobs in distance*
*Joins you in sobbing*
I will post later. I have to do school and grieve Yila… :'(
"The darkness is seldom complete, and even when it is, the pinprick of light is not long in coming."
Oh goodness, you’re also conspiring to break my heart 😭😭 I love how Qatar is finally starting to act like a good big brother! I’m so proud of both of them!
I’m asking you all to forgive me in advance 😭
Chantara
He was here. I’d known he’d be here, but it still startled me.
My aquamarine gaze followed him as he crossed the heaps of what looked like tarnished gold. He didn’t look armed.
I should have been feeling a lot more than I was, but that was hardly an unfamiliar sensation.
He didn’t come directly at me, that was like him. A faint smile touched my lips. Always circling around, avoiding, deflecting. He really hadn’t changed at all.
The smile faded. Yes, he had. He’d never be the boy I loved again. He was a traitor, and he’d always been a coward. I should have known. Perhaps I had.
As soon as he was within reach, I flung myself at him, not in an attack but in an embrace.
I flung my arms around his neck, as though I could bring him back to me with that alone. The chains rattled and jerked me back, but I didn’t let that stop me.
I felt him flinching, trying to recoil then finally giving up. Of course, I’d almost forgotten. He hated being touched now, and I knew why. In an easy, artless motion that looked like affection to everyone else, I let my hand slip down to his shoulder, then his back, trailing along the paths already drawn out for me. This time I really felt him shrink away.
I didn’t smile, but warmth spread through me. My head was still buried in his shoulder. Somehow, for no logical reason, I expected him to smell like fire and ash. He never had before, but perhaps I’d expected our ruined relationship to have taken tangible form.
It hadn’t. He smelled like fields, like the outside. That wasn’t like him at all. I was so used to the smell of poison lingering around him, to the sharpness of chemicals drawn into his clothes.
He hadn’t tried to attack me yet. Of course he hadn’t. Aydin didn’t attack. He recoiled. Flinched. Dodged. He always had before.
It would have been so much easier to kick him in the shins, but this was ever so much more satisfying. It was neither logical nor straightforward, but that was my one failing. I’d always made up for it.
I considered trying to kiss him, just because I could, but then decided that I would rather die than do that again. I would stoop low but not that low.
I pulled away, slowly, regretfully. My hand flicked past his right side, checking for a dagger. I’d already seen he didn’t wear a sword. There was none, which made me internally curse myself. I needed a weapon and I didn’t want him to have one, but I was sure he did. He was horribly suspicious, as all cowards were.
“I missed you–” I whispered.
I did. I missed him like a knife missed its target. I wished my hatred had left as deep a cut on him as it had on me.
He didn’t look at me, avoiding my gaze like a kicked dog. I shifted so I was back in his line of view. The message was obvious.
His eyes caught mine, just for an instant. Muddy was the only descriptor I could stick to them now. There was a time when I had a hundred others.
He fumbled at the chains, doing it with his left hand for some reason. He was righthanded, wasn’t he? I couldn’t believe I didn’t remember.
I leaned back against the wall and let him do it, surveying him meanwhile. His hair had grown out in thick curls. I’d never even known his hair was curly, it had always been so short. It didn’t suit him. He had a much darker tan than he’d ever had while I had known him, and the hand that unfastened my chains was calloused from work, not a sword.
I’d never thought he could do a day’s work in his life. He’d grown up in plenty, unlike me. He’d never had to work.
I smiled and quirked an eyebrow.
“Well, didn’t you miss me?” I asked, playfully.
I expected him not to answer, expected him to venture a hesitant affirmative, filled with bittersweet falseness.
Instead, he shot me a glance, sharper than I’d expected.
“No.”
My smile didn’t fade. It grew broader.
“Then you should have just left me to die, shouldn’t you?”
He sighed, then answered,
“I’m not like you.”
“I know you’re not,” I answered, disdain tinting my words.
I’m not a coward and a traitor.
We both understood the words, though neither of us had spoken them.
“You’ve changed,” I said, lightly.
“That’s what you said last time,” he replied, tossing aside the first chain. I instantly checked whether I had weapons. The castle had taken them, unfortunately. No matter. I didn’t need them.
His voice was harsher than it ever had been to me. Odd.
“You’ve always been yourself,” he continued, his voice quiter now. “I should have seen it before.”
“Was I?”
If I aimed well I could knee him in the face but it wouldn’t hurt enough. I needed to dig deeper than that.
“You haven’t changed, not at your core,” I said, reassuringly. I saw him flinch and kept going. I’d hit a sore spot and I wasn’t letting go.
“You’re still the same boy who threw that first knife and got sick for a week afterward,” I said, in the same tone I would have used to recall a happy childhood memory.
He froze, just long enough that I saw how much that had hurt.
“Do you still cry after assignments?” he asked, so quietly I could barely hear it.
I grinned.
“That passed after you betrayed me,” I whispered back, my voice sweet as honey.
“Thought it would,” he said, without stopping this time. He’d always been selfish that way, like he was the only person in the world who mattered.
I would find some way to make him feel what I felt. Apprarently, he still didn’t understand.
______
I’m out of time, so tear your hearts out over that in the meantime 😀 Oh gosh I h a t e her.
Without darkness, there is no light. If there was no nighttime, would the stars be as bright?
WHYYYYYYYY THIS IS AWFUL TIMING AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHH I’M GOING TO M U R D E R H E R R I G H T N O W
Why are you hurting my sweet cinnamon roll? ROSE!!!!! Aydin’s been through so much already WHYYYYYYYY
*pointedly ignores the fact that I just murdered my character*
"The darkness is seldom complete, and even when it is, the pinprick of light is not long in coming."
@rose-colored-fancy I think I’ll skip the heart-tearing and just punch her. That would be far more to the point and satisfying. Of course she’d just grin, but I’d be out of the castle by that time, so I wouldn’t see. I’m soooo loving who Aydin has become, PLEASE keep developing him into this man!!! I know that one day he won’t even care and that will drive her crazy. AND IT WILL BE WONDERFUL!
IK, I’m gonna so love writing Qatar. He never gets to punch Fedor in the story, but he does get to hit somebody else, so that will be a leetle satisfying. 😀
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore!"
https://silverpenstrokes.wordpress.com😱
*nods reluctantly*
Yeah…
She did…
She may or may not have traumatically burned to death at the hands of an evil dragon…
😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
"The darkness is seldom complete, and even when it is, the pinprick of light is not long in coming."
I have no clue what to make Rúan do …
BUT DENALI WHYYYY 😭
Anxious gremlin coming through
WHYYYYYYYY THIS IS AWFUL TIMING AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHH I’M GOING TO M U R D E R H E R R I G H T N O W
Why are you hurting my sweet cinnamon roll? ROSE!!!!! Aydin’s been through so much already WHYYYYYYYY
*pointedly ignores the fact that I just murdered my character*
*Evil laughter*
REVENGE IS MINEEEE!!!!! Don’t worry though, Aydin will be fine. He’s not gonna like it but it’s for Character Development (TM) XD
Wait till you read the part from his POV…. 😈
I think I’ll skip the heart-tearing and just punch her. That would be far more to the point and satisfying. Of course she’d just grin, but I’d be out of the castle by that time, so I wouldn’t see.
Ha, Liorah might just do it for you XD Ohhh, she’s S O punchable XD
I’m soooo loving who Aydin has become, PLEASE keep developing him into this man!!! I know that one day he won’t even care and that will drive her crazy. AND IT WILL BE WONDERFUL!
I KNOW RIGHT!!!! I’m so proud of him 😭 This is just the beginning but I’m still so happy with how it’s going!
IK, I’m gonna so love writing Qatar. He never gets to punch Fedor in the story, but he does get to hit somebody else, so that will be a leetle satisfying.
Ohhh, it will!!! It’s quite delightful XD
Okay WHAAATTTTT?!!!!!
Did Yila just die??? Please clarify
We’re all just exacting horrible angsty revenge on each other XD It’s great XD
Without darkness, there is no light. If there was no nighttime, would the stars be as bright?
Okay I’m gonna post this here too! I’m starting a monthly newsletter that’s going to include… writing stuff, writing updates, and some snippets from my projects!
Here’s the link for anyone interested!
https://swordandscrawls.ck.page/
@anyone else!
Without darkness, there is no light. If there was no nighttime, would the stars be as bright?
Okay time for some d r a m a XD
Aydin
I didn’t want Chantara anywhere near me, but this was the only way to loosen the chains.
I couldn’t quite look at her. I couldn’t forget the last time I’d seen her, and I knew she remembered too. I could tell by the way she hadn’t let go when she felt me flinch.
She knew exactly how much I hated being touched, but she’d never really seemed to care. It was like her.
I knew what it meant when her hand flicked down my back. I remember. You’ll pay for this.
I would never stop paying for it.
I unfastened the last shackle. Chantara had a few new scars flecking her forearms. She had kept busy, and the thought made my stomach twist.
Had anything really changed? Was I really any different than I ever had been?
Chantara stretched her wrists, sore from the cramped position. She grinned at me, like a wolf baring its teeth. She was out to rip me to shreds and there was little I could do about it.
Her gaze flicked over me again, sharp, calculating, searching for weak places. I had enough, and she would find them.
She did. I’d been keeping my hand behind my back but she’d noticed that my dagger was on the left, and the way I had used only my left hand so far.
Quick as a striking snake, she grabbed my forearm, forcing me to show it. I flinched and tried to pull away but her grip was ridiculously strong.
The memory of how Faye had glanced at me, asking for permission before she so much as touched it, no matter how curious she’d been. Faye’s Healer interests showed up strong in any case that involved injuries.
Chantara glanced over the scar, then back up at me.
“You can’t use it, can you?” There was a horrible, vengeful satisfaction in the question.
I twisted free of her grasp and took a step backward. For the first time in years, I was angry, and more than that, angry at her. How dare she?
“So?” I challenged.
She shook her head and shrugged, sweetly.
“Oh, I was just curious. It isn’t like it makes you more useless.”
I bit my tongue. Lashing out had never done me good, it had only gotten me in deeper trouble. It wasn’t worth it.
Liorah had never learned that lesson. She didn’t even say hello, just pushed me aside and punched Chantara straight on the jaw.
Chantara had seen it coming, of course. She always did. She deflected Liorah’s blow, but Liorah was furious and also stupid. She stumbled forward, then slammed into Chantara, knocking her into the ground.
Chantara grinned. Her lip had split, but she barely minded the blood. She never had.
Liorah stood panting, fists balled in rage, every muscle taut with retribution. It took less than this to make her furious.
“Pleased to see you too, princess,” Chantara hissed.
She was on her feet before I could pull away. Her shoulder slammed into my side, and as I stumbled backward, I felt her snatch up my knife. Oh, no.
Liorah saw it and drew hers. This was not going to end well.
_____________________
@calidris Go forth and let the brats interrupt XDWithout darkness, there is no light. If there was no nighttime, would the stars be as bright?
- The forum ‘Private: Fantasy Writers’ is closed to new topics and replies.
