moved

Are you here for art, or because you want to be apart of our little family?

I'm a regular	10.0%	[ 51 ]
I want to be a regular	29.7%	[ 151 ]
I just want your art	31.6%	[ 161 ]
I love you Sarah!!!	28.7%	[ 146 ]
Total Votes:			[ 509 ]

[Oblat]

Contest entry incoming soon! >D

[starlight_of_ur_heart]

[url=http://i118.photobucket.com/albums/o117/starlight_of_ur_heart/Scan_Pic0102copy.jpg][IMG]http://i118.photobucket.com/albums/o117/starlight_of_ur_heart/Scan_Pic0102copy-1.jpg[/IMG][/url]

[url=http://i118.photobucket.com/albums/o117/starlight_of_ur_heart/Scan_Pic0103.jpg][IMG]http://i118.photobucket.com/albums/o117/starlight_of_ur_heart/Scan_Pic0103-1.jpg[/IMG][/url]

[url=http://i118.photobucket.com/albums/o117/starlight_of_ur_heart/Scan_Pic0104.jpg][IMG]http://i118.photobucket.com/albums/o117/starlight_of_ur_heart/Scan_Pic0104-1.jpg[/IMG][/url]

[url=http://i118.photobucket.com/albums/o117/starlight_of_ur_heart/Scan_Pic0098.jpg][IMG]http://i118.photobucket.com/albums/o117/starlight_of_ur_heart/Scan_Pic0098-1.jpg[/IMG][/url]

[iiGlomp]

@Star: Bwhahaha YESS! You my friend are a BAMF ;D~
@Sarah: Knowing Glompii bear? Tis be a compliment, yes? =0

[starlight_of_ur_heart]

iiglomp: hehe why thank you XD and sorry its kinda odd... was experimenting with a new kinda super chibi

[Lorraine Claire]

{ ☆ } xxxxxx ｏＣｕｄｏｓ ;;

{ ♥ ou o

[Oblat]

Sarah3ddepp

|| HALLOWEEN TEKTEK AND SHORT STORY CONTEST ENTRIES


Resting her staff across the top of a wide edge bookshelf her body pressed against the dark lacquered wood. Curator Percival stares down over the edge watching a figure underfoot creeping slowly through the empty library. Moana with golden mask in place, hair combed to perfection and clad in blue garb had arrived within the library an hour past. She had come and had found the sanctuary empty of its curator. Percival all the while lingered high above in the shadowy places hopping from one shelf to another in pursuit of her guest.

She felt like one of the black witches she’d read of, and had oft heard travelers speak fondly of within recent weeks. She smiled at the thought of being a dark spell caster using the shadowy places as her hidden sanctuary, and gripped her staff close before pushing herself to her knees.

“Above,” Percival calls with a smile across her red lips, tiny fingers wiggling in a wave down at her friend. Who startles with a jump, spine ridged and stance equally as straight and unmoving.

“What are you doing up there?” Moana snaps, though the gold lips of her mask never move. “For the love of Mut Lucana, I’ve been looking for you for the past hour. `ave you been up there slinking about this whole time?” She bites angrily her mask hiding her face.

Percival smiles, a sweet knowing smile, and says nothing. As she stands with the aid of her staff and jumps unfazed to the floor below.

Bristling at the lack of response, Moana turns on her heels to face the libraries curator. A stream of angry threats on her tongue that fall deafly from her mouth as her eyes take in the sight of her friend, Percival, dressed like some steampunk whore from Waters Town.

“Percival, what are you wearing?” Moana blurts, and though the clothing is nothing out of the ordinary. Dark brown doublet over a lighter brown corset, matching layered skirt with a decretive lace fabric tied to her waist and legs covered in light brown stockings. It is clothing none the less. Something the curator has never worn, not since Moana has known her.

Smiling even wider Percival tip-toes forward her clock staff ticking loudly in the silence. “I’m dressed up,” she explains, as if it is obvious—and it is.

“I can see that, I’m no oaf, but why are you dressed up?” Moana asks knowing the curator would gladly go without further explanation.

“It is All Hallows Eve. So some travelers say. I’m dressed like a witch!” Percival spins on her toes, her skirt flaring around her tiny waist. “I read about one in a book I found. After I spoke with one fellow about this Hallows Eve, he and his friend seemed so fond of.”

Moana brushes a hand against the back of her neck as Percival tells her tale. Though, none of it makes much sense to the pirate. “So you dressed up because it is what, All Hallows Eve. What is this Hallows Eve?”

Percival shrugs then. “The traveler says it is a celebration of the dead, mentioned something about home, and that people dress up in costumes. Not sure why, but I liked the idea.”

“So you dressed up as a witch,” Moana sighs, inspecting her friend more closely. “Do you even know what a witch looks like?”

“Like this of course!” Percival sounds exasperated as she fans her hands out to either side as if to emphasize her dress.

“Then your book was wrong,” Moana says quickly, “you look like a whore to me.” She adds with a smile behind her mask and a hand on her hip. “I’ve seen witches before and you look nothing like those haggard crones.”

Percival feels chastised and her face crinkles into an unhappy frown and her tiny pointed ears atop her head droop. “I’m no whore,” she says with eyes turned down to the floor. “Besides, you haven’t seen all the witches in all of Mut Lucana I could look like one yet still.”

Moana watches curiously as Percival’s frown reaches her eyes, and thinks she should feel bad for making the curator so unhappy. But the guilty tug never reaches past her stomach and instead she step away from her friend leaving Percival to trail behind her. This is punishment for making her search and wait.

“I need a scroll,” Moana says as she moves down the aisle.

Percival bites at her lower lip and without much thought, takes up stride behind the pirate. It is her job after all, curator of the library, and she is meant to help those that ask for it even if they’re pirates, who say hurtful things and call her a whore and says her costume looks nothing like the witches she’s seen.

“What scroll are you looking for?” Percival says and crosses her arms as best she can with her clock staff weighing heavy in her left hand.

“One about sailing on water and in the air,” Moana chances a glance behind her—and thinks once more how bad she should feel for making Percival look so tiny and hurt—and a pang hits her stomach making her turn her head forward and round the edge of a shelf to stand down a long open aisle. “Where can I find one?”

Percival stops in between the shelves of the aisle they had just come down, thinks to herself as Moana stares sideways at her—she knows the pirate is, even if she is wearing a mask—and then floats up. It is an ability that even Moana envies at times and is more than useful for the curator. Managing so many hundreds of thousands of books on shelves towered high above her short little head.

Flitting above Moana follows Percival as she moves down the main asile, up a narrower one littered with unmarked and marked scrolls alike, till she finds one particular asile with no exit at its end and pulls from the top most nook a grey-brown parchment tied with an old string and bells.

“This is what you need,” Percival says as she sets down against the reading edge of the shelf, where a reader may place an open book, and hands the rolled paper to Moana.

Taking the paper Moana is quick to snatch Percival’s hand in hers. A move that startles the mirthless curator and makes Percival’s breathe hitch with protest.

“Let go,” she peeps, no louder than is necessary for Moana to hear.

“Come now,” Moana leans forward and tilts her head to look Percival in the face. “You’re mad at me aren’t you?”

Percival presses her lips into a tight line and tugs at her hand. “No, I’m not mad.” She says dejectedly, and it is truth she isn’t mad she is hurt there was a difference, not that she was about to explain that to her oaf of a friend.

Moana shakes her head then and releases Percival’s hand. “Fine, not mad,” She repeats in a voice that sounds like smiles. It is enough to make Percival blink her eyes tight once, twice and turn her back.

“Hurry up and finish reading your scroll,” she peeps again and Moana feels the pang from before, but does nothing beside find an empty place one the ground to begin reading. Which doesn’t seem to please Percival anymore as she begins to float out of reach and soon out of sight, and Moana says nothing to this either.

‘She is a big oaf,’ Percival begins to think to herself as she floats up in the dark above where Moana sits and reads. ‘I’m no whore either, and how would she know what a whore dresses like anyway?’ Percival looks down at herself then, sees how short her skirt is, how thin her stockings are—you could see right through them to her nakedness beneath—and her hands brush over the tight corset at her waist and over the tiny white frills that cover her breast, just barely. A disgusted feeling washes over her then, she is dressed like a steampunk whore she’s no witch like she thought. Her costume was all wrong now that she thought about it; maybe she should have kept with the black like her book had read. Maybe she should have made a hat too, and wore boots.

Brushing a hand over her eyes Percival reaches up and unclasps the doublet from her chest, loosens the strings of her corset, and removes her skirt, decretive lace and leggings all in one tug. Placing all the pieces of her costume on the top of the shelf she hovers by, before quietly floating back down to Moana.

Glancing from the text Moana feels her friend presence and sees the curator as she was used to seeing her. Dressed in nothing but her body, with her long brown and orange gem wings hanging form her back and ears atop her head still drooping sadly. Moana feels the pang again, sharper this time right in the middle of her gut, and bites at her lip under her mask her face no longer smiling like it had been.

“Percival, where is your costume?” It is the first thing Moana thinks to say and wants to hit herself then, she knows exactly where her friends costume is—discarded someplace in the library.

“You done reading already, you usually take so much longer. Slow reader you are.” Percival replies bitterly but doesn’t look at Moana.

Moana feels the pang hard now and pushes from her seat on the floor, standing tall to reach for her friend who looks so tiny, even tinier now than before, but her hands fall short of reaching Percival who hovers just out of reach. The movement at least makes Percival look down, but what she eyes startles her into looking away. Moana stands with a hand outreaching, finger tips smidges away from her and Percival all but flees.

“I’m sorry Percival,” Moana says and she sounds like she means it. “You didn’t look like a steampunk whore,” she begins to say, but she doesn’t sound convincing, even though the words still sound as sorry as her guilty admission.

“Yes I did, I looked just like one of them ladies you like to knoodle in Waters Town,” Percival looks down again at Moana, watches her friends hand lower, and her face turn upwards.

“You know I don’t do that,” Moana says in kind her voice no longer sorry sounding, but angry instead, and though her mask hides her face Percival can tell that her barb-like comment hit its mark. Sadly, not in the way intended.

“How else would you know what a steampunk whore dresses like?” Percival asks then and turns in the air to better look down at Moana.

“I pass through that town all the time. The whores line the streets of main with their legs stretched out from their short little ruffled skirts, making the men hoot and holler and flick change at `em for a peek.” Moana rests her left hand on her lip and stands her ground.

“Well . . .” Percival hoovers, but pulls her legs to her chest none the less and sticks her nose between her knees to hide her face from view. “I’m still no whore,” she says with a muffled voice.

Moana takes a breath then and lowers head head to stare at the ground for a long moment, raising it only to follow it with an outreached hand. “You come here,” she commands, in her pirate voice, “come here now.”

Percival grips her clock staff tightly then and shakes her head. “No,” she says defiantly.

“No,” Moana repeats sternly and the fingers of her outreached hand snap at her. “I’m not asking you again, you get down here or I am leaving this library. I’ll find my notes about sailing elsewhere if I must.”

It’s enough to make Percival hover a little lower, but she refuses to place her bare feet to the floor.

“There,” she says and turns so her side is to her friend.

Moana takes what she is given, within reach is better than hanging high above her head, and pulls the tiny curator into a hug. So unexpected is the action that Percival is caught off guard. Her grip is lost on her staff, it clatters to the ground. The clock resting within its protective case skips a beat with the impact, matching the beats of its owner’s frightened heart.

“I never said you were a whore,” Moana says against Percival’s ear—the one hidden under her multi colored brown hair.

“You did so,” Percival turns her head into Moana. “You said I looked like a whore.”

“Looked,” Moana repeats quickly. “Not that you were one.”

“What is the difference? Looked like, is one. It does not matter any longer I look like the curator now.”

Moana can hear the dejection and defeat in Percival’s words, and kicks herself mentally for playing this game. Punishment or no this wasn’t fair to Percival. She didn’t deserve her new found joy being trampled on by some pissed of pirate, least of all one who was supposed to be her friend. Taking a deep breath Moana sunk to the floor, Percival still in her arms, and sits down beside the dropped staff.

“The difference is,” Moana says as she settles Percival in her lap, her arms around her friends waist, her other hand reaching for the staff on the floor. “That you were neither to begin with, you were a witch all along.” Moana lifts the staff from the floor and hands it to Percival, who takes the ticking contraption with delicate care inspecting it slowly. “You were a time witch, from a era unknown, and stupid me from this time couldn’t tell the difference between the brown of whores clothes and the sun kissed gold of a time witch’s dress.”

Percival wants to be upset, wants to sit there and stare at the end of the aisle without its exit to the wall. She wants to want to float up into the dark spaces again, but she cannot feel the feeling anymore. Instead her cheeks warm, and as she finishes inspecting her staff’s clock she lets her free hand brush against the arm around her waist. She even leans back against the weight at her back.

Moana presses her masked face, cold and hard, against Percival’s naked back. “Forgive me?”

Percival nods, says nothing, and reaches for the forgotten scroll on the ground. Unraveling it Percival reads starting at the first sentence of the second paragraph. Moana smiles behind her mask, not bothering to mention she’s read the paragraph already, and settled in to listen carefully to each word her friend reads.

Combo entry, if I may. I wrote the short story to explain the tektek, but noticed there is a short story contest too. So if I am allowed I would like to enter both, but still use the story as an explanation to the tektek at the same time as I use it as a short story entry! Only if I am allowed, otherwise I will gladly write a more technical explanation for the tektek.

This is Moana for anyone interested.

[Lorraine Claire]

Strude

{ ☆ } xxxxxx ｏＣｕｄｏｓ ;;

{ ♥ If I may be so bold to say; your entry is awesome emotion_kirakira

[Oblat]

oCudos

emotion_kirakira redface

You may and then turn my face six shades of red while you're at it. Thank you.

I hope Sarah will let me use it as both a tektek and story story entry. I wrote the story to explain the costume, then noticed there is a short story contest too. Not sure if I can enter both, or if I can use the "story explanation" as a short story entry too. Here is hoping, but then again I might have to actually go edit and reread the short story and check for mistakes. XD

Whatever. We'll see what Sarah says.

[Lorraine Claire]

Strude

{ ☆ } xxxxxx ｏＣｕｄｏｓ ;;

{ ♥ The story is very interesting, I wish it went on emotion_kirakira
The tektek is lovely as well, I like how you used brown; it can be a difficult color but also so casual and lovely you can't help but notice it heart

And if she doesn't accept it as a short story as well...then you can always write another awesome story? emotion_kirakira

[Oblat]

Side note, Moana is my current avatar, both are OOC of mine and part of some messed up story verse I have in my head that my little brother keeps telling me I should turn into an actual story. Instead of, you know, harbouring all the ideas in my brain as plot bunnies that never let out of their cage! >D

[Lorraine Claire]

{ ☆ } xxxxxx ｏＣｕｄｏｓ ;;

{ ♥ *flails*
I lost my muse!
*shot*

[Oblat]

oCudos

*Stops* s**t NO! *Goes searching for it* Come now lets find that muse of yours, it wont do to go without it!

[Oblat]

oCudos

Strude

{ ☆ } xxxxxx ｏＣｕｄｏｓ ;;

{ ♥ The story is very interesting, I wish it went on emotion_kirakira
The tektek is lovely as well, I like how you used brown; it can be a difficult color but also so casual and lovely you can't help but notice it heart

And if she doesn't accept it as a short story as well...then you can always write another awesome story? emotion_kirakira

Aww, I'm certain it would just become boring. I figure Percival would finish reading and Moana would leave the library like she always does and go on some grand quest to steal some notebooks. Then come back when she needs some new information, or some place to hide.

They might cuddle a little, kinda sort of, and yeah.

> w <

I guess I could always write another story. I'm fairly certain I could come up with several if I put my mind to it! XD

[Dilrax]

@Strude:
im not sure but there might be a small chance and i mean small, that your short story which seems long like could be to bit of a story... then again im not sure...
also welcome to the castle...^-^

[Dilrax]

@strude:
sarah does have on the first page under the short story info "Entries must be PG13 and at least 500 words, under 5,000 words" but it should be fine since your short story is 2511 words...


@Sarah: you have to change error! in the short story info you have "Entries muse be PG13 and at least 500 words, under 5,000 words" i think your ment to have "Must" not "Muse" i just noticed it now so...