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 Posted: Tue Nov 05, 2013 5:00 am
Ribbon oooooWhen Lithian was four years old and Ysette — his eldest sister and the oldest of his six siblings — was preparing to leave the Celestial Plane for the world below with intentions to remain for the longest she ever had, a year or more potentially, he’d sat at the edge of her bed. He’d dangled his feet over the lip and locked them at the ankles, folded his hands in his lap and watched her put together the last of her things. A year had seemed an impossible concept for him at that age. A lifetime. An eternity. His four-year-old self couldn’t remember a time when her guiding hands — her brilliant grin, quick humor, and fantastic stories — were out of reach. Now, eleven years old, Lithian sits with his boots off, pants gathered up to his knees, and toes in the water. His thumb brushes over a ribbon caught between his fingers, bright red that glistens to orange in the light of day — Ysette’s colors — and he closes his eyes, trying to remember the sound of her voice when she gave it to him. The way she looked, that young, so excited as she’d knelt before him at the foot of her bed and tugged the strip of thin silk from her hair, pushed it into his palm and closed his fingers around it. He can’t remember now what she’d said at the time. He can’t remember her face at that age, or the sound of her voice the way it was. All he remembers is the way her fingers felt, and how she’d smelt like the garden and a warm hearth. No one else ever admits to it, but to Lithian, Ysette always smells like smoke. Firani to her bones. Lithian weaves the ribbon between his fingers and curls his toes in the water, focussing on the ever gentle push-pull of the barely-there current — on the sound of the bird chatter and the wind between the leaves. Ysette is home. She came home to visit three days ago, but as often happens these days, her visits are a tense occasion. Mother and Father greet her warmly, though the concern in their eyes hurts to look at for too long, and Lithian — along with most of his other siblings — is always eager to hear her stories. Hear what it’s like to fight. To feel the heat of her fire ripple and bend under her fingertips as she tests her strength, rallies alongside a race who, in battle formation, can blot out the sky with their wings in great enough numbers. But Daraka, Lithian’s oldest brother… A muffled shout echoes out from the main body of his parents’ estate, brought to his ears by the wind, and Lithian tugs at his hair, shoulders bunched tight as a curt huff escapes his lips. Seconds later, he’s unfastening the sash at his waist, folding it neatly and putting it off to the side with his boots, and then shrugging out of his top as well. He tucks Ysette’s ribbon carefully amidst the rest of his things so that it won’t blow away before he wades out into the water. It’s a small stream, really — hardly deep enough to call a river, and the decorative bridge that his parents had built over it just a fraction farther upstream is really just that: decorative. Large enough stepping stones could have gotten the job done, but Lithian doesn’t mind. Where he is, the water licks along his skin to just above his waistline: tepid and ever-comfortable. When another snippet of harsh words reaches his ears, Lith shuts his eyes again, takes a full breath, and bends his knees, submerging himself entirely. Word Count: 628
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Posted: Tue Nov 05, 2013 2:27 pm
Oh, Brother Water, Lithian is convinced, is the perfect sanctuary. Beneath it, screaming becomes a muted hum, crying a whisper, and anger a memory. The world is lulled. Gentle. Peaceful. Every sound is tuned down to a distant, rolling murmur, and water’s embrace is absolute. It holds everything it encompasses entirely, wrapping around from every angle and rocking them to its beat. When he was very small and weak, his parents feared for his life — feared that sickness would take him away to Abronaxus before his fifth name day — and Lithian used to think, listening to their stories, that if he were to die, he would want to do it drowning. Held eternally safe in a river’s embrace. Like falling asleep and simply becoming one with the water. A shadow ripples over him and Lithian blinks upwards, letting a small string of bubbles climb up and break the surface as he does. One of his siblings — Syrikk, his second-oldest brother, five years his elder — is waiting at the bank, his image distorted by the water but clear enough to make out. Lithian lets the rest of his breath out in one mass of bubbles and stands, pushing his soaked hair out of his face as he does. Syrikk grins down at him. “Hey there, merboy. How’s the water?” Lithian shrugs, but when Syrikk nudges his head to motion Lith out of the water, he comes, tugging his hair to one side and wringing it as he does. “Why is it…” Syrikk begins to ask, squinting at him, “…that whenever I’m sent off to come find you, at least half the time you’re soaking wet? I could always, uh, you know…” Syrikk’s grin returns as he twitches his fingers, flicking his wrists and shifting his stance just the barest fraction to summon two swirling orbs of wind into his open palms. “Help you dry off.” Lithian eyes his brother warily, but shakes his head and turns away, ignoring him for the most part and reaching instead for his discarded clothes. “Last time you ‘helped’ me with that, I ended up covered in dirt and leaves. Besides…” He frowns at his otherwise dry clothes. Mother wouldn’t approve if he wrecked them by getting them all wet. He probably oughtn’t have climbed in even with his pants in the first place, but they weren’t his best ones — perhaps she wouldn’t be bothered. “Besides?” Syrikk prompts him, dragging him out of his distracted thoughts, and Lithian glances up. “Er, I was, um…” Lithian tucks his folded clothes under his arm, trying his best not to get them too wet and picks up his boots. “I like being wet, that’s all.” Syrikk chuckles. “And that’s what Asaria will be saying…” Lithian pauses. “What?” “Ah.” Syrikk clears his throat, as though re-thinking his words, and pats Lithian awkwardly on the shoulder. “Nothing. Nothing, just…you should actually pretend I didn’t say that and ignore it entirely.” Lithian’s eyebrows pinch together, inquisitive. “Why would Asaria be wet?” Syrikk’s cheeks darken to an impressive shade of deep, red-brown, and he shakes his head. “Don’t…say that. You’re too young to say that. We should—” “Is she even still talking to you?” Over the course of approximately two seconds, Syrikk’s entire expression shifts. “Of course she’s talking to me. Li-li, Asa loves me, she’s just…shy. Sometimes.” Syrikk frowns a bit, and Lith avoids mentioning that when the girl — Asaria, the subject of Syrikk’s doting affections since before Lithian could even begin to grasp the most basic concept of romance — is spoken of by anyone else, the general attitude seems to be that Sy is hopeless and she would rather escape than suffer his attentions. “Anyway,” Syrikk continues unawares, “I’m pretty sure she almost let me kiss her the other day. It was a close thing.” Lithian wrinkles his nose. “Gross.” Syrikk laughs aloud. “One day you’ll understand. Girls are amazing once you get over thinking they’re gross. You’ll see.” He nods his head to the clothes Lith’s carrying. “Put those down a second and step over here, come on.” Lith eyes his brother, rubbing his spare hand on one of his horns warily. “Come over for what?” Syrikk scoffs. “Tch, don’t you trust me little brother?” He winks, and when this doesn’t convince Lith, he huffs. “I’m going to dry you, relax — it won’t be like last time, I promise. You should look presentable, not like a…” He tilts his head, “…sopping wet silx.” “I don’t look like a silx…” But Lithian’s objection is half-hearted, and he puts his things down anyway as instructed, stepping away from them to give Syrikk room. “Close your eyes,” Sy instructs. As soon as Lith does so, a soft gust tickles up his skin, coiling like the brush of a thousand laughs against his skin. When it picks up, Lithian covers his eyes with his hands, snickering softly — and then laughing openly — as the gusts his brother summons dance around him. They pluck at his wet pants, skitter up his skin and tease his hair and horns. Then, “Ready?” Syrikk calls out over the rushing sound of constant air, and Lithian squeezes his eyes tighter shut, toes curling. “Ready for wha— ahh!” Lithian yelps out the latter half of his sentence as the pressure of the wind increases just enough to make his contact with the ground an uncertain thing, and for the first instant without earth beneath his feet, Lithian’s heart gives a panicked leap. ‘I’m falling!’ his mind screams, but then, no, obviously he’s not. With his eyes closed like this, and the air rushing about like a wind dance, he’s flying not falling, and Lithian’s quickly drawn breath of panic leaves in a rush of more open laughter. “Sy!” he calls out over the wind. “Put me down!” As quickly as that, Lithian’s feet touch ground again. His heart feels like a dragon beating its wings inside his chest, and Lith holds his pose, uncertain if he can move yet. His brother’s soft chuckling eases his uncertainty. “You can open your eyes now, Lili.” Lithian lifts one hand first, peeking out as though emerging from a dark cave into the sunlight, and when Syrikk grins at him, he lets both hands fall to his sides, brushing them over his tingling skin. “Lili is a girl’s name,” he says. “You promised you wouldn’t call me that once I got bigger.” Chuckling, his brother approaches and shuffles a hand through his thoroughly-mussed hair, kissing the crown of his forehead lightly. “You still look like a girl, merboy. And you’re not all that big yet, besides. Gotta work on those muscles.” Syrikk pats Lith’s forearm, earning an exaggerated pout, and Syrikk grins. “C’mon. I did drag you out of the water for a reason. Ysette wants to talk to you.” Lithian’s attention immediately perks up. “Are she and Daraka done…talking?” A huff. “They’re never done talking these days,” Sy says. “Not really. But yeah, they’re at a lull for now. You’ll, uh…” He eyes Lith, a flicker of amusement dancing back into his eyes. “You’ll want to fix up your hair though. Looks like an ibi nested in it.” Word Count: 1,217
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Posted: Wed Nov 06, 2013 12:12 pm
Iwana
oooooDaraka Bhardvaris is his mother’s son minus her youthful passion for battle. Arguably more pacifist than either of his parents, he makes it painfully clear that he believes dovaa have no place in ‘wasteful skirmishes of the other races’ and, on this point, he and his elder sister could not be more polarized. Though his interactions with Ysette when she returns from long absences generally start off amiable enough, their clash of opinions inevitably lead to outbreaks at some point during her stay. Most of the time, said outbreaks result in her returning to outside realm shortly afterwards. Having made his way inside, finished drying, and changed into a fresh set of clothes, Lithian sits with his legs folded beneath him and his only younger sibling, Iwana, at his back. Despite being only seven years old, she handles his hair with the gentility of a careful parent, keeping her brush strokes patient but diligent. When they were smaller still, Lithian used to ‘help’ his mother take care of younger sister — holding her, brushing her hair, reading to her as soon as her learned how — and now, the exchange is something of a habit. Also a stand-in excuse for her to gossip with him. “So…” Lithian can hear the grin in her voice when she speaks. “…do you know why Daraka was so upset?” Iwana asks, and Lithian can feel the way she wriggles with excitement behind him, ever-eager to fill him in on what she’s learned. “No,” he answers. “I wasn’t listening.” After a brief ‘of-course-not’ huff, Iwana snickers. “Ysette wants to take you to visit the common realm.” Lithian freezes, his pulse start-stopping in his chest like a malfunctioning orderite gizmo not out of the experimental stage yet. “Down to Serenia and the across the sea to Eowyn, isn’t that exciting?” “I—y…ahh…” Lithian tugs at a loose strand of hair. “Al…already?” Behind him, Iwana groans. “Lithi aaannn…” “What? It’s only—” “It’s exciting!” Iwana blurts, and Lithian quiets. “You get to see the outside world, other races, the sun and stars, the work of the goddesses! Everything we’ve read about in all those stories you love is out there and you’re going to get to see it for the first time, but you’re still scared.” “I’m not…” Lithian frowns, “…scared. I’m just…” When he manages a sidelong glance to catch Iwana’s expression, his shoulders slump a half fraction. “It’s dangerous out there.” “That’s what makes it exciting,” Iwana insists. “That’s what makes it scary.” “You’re old enough to be a real apprentice now. You get to learn to fight and explore…I wish I could go too. Mother says I’m not ready yet, though…” “Good.” “Hey!” Iwana nudges at him. “At least I’m not scared.” “I’m not—!” “Have you decided yet?” Iwana cuts him off and Lith glances back at her. “Decided what?” “You know what!” She grins, poking the florescent blue scales on his cheek and Lithian releases a curt huff, looking away again as he blushes. “You haven’t yet, have you.” She makes the ‘question’ a statement, and Lithian rubs at one of his horns. “Not yet…” “Maybe you should talk to somebody.” “Mm…maybe,” Lithian says. “Why are you so excited about it?” “Becaaauuse…” Iwana grins at him. “I already know what I want to be, and you’ll get proper magic! I’m jealous you get to choose now…waiting to get older is awful.” Lith chuckles. “Yeah? And what are you going to be, oh Decided One?” “Ysali. I’ll be the greatest healer ever.” “Mm.” Lithian smiles. “If you say so.” “I will! And I’ll strike down any enemy foolish enough to think otherwise.” “Isn’t the, ah, ‘striking down’ bit supposed to be the job of the not healers?” Lithian asks, smile broadening, but Iwana waves him off. “I’ll be good at everything.” Lithian snickers. “You doubt my might?” Iwana asks, adopting a chest-out, hands-on-her-hips and chin-towards-the-sky pose of exaggerated superiority, and Lithian’s smile curves sidelong into something almost devious. “Yes, sister, I challenge your might,” he says, adopting the pseudo-lowered, sly voice of the ‘villain.’ Iwana squeals — her ‘battle cry’ — and leaps on him. The two collapse together in a ferocious war of tangled limbs, broken up only by yelps and giggles. This is how Ysette finds them. Word Count: 744
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Posted: Fri Nov 08, 2013 2:16 pm
Ysette
Lithian lies prone on his back, one hand dropped theatrically limp and open to the side and the other on his chest, both eyes shut and head tilted sidelong, all his body still — ‘dead’ for the sake of the game. Iwana sits astride him, small hands gripped to his horns and chin up, the triumphant posture of a conqueror fully in place. At least, until Ysette steps into the room. “Is it a fight to the death?” Ysette’s warm voice fills the corners of the room like the light from a freshly-lit hearth. Iwana squeaks and lets go of her brother’s horns as though shocked. “I didn’t kill him!” “No?” The corner of Lithian’s lips twitch upwards, the only visible evidence of his struggle against laughter, but otherwise he manages to keep his composure and hold still. Iwana whines at his lack of cooperation and shakes him. “Lithiaaaan!” She rocks against him as she draws out the syllables of his name. “Get uuup. Tell Ysette I didn’t kill you!” “Oh, I don’t know…” The soft tap of Ysette’s boots approach as she comes towards them. “Perhaps you don’t know your own strength, Iwa? He is pretty fragile…” The teasing note in her voice softens the comment, but Lithian opens an eye anyway. “I—” he starts to object, but he’s cut off immediately by an incredibly pleased Iwana. “See! I told you he wasn’t dead.” When she sticks her tongue out at him, Lithian gives up on not laughing, and when his break down into a fit of giggles prompts her to ‘attack’ him again, it takes Ysette approaching from behind and lifting her physically off of him to separate the two, Iwana still squealing and Lithian breathless with laughter. As Ysette carts her away, Iwana pouts and wraps her legs around her sister’s waist, complaining, “I wasn’t done with him yet…” “I know, little bug,” Ysette says, smiling, “but I need to talk to him for a bit. Do you think I could borrow him? You can practice your battle strategy on him more afterwards if you like.” After getting Iwana’s reluctant consent, Ysette walks her to the door and Iwana climbs down and exists. Meanwhile, Lithian sits up and tames his hair back into some semblance of order with his fingers, watching Ysette when she comes back his way again. She sits on the lip of his bed and when she motions him to sit beside her, he scrambles up to do so, heart beating faster at the increased air of seriousness between them. “Iwana told you why I sent Syrikk out after you?” Lithian nods. “What do you think?” Ysette asks, and Lithian breathes out, uncertain how he ought to answer or what he would say even if there weren’t any expectations of him. As though reading his mind, Ysette adds, “I want to hear it from you, Lith, not what you think I want to hear. Do you want to go?” “Yes,” he answers immediately, without thinking. Because he does want to go. He wants to see the world outside, to learn what it’s like to set foot on ground that other races have walked on, to see a planet that is not a utopian bubble imagined and created specifically to cater to him — to his people. It’s just… “It’s dangerous,” Ysette says, stealing the words from his thoughts again, and Lithian avoids her eyes. Looking at his fingers instead, Lithian can think only that he’s never touched a weapon in earnest. Never slung a spell meant to actually hurt someone. How, then, is he supposed travel down to a world where the very definition of living is fighting for one’s life? And not simply fighting death, as he did as a small child, but fighting all those that would send them to death before their time? “Mother says—” “That you’re old enough,” Ysette finishes before he can. “If you think you are ready, then I am ready to take you.” After a significant pause between them, Ysette’s voice softens as she adds, “You don’t have to be a soldier, Lith…there is honor in the path of a civilian.” Lithian’s throat knots and he rubs his thumb over the inside of his wrist, shaking his head. “Daraka isn’t a soldier.” “Lithian…” “Do you hate him for that?” Lith asks. Making himself push the words from his mouth is a struggle, but once he does, they hang there in the silence that follows. The last thing he expects is for Ysette to move as she does: off of the bed beside him and to a kneel in front of him as she takes his hands in hers and for one, fleeting instant, all Lithian can remember is the moment they were in this position so many years ago now before she left for the first time. “Lithian, listen to me,” Ysette says gently, though her words are firm with purpose, and she waits until he meets her eyes before continuing. “Daraka is my brother. Your brother. Our brother. He is family. And I will always love him. Just as he will always love me, and as I will always love you. We fight because who we are is so similar even though what we believe is so different. He thinks I am a wasteful fool, and I think he is a blind coward, but we will never hate each other…I would lay down my life for him in an instant, and I know he would do the same for me. And I will never hate you, no matter what you choose to do with your life.” “Will you think I’m a coward?” Ysette’s lips curve up a half-fraction, and something in her expression eases with her smile. In that instant, Lithian is reminded that she looks very much like their mother: sharp, angular features that seem wickedly fierce when on the wrong end of her temper, but that are at the same time capable of shifting into something impossibly warm and calming when she wants to draw you under her protection. “I will reserve judgement until after you choose from the many paths open to you, but know that I do not consider all those who abstain from battle to be cowards,” Ysette says. “If you do not think that a soldier’s life is fit for you, I don’t encourage you to choose it. It’s hard, and dangerous, and it will make you miserable if it is not your calling…it may well make you miserable regardless.” “I don’t want to disappoint you,” Lithian admits. “I don’t want to disappoint anyone…” Ysette’s fingers brush along his temple, tucking a loose strand of black hair behind his horns. “You won’t disappoint me, Lithian. But you must remember that when it comes to the greatest decisions in your life, what I want for you does not matter. No one’s desires but yours matter in those cases, because you cannot possibly please everyone. No matter what you choose, someone will always be there to disagree with you, so you might as well begin by making the choices that satisfy you and see where that leads you.” Lithian opens his mouth, but no words come, and eventually he simply sinks off the lip of his bed and into his sister’s arms, clinging to her neck in a hug and staying there as she holds him. “I want to learn to fight,” he murmurs at length. “I want to see Eowyn and the other races…but I want to be a healer.” Lithian can feel the curve of Ysette’s smile as she presses a kiss to his temple, and the smile is still there on her lips when he relaxes his hold, sinking back to simply sit on the floor before her. “You should speak with Kavanna,” Ysette advises. “Family name Kaalia-Naraama. She is a powerful healer, lives within the city, and has been taking on many students as of late, or so I hear. Regardless of the clan you choose, I’m sure she is better suited to advising you there than I.” Ysette winks, and Lithian’s cheeks warm, but he smiles. “I like your advice.” “Yes, well…” She kisses his forehead as she stands, and Lithian follows suit, brushing his hands over his clothes to straighten them as he does. “I will always be here for you to talk to. For the healing arts, though…I think it would benefit you to hear some outside opinions. It’s, ah…” She toys with a spark of fire, rolling it between her fingers a safe distance from him, “…not my specialty.” Lithian’s smile broadens to something bordering a grin. “Thank you.” Closing her fist, Ysette douses the spark and nods to dresser. “After speaking with her, you should get your things together. We’re in cue to head out of the portal and catch the morning ferry to Eowyn first thing come light the day after tomorrow.” Word Count: 1,512
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Posted: Fri Nov 08, 2013 7:39 pm
The Girl Next Door Word Count: 1,214
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Posted: Fri Nov 08, 2013 9:42 pm
The Girl Next Door
Dear Journal,
Ysette thought it would be a good idea for me to speak with another healer before making a final choice about my clan. Before I could get going, though, Syrikk stopped me and asked me to deliver a couple books to a classmate of his. Though finding her house was a bit troublesome, she seemed nice enough when I met her - if a bit irritated by her friend. She seems to really like Syrikk, though, and it doesn't make sense that he doesn't see it.
Her eyes were also really strange ... *some words are clearly scribbled through and blotted out here* ...different, but not ugly. I wonder how they got that way, but I think it would be rude to ask. Maybe I'll find out someday.
Sincerely,
Lithian Bhardvaris
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Posted: Mon Nov 11, 2013 1:43 pm
[Placeholder for Damian x Lith PRP link.]
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Posted: Mon Nov 11, 2013 1:48 pm
[Placeholder for Damian x Lith journal response.]
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Posted: Mon Nov 11, 2013 1:59 pm
Where the Current Pulls Lithian sits with his eyes shut, his feet tucked beneath him and his knees to the grass. He listens to the world breathe around him: the gentle push pull of the breeze in his hair, against his cheek; the soft chatter of birds and other small critters darting through the trees above him, and, the source of his own focus, the quiet murmuring whisper of the river in front of him. In his lap, cupped in his palms, the cool weight of a single, deep swirling blue orb rests, pressing against the pads of his fingers, heavy with purpose. This is a turning point in his life. One of the few massive decisions he makes that will forever change the tides of his fate — something he can never step back from — but as he listens to the gentle rippling sigh of the river rolling its weight over and between pebbles, ever farther downstream, he knows, in the end, he could not have made any other choice than this. Still, all he can think of in this moment is his mother’s face. How she looked at him with a soft, resigned smile. As though she knew this choice had long since loomed ahead in his future and that he would never follow in the bolder paths that she and his father cut before him. But Lithian can’t bring himself to regret it, and his mother never said a word to the contrary. She simply kissed his forehead and, after leaving him a moment with instructions to wait, returned with the efflorescent orb Lithian carries now in his palms. It seems a pity, almost, to break it. The souls of how many dragons were stolen, captured, and locked away just to permit him this chance attune himself to their magic? Lithian can’t let himself think about that too long, for who is he to need to steal the life of other creatures so grand and powerful beyond his imagining in order to progress with his own life and training? He pushes the thought from his mind and curves his thumb up the shape of the orb in his grip. Perfectly smooth. Tomorrow morning he, Ysette, Syrikk, Accucius, and Adela will all set out for the portal, along with the ayrala girl. ‘Araceli,’ Lithian reminds himself silently. He’ll want to have his magic to work with before his journey into the other realm. To practice with. Ysette even said she’d found a contact for him on Eowyn — an Orderite mage willing to coach him through some practice battles. Yes, this is something he needs to do now. Lithian opens his eyes, glancing down to the orb in his hands. Stomping or crushing it into the ground feels wrong somehow, no matter how much he tells himself to, and he frowns until his eyes land on a large, upraised boulder, just beneath the surface of the water, near the middle of the river. It takes only half a second’s debate before he’s gently setting the orb to the side and unfastening his boots, stripping off his top and belt, and then picking it back up and wading out into the water. “Abronaxus,” Lithian murmurs as he situates himself behind the boulder and sets the orb to perch atop it. “I…” He breathes out, frowning. “These dragons died for the power I’m about to obtain. Please…guide me in using it wisely, so that their souls do not run to waste.” Clack, is the sound of the tap Lithian gives the orb, cracking it hesitantly to the rock beneath him. Not much, but it’s enough. Like a chain reaction, a single crack — and then a spiderweb of them — laces up the surface of the orb, a brilliant, glowing white-blue pattern like the light of a thousand blue dawns is trying to burst free at once. Then, as one, it shatters, the fragments dissipating like dust and then sinking like liquid energy into the surrounding water, encompassing him and then gathering against him. Lithian shuts his eyes against the initial ripple, his skin prickling up with goosebumps as the magic seeps into him: climbing up him, merging into him, swallowing him whole, and changing him physically in the backlash. He shudders when the process finally seems to stop, breathing anew and feeling as though every inch of him is temporarily hyper-sensitive. The air in his lungs fresh and cool, every color bright and dynamic — and never before had the water felt so much a part of him. He waits many long minutes just as he is, unable to part yet with the river. When he finally does manage to step out and dry himself off, redress, and start making his way back towards his parents' property, his eyes catch on a still pool, and he pauses, startled, at the unfamiliar reflection of himself. Straight, pale teal hair and deep, aquamarine eyes stare back at him where once black and violet were. Even his horns have changed, blue now as well, instead of their previous dull brown. Lithian tugs a still-damp lock of hair forward, eyeing the tips of it as though to cement the new reality in his mind. After doing so, he bites his lip and smiles. He can’t imagine having made any other choice in the end. Word Count: 903
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Posted: Thu Nov 14, 2013 10:02 am
Above the Sea, Beneath the Stars Word Count: 1,928
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Posted: Thu Nov 14, 2013 11:51 am
Above the Sea, Beneath the Stars
Dear Journal,
We boarded the ship bound for Eowyn today, my first time out of the Celestial Plane. The night sky was beautiful — unlike anything I've ever seen before. I felt if I could only reach high enough, I could cup the magic of the glittering sky in my palms.
When I came on deck after being cooped below for too long I also met with Araceli again, the girl with the eyes. Though she didn't seem thrilled at first to see me, I think she was just surprised to have company and warmed up quickly…she seems very kind, and we talked for some time. She even told me about her own adventures on Eowyn in the past. She's seen hybrids!
We talked about our clan choices, too. I'm so excited to have mine decided, and it was nice to talk to someone outside of my family about such things. I hope I can continue to spend more time with her in the future. Hopefully she won't begin to consider me a bother…
Sincerely,
Lithian Bhardvaris
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Posted: Thu Nov 14, 2013 11:53 am
The Girl With the Wings Word Count: 421 (WIP)
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Posted: Thu Nov 14, 2013 12:01 pm
[Placeholder for The Girl With the Wings journal response.]
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Posted: Fri Nov 15, 2013 8:49 am
Lithian's Three Step Guide to Battling Farm Animals Word Count: 1,314
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