Welcome to Gaia! ::

“Sssh! Sssh! It’s starting now!” Someone in the crowd of neighbors commanded to everyone huddled around a giant flat screen television. Noisey conversation down enough to hear what was coming from two towering speakers. The adults in the room quickly crowded onto the two long sofas in front of the glowing screen. A girl child was the youngest by far, and she sat awkwardly in between two men.

The lights over head shut off on cue, and the stereo’s volume was turned up just in time for the introduction.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, his majesty—the people’s Emperor!"

The television’s news anchor shouted in enthusiasm, and a symphony of cheering erupted from the broadcasted crowd filled the room, as its own tangible huddle of people quieted down.

It had been a really long time since Dandi had seen the Emperor on T.V. He was far too busy with the war now. Her father interrupted her thoughts when he picked her up and put her in his lap so that he might sit in her reserved space on the couch. He liked telling stories about when the Emperor used to talk to the country almost every day with short news broadcasts. Dandi was too young to remember such times; she was barely twelve years of age.

It was seconds after the announcement that the most powerful man in the world strode into the camera’s frame. He took his place on the podium, built into the misty Great Eastern Bridge.The Emperor stood tall, with a waterfall far in the distance behind him and the mountainside. Dressed in brocade, his red hair blew in the light wind.

Silence fell on both the television setting, and in the living room full of people. After a moment, the Emperor began his speech… or rather his performance.

“As many of you know by now… our nation, not three days ago, has suffered a great tragedy. Countless families have shared this tragedy, as many of you—my citizens—have also lost a loved one in the service of our country. Now I can truly say… that I feel your anguish, and your pain.

“ You have lost a beloved leader and voice here in Tintagil, our capitol, and I have lost a beloved wife and friend.”

“Bless him, the poor man!” Dandi’s mother whispered to the neighbors. The emperor looked down a second, at the crowd of men and women who starred at him in complete silence. Dandi starred too, and was glad when he began talking again for it was if the world stopped to wait in grief for him.

“To dispel any speculation and rumor I will confirm that Epony Anthea—your Eminent Anthea, and empress—is dead. She was killed during the attack on Tintagil a couple days prior. The world will never forget her, but we must carry on. In her memory we will prevail, and fulfill the promise we have made in the names of our loved one and the names of all those who have sacrificed on behalf of our world.

“ We in our generation have accomplished so much, and we will do so much more. For the sake of future generations to come, people like Epony Anthea have strived, toiled and given their lives. We must keep our heroes and loved ones in our memory forever, for our memories are all that can fill the empty place in our hearts, gouged out by tragedy and loss.
I humbly thank all of you for your support, and your prayers. My sister, Alcamede Kyna, will be fulfilling the duties of the Anthea for the time being, until a candidate is formally appointed to the title.”

The Emperor stepped off his stage, only to be met by a mob of people demanding answers to questions the television station silenced. A news anchor took over the channel, summarizing the situation for new viewers and debating the Emperor’s choice of a replacement Anthea. The sofa’s occupants began to dissipate.

A few grown-ups stayed in their spots around Dandi and her father. One of them got up to get her daddy something to drink. They all adorned the same expressions as they had worn while watching the Emperor’s mournful declaration. The ice cubes bouncing across the glass of liquid made enough sound to compete with the news anchor and the chatting in the outer living room. The glass of water passed in front of Dandi’s eyes before her father’s big hand received it. The girl could feel the discomfort in her father’s chest, racing at her back.

The husky voice of the old man who fetched the drink asked in pity, “Are you feeling alright Lee?”

“I’ll be ok, I just realized…” Her father replied, and handed a half empty cup to Dandi. She sipped it, while listening attentively to their conversation.

“Realized what?”

“How important it is, that I make this next production absolutely perfect.”

“Which play are you going to use?”

“I don’t know yet, I meet with his majesty in two days to determine that. I have a few different plays that I’ve been working on ideas for… I’ll let him pick which he would like to be the production at his birthday this year. Do you think he’d like that?”

The answers from the neighbors were mixed. They only confused Dandi’s dad.

“Why don’t you ask the Emperor which play was his wife’s favorite? He would really like keep his memories of her fresh.” Dandi suggested, while looking up, trying to see her father’s face and failing.

“I shall! Thank you, Dandi. You didn’t sense that did you?” “Girl’s got talent I tell you!” Her father bragged to astonished guests. He moved his thinning and graying hair out of his gaunt face, confidently. “She’s been predicting things for years.”

“I didn’t sense this like I did when I said the theatre company would be the one to be at the Emperor’s birthday this year. I’d just bet he’d like it if you asked him that.” The girl sipped water, to hide the curl of her small lips. The single jewel of their town—the theatre company—was about to be polished by the Emperor himself. No one but she ever dared to hope for such a dream to come true.

Her mother’s biggest dream was that her only daughter may one day be a theatre super star, but Dandi hoped to study at the Priory Student Academy in Tintagil—the capitol of the world. The Emperor lived there, and so did other girls who could see like she could.

Dandi hoped to meet one of the Priory’s priestesses while she was in Tintagil with Dad. He had promised to bring her along on his appointment with the Emperor. They were to leave tomorrow, first thing in the morning on the Light Rail Air-Tran system. Their family had helped them pack yesterday, only to be in dismay when they realized Dandi needed a new dress for the occasion, and no one could pick a gift for the Emperor. Dad’s conclusion was that he’d have to shop around in Tintagil upon arrival.
“Go to bed.” Dandi’s mother declared while flicking the child’s black hair. The young girl has a long day ahead of her, and obeyed.

Before the sun rose on the morrow, she and her father had passed up their neighborhood, and then the theatre they treasured. On the Light Rail, they passed flat lands, trees, hills, and granite mountains. The mountains readily grew larger as time went by. After a day that seemed to be as long as the landscape was old, lights finally appeared where the twilight of the sky touched the mountain tops. Speckles of light created man-made, sky of stars on a pattern of dark rectangles. The first traces of the grand city were almost recognizable, but the luxurious skyscrapers were unmistakable as the gliding train pulled up through its final mountain pass.

The ascension into Tintagil was the best view of the day. There were yellow lights, white lights, red lights, green lights, and glints of metal off the awakening skyscraper giants. The steel beings’ inhabitants were on the verge of retiring for the night, but their city was slowly bringing itself back to life. Spotlights poured out of hotels, shopping centers, homes, streetlamps, and every conceivable necessity for a metropolis. The twilight’s curtain was pulling up, as night was settling onto the Emperor’s stage, lit for him by countless sources and souls across the capitol.

The instant Dandi emerged from the train’s underground station, the overture of her adventure stirred into being. The beat of feet on moving sidewalks was the drums pounding out the hopeful tune, and its strings the night wind. The orchestra of city sounds was joined by a choir of thousand voices which chanted the lyrics of their lives. Dandi’s father joined in the melody as he checked into their hotel.

Father and daughter were both exhausted, and it took little effort to fall asleep on their fancy beds once unpacking and sanitizing was completed. What did take effort was getting out of bed the next morning.

When Dandi completed the task of crawling out of the blankets to get dressed, her father had already finished his share of their breakfast from room service. The pair was finally ready to start the day, which would be spent preparing for the day to come. They searched till noon in shops of clothes from all over the world in order to get Dandi a dress. She thought it was quite silly that any man could monopolize a color like the Emperor did, but that was how it had been done for thousands of years. No good citizen would ever consider wearing red anywhere near the Imperial Palace.

The girl settled on a sunny yellow dress for summer, and a very traditional gift for His Highness. Their business was done by lunch time, and shopping ended on a high note, but the end of the day’s entr’acte finished on a low one.

Dandi realized her dream of getting to explore the Priory’s half of the castle city, only to learn the extraordinary costs to study in the academy. She mournfully listened to the aria of the same waterfall that had been the Emperor’s backdrop on his recent speech. Her father took some souvenir pictures of the Great Eastern Bridge to the Priory, while his daughter sat on the same platform that had been used by their rulers for hundreds of years. The song the raging water sang was one of a lost dream and bitter-sweet occasion. Such a beautiful sight was cold from the waterfall’s mist and wind. Her fringe hair cut was black, and dripping with dew.

Dandi tried to forget the song on their way back to the hotel, and she nearly ended up forgetting the reason for their journey. Both she and her dad got off to a late start and skipped breakfast entirely in their mad rush to get organized and onto a train. The Imperial Palace was opposite the Priory, and a long ride away.

They purchased lunch and a present for His Majesty in their train car. Dandi had to sprint from their exit up to the Palace’s indoor security check point. Her stocking were a mess, and her father’s collar was soaked with sweat. It took passing over their ID papers with the imperial seal and a search of her dad’s briefcase before they were cleared for entrance into the personal quarters of the Emperor.

Arrival at the desk of the staff member responsible for sorting the Emperor’s schedule was only ten minutes before their appointment’s time. The poor receptionist woman sorted her notes while watching the pair huff and puff and gasp for breath. She pointed to a few arranged rosewood chairs against the draped hall to their backs. “You should sit for a while, I’m afraid His Excellence is going to be late. He’s working on a piece of legislation to pass in congress, as well as his nominations for Eminent Anthea. Would you like some water?”

The pair each gulped down four glasses of ice water the imperial staff member fetched from one of the servant kitchens a couple rooms down. Two rosewood doors inlayed with the imperial seal starred at Dandi, as she worked to compose herself. They barely stopped sweating before starting again when the two wooden doors swung open and a familiar man—who wasn’t as familiar as he should’ve been—took his entrance.

It was the tall, fire headed man from the news broadcast, but Dandi sensed something off about him. He looked like she remembered him…Dandi stared at him awkwardly, before nudging her father who hadn’t thought to look up. He instantly flew out of his chair and ran over to shake hands with the smiling leader.

“Sorry for the delay… Mr. Lee, correct?” The Emperor asked, with hospitality. It was definitely the same voice as on the news a few days prior.

“Yes, It’s an honor sir. This is my daughter, Dandi.”

His Highness beckoned the father and child into his lair, his performance only just beginning. Dandi trailed the men through very long, fancy, and confusing hallways. They finally took residence in an office room with a beautiful table set with matching chairs.

“Have you had fun in Tintagil?” The Emperor asked her politely, while pulling out a seat which was much too big for her.

“I guess,” Dandi mumbled and plopped down in disdain for him.

Once everyone was seated, the red head crossed his long legs, “What can I do for you today Mr. Lee?” No sooner did the words leave his lips than Dandi’s father was running around trying to present the materials in his briefcase on the table. The red head took a high posture, and tried not to chuckle at the sight.

“So have you gone sight-seeing?” His Majesty made small talk to Dandi to loosen the mood, but she couldn’t take it—something was wrong.

“We went to the Priory, it was too expensive to study there as a priestess.” Dandi was glaring at him now.

“I see… You have sight do you?”

“She told me about this meeting a month before my company even got the call!” Dad intervened, seeing her sour face.

“Don’t tell him Dad, he’s not the Emperor!” Dandi stood up defiantly. Her father’s jaw dropped and his heart sank into his toes. His Highness’s welcome demeanor was gone. Her dad apologized and was in the process of smoothing her comment over when to the conference room opened.

Even the infamous politician got a shock from the reprise of his own entrance when a second familiar red head strode through the room on her fair legs. Dandi knew her from the news too, because she was the temporary Eminent Anthea—Alcamede Kyna.

The woman was shorter than her brother, and with long orange curls and emerald green eyes that could look through time. Her green dress, lined with her signature eyed feathers, swung about and showed off the golden bracelet which declared her rank in the Priory. Dandi was enthralled to see one of her childhood heroes, and her father was just plain dumbfounded.

The Emperor appeared to be very, very annoyed.

“What is it?”He asked her, as she circled his chair. He had a trace of an accent Dandi never heard before.

“Your palace is so ridiculously big that I must’ve taken a wrong turn.” The temporary Anthea lied in an aria of mystery. Dandi hoped her idol would understand.

“He’s not the Emperor! Can you help?”

“My sister will tell you anything…” the imposter was interrupted by embarrassment when his face turned as red as his hair. The priestess put her marble arms around his shoulders and leaned on him in a flirtatious manner.

“Aww, my poor big brother… “ She rested her soft face on the top of his head and continued, “… is in his room, and wasting away as we speak.”

“Alcamede stop!” The imposter cried in frustration, and with a full northern accent.

“Don’t let this handsome paragon’s looks fool you. He’s a talented actor, and valet.” Alcamede shifted her posture and patted him on the head, unlike a sister. “How pathetic it is to devote one’s self to watching some else.”She was looking at Dandi, but the child was unsure of whom the high priestess was addressing.

The Valet did not look pleased at all.” Next time if you are going to out me Alcamede, at least give me notice!”

She whispered loudly to him in reply, “the future is subject to constant change, and knows no law.”

Dandi’s father finally managed to gesticulate although he was flabbergasted, “Wait… but why…?”

“This man has been a body-double for my brother since they were both fifteen years old. It is nothing new or personal.” She messed up the valet’s hair with her fingertips, to further prove that if she was free to flirt with him, he wasn’t of her kin.

“Then where’s the Emperor?” Dandi pondered, and the priestess’s face lit up.

“Do you want to see him?

“If you’d please?” Dad managed to croak in affirmation.

“Please don’t Alcamede!” The Valet protested, but in vain for the high priestess ignored him and led the way around a new labyrinth of walk ways and corners. The finish line was at another identical pair of double doors, outside of which was a dozen servants in uniform and a large bunch of unidentifiable staff or members of state. All of them were in mourning.

“His Majesty hasn’t come out of his bedroom since the empress’s funeral.” The Valet whispered, morose himself. The high priestess commanded him to open the doors, which he did reluctantly. Alcamede then stepped aside, motioning Dandi to go in first.

The girl took a breath, and willed her feet to move. A few paces in and around a corner, she caught sight of a dirty white figure. Vases, books, papers, and expensive décor was tossed about on the stained carpet.

The figure was that of a man, in a cotton undershirt and sweatpants. He was crouching in a ball next to a nightstand as if cowering from the world outside. As Dandi crept further into the hellhole of a bedroom, she could see he was on his knees making an egg shape for he had become the mere shell of a person.

No sooner had Dandi’s father opened his mouth to say something than the shape that was once a husband lurched to its weak ankles.

“OUT! OUT NOW! EVERYBODY OUT!” The figure shrieked, while hurling a lamp from the night stand into the wall. “Leave me be.” It added, begrudging in its tone.

Dandi flinched and nearly screamed, but the hand of Alcamede Kyna placed itself onto her shoulder.

“Don’t be afraid, he’s afraid too.” She whispered it into the girl’s ear before letting go.

Dandi had no idea what the high priestess requested of her, but there were a hundred eyes watching, and none of their owners dared to come stand with the Anthea in the middle of the destroyed space.

The pitiful man hung to a shelf with his greasy head down. Dandi took a few steps forward, to hear the Valet mumble to Dad, “He hasn’t eaten anything in days.”

“Why’re you back there?” Dandi innocently inquired to the figure that was now a few feet away.

The red headed ghost hoarsely demanded, “Go away…” He certainly smelled like he hadn’t bathed in days.

“You are worrying your sister.” The girl child was still inching to his corner on the fluffy red carpet.

“She should be worried and so should you,” He snapped and resisted looking at her, “”The war is lost; it killed Epony. The empire is on the verge of collapse and soon we will live to see the death of our world.” The figure turned away coldly, and fell on its knees in either despair or malnutrition.

“But none of that is over yet…”

“It is for me… In a matter of time it will be over for everyone.”

“You’re still here, but you’ve forgotten that.”

“I have not forgotten that my wife is dead!” the figure hissed, and moved a few more feet away. Dandi had confidence enough to quickly recover the lost ground. She took out the gift her father had made her carry the long day. It was just a rose, but its perfume cut through the stench of sorrow in the air.

“I have a present for you! I almost gave it to your valet instead, but I knew he wasn’t you.”

The Emperor turned his tired head around to face Dandi. She could see his blue eyes, and how they looked her up and down in curiosity.
“You’re a child!” He observed aloud, while finally noticing the flower.

The whole audience held their breath, all except Alcamede. Dandi’s father would have dragged her away by now, but the Anthea’s zealous smile fell on him as she turned to leave. It told him to have faith and hope, for she knew her mission had been achieved.

The Emperor turned around slowly.

“Why have you come here? I have lost everything… What is your name?”

“Dandi.”

She offered him the flower, which he looked at and then crawled over to her feet. The Emperor put his fingers around the red rose and cradled it in his hands.

“Your story isn’t over yet,” Dandi promised. His blue visage starred at her with their hate gone, and now only a broken heart remained. Dandi moved back to her father, unable to think of anything else to say.

The Emperor stood up to his full height, starred a few minutes, and turned his back once more. The devastated procession of friends and staff began to leave in failure. Even Dandi waited her turn to fit through the hall.
But then the Emperor thought a moment, and summoned the courage he had one had.

“One of you, go fetch me some water for Lady Dandi’s gift… and bring me some bread while you’re at it.”

Everyone stopped in their tracks and spun around. His Majesty was still facing the wall, but he was in the stance that his Valet had tried to imitate.
A dozen servants rushed to meet the order, but Dandi didn’t stay to watch. She followed Alcamede’s example, knowing her own purpose was fulfilled. She took a last glance, and saw the Emperor’s valet supporting his master and trying to persuade him to let go of the rose. The Emperor was refusing to hand over the flower, but allowing another member of staff to shove a glass of water down his throat.

Her dad never got his appointment with his Highness before their trip’s time was up in two more days, but he did a get ten minute phone call with the Anthea (now fully instated) who told him exactly which play to produce and how to do it. She answered every question he had except “How is your brother doing?”

Alcamede only replied, “You’ll see for yourself when you get home.”

At the Light Rail train station on their departure, was a very impatient valet who had been nervously searching for the little girl. His hair was fading colors from not having to dye it red, and he was dressed in normal clothes for a change which brought him into a rather merry mood when he handed Dandi a red envelope.

“Before you go, the Emperor has ordered a certain young lady should receive a full education in the Priory’s student academy.” The valet sounded strangely official, so Dandi gave him an awkward hug before being rushed off by her father in order to catch their train.

After traveling home and a catching up with her mother, their family was once again on the couches and watching the nightly news. The Emperor was talking again, but only this time he was a bit stiff, and shy.. almost as if he’d just come back onto the stage of the world.

To serve her memory she rummaged through her red envelope hoping to find a souvenir, but instead a small note fell out that she hadn’t yet discovered. It was hand written and torn off something else. She unfolded the note to find a rose petal as part of its contests. She beamed and silently read its message.

My story isn’t over, and neither is yours. Thank you.

Wishing both of us the best of luck,
Emperor Zensekai Denavorae.

Very nice ^^ A few spelling issues (stared vs. starred) that I can go through and fix if you like 3nodding

Please do Noise, I bet I had a ton of that...
lol and yes I bet a had of awkward phrasing too. Can anyone point those out?
And also, can you point out unnescessary sentences?

Yay Kumi liked it heart

Here's some of the edits I would make. You don't have to do all of them, or any of them for that matter.
red is where I've changed things
Orange is where I don't know how to change things...


“Sssh! Sssh! It’s starting now!” Someone in the crowd of neighbors commanded everyone huddled around a giant flat screen television. Crunchy sounds from eating and noisy voices from conversations died down enough to hear what was coming from two towering speakers. In an instant, a band of adults filled two long sofas in front of the glowing screen. A girl child, the youngest by far, sat awkwardly in between two men.

The lights over head shut off on cue, and the stereo’s volume was turned up just in time for the introduction.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, his majesty—the people’s Emperor!"

The television’s news anchor shouted in enthusiasm, and a symphony of cheering erupted from the broadcasted crowd and filled the room, as its own tangible huddle of people quieted down.

It had been a really long time since Dandi had seen the Emperor on T.V. He was far too busy with the war now to have time like he used to. Her father stalled her thoughts when he picked her up and put her in his lap so that he might sit in her reserved space on the couch. He liked telling stories about when the Emperor used to talk to the country almost every day, before the war of course… Dandi was too young to remember such times; she was barely twelve years of age.

Only seconds after the announcement, the most powerful man in the world strode into the camera’s frame. He took his place on the podium, built into the misty Great Eastern Bridge upon which the conference took place. The Emperor stood tall, with a waterfall far in the distance behind him and the mountainside. Dressed in brocade, his red hair blew in the light wind.

Silence fell on both the television setting, and the living room full of people. After a moment, the Emperor began his speech… or rather his performance.

“As many of you know by now… our nation, not three days ago, has suffered a great tragedy. Countless families have shared this tragedy, as many of you—my citizens—have also lost a loved one in the service of our country. Now I can truly say… that I feel your anguish, and your pain.

“ You have lost a beloved leader and voice here in Tintagil, our capitol, and I have lost a beloved wife and friend.”

“Bless him, the poor man!” Dandi’s mother whispered to the neighbors. The Emperor looked down a second, at the crowd of men and women who stared at him in complete silence. Dandi stared, too, and was glad when he resumed his speech, for it was if the world stopped to grieve with him.

“To dispel any speculation and rumor I will confirm that Epony Anthea—your Eminent Anthea, and empress—is dead. She was killed during the attack on Tintagil. The world will never forget her, but we must carry on. In her memory we will prevail, and fulfill the promise we have made in the names of our loved ones and the names of all those who have sacrificed on behalf of our world.

“ We have accomplished so much, and we will do so much more. For the sake of future generations, people like Epony Anthea have strived, toiled and given their lives. We must keep our heroes and loved ones in our memory forever, for our memories are all that can fill the empty place in our hearts, gouged out by tragedy and loss.
I humbly thank all of you for your support, and your prayers. My sister, Alcamede Kyna, will be fulfilling the duties of the Anthea for the time being, until a candidate is formally appointed to the title.”

The Emperor stepped off his stage, only to be met by a mob of people demanding answers to questions the television station silenced. A news anchor took over the channel, summarizing the situation for new viewers and debating the Emperor’s choice of a replacement Anthea. The sofa’s occupants began to dissipate.

A few grown-ups stayed in their spots around Dandi and her father. One of them got up to get him something to drink. They all carried the same expressions they had worn while watching the Emperor’s mournful declaration. Some ice cubes bouncing across a glass of liquid made enough sound to compete with the news anchor and the chatting in the outer living room. The glass of water passed in front of Dandi’s eyes before her father’s big hand received it. The girl could feel the discomfort in her father’s chest, racing at her back.

The husky voice of the old man who fetched the drink asked in pity, “Are you feeling alright Lee?”

“I’ll be ok, I just realized…” Her father replied, and handed a half empty cup to Dandi. She sipped it, listening attentively to their conversation.

“Realized what?”

“How important it is, that I make this next production absolutely perfect.”

“Which play are you going to use?”

“I don’t know yet, I meet with his majesty in two days to determine that. I have a few different plays that I’ve been working on ideas for… I’ll let him pick which he would like to be the production at his birthday this year. Do you think he’d like that?”

The answers from the neighbors were mixed. They only confused Dandi’s dad.

“Why don’t you ask the Emperor which play was his wife’s favorite? He would really like keep his memories of her fresh.” Dandi suggested, looking up to try to see her father’s face and failing.

“I shall! Thank you, Dandi. You didn’t sense that did you?” “Girl’s got talent I tell you!” Her father bragged to astonished guests. He moved his thinning and graying hair out of his gaunt face, confidently. “She’s been predicting things for years.”

“I didn’t sense this like I did when I said the theatre company would be the one to be at the Emperor’s birthday this year. I just think he’d like it if you asked him that.” The girl sipped water, to hide the curl of her small lips. The single jewel of their town—the theatre company—was about to be polished by the Emperor himself. No one but she ever dared to hope for such a dream to come true.

Her mother’s biggest dream was that her only daughter may one day be a theatre super star, but Dandi hoped to study at the Priory Student Academy in Tintagil—the capitol of the world. The Emperor lived there, and so did other girls who could see like she could.

Dandi hoped to meet one of the Priory’s priestesses while she was in Tintagil with Dad. He had promised to bring her along on his appointment with the Emperor. They were to leave tomorrow, first thing in the morning on the Light Rail Air-Tran system. Their family helped them pack yesterday, dismayed when they realized Dandi needed a new dress for the occasion, and no one could conceive of a gift for the Emperor. Dad’s conclusion was that he’d have to shop around in Tintagil upon arrival.
“Go to bed.” Dandi’s mother declared while flicking the child’s black hair. The young girl has a long day ahead of her, and obeyed.

Before the sun rose on the morrow, she and her father had passed up their neighborhood and the theatre they treasured. On the Light Rail, they passed flat lands, trees, hills, and granite mountains, which readily grew larger as time went by. After a day that seemed to be as long as the landscape was old, lights finally appeared where the twilight of the sky touched the mountain tops. Specks of light created man-made stars on a pattern of dark rectangles. The first traces of the grand city were almost recognizable, but the luxurious skyscrapers were unmistakable as the gliding train pulled up through its final mountain pass.

The ascent into Tintagil was the best view of the day. There were yellow, white, red and green lights, as well as glints of metal off the awakening skyscraper giants. The steel beings’ inhabitants were on the verge of retiring for the night, but their city was slowly bringing itself back to life. Spotlights poured out of hotels, shopping centers, homes, streetlamps, and every conceivable necessity for a metropolis. The twilight’s curtain was pulling up, as night settled onto the Emperor’s stage, lit for him by countless sources and souls across the capitol.

The instant Dandi emerged from the train’s underground station, the overture of her adventure stirred into being. The beat of feet on moving sidewalks was the drums pounding out the hopeful tune, and its strings the night wind. The orchestra of city sounds was joined by a choir of thousand voices which chanted the lyrics of their lives. Dandi’s father joined in the melody as he checked into their hotel.

Father and daughter were both exhausted, and it took little effort to fall asleep on their fancy beds once unpacking and sanitizing was completed. What did take effort was getting out of bed the next morning.

Can you show me the hiccups? lol.

I actually had more happen in that scene before Alcamede came in, I just didn't type it up because I was trying to shorten the story. sweatdrop
I think the limits to most things in the publishers you listed were less than 4000 words right?
It's currently 4100 words emo

THAT'S A GOOD IDEA blaugh

edit: I need another word instead of setting though, something about going on it....
I dunno if I like "taking" sweatdrop

Entering sounds funny too lol.

retaking and returning might work, I was hoping for one that works for both Zen and Dandi.