Mememememememe
"Evil Author Meme", stolen from menamebphil who strole it from Invaderk, who stole it from kuriadalmatia, who stole it from dragonladyk.
Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous.
Pick out the title that most intrigues you, or appeals to you, or whatever, and I'll post a snippet!
Hells' Heart (Original)
Five Things That Never ( Read more... )
Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous.
Pick out the title that most intrigues you, or appeals to you, or whatever, and I'll post a snippet!
Hells' Heart (Original)
Five Things That Never ( Read more... )
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A dead man's palms did not sweat. His pulse could not misbehave, jump his heart irregularly. If his breath caught in his throat, it was only a force of habit. Standing outside Aleyna's cell, Lazaar's body was impassive, but his mind was a whirlwind. This was not how he'd planned it, imagined it. Aleyna was an anachronistic saviour in his dreams, her lips pressed to his as a cold blade slid through his clammy flesh. She wasn't supposed to get caught.
Hesitantly, Lazaar cracked open the cell door, allowing it to fall open from its own weight. The room was tiny, leaky, dark and rank. His nose rankled at the smell of stagnant blood, his long dormant Death Knight senses firing off somewhere in the back of his putrefied brain. Aleyna was gone. Furrowing his heavy brow darkly, Lazaar edged into the room and examined the walls and floor. Her blood was pooled on the dirt along with a spool of dirty cloth and-
Lazaar bent to touch the bandages; in the mess were raggedly cut strips of punk flesh, freckle scattered and setting in with rot. Alarmed, Lazaar threw a wild look around the room and caught the drag of blood up the wall too late. By the time his gaze flickered upwards, Aleyna was already dropping from the ceiling, shank grasped desperately in her hands. She tackled Lazaar to the ground clumsily, stone-knife at his throat.
"Hey, Laz," she huffed. Her entire body was shaking and weak, but she forced her full weight into pinning him. He stared at her in the low light and did not struggle. Her actions were fierce and pathetic. He'd never been one to indulge in pithy poetics but now... like this... she was beautiful. Tentatively, he reached up to brush a lock of greasy, white hair out of her face. Her eyes flashed dangerously and she bared her teeth.
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean!?" she hissed.
Lazaar pulled his hand away awkwardly, "Get off."
"No," Aleyna replied defiantly. Her voice was shaky too.
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