1sent prompts (theme set Beta)
#01 - Walking#02 - Waltz#03 - Wishes#04 - Wonder#05 - Worry#06 - Whimsy#07 - Waste/Wasteland#08 - Whiskey and rum#09 - War#10 - Weddings#11 - Birthday#12 - Blessing #13 - Bias#14 - Burning#15 - Breathing#16 - Breaking#17 - Belief#18 - Balloon#19 - Balcony#20 - Bane#21 - Quiet #22 - Quirks#23 - Question#24 - Quarrel#25 - Quitting#26 - Jump#27 - Jester#28 - Jousting#29 - Jewel#30 - Just#31 - Smirk#32 - Sorrow#33 - Stupidity#34 - Serenade#35 - Sarcasm#36 - Sordid#37 - Soliloquy#38 - Sojourn#39 - Share#40 - Solitary#41 - Nowhere#42 - Neutral#43 - Nuance#44 - Near#45 - Natural#46 - Horizon#47 - Valiant#48 - Virtuous#49 - Victory#50 - Defeat
Here's where you come in, my darlings. Claim a prompt, give me characters to weave in there, whatever you like-- I need the practice!
2- Waltz: It wasn't a courtly pavane, or the stately play of words that she was used to from the people back home-- often Hiko stepped on toes and trod on feelings and generally made a huge assholeish oaf of himself-- but sometimes there was a certain 1-2-3-4 rhythm to their bickering, an easy tit-for-tat, that Asellus fell into as easily as she would the steps of a dance she'd known her entire life; even if he made her want to strangle him with that stupid cape, or if she pushed his patience to the breaking point and made him want to shove her into the kiln, there was no denying the easiness of that dance, and it was a little on the addicting side, to begin it over and over again.
3- Wishes: Never the pious girl, the A-student, the carbon-copy of her father that her aunt always wished she were, Asellus hadn't realized exactly how much she had expected out of her aunt in return for those exacting standards until she came home 12 years after her death to find that she no longer had one; she imagined that the feeling was mutual for her aunt, and to some extent she pitied her-- it was one thing to come home to no family, but it was quite another to have them replaced with a monster.
7- Wasteland: In the aftermath of the battle, when there were bodies discarded like careless dandelion seeds and the blood stained the ground to the color and consistency of red clay, as the night fell over the forces' makeshift camp and campfires sprung up, fire lilies in the deepening twilight, Asellus sat and let Shirley bandage her wounds, even as she refused to allow the dragoon to cast anything on her, and as she looked into the fire she could feel it: the knowledge that the day would come, and soon, when the woman who held the spark that could set this entire blasted landscape green and growing would be gone; she only hoped that she could stave it off, prevent it until Shirley had achieved the goal she chased on prism-white wings.
9- War: It's easy, Asellus thinks, to declare war on someone who doesn't have the advantages you do, and Bella is the best example of this; a woman who is so dedicated to her perceived superiority is the best example Asellus can think of of human arrogance and cruelty, and she wonders how the Witch would react if she knew Asellus wasn't fully human-- would it be hatred for her half-magical origins, or would it be something else?
11 - Birthday: It always seemed strange, that Shirley-- the coolheaded, logical one of the two-- had been born when the sun blazed down on the world and left grasses and ground faded and cracked, while Asellus had been born as the first frosts touched the ground, ice limning flat surfaces and beginning to trace lacelines across rivers and lakes; at first, it felt completely at odds with their natures, but at closer inspection, the sun of summer nurtured and led the fruits of the harvest to grow large, warmed the world and gave everyone the energy to work and play their best, while the ice that touched the ground also shielded it from the heavier snows that followed, so perhaps it was more suitable on a deeper level than first seen.
13- Bias: Favorite colors, sounds, activities-- Asellus can't understand not having preferences at all, and when she asks and all she gets is a vague smile, she wonders (not for the first time) if he's lying and his preferred pastime is being frustrating.
15- Breathing: There are the nights of the summer, the air heavy and fragrant and warm with just a touch of breeze, that they sit outside, still and silent-- meditating on the pulse of the Earth; for Haru it's a focus for his bending, but for Asellus, it's just time with the only family she's got.
17- Belief: For all her practiced cynicism, for all the incidents in the past that should have taught her to throw those rose-colored glasses away, Asellus' life was a constant lesson in the nature of faith, a struggle to be what everyone, including herself, believed she could never be, to find that path that she was the unwitting symbol of; sometimes she faltered, and often her trust ended up misplaced, but for all the pain it had brought her, Asellus found she could never stop believing.
20- Bane: "And here's wolfsbane," she asks, handing the blueish blooms over with care-- very poisonous, even for its protective properties, she rarely worked with the stuff but when Dean mentioned wanting to look into a vampire clan nearby, she felt compelled to help out, even if it meant wandering into the forests and wearing three sets of gloves to make sure she didn't bring the poison into Haze; his eyebrows raised, though he said nothing-- for once--, and she fidgeted and told him to shut up, she heard it would help.
22- Quirks: For all her devil-may-care attitude and breezy disregard for most convention, Quatre had the surprise of his life when she invited him over for tea and he found a set of immaculately clean rooms (all but her parlor) that bordered on the obscenely austere; she explained that she was home so rarely that she didn't have time to buy furniture and apologized for making him sit on a pillow.
34- Serenade: All it takes is a snicker from Haru when he catches her singing to herself to turn Asellus into a clown, warbling in classic Shingrow Opera style with her less-than-fantastic voice as if it's the most normal thing in the world to be doing when you're peeling potatoes; the cats look perturbed and somewhat annoyed, but Haru is beside himself laughing, and that's music enough for Asellus' ears.
38- Sojourn: It was only a matter of time until her enemies found her trail, and luckily she had warning enough to tell Nigredo to pack his things; they were going on a trip to a safer place in Annwn until things calmed down.
41- Nowhere: She'll never forget the free-fall drop as the world turned black and pulsating around them, the horror-warmness of the doorknobs, and most especially she'll never forget the sound White Rose made, a noise of recognition, a noise of decision-- a noise that Asellus never recognized until she was outside blinking at the light, exhilarated and alone.
43- Nuance: It was different, the nights when Asellus didn't bother finding another plaything for the evening but instead laughed and drank alongside her best friend (and no small number of admirers for the both of them), and as the bells of last call were rung and dawn began tracing her fingers over the horizon, stumbled home with her, arms around waists and laughing at their own private jokes as their erstwhile suitors looked on and felt vaguely cheated; it wasn't 'playtime' or anything heavy-- it was just them.
46- Horizon: With all the buildings destroyed, all the earth growing over the land humans had claimed as their own before Mother Nature took it back by force, the horizon goes on forever-- it's dizzying, it's beautiful, and in Asellus it inspires such grief that Free has to none-too-gently put his arm around her, leading her away down the overgrown, bone-strewn old highway and to their shelter; he can't lie to her and tell her the humans will recover, will rebound, because he can't smell them on the air at all, nowhere in their travels.
48- Virtuous: If he didn't speak, if he didn't open his mouth, a particularly idiotic person might mistake Tyki for a complete gentleman, dressed to the nines and with a certain languor to his form that spoke of feline grace, and Asellus was sure that anyone stupid enough to make that mistake might completely miss the screaming intensity, the deliberateness of his movements; when he opened his mouth, the drawl-- the slow dark-honey tones-- dispelled that illusion of virtue, and his words were generally none-too-polite, either; he can be downright insulting and seductive in the same voice, confusing to an extreme-- but it's fine, Asellus thinks, because she's not such a 'nice girl', either.
50- Defeat: Like the self-fulfilling prophecies they'd always been, in the war between the heads and the hearts of both Yohji and Asellus, there were no winners; his need to save at all costs, to atone for his sins and her hatred of sacrifice and the duties that haunted her, as well as their pasts like heavy mantles on their shoulders and the blood staining their hands meant that even if they could get over the ghosts that held them back, their hands were too copper-slick to do anything but slip out of one anothers', again and again.
Here's where you come in, my darlings. Claim a prompt, give me characters to weave in there, whatever you like-- I need the practice!
2- Waltz: It wasn't a courtly pavane, or the stately play of words that she was used to from the people back home-- often Hiko stepped on toes and trod on feelings and generally made a huge assholeish oaf of himself-- but sometimes there was a certain 1-2-3-4 rhythm to their bickering, an easy tit-for-tat, that Asellus fell into as easily as she would the steps of a dance she'd known her entire life; even if he made her want to strangle him with that stupid cape, or if she pushed his patience to the breaking point and made him want to shove her into the kiln, there was no denying the easiness of that dance, and it was a little on the addicting side, to begin it over and over again.
3- Wishes: Never the pious girl, the A-student, the carbon-copy of her father that her aunt always wished she were, Asellus hadn't realized exactly how much she had expected out of her aunt in return for those exacting standards until she came home 12 years after her death to find that she no longer had one; she imagined that the feeling was mutual for her aunt, and to some extent she pitied her-- it was one thing to come home to no family, but it was quite another to have them replaced with a monster.
7- Wasteland: In the aftermath of the battle, when there were bodies discarded like careless dandelion seeds and the blood stained the ground to the color and consistency of red clay, as the night fell over the forces' makeshift camp and campfires sprung up, fire lilies in the deepening twilight, Asellus sat and let Shirley bandage her wounds, even as she refused to allow the dragoon to cast anything on her, and as she looked into the fire she could feel it: the knowledge that the day would come, and soon, when the woman who held the spark that could set this entire blasted landscape green and growing would be gone; she only hoped that she could stave it off, prevent it until Shirley had achieved the goal she chased on prism-white wings.
9- War: It's easy, Asellus thinks, to declare war on someone who doesn't have the advantages you do, and Bella is the best example of this; a woman who is so dedicated to her perceived superiority is the best example Asellus can think of of human arrogance and cruelty, and she wonders how the Witch would react if she knew Asellus wasn't fully human-- would it be hatred for her half-magical origins, or would it be something else?
11 - Birthday: It always seemed strange, that Shirley-- the coolheaded, logical one of the two-- had been born when the sun blazed down on the world and left grasses and ground faded and cracked, while Asellus had been born as the first frosts touched the ground, ice limning flat surfaces and beginning to trace lacelines across rivers and lakes; at first, it felt completely at odds with their natures, but at closer inspection, the sun of summer nurtured and led the fruits of the harvest to grow large, warmed the world and gave everyone the energy to work and play their best, while the ice that touched the ground also shielded it from the heavier snows that followed, so perhaps it was more suitable on a deeper level than first seen.
13- Bias: Favorite colors, sounds, activities-- Asellus can't understand not having preferences at all, and when she asks and all she gets is a vague smile, she wonders (not for the first time) if he's lying and his preferred pastime is being frustrating.
15- Breathing: There are the nights of the summer, the air heavy and fragrant and warm with just a touch of breeze, that they sit outside, still and silent-- meditating on the pulse of the Earth; for Haru it's a focus for his bending, but for Asellus, it's just time with the only family she's got.
17- Belief: For all her practiced cynicism, for all the incidents in the past that should have taught her to throw those rose-colored glasses away, Asellus' life was a constant lesson in the nature of faith, a struggle to be what everyone, including herself, believed she could never be, to find that path that she was the unwitting symbol of; sometimes she faltered, and often her trust ended up misplaced, but for all the pain it had brought her, Asellus found she could never stop believing.
20- Bane: "And here's wolfsbane," she asks, handing the blueish blooms over with care-- very poisonous, even for its protective properties, she rarely worked with the stuff but when Dean mentioned wanting to look into a vampire clan nearby, she felt compelled to help out, even if it meant wandering into the forests and wearing three sets of gloves to make sure she didn't bring the poison into Haze; his eyebrows raised, though he said nothing-- for once--, and she fidgeted and told him to shut up, she heard it would help.
22- Quirks: For all her devil-may-care attitude and breezy disregard for most convention, Quatre had the surprise of his life when she invited him over for tea and he found a set of immaculately clean rooms (all but her parlor) that bordered on the obscenely austere; she explained that she was home so rarely that she didn't have time to buy furniture and apologized for making him sit on a pillow.
34- Serenade: All it takes is a snicker from Haru when he catches her singing to herself to turn Asellus into a clown, warbling in classic Shingrow Opera style with her less-than-fantastic voice as if it's the most normal thing in the world to be doing when you're peeling potatoes; the cats look perturbed and somewhat annoyed, but Haru is beside himself laughing, and that's music enough for Asellus' ears.
38- Sojourn: It was only a matter of time until her enemies found her trail, and luckily she had warning enough to tell Nigredo to pack his things; they were going on a trip to a safer place in Annwn until things calmed down.
41- Nowhere: She'll never forget the free-fall drop as the world turned black and pulsating around them, the horror-warmness of the doorknobs, and most especially she'll never forget the sound White Rose made, a noise of recognition, a noise of decision-- a noise that Asellus never recognized until she was outside blinking at the light, exhilarated and alone.
43- Nuance: It was different, the nights when Asellus didn't bother finding another plaything for the evening but instead laughed and drank alongside her best friend (and no small number of admirers for the both of them), and as the bells of last call were rung and dawn began tracing her fingers over the horizon, stumbled home with her, arms around waists and laughing at their own private jokes as their erstwhile suitors looked on and felt vaguely cheated; it wasn't 'playtime' or anything heavy-- it was just them.
46- Horizon: With all the buildings destroyed, all the earth growing over the land humans had claimed as their own before Mother Nature took it back by force, the horizon goes on forever-- it's dizzying, it's beautiful, and in Asellus it inspires such grief that Free has to none-too-gently put his arm around her, leading her away down the overgrown, bone-strewn old highway and to their shelter; he can't lie to her and tell her the humans will recover, will rebound, because he can't smell them on the air at all, nowhere in their travels.
48- Virtuous: If he didn't speak, if he didn't open his mouth, a particularly idiotic person might mistake Tyki for a complete gentleman, dressed to the nines and with a certain languor to his form that spoke of feline grace, and Asellus was sure that anyone stupid enough to make that mistake might completely miss the screaming intensity, the deliberateness of his movements; when he opened his mouth, the drawl-- the slow dark-honey tones-- dispelled that illusion of virtue, and his words were generally none-too-polite, either; he can be downright insulting and seductive in the same voice, confusing to an extreme-- but it's fine, Asellus thinks, because she's not such a 'nice girl', either.
50- Defeat: Like the self-fulfilling prophecies they'd always been, in the war between the heads and the hearts of both Yohji and Asellus, there were no winners; his need to save at all costs, to atone for his sins and her hatred of sacrifice and the duties that haunted her, as well as their pasts like heavy mantles on their shoulders and the blood staining their hands meant that even if they could get over the ghosts that held them back, their hands were too copper-slick to do anything but slip out of one anothers', again and again.