writing meme reposts 3
From this post (locked).
('Aodh and the Kid, fire ants'; Wild Roses, future forward)
"You could start a war, y'know--open a door in the middle of two different nests, see which one fielded more troops--"
"Shut up," the Kid replied equably, "or I'll see if I can open one from a nest down the back of your neck."
---
('Sean and a puppy'; Wild Roses, before the wars)
"Here, hold him still, will you?" was all the warning Sean got before he got an armful of slightly listless puppy, paws curled up on top of its still narrow chest. It--he--was eying him in mild suspicion.
He eyed back, waiting for a spark or blink to tell him if he was holding someone's pet or someone's son.
---
('Arianhrod, electric blue'; Wild Roses, before Rosenthal)
"Daughter mine," she said at once, half tempted to raise her hand to shield her eyes, "that dress you're wearing does not compliment your hair."
"I know," her daughter replied, white teeth showing as she smiled. "Everyone looks at my hair and my shirt and not a one sees me. I could get away with robbing a bank in full daylight with this."
She gave up and covered her eyes with one hand. "Only you would think this was a valid reason to wear a colour. Liars' gods."
Her daughter had her father's laugh, dark wicked chuckle that matched their dark skin.
---
('frost rimmed water'; Wild Roses, first winter of the second war)
The wake of ships usually splashed away all trace of ice long before it would have melted in weak winter sunlight. Today, though, no ships sailed this stretch of river, rumours of monsters from other seas keeping commuters home and merchants near to towns.
So the river swept silent, and deep, its edges traced in frost.
---
('dead blue eyes'; Witches' Horses [Old Man Winter] end/outtake)
It wasn't her fault. She knew that. But her father's eyes made her feel like it wasn't so--that she should have been the one to die out here, willing, her choices made and done. Not her stepmother's greedy hands on the gifts she'd returned with, nor her stepsister's wailing as she was pushed out to the abandoned terem.
Certainly not her sister's place to die here, alone and unprepared.
Not her father's place to die here, victim of an angry spirit.
Perhaps her stepmother's place to die here. It was her greed that brought them back.
Perhaps her place, now, stepping past the bodies of her family, feeling the cold seep through the edges of her gifted clothing, singing softly about rusalkas laid to rest.
---
('a rough clay bowl/cup'; Death be Not Proud, one of the brothers De'Ath)
It was distinctly surreal to see a bowl you'd known, a very long time ago, in a tavern that hadn't existed in years, set up behind glass and labeled an artifact of the past.
It wasn't well made; most things in that tavern hadn't been--too easy for things to break accidentally even without involving a fight. Rough clay, still showing the coils it was made from in places, the thick glaze as piecy as it'd ever been, made by flinging salt into a firing kiln.
Yet there it was, the text beside it near exalting its status as survivor.
. . He was tempted to steal it and put it to use holding his keys or something.
('Aodh and the Kid, fire ants'; Wild Roses, future forward)
"You could start a war, y'know--open a door in the middle of two different nests, see which one fielded more troops--"
"Shut up," the Kid replied equably, "or I'll see if I can open one from a nest down the back of your neck."
---
('Sean and a puppy'; Wild Roses, before the wars)
"Here, hold him still, will you?" was all the warning Sean got before he got an armful of slightly listless puppy, paws curled up on top of its still narrow chest. It--he--was eying him in mild suspicion.
He eyed back, waiting for a spark or blink to tell him if he was holding someone's pet or someone's son.
---
('Arianhrod, electric blue'; Wild Roses, before Rosenthal)
"Daughter mine," she said at once, half tempted to raise her hand to shield her eyes, "that dress you're wearing does not compliment your hair."
"I know," her daughter replied, white teeth showing as she smiled. "Everyone looks at my hair and my shirt and not a one sees me. I could get away with robbing a bank in full daylight with this."
She gave up and covered her eyes with one hand. "Only you would think this was a valid reason to wear a colour. Liars' gods."
Her daughter had her father's laugh, dark wicked chuckle that matched their dark skin.
---
('frost rimmed water'; Wild Roses, first winter of the second war)
The wake of ships usually splashed away all trace of ice long before it would have melted in weak winter sunlight. Today, though, no ships sailed this stretch of river, rumours of monsters from other seas keeping commuters home and merchants near to towns.
So the river swept silent, and deep, its edges traced in frost.
---
('dead blue eyes'; Witches' Horses [Old Man Winter] end/outtake)
It wasn't her fault. She knew that. But her father's eyes made her feel like it wasn't so--that she should have been the one to die out here, willing, her choices made and done. Not her stepmother's greedy hands on the gifts she'd returned with, nor her stepsister's wailing as she was pushed out to the abandoned terem.
Certainly not her sister's place to die here, alone and unprepared.
Not her father's place to die here, victim of an angry spirit.
Perhaps her stepmother's place to die here. It was her greed that brought them back.
Perhaps her place, now, stepping past the bodies of her family, feeling the cold seep through the edges of her gifted clothing, singing softly about rusalkas laid to rest.
---
('a rough clay bowl/cup'; Death be Not Proud, one of the brothers De'Ath)
It was distinctly surreal to see a bowl you'd known, a very long time ago, in a tavern that hadn't existed in years, set up behind glass and labeled an artifact of the past.
It wasn't well made; most things in that tavern hadn't been--too easy for things to break accidentally even without involving a fight. Rough clay, still showing the coils it was made from in places, the thick glaze as piecy as it'd ever been, made by flinging salt into a firing kiln.
Yet there it was, the text beside it near exalting its status as survivor.
. . He was tempted to steal it and put it to use holding his keys or something.