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Everything posted by Blurble

  1. Right, sacrificing your own life is to some extent easier than other things. Or what if the danger isn't immediate and obvious- in ten, fifteen years something bad will happen unless you take on a change now. Or, if the risk isn't guaranteed. I mean, think of smoking- you might very well cause your kid to get cancer, or you might not. It's years down the road. Can you stop, and live with the day-to-day cravings and withdrawal symptoms, which are so much more immediate? And if there's something interfering with a relationship- an addiction, for example- even if it's a relationship with someone you'd be willing to die for without a question, suddenly when it's a matter not of saving their life but respecting their wishes, and that comes at the price of extreme discomfort as you quit, it becomes much harder.
  2. what, seriously? this is so disappointing. I had recommended it to a friend with a mac on the assumption they were surely compatible. D=
  3. Wait, he does? I thought the death scroll didn't work on bosses. Bleh. Lame.
  4. yeah she never struck me as the type to have glamour make up. I always assumed she had blue eyes that veered to purple.
  5. Eh, the box was less random then, you know, shopping trips, reflections about down blankets...
  6. The box… Was a box. It was a very boxy box. In fact, if Lars had had to use an adjective to describe it… Box. Very, exceedingly box. And that was about it. There were no hinges, no panels, nothing he could actually figure out about it. Well, it was a shade of extremely generic brown, but that didn’t particularly help. He tapped on it lightly, and it sounded, predictably, like a box. It was hard and a bit grainy to the touch. He tried shooting off a few spells at it and it remained stubbornly box-like. …Well, this was annoying. And boring. He sat down on the ground with the box on his lap and began to peer at it closely, running it slowly in his hands, carefully running his fingers over every inch of the surface. There. There was a very, very tiny little indentation and it was most likely some sort of hidden hinge- so all he needed to do was cast Decompose- Cast Decompose- Alright, that wasn’t working, so how about… A nice, well placed Lightning Storm. Nothing happened. …He’d try that again. Lightning Storm? Nada. Shouldn’t the box be a smoking, miserable wreck by now? What on earth had they done to it? Well, the indentation had increased by about the thickness of his fingernail, if he looked really closely. Also, it was smoking slightly. Oh, forget this. He was going to time storm it so hard it no longer remembered having been a box in the first place. He drew every last ounce of power together and directed it straight at that stupid little hole. BOOM. The box exploded, bits of it going flying in every direction. He’d gone deaf to anything but the ringing noise in his ears. He wiped the soot out of his eyes and spat to get rid of what had entered his mouth. There was soot all over his clothing as well, he realized in disgust. He wiped at it futilely. Ugh. He looked like a wreck, now. That… Had not been such a smart move. On the other hand, there was a small piece of paper lying on the ground, looking up at him smugly. “Using display magic, express the theme: First appearances, second impressions” said the paper inside. --- Rhen was shooed of to the sidelines, where she got to watch Lars explode his box in his face. She had to struggle not to laugh. “Please use these items to recover your mana,” the attendant said, handing her a pile of herbs and potions. She didn’t actually need them. On the other hand, Lars- storming towards her looking decidedly ticked off- definitely did. She handed them to him with a flourish. “Oh, stop grinning,” he said. “Do I look that terrible?” “No, no,” she said, “You look… you look…” She burst into laughter. “You look great,” she managed, at last. He narrowed his eyes at her. “Really.” He said. “Then you won’t mind if I give you a nice, big hug-“ “Eek, stay away from me-“ She said, but he had already rubbed his sooty hands all over the back of her robe. “…That was just mean,” she said. “Whatever. I’ll just cast a cleanse,” he said, and did so. The soot faded, but not completely. He rubbed on another covey balm and let the mana sink in. “What did you get on your paper?” she said. “Should I tell you?” He said, raising his eyebrows at her. “After all, who says we won’t be competing next round?” “I-“ she began, but just then the final contestant managed, with a gasp, to pry open his box. “The second round will now begin,” the announced boomed. “In this round, each contestant will have a minute and a half to portray a theme they received from their box. The judges have a list of the themes given out, and will afterwards be informed by the contestant which specific theme was being displayed. Interference with other contestants is allowed this round. Order of contestants will be chosen by lottery…” “I got ‘something from nothing’”, she whispered at him. “Thanks for telling me,” he said, smile curving at the edges of his mouth. “Oh, c’mon,” she said. “You have to tell me.” “Nah,” he said. “Don’t feel like it.” “His honorable Sir Akai Verinns will be first,” the Empress said, looking at the powder-blue paper she had drawn. A sharp-eyed, middle-aged man with greying hair stepped forward. He stood very still for a moment. And then in a sudden, swift movement he brought down his sword and the stadium glowed gold and red as a ring of gigantic roses surrounded the stands, before they withered and melted away, producing a black smoke that coalesced into a fiery-eyed stallion, that rode a wave on a raging sea… And then the entire thing faded away, and the swordsinger strode confidently, almost cockily towards the judges panel. “Oh, wow,” Rhen said, miserably, as the crowd cheered. It was painfully obvious to her that she was nowhere near that level. Akai Verinn’s images had been so bold and clear, you could almost feel and smell and taste them. It made her ache with envy. Next a red-haired woman named Feronia displayed what seemed to be a house on fire, although the flames themselves kept changing into other things- faces and pathways and swords and hands, clasped tightly. The judges, when she whispered her theme to them, looked impressed as they scribbled away in their notepads. And then, to her shock, the next name was called. “Lars Tenobor.” He stepped forward, easily, gave her a cocky smile as he walked to the center of the arena, grasping his staff lightly. He hadn’t even bothered to go pale at hearing his name called. He looked around calmly before raising his eyes to look squarely at the Empress. He bowed low, and several girls shrieked. Rhen fought between being amused and exasperated. He closed his eyes, and swung his staff out in a wide, sweeping arc. Mirrors, mirrors, everywhere. She’d seen this before. …Not the part where a thousand Lars’s stepped out of the mirrors, though. And when his face started changing… That was creepy. He turned into a tree. A thin, sickly twisted tree- little more than a sapling, really- times a thousand. Then she blinked and it was one enormous tree in the center, green and covered in… Flowers that turned into sharp, deadly blades, that scattered in a whirlwind before settling, as dried, useless leaves. He gave another bow and walked off to the judges, and Rhen released a breath she had not realized she’d been holding. --- Someone made the entire stadium turn upside down- or seem to. Someone filled the whole stage with water and deep-see fish. A sorceress with blond hair tied back in a braid made a tiny little yellow flower that stayed tiny and yellow until the last ten seconds, when it suddenly flared out blindingly white and looked like the surface of the sun- They’d had to take a small break after that, to allow everyone to recover their vision. And when she was almost at the point that each presentation had blurred into the other, so that she couldn’t feel nervous so much as absorbed… “Rhen Darzon,” the announcer said, and she felt like she’d been punched. She staggered forward shakily- or at least she felt like she staggered forward shakily, although in reality she was probably walking pretty normally as far as people could tell- Her grip on her sword felt weak, and slippery from sweat. --- “This is the Sword of Radiance”, Talia had said, holding out a long, slim object covered in cloth. “It’s a fairy sword known specifically for purification.” “Ah,” she’d said. The implication behind Talia’s statement did not miss her. Well, if it could accomplish two purposes at once… But she hadn’t actually had the chance to wield it properly yet- It had arrived two days before the competition and had remained wrapped up until she’d grabbed it this morning. --- “Well, hello,” she said to the sword in her hands. It hummed pleasantly with magic, but in a much more subdued and polite way than the Sword of shadows had. She’d expected it to resemble the sword of light, but this sword was more humble and deferential. The sword of light liked being noticed. It reminded her more of the sword of dream… or silence… She closed her eyes, could heart her heartbeat pounding in her ears, a dull thumping that seemed impossibly loud. But she wasn’t afraid. No. Somewhere deep inside her, something hard and stubborn and resistant had awakened. She recognized it. It was the same part of her that loved swords, for their resilience and conviction. They were terrifying, yes. But they got what they wanted. She wouldn’t back down. All this was… was another battle. Of a different kind. But she could handle battle. She breathed out and moved, the tempo of her heartbeat the pace she set for her steps, and she let the world fade away into silvery… A bud twirled delicate, gentle in the air, slowly unfolding, petal by petal, uncurling to reveal, sleeping inside, a tiny, delicate dragon that swelled and grew, eyes flaring, two sets of wings sprouting off its’ back, talons raking rainbow sparks through the air- The dragon raised its’ head and sang, low and keening, each note a droplet of magic spreading widening circles in the silent arena (and throwing in a silence spell to let each note stand clearly on its own had been a clever touch). Abruptly it took off from the ground and zoomed, impossibly fast, towards the top of the arena, so that it would impact the roof and shatter- Instead it vanished. …what? She nearly lost concentration. Someone was interfering with her spell. How was this- No no no she couldn’t think about this, right now. She needed to finish the spell. She only had a minute and a half. “C’mon,” she said. “You can do this.” Her sword, at least, was a bit irritated by the interference. She pressed hard against the invisible wall in her mind, and then just as it stiffened to resist her she slipped sideways and squeezed through. The room went dark, and the fireworks exploded- yellow, green, gold, with swirls of purple and blue, in flames and twirls and dragon-eyes. They faded. She lowered the sword slowly, shaking. “Thanks,” she murmured at it, and she headed for the judging panel. She darted glances all around. Who had done it? Who? Had all the contestants been interfered with or was it just her? She thought she saw some of the more senior swordsingers looking smug, and her face flared. “Something from nothing,” she said to the judges, and prayed she saw approval in their eyes, as they bent their heads to confer.
  7. right so in my journey they're not steadily headed towards eachother. they're facing apart, then facing each other but distant, then close. I want to incorporate your kiss but gimp is being mean to meeeee. also I desperately want to get the next chapter up but my muse is being mean to meeeee. And I need to pack. kldfgjlkd.
  8. @daeva_agas: You did. But I was sort of trying to tell a story with the avvie of the progression of the relationship... first they hate each other (matser/slave and student-student... but I felt master-slave better epitomized the nature of their relationship, the cause of their hatred, etc.) then they have a gradually increasing respect for each other over the course of the journey, then they finally fall in love. --- @theone: Lars is no fun if he isn't a bit arrogant.
  9. I THINK I ADORE YOU. no wait I knew that already. (you made their costumes change! you made them change! askflkjdkljg.)
  10. rule of writing number one: if you need to finish a story by a certain (extremely close) deadline, you will not have any inspiration. Fortunately, there's rule number two: If you desperately need to sleep, and it is two in the morning, you will not be able to because of a sudden influx of inspiration from your very charming little muse (who has a sense of humor that only she finds funny).
  11. Sorry if it wasn't clear. In the particular case of the box, once she was able to draw out the magic, she didn't actually have to do very much because it "clicked" into position and opened. (Maybe I'll rewrite it to make it clearer- and introduce a bit of surprise on Rhen's part because I don't think I indicated sufficiently that she was not expecting that) ETA: also that animation is ADORABLE. *fangirls*
  12. probably, but it's a spell specifically designed to have multiple ways of getting around it. Rhen's was surprisingly simple and at the same time incredibly hard to do, so I imagine she got pretty high points for it. however, swordsingers and sorcerors have different spells from each other- since their styles of magic are very different it wouldn't be fair, otherwise. (In this category of the competition you can think of it as the two disciplines being separate categories in the same competition, as opposed to directly competing...)
  13. He said "I saw a dress that would fit you perfectly" or something along those lines, lemme see if I screencapped it- yup, I did: "We passed a seamstress in the eastern district of the city earlier. I saw a gown that would fit you perfectly." My friend and I, back before we discovered the fandom, were a little R/L fandom all to ourselves and we found this hilarious.
  14. I wanted the kids' display to get some more screentime. But I couldn't manage to write up something properly impressive. Bleh. lljdflskj. And I only got around to writing this now because I spent today... doing other stuff. oh well.
  15. She thought that she was far too tense to stand there patiently in front of the crowd while a bunch of students performed. But then she saw Gaden, and Kylie, and Hio. “Oh,” she said. “This is what they were preparing for.” Lars raised his eyebrows at her. “What did you think?” “No, nothing. I just- forgot.” Well, she’d be able to bear watching this after all, then. The freshman classes went one by one, performing synchronized little dances with flares of matching, nothing particularly fancy or impressive. But when the sophomores went, they staged a mass battle, and so Rhen watched Kylie and Hio dancing around each other, before Hio lunged and Kylie melodramatically collapsed- not without first dispatching a flare of (useless display) magic that sent Hio reeling. Rhen cheered as they went out, and Kylie flashed her a thumbs-up. The juniors spread out across the field and created, with massive flares of magic, all sorts of composite images- the empress, the palace, the Veldaran rose… And then they broke apart and reformed, in a pyramid formation, and way at the top… Gaden flourished a sword and magic came flaring out- Rhen felt her breath take, along with every other magic-sensitive person in the room- Sorcery and swordmagic intertwined together, for one brief, impossible second, and then Gaden- pale, shaking, and grinning from ear to ear- was lowered by his cheering classmates. For a moment the room had descended in a hushed awe. Now they cheered, not understanding what they had seen, probably thinking it was a clever trick- And Rhen cheered hardest of all, waved furiously to Gaden, who flushed and waved back. “You were amazing!” She mouthed, as he and his classmates were hustled out, and then the seniors came and gave their presentation, something breathtaking that she barely paid attention to- “Very impressive,” Lars said quietly. She nodded fervent agreement, although she wasn’t thinking of the seniors. --- What next? The crowd had fallen silent, as the students tapered away. The same announcer was back. “As you may know, it is traditional that contestants are not informed in advance anything more than the general details of the competition. What the actual format will be is kept a closely guarded secret, decided by the Empress herself.” There was a murmur among the crowd as the Empress rose, in a small, gilded platform at the height of the stadium. Rhen was expecting her to give an introduction in which she explained the importance, the significance of the event, the pride they must all feel, watching such a marvelous display… But apparently the Empress judged that they were capable of filling in such a speech themselves, because she simply waved her hand gently, gesturing so that a table was wheeled in, covered in locked boxes. “Swordsinging and Sorcery both require natural talent, as well as the practice required to hone that talent into skill. But truly outstanding performance in either requires the careful, thought-out application of that skill. To that end, we present these boxes. Each box has been spelled shut, and it is up to the contestant to figure out how best to open it. Inside the box is information regarding the next stage of the competition, so those who finish first will have the advantage of extra time to plan their approach for the next stage. However, points will not necessarily be awarded based on speed of solution alone- points will also be awarded for signs of clear, clever thinking or particularly creative approaches to the problem. With that said, we will now distribute the boxes- red for swordsingers, blue for sorcerors. Contestants, please descend from the platform to the central arena.” As they began to move, carefully, down the wooden stairs leading off the platform, the Empress added, “One final note. In this particular stage of the competition, it is forbidden to interfere with the other contestants. Any sign of this will lead to immediate disqualification. To facilitate this, we ask that the contestants maintain a clear distance from each other at all times.” Okay. She took a deep breath- exchanged a final glance with Lars- and went forward to take a box from an attendant. The box was surprisingly light. And… squishy. What? But there was no doubting that it gave, slightly, when she pressed it. It had a big lock made of what looked like burnished copper, and no real seams or hinges that she could see. The crowd started cheering, and she looked up and realized that someone- a middle-aged man with a dark beard- had already opened his box. How was that possible? She fought to keep her panic under control. Most of the other contestants looked puzzled or lost or intrigued, but not particularly close to solving the mystery. She squinted at the box, trying to see the magic surrounding it. She had never been particularly good at this. All it did was give her a headache. She knew there was some other way she could handle this, it was ridiculous- But she had never been good at sensing magic! The classes in the topic had bored her, because she never really needed to sense magic to do swordsinging, she’d always been able to simply pick up a sword and intuitively sense what it wanted to accomplish. She’d realized in her time at the Academy that this wasn’t particularly normal, but… Well, why couldn’t she try that again? That was silly. Only swords could talk the way- And that, she thought, was a lie. Like not being able to do swordsinging and sorcery together was also a lie. Once upon a time she’d held a stick and pulled the magic out of it. It was possible. That didn’t make it easy, though- Already she could see that another two contestants had been shooed to the sidelines with their open boxes. And it was clear that everyone around her was concentrating intently- And of course she was wasting time, worrying about everyone else. She breathed out and picked the box up… This wasn’t working. Back when she’d held that stick the rage and indignation had swelled in her like a tide, so that the magic couldn’t help but respond, pulled towards her- Here all she had was a dull, dry-mouthed fear. The box slipped away from her even as she tried to capture it, pin it down and understand it- But she had no one to be angry at, right now. She tried anyway, tried to coax it out- She could do this, she knew that she could do this, but the tiny little steel inside of her was slipping further out of reach. When she’d called out the magic in the stick it was because she’d needed magic right then, needed it to wipe the stupid smirk off Lars’s face. Not that she’d realized the magic would come- She’d picked up that stick and attacked because she had to, even though she was a helpless slave, even though she knew that the consequences could only be dire- a whipping wouldn’t cover it. She’d been helpless as a slave and the magic had saved her. She’d been helpless as a slave. She’d been… She stared down at the box in her hands and felt the conviction well up from deep within her- it wasn’t fury, it was simply, once again, the knowledge that she would have to do this no matter the odds, that she had no choice. Because Veldarah still had slaves. Because they had no magic to save them. They only had her. And so she pulled with some part of herself she’d forgotten existed, and the magic sang into her hands, so she could sense, somehow, that she needed to pull... And the box, like that, was just a box, with an ordinary hinge. She blinked, surprised by how easy that had been. ...Okay. She flipped open the lid. “Using display magic, express the theme: Something from nothing,” said the paper inside.
  16. @theone: what positively insightful comments you made. >_
  17. Consider this to be an advance warning- for all that these upcoming chapters should by all rights be a climax and conclusion to the story, I am thus far loathing them to bits, especially because my writer's block is so rotten and I cannot seem to express anything properly. I'd normally take a break and come back to this later, but we'll have to see what happens if I slog through.
  18. She’d bought a down blanket, sold in a stall with a pink and brown canopy that had smelled like lavender. It was unbelievably comfortable. It was sort of like sinking into warm, smushy, comfortable goodness. Actually, it was like sinking into warm, smushy, comfortable goodness. And it had been on sale! It just made getting out of bed rather difficult. She supposed anything good had to come with a downside… Vaguely she realized that she had apparently drifted off, yet again. Mmmm. “RHEN!” …whuuu? “WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU???” …now that wasn’t nice at all. Someone was pounding at the door. And being incredibly rude about it, too- She sat bolt upright in her bed. The competition! The competition! She was off running as soon as her feet hit the ground, grabbing clothes, food, anything- “Are you out of your mind?” Lars hissed, as she opened the door, panting. “How could you possibly sleep in late today?” “It’s important to get a good night’s rest,” she said, a little sulkily. “Night being the operative word. Night. The sun’s been up for ages.” “Anyway, I’m here now.” “Right. Yes. Let’s go!” He grabbed her hand as they dashed down the hallway and into the street. Once outside they slowed down a little. “It’s fine,” Lars said, in the tone of someone convincing himself. “The opening ceremonies don’t start for an hour. We have plenty of time to get there. Let’s just hurry.” It was rather frustrating, getting from the school to the palace square. The vast rearrangement of the streets in Veldarah- the closing of some, the opening of others- had made an already circuitous route into a labyrinth. They dashed in a southerly direction as best they could manage, then of course had to navigate their way in what ended up being roughly a concentric circle before they managed to head northwards again. When at last they arrived at the central plaza, they were both sorely out of breath. They pushed their way past the gathering crows and made it to the entrance, where a guard stopped them. “The audience has yet to be admitted,” he said. “We’re not audience, we’re participants,” Lars said, flashing their badges. The guard gave their badges a fleeting glance before waving them towards a corridor on the side. “Opening Ceremony’s starting in ten minutes,” he said, in a tone of utter boredom. “Hey! You! No sneaking in!” They headed down the hall and into a room filled with bright lamps, where a lady with with-blond hair handed them both ceremonial robes before rushing off to attend to someone else. The entire room was a flurry of frantic activity. “We have to wear these?” Rhen asked. The hems of the robe had been weighted, so that it was rather hefty to hold- or wear. “It’s traditional,” Lars said. “But you can just put it over your regular clothes.” She did so, fumbling a bit. This whole thing felt surreal. “Are they going to be explaining to us what we’re supposed to be doing?” She said, as she pulled her arm through the other sleeve. This was the sort of robe that did not merely lie on you- it draped. “As far as I can remember, it’s also traditional that candidates have not the slightest clue what is going on.” “Oh. Just great.” “Look at it this way- you’re going to have to go with the flow anyway, you might as well enjoy it.” “Right. Can you help tie this—um-- sash-thingy?” “Sure,” he said, and wounds it around here and pulled it tight- “Ow-“ “Sorry, I’ve only ever done this once, I can’t really remember- Alright, I think I got it. Pray it doesn’t come undone in the middle of the ceremony.” “Wow. Lars. You truly inspire confidence.” “I know, I’m pretty amazing at that.” They laughed quietly, nervously together, and then an attendant came and directed them towards a door and Rhen felt her heart begin to beat staccato in her chest, even as she told herself to be calm, even as she willed herself to be calm, still she could feel her breath catch in her throat. This was ridiculous. After all, the worst that could happen was simply that she’d humiliate herself in front of an enormous crowd of people. But the tension refused to ease, even as she breathed deeply she could feel herself trembling from sheer nerves. Lars put a steadying hand on her shoulder. “You’ll be fine,” he said. “You’re looking kind of queasy yourself,” she said. “I am?” He said, and then- no, she had no idea how he was able to do that- he wiped his face clear, closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again his usual cocksure smirk was plastered across his face. “You look like a smug, arrogant bastard,” she said, amused. “Excellent. Exactly the look I was going for,” he said. “Try it yourself.” “Er,” she said. “Or at least swagger a little,” he offered, as a compromise. “We need to walk out there looking confident.” “Confident. Right.” She took yet another deep breath and managed to walk steadily, at least, while Lars strutted in front of her so ridiculously she nearly laughed- Except then they were out the door and a wall of sound hit her and- She’d known there would be a lot of people. She just. She just hadn’t quite realized how very lot a lot was. Involuntarily she put a hand to her mouth in shock. The stadium was enormous. Gargantuan. And it was crammed with people, row upon row of seats rising towards the ceiling, and the roar of the crowd… “Ladies and Gentlemen,” boomed a voice- now how did they manage to do that?- “may I present the finest Swordsingers and Sorcerors of Veldaraaaah.” “Bow,” Lars hissed, and they bowed, in a whoosh of cloth, some eighty-odd people bowing together- “Are we the youngest ones here?” She hissed, in a panic. “Shhhhh,” he whispered back. “Among the youngest, almost definitely yes” They rose from the bow. A hush fell over the crowd. “And to welcome them here today, may we present- an exhibition from the students of our own illustrious Academy for sorcery and swordsinging!” An endless line of students emerged from some door somewhere and marched into formation in front of them.
  19. "Of course, he was positively spectacular, and the thought of women throwing themselves at him was not strange. (Though the number of women who had actually done so stood at the grand total of one... and she was, at present, sobbing.)" Ahahahaha- oh, Lars. xD
  20. I don't know yet, please stop panicking, it will probably not be a big deal, etc. It depends on what happens during the several-weeks-thing and so I really do not know now, at all.
  21. When they exited the city she walked in front, sword swinging, trying to act confident and focus on the surroundings- she remembered the chickens from her trip to the city and she was not eager to encounter them again. Only of course then he picked up his pace and cut in front of her. She could have ignored it but he threw a look over his shoulder as he did it and she knew it was deliberate. So she walked faster and cut in front of him again, walked briskly without giving him the satisfaction of looking back... He stepped up so close behind her their feet tangled, and she tripped and fell. He snickered, as she pulled herself up, wiping the dirt off her face. She glared at him and imagined every way she could eviscerate him, every way she could... But she didn't. She wiped herself off, straightened herself out, and gave him her very best smile. Because two could play at this stupid little game of his. "Lead the way, Lars," she said, as peremptorily as she can manage. "With pleasure, Peta," he snarled. But he was clearly deflated, and she struggled to keep herself from smiling victoriously. Except of course then they reached the bridge and he planted himself squarely in front of her, blocking the way. "What, Lars?" "Nothing," he said, smugly. She tried to push past him to no avail. "We have to get moving." "What's the hurry?" He said. "You can't be serious. The empress gave us a mission to save the world!" "Oh please. No slave could manage something like that." "...Just move, Lars." He shrugged. "All you need to do, is give up and go back..." She shoved him, hard, and he fell back, so that she was free to stomp over the bridge, taking extra pleasure in making it sway violently so that he had to cling to the sides as he came after her. He retaliated by sprinkling dirt in her hair, until she whirled around and kicked him in the shin, so that he hopped around in agony- and then the rabid chicken attacked. --- "Back off, Peta, I can handle this," He said, staff at ready. And really it was tempting to let him, just to see that stupid, smug look replaced by a more fitting expression- blind terror would look really good on him, she thought. But then he'd just have another chance to blame it all on her, wouldn't he? "Not a chance," she said, and they attacked together, shoving each other to the side, more busy glaring at each other than focusing on the chicken, which is how it managed to slash her right across the belly. "Ugh," she moaned, and doubled over. The chicken turned on Lars, sharp perilous beak raised to strike, and he managed to dodge, just barely, so that it grazed his hand and drew blood before a whirl of magic made the creature crumple over and die. Rhen was still moaning. Lars rummaged around in the chicken's bloody pile of guts, found some wild berries, and threw it at her. "Savior of the world indeed," he said contemptuously, and walked right into another chicken. --- He regained consciousness gasping and flailing. Rhen had taken rather too much pleasure out of holding his nose shut, so she could force his mouth open and ram a Cassea leaf down his throat. He gagged and spit and she stood by, watching smugly. "You little-" he began. "I could have just left you there," she said. He glared at her, unable to respond. --- And when it was her turn to pass out in the middle of battle, he seriously considered leaving her there. Only then what would be the point? It wasn't like he was going on this stupid mission for fun, after all. No, he was here to make sure the little rat was properly miserable. You couldn't be miserable when you were unconscious. (I need to go to bed. Next part will coem some other time. G'night.) (please help catching spelling/grammar/tense errors. i wrote this in present tense then switched it, and i'm also not awake right now.)
  22. I leave thursday. As for fight scenes, "arranging properly" is probably overthinking it. Things tend to happen all at once, so writing in a slightly less organized, stream of consciousness style would fit the scene anyway.
  23. I have a story with everything planned out and it's impossible to write... but since I haven't figured out how to solve that problem I can't really help you. in this story, whenever I'm having difficulty writing something I need to get to, I usually introduce it with some completely random, prosaic, everyday sort of thing. Look back through the chapters and you'll see what I mean. Because once I manage to force the characters to start doing SOMETHING, they'll make their way around to what they need to do...
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