Hello everyone, my name's Alina (Twenties, female), and if I'm not studying I'm likely on here (or writing, lol). I've had this account for a while now, I use it for posting my stuff as well as the lovely writings of others.
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for this week's @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt!
word count: 1,037 (lol)
this is best described as if Eshani got shoved back in time to that night ten years previous to A Healing for the Birds, only for an alternate outcome to occur.
as such, one could say there are potentially major spoilers for A Healing for the Birds, if by spoiling what didn't happen
ao3 link
—
A moonlit night. Crisp to the touch, the trees still not from a lack of breeze, but from bated breath.
Eshani opened the window, with dread in her heart and sorrow in her memory. She knew this night from the way her single flame lingered in the air.
A moment if any for an eclipse.
Her young daughter curled up in bed, nestled by bright bedsheets and all manner of soft things. Her breathing flowed in the rhythm of a tide, one Eshani yearned not to break.
“Love you.” She kissed her forehead, tucking a strand of wispy dark hair behind her ear.
She made for the window and glanced back once.
When the birds were free she would have her day.
Eshani teleported into a grove where hope died.
Her amour held hands with a lady who fondled him in one, and grasped a vial of pink liquid in the other.
“Cerigo, you don’t want this.” One step, after the other, her rush towards him hollow.
“Don’t tell him what he wants.” The lady’s grin veered on exceeding her face.
She uncorked the vial and slid it down Cerigo’s mouth, his opening without hesitation.
“Stop it!” Eshani seized an empty vial. Her hand shuddered, heat rising to crack the glass amidst the other lady’s cackling laughter.
“How romantic,” the air went humid from her words. “You made this mad dash all the way here just to save him. How cute, how touching. You know there’s no prizes for being a hero in a story that’s not yours?”
“What have you—“
Cerigo gasped, going to the ground, with her doing the same as she offered a hand.
He shivered and convulsed, his jaw clenched as he huffed out.
“Please, stay with me, I’m not leaving—“ She raised his mouth from meeting the grass.
Bones and joints cracked.
“Hey.” He gripped her forearm, his hand squeezing hard enough for his fingers to dig into her skin. “I did this for a reason— for my nephew. You are not, and I mean it, not to do anything reckless. Just get out of here.”
“Cerigo.” Her throat went warm, her voice wavering. “I’m not leaving you.”
“Go home already!” She worried he’d break her arm, squeezing it hard when he screamed for the birds to wake.
Not a single crow swirled.
Eshani yanked her arm from him and gave the other lady a single, solemn glance.
Her laughter echoed as she vanished home.
The next morning, she arose to find no plants dangling from her ceiling nor extra doors for the rooms tied to her bedroom.
And no sign of the crow lady sitting at the end of her bed.
She awoke to her old home, humble comforts, yet hesitated with every step. Each door opened, each wall seen, all things she feared would rewrite her memories.
In the hall stood a full length mirror. Eshani saw herself in it, still in the grass-stained red dress she wore last night. Her right calf lacked the ribbons wrapped around her left, the former drooping to the ground from a tear.
If she reached out… she found the cool of glass there.
The rest of the day passed as previous ones did. She savoured the extra time with her daughter, stolen moments she shouldn’t have.
If this change went on for the full duration of ten years… she shuddered to think of who she would be at that point. What would happen to Cerigo, to Cheyoria, and the rest of Helinda should the Chalice get stolen here too.
That night she found a small canister on her windowsill. She opened it, finding a gel scented of jasmine.
A handful of flowers got placed in haste and exchange.
She took a breath the next morning and pledged to deal with this reality. Her daughter and her trade needed tending to, and so she would let them flourish.
Nighttime brought exchanges of gifts on the windowsill. She contemplated sending a note, yet her hand did not dip on the page.
She left another gift that night.
The next morning, she glanced in the mirror again. She saw herself, her reflection bearing a red dress made of silk. It went to her ankles, and she flipped around and gasped.
Her reflection bore the Mark she once had— and indeed the dress she wore the day she met her fellows.
Eshani put a hand to the mirror. She closed her eyes as she pressed into it, finding the reassurance of glass.
“Cerigo, I hope you’re alive and doing well. I hope your nephew gets better, and that your family find the closure they deserve. They should be proud of you, as I am.
“Cheyoria, I love you. I always will as I always have. These extra days I have been given are a gift, and I need you to know— I’m sorry. I know I failed you and I know this is my chance to make things right. And if I don’t get to go home, to my timeline, at least I have you.”
Her tears pitter-patted onto the mirror and the floor. One, then another, a small few as the rest melted off. “I’m sorry. I know I’m doing my best, but I don’t belong here. This is not my timeline and this is not my home. Just let me return, to where I need to be.”
She let out another sob, grateful that no one was around to hear her.
“Dearest fair maiden, what brings you here?”
Eshani raised her head of a shot. The mirror bore Namon in its reflection, holding a hand towards her, of which she took.
“Tch, you always seem to know where to find me.”
He rubbed his fingers over her knuckles. “Maybe it’s not just me who’s predictable.”
She laughed, and laughed more when the words wouldn’t come out.
Namon’s face bore no such thing. “Come here.”
“Huh-“ She got pulled into his embrace, trying not to droop her head into his shoulder.
“Shh. I have you. I’m not going away.”
Eshani drooped her head, grimacing as her heart flooded out. “Curse you, why do you have to be so, missable?”
“I could ask the same of you.”
—
Tagging the General taglist for this: (ask/comment/reblog, etc if you'd like to be added or subtracted): @mr-orion @the-ellia-west @thereadingfoz @glassstardust22124 @honeybewrites @ashirisu @drowsy-quill @seastarblue @gioia-writes-and-others @rae-butter @corinneglass @rainbowsnowflake @fourwingedwriter @oddcryptidwrites @ark-inkweaving @bardic-tales @agirlandherquill @wyked-rebellion @oc-writing-corner @kingragnarok-writes @darkluminosity @the-narrator-plague @traderotales @lizardperson
I know Tumblr is full of posts about the virtues of commenting on AO3 fics and such. But like. It works.
I just knocked out 8.5k words in one single day for a chapter update because of one reader leaving one of the most absurdly endearing comments I’ve ever gotten. That is unheard of levels of productivity for me.
The power of the fandom. The power of the comment.
fandom: original work
rating: g
wc: 1057
prompt: #fff366 broken time for @flashfictionfridayofficial
note: so i almost never write original stuff that isn't connected to my normal established ocs in some way (the last time was #fff299), but today i was in the mood. unfortunately i was seriously struggling with the word count...
---
Bowie scans the coffee shop display case for the next item on the list. Hm, hazelnut muffin… They're usually not huge on nuts. But oh well, why not. They order one with their usual coffee and make their way outside.
When they pass the bench in front of the shop, they squint. They're pretty sure that woman there should be standing in line for coffee now, right? They check their watch again. Very weird. Bowie eyes her for a second - she does look slightly distressed, quietly talking to herself. Let's get to the bottom of this.
They sit down at the other end of the bench, and the woman doesn't even seem to notice them because she's so busy muttering. All Bowie can hear is 'impossible' and 'going crazy'. They carefully sip on their coffee, then take out the muffin and break off a small bit. Yeah, they can confirm they're really not a nut fan. Ew.
"Hey, uhm… are you okay?" Bowie finally asks, brushing some crumbs off their lap.
"What?" Startled, the woman looks at them, then nods unconvincingly. "Yeah. Totally. I'm fine. Great, even."
"Because you don't seem fine." The woman frowns, and before she can protest, Bowie starts babbling away. "And yes, I am aware that it's none of my business, and I'm just some random stranger who is currently disturbing your little freakout, and if the roles were reversed, I'd be pretty annoyed probably, so if you'd yell at me to fuck off I'd totally get that, but - supposedly, I'm a good listener, so you could tell me what your problem is, and maybe that'll help. Or not, I don't know," they shrug. The woman's frown gets deeper. "Oh, also, I have an almost-whole hazelnut muffin you can have, if that would cheer you up," Bowie adds, holding up the paper bag.
"Why don't you eat it yourself?" Yeah, maybe it's a little suspicious if a random weird stranger suddenly offers you food.
"I don't like hazelnut muffins."
"Then why did you buy it?"
"It was next on the list."
The woman still frowns, and Bowie holds out the bag to her. She hesitates for a moment, then finally grabs it.
"Thanks," she murmurs, digging out the muffin and nibbling on it. "Ugh, I love those things." It does seem to calm her down a little, which is good - at least the thing has some purpose now.
"What's your name?"
"Lilly."
"I'm Bowie." They pull their legs up to their chest and watch her inhale the muffin. "So, what's going on?"
Lilly swallows her last bite and grimaces. "This will sound really, really weird. Like, psychotic break-level weird."
"Okay," Bowie shrugs, unimpressed.
"Like, I'd totally understand if you'd just get up and walk away. Or make fun of me or something."
"I won't. Promise I won't judge."
Lilly sighs and tries to collect herself for a moment. "I think I'm in a time loop," she finally states quietly.
"Huh."
"Told you it sounds crazy."
"So, how exactly did you come to that conclusion?"
Lilly gives them a look. "Well, because I wake up every morning, and it's the same day again."
"Yeah, that's fair." Bowie makes a face. "How long has this been going on? Like, how many times did you do today already?"
"I'm not sure… A week or so," Lilly replies, a little sheepishly. "Probably two."
Bowie stares at her for a long moment, processing her words. "How do you not know how many times you've repeated the same day?"
"Because I only just realized what's going on! Or like, I had some suspicions yesterday. Today? Yesterday. But now I'm really, really sure."
This time, it's on Bowie to frown deeply. "You didn't notice for two weeks that you've been repeating the same day over and over?"
"My life is very… homogeneous," Lilly says, a little exasperated. "The days kinda blend into each other. I get up, go to work, come home, watch some TV or something."
"And the same TV program every day didn't tip you off…?"
"I don't pay that much attention to it!"
"…or that the weekend seemingly never came?"
"Workdays constantly feel like that! The last weekend is always ages ago, and the next one never arrives!" She crosses her arms in front of her chest. "You said you wouldn't judge!"
"Sorry. Just surprised, I guess."
They're both quiet for a bit, sorting their thoughts.
"So wait, you believe me?" Lilly suddenly asks. "About the time loop?"
"Yeah, of course."
"Why?"
"Oh, because I'm in one, too. Sorry, should have mentioned that sooner, maybe," Bowie replies with a shrug.
"Seriously?" Lilly stares at them, mouth agape.
"Yeah, that's why I came over to you in the first place. Because usually, you stand in line for your coffee at this time, so that kinda tripped me."
Lilly blinks, still processing. "So for how long have you…?"
"Oh, for like two years now."
"Two years?!"
"Yeah!" Bowie beams.
"And you never found a way to make it stop?"
"Why would I? It's awesome!"
"Repeating the same random Wednesday for who knows how long? Enduring my boss's exceptionally shitty mood again and again? The same boring TV program? Just on and on?"
Bowie raises an eyebrow. "You don't have to go to work. It's not like there's consequences."
"…huh." That apparently hadn't occurred to Lilly yet. But it definitely is one of the main perks. "So what do you do all day?" she asks.
"Oh, right now, I'm chipping away at that twenty-part book series I've been meaning to read since forever. And I'm brushing up on my Spanish. In the afternoon, there's this drawing class I go to, although I'll need to find a more advanced one soon, it's getting a bit boring. Also, I'm working through the treats menus of the surrounding coffee shops. But sometimes I just chill in bed all day and watch movies if I'm feeling lazy. There's soooo many movies I've never seen! Or I take a long walk on the beach - the weather is perfect for that," they list excitedly.
"Wow." Lilly looks slightly impressed.
"Seriously, there's so much to do. The sky's the limit. Well, the day," Bowie shrugs. "Still. It's pretty cool. Like a super long vacation."
"Time loop vacation, huh?" Lilly murmurs. "Guess I'll start making a to-do list…"
---
lizardwriting pinglist [ask/comment/dm to get on it]: @voidthing @ark-inkweaving @aalinaaaaaa @tales-from-nocturnaliss
Hello, tumblr! I saw something on here the other day that worried me, so I decided to Do Science about it. But I can't do it alone: I need your help to build the dataset!
Here's what I need you to do:
If you see a post with a "mature content" label, and it's 2026, DM me a link to the post.
Yes, that's really it.
I am hoping to collect several thousand such posts, so that I have a decent sized dataset. I do not care what the post is about; if it's labeled as "mature content", I want to add it to my dataset.
If I get 10,000 posts in my dataset before August 31st 2026, I will post my preliminary findings then. I won't feel comfortable calling my findings "settled" before 2027, unless I get over 50,000 posts.
“I swear it was yesterday that it was your ceremony.” Alycja smiled, jerking her head back as her sister tightened the second of her braids.
Her sharp fingers brushed off the back of her scalp, a welcome distraction from her thoughts.
Tonight would mark Alycja’s ceremony, the moment she would get her first rune on her right wrist and become seen as capable in the eyes of her faith.
She knew the prayers, she knew the rites. Words were a certainty.
The outcome was not.
“Just wait until you’re my age, life flies away so much faster.”
Alycja tried not to focus on the outcome a few hours away. “You sound just like the adults.”
Both of them laughed. “I basically am one, though.”
“Haha, you proved my point.”
“You’re going to do fine, I just know it.”
“What makes you think I won’t?” She jerked her head back as Emila started on the third braid.
“You’re not normally this quiet.” A gentle silence fell upon the room. One of the candles on Alycja’s desk flickered, its faint, golden light reflected in the mirror.
“Girls, are you nearly ready yet? The rest of us are waiting downstairs.” Their mother knocked upon the door.
Alycja shuffled some of the items on her desk into a drawer, while her sister finished off the last of her braid.
Just as her sister called, their mother walked in, her burgundy wings flush with her elegant, gold-lined dress of the same colour.
She presented a box to Alycja, engraved with carvings for spells imbuing good health and fortune.
“I hope you do us proud tonight.” Alycja opened the box to find a stick of blackwood, highlighted by motifs in gold paint — her mother’s syrchel.
She hesitated, taking it to hand and admiring it. “I promise I will.”
She twirled it around, doing a few circles in the air and ending it with a sharp motion to her right.
“Be careful with it.” Her mother warned.
“I know.” Alycja slid it into the pocket of her dress, its pink and orange fabric a bright highlight on her bronze complexion. “Thank you.”
Upon the box’s corner, she caught sight of her best friend’s signature, her suspicions about the art style confirmed.
As the three of them descended downstairs, Alycja’s throat bobbed with disbelief.
Tonight would be the ceremony.
And tomorrow the day she would get to have her own syrchel made.
May Galista’s fortune be upon her.
—
“Gah, bloody hell.” Eshani offered a hand to the stumbling fellow, who waved her away as he swayed upright.
Her efforts landed the pair in a familiar place, where leafy oaks split ivy-and-flower clad houses from those who dwelled in the trees — birds, sprites and a select few others, their homes but elaborate nests interwoven with each other.
She knew this place but knew it not.
“Before we continue,” Eshani leaned down to whisper into his ear. “I will need to ask you not to disclose anything you saw nor experienced in Morilaste to anyone. Is that clear?”
“Who are you to demand two things of me?” He squirmed in her grip of his shoulder, unable to escape.
“You’re certainly in a position to talk.” She smiled, magic glistening in her eyes. Moments passed before he stopped moving, his brow now furrowed.
“Fine.” He grumbled. “But in return I get to ask about your identity.”
“We can talk about that once the Chalice is mine.”
She loved the way his face squished with his thoughts on show, resembling an angry bunny. “That’s not a part of our deal, please answer my question, honestly.”
“You agreed.” Eshani smiled a moment more, relenting her grip on him. “Now, if you would do me the honour, Monsieur.”
He glared up at her, muttering another phrase she assumed to be a swear.
With a gesture, she followed him through the streets she once knew.
Trees dangled overhead, some brimming with apples, others tinged red and orange.
Two turns landed them in a small plaza, where various sellers peddled fabrics, trinkets and satchels of herbs.
Her guide stopped at one of the stands, picking up a roll of bandages. “How much for this?”
The cloaked seller gestured a clawed, withered hand to the wrappings on his left arm. “Of course, dearie, may I assess what ails you?”
He offered it, shoved by Eshani. “Please forgive us, but we are in a rush. I hope you can take this as payment.”
She pulled a gold coin from her pocket, engraved with flames as heads and a phoenix as tails.
“I seek more than mere gold. What else might you offer?”
“My blessing.” She said in a flat tone. “One blessing only, courtesy of me. Flip the coin onto your left hand, and so I shall appear.”
“May I ask anything of you, dear?” The seller’s eyes bore a dark shine.
“Just one task or item, as a one-and-done affair upon my summoning. I will not take to more complicated quests nor affairs.”
Nails tapped upon the wood, before the seller nodded. “That sounds acceptable. You may take the bandages and go.”
“We appreciate it.” Eshani smiled and curtsied, before giving a single look that made her guide hurry on.
Not many faeries stood here. Of those who did, she noticed those tilted towards her, eyeing her up, her standing a flame in the shade.
The next lane had no one around.
“What was that for?” The two of them leaned against the walls, facing each other.
She watched as he pulled out a stick of hazel tipped with quartz, tracing it along his forearm to strip the original fabric. One extra slit started the roll of bandages.
“Fancied another debt, did you?” Her eyes went to his wounds. “You’re welcome.”
“That lady could’ve healed me, you know! I don’t need you pushing me around.”
“Count your blessings you’re not in that cavern.” She gave him a pointed look, her mind bearing the image of him getting questioned and prodded by her fellows. “What made you seek it out in the first place?”
“Who exactly are you?” He looked up from applying the fresh bandages to glare at her.
Eshani swallowed her laughter at his audacity. “What makes of you? I find it curious we are bound for a religious temple.”
“Nice try, Madame.” His brow knotted, scrunching the little rune at the end of his right eyebrow.
She noted the speed and proficiency of which he applied his bandages, as he sealed the end of the piece he cut off.
“The wrong hand was burned, it seems.” Magic blazed in his hazel eyes, flaring with his grimace.
Birdsong chattered, masking a bang in the distance. She glanced between him and the street a number of times.
“Your fellows must be worried sick.” She gestured to the street, where he pressed off the wall and started walking.
They wove through winding lanes and forest paths, stopping at a small clearing.
The stone ground reminded Eshani of a sunset, pink and orange bricks split by white stones at various intervals, leading to the Majkra Ljkoren as the grand centrepiece.
Intricate glass windows stood above the entrance, embedded also along the side walls.
She followed as the fellow directed her towards a small, brown door by the southern end, shoving a few bins to the side.
They entered a corridor, of which most of its doors lead to shelves and storage cupboards.
“Are you fully sure it was brought here?” The tips of her fingers got sharp and clammy. Heat rose from around and within, increasing its crescendo to match Fate’s twisted melody.
The fellow opened the next door, hit in the face with the aroma of chamomile and cinnamon as a few ladies sat around a table sipping on herbal teas.
“What are you doing here?” One of the ladies approached him, gripping his arm while meeting Eshani’s gaze. “You should be upstairs.”
“Is the relic here?” He ripped his arm from her, stepping to the side.
“Why do you need to know?”
“It’s an emergency.” The lady’s eyes went to his forearm, frowning.
“Well we can attest to Galista that we don’t have it.”
“Much obliged.” The pair rushed down the corridor, their footsteps masked by carpet. Round lamps lined the walls, giving a soft, magical glow.
They turned a corner, and another, facing down another straight.
In front of one of the doors stood a man in a purple suit, almost the full width of the door.
Eshani looked to her guide, who looked up at her for a full moment before nodding.
No one else ventured down these halls. Only them, the hall deserted.
“Did Aster pass through here?” He said.
“I’m not in a position to tell you that.” The guard crossed his arms, glaring at both of them. “The folks inside aren’t letting anyone else in.”
“I was with him!” He gestured towards the room. “The meshaika trusted me — trusted us to retrieve the thing. And I got burned in doing so, let us in.”
“Hmm.” The deep grumble of the guard’s voice was the only sound, as the silence simmered.
She stood firm, poised, waiting.
“What’s your name?” Panic flashed on his face, glancing between her and the guard.
Eshani crossed her arms.
He gulped. “… Baakszour.”
The guard opened the door ajar, stating the fellow’s name. Various voices responded, all in the same language Baakszour muttered in.
“Right.” The guard faced them again. “You may come in.”
Baakszour went through the door, while Eshani met the guard’s arm in the way. “Where do you think you’re going, miss?”
“Excuse me.” Her eyes flared for a moment. “If it weren’t for my efforts, this fellow here would be languishing at the bottom of a cavern. I saved his life.”
“That’s nice, but you’re not getting in.”
She grabbed his arm and teleported around, now on the other side. “Says you.”
Eshani smiled as she shut the door in his face.
—
Alycja stood at the foot of the queue, reciting spells in her head.
Peers in front and behind her waited as she did, on the cusp of doing the rites which would earn them their first runes.
She twisted her mother’s syrchel in hand. To both sides of her sat the crowd in pews, whispering amongst themselves. On the right, her family took the front-most pew, her best friend and her father there too.
Torches flickered alongside the end of the pews, leading towards the grand flame upon the altar.
She remembered the day of her sister’s ceremony, where she gradually snuffed all the lanterns as she moved up the queue, reigniting them when she made the stage.
Alycja muttered a prayer for her own spell to work.
Whispers fell to a hush. From the stairwell at the front of the altar emerged two men in purple robes, who took their place in front of the central torch.
“Greetings and blessings to everyone,” Meshai Rhesjan spoke first. “We stand on the cusp of a special night for our young people queued before us.”
Applause erupted from those gathered. It echoed throughout the temple, ringing out Alycja’s thoughts.
When everyone settled, Rhesjan started speaking again, going into a prelude about youth and the unique challenges ahead.
She supposed he had a nice enough voice, the type one could fall asleep to during his rambling, or indeed a distraction from the inevitable.
The queue firmed up with his concluding words, a gesture of goodwill on Galista’s behalf.
She shuffled a few steps forward.
Watery statuettes splashed from the top of the queue, followed by various feats involving smoke, flames and plants.
One boy set his outfit aflame to reveal another, earning applause which reached the arches.
She smiled in awe.
A few rows ahead, she waved back at her sister, who smiled and did a gesture for success.
Five people stood ahead of her.
Alycja’s heart lurched. Pounding, pulsating, its beat strong to the point of thrumming beneath her feet.
The other meshai presiding over this ceremony whispered into Rhesjan’s ear. He held a single note in his hand, and one curt nod had him turn on his heel and go downstairs.
Four people ahead of her.
The lad at the top of the queue — Nadir, a friend of hers — whispered to the lad behind him, only to get shushed by Rhesjan.
“What’s going on?” Alycja whispered to the girl in front of her, only to get a shrug in return.
Nadir completed his spell and bowed, heading to one of the acolytes to receive his rune.
The central flame flickered. Three people left, becoming two.
Alycja glanced to her right. Her best friend turned around, holding a piece of paper with what looked to be a chalice on it.
Loud bangs boomed in the distance. A sudden crack, and the bang of bricks.
The girl in front of her said her spell in a blink.
Alycja took to the stage in the shadow of applause. Its echoes faded, clashing with the bang and shudder of her heart.
“Whenever you’re ready, Miss Cartovierta.” Meshai Rhesjan said, making a gesture of blessing. “May you have Galista’s favour.”
She closed her eyes, and breathed, holding her mother’s syrchel to her right. “Between this world and the next, I reach out in good faith. Speak to me as I seek you in earnest—“
A large, bony hand shattered the left-most stained window, a giant skeleton and a murder of crows bleeding in.
Screams echoed around her. “I summon the Allaitri Chalice!”
—
Conversations trailed off as all eyes went to Eshani. Two men in plum, embroidered robes stood at the table, along with one fellow in white robes — the thief she saw earlier.
“Who are you?” One of them asked, placing a hand near the Chalice gleaming on the table.
“Without getting into semantics,” She sauntered over to Baakszour, placing her left hand on his shoulder and her other hand to his throat. “I’m the lady who will decide this acolyte’s fate right here and now.”
“We don’t deal with trespassers.” The same man said, while the other purple-robed man wrote a note and sent it through a gap in the ceiling. “Let him go, or there will be consequences.”
His throat throbbed beneath her hand, heat boiling through his skin.
She gave her adversary a grave look. “The terms are simple, meshai. Hand me the Chalice and I will free your sub-ordinate, his wounds healed and all.”
“And if we don’t?”
She smirked, grabbing his forearm. “I’ll burn this fellow’s right arm and dangle him like fish bait.”
Another fellow in purple robes burst in, walking straight to the other two as they discussed the matter.
“You’re despicable.” Baakszour said, as she reverted her right hand to his neck.
“Anything for the cause.”
The three meshaika turned their attention to them, where some drifted their hands toward right-hand pockets. “Feel free to keep the acolyte, the Chalice is ours.”
Eshani bit her lip. The Chalice started to taunt her.
“Are you sure you wish to do that?” She relaxed her grip on him, eyeing the people around her as they pulled syrchels out. “You have the burden of war on your hands.”
“We’re giving you one final chance.” The lead of the trio emerged from behind the table, facing her. “We’re not relinquishing the Chalice. Leave.”
The guard opened the door, poised to remove her.
“I gave you my terms.”
The Chalice wavered off the table, knocking the guard out cold as it flew out the door.
Eshani leapt over his body and up the stairs, the clatter of footsteps sharp behind her.
She emerged into an atrium shattered. Crows crowded the arches, stained glass shattered on the floor.
At the altar stood a girl in orange robes, holding the Chalice.
Eshani rushed, scrambling, reaching her arm out.
A girl in dressed in purple teleported the relic away.
“Cheyoria, no!”
She froze, meeting the upward gaze of her former flame. Neither of them relented, a cool silence blurring them in the moment.
“Isn’t this a surprise.”
“Of course it’s you looking for it.” He crossed his arms. “Just tell me what’s going on.“
Bones fell to the floor, some collapsing near the altar.
The meshaika and acolytes emerged from downstairs, coalescing with the rest. One of them avoided a white dropping from above.
Her heart raced, taking a single glance at her amour before she directed her focus to the end of the aisle.
“Get down.” Eshani snapped her fingers, sending all but the central flame out.
A woman shrouded in a cloak of crow feathers emerged from the oak doors, her expression hewn in ice.
The crowd hushed to shrouded whispers and pointed stares, even the meshaika turned around after felling the skeleton.
“What is the meaning of this?” A meshai she did not see downstairs went over to her, only for Eshani to put her arm in front of him.
“Relax, I’ll handle it.” Her breath hitched. The crows landed, the Chalice vanished, she was so close, she was so far—
Now the crow lady ascended the altar, her head raised in expectation of Eshani’s whispers.
She told her about the thieves, putting extra emphasis on the actions of the meshaika.
“And what of it now?”
“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “It got stolen again.”
“Explain yourselves!”
Eshani flicked a flame to deflect the meshai’s attack.
Gasps emerged as the skeleton clicked back into its towering form, among pleas and attempts to collapse it again. It made for the same window it emerged from, and strode into the night.
“To everyone here,” High Councillor Emar turned to face the crowd, a raven perched on her shoulder. “I know some of you might be worried, scared or shocked. For that I cannot blame you.”
“Who are you?” Shouted someone in the crowd, Eshani gesturing them to hush.
She flicked another burst of magic away, inciting the raven to shift into human form, as did the other crows who formed a half-ring around their lady.
“Would you like the truth?” Silence fell upon the hall. “You have all been deceived, in that your meshaika and their fellows have stolen the Allaitri Chalice.”
The crowd erupted, demanding questions and explanations.
She caught sight of the meshaika’s protestations, and bit down a laugh.
“For as long as the Chalice circulates, the skeleton will follow.”
“People of this gathering,” Eshani stepped forward. “I know you have many questions, but here is an answer. To whoever gives the Chalice to one of us, we will give you one wish in return, of almost anything. Furthermore, the skeleton’s rampage will end. We hope you come to the right decision.”
The crows swirled and brought them home.
—
Tagging the General and A Healing for the Birds taglists for this: (ask/comment/reblog, etc if you'd like to be added or subtracted): @mr-orion @the-ellia-west @thereadingfoz @glassstardust22124 @honeybewrites @ashirisu @drowsy-quill @seastarblue @gioia-writes-and-others @rae-butter @corinneglass @rainbowsnowflake @fourwingedwriter @oddcryptidwrites @ark-inkweaving @bardic-tales @agirlandherquill @wyked-rebellion @oc-writing-corner @kingragnarok-writes @darkluminosity @the-narrator-plague @traderotales @lizardperson
If Eshani was to write a journal (she doesn't, because she would worry of someone coming upon it), this would approximately be what it looks like:
—
The Day the Allaitri Chalice Got Stolen, 1734
This will be remembered as a day of history, one over three thousand years in the making.
All this time the Chalice was locked away, and for what? Bragging rights? A bargaining chip? A pawn in some agreement I never heard of?
The burden falls on me to find it. By sunset tomorrow a meeting will be called and I will face the questioning of my fellows.
How many of them knew? Did any?
I have much to answer for.
Both sides of the border now contend with this moment of history.
Arobyre reels of the skeleton’s damage, while we reckon with the Chalice’s theft.
I suspect Cl Lady Emar seeks the thieves to be put on trial, and thus I ought to seek information to prepare the case.
There are more immediate matters for my attention. But as to how I balance my heart’s desire with the new landscape, I will be figuring that out too.
I was but a hand’s length away. Twice.
To think I could have prevented the start of this cycle had I just got a hand to it —
There is no point in ruminating on an outcome that did not happen.
Tomorrow is another day.
Premise: post the first lines of your 10 latest pieces of writing, and tag ten (ish) people
—
Blood Where the Covenant Ends
An ailing child approached the door to the Majkra Ljkoren, palms up and eyes pleading.
A simple line for what should be a simple process... what a shame there are crows, creatures and the odd skeleton in the way 💀
2. Unripe Debts
“Unripe mangoes…” Eshani crushed one of the offending mangoes between her thumb and forefinger, its flesh and juice spilling down her hand.
I tried for a tone of casual horror here, the way full-sized mangoes (to us) could just be smushed so easily between her fingers :0 [insert one of her compatriots and it might not be mangoes getting crushed 👀])
3. A Playful Splash of Fate
Rooks and ravens weren’t known to mix.
Where I'm from, rooks and ravens don't mix for different reasons... we don't have ravens :(
4. How Not to Follow the Instructions
With a note and an instruction, Charimone twisted and turned through corridors.
poor girl, instructions and technicalities are going to be the least of her worries by the time A Healing for the Birds starts [*ahem* ;) 👀]
5. Under Death's Duvet
“We have a victor.” The adjudicator’s voice rang out.
this was a continuation from the piece previous to this, accentuating how dazed Nepheret was after everything!
6. A Healing for the Birds - Chapter One
“How fortunate are you not to land in the court of crows?” Eshani presided over a noble trembling before her, awaiting her divine judgment.
chef's kiss, i re-arranged scenes and even cut Alycja out of Chapter One so this could be the first line! I'm really pleased with this one, it's one of my favourite lines for sure 😌
7. Voices From Beyond the Veil
“Imagine we got to summon, I don’t know, that dead principal from a few years ago.” Alycja said, while burning a four-pointed star into the grass.
Don't count out summoning dead principals, worse things (could) have happened (like the original first draft of A Healing for the Birds where Alycja accidentally summoned Eshani to her ceremony!)
8. A Note About the Inevitable
The ambassador stared ruin in the face. It stood in corporeal form, a broad, imposing man whose influence outweighed hundreds of men, his hands having forged and crushed many a destiny.
Just you wait, Namon, just you wait, hehehe 👀😈
9. The Gathering of Snakes
Najsha unfurled the curtain on her ceiling, finding a crow and a rattlesnake perched in wait.
*insert the Pink Panther theme* this line seems suspicious and I love it
10. Reflections
Eshani looked into the mirror. It wasn’t her.
Introducing the very lady who wears other people's identities like coats 😎
—
Here is an open tag for everyone reading this, plus tags for @ceribrennanwrites @traderotales @bardic-tales @winterandwords @savvyminnow @ark-inkweaving @thepeculiarbird @writingingraves @nightmaricwriter @darkluminosity @alintalzin @eccaiia and @writingrosesonneptune
name:
meaning of name:
nicknames/titles:
age:
gender:
location:
birthday:
strengths + example where it's shown:
weaknesses + example where it's shown:
how it affects others:
emotional depth
attachment style + how it manifests in the story:
physical fear:
emotional/abstract fear:
happy memory:
sad memory:
object of significance:
philosophical outlook/belief:
what characters are ignorant about themselves:
how confident are they:
goal:
long-term dreams:
what they're embarrassed/ashamed to tell others about:
regrets:
source of pride:
source of misery:
what they admire above all else:
do they believe in fate:
personality
mbti:
enneagram:
big five:
character archetype:
star sign:
who they pretend to be on the outside:
who they actually are/how they feel towards the mask:
mental health conditions:
how it manifests for them:
iq:
eq:
humour:
reputation:
habits
bad habits:
mannerisms when stressed:
mannerisms when content:
mannerisms when scared:
mannerisms normally:
verbal mannerisms/distinctive speaking style:
how do they move across a room:
what do they say and what remains unsaid:
how they express love:
hobbies:
appearance
defining features:
eye shape + colour:
hair texture + colour:
skin texture + tone:
vibe:
height:
build:
clothing:
any bodily disfigurement (scars, etc.):
overall attractiveness:
their opinion on their appearance:
appeals to:
relationships
who they trust most:
what they wish they could do for them:
what's holding them back:
who they hate most:
what they wish they could do to them:
what's holding them back:
relationship with the protagonist:
relationship with the antagonist:
siblings:
relationship with them:
parents/step-parents:
relationship with them:
previous broken relationships:
why did it break:
what others expect of them:
who believes in them:
their mentor character/who they look up to:
political/religious/other affiliations:
what makes them different from every other character:
non-human relationships + why:
romantic "type" + why:
relationship dynamics:
backstory/background
primary emotion towards their past:
primary feelings while in their past:
where did they grow up:
defining incidents:
earliest childhood memory:
saddest memory:
happiest memory:
major accomplishments:
their opinion on it:
notable people in their backstory:
effect on them today:
trauma:
what have they already lost:
financial circumstance:
progression
why are they important (eg. why're they the only one able to do something?):
what do they learn about themselves throughout the story:
what do they learn about the world:
how do they feel towards their newfound knowledge:
character arc (positive, negative, neutral):
how relationships change because of their actions:
what mistakes do they make:
what scene is their character highlighted:
do they get what they want:
why or why not:
what happens to them after the story ends:
for this week's @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt!
word count: 958
there will be blood imagery below
ao3 link
—
An ailing child approached the door to the Majkra Ljkoren, palms up and eyes pleading.
“Who are your parents?” Asked the acolyte at the door, bearing a list of names and signatures.
The evening veered closer to nightfall. Night’s breeze went to a still, its gentle silence broken by scutters in the shadows.
The child coughed a few times, their voice faint and weary. When they stated their parent’s names, the acolyte took a quill down the list and opened the door.
Next up, another child approached, of teenage years and ailing not in his lungs. He stumbled and shuddered with every step, tears forming in their eyes. “Please, may I come in?”
“Who are your parents?” The acolyte asked, his throat hoarse from the question stated on repeat.
“Why should that matter?” The teen said. “Your temple is offering divine healing, I just need one sip. Please.”
“We need to know if you or your family are on this list. I can’t let you in otherwise.” The acolyte stood there alone, and wished otherwise. Most of his fellows stood in the warmth of the temple, in the embrace of fiery torches and community.
“Why can’t you let me in?” The teen stamped on the ground. “Not even a drop brought out here? This isn’t fair.”
The queue piped up behind him, some whispering amongst themselves, others directing their words in response.
“Who are you?”
“Chancer.”
“Someone put iron on him!”
The teen turned to glare at them all. “I’m growing weaker by the day! How dare you!”
“You heard what the meshaika said, they’re only taking people of our faith.”
“Have some compassion.” The rest of the queue firmed up at the words of the person behind the teen. “This lad is as deserving as the rest of us. More deserving even, going by some of you.”
“Who’s to say this is not one of them?”
“One of who?” The person narrowed their eyes. “Go on. Spill it.”
“I’m not a crow! Go away.”
“Prove it!”
The teen made towards the one who said that, their fists crumpled, stopped by the person behind him. “Stay here.”
“Acolyte,” they continued. “Would you have the decency to let this child in? Or give them a vial, even? This impasse is truly abhorrent.”
“I cannot.” The acolyte shook his head, his expression firm but sombre. “These are my orders. If I let even one person outside our community in, we will have the entirety of Helinda on our doorstep by tomorrow. I hope you understand.”
“I’m a good person, I swear.” The teen’s shoulders slumped. His legs wavered, hollow and unsteady, poised to fall at any moment.
The adult behind him showed the acolyte the rune on the underside of his wrist, before putting the same hand on the teen’s shoulder. “Wait here.”
The teen saw the acolyte grimace, opening the door for the adult without another word.
“You have blood on your hands.” He muttered, as he sat upon the stairs in the cold of night.
People gave him a variety of strong words and gestures, all in Seldaikan, a tongue he didn’t know. When he got better, he pledged to return their animosity.
Or maybe he would court the crows’ favour and get them to do it.
An hour spilled as eternity. He curled his arms around his knees, and drooped his head.
He didn’t care.
He didn’t care if he got claimed by the cold, or the night, or the crows themselves.
He didn’t even care if a High Councillor whisked him away and did crows-know-what to him.
A hand landed on his shoulder. “Hey.”
The teen rose his head in a fright. The same man from earlier stood beside him, holding a vial with Chalice water. “I admire your patience considering everything.”
“What would you like from me in return?” He braced himself for an awful sting, a cost so great his soul would cost less.
The man waved his hands. “I don’t expect anything from you. Just take this vial and have a good rest once you get home.”
He looked between the man and the vial, eyes wide. “I, uh- I deeply appreciate this. Who are you?”
“That is not important.” He adjusted the scarf over his jacket. “May you get home safe.”
The teen uncorked the vial and chugged its contents, his whole being seized in the sharp tang of divinity. He wondered if it would lift him into the air, raising his spirits, banishing the weakness which once plagued him.
He stumbled upright, his tongue tingling. None of his muscles cried out in pain, nor did his legs waver. One step, and another. What a crying shame his destination was sleep.
He walked, and dashed, and bounced home.
When he got into his room, he heard banging on the other side of his curtain. He hesitated, yet reached out, gliding it open.
A crow flapped outside his window, holding a bucket in its beak. Dark, red liquid sloshed in it, making him wonder.
The stench upon opening said window confirmed his suspicions.
Three more crows appeared beside it, their caws almost… friendly.
Before he could react the trio swirled around him, landing him before the very doors of which he was denied entry.
A pair of towering, oak doors split him from the temple. Strong metal handles hung from them, with more metal bolts embedded around them.
He looked to the crows beside him, and realised of a flash he had nothing to repay them with.
The teen dipped his hand into the bucket of blood, recoiling at how it dripped, the way it stuck to his hands.
Upon the doors he pressed his handprints.
The crows left him with the bucket.
—
Tagging the General taglist for this: (ask/comment/reblog, etc if you'd like to be added or subtracted): @mr-orion @the-ellia-west @thereadingfoz @glassstardust22124 @honeybewrites @ashirisu @drowsy-quill @seastarblue @gioia-writes-and-others @rae-butter @corinneglass @rainbowsnowflake @fourwingedwriter @oddcryptidwrites @ark-inkweaving @bardic-tales @agirlandherquill @wyked-rebellion @oc-writing-corner @kingragnarok-writes @darkluminosity @the-narrator-plague @traderotales @lizardperson
*cracks knuckles* I'm going to take this opportunity to explain my philosophy for naming a certain septet of my characters (Eshani, Claudia, Orlaith, Namon, Ordune, Najsha and Affril)
... I picked those names based on what I felt was befitting of them when I first had the idea (I was sixteen years old at the time lol)!
In all seriousness, these seven characters fill a role in my works that is essentially false divinity. Each of them murdered their way to get where they are and the mundane nature of their names reflects how they were all ordinary prior to their ascension. It's a form of irony nearly that the very septet feared by a court and a country all have ordinary names and origins.
It is also notable that the names fall into the 4/3 pattern that has emerged for various facets of their lore/who they are. Eshani, Claudia, Orlaith and Namon are all names you'll find in real life, while Ordune, Affril and Najsha are names I made up :D
₊˚⊹ ㅤa collection of character analysis/headcanon questions to learn more about your character and your partners'! writing/headcanon prompts requested by anonymous. feel free to edit these as you see fit.
[ 🖐️ ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat do their hands feel like: soft, calloused, trembling ?
[ ☂️ ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they crave touch or fear it ?
[ 🎐 ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they have a sound, like a song or voice, that they associate with peace ?
[ 🕊️ ]ㅤ.ㅤwhen did they feel the safest ?
[ 💤 ]ㅤ.ㅤhow do they sleep ? curled up, sprawled, holding onto something ?
[ 🦇 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat is a fear they never talk about ?
[ 🔒 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat is a secret they’ve sworn never to tell ?
[ 🪢 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhen was the last time they broke a promise ?
[ 🫳 ]ㅤ.ㅤwho do they feel they owe, but never paid back ?
[ 💼 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat do they always carry with them ?
[ 🧨 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat’s the quickest way to set them off, even if they hide it well ?
[ ⛓️ ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat does guilt feel like to them ?
[ 💢 ]ㅤ.ㅤwho have they never forgiven and never will ?
[ 🩸 ]ㅤ.ㅤis there something or someone that, if lost, would break them ?
[ 🌧️ ]ㅤ.ㅤis there a pain they refuse to heal from ?
[ 🪞 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhen have they looked at their reflection and hated what they saw ?
[ 📿 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat superstition or ritual do they cling to ?
[ 🌊 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhen was the last time they cried ?
[ 🐾 ]ㅤ.ㅤdo animals like them instinctively ?
[ 🪶 ]ㅤ.ㅤhow do they laugh ?
[ 🫀 ]ㅤ.ㅤwho taught them what love is ? did it hurt ?
[ 💭 ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they believe they’re worthy of being loved ?
[ 🎀 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat is their main love language ?
[ 🔦 ]ㅤ.ㅤwho do they search for ?
[ 📜 ]ㅤ.ㅤis there a story they love sharing with others ?
[ 🌒 ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they have a dream or goal they have given up on ?
[ 🕯️ ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat memory do they replay when they’re alone ?
[ 🌪️ ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat’s the one choice they regret (not) making ?
[ 🧩 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat’s a truth about themselves they refuse to admit ?
[ 🍻 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat kind of drunk are they ?
[ ✉️ ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat kind of letter would they write but never send ?
[ 🗡️ ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat is a scar that they have but never talk about ?
[ 🕸️ ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they have a favourite lie they like to hear ?
[ 🪦 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat would they want on their gravestone but never admit aloud ?
[ 🎱 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat kind of future do they crave, and who’s in it ?
[ 🌀 ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they have a recurring dream or nightmare ?
[ 🍃 ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they feel like they belong ?
[ ⚓ ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat does “home” mean to them ?
[ 🧭 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhere would they go if they could disappear tomorrow ?
