“The coven”, as she referred to herself and her friends, already awaited him at a table with tall rounded glasses not even halfway down. Cielo played with the metal straw of her brilliant light blue drink with her free hand, Aurora took a small sip from her colorful orangish yellow drink, and Katia moved her hands around her tone down green drink.
Navy smoothed his shirt, circled the waistband of his pants, and readjusted his rolled-up sleeves. The green eyes of Katia landed on him and she waved. He cleared his throat, waving back, and looked at Cielo when she turned, her face brightening. He sighed.
He approached them.
<Let me guess your drinks,> he signed as he spoke, stopping at their table. He glanced at their glasses and looked at Aurora, the tallest of them all. <Spicy honey limeade?>
“What the fuck?” She chuckled, looking at her friends.
Navy nodded at Katia. <Matcha mojito?>
<Is that easy?> She lifted a corner of her mouth.
Navy, then, passed to Cielo, who looked up at him with bright brown eyes. He swallowed and wet his lips, smiling. <Blue Lagoon?> He raised his eyebrows a third time.
She pushed him with a smile. “You already knew them, I told you earlier!”
Aurora scoffed and rolled her eyes. “So you're a charlatan.”
Navy laughed, shaking a finger side to side. “Not at all. I was making an entrance and a memorable first impression.”
Aurora deadpanned. “That you busted.”
He gasped and pointed. “Cielo did!”
Aurora shook her head. “You took advantage of it.”
Navy sunk between his shoulders and looked at Cielo, who showed heart-fingers to Katia interpreting to her.
Katia kept her smile tight. <They both are looking at you to side with them.>
Cielo turned to them and smiled, bringing her glass closer to drink a long sip from her light blue mocktail. “She’s right.”
Aurora clapped. “Ha!” <Love you,> she signed to Cielo, blowing her kisses.
Cielo chuckled.
Navy touched Cielo’s shoulder and she looked back up at him, her face even more brightened. He inhaled. <Let me tell you: I’m wounded.>
“Who cares?!” Aurora extended her arms to the side and Katia stopped one from smacking her face. Aurora smiled at her, touched her head, and turned back to Navy. “Actually, who the hell are you?”
Navy stood straight. <My name is Navy Blue->
“I didn’t ask for your name,” Aurora crossed her arms. “I asked who the hell are you.”
Navy lifted an eyebrow and a hand. “I was going there.” He breathed. <My name is Navy Blue,> he eyed Aurora, who rolled her eyes. <And I am Cielo’s lover.>
Cielo gasped, covering her face with her hands. Katia choked while interpreting. Aurora brought Katia’s glass closer to her without looking away from Navy, lifting her eyebrow.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re excused.” He tilted his head towards her.
Katia sipped from her green drink.
“That’s not…” Aurora grimaced, stretching her arm toward Cielo to tap on the table.
Cielo shook her head.
Katia leaned forward to join Aurora.
Navy changed the weight of his feet, looking between them. “What’s happening?”
Cielo moved some fingers from her face to look at them.
“What were you trying to say?” Katia asked him.
“Why are you reacting like that?” Aurora asked Cielo.
Navy frowned. “Friends,” he repeated the sign and Cielo’s blush intensified. Aurora lifted both her eyebrows. “Is something wrong?”
Katia bit her lower lip, her smile tense. “This,” she showed him, “is friends.”
“Oh,” he blinked. “Then what did I say?”
Katia cleared her throat.
Cielo kept her head down and imitated his sign. <L-O-V-E-R-S.> She looked up at him between her lashes, cheeks all red.
He flushed and turned around on a full circle. Cielo looked away. He cleared his throat. “I will, uhm-” He coughed. “Go order my drink.” He left the table behind.
Aurora and Katia watched him go away, turned to each other, and glanced at Cielo before breaking out laughing. Both of them piled one hand on top of Cielo’s and she as well laughed to the seat.
Another tear slid down his cheek. His smoked eyes kept locked on her wine red ones, a trembling smile the end of his tears’ race. His throat bobbed against the sharp end of her falchion and a quick exhale escaped through his tight smile.
He wetted his lips with the tip of his tongue. “I swear,” his voice trembled, “on you, who are my goddess.”
She reaffirmed her grip on the falchion. Her back straight, her eyes watered. She held his glance and he whimpered.
“Can’t you trust in what we have had all this time?” he pleaded.
She looked away and separated her lips.
“If you’re going to say you can’t, do it while looking me in the eyes,” he demanded.
She gasped and looked back at him. He had leaned forward a smidge, cutting the skin of his neck; the edge of the blade tinted red with his blood, a red line slid down his neck under his shirt.
She widened her eyes and whipped her arm to the side, throwing the blood on her falchion to the tiled floor. He rose from a knee to a foot. She frowned, spinning her falchion around her wrist. He halted with tight lips when she brought her arm back, the blade threatening the side of his neck.
“You dare to play me?” She narrowed her eyes.
“Never.” He straightened his back. “I just have to make you see!”
“I’m seeing you clearly.”
He closed his eyes and threw his head back, groaning. “Not now! How can I make you see it was not me?” He looked back at her, his smoked eyes storming once again, “Why would I hurt you?”
“How would I know?” she lowered her voice. “Apparently, I don’t know you at all.”
“NO!” He tensed closer to the blade. “That’s not true!”
She tilted her head. “How are you going to prove that?”
He lifted his eyebrows, the smoke in his eyes stopping. “I’m really sorry I never told you before, babe-”
She closed her eyes, frowning, and her head jerked towards her shoulder. “Really, the worst moment for you to-”
“-I have an identical twin.”
She opened her eyes and straightened. Her eyes looked down at his rapid breathing. The darker half circle protruding at the side of his right eye. The red horizontal line on his neck and the red tears that escaped from the cut.
“What?” she whispered.
He swallowed. “It might have been my twin brother.” He gritted his teeth, “But I swear to you it wasn’t me.”
She tilted her head to the opposite side.
She withdrew the blade from his neck and stepped back.
She turned, spinning the falchion around her wrist with every step away.
“… Jess?” he whispered.
She stoppend and turned back, a scowl disfiguring her face. “I’m going to kill the bastard.”
His dark face paled and his smoked eyes widened. “What-” He wetted his lips. “What did he do?”
“Apart of the charges I accused you of,” She gripped the handle of her falchion. “He kissed me!”
He rose to his feet in a swirl of smoke, the handcuffs falling to the floor. He marched past her, a scowl of his own; veins popped in his temple, jaw, and neck, his fist tight close.
She watched him pass by, turning and following him with her glance. And blinked. He opened the door and stopped to look back at her.
“Are you coming?” He kept his voice level, but a growl escaped at the end.
She raised an eyebrow, dropped her arm, and tilted her head. “I will still kill him,” She approached him, the tip of the falchion scratching the floor, and stopped a deep inhale to touch him, looking up at his angry face. “But to see you like that?” She bit her bottom lip, purring, and exited their house.
You're about to read an unedited preview of the second chapter of Ethienne. You can find the first chapter on itch.io.
Rapid pulses.
Quick breaths.
Slow exhales.
Blood rushing down.
Wetting lips.
Rearranging clothes.
Readjusting positions.
Lips moving. Lips moving. Lips moving.
“She…”
“… Takeshi…”
“… and Flash…”
“… last night…”
Every single person looks up, to me. And I’m not even between them, being surrounded by them, and still my breath locks outside of me.
I gasp for the air I can’t get inside. Their faces may be blurry, but I know their eyes are set on me. Their lips still moving, still moving, still moving trace every one of my movements.
The memory of his hands bruises the spotless skin they see. Goosebumps mark their way upside; from the side of my sole, into the golden ankle bracelet, up my naked leg, under the waistband of my black semitransparent high slit skirt, within the three golden dots around my navel, inside the semitransparent black with golden long sleeved mesh crop top barely covering my breasts, overwhelming my throat and spreading to the sides of my neck like a ghostly hand.
I run.
My bare feet hit the invisible plank made of my vibrations and I let them lead me to an empty street. I cut the plank to jump behind a building, the golden bracelets at the end of the sleeves seize my wrists with the impact a centimeter of the ground.
I keep the height for the new invisible plank to protect my soles from the gravel and start walking.
Until I see something familiar.
The logo of the place of last night's hamburgers.
It's too quiet for it to be open, but it's not locked so I push the door anyway. The dim dark lights force me to squint my eyes; dark mahogany, reserved air, private even with the open space. No surprise Jessenia likes it.
“We open at five,” the man behind the bar announces.
He's the only person.
I approach him.
Black skin. Silver white bro flow wavy hair. Wine red gems earrings. White marked shirt with rolled sleeves.
Wide smoked eyes.
“E-Ethienne?!”
He clears his throat, backs a step, and bows.
“Please,” I smile.
He straightens.
I see why Jessenia likes it.
“The restaurant is closed, miss, but whatever you would like-”
“You cook?” I sit in front of him.
“I'm the chef,” he holds his hands, with a small towel, in front of himself.
I point at the bottles behind him with my head. “Just pour me a drink.”
He changes the weight of his feet. “Aren't you on duty, miss?”
I widens my smile, intertwining my hands. “Not really, I was just gathering data. In any case, fun fact:” I wink at him, “alcohol can't affect me.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Is that so? Then, please, allow me.” He turns and grabs some bottles, making the whole spectacle of juggling, mixing, and pouring drinks.
“I didn't order yet.”
“I would bet you will like it,” he pushes the glass under my hands.
I raise a brow, lifting my eyes from the drink to look at him. “What you would bet? Those garnets of yours?”
He lifts a hand to an earring. “You know what those are from a glance?”
I shrug, fishing a small block of ice. “A woman has to know her precious gems,” I hold the block of ice between my teeth.
He looks at my mouth with a straight line on his lips, changing the weight of his feet; he clears his throat. “I won't bet my garnets, they are especially important.”
I show my teeth with my smile. “I bet. I do a date.” I slip the ice into my mouth and down the drink on one sip; my waist-long hair warms my back once again.
“A-A date?!”
I get up, placing the glass on the counter.
“But- Miss-”
I go back to the door with a small smile.
“Miss Ethienne? I'm not interested in that date, miss!”
I chuckle and open the door. “I know! Did Jess ever told you to what she pairs the garnet with?”
His surprise is over all his face, and I don't even have to see him to know it. That being his strongest reaction tells me everything I would have wanted to know.
And Jess has a lot to say next time we meet.
Many days later…
“Why did you do that?!” Jess laughs.
“I don't know, I'm sorry, I panicked! And it's hard to turn off all those years of performing a persona! It's like my cursed talent, I couldn't help it!”
“You made him uncomfortable,” Jess chuckles.
“He's the first one ever,” I take a sip of my glass.
She stepped into her reflection, turned, and placed her hands under her flat belly. Sweeping her blonde hair behind her shoulder, she smoothed her gray tank top, her hand curving the slightest onto her belly.
Her honey eyes watered and she sniffled. “Hi,” she whispered.
She blinked her tears away, her nostrils flared, her breath quickened, and she swallowed.
A pair of arms enveloped her and she leaned into him, closing her eyes and sighing.
“Hi to me too,” he smiled.
She chuckled, resting a hand on his arm. “Yeah, hi to you too.”
He kissed her forehead.
She smiled and looked up at him, stretching an arm to put a brown lock on its place. “There,” she mouthed, returning her head to his shoulder.
He tightened the arm around her waist and moved a hand to her belly, touching air. He straightened, his body tense, and blinked, finding nothing between his arms.
He looked at his green wide-eyed reflection, his three-day beard, and wrinkled shirt. At the sleepy tiny baby wrapped on their yellow blanket on his arm. At the black line on the ring of his left ring finger. At the bobbing of his throat.
His eyes watered, and he blinked his tears away. “Hi,” he whispered.
Milo had never met so formidable an opponent as a blank canvas.
He slouched before the pristine white square he had thrown on his easel—now in the corner of the library, on a grubby little island of drop-cloth. His laptop sat quietly on the kitchen island, emanating ominous vibes from the to-do list still drawn up there.
But yesterday’s illusion had been an overreach; he needed a day without magic. So, here he was, with a cup of tea and a half-decent sandwich and an incredibly evil, empty canvas.
He painted one single brushstroke and immediately hated it.
“Don’t judge me,” he muttered to the presence in the room. “I swear I went to art school.”
at some point in your life you will be boiling fruit, water, sugar, and lemon juice in a pot to make a syrup or jam. the instructions will tell you to simmer for a certain amt of time. your timer will go off and you will look at the pot and go, "hm, this doesn't look thick enough. maybe i'll let it go for another 10 minutes." this is the devil speaking. it's only so liquid right now because it is at boiling point. it will thicken when it cools down. learn from the follies of my youth and do not let this happen to you
at some point in your life you will be making a sauce or a stew in which you need to add cornstarch to thicken it. and you will prepare a slurry of starch in cold water and think "this looks like way too little starch to thicken this amount of liquid." this is the devil speaking. cornstarch instantly polymerizes at 95°C and if you add too much it will turn into an impossibly thick goop.
at some point in your life you will be making some sort of cream based dessert that requires gelatin to thicken it. and you will soak some gelatin sheets in water and think "this is too few gelatin sheets for this amount of cream." this is the devil speaking. it will thicken in the fridge and if you add too much you will end up with milk jelly
at some point in your life you will be baking cookies. you will take the sheet out after twelve minutes as the recipe instructs and the cookies will still be glistening and soft. "these don't seem cooked enough," you will think to yourself, "i should place them back into the oven until their edges are nice and golden." this is the devil talking. this is how you get dry, overdone cookies. the cookies will continue to bake on the warm sheet for several more minutes and then harden up after sitting on a rack for a while. trust the process. trust the process.
Editing all the previous posts in the Masterpost is such a hassle, I just went through all the posts in the Patreon collection and gave them some minor adjustments to correlate to the last update of my private folder. It was... hard work, and those are just a few posts.
Anyway, Linney's Campaign is now only on Patreon. I'm not on many other platforms anymore, and I actually left Patreon unattended for a while, but came back. Ahem. I just finished scheduling the rest of Linney's first day in the valley, which includes four more posts that are going to be live weekly starting today (the first one of those four should already be live), and a short extra of the start of the second day I never continued.
Now, the reason I'm not gonna keep playing with Linney is that I already know their story. I didn't leave any mystery to the playability, and knowing what it's going to be about doesn't make it any more fun.
While writing this, it occurred to me to write a Linney Afterworld talking about their life after I stopped writing. I don't have ALL the details, just those I was interested in during playthrough, and as the rest of the campaign, it will be free to read if you follow me on Patreon. Though if there's something you're curious about Linney, you can ask me, and I will make sure to include that answer there as well.
@aziz-reads, @cilly-the-writer, thanks for following through on this playthrough. I appreciate your interest in my writing.
"you're the writer, you control how the story goes" no not really. i wrote the first sentence and then my characters said "WE WILL TAKE IT FROM HERE" and promptly swerved into an electrical fence.
I have absolutely no idea what the hell happened here or which genres merged, but this sounds like some possible romance at the start, but delves into some kind of fantasy by the end, and she's so raving on violence that... it involves action too? I don't know, but I have a sense of who she is between my rooster.
Used a mix of 2 Dialogue Prompts and 2 Narrative Prompts, neither third worked well within whatever this is.
Short story under the cut.
Words: 177.
“I'm not going to be one of your memories,” she poked his chest with a finger.
He grabbed her by the wrist. “Then don’t.”
She yanked her arm free. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You're getting ahead of yourself a bit, aren't you?”
She imitated him. “Am I?”
He smirked. “That would mean we’re more than what I thought we were.”
She glared and pushed him, ripping the steel from the stone and throwing it at his feet.
He dazed at her, inhaled, and wetted his lips. “Fuck,” he mouthed.
“Don’t you dare misunderstand how this works here,” she demanded.
“Works amazing for me,” he whispered. “Don’t you mind working me too?”
She stared at him and pointed behind him with her chin.
He chuckled and turned, stretching his body. “I don’t mind being the one doing the work either.”
Steel scraped against the stone behind him, and his body strung taut. He drove his shoe clean through the window.
pixelskylines
snowghoul
titsay
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areudirty
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