Phyne; She/her; born in 2001; a writeblr from a learning artist (everything is art!) P.S. If I reblogged any of your content that you don't want shared or reblogged anymore, feel free to send me a message
Hello people of the internet! A wild, young woman enters the scene and decides to storm in this tumblr community.
First, I would like to thank you for stumbling upon my page, and I do hope you stay and follow me throughout this process!
A Little Introduction about me:
My name is Phyne. I’m a budding writer, actually wanted to for a long time and had the passion but never the initiative (I know some of you understand how this feels!) I was fond of reading since I was a child and was met with wonder about stories, that I decided I wanted to be part of them. I still do (even though I said I never had the initiative), that’s why I aspire to be a journalist. Some of my interests including reading (of course, and a diverse range of materials from novels to comics and articles), collecting memorabilia, shopping (If I have enough money that is!), Watching TV shows and anime, and writing.
I created this blog mainly to become an outlet for my thoughts, share it to the world, and actually push myself in honing my hobbies. This marks the beginning of the days where I actually start to take action instead of imagining it all in my head. In a way, having a blog and creating content will push me to materializes these ideas.
What you will find here
I mostly write #Prose, occasional #Poetry. My comfort zone is usually fictional genres mainly High fantasy and science fiction. Still, depending on my inspiration I can delve on other genres and in different forms such as #Short Stories, #Prompt Fill, and #Prompts.
I also have this mini-interactive writing project called #Open Drabble. This one is kind of a concept I thought that would help me engage with all of you. Open drabbles are like short stories, instead I write them in a whim and given with little context, whereas short stories are basically complete itself. This is where you come in, anyone can put context on the drabbles and try to complete it, basically like a longer prompt already. Completing it isn’t necessary to understand it, but it would make it more interesting! Be sure to tag me if you do!
So yeah, that’s it for now! Until the next post! 🌟🌟🌟
My WIPS
1. In Death Forever (Follow through the tag #In death forever by Phyne)
Status: Drafting
- Intro post
1. Karikultura (Follow through the tag #Karikultura by Phyne)
Status: Completed
Status: book 1/3 started, successful NaNoWriMo 2023 project
Summary:
Like two sides of one coin, the human world and the Other, inhabited by magical beings governed by the Fairies, have always been close but unable to touch each other – save from a few leaks and weak points. Until one day, someone is predicted to change that; a maiden, who will make the walls between the worlds collapse, sending both of them in chaos. Caturix, proclaimed Queen of the Fairies, vows to destroy that future threat. Thankfully, another prediction completes the first one, speaking of a saviour, another maiden who will kill the other. Caturix and the Fairies set off in search of that saviour in the human world, and find a child, a princess, barely a few weeks old, whom they save from another malevolent Fairy's curse and adopt amidst their own. One hundred years later, that child, Roisyn, has grown, and lives in the capital of a human realm, awaiting the time when she will fullfil the prophecy Caturix and the others have placed so much faith in. She works for a human prince, Brennan Bhanrion, as his Younger Weapons Master, Second in Command and many other things, and the years have tied the two of them in a close friendship. But one thing will soon change; one thing which will rock both of their worlds and lead to decisions that may well put them in danger, from the human world and the Other alike...
Elevator pitch: Sarcastic Sleeping Beauty meets trans Snow White, they become friends and live on to spite the gods
Main characters:
Roisyn Nifhacail: main character ("I" speaker), Sleeping-Beauty-inspired character; because of her role in a prophecy, she was cursed to die as an infant by an evil Fairy but was saved and raised by a group of Fairies (more specifically Niamh) and taught the Language. Now lives with Niamh in the capital of Camanth, at Brennan's service as a knight and Younger Weapons Master. Brutally honest, great swordslady, Brennan's best friend.
Brennan Bhanrion: trans Princess of Camanth, the story starts before her transition; she's her mother's favourite thing, much to her own despair. Has little to no information about her father, her mother Cerridwen, Ruler of Camanth, raised her on her own. Very skilled with weapons, big softie but tries to hide it (unsuccessfully), Roisyn's best friend.
Aldyon Eusantias: first son of Duke Aeinor of Wyrrichia, a domain neighbouring Camanth. Big brother to three small children and he is Tired. Likes plants (forest, gardens, flowers), bad jokes and archery. Might have a secret.
Esme Solas Muir: second daughter of King Hafgan of Sàmhraidh, a domain neighbouring Wyrrichia and allied to Camanth. Raised with Carragh, she has all the braincells Carragh doesn't. Likes reading, animals and spending time away from her older sister Ghrianne.
Carragh Muir: adopted third child of the royal family of Sàmhraidh, she was found on a beach and brought to Queen Moira, who decided to adopt her after nobody came to reclaim her and raised her alongside Esme, who was the same age. Carragh loves her hand-axes, strong beer and puppies.
Cerridwen Bhanrion, Ruler of Camanth; Brennan’s mother
The Fairies: after a conflict in the Otherworld and the flight of the previous Ruler, the Dagda, Caturix, Fairy of War, claimed their ruling position. Other important Fairies are Niamh, the Seamstress Fairy, Aìne, the Fairy of Sovereignty, and Cernunnos, Fairy of the Woods. The one who cursed Roisyn is named Cailleach, her domain of power is unclear but wide, ranging from curses to the passing of time.
Character intros: TBA
Links to tag games about BW: TBA
Other stuff: TBA
Taglist (let me know if you want to be added/removed!): @rose-bookblood ,
*I do not own any of the images used in the moodboard, all came from Pinterest and can hopefully be traced back to their original source from there
She paused. What was that feeling when a tidal wave came crashing down on you? You think maybe you can swim to the surface, you can make it. But the waves keep coming and you’re spitting out salt water like poison. You realize you were never meant to be here; you’re wrong. You were never meant to think you could conquer the waves. You were never meant to be right. You were never meant to fight back.
“Only myself.”
She responded, after a long silence that already answered the question.
well, a claude request?? thank you for it, pal. ahh, i think you expected something else. . . however, it'd be over 1k if i did that, sksksk.
so, this is a character study of a particular thing about her. 🌠🌠🌠
send me a prompt? for any oc, dynamic, fandom characters, concepts.
Word Count: 330
T.W/C.W: None
***
It should be a shock that Claude still got allowed to be invited to parties. For someone who had gotten in trouble wherever she went, she still hadn't gotten banned.
Technically, she would do something drastic to be prevent any offer of invitations. However, she wouldn't do it unless she went to a stranger's party.
She did mostly attended parties where any close friend of hers hosted it. Whether it's Cisco or Jing-Fei, she only went with a purpose to catch up with her friends.
Having long-distance friendships could be a challenge. Travelling to outer space had been more frequent than staying at her home in San Francisco. Yet she relished how the effort paid off in her experience. Knowing her friends had things going on made her proud.
They might be busy, however, she did her best to communicate. Check in on them whenever they might be virtually active. Sending texts in between of some 'jobs' and travels.
So, if she would go to a party, it would be for them. Even though, she didn't do much. Just observing others dance, drink, or party, basically.
Claude didn't dance much unlike in her early twenties prior to the accident. She drank in very specific occasions, preferably avoiding it whenever she could.
However, things could get a bit too much and she began sneaking off when it did. Retreating to a vacant room that didn't have any crowd. Trying to let her mind drift into any random thought.
Having a companion to sneak off with proved to be a bonus. That way, she could have a one-on-one conversation without any noise to disrupt it. Or sharing a silence, basking in each other's company.
To sneak out of a party completely. . . she did it rarely. As long as she dropped some hints before walking out. She did it if there hadn't been much going on to stick around for.
Yeah, she snuck off whenever she knew she could or felt like it.
Thinking about time loops thinking about time loops thinking about time loops
"Why would you go back?" "why would you do that to yourself?" "Doesn't it hurt so much?"
You don't understand you can't understand you weren't there you didn't experience it you don't know
It hurts but it's all I have left it's going to be better next time I know it I know it even as the knife goes in my back again even as it stays the same I know it's going to be better because it can't keep going this way
It gets better it gets better it getsbetteritgetsbetterITGETSBETTERITGETSBETTER
I have to get out I need to stay
just one more loop, just one more loop, just one more loop
day after day after day after day after day after day after day after day after day after
it's always the same, but there's still that glimmer of hope, isn't there? Because it's gonna be different, just one more loop
just one more. just two more. just three. just ten. just fifty. just a hundred. just one more loop.
"Doesn't it hurt?" isn't the hurt all I have left? There's comfort in the repetition the repetition the repetition. How could there not be? In here you don't have to face out there. And that hurt is much, much, more painful
The same pain over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again dulls over time, even while it takes more and more each loop. But out there? That's new pain, that's a change in schedule, that's something different, and you don't want difference, do you? That's why you're here isn't it? Desperately hoping for the next loop to change, when the change is out there. You know it's out there. Deep down the repetition is comforting, the blade in your back keeps you steady, you wouldn't want to face the unknown, would you?
Oh it's beautiful? Well it hurts just as much, and you know it. You know you can't face it out there, with no one to help you, none of that disconcerting familiarity. The familiar pain is oh so much better than unfamiliarity, isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it?
You can keep going around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and hope it changes, the only change that will happen is if you make it. But you're not willing, you're too easily taken in by the familiar, comforting, pain.
It's so much easier to hope for change than to work for it. Just one more loop, right? One more loop, right? One more loop one more just one one one one one one
Just one more loop and I'll get to the end of the circle, one more loop and there's something different, right?
You can get out whenever you want, but you don't want to, do you? You don't want to, you don't want to
You can stay here forever, right? You can stay here forever. You can stay here forever. You can stay here forever. Stay here forever. Stay here forever. Stay here forever. Stay here forever. Stay here
"Why don't you just leave?" I can't, you don't understand, I tried, I can't, I don't want to, it hurts so much, but out there? Out there it hurts even more
Don't ask me how I know, because I don't. I only know what the time loop told me and it told me I can't leave, it told me I don't want to, that it will hurt, that we're already so deeply connected that to escape would kill us both. You don't understand, it hurts too much. You haven't died the way I have, you haven't lived, haven't hurt, haven't seen what I've seen.
Let me out, please let me out, please let me out, please let me out, please let me do it again, please let me do it again, please let me do it again, please let me do it again, please let me do it again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again I can't leave just let me leave let me loop let me leave let me loop let me leave let me loop let me leave let me loop
Don't go, don't go or we both die because too much of ourselves is contained within the other, I can't leave you and you can't leave me, a self sustaining system
You're me and I'm you and I can't leave without killing you and I can't kill you without dying in the process
NOTE: There will be a section after the chapter that is a set of information. It will include Senese translations and phonetics as well as various world-building info relevant to the chapter.
CW: Violence, death, brutality
What would you do to protect your freedom? Fight? Die?
Who would you be willing to fight? Who would you be willing to kill?
For the sake of your free will, what master would you serve?
My name is Aurum Verilin, and I was forced to answer these questions time and time again. I served for eight years as a soldier in Sen, fighting against the Ferusian military in an effort to conquer their land and claim it as ours. The rich mineral deposits and precious metals would have been enough cause for my country to invade, and yet they were not the justification we gave.
No, that would be 'preemptive action', a claim by the Shogun often paired with stories of Ferus mustering forces to attack our homeland. The truth could not be further away. We weren't fighting to stop some planned attack, or to protect our way of life. This was an unprovoked assault, a genocide. One I'd decided I would take no part in.
An order disobeyed, a superior killed, and my brothers-in-arms wiped out for my refusal. But when ordered to turn my magic on Tangkorak, those creatures most closely in tune with the world, most attached to nature, I could not bring myself to do so, and had said as much.
I stood there, staring at the man I'd grown to trust with my life. Our Satakintaro let out a huff, flames beginning to swirl around his hand, denser and denser, forging a gauntlet of powerful heat.
"Kor tont eralla, Mortesh!?"
I stared at him, terrified, hands raised as my chest tightened, muscles tensing as I felt the world around me slow down. I could see the flames building, condensing, second by second. Feel the heat emanating from his magic.
"What was that, Scrapper!?"
I blinked, shocked. Something wasn't right. Ferusian? No, he didn't-
"What was that, Sir?"
I closed my eyes, and when I opened them, I saw a young woman holding a cigarette, standing across the counter from me. She waved her hand, the small flame over her palm dissipating as she did, her cigarette freshly lit and smoking. I was in my store, not the battlefield. I was safe. I was okay.
My breathing was heavy, chest as tight as it could be, like the world itself sat upon my breast. I could see the embers fizzling in the air, remnants of her magic. Time felt so slow that I could count the embers as they faded, like houseflies buzzing in the air. I looked around, counting items on the shelves, mentally recounting their prices, their Ferusian names, and what they were used for.
The woman looked me over, concern growing on her face. I needed to say something, and soon, but I needed to be sure I knew what to say, how to say it. It had taken me months to learn Ferusian, and I still found myself slipping up more often than I would like. I nodded, taking in a deep breath and shaking my head, clearing my thoughts.
She had placed a small package on my counter, a prepared bundle of travel foods. Not very tasty, but they were filled with nutrients, designed to last several days. I wondered where she was going, but my life depended on secrets. The last thing I felt right doing was prying into the secrets of others.
"I said..." I thought, trying to recall the price from memory, trying to push myself further into the present, further from the memory, "Four Noll." I said, nodding. "Four Noll, that's the price."
She nodded, opening the coin purse at her hip and setting four copper coins bearing a finely-etched insignia onto my counter. I took the purse, smiling politely at her. She looked at me as if I'd grown a second head, gathering her bundle and leaving. I sighed, relaxing as she did. I stepped back once from the counter. I was okay, I was- I was alright. I-
Pulled my hands inward, swirling them around one another, air rippling between them, around them, sparking with power. My hands flew forward, sending a powerful bolt of lightning from my palms, striking my teacher, my superior, my friend-
I clenched my teeth and shook my head, smacking it against the wall. My brow furrowed and I pounded my fists against the wall, feeling the wood splinter against my fists. I growled, serrated teeth grinding as I tried to focus my thoughts on the present. I opened my eyes, counting the splinters surrounding my fist, breath quickening.
I threw my hand back, turning as I did, shaking off the-
Magic flew from my hand, fizzling away into the air as I began weaving sigils with my fingers, gathering raw power into my fist and throwing it forward, knuckles colliding with one of my fellow soldiers, a young Serval, two years my junior, charging at me with sword raised. I struck him hard, watching as the flesh of his neck tore from the force, severing-
I cried, stumbling from behind the counter and trying to get to the door leading to the storage room, legs giving out, dropping to my knees and falling to sit back against the wall, staring at the nearest shelf. I scanned items with my eyes, reciting each one verbally.
Ferusian name, price, purpose. Milk, two Noll, baking and drinking. Bread, one Noll, dipping and eating. Dozen eggs, five Noll, baking and eating. Pound of flour, five Noll, baki-
The scent of death filled the air, scorched flesh and the smoke of dissipating magic all around me as I drew my falchion from it's scabbard. I raised it just in time to barely deflect a slash from the last member of my squad, the other three lay dead around us, our Satakintaro face-down in the dirt several feet away, a blackened crisp of what used to be. I looked into the eyes of my companion, another man charged with protecting my life, another man I had been charged with protecting.
His blade collided with mine and the metal clanged, only to be brushed aside, narrowly missing my body thanks to the split-second contact. I felt tears run down my cheeks. I never wanted this. It was meant to be us or them. But these people were not our enemies. They were not helping our allies. Why-
Why?
Why did we-
Why?
Why were we-
Why?
"Why were we ordered to kill them?" I cried out, burying my face in my hands, knowing no answer would come.
Why had my Satakintaro acted so suddenly?
"Why did he-"
Why had the rest of my friends turned so easily?
"What did I-"
"What did I do-"
"To deserve this...?"
I sat there with my back to the wall, crying into my palms for what felt like hours. I was lucky nobody came into the store, I wouldn't have been able to stop. I finally did manage to calm down, and returned to my place behind the counter. Glancing around the store, I drummed my webbed fingers on the wood of my countertop, claws clacking against it as I did.
I tapped rhythmically, focusing on the beat of my claws against the wood until I finally relaxed. I sighed, looking to the door. Not one patron in nearly six hours. A slow day was good for my nerves, terrible for my dues. They were coming up soon, the pay for the building and for my home as well. I bowed my head, forming an upside-down M with my hands in front of my stomach, closing my eyes and sending a prayer to Malor.
Malor, O archivist, designer of Fate, hear my prayer. I ask not for wealth, nor for fame. I ask not for complacency nor comforts. I only ask that I be granted opportunity to earn my keep, to serve my fellow man. Allow me reprieve from this idleness, and offer me chance to be rewarded for my patience with the patronage of others. By your good will, I thank you.
I opened my eyes, returning my hands to rest on the countertop. I smiled to myself, black eyes glancing at the door as it clicked open. In walked a handsome young fox, grey of fur and with piercing blue eyes, wearing a blue tabbard and a shining silver collar around his neck. He was dressed in a black padded tunic and fine leather trousers, his shoes clearly of high quality and well-padded. The collar had told me his status, a lesser noble, but his clothing told me that lesser or not, he had money to spare. Even the wealthier merchants in the village could not afford such warm, or such comfortable, clothing.
Thank you, O archivist, for granting me this opportunity. I am in your debt, and you have my gratitude.
"Welcome, what might you need, Sir?" I offered him a smile, keeping my lips closed to avoid flashing my teeth at the man. As predators, we were equals. As people, his status meant to imply such would be an insult to him. He returned my smile and, much to my shock, parted his lips to bare his teeth at me. I quickly did the same, returning his gesture so as not to offend the man.
"Good afternoon. Please, don't let this collar inform you of my character. I'm simply a man looking to gather food for his family. What can I expect to find here, Sir?" he walked around, looking through my stock and examining various produce.
"Ah, thank you, kind Sir. We have milk, fresh from the farmer just outside the village every morning, as well as potatoes, tomatoes, eggs, herbs, spices, apples, berries… baked bread too. If you've the coin to spare, we also have sweet rolls and pie, baked fresh on request." I watched him examine a particularly large potato, smiling at it and stuffing it into a burlap bag bound to his belt.
"I'll take the lot, then." he said plainly. I was about to ask what exactly he meant, only to watch in shock as he grabbed three more potatoes, then made his way about the store, grabbing several of each item before meeting me at the counter. "A dozen sweet rolls and four pies, please, preferably mulberry, apple, blueberry, and cherry, but if you can't do all of those I'll settle for four apple pies."
"Sir, that is quite a large order. It may take some time." I counted out his costs as he placed his produce on the counter. He laughed, nodding and drawing his coinpurse from his side. "With these, and the baked goods, the cost is two toruts."
He nodded, reaching into his coin purse and pulling out a single gold coin, a ket, placing it on the counter. "Then please, think of the rest as my gratitude for your willingness to grant my request." I took the coin up and let my magic flow through it, feeling a familiar spark run through my fingertips, the sign of the Engraver's Coin Mint. It was certainly real.
"Sir this is far too much, it's eight toruts over. I can't accept this." I gently pushed the coin back towards him. He raised an eyebrow at me, his posture changing, looking down his snout at me. The sight almost drew a snarl from me. I was a soldier, a warrior, I could snap this man in-
"I cannot force you to take it, but I'm afraid if you won't, then I have no choice." he pulled another coin from his purse, this one silver, bearing the crest of the royal family. A sygn. I sighed, resigning myself to the reality that my refusal had cost me any pay at all. I nodded, and the man put the sygn away as I set to work preparing his baked goods.
An hour and a half later, and quite drained from using so much of my magic to rush the service, I placed the goods on the counter. "Your order, Sir. Apologies for my hesitation and causing you difficulty before. Please, enjoy them."
"I believe my family and I will, thank you." he gathered his things, leaving my shop with a satisfied smile.
Arrogant nobles… No matter what nation, no matter the origin, you're all the same, a caste of snobbish, pampered… Little…
My thoughts trailed off as I noticed he'd left something behind on the counter. I reached out, taking up two shining ket. I looked at the door, the man barely a dot in the distance now, my jaw slack. A noble with a conscience.
I believe I've seen everything now.
The rest of the day passed mostly without incident, a few other patrons coming and going with supplies for travel, produce for their suppers, a pie or two. I offered a prayer of thanks to Malor after each, not blind to the divine intervention that must have taken place. Nearing sundown, barely two hours before my usual close, a group of men walked in.
I could smell blood on them, my nose twitching at the scent of copper and iron. They carried swords at their sides and my first instinct said they were Ferusian soldiers, until one of their cloaks billowed up from their movement and I saw the shape of the blade.
Curved along the edge, then a sharper curve back with a straight back to the blade, glittering with fulgurite flecks. A falchion. These were soldiers, yes, but they were not Ferusian. These were soldiers from Sen, like I had been. I kept my eyes down, hoping they wouldn't recognize me. They milled about the store, grabbing up fruit, vegetables, some of the bundled goods for the road.
One approached, digging his coin purse out and looking at me expectantly. I kept my face down, trying to quickly do the math before giving up. "Three torut." my voice was hoarse, throat tight. The man pulled three coins from the purse and placed them on the counter, nodding before another put a hand on his chest, stopping him.
"Pies." he said simply, likely trying not to say too much for fear of an accent giving him away, or simply a lack of understanding Ferusian. I nodded, pointing to the berries, fruits, and vegetables in the store.
"Amount, and flavor, pick what you want." I turned away, going to the back room to prepare the oven. As soon as I lit the flames, I heard the door open and they began to file in one by one. "You can't come back here, this is-"
"Ey tokla sun iy lash." he growled, grabbing the hilt of his sword. My hand flew to my side, grabbing at… Nothing. I wore no sword, I carried no weapon. The others smirked, laughing amongst themselves at what they surely expected to be an easy victory. An unarmed foe, disgraced and cowering in a village in the middle of nowhere, hiding like a rat.
I stood up straight, squared my shoulders, and wove my magic into a loose ball before sending my hands outward to the sides, the aura flooding the room and passing through them, coating the walls. The door slammed shut behind them, every surface of the room glowing dimly with protective barrier magic. I rolled my shoulders, clenching my fists. One of them drew his sword and rushed me, flames radiating from the blade as his hands and arms erupted in a blaze while the others began to slowly spread out in formation around the room.
I would not make this easy for them.
I would not give them the satisfaction.
I would show them I am no rat.
Lightning coated my arms and chest, arcing around my body in violent jolts as one soldier rushed me, swinging his blade at my neck. My arm flew up, catching the blade. I twisted hard, snapping the blade with ease while ducking down beneath another blade. I heard the sound of a third cleaving through the air and growled, turning my head to catch it in my teeth, biting down as hard as I could.
The sound of shattering metal and mineral pierced the air as I bit through the blade. Rising up, I willed my magic out, lightning exploding out from me, arcing through the air and into the swords surrounding me, dancing between my attackers. They spasmed, crying out as the current ripped through them. After a moment, my magic died down and two of them dropped, the others stumbling down before rising again.
Okay. Rookies down. Now-
One of the men rushed me, snarling, dropping his blade. I braced myself, seeing another of the three slowly circling to the left while the third circled to the right. Trying to flank was smart. It still wouldn't work. I let the man charge into me, drawing back and spinning around at the last second, looping my arms around his neck, pulling up as hard as I could.
A sickening crunch echoed from his neck as his body went limp, and I dropped him just in time to duck under a punch from one man, rolling to avoid a kick from the other. My arms lit up with lightning again as I lunged forward, arms out at my sides. I hooked an arm around each of them and squeezed as tightly as I could, pouring as much energy as I could muster into my lightning, flooding them both with the volatile power.
One screamed, the smell of burnt flesh filling the room before he went limp and I let go. The other glared at me, bringing his knee up to my groin hard. I exhaled sharply, breath leaving me as pain radiated from the impact, dropping to my knees and letting go. He grabbed my throat, lifting me up and locking eyes with me.
"Iy solsa sekli gep iya Satakintaro yotor Iy deret ay seklu hup koss." he snarled, squeezing my throat hard. I felt how close he was to crushing my throat, how near to death I was. I swung my leg hard, my paw colliding with his groin full force. He let go, dropping to his knees, and I coughed, sputtering. As soon as I had my bearings, I stood, watching him do the same.
He stared me down, and I stared back, neither of us wanting to make a move. His paws shifted, adjusting, and I realized it was time to stop playing. I'd nearly been killed, the time to hold back had ended. I spread my arms, then drew them into myself, the glowing aura that coated the room to protect it from our fight shrinking inward, faster than the blink of an eye.
It encased him, surrounding his body like an armor, and in an instant he was immobilized. I calmly walked up to him, the aura parting around his snout to allow him to speak and breathe. I wanted to hear him when I killed him. I placed a hand on his chest, blending into the aura and dragging him along with me towards the oven, opening it.
The fire roared inside it, blazing at nearly seven hundred and fifty degrees. His eyes went wide and I could see the fear in them. More than that, I could smell it. Adrenaline spiking well beyond what he'd been putting out. I pulled him in front of me, forcing him to bend. He fought against the aura, the dense magic shifting, waving, and cracking before mending and returning to the shape I willed it into.
With him doubled over, his head pointed at the opening of the oven, I glared down at him, keeping my hand on his back now to maintain the aura binding him.
"By jun al um hesra yan byu fesam. Hup ulla hesra by seklu tets."
He stared at me in fear, the cold, inky blackness of my eyes betraying none of my feelings, none of my hesitation, my fear. I was grateful for their monstrous appearance in this moment. I was angry, furious. This man invaded my business, brought the war back to my life. I wanted him to suffer. I wanted him to be afraid. As the scent of ammonia hit my nose, I knew I'd succeeded. The dark stain in his trousers confirmed it, and I was almost satisfied.
Almost.
I willed the aura forward, forcing him to move. His head went into the oven, the rest of his body outside it, and I adjusted the aura, allowing his arms and legs freedom. Fire engulfed his head, burning away the fur first, then scorching the flesh beneath it. The smell of burnt hair and melting flesh slowly filled the room, his body flailing, his arms scratching and pounding against the aura, his legs kicking, paws slamming into the walls of magic I'd expanded around him.
He screamed, a sound of deepest agony and most profound regret. He begged and pleaded, offering me pardon, offering me wealth and power, offering me safety. His words fell on deaf ears, and I simply watched as flesh melted away little by little, charred to cinder and scorched into ashes. Skull became visible, more with each second, as his cries dwindled, his legs going slack and his arms following suit.
After a time, the room was silent save for the crackling of the fire, the snapping of bones being made brittle by the heat, and, to my surprise, labored breathing from one of the soldiers I had electrocuted earlier. I looked down at him, seeing him watching his Satakintaro in fear. I turned my full attention to him, releasing the aura around the corpse slumped against my oven.
He looked up at me, trembling, lip quivering. "Lash iy oora yan vura bya yana?" he choked out, weakly trying to pull himself away from me. I shook my head, eyes settling on his throat for a moment.
"Ot." I wreathed my paw and leg in a dense aura, condensing the energy as much as I could and stomping down with all my might on his neck, crushing it with amplified strength. Flesh ripped and bones shattered as I crushed his throat, reducing it to paste against the floor, his head now free from his body with nothing between them.
I stared down at the scene before me, blood and viscera pouring from his body and head, the smell of cooking flesh filling my nose from the corpse still slumped into the oven. I took a moment to check the other men for any sign of life. Only one other still breathed, still had a heartbeat, and I crushed his throat as well, leaving two dark, pooling puddles of crimson around the pair of now-beheaded bodies.
This will not clean up easily. I'll need to close-
A footstep caught my attention and I whirled, launching a bolt of lightning towards the door, expecting another foe. Exhausted as I was, I collapsed as soon as I did, the bolt fizzling mid-air as the last of my energy ran out. I hit my knees, struggling to keep myself up. I looked at the door, teeth bared and snarling, vision blurred. I couldn't see the face of my intruder, but I recognized the colors and the shaping from earlier in the day. The blue draped over his shoulders, the silver around his neck, the black coating his torso.
The noble from earlier? Why is he here?
I slumped forward, falling prone, groaning in pain as my cheek hit the floor. My vision blurred further, my ears filling with a high pitched ringing, not unlike a mosquito, though far louder. I looked up at the man in pain, trying with all I had to focus my vision, to form words.
As the man stepped forward, kneeling down in front of me, he cocked his head to the side, saying something I couldn't quite make out. I was fading fast, my eyelids heavy, my head in a powerful vice, and just before I lost consciousness, his voice became as clear as daylight.
"I'll help you." were the only words I made out, the world fading to black as I vanished from it.
I awoke in a plush bed, large and covered in silk sheets. The air was cool against my face, but the blankets were warm, as if recently heated. A young lynx, dressed in servant garb, was placing a plate of sausage, eggs, and a loaf of bread onto a small bedside table along with a cup of, judging by the smell, tea.
She noticed me and smiled. It reminded me of my mother, when I was little, all sugar and honey in her eyes. I started to speak, only to stop short. She noticed my hesitation, standing upright and bowing her head at me respectfully.
"Lord Seltz will be here shortly. He is quite invested in your recovery. I'll take my leave. We took the liberty of washing your clothes, you'll find a clean set in the wardrobe. Good morning, sir." She said, offering another bow before leaving the room. I glanced under the sheets, finding myself bare. My cheeks flushed and my ears burned as I hurried to the wardrobe, pulling the outfit she'd mentioned from its confines and dressing.
I straightened my clothes, checking my reflection in the standing mirror in the corner of the room. They were of impeccable quality, silks and satins with blue and black dye, and silver trim. The fit was somewhat tight, clearly not intended for a man of my stature. I adjusted them a little more, taking in a deep breath before relaxing. It would have to do, just until my clothes were clean.
While checking my reflection, I heard a knock at the door. "Might I enter, friend?" a familiar voice called through the wood. I glanced back, then turned fully.
"Please." I said, uncertain as to why a blueblood like him would request permission for anything in his own house. He stepped into the room, quietly closing the door behind him and offering me a polite smile, his hands folded behind his back. My fur stood on end and I could feel the muscles of my face twitching, tensing.
He laughed at that. It was a soft, wispy sound. "I understand, you are no fan of me. But you haven't truly met me, so won't you give me a chance? I just might surprise you, friend. I am Alaric Seltz. What's your name?"
I scoffed, looking away. "Aurum." I kept my gaze away from him, and closed my eyes. He laughed again, and I heard footsteps. Opening my eyes, I watched him walk from the doorway to the bed, straightening up the sheets and tending to it like a servant.
Probably just trying to give me the idea that he works to keep the home as well as his servants…
He finished, then stood upright and went back to the door, opening it. "My family and I are about to take breakfast. Join us when you are ready, the food should be done soon." he said with a smile, leaving the room shortly after.
I scoffed, huffing before looking at the window, past it to the fields beyond. There were hedges, stone walls, a garden. Beyond the grey slate was an unknown number of miles of open field. To the west, forest. To the east, river. North held open field, and I could only assume South held the same. If I were to leave unannounced, they had my clothes. A simple thaumaturgy spell could do all manner of harm.
I would just have to wait until I got my clothes back, and hope I hadn't shed enough for a bundle. Leaving the room, I followed the scent of food and found my way to the dining hall. A large, circular table adorned with a single golden candelabra in the center sat in the middle of the room. Covering the table was a dark blue tablecloth with a white crochet doily in front of each chair, eight in total. Wine glasses sat beside each, along with napkins and what must have been silver utensils. While I had originally believed the scent of food came from here, the otherwise empty table proved otherwise.
The kitchens must be close by… Maybe a room or two over? Should I sit and wait? Look around?
My thoughts were answered in the form of Alaric entering along with a host of others, a few of which wore the same noble garb he did, while the others were clearly servants. Alaric carried a rather heavy-looking platter of meats in each hand, another well-dressed male following suit carrying equally-sized dishes.
Behind them trailed two females dressed similarly to the males, as well as three servants. Each person carried platters, drink, or washcloths. "Ah, Aurum. My apologies, I had intended for this to be already prepared and laid out by the time you found your way here. Please, take a seat, it matters not which one."
I eyed him and his entourage wearily, taking the nearest seat and watching them all cautiously. The group began to set the table, with plates, platters, and bowls being placed meticulously so that what one couldn't reach, another could easily pass in their direction. Glasses were filled with wine, though one found itself filled with water, and when all was done, each person took a seat at the table. Alaric sat across from me, the other nobleman sitting at his right, while the noblewomen sat on either side of the men. Even the servants took seats at the table, the group wasting no time in taking hands and looking to me expectantly.
I eyed them for a moment before taking their hands, uncertain and hesitant, only for them to bow their heads as Alaric began to speak. "Gaius, we offer our thanks for this feast, the fruits and vegetables of which you provided us, and the meat of which grew by your kindness."
I bowed my head and closed my eyes. Hesitant or not, it wasn't good to disrespect a prayer to the gods. Alaric continued, his voice shifting from gratitude to light joy. I could hear the smile in his speech. "Malor, we thank you eagerly for the addition of another to our table this morning, and hope you grant them peace and happy days moving forward. We ask that you continue to provide for us, and for our new friend, as you have all our lives."
When I felt hands let go of mine, I raised my head and opened my eyes, looking ahead. The others began to eat and I took the cue to do the same. With all of us eating from the same plates, I could mostly ignore any concern about poison. We ate wordlessly, and when the meal was done, the servants stood and began clearing away the plates, the doilies, all except the bottle of wine and the water pitcher which remained in the center on either side of the candelabra.
With a wave of his hand, Alaric dismissed the servants. When the three cleared out, all that remained was myself, Alaric, the other nobleman, and the two women on either side of them. One, a coyote, was refilling her glass with water while the other poured herself and the other nobleman a fresh glass of wine. Alaric took a deep breath in, and then smiled at me.
"Aurum, if I may, I have a question to ask of you." he asked, folding his hands together and leaning forward.
I tensed up, sitting up straight. The others looked at me calmly, their expressions soft and patient. I nodded. "You may."
He smiled, nodding gratefully. "Thank you. In that case, I would like to know…"
"What is Sen like?"
***
CURRENCY
Torut (T-or-uh-t) - Higher value currency than a Noll, lesser to the Ket. Used for mid-tier trading and payment for greater services. Common folk rarely carry Toruts, but the middle class and above tend to carry them quite commonly.
Ket (K-eh-t) - Highest common currency. Used for high-tier trade and payment of high-value services. Rarely seen among the middle class, but very common among nobility and royalty.
Sygn (S-eye-n) - Only carried by nobles and royalty. Small silver coin bearing the insignia of the relevant family. Can be shown in place of payment, allowing nobles and royalty to acquire goods and services free of charge. Etiquette demands these only be used when trade becomes difficult or haggling ends unsatisfactorily.
SENESE GLOSSARY
"Satakintaro" (S-ah-t-ah-k-ih-n-t-ah-r-oh) - Senese military rank equivalent to a Commander
"Ey tokla sun iy lash." (Ay T-aw-k-l-ah s-oo-n ee l-ah-sh) - "We know who you are"
"Iy solsa sekli gep iya Satakintaro yotor Iy deret ay seklu hup koss." (Ee S-oh-l-s-ah s-ay-k-l-ee g-ay-p ee-y-ah S-ah-t-ah-k-ih-n-t-ah-r-oh y-oh-t-or ee d-eh-r-eh-t ay s-eh-k-l-oo h-uh-p k-aw-s) - "You should have let your Satakintaro kill you when he had the chance"
"By jun al um hesra yan byu fesam. Hup ulla hesra by seklu tets." (B-ee j-oo-n ah-ll oo-m h-eh-s-r-ah y-ah-n b-ee-oo f-ay-s-ah-m. H-uh-p uh-ll-uh h-eh-s-r-ah b-ee s-eh-k-l-oo t-eh-t-s) - "I hid as a mercy to my people. The only mercy I had left."
"Lash iy oora yan vura bya yana?" (L-ah-sh ee oo-r-ah y-ah-n v-oo-r-ah b-ee-ah y-ah-n-ah) - "Are you going to cook me too?"
"Ot." (Aw-t) - "No."
MISC INFO
Thaumaturgy - Class of magic on Relan (the planet this story is set on). Involves binding one object to another in order to create change in the target based on changes made to the bound object. An example is binding a tree to a twig and burning to twig to reduce the tree to ashes, or binding a bundle of clothes to a washcloth, allowing you to clean the clothes by simply cleaning the cloth.
NOTE: There will be a section after the chapter that is a set of information. It will include Senese translations and phonetics as well as various world-building info relevant to the chapter.
CW: Violence, death, brutality
What would you do to protect your freedom? Fight? Die?
Who would you be willing to fight? Who would you be willing to kill?
For the sake of your free will, what master would you serve?
My name is Aurum Verilin, and I was forced to answer these questions time and time again. I served for eight years as a soldier in Sen, fighting against the Ferusian military in an effort to conquer their land and claim it as ours. The rich mineral deposits and precious metals would have been enough cause for my country to invade, and yet they were not the justification we gave.
No, that would be 'preemptive action', a claim by the Shogun often paired with stories of Ferus mustering forces to attack our homeland. The truth could not be further away. We weren't fighting to stop some planned attack, or to protect our way of life. This was an unprovoked assault, a genocide. One I'd decided I would take no part in.
An order disobeyed, a superior killed, and my brothers-in-arms wiped out for my refusal. But when ordered to turn my magic on Tangkorak, those creatures most closely in tune with the world, most attached to nature, I could not bring myself to do so, and had said as much.
I stood there, staring at the man I'd grown to trust with my life. Our Satakintaro let out a huff, flames beginning to swirl around his hand, denser and denser, forging a gauntlet of powerful heat.
"Kor tont eralla, Mortesh!?"
I stared at him, terrified, hands raised as my chest tightened, muscles tensing as I felt the world around me slow down. I could see the flames building, condensing, second by second. Feel the heat emanating from his magic.
"What was that, Scrapper!?"
I blinked, shocked. Something wasn't right. Ferusian? No, he didn't-
"What was that, Sir?"
I closed my eyes, and when I opened them, I saw a young woman holding a cigarette, standing across the counter from me. She waved her hand, the small flame over her palm dissipating as she did, her cigarette freshly lit and smoking. I was in my store, not the battlefield. I was safe. I was okay.
My breathing was heavy, chest as tight as it could be, like the world itself sat upon my breast. I could see the embers fizzling in the air, remnants of her magic. Time felt so slow that I could count the embers as they faded, like houseflies buzzing in the air. I looked around, counting items on the shelves, mentally recounting their prices, their Ferusian names, and what they were used for.
The woman looked me over, concern growing on her face. I needed to say something, and soon, but I needed to be sure I knew what to say, how to say it. It had taken me months to learn Ferusian, and I still found myself slipping up more often than I would like. I nodded, taking in a deep breath and shaking my head, clearing my thoughts.
She had placed a small package on my counter, a prepared bundle of travel foods. Not very tasty, but they were filled with nutrients, designed to last several days. I wondered where she was going, but my life depended on secrets. The last thing I felt right doing was prying into the secrets of others.
"I said..." I thought, trying to recall the price from memory, trying to push myself further into the present, further from the memory, "Four Noll." I said, nodding. "Four Noll, that's the price."
She nodded, opening the coin purse at her hip and setting four copper coins bearing a finely-etched insignia onto my counter. I took the purse, smiling politely at her. She looked at me as if I'd grown a second head, gathering her bundle and leaving. I sighed, relaxing as she did. I stepped back once from the counter. I was okay, I was- I was alright. I-
Pulled my hands inward, swirling them around one another, air rippling between them, around them, sparking with power. My hands flew forward, sending a powerful bolt of lightning from my palms, striking my teacher, my superior, my friend-
I clenched my teeth and shook my head, smacking it against the wall. My brow furrowed and I pounded my fists against the wall, feeling the wood splinter against my fists. I growled, serrated teeth grinding as I tried to focus my thoughts on the present. I opened my eyes, counting the splinters surrounding my fist, breath quickening.
I threw my hand back, turning as I did, shaking off the-
Magic flew from my hand, fizzling away into the air as I began weaving sigils with my fingers, gathering raw power into my fist and throwing it forward, knuckles colliding with one of my fellow soldiers, a young Serval, two years my junior, charging at me with sword raised. I struck him hard, watching as the flesh of his neck tore from the force, severing-
I cried, stumbling from behind the counter and trying to get to the door leading to the storage room, legs giving out, dropping to my knees and falling to sit back against the wall, staring at the nearest shelf. I scanned items with my eyes, reciting each one verbally.
Ferusian name, price, purpose. Milk, two Noll, baking and drinking. Bread, one Noll, dipping and eating. Dozen eggs, five Noll, baking and eating. Pound of flour, five Noll, baki-
The scent of death filled the air, scorched flesh and the smoke of dissipating magic all around me as I drew my falchion from it's scabbard. I raised it just in time to barely deflect a slash from the last member of my squad, the other three lay dead around us, our Satakintaro face-down in the dirt several feet away, a blackened crisp of what used to be. I looked into the eyes of my companion, another man charged with protecting my life, another man I had been charged with protecting.
His blade collided with mine and the metal clanged, only to be brushed aside, narrowly missing my body thanks to the split-second contact. I felt tears run down my cheeks. I never wanted this. It was meant to be us or them. But these people were not our enemies. They were not helping our allies. Why-
Why?
Why did we-
Why?
Why were we-
Why?
"Why were we ordered to kill them?" I cried out, burying my face in my hands, knowing no answer would come.
Why had my Satakintaro acted so suddenly?
"Why did he-"
Why had the rest of my friends turned so easily?
"What did I-"
"What did I do-"
"To deserve this...?"
I sat there with my back to the wall, crying into my palms for what felt like hours. I was lucky nobody came into the store, I wouldn't have been able to stop. I finally did manage to calm down, and returned to my place behind the counter. Glancing around the store, I drummed my webbed fingers on the wood of my countertop, claws clacking against it as I did.
I tapped rhythmically, focusing on the beat of my claws against the wood until I finally relaxed. I sighed, looking to the door. Not one patron in nearly six hours. A slow day was good for my nerves, terrible for my dues. They were coming up soon, the pay for the building and for my home as well. I bowed my head, forming an upside-down M with my hands in front of my stomach, closing my eyes and sending a prayer to Malor.
Malor, O archivist, designer of Fate, hear my prayer. I ask not for wealth, nor for fame. I ask not for complacency nor comforts. I only ask that I be granted opportunity to earn my keep, to serve my fellow man. Allow me reprieve from this idleness, and offer me chance to be rewarded for my patience with the patronage of others. By your good will, I thank you.
I opened my eyes, returning my hands to rest on the countertop. I smiled to myself, black eyes glancing at the door as it clicked open. In walked a handsome young fox, grey of fur and with piercing blue eyes, wearing a blue tabbard and a shining silver collar around his neck. He was dressed in a black padded tunic and fine leather trousers, his shoes clearly of high quality and well-padded. The collar had told me his status, a lesser noble, but his clothing told me that lesser or not, he had money to spare. Even the wealthier merchants in the village could not afford such warm, or such comfortable, clothing.
Thank you, O archivist, for granting me this opportunity. I am in your debt, and you have my gratitude.
"Welcome, what might you need, Sir?" I offered him a smile, keeping my lips closed to avoid flashing my teeth at the man. As predators, we were equals. As people, his status meant to imply such would be an insult to him. He returned my smile and, much to my shock, parted his lips to bare his teeth at me. I quickly did the same, returning his gesture so as not to offend the man.
"Good afternoon. Please, don't let this collar inform you of my character. I'm simply a man looking to gather food for his family. What can I expect to find here, Sir?" he walked around, looking through my stock and examining various produce.
"Ah, thank you, kind Sir. We have milk, fresh from the farmer just outside the village every morning, as well as potatoes, tomatoes, eggs, herbs, spices, apples, berries… baked bread too. If you've the coin to spare, we also have sweet rolls and pie, baked fresh on request." I watched him examine a particularly large potato, smiling at it and stuffing it into a burlap bag bound to his belt.
"I'll take the lot, then." he said plainly. I was about to ask what exactly he meant, only to watch in shock as he grabbed three more potatoes, then made his way about the store, grabbing several of each item before meeting me at the counter. "A dozen sweet rolls and four pies, please, preferably mulberry, apple, blueberry, and cherry, but if you can't do all of those I'll settle for four apple pies."
"Sir, that is quite a large order. It may take some time." I counted out his costs as he placed his produce on the counter. He laughed, nodding and drawing his coinpurse from his side. "With these, and the baked goods, the cost is two toruts."
He nodded, reaching into his coin purse and pulling out a single gold coin, a ket, placing it on the counter. "Then please, think of the rest as my gratitude for your willingness to grant my request." I took the coin up and let my magic flow through it, feeling a familiar spark run through my fingertips, the sign of the Engraver's Coin Mint. It was certainly real.
"Sir this is far too much, it's eight toruts over. I can't accept this." I gently pushed the coin back towards him. He raised an eyebrow at me, his posture changing, looking down his snout at me. The sight almost drew a snarl from me. I was a soldier, a warrior, I could snap this man in-
"I cannot force you to take it, but I'm afraid if you won't, then I have no choice." he pulled another coin from his purse, this one silver, bearing the crest of the royal family. A sygn. I sighed, resigning myself to the reality that my refusal had cost me any pay at all. I nodded, and the man put the sygn away as I set to work preparing his baked goods.
An hour and a half later, and quite drained from using so much of my magic to rush the service, I placed the goods on the counter. "Your order, Sir. Apologies for my hesitation and causing you difficulty before. Please, enjoy them."
"I believe my family and I will, thank you." he gathered his things, leaving my shop with a satisfied smile.
Arrogant nobles… No matter what nation, no matter the origin, you're all the same, a caste of snobbish, pampered… Little…
My thoughts trailed off as I noticed he'd left something behind on the counter. I reached out, taking up two shining ket. I looked at the door, the man barely a dot in the distance now, my jaw slack. A noble with a conscience.
I believe I've seen everything now.
The rest of the day passed mostly without incident, a few other patrons coming and going with supplies for travel, produce for their suppers, a pie or two. I offered a prayer of thanks to Malor after each, not blind to the divine intervention that must have taken place. Nearing sundown, barely two hours before my usual close, a group of men walked in.
I could smell blood on them, my nose twitching at the scent of copper and iron. They carried swords at their sides and my first instinct said they were Ferusian soldiers, until one of their cloaks billowed up from their movement and I saw the shape of the blade.
Curved along the edge, then a sharper curve back with a straight back to the blade, glittering with fulgurite flecks. A falchion. These were soldiers, yes, but they were not Ferusian. These were soldiers from Sen, like I had been. I kept my eyes down, hoping they wouldn't recognize me. They milled about the store, grabbing up fruit, vegetables, some of the bundled goods for the road.
One approached, digging his coin purse out and looking at me expectantly. I kept my face down, trying to quickly do the math before giving up. "Three torut." my voice was hoarse, throat tight. The man pulled three coins from the purse and placed them on the counter, nodding before another put a hand on his chest, stopping him.
"Pies." he said simply, likely trying not to say too much for fear of an accent giving him away, or simply a lack of understanding Ferusian. I nodded, pointing to the berries, fruits, and vegetables in the store.
"Amount, and flavor, pick what you want." I turned away, going to the back room to prepare the oven. As soon as I lit the flames, I heard the door open and they began to file in one by one. "You can't come back here, this is-"
"Ey tokla sun iy lash." he growled, grabbing the hilt of his sword. My hand flew to my side, grabbing at… Nothing. I wore no sword, I carried no weapon. The others smirked, laughing amongst themselves at what they surely expected to be an easy victory. An unarmed foe, disgraced and cowering in a village in the middle of nowhere, hiding like a rat.
I stood up straight, squared my shoulders, and wove my magic into a loose ball before sending my hands outward to the sides, the aura flooding the room and passing through them, coating the walls. The door slammed shut behind them, every surface of the room glowing dimly with protective barrier magic. I rolled my shoulders, clenching my fists. One of them drew his sword and rushed me, flames radiating from the blade as his hands and arms erupted in a blaze while the others began to slowly spread out in formation around the room.
I would not make this easy for them.
I would not give them the satisfaction.
I would show them I am no rat.
Lightning coated my arms and chest, arcing around my body in violent jolts as one soldier rushed me, swinging his blade at my neck. My arm flew up, catching the blade. I twisted hard, snapping the blade with ease while ducking down beneath another blade. I heard the sound of a third cleaving through the air and growled, turning my head to catch it in my teeth, biting down as hard as I could.
The sound of shattering metal and mineral pierced the air as I bit through the blade. Rising up, I willed my magic out, lightning exploding out from me, arcing through the air and into the swords surrounding me, dancing between my attackers. They spasmed, crying out as the current ripped through them. After a moment, my magic died down and two of them dropped, the others stumbling down before rising again.
Okay. Rookies down. Now-
One of the men rushed me, snarling, dropping his blade. I braced myself, seeing another of the three slowly circling to the left while the third circled to the right. Trying to flank was smart. It still wouldn't work. I let the man charge into me, drawing back and spinning around at the last second, looping my arms around his neck, pulling up as hard as I could.
A sickening crunch echoed from his neck as his body went limp, and I dropped him just in time to duck under a punch from one man, rolling to avoid a kick from the other. My arms lit up with lightning again as I lunged forward, arms out at my sides. I hooked an arm around each of them and squeezed as tightly as I could, pouring as much energy as I could muster into my lightning, flooding them both with the volatile power.
One screamed, the smell of burnt flesh filling the room before he went limp and I let go. The other glared at me, bringing his knee up to my groin hard. I exhaled sharply, breath leaving me as pain radiated from the impact, dropping to my knees and letting go. He grabbed my throat, lifting me up and locking eyes with me.
"Iy solsa sekli gep iya Satakintaro yotor Iy deret ay seklu hup koss." he snarled, squeezing my throat hard. I felt how close he was to crushing my throat, how near to death I was. I swung my leg hard, my paw colliding with his groin full force. He let go, dropping to his knees, and I coughed, sputtering. As soon as I had my bearings, I stood, watching him do the same.
He stared me down, and I stared back, neither of us wanting to make a move. His paws shifted, adjusting, and I realized it was time to stop playing. I'd nearly been killed, the time to hold back had ended. I spread my arms, then drew them into myself, the glowing aura that coated the room to protect it from our fight shrinking inward, faster than the blink of an eye.
It encased him, surrounding his body like an armor, and in an instant he was immobilized. I calmly walked up to him, the aura parting around his snout to allow him to speak and breathe. I wanted to hear him when I killed him. I placed a hand on his chest, blending into the aura and dragging him along with me towards the oven, opening it.
The fire roared inside it, blazing at nearly seven hundred and fifty degrees. His eyes went wide and I could see the fear in them. More than that, I could smell it. Adrenaline spiking well beyond what he'd been putting out. I pulled him in front of me, forcing him to bend. He fought against the aura, the dense magic shifting, waving, and cracking before mending and returning to the shape I willed it into.
With him doubled over, his head pointed at the opening of the oven, I glared down at him, keeping my hand on his back now to maintain the aura binding him.
"By jun al um hesra yan byu fesam. Hup ulla hesra by seklu tets."
He stared at me in fear, the cold, inky blackness of my eyes betraying none of my feelings, none of my hesitation, my fear. I was grateful for their monstrous appearance in this moment. I was angry, furious. This man invaded my business, brought the war back to my life. I wanted him to suffer. I wanted him to be afraid. As the scent of ammonia hit my nose, I knew I'd succeeded. The dark stain in his trousers confirmed it, and I was almost satisfied.
Almost.
I willed the aura forward, forcing him to move. His head went into the oven, the rest of his body outside it, and I adjusted the aura, allowing his arms and legs freedom. Fire engulfed his head, burning away the fur first, then scorching the flesh beneath it. The smell of burnt hair and melting flesh slowly filled the room, his body flailing, his arms scratching and pounding against the aura, his legs kicking, paws slamming into the walls of magic I'd expanded around him.
He screamed, a sound of deepest agony and most profound regret. He begged and pleaded, offering me pardon, offering me wealth and power, offering me safety. His words fell on deaf ears, and I simply watched as flesh melted away little by little, charred to cinder and scorched into ashes. Skull became visible, more with each second, as his cries dwindled, his legs going slack and his arms following suit.
After a time, the room was silent save for the crackling of the fire, the snapping of bones being made brittle by the heat, and, to my surprise, labored breathing from one of the soldiers I had electrocuted earlier. I looked down at him, seeing him watching his Satakintaro in fear. I turned my full attention to him, releasing the aura around the corpse slumped against my oven.
He looked up at me, trembling, lip quivering. "Lash iy oora yan vura bya yana?" he choked out, weakly trying to pull himself away from me. I shook my head, eyes settling on his throat for a moment.
"Ot." I wreathed my paw and leg in a dense aura, condensing the energy as much as I could and stomping down with all my might on his neck, crushing it with amplified strength. Flesh ripped and bones shattered as I crushed his throat, reducing it to paste against the floor, his head now free from his body with nothing between them.
I stared down at the scene before me, blood and viscera pouring from his body and head, the smell of cooking flesh filling my nose from the corpse still slumped into the oven. I took a moment to check the other men for any sign of life. Only one other still breathed, still had a heartbeat, and I crushed his throat as well, leaving two dark, pooling puddles of crimson around the pair of now-beheaded bodies.
This will not clean up easily. I'll need to close-
A footstep caught my attention and I whirled, launching a bolt of lightning towards the door, expecting another foe. Exhausted as I was, I collapsed as soon as I did, the bolt fizzling mid-air as the last of my energy ran out. I hit my knees, struggling to keep myself up. I looked at the door, teeth bared and snarling, vision blurred. I couldn't see the face of my intruder, but I recognized the colors and the shaping from earlier in the day. The blue draped over his shoulders, the silver around his neck, the black coating his torso.
The noble from earlier? Why is he here?
I slumped forward, falling prone, groaning in pain as my cheek hit the floor. My vision blurred further, my ears filling with a high pitched ringing, not unlike a mosquito, though far louder. I looked up at the man in pain, trying with all I had to focus my vision, to form words.
As the man stepped forward, kneeling down in front of me, he cocked his head to the side, saying something I couldn't quite make out. I was fading fast, my eyelids heavy, my head in a powerful vice, and just before I lost consciousness, his voice became as clear as daylight.
"I'll help you." were the only words I made out, the world fading to black as I vanished from it.
I awoke in a plush bed, large and covered in silk sheets. The air was cool against my face, but the blankets were warm, as if recently heated. A young lynx, dressed in servant garb, was placing a plate of sausage, eggs, and a loaf of bread onto a small bedside table along with a cup of, judging by the smell, tea.
She noticed me and smiled. It reminded me of my mother, when I was little, all sugar and honey in her eyes. I started to speak, only to stop short. She noticed my hesitation, standing upright and bowing her head at me respectfully.
"Lord Seltz will be here shortly. He is quite invested in your recovery. I'll take my leave. We took the liberty of washing your clothes, you'll find a clean set in the wardrobe. Good morning, sir." She said, offering another bow before leaving the room. I glanced under the sheets, finding myself bare. My cheeks flushed and my ears burned as I hurried to the wardrobe, pulling the outfit she'd mentioned from its confines and dressing.
I straightened my clothes, checking my reflection in the standing mirror in the corner of the room. They were of impeccable quality, silks and satins with blue and black dye, and silver trim. The fit was somewhat tight, clearly not intended for a man of my stature. I adjusted them a little more, taking in a deep breath before relaxing. It would have to do, just until my clothes were clean.
While checking my reflection, I heard a knock at the door. "Might I enter, friend?" a familiar voice called through the wood. I glanced back, then turned fully.
"Please." I said, uncertain as to why a blueblood like him would request permission for anything in his own house. He stepped into the room, quietly closing the door behind him and offering me a polite smile, his hands folded behind his back. My fur stood on end and I could feel the muscles of my face twitching, tensing.
He laughed at that. It was a soft, wispy sound. "I understand, you are no fan of me. But you haven't truly met me, so won't you give me a chance? I just might surprise you, friend. I am Alaric Seltz. What's your name?"
I scoffed, looking away. "Aurum." I kept my gaze away from him, and closed my eyes. He laughed again, and I heard footsteps. Opening my eyes, I watched him walk from the doorway to the bed, straightening up the sheets and tending to it like a servant.
Probably just trying to give me the idea that he works to keep the home as well as his servants…
He finished, then stood upright and went back to the door, opening it. "My family and I are about to take breakfast. Join us when you are ready, the food should be done soon." he said with a smile, leaving the room shortly after.
I scoffed, huffing before looking at the window, past it to the fields beyond. There were hedges, stone walls, a garden. Beyond the grey slate was an unknown number of miles of open field. To the west, forest. To the east, river. North held open field, and I could only assume South held the same. If I were to leave unannounced, they had my clothes. A simple thaumaturgy spell could do all manner of harm.
I would just have to wait until I got my clothes back, and hope I hadn't shed enough for a bundle. Leaving the room, I followed the scent of food and found my way to the dining hall. A large, circular table adorned with a single golden candelabra in the center sat in the middle of the room. Covering the table was a dark blue tablecloth with a white crochet doily in front of each chair, eight in total. Wine glasses sat beside each, along with napkins and what must have been silver utensils. While I had originally believed the scent of food came from here, the otherwise empty table proved otherwise.
The kitchens must be close by… Maybe a room or two over? Should I sit and wait? Look around?
My thoughts were answered in the form of Alaric entering along with a host of others, a few of which wore the same noble garb he did, while the others were clearly servants. Alaric carried a rather heavy-looking platter of meats in each hand, another well-dressed male following suit carrying equally-sized dishes.
Behind them trailed two females dressed similarly to the males, as well as three servants. Each person carried platters, drink, or washcloths. "Ah, Aurum. My apologies, I had intended for this to be already prepared and laid out by the time you found your way here. Please, take a seat, it matters not which one."
I eyed him and his entourage wearily, taking the nearest seat and watching them all cautiously. The group began to set the table, with plates, platters, and bowls being placed meticulously so that what one couldn't reach, another could easily pass in their direction. Glasses were filled with wine, though one found itself filled with water, and when all was done, each person took a seat at the table. Alaric sat across from me, the other nobleman sitting at his right, while the noblewomen sat on either side of the men. Even the servants took seats at the table, the group wasting no time in taking hands and looking to me expectantly.
I eyed them for a moment before taking their hands, uncertain and hesitant, only for them to bow their heads as Alaric began to speak. "Gaius, we offer our thanks for this feast, the fruits and vegetables of which you provided us, and the meat of which grew by your kindness."
I bowed my head and closed my eyes. Hesitant or not, it wasn't good to disrespect a prayer to the gods. Alaric continued, his voice shifting from gratitude to light joy. I could hear the smile in his speech. "Malor, we thank you eagerly for the addition of another to our table this morning, and hope you grant them peace and happy days moving forward. We ask that you continue to provide for us, and for our new friend, as you have all our lives."
When I felt hands let go of mine, I raised my head and opened my eyes, looking ahead. The others began to eat and I took the cue to do the same. With all of us eating from the same plates, I could mostly ignore any concern about poison. We ate wordlessly, and when the meal was done, the servants stood and began clearing away the plates, the doilies, all except the bottle of wine and the water pitcher which remained in the center on either side of the candelabra.
With a wave of his hand, Alaric dismissed the servants. When the three cleared out, all that remained was myself, Alaric, the other nobleman, and the two women on either side of them. One, a coyote, was refilling her glass with water while the other poured herself and the other nobleman a fresh glass of wine. Alaric took a deep breath in, and then smiled at me.
"Aurum, if I may, I have a question to ask of you." he asked, folding his hands together and leaning forward.
I tensed up, sitting up straight. The others looked at me calmly, their expressions soft and patient. I nodded. "You may."
He smiled, nodding gratefully. "Thank you. In that case, I would like to know…"
"What is Sen like?"
***
CURRENCY
Torut (T-or-uh-t) - Higher value currency than a Noll, lesser to the Ket. Used for mid-tier trading and payment for greater services. Common folk rarely carry Toruts, but the middle class and above tend to carry them quite commonly.
Ket (K-eh-t) - Highest common currency. Used for high-tier trade and payment of high-value services. Rarely seen among the middle class, but very common among nobility and royalty.
Sygn (S-eye-n) - Only carried by nobles and royalty. Small silver coin bearing the insignia of the relevant family. Can be shown in place of payment, allowing nobles and royalty to acquire goods and services free of charge. Etiquette demands these only be used when trade becomes difficult or haggling ends unsatisfactorily.
SENESE GLOSSARY
"Satakintaro" (S-ah-t-ah-k-ih-n-t-ah-r-oh) - Senese military rank equivalent to a Commander
"Ey tokla sun iy lash." (Ay T-aw-k-l-ah s-oo-n ee l-ah-sh) - "We know who you are"
"Iy solsa sekli gep iya Satakintaro yotor Iy deret ay seklu hup koss." (Ee S-oh-l-s-ah s-ay-k-l-ee g-ay-p ee-y-ah S-ah-t-ah-k-ih-n-t-ah-r-oh y-oh-t-or ee d-eh-r-eh-t ay s-eh-k-l-oo h-uh-p k-aw-s) - "You should have let your Satakintaro kill you when he had the chance"
"By jun al um hesra yan byu fesam. Hup ulla hesra by seklu tets." (B-ee j-oo-n ah-ll oo-m h-eh-s-r-ah y-ah-n b-ee-oo f-ay-s-ah-m. H-uh-p uh-ll-uh h-eh-s-r-ah b-ee s-eh-k-l-oo t-eh-t-s) - "I hid as a mercy to my people. The only mercy I had left."
"Lash iy oora yan vura bya yana?" (L-ah-sh ee oo-r-ah y-ah-n v-oo-r-ah b-ee-ah y-ah-n-ah) - "Are you going to cook me too?"
"Ot." (Aw-t) - "No."
MISC INFO
Thaumaturgy - Class of magic on Relan (the planet this story is set on). Involves binding one object to another in order to create change in the target based on changes made to the bound object. An example is binding a tree to a twig and burning to twig to reduce the tree to ashes, or binding a bundle of clothes to a washcloth, allowing you to clean the clothes by simply cleaning the cloth.
I am so tired of short-attention-span, trim-the-fat culture.
All writing advice these days is for how to write like Chuck Palahniuk. "Cut 'think', cut 'feel', cut 'wonder' - only action, only pushing forward, show and move and move and move." What if I could emulate this style, and still don't want to? What if I want to write like Henry James, with three paragraphs of introspective musings between each dialogue line?
The music advice is, "make it shortform, make it Tik-Tok compatible, make it punchy, hit the refrain as soon as possible." What if I want that 10-minute prog rock piece? What if I want that symphony? What if I want it slow and luxurious and lazy?
Movies. Series. Poetry. Bodies. Everything is "trimmed trimmed trimmed trimmed, stripped bare, you have three seconds to win me over, make it airport chic." I don't want to win you over, then, I guess.
I want the fat left it.
I want the pleasure and the indolence and the indulgence.
Fuck this art-advice that's always "your art needs Ozempic."
There are going to be days (or weeks, or months) where you sit down to write and feel... disconnected. From your voice, from your characters, from your ideas. Like the person who used to write your stories just packed up and left.
They didn't. They're just tired. Here's how to keep writing anyway:
Lower the bar (Until it's on the floor)
You are not here to write something brilliant. You are here to write something. A paragraph. A sentence. A single line of dialogue. Movement matters way more than quality.
Write around the story
Don't force it. If you can't write the scene, try:
⋆ A character ramble / journal entry
⋆ A conversation that won't be included in the final draft
⋆ A list of things the character would never admit out loud
⋆ A messy summary of what should happen
Engage with the story from a different angle.
Borrow a voice until yours comes back
No, not with AI. Read something that feels close to what you want to write, or watch a scene that captures the tone, then write immediately after. Not to copy, to reignite your instincts.
Write the emotion, not the plot.
What is your character feeling in this moment? What are they afraid of? What do they want but won't say? What's being kept from them? The emotion leads, the plot catches up later.
Stop trying to "feel like a writer" first.
You don't write when you feel like a writer. You feel like a writer because you write.
You are still a writer, even on the days it feels distant. Especially then.
There’s a certain folkloric idea that if you die at sea, your soul is sort of. Inextricably stuck in the sea. Because your body is irretrievable, your soul is also irretrievable, down out of the reach of the gods who look at the surface of the world. In Norse mythology, they said that the souls of sailors who died at sea are caught in the sea-goddess Rán’s net and dragged into her domain, a distinct and separate afterlife alongside Hel and Valhalla. Davy Jones Locker. The funayūrei. A lot of cultures agree that once sea has a hold on you, even when your body has rotted and dwindled and been made food for crabs, it still won’t let you go.
Do you think we’re going to wind up saying the same thing about astronauts.
I wouldn't say I'm completely lost, but there's a plot point in my WIP where I'm seeing 3 multiple endings to the first arc and each one is equally beautiful and bittersweet I don't know which to use and its driving me nuts!
"If anyone wants me to make a side story of drabble..." I mean if you're offering-
Could we get a drabble of romantic yandere Lawrence? I'm interested!
(Also I know it's been a while but please don't apologize for taking a while to post! I love reading whatever you write, regardless of the time it takes! Also I've been totally busy too so I get it-)
Here it is, and thank you for being so understanding!! I'll make this a series if anyone continues to be interested!
CW: Obsessive behavior (romantic and implied platonic for the "kids"), mentioned stalking, mentioned death, kidnapping, violence, broken bones, intimate/creepy whumper, drugging, mentioned alcohol
...
Harper lets out a heavy sigh as they finish off wiping down the bar, glancing at their watch every other minute. With all the disturbing love letters from their "secret admirer" they've been getting, they're starting to feel scared to leave the bar and go home. They spent countless nights awake out of fear.
Some of them could be mistaken for romantic and sweet, but when they got graphic, they got graphic. Harper now feels their heart drop every time they see that familiar red envelope.
They went to the police about it, but they said there was nothing they could do. The letters had no threats, not directly, anyway. It baffled them, considering this was clear evidence they were being stalked, and yet they weren't doing anything about it. Not until they had further evidence.
"You look tired."
Harper gasps and flinches at the sudden silvery voice, only to see Lawrence. They clutch their heart. "Oh my god... hi, Lawrence."
The blond frowns, leaning against the bar. "I didn't mean to scare you, I'm sorry. Are you okay?"
Harper nods, exhaling shakily. "Yeah, yeah I am. I just... uh, I can't seem to sleep lately. Anyway, do you want the usual, or...?"
Lawrence shakes his head. "I'm not getting anything tonight, I actually came over to check on you. You've been acting stressed all week and I just wanted to make sure you're doing okay."
A small smile rises to Harper's lips. "I'm fine, really, I'm just tired."
"I can tell when you're lying, you aren't the most skilled at it," Lawrence laughs softly. He sits on the stool right across from Harper and stares into their eyes. "If there's something going on, you know you can talk to me. I'm not just a customer, you know."
That's a slight surprise to Harper, considering to them, that really is all Lawrence is. A regular who frequents the bar.
"You don't have to worry about me." Harper shrugs. "It's fine. I'm fine."
Lawrence gives a soft chuckle. "If you really don't want to talk about it, I won't force you, but I'm a little worried about my friend."
Harper looks around the bar to see only a young group of friends in the back, seeming about ready to leave. They decide it wouldn't hurt to open up a bit. "I keep getting these... secret admirer letters."
Interest seeming to pique, Lawrence tilts his head. "Really? What did they say? It can't be something so bad to make you this stressed."
Harper blinks, feeling a little embarrassed. "That's what you think. Some of them are kind of sweet, they actually started off pretty romantic, I was almost wanting to meet this secret admirer. Then after about five letters in it started getting... graphic."
"Graphic?" Lawrence raises an eyebrow. "Like... sexual things?"
"Well, yes..." Harper mumbles. "But they weren't all like that. Some of them were just vaguely threatening and creepy. The police said there was nothing they can do so I guess I just have to deal with them and hope they go away, but..."
Lawrence sighs sympathetically. "But you're worried they'll come find you."
"Yeah." Harper rubs their temples tiredly. "It also freaks me out that this person could be anyone. There's no address on the letters so I can assume they come to deliver them themselves. I thought about setting up cameras but they'd probably know if I did. They seem to be following me 24/7 with all the stuff they've put in those letters."
Nodding, Lawrence sighs, "I'm sorry, that sounds awful. You don't think they'd actually try anything, do you?"
"I... don't know. I sure hope not, but the thought is always there."
"Hmm... do you want me to drive you home? I can walk you up to your house."
Harper chuckles. It's a little odd he's offering, but it just seems in character for him. Not to mention Harper had already mentioned last time Lawrence visited that they took the metro to work every day. "You don't need to do that, I think I'll be fine."
"You have a stalker, and you want me to leave you alone to deal with it at 10:00 o'clock at night? That doesn't sound safe," Lawrence argues.
"No it doesn't, but..." Harper trails off when they realize they have no argument. They doubt Lawrence could be the culprit behind the letters, only because this is Lawrence Cross, a pretty well-known celebrity.
They doubt anyone would throw away their career like that, especially over them of all people. Not to mention if Lawrence was hypothetically their stalker, it'd make no sense why he wouldn't have just snatched them away sooner. Hell knows he has the time and money.
Raising a brow, Lawrence repeats, "But?"
"But... nothing. I'll pay you for the ride."
With a chuckle, Lawrence shakes his head. "I'd probably be the worst person ever if I took your money, especially for something like this. Let's go."
Harper feels some relief their shift is over with, glad to be done for the day for the first time in a while. It'll be hard getting to sleep, but they're just happy to get a free ride. They exit the bar after clocking out, smelling the wet concrete beneath their feet. It's calming to smell something that isn't just pure alcohol.
"Where do you live?" Lawrence asks as they both get in the car. His hands rest along the steering wheel, looking at Harper.
They hesitate for a moment, realizing they need to tell a relative stranger their address. However, considering the circumstances and the fact that Lawrence has offered his help genuinely, they decide to share the information.
"I live in the apartment complex on Berkley Street, just a few blocks away," Harper responds, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.
Lawrence nods and starts the car, smoothly merging into the late-night traffic. The rhythmic hum of the engine fills the silence, creating a sense of comfort within the confined space of the vehicle.
Harper thinks it's a little weird, the fact that Lawrence, a celebrity and stranger, has become involved in the situation at hand. It felt like a fever dream when Lawrence stepped foot in the small dreary bar just a few months back, Harper was sure he was just a celebrity lookalike, and even now they have suspicions.
Considering Lawrence has reserved the entire bar for hours at a time just to watch a stupid football game and sip on whiskey, Harper knows he is the real deal. Probably.
"Soo... how are your kids doing?" Harper asks. Comfortable silence was never a thing for them.
"Pretty good, actually. Nathan's temper tantrums have been improving, I think he's becoming more well-behaved. Sadie and Marshall are doing good, too."
Harper hums in acknowledgement. They turn their head to watch the dimly lit street lights pass by, while also watching Lawrence's reflection in the window. He seems focused on driving, so they decide to stay quiet, just listening to the radio playing quiet 80's music.
Eventually, Harper notices he missed the street to turn on. "Lawrence, you missed it."
Lawrence comes to a stoplight, turning his head to look at them. "Huh?"
"You missed the street."
"Oh, sorry. I was lost in thought."
Harper feels a sense of dread as Lawrence continues driving. They laugh awkwardly. "So are you going to make a U-turn or what?" When Lawrence doesn't reply, the terror really starts to come up. "Y-you know what, I think I'll just get out now, just pull over."
He shakes his head. "I can't do that."
"Why the fuck not? Let me out, Lawrence. This isn't funny." They're about to start hyperventilating, but the sheer adrenaline of wanting to get away from him overpowers every other emotion.
Lawrence clicks his tongue. "You're right, this isn't funny." He's staring straight ahead at the road, completely unfazed.
Harper tries opening the car door, but it's locked, of course. They try to move to Lawrence's side to unlock it, now in a panicked fervor, but Lawrence pushes them and before Harper can blink, a knife goes to their throat. Their eyes go wide.
"I wouldn't do that, love," Lawrence says simply and calmly, like a normal person would say it to someone who was simply annoying them.
The pet name sent shivers down their spine. “What do you want with me?” they whisper.
Lawrence removes the knife from their neck and to his pocket facing the car door on his side. His eyes are still fixated on the road with the occasional glance sent their way. "I want you to be mine."
The words are so simple, yet Harper is still surprised. "Excuse me?" they sputter.
He chuckles. "You heard the news articles? About Nadia?"
Harper shakes their head slowly. "No... I... I mean... I know she…"
"She died, yeah. I grieved for so many years. We were supposed to have a family, y'know? She was the only person who ever really understood me."
"Then she must've been as batshit crazy as you." Harper really didn't expect that to come out of their own mouth that loudly, but luckily Lawrence seems more amused than upset.
"Oh, she was. My point is, she died and left me all alone. Ever since then I've been looking for the right one, but all of them wanted the same thing out of me: money, sex, a status that actually makes them worth something… but then I met you." Lawrence smiles at them.
Harper feels too disturbed to even think of a response.
Continuing, Lawrence says, "You don't care about my fame or my money. We talk just like normal people, just like we are now."
The realization Lawrence thinks this is just a normal conversation makes Harper laugh. "I think we have different definitions of 'normal people'. So what the hell do you want from me?"
Lawrence sends a glare as he drives down the highway. "I want you to be with me."
Harper laughs again. "Yeah... I don't think that's going to happen." They pause, coming to a realization they should’ve from the very beginning Lawrence started acting weird. "You wrote all those letters."
"I sure did. Poetic, weren't they?"
"No. I think creepy and demented would be the best way to describe it."
Lawrence chuckles. "That's pretty harsh, but then again, I knew they'd creep you out. That's why we're here right now, after all."
Harper scoffs. "So you didn't mean any of it?"
He smiles at them. "Oh no, I meant every little word. I just decided to be a bit bolder than I normally would. Did I do a good job?"
They go silent yet again, baffled by this situation. They flinch when they see Lawrence grab a cup from the cup holder, filled with water.
Of course, Harper knows better when Lawrence gives it to them.
"Drink it," Lawrence urges.
It takes all their energy to bite back the snarl in their voice. "I don't feel like taking a nap, but thanks for the offer."
Lawrence looks a little impressed. "I'm glad you've grown a brain, but I wasn't asking. Drink it."
They recoil further away from Lawrence, half of their back pressing into the car door behind them. "Fuck you, asshat."
"Your insults remind me of my eldest. Here's the deal, love, you either drink it willingly, or I force you."
The reminder Lawrence does indeed have a knife ready makes them scared, they'll admit, but not enough to act like this is all fine. Harper stares at the cup for a long moment before looking up at Lawrence. "Fine," they grit through clenched teeth.
Lawrence pats their cheek. "Good, you're learning!"
Harper hesitantly sips at the water. The cool liquid runs down their throat, soothing the dryness. Yet there's not a single doubt in their mind this is drugged, even if Lawrence didn't practically just confirm it for them. They can slightly taste the chalkiness of the crushed pills.
Lawrence watches them closely, and as he comes to another stoplight, he notices Harper is stalling, only having had a few small sips. "In the next five minutes, I better see all that water gone."
It reminds them of a parent scolding their child. They roll their eyes, but obey.
The last thing Harper sees are blurring traffic lights and Lawrence's honeyed voice.
"Sleep well, honey."
...
When Harper awakes, they find themself freezing cold. They have to practically pry their eyes open to see its dark. A basement.
Realization hits them hard. They try to get out of the cuffs around their wrists and ankles, but to no avail. It's hard to make out anything in the basement, but they find stuffed animals, blankets, and chains in the corner of the room. Harper prays that Lawrence doesn't treat his kids like this, at least. Surely not.
The door creaks open. Harper whips their head up to see Lawrence, smiling and descending the stairs. "It's already 1:00. You really slept in. I guess I'm not shocked, considering you haven't been getting any good sleep recently. You went to bed at 4:00 in the morning yesterday, so I can't blame you there."
At this point, Harper doesn't even know why they're shocked. "Right. You've been stalking me, too. How was that going for you? Learn anything else interesting?"
Lawrence seems to really ponder their question. "You did have a pretty dull life. It made me a little depressed just following you around. Even when you'd go out to parties you'd just get drunk and throw yourself on anyone who talked to you."
"Thanks for the observation." Harper's eye twitches.
He laughs. "Anyone can observe that, now that I think about it. But I do know everything there is to know about you. I know your history, your medical and criminal records, your likes and dislikes, and of course, your personality. I'd say I know more about you than your own family, but you haven't seen them in five years now!"
Harper's face burns red and it's becoming more difficult to breathe. "You say you love me and then you just talk a bunch of shit about me. How does that make sense?"
"I do love you," Lawrence says matter-of-factly. Harper can't believe how calm he sounds. "I'm just speaking my mind. Isn't that what partners do for each other?"
"Oh, so we can speak our minds? Okay, here's what I think: I think you're a lonely, crazed lunatic who's out of touch with reality. Here's some news, just because you get handed everything you want doesn't mean it's going to work with people, and certainly not me. And if you think I'm going to act like this is all okay, then you're seriously delusional."
Lawrence narrows his eyes. "So that's how it is, huh?"
Bold as their words may be, Harper doesn't even care. "Yeah, it really is."
"Alright." Lawrence stands there for a moment, cold eyes staring right down at Harper. Anger flashes in his eyes, and in a swift movement, he stomps on Harper's ankle, and the sound of a hideous snap echoes in the basement.
Harper screams shrilly, and soon their screams turn into wails of agony when Lawrence kicks them in the ribs. They try to crawl away, but Lawrence puts his shoe down on their back, keeping them pinned to the ground.
"Normally I'd say I don't want to hurt you, that this is all for your own good, but... I'd be lying if I said I don't enjoy this. I mean, look at you... you're normally so confident and witty, but now you're just a crying mess on the floor. My poor darling." He removes his shoe to kneel down, turning Harper so their back is on the basement floor. He grabs their face to look at him. "Do you want me to stop?"
Cringing from pain, Harper doesn't reply. They lift their head weakly to look at their ankle, breath hitching at the awful sight. It's swollen, already tinging purple. More tears cascade down their cheeks.
"Let me get these." Lawrence swipes his thumb underneath Harper's eyes, and much to Harper's disturbance, licks their tears right off his thumb. "Now you have two options, my love. Either you apologize to me and we can go upstairs and have lunch after I bandage you up, or you can stay down here with your broken ankle and starve for the night."
Harper tries to think logically, as much as the pain is making it hard to do so.
It was cold, they hadn't eaten in a while, and they just wanted this excruciating pain to stop. However, the thought of giving this man any kind of satisfaction left a bad taste in their mouth.
Harper gives him a scornful smile through their tears. "Fu-fuck you."
"What a shame." Lawrence stands back up. "I hope you'll be a little more appreciative by tomorrow, but if not, I have all the time in the world to make you into a more loving partner. See you tomorrow, honey."
TWs: food mention, mentions of religious symbolism, mentions of killing, killers and crime.
---
The smell of brown sugar lingered in the air like a crime scene. Nothing that indicated chaos had ensued, nothing that could point out the strength of my arm as I had mixed eggs and flour, the angry tears that had threatened to drop into the dough and make it salty, a notion that would have only made me madder and angrier.
There was no flour scattered over the table, for I had already cleaned it up, and no butter on the counter softened and ready to be used as sacrifice anymore. My mother used to say that cleaning is almost as important as baking. Cleaning as one baked was another form of release, I found out. I also discovered in between the creativity of baking cookies, amid lemon pies with burnt merengue and in the heart of blueberry muffins, that baking meant order. It meant control. Something I desperately craved and looked for every time it escaped the reach of my fingers in an eternal chase.
When the victims of this therapeutic release finally left the oven (this time they were brownies, and the broken flaky surface with the rich and decadent look of the chocolate was containing my anger and frustration), I felt the knot inside my chest loosen up. I left the vessel of all my negative emotions over the kitchen counter, not even bothering to look at them except for stabbing the middle with a toothpick and seeing it come clean.
Baking felt like order and in some way, I was feeling a cold and detached stance, looking at my creation as it cooled as I think gods might look down on the mortals they create. It was also part of the baking process, the feeling of disgust after everything was over and done with, of repulsion at the idea of having twisted something so humanly sickening as anger was and transforming it into something sweet and sugary most people seemed to associate with happiness.
Someone would always eat these sacrifices. Someone would always thank me for bringing the cookies I made when I had failed an important test, the muffins I baked while I cried from the frustration and anger of fighting with my friends over a stupid thing. And I loved how easy it was for them to take the treats from my hands. How easy it was to get rid of my negative feelings and use it for something good.
I often wonder if baking while happy would make it all taste different. None of what I have made so far has tasted as bitter as I was, nothing has ever tasted disgusting and abhorrent, or, at least, no one had told me so already.
The story would never change, it was a cycle. I studied in class that serial killers had a small chunk of time between victims called the “cooling-off period”. They did not find another victim, not because they knew it was risky, but because they had the fantasy of the replayed murder to satisfy that craving. I did not bake senselessly, it would be a waste of ingredients and time.
Baking was a therapy I could never refuse to find myself without. To kneel at the altar of everything I believed tarnished my soul and change it for a time in the kitchen, for good smells and better tastes.
I looked at the brownies again, cooling off on the counter. Another victim of feelings so big they would weigh me down and make me choke.
There’s a strange contradiction revealed by the naïveté and kindness demonstrated by humanity when faced with the universe: On Earth, humankind can step onto another continent, and without a thought, destroy the kindred civilizations found there through warfare and disease. But when they gaze up at the stars, they turn sentimental and believe that if extraterrestrial intelligences exist, they must be civilizations bound by universal, noble, moral constraints, as if cherishing and loving different forms of life are parts of a self-evident universal code of conduct.
I think it should be precisely the opposite: Let’s turn the kindness we show toward the stars to members of the human race on Earth and build up the trust and understanding between the different peoples and civilizations that make up humanity. But for the universe outside the solar system, we should be ever vigilant, and be ready to attribute the worst of intentions to any Others that might exist in space. For a fragile civilization like ours, this is without a doubt the most responsible path.
There is a fundamental difference between "men are dangerous" (wrong, bioessentialist) and "the patriarchy allows dangerous men to exist unchecked" (true).
A mini life update: I'm currently studying law for a month now. It's a lot of work, reading cases and judicial opinions everyday -- but thankfully today I've been given a few moments to take some "me time." I've resolved that when I have free time, I shall try (emphasis on that) for writing and other ways to unwind.
Rules: Share some insights into how you try and keep everything orderly in your writing! If you aren't sure to include, you might share:
File structures for organization
For every wip, there's a master file for the draft and the outline. The draft is self explanatory, while the outline consists more of the character descriptions, outline of the story, related ideas that I want to incorporate, sudden ideas I get when I'm writing the draft. Basically anything related to the wip that should not be in the draft is in that file, so I use headers and subheaders a lot. I used to have one masterfile for ALL wips, but then I realized how its easy to get lost in that file. When I'm not in the mood to work on the draft, I try to fill in the ideas that are in the outline master file.
What programs do you use? Handwriting? Are you a Word ,Ellipse or Google Docs practitioner?
Currently, all the files I have are in Google docs, but since there had been news of google deleting — I'm not sure about the right word, but it was something like censoring "sensitive" topics such that some parts could be deleted. So, I'm planning to move it on Ellipsus since there are really good reviews about it.
Do you have art or images that accompany your work? How do you keep them within their chapters?
Noooooooo but I would love to. Actually, I regret being not very artistic as a kid and letting the "bad drawings" tear me down. Right now, I'mt rying to learn how to draw. I do use images, but I'm very picky because it has to have the "right vibe." However, these are only on the visualization aspect of my outline file. My drafts do not have images, but In Death, Forever will have an interesting format.
Do you hold onto prompts, inspiration, or other writing resources in some meaningful way?
Yes! the prompts that I see potential with to incorporate are actually kept here in my tumblr drafts. Some prompts are actually used to expand the universe I have in my wips, like this one.
Leaving this as an open tag for anyone who likes to join as well!
