an excerpt of something your sibling once wrote. they never did finish this particular book, but the half-written manuscript was published nevertheless. it was received by the townsfolk as an indulgent, imaginative sort of work, fueled by the author’s well-known affinity for the strange and unknown.
you remember when they first started writing this. they had come to you talking of dreams — wild, dizzying things of mist and smoke — and whispered in a tongue you both did not comprehend.
from what you recall, el abandoned the project when they grew frustrated at their inability to transcribe the details of the dream. not that you worried, back then; el’s interests waxed and waned with the moon, and it was never long before a new fascination gripped them and their pen.
not game-related, just some things i’ve written over the past few months for classes that i’m actually decently happy with. links open to dropbox pdfs!
ICARUS –– personal essay / warning for animal injury.
KNIFE SAFETY –– poetry / warning for allusions to self-harm.
DEATH-DEFYING: A NECROMANCER’S GUIDE –– short story / warning for body horror.
a letter finds you at dawn, its edge peeking up from the corner of your bag. it is a clean, innocuous thing, cream-coloured parchment sealed in scarlet. the wax curves into the neat, clean lines of a raven's beak.
who is it to? yourself, you presume, though the letter does not say.
who is it from? this, too, the letter does not deign to reveal.
ohhh noble my beloved... you, my friend, have excellent taste. also sry i ended up writing everything in lapslock and then got too lazy to edit it lmAO
[ dressed . help my muse put on an article of clothing . ]
CONTEXT —— pre-game ; the hunter travels briefly with noble's team as she leads a hunt.
YOU FEEL THE WEIGHT of her presence before she arrives. then, like a shaft of sunlight peeking through the clouds, noble is there, arms folded across her chest as she leans against the door. "you're taking your time, hunter."
"no one else is ready yet," you retort, even as you fumble with the straps of the vest. your fingers are clumsy in the cold, and your arms feel impossibly heavy. it's the first day on this hunt, but noble's team sets a brutal pace, and you hate to admit that you struggle to keep up. but you do keep up.
a pale eyebrow quirks upwards. "well, i'm ready," she returns bluntly, and then she is beside you. "besides," she continues, and you resist the urge to turn away from her unwavering gaze, "i know the rest of the team like the back of my hand, and they'll be good to go before i walk out of this tent. you, though?"
her gaze shifts; the line of her lips turns almost wry, but she doesn't answer her own question. instead, she gestures to the vest. "may i?"
your curiosity wins out. you nod distractedly as you cast your senses outwards, your magic spider-light as it washes over the small camp. the colours — every colour and none at all — spiral around noble like a miniature snowstorm, a dizzying kaleidescope at the corner of your vision. then, beyond, the aether buzzes as the team readies themselves for the wilderness once more.
you blink yourself free after a heartbeat, but not before you look back at noble. in the brief moment, not but an inch away, she is scarcely human — the gold-flecked eyes of something sharp and wild, the fleeting impression of the biting cold of a hostile mountaintop, stealing your breath with a ravenous hunger.
noble says something indecipherable, and your magic fades.
"hunter," she repeats, giving you a firm squeeze on the shoulder, "you still in there? don't go spacing out yet, the day's just started."
with effort, you manage a nod — was it really a good idea to tap into your magic with her standing right there? — and she bites back what might have been a laugh.
"gods, you look like a deer caught in the headlights. once you're done—" she waves a hand vaguely. "—processing, grab whatever coffee summers' is making and then we'll set off." she doesn't wait for confirmation, just whirls back out of the tent the same way that she came.
The current Director of the Vanguard, having taken over from the previous leader three years ago. Confident, ambitious, and driven, she's been involved in the Vanguard's top brass ever since her early twenties, and played an integral role in establishing the Vanguard's current direction and status. Where the previous Director concentrated on the research and magical elements of combating the Rot, Noble made sure that the Vanguard's hunters were the best of the best. It was under her leadership that the Vanguard brought down its first most noteworthy prey -- a white dragon driven to madness with the Rot.
That being said, Noble's early days were filled with controversy, albeit mostly within the Vanguard itself. Arguments with other senior staff were not uncommon regarding tactics, hunt selections, and handling of hunters, and her stubborn streak often meant that she'd take her team and march out of the office more often than not, committed to the mission with a vicious efficiency.
In the present day, Noble remains a leader more prone to flights of fancy than her predecessor. She is seldom found in the office in the Vanguard's headquarters, often preferring to take spontaneous trips to check in on the various teams scattered around the region. That being said, one would be wise not to mistake her penchant for travel as inattentiveness to her responsibility or authority; duty comes to her as naturally as instinct, and she is steadfast in her commitment to protect others to the best of her ability.
50 years late to answering this! Decided to knock this out in a quick little writing sprint, I’ll probably go back and realise it’s full of spelling / grammar errors and awkward expressions later on but for now, enjoy!
They've left the music on again. It's a habit of theirs, you've come to realise -- Lux and Mallory have never been comfortable with the silence, though the two show it differently. You've never asked either why, but you can hazard a guess: out on the field, in the dead of night, the silence is all-encompassing. You could get lost in it, if you're not careful.
The portable speaker isn’t really the best in terms of quality and the music comes out a little tinny, but it's enough to fill the silence, enough to make the four walls of the crappy motel room feel a little less hollow. You're all used to the feeling, having grown into the habit of making an emergency pit-stop for the team to catch their breath and lick their wounds, but it's nice to notice the little things sometimes. Makes you feel less burnt out.
Makes you less worried that one day, your luck's going to run out. How many times can you stitch a body back together again before it falls apart?
"Penny for your thoughts?" A voice interrupts your daze. The springs of the bed squeak.
You look up. Lux has moved from their perch at the end of the bed, where they were sitting to change a bandage on their arm. Nothing too gnarly, but they'd gotten a little too close for comfort in a previous scuffle. Your gaze turns critical -- are they still favouring that arm? Was it worse than you thought?
To your silence, they arch a brow. "You're doing it again."
"Huh?"
"Overthinking." Their expression is wry, but their voice remains low. Gentle. "You and our dear doctor both, always lost in your heads."
You blink. Register the comment. "Hey now-"
"It isn't always a bad thing." Lux is quick to raise their hands, a faux surrender, though you think they’re more amused by your defensiveness than anything. "But it's really not doing you any favours right now."
Somewhere in the background, the music's changed -- it's something a little slower, the lowest of the bass notes struggling to be picked up over the speaker. Not that it's at the forefront of your attention right now anyway; you're more distracted by the way Lux reaches out and tugs gently on your wrist instead, pulling you up.
cer!! draping a blanket for mal or raine if you're feeling up to it? either or is fine, i love them both but i imagine they don't take breaks often enough
Kind of mixed the two together a little here!! It also ran away from me a little and ended up around ~690 words even though I tried to give myself a time limit writing it which... didn’t work LMAO
Prompt answer under the cut. Enjoy!
The hunt hadn't finished until after dark. Not but an hour prior, you two had stumbled past the city's walls with your heart still pounding somewhere in your throat, weapons held in white-knuckled grips. There had been a creature right behind you, stopped barely in time by the barriers, but that — you draw a deep breath, grounding yourself — that is a problem for tomorrow.
For now, you're safe. You're still pacing, though, limbs shaky with fading adrenaline. It's a miracle that you somehow haven't spilled any of the drink that Mallory's fixed up for you as soon as you hit home — a post-mission ritual of sorts that he has, to make a bee-line for the kitchen and brew some fresh coffee. It's for himself, normally, but it hadn't taken long for one mug to turn to two. Your favourite one has your initials on it now, hand-drawn in permanent marker and marked with a little smiley face.
You brush your fingers over the ceramic idly, a thought catching on the periphery of your mind. "Hey, Mal?" You pause in your pacing. Turn. You swear he was right there a moment ago.
"Mal?" How on earth does he keep doing that?
You backtrack to the kitchen and follow the trail of disarray: the other mug of coffee, barely touched, still set on the counter. The jacket messily draped over the back of an armchair. Then, there — the culprit himself, curled up on the edge of the sofa.
It's a curious sight. Mallory doesn't relax; not in any noticeable way, unless he's asleep — he loses that tension he always holds in his back like he's bracing against a hit, limbs now held loosely, the angles of his face softer now. He looks… different. Unguarded.
You don't blame him, really. How long have you two been up, anyway? At least a full day for you; probably longer for him, since he was the one who called in the sighting. There's a blanket folded at the edge of the sofa for situations like these (you think you ought to be mildly concerned for the fact that he is perpetually prepared to be exhausted enough to pass out on the couch), and you're careful as you reach over the back of the sofa and pull it gently over him.
The blanket catches on the edge of his tail. His eyes flutter open slowly. Oops.
He speaks first, voice low, sleepy, peering up at the edge blanket grasped in your hand. "Are you stealing that?"
"What— I'm helping you." You turn to place the mug down, just so you can have both hands on the blanket when you give it a tug. "Or maybe I should steal it. Payback for when you took my jacket."
"Oh, have mercy," he says, huffing out a laugh, and you half-expect it when he raises his hand to grasp your wrist lightly. "And leave me to freeze? Who else is going to personally cause problems for you every day?"
"Maybe. Think about how peaceful my life would be." You're precariously off-balance, the back of the sofa jutting into your hip. "No more spontaneous 'hey let's do this stupid thing, I swear it'll be fun!' messages at three in the morning."
"Nonsense, I'll figure out how to set up an automated system specifically to annoy you." He's grinning still, but it's a lopsided, lazy sort of smile. It only takes a light pull, and then you're letting yourself fall, less than gracefully, toppling over the back of the sofa to land on him.
"Mal I swear—"
"Truce, truce—" He's somehow wrangled the blanket out of your hands already, carefully lifting it to drape over the both of you. "I'll keep pestering you later, don't worry, but for now I promise I'll actually shut up."
You open your mouth to protest, but it's quick to fade. It's warm. "Truce." Were you this tired before? Your eyelids already feel heavy. "You gotta make me another drink later though, that one's getting cold."
You feel his laugh rather than hear it, a quiet sort of rumble in his chest. "Deal."
