i’m still hoping to have the full version of this finished by the end of the month, but here’s a little sneak peek to tide you over until then 😊 thank you all so much for everything, especially those of you who have shared words of encouragement each year as i work my way through what has become my biggest (and most rewarding) yearly writing project. these pieces make me feel like i can still call myself a writer, and they’d never get written without your help. i hope you enjoy!
1.
Valentine shouldered his way through the heavy doors of the small elven-made castle that had been repurposed some centuries ago to serve as the Veronan mayor’s estate, swiping a woolen cap from his head and shaking rainwater irreverently from his cloak.
“It’s bloody pouring out there,” he grumbled, walking quickly down the main hall toward the little dais from which his uncle facilitated town meetings. “The stalls are closing until it clears, and I don’t blame --”
He stopped short when he saw that his uncle had a guest; a tall, broad-shouldered man dressed all in black -- which contrasted sharply with the stark white of his hair -- stood on the floor in front of the dais with strong arms crossed over his chest. It was the man’s sword, however, strapped across his back like a bow, that made the strongest impression on Valentine.
He turned narrowed eyes on his uncle.
“And who’s this?” he asked, venomous.
“Valentine,” his uncle began in a placating tone, “this is Geralt of --”
“A witcher,” Valentine spat.
“A witcher,” Escalus huffed, exasperated, “who I called here to give his professional opinion --”
“We haven’t any monsters here,” Valentine cut across coldly, his eyes flicking briefly to the man in black’s back. “I told you, what we need is a sorcerer.”
“What makes you say that?” the witcher spoke for the first time, turning to regard Valentine with sharp yellow eyes like a raptor’s. Valentine felt gooseflesh skitter up his arms and the back of his neck.
“What has my uncle told you?” he asked in response, darting another glare at the mayor.
“He says that something stalks your townspeople nightly,” the witcher relayed. “Whatever this thing is, it doesn’t leave survivors, meaning that no one has gotten a very good look at it. Before you arrived he’d just mentioned that the remains of its victims are only barely recognizable. Yet you don’t believe that this is within my purview as a witcher. May I ask why not?”
“It isn’t within your purview because it isn’t a thing.” Valentine curled shaking hands into fists at his sides, lifting his chin to meet the witcher’s unsettling gaze more directly. “It’s my brother.”
i love that my existence on this site can be summarized into making the zelda fandom cry for five years and punching a hole in the tenuous grasp on reality former homestucks who like bnha possess and since i have laryngitis and can't audibly speak or laugh for the foreseeable future i've compiled yet more of my favorite tags on the "justin briner is a homestuck" post so you can laugh/cry in my stead:
my dude you have no idea
thanks! me too!
this one killed me tbh
and then there's THIS ONE:
you: let deku say fuck
us, intellectuals: you fool. you imbecile, he has been saying fuck for years
there's the few who accept the inevitability of cyclical nature:
and of course the smattering of despair that permeates us all
A major factor in my sluggishness with art is my grandpa's death. Yeah, it was in May, but he was my first and best teacher. If it weren't for him, I probably wouldn't be pursuing a career in art.
I think doing the five stages of grief for my final project in Painting class is like a final goodbye.
