#rizbef writes

[rizbefwrites]

Feeling the urge to play BG3 again but scared it will take over writing brain space and time. Chapter 28 (transition from Circle Tower to Zevran to Redcliffe) is kiiiiilling me - so many things need to happen in a particular order and it's not giving me the nice chapter mini arc I like 🫩

[rizbefwrites]

Top 10 Fictional Crushes

Thanks for the tag @jukkaricity!

There are a lot of women on this considering how straight I am. I can't explain it. In no particular order:

This was fun! If you see this and haven't had a chance, do it and tag me so I can see!

[rizbefwrites]

Unrelated this is my cat Clove who does this pose when she is ready for bed and waiting for me to get the hint

[rizbefwrites]

My mother-in-law took me to a candle making workshop with her friends. I made a Morrigan themed candle with white sage, lavender, and chamomile scent. Then everyone went around and explained why they named their candle what they did and I don't know, there is something about the juxtaposition of "I love apple pie!" and "I accidentally wrote my protagonist into a love triangle involving this fictional woman and it keeps me up at night."

[rizbefwrites]

WIP Wednesday

(thursday) (wordsday?)

Thanks to @jukkaricity for the tag! I am new to how this works so still working out the conventions!

I'm on Chapter 14 out of 53ish of my Origins rewrite (Zenith of the Black Sky), at around 46k words right now. I first started writing it because I just wanted a little Dragon Age novel just for me, but now I want somebody else to love Enid and her arc with me, so preparing to share her some day. I've been sitting on this Prologue for literally a decade (had kids, got busy, whoops)...and I'll probably revise it again at some point.

Prologue

The trees burned. Clan members hacked frantically at the ornate  yokes of their wooden landships. The sails smoked, small holes appearing as hot ash rained down. The many halla strained against their straps, white fur glistening with sweat, their twisted branchlike antlers waving at the sky as they managed to escape one by one, bleating a terrible note as they fled into the forest depths. 

“Mamae!” a child cried through the smoke, embers striking her flushed cheeks as torched leaves fell around the forest floor. Fingers of flame caressed her bare ankles as she sprinted through the glowing underbrush.

“Mamae!” she screamed again, now hoarse from the hot smoke and desperation tearing at her lungs and throat.

“I am here, Da’len,” came a panic-stricken voice through the haze. “Enid, I am here!” 

A hand on her hand, an arm beneath her body sweeping her from her feet. Her mother’s smooth cheek nestled itself to her own as they hurried through the collapsing forest. 

Enid coughed several times, vomiting over her mother’s shoulder as the woman continued maneuvering away from the heart of the flames.

“Stay with me, Da’len, tell me you are with me.”

“I am here, Mamae…” she coughed, feebly wiping her mouth, eyes shut tight against the hot and gritty air.

“We are almost out, Da’len…”

~*~

Voices. Angry voices. Enid could not open her eyes. Her entire body ached. The vicious stabbing in her temple was met in severity only by the parched pleas of her throat.

“Do you think they’ll come for us? The elves?” The voice belonged to a small boy.

“Don’t be stupid, Alfric,” hissed a young girl whose voice Enid also did not recognize.

“It’s not stupid, Hannah! We have one of their people and the other one got herself killed - that won’t make them very happy!”

“Mum is taking care of her - they won’t kill us for that!”

“The blacksmith said they eat children over stuff like this!”

“If you really believed that, you wouldn’t be in this room!”

Enid could hardly process the children’s argument, so strong was her thirst.

“Water,--” she rasped.

“It’s awake!” shouted the girl.

“Water…” Enid started to cry, though no tears spilled.

“Mum, the elf is awake!” yelled the boy.

“The poor thing will want some water,” a woman said. As Enid realized there was a bed beneath her and furs covering her small frame, she heard feet shuffling toward her across what she assumed was a bedroom floor.

“Here you go, dear. Drink a little if you can.”

She felt a soft hand lift her head gently. Enid complied with a small whimper as soon as the cup touched her lips, feeling the coolness of the water travel all the way to her stomach.

“Mamae…” she managed.

“What’s she saying?” the boy whispered. “Mama? She wants her mum? But—”

“Hush, Alfric.”

Enid’s face crinkled with discomfort. She could not drink much more from the pain in her throat, so the woman set the cup aside. The woman’s cool hand touched her forehead, four fingers as smooth and chilled as stones by the riverbed. They brought comfort.

“I’m going to change your bandages now, little one.”

The hand moved from Enid’s forehead to her forearm. Belatedly, she registered that it was indeed in significant pain. As the cloth came unraveled, a pain so white hot and sharp flew through her that consciousness fled from her yet again.

~*~

What happened to my mother? Nobody will tell me. Please, what happened to her?” 

Enid was sitting up in bed, head on her knees, injured arm outstretched. The woman dabbed elfroot ointment over the nearly healed burns. The woman’s name was Lorena. She lived in this house with her husband and their two young children, her stomach overlarge with a third. For two weeks now she had cared for Enid’s wounds, though not all damage could be healed with poultices, bandages, and elfroot. 

“Enid, please…” she replied in a placating tone. They had been through this before.

Tears welled in the young girl’s eyes as she steadfastly watched Lorena rewrap the bandage around her arm.  “Please, I need her. Where has she gone? When will she be back?”

Lorena sighed and was surprised to find tears springing from her own eyes. She closed her eyes to will them away before she spoke. “She is gone, child. She… she perished in the fire. The other villagers were able to keep the flames in line, but--” she took a breath then to gather herself. “But your mother is gone.”

Enid’s face flattened. She gently removed her arm from Lorena’s hold and laid down, face to the wall.

“Forgive me, little one. I could not bear to tell you when your health was so poor.”

“How did I get away?” Enid whimpered. 

“Your mother made it to the edge of the forest with you, where we were dousing the tree line. I found you and took you in to heal your wounds.”

“But I was so sick. I don’t understand. Why am I alive? Why is she gone? Why didn’t you save her too?” Her little voice cracked and then the sobbing began. Quiet, wracking sobs that shook the entire cot. 

“The villagers… they…” Lorena could not speak another word. The child is too young. Too young to know such things. She should never know the truth.

“Did they kill her?” Enid asked darkly, her voice thick with tears. “Did they kill my mother?”

The answer tied itself to the edge of the woman’s tongue, refusing to come out.

Enid sniffed. “Because she’s an elf? Or because she’s a mage?”

Lorena reached out and brushed the child’s black hair away from her pale face, caressing her cheek with her thumb. “I would not let them kill you, too. Andraste preserve me, I would not let them harm a child.”

Suddenly the room’s single glass window pane glazed over with frost. It creaked from the rapid temperature change, threatening to shatter beneath its new blue crust. Lorena snatched her hand away from the girl’s cheek with a gasp. Her breath hovered as a mist in the cooled air.

“Leave me be,” Enid murmured.

“O-of course, child.”

Lorena exited the room as swiftly as she could, her hips straining as her own child kicked her ribs from the inside. She nearly toppled her husband Eamon as she stumbled into the hallway. 

“How is she?” Eamon asked, eyes darting to the closed bedroom door, slammed a little too quickly for his comfort.

She shook her head and heaved a sigh, though her voice still wavered. “The child is a mage, Eamon. Send for the templars.”

[rizbefwrites]

I hurt my own feelings with my made up characters in my chosen setting with my imagined series of events.

[rizbefwrites]

tryna go to sleep on a Sunday night cuz I got therapy and work at early o' clock but I caaaan't because I just came up with my cover idea 😭

^-- this is a bowerbird, which collects items to decorate its nest. The whole story starts with the idea of an empty nest, turns down the hoarder lane, and then deals with themes of parenthood. I loved my grandmother's bird book and always thought this bird was so interesting. Not a picture per say. But look at the composition for this bird's whole being.

i also love that its name sounds like "borrower" bird

EDIT: turns out the decorated bower is NOT its nest but that makes it even BETTER because a hoarded house is not the same things as a home 😭😭😭😭

this book is gonna wreck me

I also finished Chapter 3 tonight - it needs heavy revisions but it is DOWN at a hefty 4900 words, roughly.

[rizbefwrites]

Balancing reading and writing

I feel so full of questions - I used to be a 100+ books a year reader. In 2025 I read less than 20 and in 2026 I'm at... 5. But hear me out - most of 2025 I was making progress on my giant Dragon Age fanfiction. Now in 2026 I've been extremely busy with Mom's Situation and now writing about it to process ~*le trauma*~ I feel so guilty on the one hand for how little I've been reading. I also feel like it's understandable given the circumstances. The guilt came back recently because things have lightened up now that she's moved. But I feel so compelled to write that reading anything feels like 1) time lost and 2) potential contamination.

How do you balance reading and writing?