Manuscript Search Tag Game
Taking an open tag from @akindofmagictoo and applying it to Frostbitten Prophet! The words I’m looking for are tired, turn, tear, and throw.
“Tired,” Navaeli stated, keeping her eyes closed. Maybe they would go away if she remained uninteresting.
Or maybe not. Her unseen companion sighed, and a hand lightly trailed through Navaeli’s hair. “So,” they began, voice soft with awe. “Will you tell me a story?”
In a wordless daze, all the older Frostbiter children stepped into the parlor and went about fixing furniture, sweeping up broken glass, and generally setting everything that had been overturned back into place. It was like cleaning up after rowdy play but with the additional chore of wiping up blood. Navaeli wanted to contribute, but Snow took one look at her and ordered her to lay down.
Reluctantly, Meparik helped in her stead. If he had to be here at all, then he might as well be a good guest, if only to spite Snow, who probably didn’t expect it of him.
Ainzel gave them a warm nod and then turned back to the refugees. “All of you are welcomed here as well. Anyone who is unable or unwilling to fight the Irongardhe with us, follow this healer to our refugee tent. You will be sent to Ullua for your own safety.” The silver-robed fey beckoned them forward, and Ainzel then nodded to the leather-armored fey. “Those who are bold and old enough to go to war, follow this soldier to the training grounds. You will be examined, tested, and assigned a regiment.”
Nervous whispers floated over the grass as fey shuffled off into their given categories. Hugs and tears were exchanged as people went their separate ways. Charlan ducked his head and quietly made his way to the healer, ushering children like Merlie and Verlin along with him. Amid the somber crowd, Gildhe immediately marched to the soldier’s side, their jaw clenched and their stride vengeful.
Climbing and hiding, that was easy for him. He’d climbed so many walls and roofs back in Talimour. Sometimes, it was just the easiest way to escape a mugger, or a bully. Other times, it just put you closer to the sky. The clouds, the stars, the soothing winds. No people. Just peace.
Except, there was someone else high up in the trees with him — Meparik froze as Ainzel’s dry laughter sounded from above. Viviane cawed from her shoulder, and the crow’s gaze drifted between his mussed hair, torn robes, and dirty hands. Ainzel seemed pleased. “Vivaine tells me that you’ve stained your ceremonial attire already. Tsk. And you ruined your hair before Morekai got a single word of his speech out. He will throw quite the fit, won’t he?”
Smugly, Meparik found a sturdy branch to perch on. “Let him,” he signed between wiping his palms off on his robes. “I am beholden to no men and no gods!”
