#shtiya writes

[thehatchlinghoard]

Mint

So cold.

Dotan opened his eyes. His breath fogged in front of him as he made his way to the cooking area, weaving between the round platforms in front of Weiss's kitchen. Multiple fires blazed merrily underneath the kettles, illuminating the Mirror darting from one to the other, seemingly unaffected by the chill of the air. “Morning Weiss.”

The dragoness pushed her glasses up her nose and squinted at him with all four of her eyes. A smile broke out on her face and she motioned for the Pearlcatcher to come closer. She laughed when he hesitated, grabbed his wrist with a paw of her own and pulled him through the gap in the stone counter, into the kitchen itself. “Come in, this one is glad for company.”

She darted to a cauldron that smelled of mint, leaving Dotan to warm his paws by another cooking fire. She produced a bowl from somewhere, scooped up part of the mixture and pushed it underneath his nose. “Tea. For warmth.” She pressed a paw against his stomach. “Warm inside is warm outside. This one knows.”

Dotan stiffened. Weiss removed her paw, still holding the bowl in front of him. He took it from her, slowly, which earned him a quick grin before the Mirror was off to another one of her bubbling concoctions. He sniffed at the mixture, frowned, took a sip. It sent a chill up his nose, but not in a bad way. He sipped some more. A warm feeling spread through his throat and stomach. He drank more.

“This one told you,” Weiss said with a flick of her tail. Her eyes glinted in the orange light.

“I guess you did.” Dotan smiled at her. “But I never doubted you in the first place.”

“Tch. Sure that one did.” She slipped between him and the fire, brushing him with the tip of a wing. “But this one doesn't mind.”

A herb was throw into another pot, a sweet smell spread into the air. The Mirror stirred, nodded to herself and added some white powder. “Salt,” she said when she noticed him looking. “Good for taste. Important for good sleep too. This one trades with Maren for it.”

“Really?” “Mhm. Took many tries, but this one showed this one wasn't a threat.” “Ah.”

Dotan looked into his tea. “How does one do that?”

“Trade secret. This one can not tell you everything of course.” A wink from two eyes.

“Of course.” He smiled, lowered his gaze again. Took a shaking breath while studying his own reflection in the green-tinted surface. But the courage he was looking for wasn't there. His paws clutched the bowl tighter, nails digging into wood smoothed out by years of handling, years of dipping and tasting and serving.

“You can. This one likes even silent company.”

Dotan lifted his head. Weiss was smiling, her hands busy above the cauldron with another batch of herbs. “Tancha will not come before dawn.” She lifted her head and motioned to the fourth fire. “This one won't walk in that space. Sit there.”

He moved. Leaned against a pile of sacks, one side turned towards the fire. Weiss refilled his tea when the bowl was empty. She smoothed down his mane with a touch soft as a butterfly's landing. She didn't say anything else.

He left when the sun broke through the pale clouds.

[shtish]

Bosco

Contains: swearing and a dog

“Okay okay okay, but... dude, you gotta... you gotta...” he leans towards me, liquor bottle in hand as his far away eyes try to focus on me. “You gotta..... tell me...” His breath smells like a distillery. “How you started yourrrrr career.....”

I smile, grab the bottle from him and tip the remainder of the vodka into my own mouth. It leaves a burning trail down my throat. “All right, I'll tell you. If....” I motion for him to get closer. His head falls into my lap as he tips over, too drunk to sit up properly. The giggles are muffled by the fabric of my shawl, but I can still feel them. I lean down and whisper into his ear instead. “...you buy me another bottle.”

“Dealllllllll” he stretches out the L, using the time to push himself up straight again, grabbing for the bottle and missing it. He almost tips over again, falling into another bout of giggles. “Oh dude, you gotta.... Yhou gotta...”

“I know, I know, tell you.” I grin, leaning my back against the cool stone of the wall behind me. My head's tipped back, trying to catch a glimpse of the sky above the alleyway. His head sinks to my shoulder, the short hairs on his head tickling my cheek. He's silent now. Only our breathing makes sound. I look up again.

“I used to have a dog.” “Dog....'s a good animal to have,” he interrupts. “I know, I had one.” “Jusssssayin.” “Shush, I'm telling the story here.”

He snorts, leaning heavier into me. The only thing between our legs is the bottle that I put there. I continue. “So I had this dog. Big, muscly, short tail. A face that looked like it'd been hit by a truck. Rescue mutt, saved him from a dumpster. Always looked stoic, but got overexcited by about everything.” I can't help but grin. “He'd go nuts when he got a scrap of carrot. Or when I stood up and reached for my vest because it was cold. Thought we were going for a walk.”

I'm silent for a moment. His breathing is slowing, but his eyes are still focused in the general direction of my nose. Good. I pick up the story again.

“So one day. There's this big event. In the park. I got to take Bosco too. There were lots of dogs around, some playmates. Those tiny rats people call Chihuahuas were too delicate according to the people in my flat. Never let them near him. Would pick 'em up as soon as they saw his nose peek around a corner. But parks were good. He'd get to show that smile of his. Always one tooth sticking out further than the other. Heh.” I grin to myself. “I'd call him Snafflefang sometimes. Big lug liked that. Would try to murder my furniture.”

He's closing his eyes now. The alcohol in my stomach is burning through the cold of the night. It's getting later than I wanted it to be. Well, nothing I can do about that now.

“So we get to the park. Bos is excited, putting his nose everywhere it does not belong. I'm basically dragged to every corner while he does his stuff. And then it gets late and we have to go back home. And he does this one thing. This one, bloody, goddamned thing that I had been working on training him out of. He sticks his big nose up this poodle's ass. Like, right fucking up it. Hellbeast starts screaming bloody murder, like its insides were being ripped to pieces or something. And the dude that was holding the leash just starts yelling at Bos, going on about how he's ugly and how can such an imbecile like me have access to a dog that's trying to kill his precious princess.”

He's silent. His hand has fallen down into my own lap. I poke him. No response. His breathing has gone quiet too. I lift my hand and feel his neck, searching for that little beating lub-dub. Nothing.

I sigh and gently slide his hand out of my lap. I push my elbow against the unyielding wall and gingerly stand up while the world mills around me. Fuck. Knew I shouldn't have drunk half of that bottle. I turn my head and watch his body. He's fallen all the way down. Like he's asleep. I should finish the story.

“So that guy was my first kill.”

Silence. I shrug.

“You're number 139. Way better company than that douchebag. Don't take it personally.”

I almost forget to take enough from his wallet for another bottle. Almost. I manage to get up again. The wall tries to dodge with every step I take. Shit. Fuck. Damn.

Tomorrow is going to be hell.

[shtish]

Paperthin

He never knew that she was made of things stronger than paper and a broken home.

He would do it all. Just for her. He would open doors, carry bags, kiss her when she had a hard time. He would walk in front of her and protect her from anyone who dared to laugh. He would hold her hand at night and call her up in the morning. He would make her laugh and give her flowers.

Then he wanted other things. He wanted her to cook. He wanted her to clean. He wanted her to get down on her knees and take care of him. He ordered her to give him the phone each time her friends called. He hid her from the world.

And then one day he put his hands on her. Grabbed her wrist and twisted it. Punched her in her face. Slammed her into the wall with a sickening crunch.

They found him laying on the floor with black and red all over his body, and stillness in his wide open eyes.

Somewhere in the night there was a girl. Red on her white skin and freedom in her eyes. Running. Running. Running. She was made of ancient trees, fearsome storms and infinite stars. And she was never going back.

[shtish]

Massive Effect

I- I am going to die. Huh, strange thought. I never thought I would die sharing my final breath with the stars around me. O wait. I'm not. Well, not technically. Since there is no air here. But hey, let me dream, okay? These are my final moments. Very final indeed. They say death is a great equalizer, well guess what? None of you bitches get to die in space like I do. And they said it couldn't be done. They said my wings would shatter the moment I would fly out of the safe atmosphere around this little planet of mine. It's called Rhea by the way. Why did I say that? I know why my planet is called Rhea. Who am I even talking to? Might be the pressure. The sense of losing oxygen. Facing your inevitable doom... Tssk. Aren't I just a lovely little ray of sunshine. Dying up here. All alone, with nothing but the stars... Harsh man. Very harsh. Rhea is smiling at me. Her green oceans blazing bright. I swam in those once you know. A long time ago when my wings were young and my feet still had their webbing. We're all born in the sea. Crawl out of our eggs... Swim to the shore and take our first walk there. We only get our wings when we say goodbye to the water. And when we start trying to reach the sky. Reach the stars, far up. They are so beautiful from here. I always wondered how they would feel if I could touch them. When I was just a hatchling I tried to eat them. Never managed to do that though. Maybe I was lucky I didn't manage it. They say stars are very hot. And huge. I wish I could look at them longer. I wish I could return to Rhea. But coming up here was my choice. And it as always been that. My own path. My choice. And I think it's good. I get to see the moon from close up. It's lovely. Very lovely indeed. Why am I even saying this out lous? I use more oxygen this way. Who is even listening? Not like I bothered to install a radio inside this mess. Oh god, my wings... They are hurting now. The feathers look so cold... Everything is cold. So freezing cold. Mother never told me it would be cold. She gave me her blessing and helped with boosting me up. Said I would be fine. Liar. I could try to reach the moon. The smaller one. I promised her I would at least try to get there. Maybe it'll warm my wings up. I don't know. I've never been in space. Touching the moon would be cool though. Hey mom, see this? Look at me! Up here! Could she even see me? I don't think so. I'm too small... Just a tiny, little speck. It's getting harder to breathe now. The oxygen is almost gone. My feet are numb. I can't move my fingers. My wings feel wrong.... Oh gods, I wish I had more time.... Just... a few... more......... seconds...........

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This was written while listening to this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pp5b1vROT4w&list=PLOW2BkUof4mdNaEzqm4TbisXxJD4Q1oOn&index=1

The prompts are written/recorded by the tumblr user maxkirin​, who is very awesome and someone you should definitely follow.

And for now, just remember...

SPAAAAAAAAAAAAAACE!

[shtish]

Hmm... That piece just looks wrong... Maybe I can put some more black here? Maybe. Or I could make it a bit more blue over here, that would bring out the silhouet... Or perhaps over there? Mmmmyes. That would be the best place. Now just to mix the colors...     Just as I dipped my pencil into the most eye-searing blue I had, the door flew open with a bang. 'What the-?! MEENA!'     My sister was standing in the dooropening. I could see her from the corner of my eyes, but my attention was on my painting. Instead of the calm, pretty colors that were supposed to be there, there was a giant neon-colored blotch of blue vomit. Oh damn. The only thing I could think of was the cloth right next to me. I grabbed it, threw terpentine over it and tried removing the newest addition to my "Starry Nights" painting. It did not work.     I had been working on that damned thing for over three weeks! And then she just had to barge in like that and- and- RUIN IT ALL! 'Gods be damned, what did you do that for?! Our rent depends on this damned piece of cloth, and you just make me throw this- this- STUFF ALL OVER IT!'          She did not react at first. Typical. She knew I was working, she knew we needed the money if we wanted to stay in our appartment, but she still had no consideration for me when I was working. It just made me so angry at her, I just- UGH!     I realised I couldn't save the painting anymore. Great. Another month of bread and water. I glowered in Meena's direction with the most intimidating stare I could muster.     Meena is three years younger than me, and a real girly-girl. Always wearing pink dresses, frills everywhere, pretty little curls with not a single hair out of place framing her head... The perfect annoying little sister.     But this time she looked different. Her hair was wild, her dress looked... torn? I forgot the painting the second I saw her. Worry replaced the anger and I ran over to her, grabbing her arms.     'Meena! Who hurt you? What happened? Are you okay?' The questions flew out of my mouth quicker than I ever thought they could. I stared intently at her face. Her dark eyes met mine... And I didn't see any tears. Instead of answering my questions, she started giggling. 'Big brother, you have blue in your hair. You look silly.'     I let go of her arms, lifted my hands up and touched my hair. They came back blue. I sighed in exasparation, but I smiled as well. Meena was not hurt. She was okay! It was then that I noticed she was holding something in her arms. I knelt in front of her and tried to get a look at it. She met my eyes with a serious expression. 'You have to promise to be quiet, or you'll scare Skittles.' 'Skittles?' I asked. She nodded and proceeded to show me what she was holding. Two bright blue eyes looked up at me. They belonged to a small, black kitten that was curled up against Meena's chest. She smiled at me and held her arms out.     Skittles turned out to be very light. Meena looked on while I carefully lifted the kitten up into the air, getting a good look at it. Then I sat down, crossing my legs and holding the tiny cat in my arms. My sister sat down beside me and patted its head. The kitten seemed to consider its options for a moment... And then started to purr. I actually sold that painting for quite a lot of money.

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