So much to read, and never ever enough time! I’m more than halfway done with my book, which is absolutely wild to me. This has gone so fast and been so much work! So proud of how it’s coming out.
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from China
seen from Colombia
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from China
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Philippines
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Japan
seen from Germany
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Poland
seen from Germany
So much to read, and never ever enough time! I’m more than halfway done with my book, which is absolutely wild to me. This has gone so fast and been so much work! So proud of how it’s coming out.
After Ahl-ten
We're already two nights, two campsites, set- and packed up, and two entire days of traveling further, and, still, Maeliv is giving me the stink-eye for killing the demon child in Ahl-ten.
She's getting on my nerves.
I keep telling her:
We arrived at a location leveled and razed by dragon fire. Spots of sand had turned to glass, clearly exposing places of direct impact; and from these places you could, in conic shapes, follow the shadows of the immediately evaporated, to the ones reduced to smoldering coal, to all that was left, burning, whether wood or incinerated flesh.
In the middle of this all, stood a crying girl.
Six years old, one would reckon.
As the sole survivor.
I keep telling her, these types of unlikelihoods don't jive with me, but I don't share if that girl hadn't had black eyes, glancing, and shining as if searching for a mind to corrupt or overtake, I wouldn't have hesitated to swing my blade, either. I just say, we were lucky to catch the witch while she was still recuperating.
Maeliv, however, saw something pure.
I scratched my head, stating I can go along with that, but not with the fact we should risk our entire party to death to exorcise a demon from a susceptible vessel: if the kid was possessed by something powerful enough to be a town-razer, she — or all that made her, she — died at the very second of possession.
This was all for the sake of argument.
Blade to my chest, I will not defend there was anything pure living behind this carefully curated facade of arguable innocence: six years old, one would reckon, to her knees, and sobbing. Quite audibly. Grimy and black-blue-beaten.
Yet — what, sec, gave her away —, alive.
Alive, at the center of this spiral of death.
She was an insult to human weaknesses.
Maybe, I am awake now, jotting down this memoir for the sake of nothingness, because I am contemplating, weighing, and doubting my own humanity. I only know what I've lost, because, I see, in Maeliv, remaining, all that I once had and therein all that I don't want her to lose:
An open gaze, without calculating the sway of the tip of a blade, and by no shield, obscured. Faith, perhaps. Belief in good, beyond evil's eradication.
I watch her.
Maybe, Maeliv sleeps, surrounded by fireflies, that dart to-and-fro, guarding her and flashing brightly upon impact with the chased-away mosquitos, because her dreams are too important to this world.
For all my steel, I do not guard her like that.
Eye contact. Tonight, Maeliv will not sleep. She keeps one eye on me. Too tired to be angry. I grin. There is one kind of magic, still, I tolerate.
She smiles at our shared paranoia.
I know what she is, and I know what she can be. I do not know if I can trust the most holy instance of my heart, anymore. But I can go another night without sleep, contemplating controlling enchantments, and the naturally human spells that bind souls; not perfectly, but, eerily and cruelly similar. I can stay awake searching for that one conclusive answer as to why all I want to do is to love her.
In want, my ire burns.
The fireflies, disperse.
She closes her eyes, and in that second of relaxation she seems so beautifully vulnerable. Still smiling. Almost timidly, as if naked. I muster all my restraint not to caress her cheek. Surely I'd break her softness. My fingernails turning to claws, again, and I have only seconds to decide what to do with them.
I flee the scene.
Howling at the full moon in agony.
Thinking about how Gillion would compare Chip to the sun.
Thinking about how he’d look at Chip and realise that he was a child of Aster the same way Gillion was of Lunadeyis.
Thinking about how he’d see the freckles across Chip’s cheeks and body, and be convinced, surely at first, that they were his own set of stars. How he’d have it explained that it were marks from rays of sunlight, and realise quickly that it was a gift from the goddess herself. How he’d compare it to his own markings, the blue and orange stripes over his own flesh.
Thinking about how Gillion is so connected to the water, and how he’s helped Chip slowly embraced his fire. The way they reflect and balance each-other, so much like the sun and moon. Gillion would notice too, Chip might try to ignore the thought.
Thinking about the poetry Gillion might’ve read, the sun and the moon’s tragic romance. Maybe he’d see connections between them, relate a little, find a strange sense of power in proving them wrong, in holding Chip and Jay close besides their differences. Maybe he’d worry that destiny would tear them apart too.
Thinking about how Gillion would talk to the moon, to Lunadeyis, recalling stories and telling her about his companions. There’d never be any reply, but he figured it would be lonely where she was, watching from the sky. He hoped it might bring her some comfort, he hoped she was watching.
That’s all I got for now, thinking about my little guys (squeezes them in my hands)
BtB Throwback… Stirring the old feels as I plod along with chapter 9 of HHU…these Hyūgas….💔
Writing an MC who is petty is definitely a favorite, one who doesn't give a damn about others opinion on how they're dealing with the loses, one who is just ready to cause a little chaos. Chapelle Roan's song My Kink Is Karma just fits.
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Despite having written close to 25k words this month, I have been SLACKING on making any type of "Six Sentence Sunday" or "WIP Wednesday" Posts. Partially because my NaNoWriMo Project is a secret gift. Partially because I have been cursed by an eldritch deity and never know peace.
Anyway. To each and every one of you who continues to tag me - you're gems. Sweethearts. Sparkles of Light on my bad days. I love and appreciate each of you, even if I do it silently from my little corner of the world.
Setting the emotions aside now.
Here are as many sentences as I feel like sharing from my project. Because I've been quiet lately and ya'll deserve more than just six measly sentences for not abandoning me. (And if you're from the CO Fandom, know that I'm coming back to all my SnowBaz WIPs as soon as I finish this beast)
An Excerpt from Chapter XI
As I finish Erwin’s request, I level my gaze back on him. Finding his eyes with my own, there’s a look, an intensity, in them that leaves my mouth dry. There’s a question flying in the blue of his irises, a curiosity that I want to sate. What does he want from me? Swallowing, I lean forwards in my seat. Propping my elbows on the table, even though Erwin told me that proper nobles keep their elbows off the tops of tables and desks. “How much of this is true?” Erwin’s eyes flash at my question, and he leans in himself. Bringing our heads close enough together that I can smell the tea and cream from breakfast on his breath. “What do you think?” “I think I’m not being told everything,” anything, “and that’s on purpose.” Apparently, that was the right thing to say as Erwin grins at me. And again, I’m struck with how much he reminds me of that boy who’s name I can’t recall. Brilliant white teeth and pink lips that soften his angular face. The sight stirs something reminiscent in my gut. I’m half tempted to ask Erwin if he feels it too, if I remind him of someone from his own childhood. But before I can gather the courage to potentially make a fool of myself if I’m wrong, Erwin is asking more questions of me. “And why would they do that? Why not tell you, tell everyone the truth?” “The same reason anyone avoids the truth, because they have something to hide.” It’s an easy answer. One of the first lessons that Kenny taught me. Everyone has something to hide, and if you can find that truth in an individual you can best them every time. “Exactly,” Erwin agrees with me as he pushes the books we’ve been studying away from us. “So what could the royals and nobles be hiding from us?” At that, I’m stumped and shrug my shoulders. Erwin deflates with me, almost like he was expecting me to actually have the answer to that question. He does think I’m a noble, maybe the idiot thinks I have some secrets. It wouldn’t shock me to discover that he wants to use me for something. He’s clearly working against the nobility in some regard, and I’m sure having a noble on his side could be beneficial. But if he thinks I’m going to be some grand advantage, he’s surely mistaken. I’m nothing more than a good fighter and decent thief. “I think we’ve covered enough for today,” Erwin redirects the conversation suddenly. Moving to restack the books and parchment we’ve been using all afternoon.
Consider the Tags below as both a Hello, but also How are you all doing?
Aang: *trying to be nonchalant*
Zuko: "I don't know what you feel guilty about, but get that look off your face before you get arrested."