#xeula

[mcdraenei-blog]

TMI TUESDAY!

I've got some older questions that I'll answer throughout the day. But, I'm taking new ones too!

Ask anything to, or about, my characters. Anything at all, and I will answer! But be warned: I'll ask you a character question right back. Anon is on.

[mcdraenei-blog]

TMI Tuesday: Family!

On this edition of TMI Tuesday, send me an ask or two about my character's family. Anything from dynamics, to specific relationships, to traditions, to feuds – all family related topics count!

[mcdraenei-blog]

Ter. Ehrm. I.

It's TMI Tuesday. That special time of the week in which it's socially acceptable to ask fun, prying, or inappropriate questions to, or about, any of my characters!

But, be warned! Those who ask will be questioned in return!

[mcdraenei-blog]

TMI Tuesday

I'm late to the party! D: But, if you're up for some more TMI Tuesday fun, despite the time, feel free to send a question (about one of my OCs) my way! Embarrass me if you want to. >:3

As always, I'll send you a question in return.

[mcdraenei-blog]

How does Xeula feel about the fact that, it seems, many or most of the Shadows plan to go through the portal?

So many names. So many faces. So many people that she had come to care for — all of them preparing to cross into uncertainty. To fight an unknown enemy in a too familiar world. Familiar but not quite right.

The list of names, of volunteers, felt heavy in her hand as Xeula looked it over. So many beloved, all of them forfeiting freedom, and maybe life, to chase after the slightest of hopes.

A breath caught in her throat as her eyes fell on a particularly skillfully calligraphed name: Mikkaelos. 

Dread filled her lungs like too much sea water, her breath shallow and sharp. It was true, then. He was going. She had found her son only to lose him again.

[mcdraenei-blog]

I seem to remember that Mikkaelos is unshod, is that so? Does Xeula keep her hooves shod?

He is unshod. He has never, nor will he ever, nail metal shoes to the bottom of his hooves. He thinks that wearing shoes is unnatural, lol, and he doesn't have a problem telling people that (…of course).

He does wear decorative gilding on his hooves for special occasions, but those can clip on and tie without the need to actually penetrate his hooves with any kind of nails or tacks.

Xeula also keeps her hooves unshod. In her case, it has more to do with a desire to keep her hooves as light and natural as possible for dance. She hasn’t danced in decades. Even so, I doubt that she could ever bring herself to willingly weigh her hooves down with stiff metal.

khanaa-runestrider

[mcdraenei-blog]

TMI Tuesdaaaaay

I'm home sick (and pretty miserable >_<). Would you distract me with a TMI Tuesday question or two? I'll send you one in return.

Direct your questions to/about Mikkaelos, Xeula, and Haevah. <3

[mcdraenei-blog]

Entry #12: If I fall asleep, I die

Prompt #13 – Oct. 22nd, 2014: Your character knows she is going to be murdered in less than 24 hours. How does she know this, and how is she so sure? What would she do if the day went by…uneventfully?

(( Another silly moment from Xeula's past - a continuation of Entry #11: Feathered creatures creeping in the night. Mikkruutov is Mikkaelos' father. ))

The drape of Mikkruutov's arm around Xeula's shoulders felt more like a restraint than it did a circle of comfort and safety. He meant well, she knew, but his intentions did not make the feathery swarm just outside their door disperse. In fact, in the last hour or so that Xeula had lay awake, holding as still as she could, more of these creatures had come. They continued to titter darkly, and as more time passed, she began to recognize a pattern. They had words — she knew it. Two titters combined with a gravely chirrup. A clucking whir bleeding into five rapid fire chirps. The rise and fall of music-like tone.

Fear prickled along her scalp then shivered from the base of her neck to tail tip, fine hair raising in its wake. With some effort, the sleep-deprived woman freed herself from her husbands slumbering hold, slipped to the edge of the bed, and rose, tip-hoofing with all the grace of a dancer towards the windows. Anxiety urged her to turn, to flee, but she pushed past the instinct, doing her damnedest not to imagine the feeling of a hundred waxy-soft feather tips slithering along the back of her neck — a precursor to the frenzied bite of a blood-starved swarm fighting for their fill. She squared her shoulders against another shiver down her spine.

Quick thinking had her lower herself into the chair nearest to, but not directly beneath, a window. It would be best to remain just out of sight. Her hands laid to rest over the tabletop before her, a hands reach away from her staff. They were coming and she would be ready.

-----

Xeula awoke with a start, jerking her head up from the tabletop, unaware of the frizzy lengths of silvery hair that had caught around one of her horns. Sunlight streamed in from the window throwing a spotlight onto the gently steaming plate that someone had set before her. A number of small bird-like roasts glistened in center of the plate, a mouthwatering aroma drifting toward her.

“I thought I'd kill two birds with one stone this morning,” Mikkruutov appeared behind her, gently untangling the mass of hair from around her horn. “Bird number one: breakfast. Bird number two: sleep. I doubt that your feathered friends will be much of a bother to you now.” She could hear the self-satisfied smile in his tone.