Combine paper zepplins, strange people and an accident prone girl for a recipe of chaos, laughs and bruises galore (intro.)
Soft, lilting notes filled the tiny room and the ears of Delphas, a young woman with somewhat of a dishevelled appearance. Her long, blonde hair was held up into a wonky shaped bun upon her head with several strands sticking out and down to the neat but heavily (and often) repaired leather clothing she often wore under the protective, but heavy and noisy layer of mail.
Her small, slender fingers made a slow, circling motion over the object where the soft, gentle song that makes one think of the sun and its rays of warm light, an orb of sparkling light. Tilting her head to the side, Delphas softly sang a brief note in return to the notes emitting from the sphere. The sphere soon changed colours for a brief moment from a soft golden hue to the gentle green of a spring plant before returning to the soft golden light.
The winter boughs are stark.
Burned by the frost to seem dead beneath the snow.
But life remains, however comatose in the cold.
With warmth comes the blossom - then the fruit itself.
Fragrant with hope and promise.
Sparking pleasure in the heart like the laugh of a child, or an unexpected gift from a friend.
(Picture below break)
Rasheek bit into an apple and worked it around his beak noisily, making happy warbling sounds. Stooping low, he added another apple to the growing pile clutched tightly against his chest by his left paw.
At that moment, Daevra was walking through the Mage Quarter to her rented room when Blossom, her wildkin hatchling, squawked! The Draenei girl looked down. "Hrm? What is it?"
By the apple tree, Rasheek looked up, quickly turning his head from left to right at the sound before his eyes fell upon the lil' moonkin. Daevra eyed the bigger moonkin up and down, the creature returning the favor by staring down at the Draenei. Blossom chirrrrrred happily!
Oh, but what is it, to feast on love?
To feast on life?
To gaze on high?
To gaze above?
But, of all my ecstasy...
Of all my pain, and agony...
One simple delight, fills my heart.
The apple, red, and bright.
'Tis such a... Delicious treat.
Crunchy, and smooth
Bitter, or sweet.
The way it shines in the light
Like a woman's teeth, before the ending night.
The way red skin.
The gentle drip.
Drip, drip, drip...
The way it tastes, upon my tongue.
Like the chorus of a funeral is sung.
Watch it ooze, watch it drip.
From my jagged dagger tip.
The life always fades, their eyes always dull.
'Tis but a sweet, gentle song.
There were once orchards
In this dark forest.
(( I'm really enjoying this as a chance to show little snippets about the character that don't necessarily show up in-game or aren't enough to make a full story out of. Here are my first ten for Quetsul--I'll post more later, but I don't want to do too many at once!))
Liore takes a rag, rubbing caked dust out of the captain's quarters' windows on the Smarmy Sprocket. He peers out to the greenery surrounding the landed zeppelin. His other hand held a bright green apple, and he sat back in the captain's chair, feet propped up on the table as he turns the fruity globe around in his hand. Apples were his favorite fruit, and he didn't hesitate to take a big tart bite out of the juicy flesh. He purrs in delight, enjoying a quiet afternoon.
The mechanic pokes his head into the makeshift workshop in the cargo bay of the Sprocket. Tools and Scrap metal cluster around the entire bay, and a pair of matte black wolves stare idly forward. Their bodies slender and metallic, ready for innovation. Their skulls were open, and wires hung out of their brain cases where Adalynn had begun work on them earlier. He pat the beasts on the snouts. "Be good, boys."
(( First entry for the 50 Words, 50 Short Stories challenge! ))
It was always an intense rush of feeling after jumping, the way the air would whip about when you were in a free fall was exhilarating. He would wait to activate the slow falling spell until the last second, and then would float gently to the ground.
((My first entry for the 50 Word, 50 Short Story writing exercise))
A tower amidst many in Silvermoon City seems to catch fire like all the other towers of white and gold under the morning sunlight. A balcony door opens and out steps the Priestess, wearing a robe of clean white cotton as her only armor against the chill of the dawn. She takes a slow, deep breath… and a small smile curves full lips. Eternal spring in Eversong, perhaps – but she can still taste the scent of autumn in the air.
She'd just tucked herself back into bed after flushing the full bowl of stew, she wasn't hungry but she'd be yelled at if she didn't eat, when the door to her quarters in the Keep opened and then slammed shut.
Eric woke up, lying on his back. Above him, the sun was shining through the trees of this dense forest that appeared out of nowhere. Last he remembered, he was talking to his sister. Then a loud noise and... nothing. It was late at night then, so he figured he must had been sleeping for a while.
The children grinned, but Kharris felt the blood drain from her face. Suddenly a cool breeze pushed through her and made her shiver. She automatically put down the squash she had been inspecting and stared openly at the mix of young Shattrath children. She pulled her cloak tighter with one hand and clutched her bag with the other.
They were playing, in that horrifying way children often do, at bobbing for apples in the Hallow's End tubs. One had his hand on the back of a smaller boy's head and pushed the littler one's face into the water. The apples in the tub bobbed and mingled around the laughter of the children.
Kharris turned on her heel and practically threw her coins at the vegetable cart keeper. She walked away briskly with clipped steps of someone frightened. She was frowning and pale, still, when she reached the door to Iloam's apartment.