The Cold Moment - 9 (end) "Broody! Snap out of it, Broody!" He heard Varric call to him as he gagged down the substance pouring into him, desperate to clear the way for breathing.The Cold Moment - 9 (end)1 week ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
All at once his eyes were in terrible pain and everything blurred before him. He pressed them tightly closed, lost, confused, suffocating.
"Varric?!" He gasped between heaves.
"Just keep drinking the healing potions! Here, this is another one!" The dwarf's voice instructed him.
Soothed slightly by the sound, Fenris did not struggle against the next bout of liquid to glide down the back of his throat. Hurt fading slowly away, he carefully opened his eyes when they ceased to throb, not at all eager to see the corpses again. But, they were no longer there. His eyes blessedly free from the illusion forced upon him, he looked about to decipher reality. Isabela was keeping demons and shades at bay while Varric, who stood beside him, administered to his injuries with potions. Quickly, he searched for Hawke,
Fire (very much microfiction)Fire.Fire (very much microfiction)4 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
It consumes; relentless, without a care of who it burns or whose mind it scars.
For flames, the easiest prey is the weakest, the timber which lays upon the forest floor. Without the tepid, frail souls, it can not progress.
It works its way up from the deepest caverns with only a spark, and grows until it is a monster to be feared. It sheds no light on the worthy, but illuminates the darkest corners of the most tenebrous rooms.
Fire moves quickly and imperturbably from prey to prey and leaves nothing for the weak.
So then, tell me:
In what way is this rubiginous apparition any different from humans such as ourselves?