THIS CONTEST'S THEME: WATER
The main theme MUST be used to the best of your ability. This means more than a mere mention.
SUBMIT TO CONTEST FOLDER. I shall open one up as soon as this journal is posted. Each time the contest ends, the entries in the folder will be moved and the folder will be empty for the next contest.
Entry MUST FOLLOW THE RULES of the group.
ONLY ONE ENTRY PER PERSON. It makes it easier to judge, this way.
ONE ENTRY MEANS ONE PIECE. However, there is one exception. If you decide that you want to make a chapter story or a collection of one-shots of ONLY CONTEST THEMES, you will be permitted.
Every entry MUST BE MADE FOR THE CONTEST. No existing work will be allowed. It must be created specifically with this contest in mind.
All judging will take place by an outside source.
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Feet off the ground"This is idiotic." Garsiv grumbled, arms crossed.
He sat back against the bench, crushing the cushion behind him.
"You'll never learn with an attidude like that, Garsiv."
He pulled a long scarf over his head. The innocence behind his expression didn't fade.
Garsiv rolled his eyes.
"Obviously, you've never spoken to a single one of my tutors."
"And why in the world are you wearing that on your head?"
Dastan blinked once before straightening up.
"Ah! It's to help you envision the female form." He said proudly, as if it made total and complete sense.
Garsiv stared at him in silence.
"Nevermind that. Just concentrate."
"You're going to do somethig stupid. I know you will." He groaned in defeat.
Whether or not his brother's help would work, he had no choice but to accept it, lest his brother actually have a decent idea the one time he was truly willing to use it.
"...her name is Camille."
"And what do you think of when you think of Camille?"
"Well certainly n
Why now?You shouldn't have been standing there. You were too busy focused on me to even think of looking up.
They splintered you with little effort.
Don't struggle, anything but that. You'll only make it come faster.
You'll only hasten what is already moments away.
Why couldn't I see it? Why didn't I know to call you back?
How could I have been so foolish?
I allowed myself to get caught up in your eyes, that glimmer of faith you still had in me...
Even when all else proved me wicked and unjust.
You still believed me.
Your initial anger clouded you and led you to attack me. But when you had me cornered, weaponless, alone... you knew the truth within yourself.
So why now must you be silenced? Why now when we see eye to eye? Why now when you've finally realized how deep your trust in me settles?
Why now when I realize how deep my love for you flows?
Now of all times... when your scent seems so much more potent.
When your voice seems so very soothing in the midst of all this madness.
Brother why n
Not My Blood: Chap. 7Dastan tossed in his sleep, uneasy. His breath hitched as he writhed, his muscles tensed.
How cold the night could grow when the sun went to rest. The sands made a grainy whistle in the wind's current, clinking against the stone walls.
He turned over on his side in efforts to find more silks or satins- anything to keep himself warm.
Each covering was draped over him snugly, his body nearly curling into the bed itself.
'Think of warmer things.' He urged himself.
In his mind's eye, Dastan could recall the sweltering heat of the day time sands. He remembered the sweat that ran down his neck, the blister in the air with each breath along the wall.
The heat that engulfed him with his brother's embrace.
'No... not that.'
Garsiv's hold had been all but a fire on his back and his waist.
Such a stir within him, such a spark in his groin...
A light knock took him from his thoughts.
The call was familiar and welcome. He thanked the gods in
Not My Blood"Dastan, you're as slow as ever."
"Then what on Earth would that make you, Brother?"
The two moved in synchronized rhythm along the stone walls of Persia's noble castle. Stones and other loose rubbled seemingly scattered in a sort of poetic fear of their sparring. Sparring which truthfully could have been taken as a battle for blood to eyes that were unfamiliar with the height to which rivalry can grow.
Garsiv sneered the quip, swinging the blade above his head and bringing it down to his brother's side.
The other swiftly parried before contact could be made.
"Yet you continue to fight. Would it not be easier to simply-"
A flick of the wrist, a twist of the blade-
Garsiv was disarmed.
"...Damn it." He murmured.
Reluctantly, he extended a hand to the victor.
Dastan grinned, taking it with his own hand.
"I must admit brother, you do show a good lesson in humility."
Garsiv's frown bent upward.
"Is that so?"
With all he could muster he pulled forward, throwing Dast
Don't Hold Your Breath"No shoving."
"Yes." They answered in unison.
"Tus, you're being a fool now." Garsiv scoffed, splashing water in the elder's direction.
He pulled up the light cloth around his waist, turning in his younger brother's direction.
"After all, even he understands that street behavior belongs only in the slums."
Dastan's stance wilted slightly. His brother's words, though spoken in jest, were sharp.
He simply nodded in response.
"Well then, let us begin."
Tus stood to the side of them both, holding a hand in the air.
"To the east port and back. A hand must make contact for victory."
He swiftly swung his wrist down, commencing the race.
Garsiv broke forward with great force, leaving a great distance between himself and the other boy.
"Damn it." Dastan hissed, striding forward.
He was already behind. How was he so much slower?
Swimming was never his greatest strength, but still he could not understand why his brother moved as a nymph while he struggl
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