There was mewling from the alley; such pitiful sound in the quiet of night. Jess stopped as she walked, wrapping her arms around herself just a little tighter. She didn't need to go down the alley. She didn't need whatever hard luck case waited, crying into the night its sorrow. But soon her feet, crunching the snow softly, turned toward the sound and carried her by overflowing trashcans, rancid food, cardboard boxes, and other waste left to rot.
Jess followed the sound, pausing occasionally to gain her bearings, until she came to the back of the alley. Facing an overturned box, she chewed her lip, the sound distinct and sad. Carefully, she
How long had it been since the family amassed on the shores of their home?
How long had it been since he'd look at her face?
Ciaran still wouldn't look in her direction. It didn't matter that they were of the same Suit. They were on opposite sides of this debate.
Reue's voice rose, anger in the usually pleasant, sad girl. "Someone needs to tell them. Warn them."
"It's not what we do," Ciaran replied, not looking up. "We counsel. We don't make changes."
"What do you think counselling is, Ruin?" Aithne demanded coldly, and her very voice plunged him into memories. "We make change all the time."
"That may be true in an individual's life,"
Excerpt from Devotion
I have been sitting at the table on the balcony of the rented room I took the night before. The sun has set, but the sky is that dark bruise I've come to admire and crave seeing. Brazil is beautiful, no doubt, and the ocean roars not too far from where I sit. I can hear the screaming laughter of children melding perfectly with the cry of the sea.
It's been over two thousand years since I was a child, since I learned what it was to truly lose my innocence. Not just physically, but in every way innocence can be stripped from you. For most of those two thousand years, I've been chasing the thief who blinded me with wealth, security, and title i
Title: Cracked Serenity
Characters: Alasdair, Evan, Lachlan
Origin: World of Egaea (WIP)
Word count: 1,917
Evan sighed happily as he climbed up into his favorite bower with his sketch pad and charcoal sticks. The birds were about today, the weather warm, mild, absolutely perfect for a sketching session amongst the branches and broad leaves of the tall tree. He sat, propping himself up against the two pillows he kept stowed away in the perch. It was always a joy to draw outside, and the island of Yve was unlike any other place he had visited in all his travels. Even in the storm season, Yve was brimming with life. The gods