His sister said he was of the "somewhat tall" variety (a rather untrue remark if ever one was made, as his ears could have brushed the clouds were he to stand straight, but it was just as well since his sister was eye level with some mountain tops so perhaps to her he was indeed only "somewhat tall"), and that dusty brown hair seemed to always be in need of trimming but still made a home for itself atop his head. As far as everything else goes, you might consider him to be quite like a firecracker: either temporarily dormant and packed with energy waiting to be released (either visual, audial, or both at once) -- or presently bursting with s

It is dim and drab at dusk; the only colors in this place are gray like storm clouds and brown like the soft sand that settles after a large wind. Ash and dust coats the ground of the frozen city and the entire place feels as though it has been holding its breath, watching, waiting for something fantastic. The fires and embers that once burned here have long since died out, and all life fled. This, of course, only attracted the Wanderer. A time-traveler of a humble background, he often sought places of peace after long adventures. What better place than where the War began, the epicenter of all destruction, where no life can grow and all peo

My mother doesn't understand the way I think; no one I've ever met has. It is easy to name a color, you know. That's what she did every time. The sky is blue, the grass is green, the sun is yellow (but I wouldn't advise looking to see). But there's so much more! If you leave it as simple as purple, one person will imagine a much warmer, red-filled purple than another who will imagine a dustier, murkier, yellow-tinted purple. There's the lime green in the sea, and the emerald green when the brilliance of the sun's rays sets the shades dancing with the current, and the smokey hint to the shadows created by wind and light, and the blues like a j

I know such stuff as Dreams are made on Not only in my sleep. I see the Arcs of the castle knights, off waltzing With the sheep. The dragons try to swoop And slay and destroy my world of Dreams But when I wake I Dream the more, My attention many seek. I know such stuff as Dreams are made on Seen lands I've never been, nor exist In this world or still the next, known to Only my fair kin. The faeries play; Their hips do taunt, sly fingers too, and When comes the night escape 'till day. I know such stuff as Dreams are made on And find myself a slave. I know such stuff as Dreams are made on Say truth, I cannot lie; I do not Fear the end of year