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eiraws · 2 years

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𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑽𝑨𝑹𝑰𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵𝑺 ⊹ 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗜 : AUDITION DAY.

❛ 　 🦢 　 𝗰𝗲, 𝗾𝘂'𝗼𝗻 𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗲 𝘂𝗻𝗲 𝗿𝗮𝗶𝘀𝗼𝗻 𝗱𝗲 𝘃𝗶𝘃𝗿𝗲 —- 　 𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘥𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘳 　 ❞

/ 𝚂𝙾𝙻𝙾 .

𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐎　 .　 𝐈　 (　 D　 ♭　 major　 )

A delicate figure, carved out of glass and brittle kaolin, stands atop an ivory platform. Her stage, painted with pale flowers and encrusted by rings of pastel tourmaline, remains dustless despite neglect. The tiny dancer is fragile in her carefully constructed features as she twirls to a haunting rendition of Tchaikovsky’s Swan Theme that floats through the air like an eerie lullaby. Her porcelain-edged grace remains unwavering as she is forced by some higher power—the winding of a clockwork key—to spin in the perpetual motions of a music box ballerina. Nothing is of her own volition but she doesn’t mind it because she has no mind at all, at least not one filled by anything but the desire to dance. She embodies perfection in its purest form, like a living angel or a symmetrical snowflake. And she dances as if she were free, or as if she longs to be. They say she cannot dance forever, that there is hesitation in perfection, in living the life of a doll pulled by invisible strings and turned by rusting cogs as the world looks on in pity. She pursues the stars but she cannot move and she longs to open doors that she cannot reach because the world is pulling her down like a weight. She holds the Earth’s sins and prejudices upon her shoulders like Atlas held the heavens but she continues to dance, pirouette after perfect pirouette.

And the ballerina lives behind rose-painted eyes and must be content with the world she sees, despite growing ambitions and desires, because her life is not her own. As a marionette and a pretty puppet, the world forges a path for her to walk and she cannot deviate or else she will break her little ceramic limbs and fissures will form upon every surface of her body until there is no redemption left for her.

But what if . . .

Eira remembers her audition day like it was a long-lost fever dream, vividly in flashes but never with much certainty as she would like to recall it. It is there, somewhere nestled in the back of her mind in a box labelled, The Beginning, the true turning point of her life. The choice to audition for an entertainment had been half on a whim, a friend of hers from the dance academy having mentioned it to her once around the time she’d felt like her world was caving in on her at all sides. It was a time when she could no longer bare to even look directly in the mirrors lining studio walls for fear that the only thing she’d see in them was a shell of the passionate girl she’d been before. And more greatly, for fear that the only person staring back at her would be herself. It was a time when she’d never felt more alone, in need of something to validate her existence beyond what she could achieve solely in a pair of pointe shoes.

Angelfish Entertainment’s auditions had called to her like a pied piper, entered her palms like a little sliver of grace. So the ballerina shows up at the building on the open call audition day, fully prepared yet entirely hesitant. And she is alone. She hadn’t told anyone she’d be auditioning and that’s what she’d thought would be best if the circumstance arises in which she fails. It’d kill her, she thinks, to see disappointment in someone’s gaze or to be criticised for making what she knows they would think to be a mistake. However standing there amongst a sea of other trainee hopefuls, Eira thinks she should have at least brought a friend.

* * *

She might not entirely remember the events of the day or what occurred between the moments of entering and auditioning and leaving, but what has stuck to her with utter permanence would be her movements and the dance she’d performed. She’d entered the room in her usual whimsical nature, breezing through the necessary introductions without faltering her words despite what eats at the core of her mind. She thinks it had been nervousness, but in her own way she would always be too proud to admit it. If there was a confidence she had in anything, it would be in dance.

It had not been ballet she had performed but a gaze into her contemporary roots, a world she loved just as much but never had the same pressures as ballet had for her. Each step to the beat is something akin to freedom, the choreography unravelling in perfect clarity somewhere behind a veil in her mind. She remembers falling deep into the sort of delirium that only dance can bring her and she doesn’t even need anything else to captivate her assessors. It was and had been undeniable from the beginning of her time, that Gwyneira Jeon had been born for the stage.

* * *

It was a quick, sharp snapping of china clay somewhere in her figure that draws the tormenting melody to a gradual halt. The ballerina’s movements slow, becoming as rigid and still as the day and the music draws out until there’s only a staggering silence. The cracks, fine dark ridges, crawl up the side of her perfect porcelain face and run down her mid-pirouette figure, reaching the tips of her sculpted pointe shoes, and she shatters. Her kaolin body bursts because she is in such desperate disarray and can no longer hold the broken pieces of herself together. Little porcelain shards sprinkle around her ornate music-box in a slowed down motion that resembles feathers raining from heaven and when they fall they fall harshly, splintering into a million pieces. The air fills with the scent of silk and wilted rose-petals and the burning aftertaste of sulphur as she breaks away. As her cracked skin meets harsh painted ridges and the metal spikes of a key that was her master—not her freedom—her beloved prison crumbles and buries her, digging deep into her fragmented soul…

But the beautiful music box ballerina can no longer feel the pain.

Because she is free.

#・ 𓂃 ₊ 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖔 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖒𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖉 ┊ ( solos ) .#ws:open

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dcviated · 2 years

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soft intimacy meme || [ open ]

@nobleburn sent: 🎸 🎹Teach my muse how to play the guitar piano

There’s a light guilt that’s tickling within Eira’s mind as Nikolette continues to grace the ivory keys with her practiced hands. That she was a captive audience was genuine, but that she needed to be taught the scales and chords was not. A fact she neglected to bring up when the meanderings of a party together found a lone piano. The sight and resulting discussion prompted some unsurprising pride from her close friend. Eira may or may not have enabled the behavior.

It wasn’t difficult.

Oh, do you play miss von Brandt?

Do I play? Ahaha-- please.

The smile from her confidence lingered still on Eira’s features as they sit shoulder to shoulder on the bench with the Lunenburg noble on the higher octaves. Whenever a reach was made across Eira’s lap Eira had felt a small instinct to complete the movement herself. Though it wasn’t something she stuck to, part of her upbringing did involve rudimentary and discipline in several instruments; among them being the piano and violin.

But listening to Nikolette play, the foreign noble briefly wonders why she didn’t keep up with her practice. Not that there was ever any doubt that the piano was a lovely instrument, but the view of a skilled and practiced pianist one that elicited a fond light. It also brought Eira’s real musical talents to the surface. Even if it’s only showing as a gentle hum, it’s not hard to extrapolate that the woman knew the capabilities of her own chords.

After a few minutes of her rapt attention, Nikolette seeks a low octave for her chord, only to find that Eira’s hand was already in position. She presses down the triplet, then pulls her hand back. After a moment of surprise the knight-in-training can’t help but laugh. Arms fold across her chest and there’s the playing of a smirk behind lightly flushed features.

“I- I’m sorry. You were so caught up in showing me what you could do, before too long I felt guilty telling you that I too also knew how to play. I might have been enjoying your form of instruction and taken advantage, if my teachers were more like you I imagine I would have been much more passionate about the instrument. Not mad at me, are you? I was just having some harmless fun... you’re clearly much better than I am regardless.” She pauses, then asks a little more earnestly. “You’re not going to stop now, are you?”

#nobleburn #muse :: eira #inbox :: answered ic #heck heck heck #this was too much fun to answer #look at them

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saltyocs · 5 years

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Animal Crossing style OCs I did for a few friends over on my DeviantArt 🖤

(I am currently doing custom versions of these for $10, Message me through tumblr if interested!)

#mun art #animal crossing #original characters #Ivory Eira #Sable #Anice #Robin #Hope

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msb-lair · 3 years

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Clutch #2586 - Siowyn/Sionyn

Mated On: 2021-08-11 # of eggs: 3 Hatched On: 2021-08-16

Progeny:

Hatchling 6828 (Eira) - Gaoler Female, Soil Phantom/Honeydew Spirit/Ivory Blossom, Common - 15,000 on 2021-08-30

Hatchling 6829 (Adoette) - Gaoler Male, Dirt Phantom/Camo Spirit/Fern Blossom, Common - 15 gems on 2021-09-05

Hatchling 6830 (Laik) - Gaoler Male, Latte Phantom/Spring Spirit/Cobalt Blossom, Common - 13,845 on 2021-10-08

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cordoniantrash · 4 years

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Noël Dernier

Hello and welcome! This is my submission to day 8 of the The 12 Days of Ficmas, hosted by @leelee10898, with the prompt Last Christmas. Set sometime in the future, inspired by a line by Liam during a diamond scene in TRR 1. Huge thanks to @thequeennefertipi, who betaed and patiently held my hand through this. Spelling and grammatical errors are mine.

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Liam x MC

Rating: G

Warning: none

Words: 2121

Contributors: @hopefulmoonobject @allaboutchoices @zaffrenotes @cordoniantrash @burnsoslow @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @msjr0119 @texaskitten30 @janezillow @the-soot-sprite @mskaneko @blackcatkita @darley1101 @thecordoniandiaries @speedyoperarascalparty @ao719 @leelee10898 @cocomaxley @theroyalweisme @alj4890 @bbrandy2002 @cordoniansgonewild @god-save-the-keen @debramcg1106 @emichelle @annekebbphotography @brightpinkpeppercorn @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria

Readers: @dangerouseggseagleartisan @innerpostmentality @beardedoafdonutwagon @desiree-0816

my taglist:

@cora-nova, @thequeennefertipi @captain-kingliamsqueen @feralhuman-hsskkk @mirandatwodots @princesskennarys @emceesynonymroll @kingliam2019 @bobasheebaby @princess-geek @fbloveschoices @dcbbw @los-cafeteros @whovianwriter @vaticanwaltz @typicalweirdbookworm @cheyismaxi @lilaccatholic @supercoolperson0808 @twinkle-320 @mkatschoicesblog

It was the night before Christmas. Fairy lights twinkled merrily on many a window and the wind coming from the sea brought along a welcome chill in the air. Up the hill, the Royal Palace glittered: a bejewelled spectacle for the masses to marvel at. Inside the palace, the halls echoed with the combined sounds of many running feet, snatches of conversations and the tinkling of laughter.

The throne room was exquisitely decorated for the occasion. The room, made to look like a snowy landscape was decorated with centrepieces that glint in the light, fountains of champagne, silken curtains hanging on the walls and a string quartet that was stationed near one wall. The staff were at their designated places with the King and Queen and the little prince standing by the thrones, poised and ready to welcome their guests and start the gala.

Liam heard a sigh beside him. He turned and met his wife’s eyes. Cassie smirked and tilted her head towards a squirming Lucas. Sharing a fond look with Cassie, Liam knelt down and helped loosen up his son’s bow tie.

“Better?”

Lucas nodded then added, “How much longer, Dad?”

“Not too long now, dear.”

Lucas pouted, “Promise?”

Liam smiled. “Promise.”

He straightened up and took in the room one more time. Everything was in place. Liam felt a hand slip into his own. He turned and kissed Cassie’s hand, sharing another smile before they turned forward again. A beat passed.

The doors opened.

The guests entered, the music started, and the gala began.

As the nobles and other guests formed a line to greet the monarchs, Liam noticed a familiar face among the throng. It took a few minutes for the memories to resurface but recognition finally came along with wistfulness and a dawning sense of embarrassment.

It was Eira Blanchard in all her blonde-haired, eye-greyed glory, wearing an elegant green dress that showed off her slender frame. The diplomat’s daughter. A reminder of his life before Cassandra.

Beside him, his wife whispered, “Are you all right, love?”

Liam turned toward her and answered yes with a reassuring smile. He turned towards the line once more, physically there while his mind wandered off to the past and to a different party in another Christmas Eve.

−

Last Christmas, I gave you my heart…

−

Seven years ago, Paris, France…

He found her inside the embassy’s sitting room. Sheathed in ivory, she seemed to glow amidst the dark wood that decorated the room. These last few days saw him trying to gather the courage to confess his feelings. To put into words just how much their time together meant to him. How she meant to him.

As he walked into the room, taking care to make a noise to alert her of his presence, his mind wandered to his brother and friends and their reactions to what he was planning. He knew that they did not really think well of her. Leo thought her to be too self-constrained and Olivia thinks she’s too haughty. Maxwell added that she was too quiet while Drake thinks she’s boring. But Liam saw more than what was present in the surface. She was intelligent, ambitious yes, pragmatic too. But she was also kind and… and just perfect. She was the only one outside of his intimate circle that treated him as an equal. As a peer whose opinions matter.

Someone who matters just as much as the Crown Prince.

He knows that she saw him as more than just the quiet, dutiful spare.

At the sound of him entering the room, Eira turned, the skirt of her gown following her graceful movements. For a moment he felt dazed. Here was someone who was fit to be a queen, with the world at her feet. She certainly deserves nothing less, and although he can’t give it to her, being just the second son, he can and will give her his heart anyway. If she’ll have it.

Liam was shaken out of his thoughts when the first noble reached them. The night dragged on; the line moved steadily forward, bringing closer to where he and his family stood. He glanced at Cassandra, a question his eyes. She shook her head and smiled, taking a moment to squeeze his hand before turning to the next guest and engaging in small talk.

It all happened in a blur. One moment, Liam was talking to an ambassador, the next he was faced with wide grey eyes and an avalanche of memories. Ears burning, he nodded as she sank into a curtsy, ever the proper lady.

She spoke, voice cool, light and airy; just like the snow that fell on the windowpanes that night, all those years ago. He responded with the proper replies, face blank and voice betraying nothing. Both of them adhering to the script that they had been taught with all their lives.

Beside him, he could hear Cassandra making small talk, being an excellent hostess, despite the fact that they had been standing there for nearly an hour. Instinctively, he put his hand on the small of her back, the gesture meaning to provide her with support. It ended up being a reassurance for him.

Everything will be all right…

----

Grey eyes flickered, looking between husband and wife and briefly meeting warm brown before looking down as she sank into another curtsy, this time taking her leave. The royal couple, tonight being the incarnation of poise and hospitality, waved her on with more pleasantries before turning and welcoming another guest.

She walked away, as she had done that day, as she had done time and time again. Forever chasing and never quite reaching. Her heart clenched, her chest tightening slightly. She looked back, despite herself. He was talking softly with his wife, one hand on the small of her back, the other holding his son. His queen smiled, her hands resting on her little bump.

He looks happy.

Happier than he had been that night, or during the days she knew him. It was what he deserves, really. A home by the sea surrounded by family.

And yet…

Eira shook her head. Grabbing a flute of champagne, she wandered around the party feeling cold and empty amidst the revelry. Christmas had always been a melancholy time. Has been for years. Memories falling in place in her mind, recreating the way snow fell on the windowpanes in her apartment. Her biggest what-if being replayed in her mind, haunting her wherever she goes.

Seven years ago…

His confession still rang inside her mind. Last night had been more than she had hoped for. Eira could barely recall being as happy as she had been in that study, with the heat of the fire behind her and the warm brown of Liam’s eyes in front of her. Unbidden, words of acceptance spilt from her lips, her joy too much for one heart. He had taken her in his arms and spun her around, laughter and smiles shared between them. She could still see how his eyes lit up, could still feel the ghost of his lips on her forehead. His warm lips on hers. Soft, gentle and quivering into a smile.

In the cold light of the morning, the envelope lay on her desk. The acceptance letter cool in her hands. Her life-long dreams finally in her grasp. Eira looked out the window. He sent her a bouquet of lilies. She laid it next to her vase full of poppies.

She knows what to do. What she must do.

Eira could feel her heart break.

−

But the very next day, you gave it away

−

He avoided her like the plague throughout the night. It had started when she caught his eye as he was talking to a group of diplomats. Liam recognised the look in her eyes. Determination. For what, he did not know. A part of him does not want to know. He kept flitting in and out of groups keeping an eye out for Eira and ducking out whenever she came close. He felt silly doing it. It probably looked silly, judging by the confused looks that Cassandra kept on shooting him whenever he made his excuses.

Lucas, on the other hand, loved it. His son had taken to skipping away with him, giggling all the way. Liam always felt lighter during those moments. But it was nearly midnight and Lucas was already in bed, tucked in, safe and snug and so so loved.

Midnight saw him standing on the balcony. He had just finished a rather tedious conversation with some of the representatives in the foreign ministry and had needed a breather.

As he leaned his hands on the railings, he could hear snatches of conversations as voices from the ballroom carried to the balcony. He looked up. Spotlights moved in patterns across the sky, masking the stars. He allowed his posture to slip, his shoulders to release tension.

Just one more hour, he reminded himself. Then he and Cassie can finally make their excuses and retire for the night. Silently he went through a list in his mind. He had already asked the staff to draw a hot bath and requested a tray of her latest cravings to the kitchens. He just had to make sure to light the candles in the bathroom when they get back to their rooms and pamper his wife.

There was a shuffling noise on the other side of the balcony. Liam tensed. The hairs at the back of his neck stood up.

“Your Majesty.”

Eira Blanchard stood at the other side of the balcony, shadows blending into her green gown.

----

“My lady.” He inclined his head towards her. She returned his gesture before taking a few steps in his direction. Eira took in his appearance as she came closer. His hair was shorter, his stance more solid. More grounded. His eyes had hints of crinkles, a sure sign of someone always smiling.

Time’s been kind to you…

She also noticed the way his eyes flicked toward the door, his suddenly blank expression and the way he tensed. Her mind flashed back to the way he carried himself around his wife. She felt a weight drop to her stomach. But she still managed to straighten her back and arrange her face into something that resembles a smile. Taking a deep breath, she forged ahead.

“He looks like you…” she trailed off, unsure why she suddenly brought up this subject.

Liam’s stoic façade broke as confusion sank in. Eira could feel the corners of her lips twitch into a genuine smile. At least some things don’t change.

“Your son,” she clarified.

“Oh… uh—that’s kind of you to say,” Liam said, hands twitching. Eira looked down at her glass. She cast about for another way to keep the conversation going.

“Oh! I—ah, I’d like to offer congratulations as well.”

Liam’s smile was wider this time. “Thank you, Eira. I heard congratulations are in order for you as well. Your work in Africa was all Cassie could talk about last month.”

Eira flushed. “Thank you,” she murmured behind a growing smile. “It seems that I have a fan.”

Liam chuckled, his shoulders relaxing, eyes lighting up.

“She’s very passionate about these causes,” he said, visibly brightening up, “she’s already spearheaded several initiatives…”

Eira watched as Liam positively gushed about his wife, adoration clear on his voice and tone. Eira’s smile turned a touch melancholic. Something within her heart unclenched.

“It sounds like you’ve built a good life here,” she mused during a lull in the conversation.

“Seems that way, yes.”

“Are you hoping for another boy?” she asked, catching sight of the Queen as she made her rounds.

“A girl actually, although Lucas and Cassie are insisting it’s going to be another boy.”

“Hmm. I’m not sure the world could take another Liam.”

Liam laughed, the sound prompting her giggles as well.

----

Their laughter faded. A movement at the corner of his eye caught his attention. Liam turned and saw Cassandra in the middle of laughing with Hana and Maxwell. Still chuckling, she looked around and caught his eye. Cassie smiled and waved. Liam grinned and winked, his heart full.

“You should go,” Eira said softly.

“What about you?”

She shrugged and answered, “I think I’ll enjoy the sights for a little longer before I head out.”

“Of course.” Liam nodded.

Their eyes met. He offered her a soft smile. She answered with another, wistfulness tugging at its edges. He nodded to her once.

“Take care, Eira.” He murmured.

“You too, Liam.”

With one final smile, he turned and made his way back inside.

−

This year, to save me from tears

I’ll give it to someone special

−

A/N: lemme know what you guys think!

#choices 12 days of fictmas #emgee tries to write #liam x mc #trr #choices trr #the royal romance #king liam #12 days of ficmas #choices stories you play #playchoices #choices the royal romance

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namelists · 4 years

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names inspired by: winter

this list includes names inspired by the season of ice and snow, of darkness and new beginnings.

Alaska: from the Aleut aleyska, meaning “the mainland”. Also, the northernmost American state

Aquilo: Greek, meaning “the north wind”

Aurora: Latin for “dawn”. Also, an electrical phenomenon that paints the sky near the northern and southern magnetic poles

Bear: a word meaning “carry” or “support”, a nickname for Russia, and also a mammal that can survive arctic temperatures

Bering: Danish explorer who explored the northern Pacific Ocean for the Russians and discovered the Bering Strait

Bianca: Italian, meaning “white”

Borealis: Latin for “northern”

Bruma: Latin for “winter”

Cheimonas: Greek for “winter”

Colden: a form of Colton that literally has the word ‘cold’ in it

Crispin: Latin, meaning “curly haired”, but conjures images of crisp winter mornings

Crystalline: English, means “taking the form of a crystal” much like an icicle

December: the coldest, darkest, coziest month

Eira: Welsh, meaning “snow”

Eirwen: Welsh, meaning “white snow”

Elsa: Hebrew, meaning “joyful, noble”, most commonly associated with Disney’s snow queen from Frozen

Fox: a trickster animal, whose pure white version can survive the toughest arctic conditions and are extremely cute as well

Frost: a deposit of small white ice crystals formed on the ground or window panes when Jack pays a visit

Garnet: the birthstone of January

Glacia: from the word “glacier”, a slowly moving mass or river of ice

Grey: a hazy shade of winter

Guinevere/Gwendolen/Gwenyth: Welsh names sharing a common root which means “white, fair”

Heath: an area of open uncultivated land

Hiema: from the Latin for “wintry”

Hiver: French, meaning “winter”

Iarnă: Romanian, meaning “winter”

Icy: English, meaning covered with ice crystals. makes a cute nickname

Ivory: a creamy white colour, like snow in the morning

January: the very first month of the year, smack dab in the middle of wintertime

Kodiak: an island off southern Alaska

Lixue: Chinese, meaning “beautiful snow”

Lumikki: the Finnish word for “snow”, and the Finnish name for Snow White

Lynx: a big arctic wildcat

Misty: a cloud that formed close to the surface of the earth

Neva: Spanish, meaning “white snow”

Olwen: Welsh, meaning “white footprint”

Opaline: sparkling with multiple colours, the way the snow does when the light hits it

Polaris: the name of the North Star

Ptarmigan: an arctic bird, the official bird of the province of Nunavut in Canada

Rigor: a sudden feeling of cold with shivering

Rimy: English, covered with frost

Silver: a shiny grey-white colour, of which everything seems tinted in winter

Snow: a bit on the nose, but a cute name, i think

Spruce: a tall tree that stubbornly remains green and lively throughout the winter

Stark: severe or bare in appearance or outline; winter is coming

Stella-Maris: the north star, means “star of the sea” in Spanish

Takurua: “winter” in Maori, also a badass woman in Maori history

Talvi: Finnish for “winter”

Timber: wood prepared for use in building and carpentry, gives me wintry feelings for some reason

Tundra: a vast, flat, treeless Arctic region of Europe, Asia, and North America in which the subsoil is permanently frozen

Ubusika: Zulu, meaning “winter”

Whittaker: Scottish, meaning “white acre”

Winter: i had to include it and i’m not sorry

Wolf: one of the ferocious animals one can encounter in an arctic winter setting

Yukio: Japanese for “snow boy”

Ziema: Slavic, meaning “winter, snow”

#name list #name help #masterlist #rph #character development #for my ice king anon #a lot of these are straight up nouns but they sound nice as names so leave me alone #seasonal

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scribble-dee-vee · 5 years

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tell us about ivory and horn!! I love short story collections

Ahhh, thanks! I like em too. Ever since I read Trigger Warnings by Neil Gaiman, I knew I wanted to write one, so- here goes, right?

Ivory and Horn is a short story anthology focused on surrealism, feminism, and speculative world-building. It’s be fantastical and a little bit dark, drawing most of its genre inspiration from fantasy and horror. Every story has a female or nonbinary protagonist. None of the them take place in the same universe, but they all share common themes and motifs- escaping from oppressive social/political structures is shaping up to be a big one, as well as dealing with grief and redefining one’s identity in the face of catastrophic change.

Some examples:

The Winterking is about Eira, a lord’s daughter whose new husband has betrayed and killed her family. Eira escapes into the forest and finds The Winterking, an ancient entity who offers to grant her a wish.

Beach in the Dark follows Lee, a high school senior and champion swimmer, who finds herself on the beach with two drunk friends after a catastrophic house party. They take a walk. Two blinding points of light appear from the darkness. And that’s really all I can say about that ;)

Fox Hollow takes place when sisters Triste, Anthea, and Mila return to Fox Hollow, their hometown, for their mother’s funeral. Mila and Anthea just want to put her to rest, but Triste has an idea to bring her back: venture into the cursed woods around Fox Hollow, and challenge a powerful faerie creature she believes is their father.

At this point, I know all the story concepts I want to include. Several of the stories have drafts, but none are finished/edited, and many are still in the conceptual stages- but I will be sharing more about them as I work on them more actively. I’ll make a tag list soon.

Thanks for the ask!

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tiredcatbites · 2 years

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please guys… this piece is shit but i like it and i actually spent time on it😭

Gotun’s Jewels

The Duchess never expected to come face-to-face with the Khan.

The king of the mountains stood tall before her and the party, head held high. Jagged scales covered his entire massive body: though his skin was a deep black, everything underneath was still leathery. The scales were prominent— sleek obsidian rippling and shining iridescent each time the king flexed or spoke in the moonlight. They covered him like armor, waves of thick defense against any who dared to attack. One could not help but follow the longest ridge of spikes from his tail to the top of his head, where they ended in two straight, bony horns, dark grey in color.

His wings, too, were black: bat-like and ink-black, with shimmering gold swirls dancing across its surface. Her knights gaped in awe. It was old magic stamped across back, ancient runes from centuries ago branded across scaly skin. Eira shivered slightly. Even compared to the other dragons surrounding them in the snow, the Khan looked somehow better, as if he were the blueprint and they were mere clones.

The most mesmerizing thing about him had to be his face, scaly and eerily crocodilian. The Duchess trembled as he lowered his massive head toward her. Soon, she was eye-level, gazing deep into sharp pupils with golden sclera surrounding it.

The Khan slowly opened his large mouth, revealing glossy, ivory fangs, sharp incisors, and even a black tongue. Everyone tried their best not to cower in fear. The dragon king’s voice seemed to boom and reverberate both within them and in the forest surrounding, scattering flocks of birds and properly terrifying the group.

“Duchess Riven, I am quite pleased to be in your presence. Although, and forgive my rudeness, I expected the Duke to also be in your company?”

At the king’s politeness, The Duchess exhaled. She hadn’t even realized that she was holding her breath, but she could feel Eira relax at her side, and sensed her three knights at ease behind her. She looked at the king resolutely.

“Khan, please forgive my Duke, as he is away on business under our king. I came of my own accord, to see how my duchy could best assist you and to better cement our relationship.”

Suddenly he barked out a laugh, loud and harsh against the quiet December night.

“You listened to my courier, and still came here?” He tilted his head, vexed. “You and four more— a lady-in-waiting, and three squires?” His voice shook with mirth. “Pardon, but the task I called for requires the legendary Duke and his knights. I could not risk you getting hurt.”

Eira, feeling quite ashamed, stepped forward. Sparing a glance at her lady, she took a deep breath: “Your Highness,” she boomed, making the king blink in shock, “please have faith in us. My lady climbed these cold mountains when her husband could not, to greet you. I am as strong as three men, and these squires are as brave as any knight. We will find your late queen’s relics, and return the power of the gold to you.

The Khan, gold eyes wide in shock, raised his head to its full height. The Duchess could fully grasp why they used to call him Subutai the Destroyer— standing regal before them, despite being centuries old, Khan Subutai looked ready to crush them.

“You are bold,” he boomed. “Perhaps more lies ahead, so I will receive your help graciously. Try your best not to waste your mortal lives.” Spreading his impressive wings, he announced:

“I, Khan Subutai, lord of the Tartasa mountains, hereby bequeath this task to Duchess Akosua, who presides over the Duchy of Riven. She and her party will retrieve my queen’s hoard,” at the mention of his missing queen, his voice quavered, “and bring it to me. Among the treasures is the ring of Andvari, a cursed ring that poisons our land. It was the dragon queen’s birthright to keep this dark power under her watch: as king I will destroy it. Draconic custom is to melt all the gold of the deceased, and we shall do so as soon as they return. And they will return, if they wish to create an alliance between us. Let it be done!”

The dragons of Tartasa let out a howl into the cold night air, a collective screech that seemed to cut through the crisp atmosphere and straight through Ako’s heart. It sounded like a cry of mourning, and at that moment she was not sure if she had made a grave mistake. Nevertheless, she steeled her nerves. She and Eira and the knights had all agreed on their way here that they had to solidify their reputation, and make the Duke proud.

“Fair king,” the Duchess began, “thank you for this quest. I swear on my honor, we will return Gotun’s treasure, and Andvari’s ring.” Then, quieter, “We will find out what happened to Khatan Gotun.”

Khan Subutai nodded slowly, staring down at her with his sharp eyes.

“I hope you will.”

***

Everything within the cave was dim, tinted a deep red like fresh blood. It was blood, so dark it was almost black, coagulated on the rocky floor of the cave and running slowly down its sides. Eira never thought she would be in this position, nearly facedown in the gravel of a deep cavern. Using the last bit of her strength, she twisted her neck to the right; nothing but stray stalagmites and thick poison swirling into stale cave water. She could feel the blood on the cave floor pooling around her. It was an odd sensation— viscous, hot blood soaking through petticoats and bodice and searing skin.

Eira only began to cry when the burning liquid reached the side of her face. The flesh on her cheek felt like it was melting off, and it was as if every bone in her body had snapped in two. She would die here, dissolved alive in the acidic soup of some larger being’s blood, forgotten and betrayed by her mistress. She couldn’t help but lose hope, but soon everything faded to black.

Gotun: what happened here?

#fantasy #kattywrites #high fantasy #revise sometime #the real question is katty what were u on when you wrote this

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