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silver-ink-iron-words · 1 year

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Omg I read your writing about the woods from the watercolorfreckles prompt list and I was wondering if you’d pretty please do another? Maybe about lace? A broken mirror? Thank you :)))

Hey there, thanks for the request

I decided to do lace. If you'd like, send another request and I'll do broken mirror

Anyways, hope you like it

CW - blood, violence

----

Nobody much minded the lace-maker’s girl. She was plain, and quiet, and dusty white like the dead moth in the back of a closet.

It made her the perfect target for Pierre and his boys.

When they called her names, she did her best to ignore them. When they laughed at her, she focused on the rhythmic calm of her bobbins – crossing and twisting and crossing and twisting until shapes began to form in the thread.

When Jacques – Pierre’s righthand stooge – kicked her pillow off her lap and into the mud, she wanted to cry.

“What in God’s name is wrong with you?” a voice said.

Everyone turned to see Gilles, the drunkard’s boy. He was bony, and dirty, with thick brows that dominated his face. His eyes burned with fury.

Pierre’s grin was wide and delighted. “Why, Cécile, is he your boyfriend?”

She blushed. “Of course not.”

“Look at her!” Andry, another one of the boys, laughed. “She’s as pink as a pig!”

Gilles grabbed a stick and charged at them, calling them bastards and dogs and any other name he could think of. Pierre’s boys cackled as they ran.

When they were gone, he held his hand out to Cécile. “Is your lace ruined?”

She snatched up her pillow and pushed past him as she hurried away.

---

The lamps were lit, as the sky turned a bruised purple. The street hummed with the sounds of ox-carts, and scrounging mutts, and mothers calling their children in for the night.

Cécile was deaf to all of it, watching the spindly white thread weave and knot as though it were dancing.

She hid the pillow away as Pierre and Andry approached.

“Where is your boyfriend?” Pierre asked.

“I do not have a boyfriend.”

“I’m not playing games today, pig.” He stalked closer. “Jacques is missing, and all the neighbors say they saw that little shit of yours following him home.”

“I know nothing about that.” She gathered her things. “You should check the village trash heap. Perhaps Jacques is there with the other dung flies.”

Pierre, evidently, had no problem with hitting girls.

---

It did not take long for Jacques’s mother to begin wandering the streets looking for him. Within a week’s time, Andry’s mother was there too.

Pierre appeared one day on her walk home through the woods – arms crossed, leaning on a tree. She halted in the middle of the road, knuckles turning white around the handle of her basket.

“You have no business here,” she said. Her gaze was defiant, but her trembling knees gave her away.

He looked up, and to her surprise, his eyes were bloodshot.

“Please,” he said. “I concede, okay? Please just make him stop.”

“What are you – ”

Pierre stepped forward, and took her hand. “I won’t even report you two to the Maréchaussée. Just please let my friends go.”

She snatched her hand back. “I have nothing to do with Gilles.”

“Liar!” He glared at her. “Where are they?”

“Maybe your friends just ran away because they hate you.”

Pierre raised his fist, and Cécile flinched, closing her eyes.

But the blow never came.

There was a cry, and a muffled squelch, and when Cécile opened her eyes, Pierre was on the ground.

Gilles stood over him with a bloody rock in his hand.

Cécile let out a strangled murmur, not unlike a gasp. But before she could actually say anything, Gilles threw the rock away and grasped her shoulders.

“Come with me,” he said.

She stood frozen.

“We can go anywhere,” he went on. “Away from this stupid town. I can make sure no one ever hurts you again.”

She leaned back. “You’re insane.”

Something changed in his face. “Come now, Cécile. Be reasonable.”

“Let me go.”

“Do you realize what I’ve given up for you?” His fingers dug into her skin. “If the authorities find out what I’ve done, I’ll be ruined. Cécile, you have to – ”

She swung her basket at his head, and ran.

He screamed insults as he hounded her into the forest.

---

The strings were entrancing.

Cross, twist, cross, twist, pin. Cross, twist, cross, twist, pin. The wooden bobbins clacked together like rattling bones.

Nowadays, the town bristled with hushed conversation. Four boys missing in as many weeks. The men began searching the woods for bandits or wolves.

The wispy threads weaved together like spiders’ sinew.

“Soupée!” her mother called.

Perfect timing. “Coming maman!”

Cécile rose from her seat, removing the finished lace from its pillow. She floated to the wall.

Hung beside her window were two intricate pieces. The pattern on each one showed a series of faces – repeating over and over, frozen mid-scream.

They bore a remarkable likeness to Jacques and Andry. She grabbed her pins, and hung Gilles up beside them.

Coincidentally, nobody ever saw the boys again.

#dark fairytale #dark writing #writing snippet #snippet #writing #writebr #villain #blood #violence #witch #witchcraft

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lesbianmonsterlover · 5 years

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Waterfalls and Whirlpools (4)

Urzash isn’t sure what she’s expecting when she wakes up, imprint of ink on her forearm from where she crashed on top of the journal. She isn’t particularly surprised when there’s no return message, magic can be a fickle and finicky thing after all. She does feel a pang of disappointment though at the thought that perhaps her delay in replying had cost her the opportunity to continue communicating with this Erin. After a quick wash in the basin she joins her companions back downstairs for breakfast.

“Any word from our strange new companion?” Alys hands a mead to Urzash and frowns when the orc’s only response is to grumble and shake her head. “Don’t look so put out, we have no idea how that book even works.”

“It’s not like we’ve got time to get it checked out anyway, or have we all forgotten about that whole ‘we’re going to kill a dragon’ thing we agreed to last night? Can we say we’ve all forgotten and pretend that never happened?” Penny is picking at the wood of the table with a short dagger, pouting like the child she makes herself appear to be. The halfling is fair, with a button nose and freckles that make her look like an innocent. Her pigtails are full of bouncy curls and while her clothing is full of hidden pockets (like all good rogues) she still makes sure to disguise herself as a youngling. After all, who would suspect the innocent, pouting little girl?

“Sorry Pen, ‘m afraid we can’t go back on our word.” Urzash throws her arm around Penny’s tiny shoulders, squeezing the halfling into her side. Penny just huffs and shoves uselessly at Ash’s ribs before scowling and crossing her arms, settling comfortably against the Orc’s side.

“Screw you and your big people logic and your pride and ugh, fine!” The slam of the halfling’s head on the wood makes Urzash and Alys both break out in peals of laughter. Lithwe quirks a smile, cocking their head gently at the scene as they gaze on happily. “Come on then, we’ve got to go visit my father if we’re looking for new arms. We’ve gotta go in as prepared as possible. Ice dragon...means we’re going to make sure to use some enchanted weapons. You’re lucky Ash, with your big scary fire hands.” Urzash laughs and ruffles Penny’s head at that, making the halfling squawk and swat at her big, green hand. “Speaking of, shouldn’t someone be here with the front portion of our fee? If we’re going to be stocking up it should be on their dime.”

Alys nods, glancing out around the room. “Yes, although with Rolgar’s pride as wounded as it is I fear we may be left waiting until the last moment. Something tells me he would enjoy seeing us fail.” The snort Urzash lets out draws the attention of the rest of the group.

“Sorry Al, just, ‘something’ tells you? I think he’s as obvious as he can be without being blatant.” Alys chuckles at that, shrugging a little with a nod.

“I was attempting to be diplomatic, in case of prying ears.” Her quirked brow makes Urzash chuckle bashfully and rub the back of her neck, beads clinking. “I know, quite the thought that people might be listening in a place so private and secluded.” Alys’ gaze sweeps sarcastically over the crowd at the inn’s tavern even at this hour of the day.

“Speak of the Devil.” Penny’s mumble interrupts Urzash and Alys as they finally notice Rolgar. He’s greeting the bartender, and when he turns to continue over to the group they see what he really looks like after last night’s scuffle in the light of day. His missing tusk makes Urzash want to smirk, but she bites back the urge and keeps her face in a neutral scowl. He’s also sporting a swollen cheek on that side that side, mottled an ugly purple and green. He glares but stomps over, as begrudgingly polite as his ego will allow.

“Mornin’.” The crew around the table greets him coolly, and he nods before tossing a heavy pouch of gold and silver coins on the table and leaning in to speak quietly. “Twenty five hundred up front. We expect to see you back at Urgaur with the Dragon’s head or not at all.” Urzash resists the urge to spit at his feet, only nodding tersely before he straightens up and turns on his heel to march back out the door.

The atmosphere is immediately brighter as soon as he’s gone, conversation picking back up in volume and tone. Urzash though is still glaring at the door as though she could set him on fire through the thick wood. “Well, that could have been worse.” Penny stands abruptly and palms the pouch of coins, downing the last of her tea and stuffing the rest of her scone in her mouth. She muffles out some approximation of “let’s go get some gear” around the doughy flaky treat and begins to stalk out of the tavern.

“Woah, hold it half-pint.” Urzash grabs Penny by the hood and picks her up easily, Penny’s legs flailing beneath her as she whines out. “Come on, let’s give the rest of us a chance to get something in our bellies. Besides we both know your father won’t be done with his morning for another hour, remember when he left us waiting until half three because you tried to interrupt elevensies?” Penny huffs and groans like a child, but brightens up when Urzash puts two more scones on her plate along with a healthy dollop of cream and jam.

If nothing else Penny’s stunt got Urzash out of her funk and back into the usual jovial mood that they all needed before a big quest. “Fine fine, I know when I’m beat. When you’re right you’re right.” Penny happily busies herself preparing her scone to her liking and making another cup of tea. Urzash is finally presented with her breakfast, a huge plate of sausages and ham, fried eggs, corn cakes, and roasted tomatoes. Urzash has to swat away the halfling’s hand once or twice, and looks the other way another time or two to ignore a missing chunk or two of meat.

Lithwe is quickly finished with their fruit, happily sipping on tea and watching the rest of the group eat. Alys is having a plate similar to Urzash’s, although half the size, and by the time the two are finished eating the sun has reached its apex and Penny is starting to get antsy at the thought of trying new weapons. “Come ooooon, you’ve got to be ready by now. God, you big people are so slow!” Penny’s joking resigned tone makes Urzash and Alys laugh.

“Don’t lump me in with those two brutes.” Lithwe’s delivery is deadpan as always, but the sparkle behind their eyes betrays their humor. Penny’s answering giggle and wink as she all but disappears from view only to reappear on the other side of Lithwe away from the other two.

“Oh I would never! Us beautiful people have to stick together you know.” The four walk out of the tavern together laughing and head down the main street of the large settlement. Penny’s father Carver is a rather well known arms dealer, able to get all sorts of interesting, rare, and enchanted weaponry that others have a hard time getting their hands on. Even if the origins themselves are...questionable, at best, the weapons are of incredible quality and durability.

The walk is a short five minutes, and when they walk into the cool air of Claude’s shop they’re greeted by a flurry of fussing from the rather unexpected presence of Penny’s mother Pansy. ��Oh you four are just in time for tea, come in come in, you need to sit. What brings you here, I thought you lot just got kitted up a few weeks ago?” As they’re ushered deeper into the shop through a back door to a large table Carver appears from behind a large shelf with a smile and quirk of his brow.

“I was wondering the same thing, dear. What brings you lot of mangy mutts back?” Carver’s tone is as teasing and light as Penny’s, and it puts everyone at ease. Penny looks green at the gills though, nervous about telling her parents about the current plans.

“Well, uh, ma, dad, we’ve ah, we got a big, bigbigbig, biiiig job. Big job. I mean, huge, heh. So, ah, we need some...suitably...big...weapons?” Penny trails off at the stern glare of her mother and confused look of her father. Urzash and Alys meanwhile are trying to hold in a fit of laughter at Penny’s stressed rambling. Penny looks pleadingly at the rest of the group for a little bit of assistance, and Alys manages to compose herself.

“What Penny is trying to say, is we’ve been contracted by Urgaur stronghold to take care of a problem they’re dealing with. So we’ve got to get weapons appropriate for the issue.” Penny looks relieved as does Pansy, Carver however is giving Alys and Urzash a shrewd look. He’s so rarely anything but jovial, even in doling out punishments, so to see him so serious is a little unnerving.

“Big job and issue, hm? What ah, what kind of weapons are you guys needing? I need to know what you’re fighting in order to get you appropriate weapons, yeah?” Penny blanches and Alys stumbles, making Pansy’s scowl return full force. “Any reason you look so nervous to tell us, my darling, precious, only child, who I love very much and would hate to lose for any reason?” Carver has pinned Penny with a look that Penny thought she had been the one to perfect. The huge doe eyes should be out of place on someone her father’s age, but they just make her gut twist more with guilt.

Urzash grumbles and runs her hands through her thick, dark hair, worrying at some of the larger beads along the strands. “A dragon, alright? I’m sure you’ve heard the news that the villages around Urgaur are dealing with Icewing again and that it’s getting closer to the stronghold as the days go on. Considering the schedule or rhythm he seems to keep, we think we can get in and lie in wait to strike while he’s vulnerable.” Pansy gasps and sits back heavily, fanning herself.

“I’m going...I’m going to faint. I’m gonna pass out. Carver, darling, I don’t…” Carver, for his part, has simply placed his head in his hands and started laughing hysterically. A worrying reaction to be sure, considerably more concerning than Pansy’s hysterics. When Carver lifts his head again, the group can see tears streaking down his freckled cheeks, but a look of stony resignation in his eyes.

“Calm down darling, calm down. It’ll be alright. Y’know our girl Pan, she’s made her mind up eh? Not much we can do now but make sure they’re as ready as they get.” He sighs, but smiles fondly at the four. “Come on then, let’s get some tea in you and then we’ll get you kitted. I think we’ve got something in that you’ll need.”

Pansy, having calmed some, places a platter of cookies and sandwiches on the table and excuses herself to lie down. Penny goes to join her mother, hoping to at least assuage some of her concerns and leave on a happy note. Should the worst happen, this isn’t how she wanted their last meeting to go. Alys and Carver are engaged in a rather lively discussion about the various benefits and drawbacks of her current armor style versus some newer constructions in from Lagrat. So, Urzash takes this time to recheck the journal.

She scoffs slightly but smiles at the message neatly penned beneath her own sleepy scrawling. Easy and safe are not words that anyone would rightly associate with a quest to slay a dragon. Still, it will be a nice distraction to learn about this US and the beings who inhabited it. Any country where bandits have ceased to be a scourge to travelers is a good one in her books. She files the book away to respond later, hopeful that the magic will be open again for her to communicate the way they had been writing back and forth. For now, it’s important to focus on the task at hand, and that’s arming up to fight a dragon and save the very people who shunned her and made her life miserable.

It’s an odd feeling, to be so attached to a culture and its people but also hate them for the way that they’ve mistreated you. Urzash feels that clash daily, proud of her heritage and culture, but also ashamed of herself for being so because her natural ability was apparently something to be derided. Her family, at least, was welcoming and supportive. Still, those same people who had once shunned her have now come begging for her help, that natural ability they so reviled suddenly the thing that can save them from their otherwise deadly fate at the maw of an ice drake. As much as she wishes she could tell them to shove it, to handle it themselves, she can’t. She cannot, in good conscience, leave them to defend themselves when she and her friends were here and capable. The money doesn’t hurt, either. A good chunk of gold and trunk of jewels enough to soothe some wounded pride. When Penny returns, looking a good bit lighter and happier, Carver stands from his spot at the head of the table. “Well then, shall we to the armory?”

#waterfalls and whirlpools #WLW #named character #female character #female orc #fantasy #lesbian love #lesbian romance #slow burn #lesbian fiction #exophilia

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