#novemberdwc2023

[daily-writing-challenge]

DAILY WRITING CHALLENGE 2023 IS BACK!

YOU DO NOT HAVE TO USE THE ACTUAL WORD FOR THIS CHALLENGE, YOU MAY SIMPLY BASE YOUR STORY AROUND ONE OF THESE IDEAS!

Choose one or both words/IDEAS and write a story, drabble, poem, or anything else once a day, every day, for a week!

Tag @daily-writing-challenge so we can reblog your stories.

Write the number day/challenge somewhere on your story.

LIST CONTENT WARNINGS VISIBLY ABOVE STORY! (Use a ‘read more’ line if content gets too graphic.)

Tags that will be used: #novemberdwc2023,  #novemberdayX2023 (X=whatever number day you’re writing for), #yourtumblrurl

There will be no optional challenges for the weekly DWC’s, but please feel free to make up some of your own challenges!

The next writing challenge will be in FEBRUARY 2024 and last one week!

CLICK HERE FOR OTHER IMPORTANT INFORMATION!

Good luck and more importantly, HAVE FUN! Encourage your fellow writers and show them some love and support with likes/reblogs/comments!

We look forward to reading some amazing writing!

((Written word list below the cut))

Day 1 - November 26 Party - Chills

Day 2 - November 27 Success - Sin

Day 3 - November 28 Inspiration - Unresolved

Day 4 - November 29 Attention - Grief

Day 5 - November 30 Strange - Flame

Day 6 - December 1 Expectation - Selfish

Day 7 - December 2 Dream - Sting

#november2023prompt #novemberdwc2023 #dwc2023

[kharrisdawndancer]

DWC - Nov 2023 - Day 3 - Inspiration/Unresolved

Khaeris melted onto a log bench. Her hands were dirty from digging and planting and her feet were bare. Maybe the last bit was especially unwise in Dream just now, where fireballs and fighting seemed to constantly break out. But the elven woman just couldn’t seem to keep her sandals for long when she was here. Her feet needed to feel the grass, the clover, the moss.

She patted her hands dry after washing them in a magically refilling basin and leaned back to take in the central camp. People of all races and factions bustled by on their business. It was taking all of Azeroth’s protectors to get things done and fight. The world tree’s growth and blooming were an inspiration to many. The harmony wasn’t perfect, but it was workable.

She had wandered between healer and alchemists and gardeners to lend her hands. She made friends with a few of the dryads and giggled at the wildlife. Laughter and company were common even with the difficulties all around them. Khaeris had indulged in both.

Through it all though, a familiar little knot of unresolved tension never let go of her core. She could almost forget it was there, but she never quite eliminated it. Her eyes drifted north before she checked her comm unit once more. She sighed and slid off the bench to go find another distraction. Maybe she’d go help the cooks tonight…

@daily-writing-challenge

#Veri's writing #Khaeris #novemberday32023 #novemberdwc2023 #kharrisdawndancer

[garrennorassin]

NOVEMBER DWC DAY 1 - CHILL

At this age, Garren knew that he had plenty of time to discover his life’s purpose. The feelings of uncertainty and of being lost were probably normal, especially given his own past and the collective, recent past of the Kaldorei. Even to this day many of them were still considered refugees, having no true place to call home and merely bouncing around like vagabonds. Yes, he had a small apartment in Dalaran now thanks to his father, Xylaes, but it wasn’t really home, was it? It had never felt like home. Nowhere had, except Darnassus, and there was no going back there.

So when he first stepped through the portal into the Emerald Dream and witnessed Amirdrassil for the first time, the abrupt wave of emotion told him everything he needed to know. 

This was home.

His once lackadaisical approach to the mercenary work had flipped in that moment. He would do everything and anything to protect this new tree, including giving his own life if necessary. The handful of other Kaldorei in the crew had felt the same pull, this had become extremely personal to all of them. To his credit, Xylaes had recognized the importance of this moment immediately and eagerly adopted and matched his son’s sudden passion. Despite being a Sin’dorei, the older man knew what this meant to Garren and would, naturally, put his own life on the line first.

They set up their camp near the Central Encampment where both military and other mercenary crews had collected for safety. It was difficult for Garren to keep his eyes focused on the ground when all they wanted to do was drift skyward to gaze at the massive World Tree growing above. It was almost impossible to differentiate between leaves and sky, the two blending in luminous harmony and emanating a feeling of tranquility. It was so easy to forget what was going on when everything felt so at peace. The days to come would bring fire and death, something Garren was all too familiar with, but at least in this moment he could cherish the serenity.

Even in the middle of the night the Encampment was abuzz with anticipation of what was to come, but Garren managed to find himself a quiet corner of the world, near one of Amirdrassil’s massive roots. Tenderly, he tugged off his gloves, one finger at a time before setting the pair aside. A hand hovered over the root, the energy radiating from the powerful being sent a chill up his spine. Almost reluctantly he flattened his palm against the bark, and at that exact moment he felt a hand press atop his bare shoulder. Immediately he startled and fell backwards over his pack as he frantically searched around for whomever had disturbed his privacy.  No one was there.  At least no one that he could see.

With a furrow in his brow, he shifted to face the tree once more, pressing a hand against it without hesitation. The feeling of warmth, love, and home was present, a sensation he hadn’t felt since… 

His breath caught in his throat. He knew this tree was born of the souls of those lost in Teldrassil. He had lost so many friends there, and the only family he had ever known for the vast majority of his life. It had to be…

“...Grandma, grandpa?”

The tree glowed beneath his touch.

@daily-writing-challenge

#story #garren #dwc2023 #novemberdwc2023 #amirdrassil

[dicenne]

November DWC Day 7 - Dream

No photograph nor verbal description of the Emerald Dream could ever do it justice, this was something everyone needed to see first hand for themselves. Dicenne had a good excuse to do so, as with other campaigns he would go and offer his blacksmithing services to help with repairs for broken weapons and armor. He had brought his own armor and weapons too, just in case.

He had been an on and off member of Talonoa’s mercenary crew for years now. After having spent so much time in the military, it was difficult to completely give up that lifestyle, and a mercenary crew suited him much better. The majority of the group were ex-military themselves, so it operated in a similar, albeit less strict manner of what he was already accustomed to.

Dicenne had set up his camp with them, focusing first on their repairs and then wandering about the other mercenary units to see if anyone needed his services. Despite never asking for gold, doing this had become quite the profitable endeavor. Mercenaries were great about tipping, and often followed up post-campaign with visits to his shop to get more repairs or new weapons.

One late evening, he found himself lounging near the communal fire with eyes focused upwards on Amirdrassil herself. She was a thing of beauty for certain, and born of the souls from her predecessor. A fresh start for the Kaldorei. It made him wonder if maybe the Sin’dorei should have done the same with their own city; while not all of Silvermoon had been destroyed by the Scourge, the memories that clung onto that place were difficult to move past at times.

His gaze fell onto the only remaining member of the crew still up and looking towards Amirdrassil with a thousand-yard stare. With the way the fire and shadows highlighted the half-Kaldorei’s angular jaw and shape of his nose, it was easy to see the resemblance to the young man’s father. He was never actually told that Garren was Xylaes’s son, but the observant could easily figure it out.

“You were there, right?”

Garren’s eyes drifted down to look at Dicenne, giving a slow nod of his head. There was no need to question what ‘there’ meant in this situation, it was obvious he was speaking of Teldrassil.

“I’m sorry for what you had to go through. How are you, are you doing okay here?”

Garren shrugged out of habit, but eventually spoke as his gaze drifted skywards once more. “I’m afraid of what will happen to us if we can’t save the tree.”

Dicenne nodded in agreement, “Me too, but I have faith. Practically the entire world wants, no needs, to see this all succeed, and I think we will.”

“How can you be so optimistic?” 

It was Dice’s turn to shrug. “Better than the alternative options, yeah? It’s not a belief that things will automatically get better, it’s a conviction that we can make things better.”

Garren offered a small smile in response, looking up once more. “My grandparents are a part of this. They died in Teldrassil, and now they’re here. I feel like I’m meant to be here too, with them. Together again.”

A part of Dice wondered if he spoke like this with Xylaes. Probably not. In a way, he almost felt guilty. “I’m sure they are very proud of you for being here and helping. You should be proud of yourself too, this is a huge moment in history.” 

The words clearly resonated with Garren, and shortly after the young elf excused himself for the evening, leaving Dicenne alone by the fire. In all honesty, the words had resonated with himself as well. He was never great at staying on the sidelines when he knew his friends could use his help. Maybe it was time he strapped his armor back on and threw himself into the fray.

@daily-writing-challenge @talonoa @xylaes @garrennorassin

#story #dicenne #dwc2023 #novemberdwc2023

[gloamingdawn]

November 30 - Day 5 Strange

Hearing the Call was always one of the most unnerving things. Her whole body stilled as Eyir plucked at the thread that connected them, and the summons resonated throughout her whole being. 

Ash laughed raucously and splashed in the bath within reach, but for a moment she couldn’t move — frozen in place. 

It released her as quick as it had washed over, and Lyn bit her tongue before she could swear. 

‘Champion, to me with haste!’

“Mama, do you know where my boat is?” 

She was going to have a headache later. Ash was passed his boat as she plucked that thread right back, ‘My son is in the bath, the shieldmaidens will get to you faster. What’s wrong?’

‘A Dragon is here for Odyn, we must-’ 

Lyn couldn’t help the laugh that tore from her mouth, ‘You’d be better off letting the Dragon have him.’ 

Ash stared up at her, perplexed, “Mama?” 

She shook her head and glanced back down at him; it must have seemed strange, the way she was staring off at nothing. He couldn’t hear the Keeper trying to summon her, after all. 

‘...All is well.’ 

Lyn reached down and flicked some of the water back at her son with a bright smile, “What are the pirates up to today, then?” 

Reassured, and with focus back again, he slammed the carved boat down into the water and prepared to launch into his rambling tale.

@daily-writing-challenge

#novemberdwc2023 #novemberday52023 #gloamingdawn

[rylandfalkov]

NOVEMBER DWC DAY 2 - SUCCESS/SIN

Vixannya’s gallery itself was meant to warn against overindulgence in sin, yet the afterparty explicitly promoted A LOT of sin. It was all on purpose, of course, that was her brilliance. At least no one died, although surely quite a few felt like death when they awoke the following morning or afternoon. Thankfully, Ryland was still young and spry, so alcohol and drugs didn’t readily leave their lasting effect on him for very long.

The first half of the night was strictly for work, so he chose not to indulge as that would hardly be conducive to performing on various aerial apparatuses. He enjoyed showing off on the lyra and the pole, and then later partaking in some fun for those playing voyeur in the peep shows. Envy truly was the perfect sin for him to represent, whether it was making others want to be that other person with him, or even want to be him. Which, in retrospect, was ironic given he had spent the first half of his life wanting to be someone else.

The latter half of the night was spent committing just about every other sin. When he woke up butt naked in Vixannya’s bed he wasn’t surprised, even if he didn’t remember actually getting from Point A to Point B. Sera was there too, and…some other nude form he didn’t quite recognize. Totally normal.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he wandered into her kitchen and helped himself to the cup of coffee waiting for him. Annya herself was already awake, looking somehow perfectly rested and not at all hungover. There were a few other sleeping bodies scattered about in various states of undress. Really just like any other gallery ‘after-afterparty’ he attended. No one would ask questions, what happened, happened, and would never leave this flat.

Annya ruffled a hand through his hair, “You’re looking better than last time.”

“Am I? Not sure I’m feeling better. You really outdid yourself this time, an absolute success”

She simply smirked into her mug before taking a sip. She knew. “You drew quite the crowd in those peep shows, you know. Thought I was going to have to start hosing them down.” A brief pause before she turned to look out towards her living area, “Speaking of hosing down, help me throw these strangers out? They can go sleep off their hangovers elsewhere.” She flicked her fingers towards the mass of after-afterparty guests. “If you get Sera to help I’ll have you boys pampered for the rest of the day.” “Yes ma’am!” Annya truly was an excellent sugar mama.

@vixannya @serazhen @daily-writing-challenge

#story #ryland #vixannya #sera #dwc2023 #novemberdwc2023

[aerdendios]

NOVEMBER DWC DAY 7 - DREAM

Sleeping within the Emerald Dream was always interesting, and while they had been warned about what would happen, there was really no way to actually prepare any of them for this out-of-body experience. The first night was met with bewildered and frightened looks as the spirit forms of the soldiers peered down at their own sleeping bodies. Many abruptly woke up, and had difficulties going back to sleep for the first few nights, others refused to sleep at all within the Dream and had set up camp immediately outside of the portal.

Yet for some peculiar reason, Aerden had felt perfectly at ease. It felt normal and natural for him, as if he had done this many times prior but simply couldn’t recall. It was rather thrilling, being able to wander about while still getting the rest that his body desperately needed. Over time, it became easier for the others as well, and they would explore the immediate area in small groups and play with the local wildlife. ‘Sleeping’ had become an absolute joy.

“Hey, have you seen the cave here?” Aerden pointed towards the side of a steep hill.

“What do you mean a cave? That’s a hill.” Matir squinted at his friend, ruffling a hand through his mop of blond hair.

“Well..yeah, but there’s a cave in there. You can just walk through the wall..”

“What? You can walk through the wall?”

Aerden gave Matir a boggled look before demonstrating just that. He stepped through the wall, and then stepped back out of the wall. “See?”

Matir hummed before heading towards the side of the hill, the exact same spot where Aerden had passed through and proceeded to walk….directly into the side of the hill with a *WHUMP*. He had such confidence in his strides that the man practically bounced off the dirt wall and landed on his ass. He blinked a few times in surprise, “The fuck, Hale. What kind of trick was that?” 

Aerden’s brow pinched together in confusion, “No..what? You can just..walk through things?”

“....NO! …Wait…are you telling me you CAN walk through things?”

He was so perplexed. “Yeah, I thought that like…we could do anything cause we’re…” He gestured down to his astral projection. “Walk through things, run faster, fly.”

“YOU CAN FLY?!”

“...Can’t everyone??”

“NO! It’s just like walking around in everyday life. What kinda fuckin’ magic you got?”

Aerden’s lips parted to say something, but nothing came out. Could nobody else really do that? Surely some of them could, or someone could. He had seen some others flying around, but no one he knew. “I…I don’t know? Sorry, Mat, I didn’t know.”

Matir stood and brushed himself off, giving Aerden a friendly slap on his back, “You surprise me every day, dude. Come on, it’s almost time to wake up.”

He followed his friend back to camp in befuddled silence.  What was wrong with him?  Or…right with him?  He didn’t even know what to think anymore.

@daily-writing-challenge

#story #aerden #novemberdwc2023 #novemberday72023

[rhysgoodwin]

November DWC Day 6 - Expectation

It had been some time since Rhys had socialized with any of his fellow Tarts. There were a lot of new faces he had never met, who no doubt had no idea he was a ‘behind the scenes’ member of the troupe. He picked things up and put things down, and helped to build various props and set pieces for the performers. It was a rare occasion to find him helping at any events due to his rigorous work schedule on the farm, but he was well overdue for some socializing and Dicenne’s Harvest Celebration was just the event for it.

There was a moment prior to his arrival where he almost turned around and left, worried that he wouldn’t fit in or that there would be too many questions about Aurelia. While on paper she was the daughter of the family he worked for, the Padleys, in reality she was Mrs. Padley and Rhys’s own daughter. It was quite the scandal among the farms in Elwynn Forest, but the more he learned of the local drama, the more he realized this was quite typical. Apparently attractive, young farmhands often found themselves the target of the wives of Elwynn Forest. 

The squeeze from the small hand held within his own gave him the courage he needed to keep going, and he was glad for it. Everyone was so welcoming and had no expectations, and while some may have raised their eyebrows regarding him having a daughter, it wasn’t because they were being judgmental, but only because they had no idea in the first place. She was quickly accepted into the Tart family and made fast friends with Lynesse’s similarly-aged son, Ash.

After dinner, the two sat together in a nearby grassy area where Aurelia introduced Ash to a local bunny family by name that she had just met, while Ash made the grass grow longer for their new furry friends to munch on simply by asking it politely to do so. Everyone had found it endearing, but also quite intriguing since the duo clearly displayed some serious prowess in magic. 

This was the first time that others had questioned his daughter’s skills, wondering if she was able to commune and understand all animals. Is that what she was doing? Is that what he had been doing? He always felt a kinship with the farm animals that he took care of, often finding them easier to ‘understand’ than most people. Not to mention they usually did what he asked of them. Was that magic? He just had assumed he was always good with animals and had passed that compassion down to Lia. She had a tendency to attract animals of all varieties, and Rhys had never feared them bringing harm to her.

Maybe he wasn’t as completely useless as he had felt for so much of his life. The orphan boy who couldn’t even speak until the age of ten, was never adopted, failed most of his studies; he never had much confidence in himself and could do nothing right. Until now. He did at least one thing right, and she was perfect.

@daily-writing-challenge @dicenne @gloamingdawn

#story #rhys #aurelia #dwc2023 #novemberdwc2023

[karaamberlight]

NOVEMBER DWC DAY 4 - ATTENTION

Fingers ran along the thick coat of Shabby, the once stray cat, now completely settled into his domestic life within the small Silvermoon City apartment. Kara’s foot bounced to the Winter Veil music playing from her record player as she occasionally sang made-up lyrics towards Shabby himself about what a good and fat boy he was. She had finished decorating weeks ago for the holiday, and honestly considered just leaving it up all year long since colorful lights and the baked-goods scented candles were absolutely her aesthetic.

Although all of that came to a screeching halt when there was a sudden knock at the door. Kara stilled completely as her attention darted towards the closed and locked door, slowly reaching for the record player to turn the music down. She wasn’t expecting any visitors, and while it was likely something or someone completely harmless outside that door, she couldn’t help the spike in anxiety that suddenly took hold. Pressing a finger to her lips, as if Shabby would know what that meant, she stood up and tiptoed over to peek through the peephole.

No one was there, but maybe someone could still be there just hiding out of sight. She kept her gaze plastered to that peephole for five minutes….ten minutes. Still nothing. Surely whoever was there had left by now. Fingers curled around the pepper spray she kept on a nearby shelf, then unlocked and swung the door open in one quick swoop. Eyes darted left, then right, and then down at…

Flowers?

Her nose wrinkled in confusion as she set the can of pepper spray back on its shelf and picked up the bouquet of shimmery violet and white flowers arranged within a Winter Veil vase. The door was shut and locked, unlocked, then locked again just for good measure before she walked the flowers over to her table. The card was plucked from its holder and in fancy script read:

‘You’ve always been my favorite Amberlight. ~Your Secret Admirer’

Her cheeks flushed as she pressed the note to her chest, the anxiety now completely gone and replaced with something much happier and warmer. “Shaaaaabbyyyy, did you buy me flowers?” Said in a singsong voice as she looked around for the cat, who was now on the table chewing on the flowers. “Shabby, no! Silly boy, those are not good for you!” The cat was scooped up off the table and promptly spun about the living space with her as she danced to the holiday tunes.

This was going to keep her in good spirits for days to come!

@daily-writing-challenge

#story #kara #shabby #dwc2023 #novemberdwc2023

[asharinhun]

DWC Day 1 - Party/Chills

The mountains of Tiragarde Sound were covered in snow all year round. Any kul tiran worth their salt knew to dress properly should they have an errand to run and were forced to cross the icy paths. The terrain and the frigid winds weren't the only danger to travelers, let alone if they dared the slopes in the cover of night.

Perfect training spot for the lone figure standing in the moonlight.

"Gramps and Granny will throw a fit if they find out I came here like this." Arlyn huffed with a small smile.

At best, they'd call her a fool, but it would be no wonder if they called her mad instead. The thought made her laugh, even if it meant suppressing a wince from her aching side.

"Ugh, Horman got me good. Can't say I really blame him." She muttered with a shake of her head.

His expression would've been quite comical if not for the concern and worry at the sight of her showing up covered in bandages after disappearing for months. It wasn't the entrance she had hoped to make, it was plain bad luck that he had the shift to guard the portal room when she stepped out of one.

Arlyn did her best to convince him - and everyone else - that she was fine, really, just a bunch of new tattoos and that's it. She couldn't placate them entirely, so she had no heart to make a fuss about the welcome back party they put together a few days later.

Of course, no such party could be complete without an honest to Tidemother tavern brawl. The singer was still a bit sore from her new tattoos, but that didn't stop her from joining in. The bruises had plenty of time to bloom since the previous night, and she wore them openly, wink and all.

It felt nice, singing and drinking and dishing out a few knuckle sandwiches, icing a swollen shut eye and a busted lip the next morning. It felt normal, as if nothing had changed.

"If only they knew..."

The tattoos covering her arms lit up with arcane light, visible even through the long, fingerless gloves she chose to wear since the inking.

Spikes of ice erupted from the ground at a swipe of her hand, following the motion until she was almost surrounded by them. They shattered just as easily with a flick of her wrist.

The chill from it all - her spells, the night, the cold mountain air - should have bothered her, but it didn't. Not since the nature of her mana changed, not since the set of enchanted tattoos returned her control over her volatile magic.

Arlyn had no idea if this resistance to the cold was true for every frost mage or not, but such was her reality and she decided to take full advantage of it. She wouldn't have been able to practice up here in peace otherwise. Her spells were a bit crude, her finesse far from perfect, but she was improving night by night.

She would have to go back soon, back to the Dragon Isles. She had unfinished business there. At least it also meant she would hopefully get a chance to ask some questions about frost magic from trusted friends.

Soon.

She had a few nights still, and she didn't want to waste them. Arlyn furrowed her brows, eye narrowed in concentration, and focused again on her training.

@daily-writing-challenge

#novemberdwc2023 #novemberday12023 #Arlyn

[kaisinasunblade]

DWC Day 2- November 2023 - Success

One could say that with Kai attending the afterparty was a huge success for her. Stepping into a world that always held her back. Conquering the very fears that had held her back since running away from Booty Bay.

Despite everything that had happened to her, she always kept that upbeat friendly personality that everyone liked about her. The fact that she owned a successful business, showed her just how far she had really come.

But when she had stepped into the Envy room, watching the intimacy displayed so openly between people caused Kai to crave any form of intimacy. Kai closed her eyes while taking in a deep breath, allowing the scent of salty sea fill her senses. She was a changed woman. Having grown in confidence. She could not help but smile as she thought of all the friends she had made over the past few months.

Those thoughts turns to both Dice and Ryland, and cheeks flushed upon what directions those thoughts took. She shook her head, trying to clear her mind. Annya's and Pyra's words helping her to push those sinful thoughts out of her mind, at lest for now. In time she knew that one day she would find that intimacy she craved, and not in just a sexual way. She still had those demons to over come.

With one last glance to her home in Ratchet, Kai takes one last look out over the sea and takes in a deep breath, before turning and heading down the path. It was time to return to The Dream. Those who worked for her would be fine running the tavern while she was gone. Times are changing for her. She was growing in so many ways. And she knew she still had growing to do.

@daily-writing-challenge

@dicenne @rylandfalkov @vixannya @pyraelia for mentions

#NOVEMBERDWC2023 #NOVEMBERDAY22023 #kaisinasunblade

[commanderbragh]

DWC 2023 Day 2: Beachhead (Success)

“Alright everyone, listen up!”

Banagan straightened up as the sergeant began calling out instructions. He quickly glanced at Skold standing beside him, the Drakthyr intently paying attention to the veteran soldier.

“Earlier groups have already established the beachhead. Our job is to go help secure their perimeter and root out any allies of that fel blasted dragon. Orders are to take them alive, if possible.”

“Why not just kill them?” 

Banagan turned to look at one of the mercenaries that had volunteered for the group. He was a middle-aged man in armor that showed a lot of wear. He looked at one of his friends with a grin and said something quietly enough that Banny couldn’t hear him.

“Because those are not our orders. Do you understand, or are you such a moron that I need to find that can translate common into stupid?” The sergeant stared at the mercenary. He started to say something in return but his friend punched him in the arm. A scowl started to play across his face, but disappeared as quickly once he realized that the sergeant’s look had only darkened. The mercenary looked away, but the sergeant continued to stare for a few moments longer, making everyone uncomfortable.

“We are there to secure the area. That is all. If you cannot handle that, if you have dreams of glory, if you suffer from delusions of grandeur, then I suggest you step out right now and find some other troop.” The sergeant scanned the group of people, daring someone to interrupt him again. Banagan watched without a word, though his own thoughts were racing at this point.

“Controlling the beachhead is the first step. That is our part of the job. We do that and we’re one step closer to success. One step closer to saving Azeroth.”

Again, Banny thought to himself with a slight grin.

@daily-writing-challenge

#Novemberdwc2023 #Novemberday22023 #commanderbragh #young banagan

[kharrisdawndancer]

DWC - Nov 2023 - Day 1

Tinnaire lost herself in the paintings. Every time she’d come to Vixannya’s gallery showings it had entranced her. The works were beautiful from a technical standpoint, of course, but the subject matter was always the true thrill.

She turned to walk a few steps to the next piece. Her eyes drifted over this sin and she dove into silent evaluation again. The rest of the room melted away from her.

Tinnaire had chosen to come alone, or rather she’d been delighted to receive the gift of an entrance from Fiorenze and Tinnaire had not asked anyone to accompany her. It already felt a bit like an imposition on the host, and Tinnaire genuinely enjoyed doing things on her own. She felt no pressure to charm anyone, no need to listen to anyone else pontificate about their opinions on the art, nor any forced social gossiping. She saw only a few others who had come alone, and while not as bad as noble gatherings, who you came with was still an important piece of the evening's gossip, Tinnaire assumed. She was past caring there, her life had run its course in whispers long ago. It was bliss to simply enjoy the paintings as she saw fit and for how long she saw fit. She lingered long minutes on her favorites, appreciating brush strokes and composition and the stylistic turns of subjects not usually so openly displayed. Deadly sins, indeed.

So she found her sins reflected back to her in every painting. Tinnaire Ush’iel let herself sit with the sins and warnings both. The witch studied how each felt and formulated her battle forward through them. This was what art was for, she thought. Tinnaire shivered and smiled through the chill.

@daily-writing-challenge mentions: @vixannya

#Veri's writing #Tinnaire #novemberdwc2023 #novemberday12023 #kharrisdawndancer

[lordrethandus]

Daily Writing Challenge November 2023 Day 2

Success / Sin ( @daily-writing-challenge @kthalentia )

World: Final Fantasy 14

Theme: Steven Lynn - Main Theme

U'tova and Aurant had camped out on this cliff for half a dozen bells, waiting for the searing Thanalan sun to stop pounding on the badlands and disappear beneath the horizon to rest. As the sun dropped, so too did the temperature, with the sweltering heat giving way to the bitter cold. Why anyone would willingly live in such an extreme place is something the Ishgardian could never understand– but to Tova, this place was home.

Aurant had spent his nights in the warmth of seedy taverns that he never learned the golden rule of Thanalan, but he was learning it now. The night chill cut through his light clothes like a hot knife through butter, and it was particularly windy all the way up here from their vantage point. U’tova, on the other hand, simply draped her tail over her legs to block out the wind, with a collar stuffed with chocobo down to keep the cold from creeping down her neck. Her green gaze held a golden glow in the dark, allowing her to see much farther than the Elezen could– even if wasn’t missing an eye. With just a smidgen of moonlight her vision was sharper now than it was midday, and making her the perfect candidate for this trial.

“I see someone…” She whispered, catching his attention. He shuffled forward on the ground to lay beside her, but he couldn’t see anything himself. 

“Describe them.”

“Short black hair. Hyur. Kind of stocky.”

“Scar on his face?”

U’tova inhaled sharply as she focused. He was walking with a chocobo behind him but he turned at just the right angle all the same. “Starts near his lips and goes all the way past his ear.”

“That’s Tigrund Waterstep all right.” Aurant glanced over at the Miqo’te beside him, almost tempted to ask if he could use her tail to help fight off this brutal wind. “Be a dear and take the shot, won’t you? And avoid a headshot… or he won’t be recognizable.” U’tova clenched her jaw as she prepared to take his life. She pulled back the bolt and slid the round into the chamber, flicked the safety of her rifle off, pressed it against her shoulder and took aim.

“Wait…” She muttered, feeling her heart run cold. Behind Tigrund atop of the chocobo was another person– this one considerably smaller. “There’s a child with him… a boy…”

“Don’t shoot the boy. Old Tigrund is the only one that needs to taste some dust tonight.” Aurant replied, seemingly trying to half-bury himself in the warm dirt. She couldn’t tell if he was serious or if this was more of his dry Ishgardian wit, but if he was joking he would usually admit it shortly after. “Tova…? You have a clear shot, don’t you?”

“I do but…-” 

“Tigrund is a Black Adder. Wanted for armed robbery, murder, arson, and kidnapping.” He even consulted the bounty note he was using to help warm up his chest. “He helped kill a lot of good people and he’s part of the reason why I have to wear an eye-patch. The bounty on his head is fifty million.” He paused to let that sink in– if only for a moment. “You wanted to join us… this is what we do. We kill Black Adders and turn in their corpses for gil. If anything you’ll be doing the boy a favor by getting that monster of a father out of his life so get your smallclothes untwisted and take the bloody shot!”

U’tova could feel her heart racing– all she could think about was the devastation that boy would endure. Someone killed her mother in a similar fashion, cut down in front of her adoring husband and seven summer old daughter; setting both on a course from which they could not veer from. Yet her mother was not a criminal. She wasn’t wanted for murder, for kidnapping, for armed robbery– none of it. She was just a humble merchant madly in love with a cranky gunsmith.

Her mouth was dry when she took aim. Her ears flattened against her head to help block out the sound, and she closed an eye to better line up the shot without distractions. All it took was a gentle squeeze of the trigger and a handful of heartbeats.

BLAM! 

A cup of dust kicked up from the other side of the man, with the startled chocobo flailing from the sudden sound echoing down the valley. Tigrund took three shaky steps forward as he rubbed at his chest, but he didn’t even have time to look down at the blood soaking his fingers before he collapsed into the dirt.

“Papa…?” The boy asked after getting the bird under control. He jumped off the saddle and ran toward his father, still in shock over what just happened. “Papa…?! PAPA!”

“A clean hit.” Aurant sighed, before pushing himself up to his feet. “Stay here… I’ll get the body.”

And a clean hit it certainly was. The bullet vaporized his heart and took him out before he could even feel a thing… which is far and above a better death than most of the victims of his crime sprees got. U’tova lowered the rifle and watched the boy try to shake his father like he had fallen asleep, but she didn’t say a thing back to the Ishgardian. There was nothing for her to say, really.

#lordrethandus #{ the blackened barrel } #novemberdwc2023 #novemberday22023

[pyraelia]

November 26 - Day 1  Party / Chills

One of her favorite elements of attending Vixannya’s gallery openings was the people watching. The scenes around each painting became their own little vignettes that often enhanced the artwork and elevated it beyond decoration, and how each group of people — usually from across diverse enough parts of society — interacted with the subject matters was fascinating. 

Fiorenze wasn’t going to make it this time, and that was fine. Pyraelia understood the desire to devote focus to something, even if she didn’t quite understand why The Dream or the Tree; Her sister had always had a love of green spaces, but they were magi from a family of arcanists that spanned back millennia and that realm was certainly not for them. 

Her favorite painting, if one could call a painting of a dead person a 'favorite', this time around was a fairly simple portrait of an unfamiliar woman laying dead in a dark room surrounded by mirrors, each reflection capturing a different angle of her body. There was so much pride in the still, beautiful figure, but there was a subtle covetousness in the reflection of the mirrors that flirted with envy, too — years ago she would have missed it, but their family had been through so much in five years alone, not to mention the decade. Had the woman had a moment to be jealous that her reflection had seconds more life left? So much time could be suspended in a fraction of a moment, caught at the end of a brush stroke. 

Even now, month to month, day to day, their family dynamics were still shifting. Considering how February had gone, and Fiorenze's plans to try and lock her own soul away into an enchanted glass, it could've just as easily been her painted there.

Was she, Pyraelia herself, envious that her sister had new opportunities since Fiorenze's plans had all fallen brutally through? Keranna had said something that had stuck in the back of her mind like a thorn while she had been pinning her lavender hair up into a delicate, wispy chignon for the soiree, mostly meant to silence her petty complaining that her sister had stayed away.

“Do you think your parents would have let Fiorenze walk any other path than the one they put her on as the first daughter?” 

Unlikely. 

Pyraelia had never faced the same burden of expectation — her parents' pride in her had been organic and true, she had inherited her mother’s excellence in the arcane arts in a way that Fiorenze hadn’t, but she was still just the second daughter. 

She frowned as she looked back up at the painting, a new sense of judgment from the painted stranger’s flat, outward gaze that sent a slight chill down her spine. Perhaps there was more to her sister’s strange new wayward roots, and perhaps it was time to be a bit kinder. 

As she shuffled on in her own introspection, she hoped that her momentary interlude had done for someone else what so many of the other gallery attendees had done for her: shift the perspective, if for only a moment.

@daily-writing-challenge / @vixannya

#daily-writing-challenge #novemberday12023 #novemberdwc2023 #pyraelia

[polluxhale]

November DWC Day 4 - Attention

tw: brief murder in 1st paragraph

Pollux silently emerged from the shadows behind the Druid of the Flame currently protecting and shielding the flame ward, covering the druid’s mouth with a gloved hand from behind while expertly driving his dagger into the jugular. It didn’t take long for the druid to fall dead at his feet, at the exact same time three others did as well, thanks to the rest of Pollux’s team.

The four members of the Elite Forces placed explosives along the ward before stepping back to shoot a flare up into the air, signaling it was safe for Alexstrasza to destroy the final ward. The four melded back into the shadows and headed towards their rendezvous point a safe distance away from the incoming blast.

“That was easy.” Gaz remarked as they watched Alexstrasza ignite their explosives with a breath of flame, destroying the ward in a fiery eruption.

“They’re unorganized…” Pollux’s attention darted up towards the sky in search of other dangers, mainly Fyrakk. Unorganized, yes, but also completely unpredictable which made the whole situation extremely dangerous. He prided himself in often being able to predict what his enemies might do, but with this particular one it was almost impossible.

“Do you think it’ll work?”

The portals to the Emerald Dream had been blocked for nearly a week at this point, no one was able to enter and no one was able to leave. Supplies had been cut off, as had any extra aid. It wasn’t a good position to be in, but eventually a possible solution had been found. It was now or never, especially since Fyrakk had become more and more agitated with impatience. There was no telling what he would do next.

“It’s all we have right now, so let’s just hope the portal goes back up and reinforcements are able to get through…in time. If not, we’ll go to plan B.”

“What’s plan B?” Baen smirked at Pollux, almost anticipating the answer. Pollux grinned in return, flourishing daggers in both hands, “Today is a good day to die, my friends.” With a sharp whistle, four dragons emerged from the skies and landed just long enough to pick up their respective riders before heading back towards the battlefield. It was time for him to get his hands extra dirty.

@daily-writing-challenge

#story #pollux #dwc2023 #novemberdwc2023