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 25 Word-Prompt Challenge

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Draxscanas
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PostSubject: 25 Word-Prompt Challenge   Tue Mar 20, 2012 12:40 am

Here is my word-prompt challenge work. A collection of drabbles/ficlets/novellas/Hizumi's fucking long-winded story things.

Enjoy, all my lovelies. Comments are more than welcome--tell me which one was your favorite!


Table of Contents:

Page One:
1. Addict (Erimiel)
2. Wishing (Tülay)
3. Create (Llulus)
4. Undefeated (Alöis)
5. Silent (Erimiel)
6. Illumination/Fireside (Alöis)
7. Liquor (Alöis)
8. Flight (Erimiel)
9. Merged (Alöis)
10. Silk (Llulus)
11. Cradle (Sevrïn)
12. First (Llulus)
13. Worn (Tülay)
14. Write (Erimiel)

Page Two:

15. Expecting (Llulus)
16. Insatiable (Tülay) (NSFW!)
17. Learning (Sevrïn)
18. Burn (Alöis)
19. Training (Llulus)
20. Peace (Erimiel)
21. Fear/Frightened (Tülay)
22. Build (Sevrïn)
23. Submit (Alöis) (NSFW!)
24. Play (Tülay)
25. Aging (Sevrïn)

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PostSubject: Re: 25 Word-Prompt Challenge   Tue Mar 20, 2012 1:00 am


1. Addict

Ad·dict; Noun:
1. A person who is addicted to a particular substance, typically an illegal drug.
2. An enthusiastic devotee of a specified thing or activity.
All she wants to do is to sleep. To sleep and not wake until everything is over. Erimiel wants to ignore what is going on outside the walls of this house, to keep going on through life as she has been. But there is that familiar itching in her fingertips--the urge practically making them shake--and already the words of what she could write and how she could write it are running through her mind. They won't leave her alone, no matter how much she tosses and turns and curses under her breath.

Every sound is magnified tenfold now, from the low pops of the fire dying down to the occasional sporadic bray of the donkey out in his stable. And then everything clicks into place, and Erimiel cannot ignore the siren's call of the written word any longer. With a frustrated (yet somewhat elated) noise, she throws back the blankets and turns on the light as she makes her way to her desk. She sits in her chair, eyes heavy-lidded from lack of rest as she fixes a piece of paper into the typewriter. She shivers, but for once she makes no move to go grab a blanket or even build up the fire again. She must get this out now, or she will lose the flow and direction of this story.

She begins, everything coming out in a frantic rush as she makes sure to remember each phrase with accurate precision. As it begins to take life beneath her fingers, the doubts rise out of the shadows, whispering warnings to her. If she continues to feed and breathe this document into a full, complete existance, there will be repercussions. Dire ones. Deadly ones.

She can see his face in her mind's eye. Softly waving hair the color of wine, with wide, haunted brown eyes that pierced her down to her core. To top it all off, it was obvious from the way it was hanging at an odd angle that one snow-white wing had been fractured. He had not even hit full puberty yet, and the amount of suffering lining his face had revealed everything to her like an open book. He had ignited a flame in her breast, a strange ferocity that had never been there before; an intense, protective and angry fire that made the blood pound in her ears. He had not dare stay for long, but she had wrenched every detail from him before he left, and she had made sure Zuikiel gave the boy a pack of supplies, a weapon, and she herself drew up a map and a set of directions to the nearest rogue outpost that she knew of. She did not know why now of all times this instinct had chosen to make an appearance, but whatever it was, it was not letting go. And she was letting it take her with it, bloody consequences be damned.

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PostSubject: Re: 25 Word-Prompt Challenge   Tue Mar 20, 2012 1:04 am

2. Wishing
He watched them with flickers of envy, swallowing and returning to his cooking. Dmitri and Sägan were flirting again, their interest in each other obvious. Tülay recalled the first day that the Equim had joined their little caravan, and how he'd walked in the back room to see what was taking Sägan so long to get outside. He'd found them both passed out in bed together, naked as naked could be, the scent of sex still lingering in the air. Flushing violently, he had shaken the larger Amon awake and left the room quickly, informing him that they had to leave within the hour. Since then, he had watched the two of them grow close to each other, always laughing and flirting with the other. Each time he saw it added another stab to the fluttering feeling in his chest, pinning it down like a nail in a butterfly in someone's collection. What made it worse was that he couldn't hate either of them--Dmitri because she was too sweet and kind to him, and Sägan because . . . well, there really wasn't a reason, but Tülay couldn't all the same.

Axïs felt it too, he knew--they talked about it sometimes; how in the perfect world Axïs would have the courage to approach Dmitri and confess how beautiful she was and how he wanted nothing more than to sweep her off her feet. And then she'd swoon and fall into his arms and they'd live happily ever after, etcetera etcetera. Tülay, for his part, simply wanted clarification on this strange interest Sägan seemed to have in him. Before Dmitri came along, Tülay would've liked to say that Sägan may have been on the path to returning Tülay's feelings--the other flirted with him a lot back then--but now, that should have all stopped, shouldn't it? Sägan had Dmitri now, so it stood to reason that he would ignore Tülay's existence, right? Well, he flirted with most everyone else too, but why would he count Tülay in amongst those people? He didn't think there was really anything special about him to warrant such interest. Before, it was probably because it was only five of them in a group together, but now they were quickly growing in number. It was confusing.

Sägan's rich laughter echoed across the camp, causing Tülay to glance over once more as the tall Amon draped himself over Alöis to murmur some words in the Merger's ear. Alöis' laughter joined the air as well, and the two of them rose, heading a little ways away to spar, exchanging playful banter between themselves. Llulus followed behind with obvious interest, ruffling through her sketchbook for a blank page.

Shaking his head, Tülay sighed. That was what he wanted, he decided. He wanted to know if he had a chance or not. He wanted to know if he should stop wishing for a future that could never be in a million years.

. . . And he wanted his heart to be silent.


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PostSubject: Re: 25 Word-Prompt Challenge   Tue Mar 20, 2012 1:07 am

3. Create

She hasn't made anything in such a long time. Being on the road, Llulus hasn't had many opportunities to work with metal or jewels since she and Dmitri had left a lot behind when they joined the caravan. This included a large amount of Lulu's work (both sewing, sketching, and jewelry).

She missed it. The careful process of weaving delicate chains that could snap if you tugged too hard, the pounding rhythm that reminded her of drums as she beat the metal beneath her hands into sockets that would hold gems. She especially missed rifling through the piles of glittering jewels that would be set in front of her, examining the faceted crystals for the perfect one that would fulfill her vision of the thing she was setting out to make. There were times where she even missed the occasional violent pain when she would burn or stab or otherwise maim herself--after all, one didn't make a masterpiece without pouring their sweat and blood and tears into it.

She was sitting on the edge of one of the wagons, swinging her feet as she took a break from walking. It was thankfully a cool day, and there was a nice breeze despite the bright sunshine. The idea of a nap was sounding appealing to her, as she had a little while before someone else would want a turn to rest their legs. So she got onto her knees and crawled towards the back, but a particularly hard bump in the road sent her tumbling against one of the crates resting against the wall. She heard a tiny yelp from Dmitri's direction as she caught Lulu's pain on the air, and Lulu herself sat up and rubbed her still-sore side.

"Sorry sweetie!"

Once Dmitri called back to reassure her that she was alright, Llulus opened the crate up to make sure that she hadn't crushed anything fragile inside. Interestingly, she spotted a small fabric bag that seemed to have been dislodged from its place beneath an unused pot (that had been ruined the one time Dmitri tried to cook and had been distracted by anything and everything). Curious, she reached down and tugged it the rest of the way free, lifting it up to get a better look--she recognized it.

To Lulu's surprise, when she untied the drawstrings and peered inside, she spotted several shiny things. Familiar shiny things. With a cry of delight, she pulled a blanket down in front of her and poured the contents out carefully, making sure nothing rolled away. Resting between her legs was a good deal of some unfinished work she had been making before this journey. She didn't know if she or Dmitri had grabbed it, but the smile on her face could light up all of Anoris Sanctis, she was sure. Scooping the contents back into the bag, she scuttled around the wagon until she had located her tools, then she sat and waited, lying on a few blankets as she brought out her sketchbook and flicking to some familiar pages with old drafts scribbled here and there on them. When they stopped tonight and she had plenty of time, she knew exactly what she was going to do. Her hand flew across the page as she made necessary alterations to the drawings as well as completely new ones, her imagination working hard to make up for lost time.


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PostSubject: Re: 25 Word-Prompt Challenge   Tue Mar 20, 2012 1:10 am

4. Undefeated

"How's our big bad prisoner doing?" Alöis says, sauntering up to the bound, grumpy Araphim who's resting his body against a tree-trunk.

Imbriel's irritated gaze alights on Alöis' form, mouth turned down into a fierce frown. Alöis smiles, steel eyes narrowing as he approaches the Agonista slowly. For all his arrogance and bravado, Alöis knows very well that the man he is walking towards is just as dangerous tied up as not. Contrary to popular belief, and regardless of the personae he portrays to others, Alöis is not an idiot.

"Go away."

"Mm. Nope."

Alöis plunks himself down on a stump and cocks his head to the side as he observes Imbriel cooly. It has been several weeks now since the failed attempt on his and Axïs' life, and the caravan had seen fit to cease the full-body binding of the deadly creature in front of him. Imbriel was now down to simple shackles 'round his wrists and ankles, although Lulu had been a little too generous with the length of the chain for most people's liking. But Alöis kept the key upon his person at all times, and Llulus held one to the metal chest that held Imbriel's scythe. (She and Dmitri kept their clothing and blankets in there. Rather fitting, in a way, Alöis thought.)

"What do you want?"

"You know, it always amazes me that you ask that each time I come over here to bother you, sweetheart."

"Don't you ever grow bored with such games?"

Alöis' eyes flash like drawn swords as his gaze turns sinister.

"Not really. I don't care for myself that much, but you threatened the life of my brother. So, no, I do not think I will never tire of these 'games'." he says, leaning forward as he speaks with venom on his tongue.

Imbriel does not flinch, but his eyes harden a little. He says nothing, and the conversation seems to be at a standstill. They continue to stare each other, engaged in some odd clash of wills. Imbriel looks almost tired; weary. Alöis tries unsuccessfully to have sympathy.

A breeze starts up, the wind blowing some of Imbriel's dark hair into his face and breaking their eye-contact as he shakes his head with a loud exhale, trying to see again. Alöis raises one brow, then rises to his feet and moves closer while the other struggles. Imbriel gives a bit of a start as Alöis sits behind him, taking a handful of that long silky hair and tugging back slightly.

"What in the name of Keynkaidron are you doing?" Imbriel snarls, trying to twist away from Alöis' sudden (deceptive, Imbriel's mind whispered) touch.

"You have such long," he pulls at the tresses, causing the Araphim to hiss (perhaps in unwilling pleasure) as Alöis separates them into strips.

". . . soft,"

Tug.

". . . black,"

Another.

"noble hair."

Alöis begins to weave the strips into a simple plait; Imbriel sits up tall and stiff, his blood-red wings rustling in agitation as he tries not to recoil from Alöis' touch--at least, that's how it seems to Alöis anyway.

"A respectable, good Araphim is measured by his beautiful hair, am I right?" Alöis says softly, almost amazed at the length of the curls in his hands.

The other does not deign him with a response.

"Imbriel." The name glides over his tongue with the smooth beauty every Araphim name has as Alöis finishes up the near two-foot long braid. He thinks he detects the hint of a shudder running up that spine, and he cannot help the little grin that starts to spread across his lips.

"I am right, aren't I? This, along with your scythe, is the last remnant of your old life. Of your honor." Alöis purrs, voice oh-so soft and trailing through the air like a lover's caress as he runs his fingers along the exposed, pale nape of the Agoniasta's neck.

Imbriel seems to realize what is happening at the last second, and makes a valiant attempt to lunge out of Alöis' reach just as the Amon slices his knife through those elegant, interwoven locks. The sound of the blade cutting through hair seems to echo loudly through the air; overwhelming all other noise despite Imbriel's agonized, terrified cry. The Araphim's body lurching forward only helps to sever the hair completely and utterly. He falls to the ground hard and without grace, not even trying to throw out his arms to catch himself. Alöis, meanwhile, stands, the little smile that had been building now gone and replaced with a calm mask as he watches the pititful display before him. Imbriel rolls over to stare up at him, eyes wide and face full of anger. Hatred. Alöis pulls the cord from around his neck and tosses it at Imbriel, the key stirring the dust as it lands near the Agonista's side.

"You are free now. So run along home, mighty Warlord. If you can, that is." says Alöis, staring down at the crumbling shell of a man at his feet. Then he turns and walks off, still clutching the braid in his scarred hand and ignoring the little whisper of "betrayer" that rings in his ears.

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PostSubject: Re: 25 Word-Prompt Challenge   Tue Mar 20, 2012 1:12 am

5. Silent

There are a lot of things that she doesn't say. How she feels a lot of the time, for starters. But then again, Erimiel has always let her writing speak for her, never really bothering to open her mouth and use her tongue unless it was to lash it like a whip. The only person who had ever managed to get her to speak more than a few words a day was her father, and he surely wanted nothing to do with her anymore.

. . . Correction: he had probably wanted nothing to do with her for several years now, and her betrayal had most definitely been the straw that broke the donkey's back. And that was a fact that no amount of erasing and white-out would change; Erimiel had realized long ago that one cannot alter the parchment upon which their own story is being written. Change the direction it is going in, yes, but no going back and erasing passages to create new ones in their place.

She peered up over the edge of her book to watch the people around her. Zuikiel had gone off somewhere with the Equim--she was becoming fascinated by them recently, Erimiel noticed--and Sentriel had her back to the fire, sitting and cracking jokes with the Murmur. Erimiel had found herself rather unnerved by Sentriel's presence as of late, not quite understanding the strange longing that would lodge itself in her throat whenever the other was around. It wasn't unlike the feeling she used to have for Zuikiel (probably still had, if she allowed herself to look for it), and that scared her. She had learned the hard way about what happened when she desired something, and she had no intention of pursuing this feeling. As such, she had been trying to distance herself from the others more than usual, keeping near her tent and re-reading the books she'd brought with her from her home. Sentriel had picked up on this, however, and seemed to take Erimiel's silence as some sort of challenge to pester her constantly.

She really did enjoy Sentriel's company, and Erimiel also would not deny the thrill of lust that liked to play around her spine whenever the red-headed Araphim was around, but there was something wild and dangerous about Sentriel that had Erimiel uneasy. Something that cautioned her against playing lightly with the other--a good, quick fuck was entirely out of the question, regardless of the tantalizing prospect dangling in front of her nose. A relationship with the other female needed to be different. Or Erimiel needed to be different. Or something.

She could not voice these thoughts, she knew. She would stumble over her words and say them entirely the wrong way. Erimiel was a writer; she could write a letter to tell someone to go fuck themselves in the most beautifully eloquent way possible--but she could not say as much via word of mouth. She could write a speech, but she could not say it.

So, she thought as she watched Sentriel's gaze flick over from the fire to catch her own, I shall keep this to myself.

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PostSubject: Re: 25 Word-Prompt Challenge   Tue Mar 20, 2012 1:15 am

6. Illumination/Fireside

Alöis always sits a ways back from the camp's fire, and he knows that it sometimes puzzles the rest of the caravan. He doesn't quite understand why, as he thinks it should be blindingly obvious to anyone why someone like him--someone with his scars--should fear fire. No one asks, however, so he never clarifies anything.

. . . Or, rather, no one had asked before now.

He glances at the Araphim next to him and raises an eyebrow. Imbriel looks back at him calmly, although there is a flicker of unease in those eyes, as if he seemed to worry that he had overstepped his bounds; something that could shatter this strange almost-truce that the two of them were building between each other in the months since Alöis' knife had rid the other of his honorable black tresses. But Alöis just shrugs, turning and watching the others move around the area, noise level winding down as people start to turn in for the night. He is stalling, and Imbriel knows it.

"So, you want to know the whole ugly truth? It's not a very happy story, you know. You won't like it. Well, actually, you might. I don't know how much you still hunger for bloodshed."

There is no response, nor does Imbriel rise to the bait. Although, to be fair, Alöis hadn't really expected him to. He sighs.

"Alright. Wanna snuggle close to me as I regale you the tale of my heroism, dear prisoner?"

A rolling of the eyes and an irrated huff is all he recieves from the Araphim. That makes him feel better. A little.

"Just remember that you asked." Alöis says, sitting back in a much more comfortable position, gaze now focusing on the campfire. Imbriel watches him intently, still silent as Alöis pauses a moment before beginning.

"Axïs and I were little. Seven or eight, I think, or somewhere around there. I was in the kitchen, trying to find something to eat, and Axïs was off doing his own thing. Suddenly, the ground started to shake, and I could hear yelling outside. Röen, our caretaker, called out for all of us to run for the back door, the windows, or whatever it took to get us to safety. At the time, none of us kids were really fully aware of the Agonista threat--they only existed in nightmares and half-forgotten memories from past lives, or as whispered ghost-stories to scare the younger ones."

Imbriel's face was immaculate, smoothed out into a calm, too-stiff mask that didn't fool Alöis for a minute. Obviously something he was saying was getting under the Araphim's skin, for good or ill.

"Everybody went running every which-way, and as I started to exit the kitchen, something flew in through one of our windows with a big explosion that knocked me back into a bunch of shelves. They fell on me, and I think I fainted, because when I woke up and managed to wriggle out of the rubble, I saw fire and smelled smoke as it started to catch in the kitchen. I stumbed away and towards the main room, calling for Axïs. He yelled back that he couldn't get out or get over to me because a bunch of debris had fallen down in front of him. We were too small to really move any of it out of the way, so we had to start looking for an opening in the wreckage that he could possibly fit through. He was smaller than me, so we figured it shouldn't be too hard. But we were fighting against the clock, and the fire was getting closer and closer to us. We could see the back door wide open--that was our goal."

He is remembering as he speaks, and his speech speeds up a little as he tries to match his words to the tempo of the memories playing out in his head. If Imbriel notices a change, he doesn't show it, and Alöis is too far gone to care if he does.

"He finally came across something passable, and started to crawl through it. He was so slow. Or the fire was too fast. Either way, he was taking too long, and because I was urging him to hurry he became distracted and got wedged in. By this point we were both panicking and having a hard time breathing from the smoke. And the heat from the fire was so strong. I reached for him, tugging on his arms as hard as I could, and even though it hurt him, he let me do it as he kicked and struggled to free himself. When I finally pulled him out, we raced for the door as best we could, the fire right on top of us. We got out of the house, but some wood from our roof fell nearby, sending a bunch of sparks in the air. I shoved him behind me to shield him, but I hadn't realized . . . "

Alöis reaches up a hand to run it over the right side of his face with a hollow laugh.

"When I fell in the kitchen, I'd been covered in a bunch of cooking shit. Flour, yeast, sugar, rice, and, above all, oil."

He is stubbornly refusing to look at Imbriel--he'd thought that he at most would get some sick pleasure from watching the other's face, but he is realizing that he doesn't want to see it. He doesn't need pity, or remorse, or whatever. He wants to stop here. He doesn't want to finish talking. He'd already said that it wasn't a pretty story, so surely Imbriel had his curiousity sated by now, right? He could just leave and go to bed, or go for a walk, or watch the stars, or something. Something other than this. He'd get up right now, even. But his stupid mouth kept moving, the words and memories being yanked out of him; spun into this tale straight out of his nightmares. He'd set the ball in motion, and now he was being dragged behind it, powerless to stop it.

". . . It hurt. By the Void, it hurt so much. I vaguely remember Axïs yelling at me to roll on the ground, and he started hitting me with his shirt to try and put the fire out. I'm told I went unconscious after that. I don't know how he did it, but Axïs managed to drag my ass into the safety of the trees. He says that he hid us in a bush, covering my body with his own to try and protect me as best he could. We were lucky that none of the Agonistas spotted us. Andri would've had a field day, I'm sure. But, as fate would have it, we were found the next morning by one of the caretakers who'd managed to get away safely. He told Axïs that Röen was dead and we were to live with him now. A healer was sent for me, but no one expected me to make it--after sleeping a whole night and half a day face-down in the dirt and mud, the wounds had become filthy and infected. They kept me so doped up on pain-meds that I don't remember a fucking thing about those next few days. Axïs doesn't like to talk about it, so I don't have any fine details, nor would I ever push him for them. But, against the odds, I lived. And here I am."

His mouth and tongue are dry, and he is sitting upright again, hands clenched in his lap tightly as he finally wrenches his gaze away from the fire to look at the man beside him. He is surprised to find Imbriel's gaze free of pity, only a calm acceptance in the rose-colored eyes. There has to be more going on in that strange mind, but Alöis does not ask. Instead, his traitorous lips open again to cause further embarrassment to himself.

". . . You are the first person I've told that story to. Even Sägan doesn't quite know everything that happened." he says, glancing at the other out of the corner of his eyes. "Of course, you're also the first that really cared enough to ask. Or was curious enough to. Either or."

He rises to his feet, finally, dusting the grass off his backside.

"I'm going to bed, I think. You . . ." he pauses, clearing his throat. "You should sleep too. We've got a long day tomorrow." he turns and starts to go inside his tent, eyes well-adjusted to the darker light. He stops himself, flap lifted slightly. Another long pause, then:

". . . Sleep well, Imbriel."


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PostSubject: Re: 25 Word-Prompt Challenge   Tue Mar 20, 2012 1:27 am

7. Liquor

Everything was delightfully fuzzy, and Alöis just felt good. There was music and dancing, and he watched his caravan-members letting loose under the influence of the alcohol they'd procured in town. Zuikiel was now half-naked, dancing and rubbing againt Dmitri, who was currently trying to seduce Axïs at the same time. Erimiel was leaning against Sentriel with the first true smile Alöis had ever seen on her face, attempting to snuggle into the red-head's abundant bosom. And Tülay was just sitting back a ways, watching everything whilst giggling completely uncontrollably. Sevrïn was off somewhere, possibly with Llulus, since Alöis recalled them sneaking off together. Sägan was laughing uprariously at something as he tried and failed to dance, stumbling a little over his own hooves.

Imbriel was sitting next to Alöis as per their usual, swirling the wine around in his cup. He'd barely drunk anything, seemingly disapproving of the "barbaric" (as it probably seemed to him) behaviour of all present.

"C'mon feathers, lighten up a little. It'sh been a long time since we could relax like this. We gotta deshtination in mind, we got people supporting us, and we're safe here at your sister's . . . posht. Shtashion. Thing. Would it hurtcha to look a little lessh glum?"

The Araphim raised an eyebrow in response, and, almost as if he'd been challenged, tossed back the liquor in one swallow. Alöis could tell that Imbriel regretted it instantly, as the pink eyes went unfocused and he made the most spectacular face that Alöis had ever seen him make. It was so hilarious that he burst out laughing, tipping backwards and falling onto the ground. His own drink spilled across the grass, but it didn't matter.

"Not what I had in mind, exshactly," he said when his glee finally subsided and he could sit up again, chest still shaking with the occasional snicker. Imbriel seemed a little woozy, no doubt feeling the effects of all the alcohol rushing to his head. Alöis draped an arm around the slim shoulders, pulling the Araphim closer to him.

"Jusht relax a little. Don't fight it."

Alöis was suddenly acutely aware of the warmth of the man beside him, those red wings rustling in a strange kind of agitation that fascinated him. And then there was a light, strange sort of noise that reverberated in the back of Imbriel's throat, bubbling upwards until it emerged from him in a low laugh. Surprised, Alöis craned his neck down to stare the other in the face, feeling a warm sensation growing in his navel at the sight that was a smiling Imbriel (albeit a drunken smile). All those worry-lines were lifted, and the timbre of the Agonista's voice was pleasing and so deliciously deep as he chuckled.

". . . Now why ya gotta go and do that?" he said softly, leaning in so close that their noses almost touched.

Imbriel swallowed thickly.

"Do what?"

"Go and be lookin' so handshome. Thatsh not the way it's supposhed to go."

And then those rose-colored eyes widened, the flush on his cheeks deepening in color and spreading to long, delicate ears. Soft lips parted in surprise, and Alöis could not hold back the desire that was whistling through his veins. He leaned over, bringing his mouth to the other man's, the hand that was not slumped over Imbriel's shoulders coming up to fist itself in the short, dark hair. The Araphim gasped into the kiss, and the Amon took that opportunity to snake his tongue inside, tangling easily with Imbriel's in a lazy dance. He didn't bother to try and vie for dominance, preferring instead to enjoy the taste of wine that still lingered on both their lips and the hazy heat that was building between them.

He pulled away slowly, returning to that surprisingly soft mouth several times before reluctantly allowing them both to sit back and catch their breath. The fire was reflected in Imbriel's light eyes, and Alöis couldn't help but to move forward and nip along that exquisite jawline. When the Araphim growled low in his throat, the sound went straight to Alöis' cock, and he brought his face back upwards to meet Imbriel's gaze.

"My tent. Now."

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PostSubject: Re: 25 Word-Prompt Challenge   Tue Mar 20, 2012 1:33 am

8. Flight

She had never thought she would be able to get off the ground, to be honest, and throughout her life had resigned herself to a life without using her wings for little more than momentum. After the Merge, however, she saw other people much heavier than herself soaring over her head. Something had happened to everyone's bodies it seemed, and while she had been skeptical at first, Erimiel caught herself stretching her muscles one day--seemingly with all purpose and intent to take flight. And she had let herself be taken away, allowing a glimmer of hope as she beat them up and down in a mindless rythm, not knowing the first thing about flying. But despite her pitiful knowledge of anything involving things airborne, she soon found herself a foot above the ground. After that, things had come almost naturally. She still did not take wing often (she preferred to stay firmly rooted to the earth, thank you) but at this moment she was watching a certain little someone with curiosity.

He was standing a good ways away from her, staring up at the sky and watching the people up there. Erimiel glanced up herself, catching sight of a number of rogues--Zuikiel among them--who were currently enjoying the afternoon. Green eyes flicked back to the observer, who sighed dreamily and smiled. She would have just shrugged and moved on had she not caught the longing in his gaze. That is what made her stop and think, and after a moment she set her book aside, rose, and walked towards him. He turned as she approached, sensitive ears picking up her footfalls. He looked at her in surprise, blinking in confusion.

"D-do you need something, Erimiel?" Tülay asked, looking a bit apprehensive. Smart boy.

"Turn around."

". . . W-what?"

"Come a bit closer, and turn around."

A nervous pause.

"Uhm, okay . . ."

He did as she asked, then squeaked in shock as she looped her arms underneath his armpits to lock around his chest, securing a good grip on him. He flailed a moment, but ceased at a sharp harrumph from her.

"Hush. Hang on."

With one fell swoop, she unfurled her wings and took off, ignoring his startled gasp. He gave a frightened cry, and she could feel his pulse beneath her palms as it quickened the higher they got in the sky. His breath was coming fast and light, but as she glanced down, she saw his eyes light up with wonder, the fear gradually disappearing from his face the more they ascended.

"It's . . . so beautiful . . . !"

Unbidden, Erimiel felt a small smile creep onto her lips as she watched her passenger relax and begin to look around with delight, eyes drinking everything in. She turned and aimed downward, letting his hooves just graze the grass before pulling the two of them back upwards again. She could see some of the other caravan members looking at them curiously, and felt her face burn as she realized how undignified she must look. Tülay did not appear to notice her discomfort, however:

"Sevrïn, Sägan, look! I'm flying!"

In the end, Erimiel thought, it didn't matter about her pride, or any of all that. She found, to her surprise, that she was enjoying herself. And the fact that the little person in her arms was so full of happiness more than made up for it all anyways, so she decided to just be content and enjoy the afternoon sky, the silence of the clouds broken only by the sound of Tülay's laughter.

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PostSubject: Re: 25 Word-Prompt Challenge   Tue Mar 20, 2012 1:35 am

9. Merged

Alöis looked over the edge of the cliff, staring down at the long drop. Axïs stood back a little ways from him, timid and not wanting to get as close as his twin was. Dmitri was by her lover's side, massaging his shoulders with a tender smile and whispering encouraging words in his ears. Alöis was ignoring all this, completely caught up in the look of the foliage growing along the mountain's edge, and how green the grass was along the side of the river all those hundreds of feet below. His heart was beating quickly with adrenaline, nervousness fraying the edges and trying to make him uncertain. Trying to make him cowardly.

Stubbornly, he straightened up, casting his glance skyward as the breeze played with his hair and brought the scent of dawn with it; of dew and wildness and the strange newness of the air as it began to warm itself from the sun's rays. He took in a deep breath, tasting the wind on his tongue and letting it out with a sigh. The gusts were strong, and he unfurled his wings instinctively, flapping them once as he took a step closer to the precipice. He closed his eyes, and despite the terrified squeak of "Brother!" from Axïs behind him, jumped.

For a brief moment, as he hurtled downwards, Alöis felt the smallest flicker of fear. He had recieved instructions on what to do from Sentriel and Zuikiel, but hearing about something without practicing it did not adequately prepare someone for something like this. His eyes were open now, and the ground was coming closer and closer to his falling body. His vision was blurred from the speed, eyes watering and heart providing the drumbeat to accompany the whistling in his ears. He did not know if the others were watching or not: whether his brother was waiting with baited breath or maybe even if Süra was getting ready to cheer on the off-chance that Alöis' body crunched into the earth.

Then suddenly, with an oddly mechanized movement, his wings flapped, propelling his body in an entirely different direction than he'd been falling, shooting Alöis upwards and away from the ground. The breath in his lungs escaped him in a ragged exhale, and he found himself airborne. Higher and higher he climbed, his new muscles pumping as they got their first proper work-out. The sun had now fully broken over the horizon, rising along with him and bathing everything in light. The atmosphere was starting to lose the warm palette of sunrise, giving way to the gentle blue of day as Alöis flew higher, staring up into the fading colors and spreading his arms towards an untouched patch of rose-colored sky.

". . . Can you see me from where you are?" he asked, a hand coming up to touch the soft feather braided in his hair. He glanced at it for a moment before looking back up, almost as if he expected an answer from the untouchable heavens. And when he got none, he sighed and turned downwards, soaring back to the cliff to help his sibling.

I miss you.

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PostSubject: Re: 25 Word-Prompt Challenge   Tue Mar 20, 2012 1:36 am

10. Silk

It was soft and smooth, and Llulus found it very hard to hold onto the fabric as it tried to slip through her hands like water. She'd never seen anything like it all the years she'd lived, and quite frankly, she had no idea what to do with it. Yesterday she had asked Erimiel and Zuikiel if she could have any scraps of cloth they had not been using, and had recieved a great tub-ful for her efforts, which was much more than she'd thought to recieve, honestly. Inside the tub had been wool, linen, and even some leather--things she was familiar with--but there had also been several swaths of this; this strange, light material that had been dyed glorious colors. When she'd asked Zuikiel what it was, the Araphim had looked at her strangely before replying "It's silk, silly!" with a kind-hearted laugh. Silk . . . it reminded Llulus vaguely of satin (which she had also seen only once or twice and never worked with--it was simply far too expensive), though a lot less shiny and much, much lighter. More delicate, as well. Zuikiel had told her it was used mostly for gowns, as it wasn't exactly ideal for keeping warm.

Llulus glanced over by the fire, watching Dmitri dance with her slightly swelling belly, and smiled. She pulled out her sketchbook, leaning forward and starting to scribble a design on the paper. Light, normally used for gowns, aye? Then, something short, and made for movement . . . yes. Yes, this "silk" might just be the perfect thing she needed.

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PostSubject: Re: 25 Word-Prompt Challenge   Tue Mar 20, 2012 1:37 am

11. Cradle(s)

He had built it himself, and was now standing back and admiring his handiwork with a pleased smile. It was not until his brother suggested it to him that Sevrïn had even thought of such a thing, and the very day Tülay mentioned it, he'd drawn up the schematics. This was the perfect gift, and he knew it.

There were three little cribs welded together, all of them circular and separated with a thin but strong layer of mesh-liner. This was to create the effect of togetherness without the triplets actually being able to tangle with each other as they slept--Tülay had warned Sevrïn that, unless he or Phawnne or Knox wanted to watch the babies sleep all night, they needed to keep them separated just in case they suffocated each other on accident (Sevrïn shuddered at the thought).

In each bassinet was a soft mattress and three sets of individual quilted bedding that he'd commissioned from Zuikiel to make sure that the triplets did not rub against the metal painfully. The cribs were suspended above the ground, connected to a stand so that they could be gently rocked, and descending from the cieling was a little mobile that Sevrïn had made from a bunch of left over and oddly-shaped scraps from his workshop (all smoothed out so there would be no chance of cuts, naturally) with a little music-box attatched to the whole thing. The cribs themselves were made of brass, with delicate whorling filligree etched into every part of the metal. It was truly a work of art.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Sevrïn turned and went out into the living room, motioning to his lovers. When they had stood, he put blindfolds on both of them and carefully guided them into the nursery while holding on tightly to the ties of the fabric (he did not trust either of them). When he at last maneuvered the other two into the room, he stepped away, allowing them to see his finished product.

"For the little ones," he said, suddenly feeling embarassed and a bit sheepish, flushing up to his ears as he scratched behind his head with a nervous smile, hooves scuffing the ground as he did so. "Um, what do you think?"

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PostSubject: Re: 25 Word-Prompt Challenge   Tue Mar 20, 2012 1:37 am

12. First

Part of Llulus had wanted him to be the one. Despite the overwhelming rush of insanely confusing emotions that ran through her blood whenever they were around each other, she had desired him from the start. Their tentative friendship had turned swiftly into a full-blown rivalry, and just thinking about his face had put a snarl on her lips and an intense burning in the pit of her stomach. She hadn't known what any of it meant, and at the end of a day of sparring and fighting and cursing everything from each other's mothers to their toenails, all she knew was that it was dumb.

She didn't like it. She didn't like not knowing what she wanted from Treiv. There were times when she wanted to just wail on him with all her might, empathy-be-damned, and then there were those moments where she wanted nothing more than to melt into his strong, toned chest and have him kiss her with all the force of his fighting spirit. Then she would shake herself from her daydream, making a face and calling herself an idiot before doing something else to distract herself.

There were also moments when they were actually sparring that would set her body on fire; little sparks of feeling that would fly from his mind and connect to hers like two swords clashing together. Flickers of lust, doused in want and sweet longing for power would snake through her head before leaping back to his once more, a powerful predator stealing away some of her own feelings and returning them to Treiv like a dog setting its kill at his master's feet. And his eyes would catch hers, their gazes interlocking as they breathed and felt as one being until the link would break.

. . . Her first was not Treiv. Nor her second, third, or even her tenth. She did not even have him in her life for many, many years. But she has him now, and she does not ever plan on letting go. He was not her first--but he is her best, and her last, and her only.

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PostSubject: Re: 25 Word-Prompt Challenge   Tue Mar 20, 2012 1:39 am

13. Worn

"I just patched this for you! How did you get it ruined again in a matter of days?" Tülay says with incredulous frustration, pulling out his sewing kit and narrowing his eyes at a wholly un-guilty Sägan, who is holding a ripped orange shirt out to him.

"Working."

A raised brow is all Tülay responds with.

". . . Also I might have gotten into a hypothetical fight with Lëar."

"One, I do not think that word means what you think it means in that context, and two, why would you do that? Lëar's always been very kind."

Sägan says nothing, but Tülay swears he sees something akin to a snarl flit across the other's face. But it's gone so quickly that he cannot be certain. So Tülay raises his other eyebrow and crosses his arms over his chest, still not accepting the shirt. Sägan frowns and sighs heavily.

"He was talking about your ass, okay?"

Tülay flushes scarlet, eyes widening in surprise.

"And no one gets to talk about your ass to the guys at work except me."

"Wha--?! You--? You mean you actually--? That's supposed to be private, Sägan! Kept between us!"

"Oh, like you really care all that much."

Sägan ducks with practiced ease as Tülay suddenly throws a thimble at his head.

"Careful there honey. That's spousal abuse."

"By the Void, just leave the shirt and get out!"

"So fiesty!"

"OUT!"

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PostSubject: Re: 25 Word-Prompt Challenge   Tue Mar 20, 2012 1:45 am

14. Write

Her hands flew over the keys, head bowed and shoulders hunched in concentration as she worked. Her expression changed depending on what she wrote--when she got passionate about a passage she would jerk with each strike and pound just a little harder on the keyboard than was normal, the sound reverberating all through the house. If she couldn't think of the right word, or how to phrase something just the right way she wanted, it wasn't too abnormal to see a spot of blood on her lips from where she'd chewed on it in concentration.

Here was the fervor that she kept hidden behind her eyes; here was her drive to do something that was rarely seen. She felt almost at peace, letting the thoughts and words flow from her mind and lips down through her veins to escape from her fingertips in a quick tap of ink.

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PostSubject: Re: 25 Word-Prompt Challenge   Tue Mar 20, 2012 1:47 am

15. Expecting

She's huge, and it's a chore just to get up to go into the bedroom for a nap. Llulus practically waddles through the doorways, her hands rubbing at her back because it's hurting all the time now. In the first few months of this pregnancy, she'd been excited and felt great--the sex was fantastic, her skin was soft and smooth, and her hair had never been shinier. She hadn't had any morning sickness either, and if asked, she would've said that she was feeling in the prime of health.

However, all those happytime hormones seemed to be dying down now, being replaced instead with "YOU'RE FAT AND UGLY AND EVERYTHING SUCKS FOR YOU" ones. She has pimples, her breasts are sore and swollen (as well as her feet and ankles), and she sure as hell doesn't feel sexy anymore. The nausea that had evaded her in the beginning months has chosen to show up now instead, and she has to use the bathroom so often that she feels she might as well just sleep in there. She had been content to wait until her baby came, but now she was impatient for this whole ordeal to just be over.

She can't get comfortable on the mattress, and she huffs in frustration, feeling tears prickle at her eyes even though she shouldn't be crying over something as ridiculous as a fucking mattress. She'd thought she was done with the mood-swinging thing after the first trimester, but it seemed to be coming back with a vengeance these last two weeks. Doubtless it was because she hadn't been getting any decent sleep (the little bastard in her womb liked to perform acrobatics at 4 in the bloody morning), but it was still not fun at all. And speaking of which, she feels the baby start up again, using her liver as a punching bag to tone its developing muscles.

Sighing and resigning herself to another fruitless nap, she tries to focus on the fan blowing stale air across her face, hoping to Voidfather that she could just cool down. Soon, however, she opens her eyes at the sound of footsteps, spotting Treiv standing in the doorway looking at her.

"Did you know that your spawn is preventing me from getting any rest?" she says venomously, to which she only recieves a grin.

"It's half yours too, you know."

"I don't care. It's all your fault I'm in this mess."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Love."

"That's the thing. I don't sleep at night."

Treiv chuckles and sits on the edge of the bed, leaning over and kissing her once before reaching into the bedsite cabinet and pulling out a small bottle of oil.

"Sit up a bit," he says, handing her a few pillows as she positions them behind her back, reclining against them as he pushes her shirt up and pours some of the oil on his hands. She jumps at first--"It's cold!"--but soon lets out a happy sigh as Treiv begins to massage her abdomen. Tülay had shown them both how to do this at one of Lulu's check-ups a while back, and she had never been more grateful in her life. Her husband's strong hands were gentle with her, and she watched the smile on his face widen as the baby kicked and punched in response to his touch. He looks at her then, and the softness of his gaze is enough to make her forget how fat and ugly she feels. All that matters is this moment, and she knows that once they hold their child in their arms for the first time, all of the bad will be replaced with good.

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PostSubject: Re: 25 Word-Prompt Challenge   Tue Mar 20, 2012 1:52 am

16. Insatiable

Tülay whimpers, hands scrabbling for a hold on the blankets as he arches his body upwards. His nails scrape against the fabric, leaving behind little runs and grooves in the sheets that he'll probably be miffed about later. At the moment, however, he is too far gone to care.

"S-Säga-aah-an . . . nnh, Sägan . . . !" his hips are moving upwards and down in a frenzy, his head tossing back and forth on the pillow beneath him. His belly is already coated from his earlier climax, but he is still erect and desperate, crying out each time his lover brushes his prostate in a hard thrust.

He suddenly finds himself being pulled upwards, Sägan settling him in his lap. Tülay gasps and shivers, legs clenching around the larger Amon's sides as Sägan bends and covers his neck in harsh bites, strong hands stroking a searing trail down Tülay's spine before settling on the smooth fur of his arse, tugging playfully at his tail. It's sensitive, and Tülay cries out and he grabs a fistful of Sägan's white hair as his lover twists and pinches a hard nipple.

Everything in him is burning, his body singing beneath Sägan's talented fingers and teeth and tongue. He tugs on Sägan's hair, directing the other's gaze to meet his own. Tülay has always expressed to Sägan his need for more than physical intimacy in times like this, and he leans forward, bold and assertive in his actions as he frantically brushes his lips against Sägan's. He hears Sägan's voice reverberating in the air; Tülay's name being said with such reverent desire fans the flames in the small Amon's blood.

"Please," he begs, eyes fluttering as he feels the sweet heaviness in his core tensing expectantly. He nuzzles at his lover's ear, panting and moaning as he wriggles in Sägan's lap. And then Sägan is kissing him at last, Tülay surrendering instantly, craving the violent affection that he recieves from the other, those teeth marking and bruising his swollen lips, tongues replicating the carnal dance of their bodies. The heavy rhythm pounds in his ears louder than any drum he's ever heard, and everything inside him tenses at once before releasing in a violent crescendo, his voice ripped from his throat in a high, clear note. He shudders as he feels Sägan groan into his sweat-slicked skin as he comes, and Tülay gyrates his hips languidly, doing his best to increase the pleasure for his partner.

And when their breathing has started to return to normal, Tülay kisses Sägan softly and tenderly, eyes feeling heavy as he basks in the warmth of their afterglow. He is, as always, elated when he recieves kisses back, and he is sure his smile is reflected in his eyes as he relaxes in his lover's embrace. And if he discovers that his affection is mirrored in a certain someone's amber eyes, he keeps it to himself, tucking the memory of it away in his heart for safe-keeping. He is content, sleepy, and sated.

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PostSubject: Re: 25 Word-Prompt Challenge   Tue Mar 20, 2012 1:55 am

17. Learning

It is crucial that he not lose his focus at this moment, his hand holding the ruler tightly to make sure that he does not slip up and draw an un-straight line. He brings his pencil down and swipes it over the paper smoothly as his ear suddenly twitches, all concentration flying out the window as the door swings open with a bang. He sits upright with a start, barely managing not to spill his ink over the blueprints beneath his hands. He turns his head quickly, a little huff of frustration building in his throat, but it stutters and dies when he sees three inquisitive little heads peeking in from outside with wide eyes. He can see already how they seem to regret this decision, watches the gears turn in their brains as they come to the conclusion that bothering daddy at this time might not have been the best idea.

Sevrïn shakes his head then, capping the inkwell and brushing away the blueprints (that are thankfully not ruined), and bringing his body completely around to face the doorway. He opens his arms and makes a beckoning motion, feeling a bit lighter-hearted as the worry vanishes from those innocent faces and they come charging at him, throwing themselves into his embrace with vigor.

"What are you three doing here? Where's Daddy?" he asked, lifting his daughter up into his lap. The boys seemed to be content on the ground.

"Sleeping."

The Amon rolls his eyes, but smiles anyway. It happens. Besides, he knows full well that his husband was up until late the previous night. From work as well as . . . other things. He feels slightly bad for poor Phawnne, who didn't get the luxury of the best sleep either and was now working hard. And so, babysitting has now fallen to him.

"Well, why don't the three of you go get your things, and you can stay in here while I work?"

A rapid shaking of heads in dissent. He raises an eyebrow in inquiry, and they all smile up at him cheekily.

"Teach us!"

"Teach you . . .?" he asks, sipping from his water-skein.

"We want to make things! Like all those things we found in Mommy's box under the bed!"

Sevrïn splutters and coughs, water dribbling all down his front as his daughter squeals and scrambles off his lap to avoid getting wet while the boys giggle in delight. Little imps.

"I can't tell you that. But I can show you how to make other things."

"LIKE WHAT?"

Three pairs of eager, sparkling eyes are hovering at his side. It is very hard to say no to them, ever. He knows that they're going to be completely spoilt before they're ten. Although that isn't all entirely Sevrïn's fault. He clears his throat, reaching up to the candy jar on the high shelf, dishing out a sweet to each of them (and one for himself) as he casts around for an idea. His eyes alight on a box that is holding some plans and parts for some toys he is working on for the triplet's birthday, and then he spots some blueprints for a flying machine that he's been toying with for a while (not that he ever expects them to work, mind you). Smiling, he gets to his feet, motioning for the children to follow him. They do so, and he brings them all over to his big crate of scraps.

Sevrïn rummages through the pile of metal and fabric, handing certain pieces to each child as he goes until he finally straightens up. They're all looking at him with curiousity and slight confusion, but he can still sense their excitement.

"We'll make a kite." he says. "One for each of you. If any one of you ends up really liking the work, I'll teach you more."

He opens the windows nice and wide, allowing the fresh air and sunlight into the dark room, clearing off a space on the floor before setting down a tarp. He then sits, and the triplets plop around him, arms still full of materials that he tells them to set in the middle between them all. He explains the general set up to two of them, letting them get started in the process of trial-and-error as they try to follow the directions as he pulls his blind son between his legs, guiding the youngster's hands with his own; showing him what to do through touch and sound. He knows that the other two (who quickly decide to swordfight instead of actually make anything) are distracting, but his son listens with rapt attention, tongue sticking out of his mouth in concetration.

"Relax, Tenderfoot. You've got it, don't worry," he says into the boy's ear with a smile, patting his arm reassuringly. "You'll be the only one with a kite by the end of this, I think."

At the sound of that, the other two drop their "weapons" and squat back down, trying to make up for the time they've wasted. Sevrïn's grin widens as one of them brings a pitiful, bedraggled contrapment over to him, asking for help. But, by the end of it all, three adequate (if a little bit haphazard) kites are lying on his workshop floor, and he christens them as fly-ready by attatching some tails that he wove during the whole process to the ends of each toy, along with three skeins of thread.

"Sevrïn? Where are you guys?"

"In here, Knox. Come on, let's go show daddy what you've made, aye?"

"Yeah!"

And then the three of them scamper out into the sunlight, barreling towards their blue-haired father, Sevrïn following along after them with a content smile on his face.

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PostSubject: Re: 25 Word-Prompt Challenge   Tue Mar 20, 2012 1:56 am

18. Burn

There were rare moments when Alöis' eyes would catch sight of himself in the mirror and jump with a start, leaning in and staring a moment before reaching a hand up to touch the right side of his face. Then he would marvel at the smoothness of the skin, the lack of discoloration, and even the soft, delicate eyelashes on his eyelid; things that used to be vastly different at one point in time.

There were times when he actually missed the scars that had marred his appearance. They had been a part of him that shaped who he was today, and he felt almost . . . out of place in this perfect body. Who would want to follow a leader who bore no marks to show what he had been through in his life? He didn't even have the normal, tiny scars that everyone accumulates throughout their lifetime anymore. Nothing to show of skinned knees, his once-broken arm, or the old scratches from the grumpy but loveable cat he and Axïs used to own. It was like he was disconnected from those memories, almost as if the person he saw in them was not himself.

And then, without fail, there would be always be something to distract him from these musings, and off he would go, leaving the room to do whatever it was at the time that needed tended to. But, every time he would look back, glancing once more at his reflection before shrugging and continuing on.

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PostSubject: Re: 25 Word-Prompt Challenge   Tue Mar 20, 2012 1:56 am

19. Training

Llulus dodged and ducked, managing to avoid the outward swipe of a long leg before rolling across the ground to rise and leap at the muscled figure she'd managed to flank, aiming a blow towards Treiv's upper back. He whirled his body just in time however, catching her 'round the wrists and grinning cheekily as he leaned in and stole a quick kiss.

"Better luck next time, my lovely."

She opened her mouth to quip a scathing comment, but he dropped her hands and swung towards her, and whatever she had to say was lost as they resumed their combat.

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PostSubject: Re: 25 Word-Prompt Challenge   Tue Mar 20, 2012 1:58 am

20. Peace

She can hear the labored breathing of Zuikiel having a nightmare in the next room, even through the walls. The only way Erimiel knows it is over is when a strangled gasp echoes through the house, and the blonde hunkers down and waits, continuing her sewing. Sentriel is also awake, and they speak quietly to alert Zuikiel to the fact that they are, in fact, awake. And sure enough:

"You two still 'wake?" comes the sleep-slurred voice from the doorway.

"Mm."

"Y've been doin' that all day. Shouldn'tcha rest?"

"I know, I know. Go back to sleep, it's okay. I'll be fine." Erimiel says almost off-handedly, although she does cast a look over to the other and nods in what she hopes is a comforting gesture. However, Zuikiel continues to stand there.

". . . Do you want to sleep in here?"

Zuikiel seems to hesitate, and Erimiel turns back to her sewing, threading a delicate needle. She does not need to glance at the bed to know that Sentriel is already scooting over to make room. Nothing else is said, but she hears the slow shuffling of the smaller Araphim, and then the soft flump as Zuikiel crawls into Erimiel's bed. Delicate ears detect the sounds of deep sighs as Zuikiel slips easily back into sleep, and Erimiel sets down the quilt, and removes her work glasses, getting up slowly to her feet. She approaches the bed slowly and quietly, looking down at the tiny woman who is dwarfed even more by the massive pile of blankets that are atop of her body. Sentriel's brows are in her hairline as she looks at Erimiel, who simply shrugs, ignoring the irritating, knowing smirk on her lover's face as she gets in. She smacks the red-head on the arm, also ignoring the self-satisfied sniggers from the other rogue.

Erimiel slides down under the covers, and when Zuikiel snuggles into Eri's side, arms wrapping around her waist, she pretends that she's simply too tired to give a damn. And if Erimiel doesn't put up a fight when Sentriel tugs the two of them against her body, or if there is a smile on Erimiel's face when she finally sleeps, well, then that is obviously just a coincidence.

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PostSubject: Re: 25 Word-Prompt Challenge   Tue Mar 20, 2012 1:59 am

21. Fear/Frightened

It is still dark outside when Tülay picks up the sounds of hurried hoofsteps. He stays as he is, eyes keeping themselves shut determinedly as he hears the creaking of the bedroom door. However, they open when he hears the pathetic sniffles and feels the tug on the sheet around his shoulders.

"Papa?"

Küenne is standing next to the bed, eyes wide and glassy from the tears that are making their way down her cheeks. She gives a little cry as thunder booms outside, covering her over-sensitive ears with her hands. Tülay sits up at this, pulling the blankets back and picking her up with a quiet grunt of effort to set her in the bed with him. She quickly snuggles into his chest, hiding her face from the next flash of lightning. Tülay reaches out to try the light, but he isn't surprised when it does not turn on.

"Can't sleep, my lamb?"

She nods her head, still trembling as the storm rages on outside, and Tülay smiles and strokes her hair gently.

"Then you are more than welcome to stay right here." he says, humming quietly into her ear and cocooning her with his body and the bedsheets to soothe her back into sleep.

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PostSubject: Re: 25 Word-Prompt Challenge   Tue Mar 20, 2012 2:00 am

22. Build

It's by the time that their fourth child is born that Sevrïn begins to think about adding on more rooms to their home. The house is already quite large, but it consists mostly of a few large, open rooms rather than several smaller and enclosed areas. Which is wonderful, but he knows that there will be a need for more of those little rooms--he is not very knowledgeable in the ways of girl-children, but he does know that boys need their space eventually, so it is only logical that it would apply to females as well. And they are fast approaching that date, he thinks, watching the triplets peer their heads over the large bed to try and get a look at their newest sibling, shoving each other aside to try and get the best position to see. He makes a note to voice these opinions to Phawnne and Knox later, and the three of them will discuss his ideas. He has no doubt that at they will agree with him, but the only problem will be convincing Phawnne that she cannot build them all on her own--she will be desperate to do something after this long period of being "useless" and will no doubt boast that she could have the whole thing done in a matter of a few months. It will be a little challenging, but he is confident in he and Knox's abilities to soothe her pride and persuade her to hire a few other carpenters.

Sevrïn smiles then, reaching down to hoist one child up onto the bed as Knox allows the other two to dive-bomb into his arms. They reposition the children in their laps as Phawnne moves closer, allowing the triplets to finally see the strange little creature in their mother's embrace. Yes, he thinks, his ideas will definitely be waiting until later. For now, he is content to lie on this huge bed in this huge open room with his huge family.

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PostSubject: Re: 25 Word-Prompt Challenge   Tue Mar 20, 2012 2:01 am

23. Submit

“Ah! Ah! Ah, fuck, Imbriel . . .”

Alöis tangled his hands in the mane of dark hair, tilting his head back to expose the skin of his neck in an open invitation. Responding to his offer wordlessly, Imbriel took advantage, his mouth sucking and biting the swath of soft flesh presented to him and leaving behind angry red welts that stung deliciously in the cool air.

“Yes,” Alöis breathed, hips thrusting upwards as the Araphim moved beneath him, joining their bodies in this long sought-after dance. It was times like these when Alöis found himself giving everything over to the other; relinquishing the power that he always held onto so carefully. Without the safety of that control, he was completely vulnerable, and he could only hope that his lover realized just how much trust Alöis placed into those dangerous hands.

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PostSubject: Re: 25 Word-Prompt Challenge   Tue Mar 20, 2012 2:03 am

24. Play

Sägan is at it again, much to Tülay's dismay. The white-haired Amon has little Mïryn on his shoulders and Küenne at his side as the three of them stomp around the garden, crushing plants beneath their hooves and making "terrifying" roaring noises.

. . . All Tülay had asked was if they would help him weed, and this is what he has received in return. They are killing the weeds, granted, but they are also killing everything else. He makes a mental note to stop entrusting gardening tasks to his family members. Well, at least while Sägan is around. The girls are normally well-behaved when it is just the three of them, but trust Sägan to help their children toss all Tülay's lessons out the window.

"Must you?!" he huffs, getting to his feet and bushing the dirt from his clothes as he stomps over to the trio. Sägan looks unphased, pausing only a moment to reassure Küenne that Tülay isn't serious before continuing on. Grumbling darkly, Tülay picks up his rake and chases after them, swinging it around to smack his giant of a husband in the arse.

"Stop it! Just let me do it on my own then, you great, procrastinating oaf!"

Sägan is grinning, scooping up Küenne and high-tailing it out of the garden as the girls giggle hysterically. Tülay slams the gate closed behind them, locking it firmly and resting his rake against it before putting his hands on his hips and glaring accusingly at Sägan.

"And this is why you never get married, okay girls?"

"SÄGAN!"

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