Is gone now. That girl is dead, and not coming back to life. It is horrifying to try all I might to bring my past back to life, and I lay here crying, my fingertips dancing across the keyboard in desperation to preserve that which I once was.
But she's gone. Gone. It's never coming back. My mother, my life before, I can't even count on the darkness in my past to rise back up like some horrendous dragon, melting from the sins and depravity of the world once was that makes it live. Everything has been stolen and replaced with Krystiana's new life.
My world has slipped away, and my mind cannot keep up. I feel myself floating down onto this new road and I don't quite understand it.
I would give anything sometimes, to be who I was.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Monday, May 23, 2011
Honest to God
So, I figured, I will actually post some things I've written for once. Involving Ikedo and Maserai, at least one thing anyway. I've tortured my livejournal account with drabbles.
So many lives lay on her shoulders, creating a burden she did not wish to share. The chains of slavery had been shattered and melted to form their armor and their weapons. There was no going back from here. Before her master's death, she could have gone back to being his slave. Maserai would never have to exist and she would be able to put the plight of her people behind her. Aureha would still exist, as a loyal servant who lived in quieted fear and unsure hatred, mixed with lingering love.
Instead, she had been a fool. It caused her the loss of her name, her wings, her initial purpose in life. What had it given her in return? A destroyed city they tried to rebuild, ex-slaves forced to become soldiers. She had gained nothing, and lost everything.
"My Lady," Maserai tilted her head up, feeling a familiar hand on the back of her head. Nothing was too cruel. She had gained a friend. Blind he may have been, he was the one she felt closest to. He knelt beside her, his hand struggling to find her shoulder after getting tangled in her hair. It had already started growing back from where her now deceased master had cut it. "Are you well?"
"I am fine, you've nothing to worry about." She cooed, reaching over and grabbing his hand. It was hard not to smile in his company. The heat radiating from his body pulsed softly, reminding her of a peaceful flame as it neared the final minutes of existence. It mixed with her own, slipping past her defenses and filling her heart.
"Sometimes I wonder if that is a lie, My Lady." He mused. The playful smirk on his face took the edge from his words. He had become more playful since the battle. "You have been busy much of the day. Are you not tired?"
Maserai studied his face. It was softer, a little feminine compared to the other men she had seen. His usually tense, narrow jaw was lax, bringing his mouth open just a little bit. The smirk had faded into a neutral line of concern as it always did. He was harder to read than the others, thanks to the blindfold obstructing the view of his eyes. She hated that; her curiosity too great for her own good.
"How have you been keeping occupied, Ikedo?" She asked, dodging his question. Exhaustion attributed some to her depressing thoughts before. His jaw tensed, lips closing and curling into a frown. He did not appreciate the question.
"You don't have to answer." Maserai mused, moving his hand from her shoulder. The hot air between them became tense, his expression falling into a hurt one. She hated that it was the only one she could read from his face. Why could he not just express his feelings to her? They had been together at the start of this rebellion, and she would not walk through it without him.
She moved to rise, but stopped when she felt his hand wrap around her forearm. Ikedo tugged, pulling her down onto him. His hands moved to her shoulders, gripping them as he pulled her into a kiss. Shock and confusion washed over her, leaving her stunned in his grasp for only a few moments before she leaned into the kiss. Heat filled the tent, emanating off their bodies like a bright aura. Any hotter, and the tent itself would burn down, she was sure of it.
It felt good, though. To kiss him, to undress him in the darkness of her tent, undisturbed by any other. The sensations were unlike any other as they explored each other's bodies with their lips, their hands, everything except for eyes. The burden on her shoulders disappeared in his arms, the guilt of her crimes giving way to ecstasy. Something about it felt too right, too good to be true.
So many lives lay on her shoulders, creating a burden she did not wish to share. The chains of slavery had been shattered and melted to form their armor and their weapons. There was no going back from here. Before her master's death, she could have gone back to being his slave. Maserai would never have to exist and she would be able to put the plight of her people behind her. Aureha would still exist, as a loyal servant who lived in quieted fear and unsure hatred, mixed with lingering love.
Instead, she had been a fool. It caused her the loss of her name, her wings, her initial purpose in life. What had it given her in return? A destroyed city they tried to rebuild, ex-slaves forced to become soldiers. She had gained nothing, and lost everything.
"My Lady," Maserai tilted her head up, feeling a familiar hand on the back of her head. Nothing was too cruel. She had gained a friend. Blind he may have been, he was the one she felt closest to. He knelt beside her, his hand struggling to find her shoulder after getting tangled in her hair. It had already started growing back from where her now deceased master had cut it. "Are you well?"
"I am fine, you've nothing to worry about." She cooed, reaching over and grabbing his hand. It was hard not to smile in his company. The heat radiating from his body pulsed softly, reminding her of a peaceful flame as it neared the final minutes of existence. It mixed with her own, slipping past her defenses and filling her heart.
"Sometimes I wonder if that is a lie, My Lady." He mused. The playful smirk on his face took the edge from his words. He had become more playful since the battle. "You have been busy much of the day. Are you not tired?"
Maserai studied his face. It was softer, a little feminine compared to the other men she had seen. His usually tense, narrow jaw was lax, bringing his mouth open just a little bit. The smirk had faded into a neutral line of concern as it always did. He was harder to read than the others, thanks to the blindfold obstructing the view of his eyes. She hated that; her curiosity too great for her own good.
"How have you been keeping occupied, Ikedo?" She asked, dodging his question. Exhaustion attributed some to her depressing thoughts before. His jaw tensed, lips closing and curling into a frown. He did not appreciate the question.
"You don't have to answer." Maserai mused, moving his hand from her shoulder. The hot air between them became tense, his expression falling into a hurt one. She hated that it was the only one she could read from his face. Why could he not just express his feelings to her? They had been together at the start of this rebellion, and she would not walk through it without him.
She moved to rise, but stopped when she felt his hand wrap around her forearm. Ikedo tugged, pulling her down onto him. His hands moved to her shoulders, gripping them as he pulled her into a kiss. Shock and confusion washed over her, leaving her stunned in his grasp for only a few moments before she leaned into the kiss. Heat filled the tent, emanating off their bodies like a bright aura. Any hotter, and the tent itself would burn down, she was sure of it.
It felt good, though. To kiss him, to undress him in the darkness of her tent, undisturbed by any other. The sensations were unlike any other as they explored each other's bodies with their lips, their hands, everything except for eyes. The burden on her shoulders disappeared in his arms, the guilt of her crimes giving way to ecstasy. Something about it felt too right, too good to be true.
Even in the morning, however, as the night left them naked in each other's arms, it still feel too good. Love had been something she did not want to allow herself, yet in him, she was finding it with all the vigor of a young girl. It was unreal, yet all too real.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
The Irritation of the Writer
One, Dragon Age II is addictive. I hate Anders with a violent passion though. (You remember me of a mage version of Edward Cullen, Anders. Do not want.) And most of my playthrough has been devoted to convincing Fenris I am on his side and a good person and deserved to be liked!
...Yes. I aim to seduce the elf. Of course, I pick the runaway slave. I could have picked cute little Merril! But no. I want the ex-slave. He reminds me of a bitchier, broodier Ikedo... Sans wings and raging demon in his head, of course.
Two, I have this deep desire to write on book two for my Phoenix trilogy. Why is this? I like that version of Ikedo. He is awfully careless in his lifestyle, even a bit depressed at times and broody(Ha!). I must finish War of Flames first, however...
A writer's work. It never ends.
...Yes. I aim to seduce the elf. Of course, I pick the runaway slave. I could have picked cute little Merril! But no. I want the ex-slave. He reminds me of a bitchier, broodier Ikedo... Sans wings and raging demon in his head, of course.
Two, I have this deep desire to write on book two for my Phoenix trilogy. Why is this? I like that version of Ikedo. He is awfully careless in his lifestyle, even a bit depressed at times and broody(Ha!). I must finish War of Flames first, however...
A writer's work. It never ends.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Life of a Wannabe Author
No two writers work the same way. Some see characters and worlds as tools to create. I used to be one of those people. Then Ikedo introduced himself to my horrendous life, and here we are now.
I no longer see them as tools. My characters are my family now. Children artificially created to show the world. (Although, I have all the plans in the world to adopt an actual child. Or two. Adoption is good, people.) I worry over them. Fuss over them. They live in my heart and brain. Some sleep until they're called upon by me, others occupy their time doing other things. (Autumn, stop duct taping the doll in the box. It isn't going anywhere.)
That's a story you'll read in her blog at another time. I hope you all enjoy that plot line, and if you have Twitter accounts, if you would kindly follow the lovely Autumn Eve Trinity on Twitter then Friday, I will direct you, on that account, to who else you should follow. And even if not, I can point you to a list to watch and read over and you'll see all of the Marvel Role Players in that group.
That aside. I have projects I am working on, yes. A short story, titled Where Will You Sleep, may be running to publication soon. War of Flames is still being worked on, as is The Arcana.
I also am contemplating a few other projects to take on at this moment. I am planning on doing some writing exercises. Already, I have two art trades planned. I am writing Dragon Age II fan fictions, two of them, for two pictures. I just need to get to work on that. Fenris is a difficult character to write for, despite my love of the elf. (And hatred of Anders. He reminds me of Edward Cullen with his dialogue.)
Alright, it is time I return to my craft. I need to finish Where Will You Sleep before the end of the week, so I can send it to my personal editor. (I love you, my darling one!) Then off to Beneath Ceaseless Skies it goes after revisions are made.
I love you all dearly. My friends, my peers. Even just the passing by strangers. Future readers of my stories, I hope.
Also, I figured I'd actually talk about my life away from writing for a moment without divulging too many details.
Like many living beings at the moment, I work, minimum wage, at a restaurant. I will not tell you which one, just know we lie. All restaurants lie. End of story. If we all told the truth, you would never want to eat in the establishment again because you would feel betrayed.
And also, yes, we grow weary of your need of "extra napkins". We give you what is advised. If you are "so messy" no amount of our napkins will help keep you clean. Trust me.
Screaming children are the bane of my existence and the reason I understand why anyone would bury their sorrows in the drink. Rude customers do it to me, too. Why be rude to the people serving you food? It makes little sense to me. You are no better than us, we are no better than you. Act rude one more time to the poor little thing at the cash register who's feet are already killing her, and she's going to shank you.
I kid, I kid. Possibly. I am a very disgruntled employee. But the customers are not the only ones who anger me, it's the owner of our particular store. I'll leave you to think on that.
I have been spending more time out in the woods, enjoying nature. Feeling free for the first time in ages. It is spring time now, and everything shines like an emerald. For fantasy writers, scenery matters, and getting to study nature without having to leave home is a wonderful joy. I just wish I had the guts to go farther out on my own. Perhaps this summer, I will build the courage to venture out and see what awaits me.
My sleep patterns have not improved. I only really sleep anymore when I have no energy to do much else, or am sick. I fear sleeping lately. That dream... I am horrified it will come back.
Returning to my writing life. Or rather, discussing how these characters of mine "live" in my head. It is sort of comical in ways that they interact. Especially when you consider some of them. My lovely Anastasiya, who was nearly comatose since my mother's passing, seems to have stirred and woken. And no one is pleased about it. In fact, I read over the drafted material for her story and figured I could salvage it.
Judgment. It will be the first time I venture out of my comfort zone. What do I mean? A mixture of SF, and horror. But how far can I take that, I wonder? Perhaps just pick one or the other. Meaning it has to be horror.
Also. I think I need a new email address...
Enough of my rambling for now.
I no longer see them as tools. My characters are my family now. Children artificially created to show the world. (Although, I have all the plans in the world to adopt an actual child. Or two. Adoption is good, people.) I worry over them. Fuss over them. They live in my heart and brain. Some sleep until they're called upon by me, others occupy their time doing other things. (Autumn, stop duct taping the doll in the box. It isn't going anywhere.)
That's a story you'll read in her blog at another time. I hope you all enjoy that plot line, and if you have Twitter accounts, if you would kindly follow the lovely Autumn Eve Trinity on Twitter then Friday, I will direct you, on that account, to who else you should follow. And even if not, I can point you to a list to watch and read over and you'll see all of the Marvel Role Players in that group.
That aside. I have projects I am working on, yes. A short story, titled Where Will You Sleep, may be running to publication soon. War of Flames is still being worked on, as is The Arcana.
I also am contemplating a few other projects to take on at this moment. I am planning on doing some writing exercises. Already, I have two art trades planned. I am writing Dragon Age II fan fictions, two of them, for two pictures. I just need to get to work on that. Fenris is a difficult character to write for, despite my love of the elf. (And hatred of Anders. He reminds me of Edward Cullen with his dialogue.)
Alright, it is time I return to my craft. I need to finish Where Will You Sleep before the end of the week, so I can send it to my personal editor. (I love you, my darling one!) Then off to Beneath Ceaseless Skies it goes after revisions are made.
I love you all dearly. My friends, my peers. Even just the passing by strangers. Future readers of my stories, I hope.
Also, I figured I'd actually talk about my life away from writing for a moment without divulging too many details.
Like many living beings at the moment, I work, minimum wage, at a restaurant. I will not tell you which one, just know we lie. All restaurants lie. End of story. If we all told the truth, you would never want to eat in the establishment again because you would feel betrayed.
And also, yes, we grow weary of your need of "extra napkins". We give you what is advised. If you are "so messy" no amount of our napkins will help keep you clean. Trust me.
Screaming children are the bane of my existence and the reason I understand why anyone would bury their sorrows in the drink. Rude customers do it to me, too. Why be rude to the people serving you food? It makes little sense to me. You are no better than us, we are no better than you. Act rude one more time to the poor little thing at the cash register who's feet are already killing her, and she's going to shank you.
I kid, I kid. Possibly. I am a very disgruntled employee. But the customers are not the only ones who anger me, it's the owner of our particular store. I'll leave you to think on that.
I have been spending more time out in the woods, enjoying nature. Feeling free for the first time in ages. It is spring time now, and everything shines like an emerald. For fantasy writers, scenery matters, and getting to study nature without having to leave home is a wonderful joy. I just wish I had the guts to go farther out on my own. Perhaps this summer, I will build the courage to venture out and see what awaits me.
My sleep patterns have not improved. I only really sleep anymore when I have no energy to do much else, or am sick. I fear sleeping lately. That dream... I am horrified it will come back.
Returning to my writing life. Or rather, discussing how these characters of mine "live" in my head. It is sort of comical in ways that they interact. Especially when you consider some of them. My lovely Anastasiya, who was nearly comatose since my mother's passing, seems to have stirred and woken. And no one is pleased about it. In fact, I read over the drafted material for her story and figured I could salvage it.
Judgment. It will be the first time I venture out of my comfort zone. What do I mean? A mixture of SF, and horror. But how far can I take that, I wonder? Perhaps just pick one or the other. Meaning it has to be horror.
Also. I think I need a new email address...
Enough of my rambling for now.
Monday, April 25, 2011
So Tired...
So, I have remained mostly quiet. And kept you mostly out of my life. For this, you have my sincerest of apologies. Some days, sitting down to write feels like being part of the war efforts. Others, it is a jovial experience like a parade.
I wanted this blog to be something I can look back on when I get published. Smile and laugh at how difficult things seemed. Mock my own annoying habits and giggle at my insomnia induced rambling.
Today, I come to you, weary and achy, recovering from some godforsaken illness... A dear friend of mine is losing everything, my world of words is still crashing all around me. I no longer have the strength to even "perch" like I always did. My beloved is losing her home, and I my sanity and funds.
All I want... Is to know when I will stop being tired. When will I rise from bed, at the time the sun rises in the sky, and feel like a mighty Phoenix? Like I so very much claim to be...
I want to feel strong again. I want to feel like fire again. I want to burn so bright and powerful, that even the sun stops to stare.
I miss Ikedo's presence. I miss the dreams, the "conversations". I missed when he felt real! With him, lies to strength of not only the Queen he loves so very much, but my strength as well. We depend on him for life. For stability. For power. And we crave his attention. Like hungry lovers, waiting in his harem, we wish for his words. His embrace. We wish only to be acknowledged and loved by him.
But why?
Why him? Why me? How did I become the one cursed to know him? Cursed to meet him?
Do I regret any of it...?
I wanted this blog to be something I can look back on when I get published. Smile and laugh at how difficult things seemed. Mock my own annoying habits and giggle at my insomnia induced rambling.
Today, I come to you, weary and achy, recovering from some godforsaken illness... A dear friend of mine is losing everything, my world of words is still crashing all around me. I no longer have the strength to even "perch" like I always did. My beloved is losing her home, and I my sanity and funds.
All I want... Is to know when I will stop being tired. When will I rise from bed, at the time the sun rises in the sky, and feel like a mighty Phoenix? Like I so very much claim to be...
I want to feel strong again. I want to feel like fire again. I want to burn so bright and powerful, that even the sun stops to stare.
I miss Ikedo's presence. I miss the dreams, the "conversations". I missed when he felt real! With him, lies to strength of not only the Queen he loves so very much, but my strength as well. We depend on him for life. For stability. For power. And we crave his attention. Like hungry lovers, waiting in his harem, we wish for his words. His embrace. We wish only to be acknowledged and loved by him.
But why?
Why him? Why me? How did I become the one cursed to know him? Cursed to meet him?
Do I regret any of it...?
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Say hello to the Queen
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
The Boy With Stars in His Hair
Five years...
I am now nineteen years old. I saw the boy with stars in his hair when I was fourteen. I remember the dream so well. His face, his hair, those eyes like two black holes piercing my very being... And stretched behind him? Two, large wings that looked like the cosmos was painted across them. He made me feel... Strangely safe.
I remember the journey. I remember the fighting, the friends, the laughter. It was all a dream, within another dream. I remember his face... Innocent. I remember the climb up the mountain, the dragon, the flames, the blood, the gate. Screaming, crying. I remember when he stood in the way. His shouts, "Go!". Standing in the gate. His body, his body. Blood, empty eyes, my own screams as my body bolted from my bed, tears pouring down my face...
He was something so far from reality. A very embodiment of the cosmos, there for me to touch. For me to feel. I was something so innocent in front of him.
Five years, and I still remember the way he looked. Five years, and I will never forget his death. Why can't I let him escape my mind? Why do I cling to his memory? He wasn't real.
Just like I cling to Ikedo... How I beg him to stay with me. I know one day, I'll be saying goodbye. One day, he'll be gone from me, and I'll be clinging to the shreds of a memory. And I'm not ready for that.
Ikedo... Please don't go just yet. I feel like I'll drown without you.
I am now nineteen years old. I saw the boy with stars in his hair when I was fourteen. I remember the dream so well. His face, his hair, those eyes like two black holes piercing my very being... And stretched behind him? Two, large wings that looked like the cosmos was painted across them. He made me feel... Strangely safe.
I remember the journey. I remember the fighting, the friends, the laughter. It was all a dream, within another dream. I remember his face... Innocent. I remember the climb up the mountain, the dragon, the flames, the blood, the gate. Screaming, crying. I remember when he stood in the way. His shouts, "Go!". Standing in the gate. His body, his body. Blood, empty eyes, my own screams as my body bolted from my bed, tears pouring down my face...
He was something so far from reality. A very embodiment of the cosmos, there for me to touch. For me to feel. I was something so innocent in front of him.
Five years, and I still remember the way he looked. Five years, and I will never forget his death. Why can't I let him escape my mind? Why do I cling to his memory? He wasn't real.
Just like I cling to Ikedo... How I beg him to stay with me. I know one day, I'll be saying goodbye. One day, he'll be gone from me, and I'll be clinging to the shreds of a memory. And I'm not ready for that.
Ikedo... Please don't go just yet. I feel like I'll drown without you.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
The VERY happy Writer
Short and sweet. Got a commission of Ikedo today and I can't wait to share it.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
The Anxious Writer
Not even published, and I'm anxious. Not even close to publication, and I'm anxious. I think about... What it will be like. I find myself dreaming about the day I walk into a bookstore and I see it. Large, gold letters printed "War of Flames" with my name there. I find myself dreaming about going on a book tour, talking about it, being interviewed, a film. I picture my life changing so vastly.
But at the same time, I know it might not happen. It is difficult to keep my feet on the ground and my head out of the clouds, but I reach higher and higher each time I sit down to write. I find myself anxious, thinking, "War of Flames will be what makes me. It will become who I am in this world. It will be how I get my standing."
And then I realize, War of Flames may get me no where. People may not read it. May not like it. May hate it. I could become the next Stephanie Meyer for my faults and failures. But, on the same coin, I realize, I could be in the same ring as Tolkien.
As if. That man's writing is superb and absolutely bloody insane.
Also. The Anxious Writer has an Arcana teaser for you.
But at the same time, I know it might not happen. It is difficult to keep my feet on the ground and my head out of the clouds, but I reach higher and higher each time I sit down to write. I find myself anxious, thinking, "War of Flames will be what makes me. It will become who I am in this world. It will be how I get my standing."
And then I realize, War of Flames may get me no where. People may not read it. May not like it. May hate it. I could become the next Stephanie Meyer for my faults and failures. But, on the same coin, I realize, I could be in the same ring as Tolkien.
As if. That man's writing is superb and absolutely bloody insane.
Also. The Anxious Writer has an Arcana teaser for you.
Standing above her guests, watching over them on the balcony on the second floor of the White Rose Villa made her feel like God in her own home. Her hands covered in white gloves rest on the railing that kept her from falling over, blue eyes scanning the ballroom. Tonight was a night of celebration for the Captain of The Arcana. Autumn Eve Trinity, successful in her one hundredth job, which was to capture a highly wanted criminal named Gambit.
If it had not been for President Kelly asking her and the fact she knew this woman, only briefly in her youth, then the celebration would be held elsewhere. Emma did not like having too many people in her home. It was difficult for her to even tolerate The Hellfire Club, of which she was the White Queen, there.
Her icy gaze narrowed on the Captain, a woman awkward to be called such as she looked around nervously. She was speaking with the president, but never once met his gaze. His horrible, sickening gaze was only to be rivaled by her very own. The good Captain's hair was tied in a bun that was steadily coming undone as she nodded fast and looked around faster.
<i>“Stoptalkingstoptalkingstoptalking. God, why are you still talking? I did what you wanted, now go away! Gogogogogogo!”</i>
Her mind was running faster than anyone else at the party. Shame that she was the guest of honor. President Kelly had that effect on most Captains, however. He held their lives in his hands, crushing them with a mere smile and flick of the wrist. She had seen it happen in the past, and knew it would happen in the future. This Captain, Autumn, would surely fall like the rest.
<i>“You're going to kill him. Why discuss him with me? Those eyes... Those wonderful eyes... Gone from my life in a blink. That man, a thief of hearts... Kelly, why? He was just some common thief..!”<i>
Emma chuckled and turned away, heading for the stairs. The crazed Captain had fallen for the man she had captured. That was new. Then again, most Captains were male, sent after male targets and it was very rare a gay one survived past the Academy.
The song changed as her foot met the floor past the final step, changing to a beautiful, passionate waltz mid-song. A small smirk played on her lips as she calmly stepped over to President Kelly and the Captain. The young woman seemed almost relieved to see her arrival, and quickly relaxed.
“President Kelly, Miss Trinity.” Emma nodded her head to both of them, eyes barely catching Autumn's. The Captain's eyes almost appeared gold tonight, but she knew them to be brown. On occasion they would look desaturated if she were doing something rather forbidden.
The Captain of The Arcana, like all the ones before her, was a mutant. The Arcana was Kelly's way of getting rid of the mutants in the military. He was a sly bastard at best, but he knew very little about the sort of thing he was dealing with. Mutants were all around him. In his military, working as his servants, and even in the well-loved Hellfire Club that influenced him so greatly. If only he knew.
“Ah, Miss Frost!” Kelly exclaimed, gray gaze turned toward her. A smile stretched across his thin lips. “So lovely of you to come see your guests. It has been far too long!”
“Has it, dear President?” Emma said smoothly, offering him a modest smile and keeping her eyes down at his hands that now wrapped around one of her own. The poison in her eyes was easily hidden by her gaze and smooth, luxurious voice. “Why, it seems like only yesterday we were discussing your latest campaign against the mutant race!”
It was a lie that he accepted so easily as truth. He was such a tool, accepting anything that rolled smoothly off the tongue of a beautiful woman. He offered a casual laugh, gaze turning to the Captain again. The hatred he had for her was almost visible when he looked at her. The girl had done everything he asked, bending over backwards for his approval, only to earn his bitter gaze and poisonous silky words.
“Might I have a moment alone with our lovely guest of honor, President Kelly?” Emma asked casually, looking Autumn over slowly. Navy blue dress, dark red corset, lighter blue sash held together with a little clock with pearls wrapping around it made up a very simple dress. No jewelry or embellishments offered her any extra glamor or attention. She was quite plain and dingy compared to everyone else. A mere weed in comparison to herself.
“Of course, of course!” There was a slight hesitation in his words, concern in his voice. He lingered before briskly walking away to harass another member of his precious military. A man in his inner circle, one of the commanders she imagined.
Emma's attention fled back to Autumn. The look in her eyes was a mixture of relief and rising fear. The thoughts spinning in her little head were of the same message. The poor girl could hardly tell if she was friend or foe. Chasing away President Robert Kelly apparently was not enough to convince her of her intentions. Such a daft child.
Sincerely,
Your Anxious, Wannabe Author, Krystiana
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)