This is primarily my writing dump, but I love me some useful practice.
Those who prefer illustration should visit the
art dump!
Want to see some literary flailing? I'm currently
freestyling a story.
Alternatively,
give me some details of a writing project you're blanking on and I'll suggest future steps or rework a trouble bit. Nothing's off-limits unless it breaks ToS. Whatever I come up with is yours to use, but keep in mind that I use this thread to show samples.
Speaking of, second and third post to see what I do. Third post is the more relevant of the two.
This is primarily my writing dump, but I love me some useful practice.
Those who prefer illustration should visit the
art dump!
Want to see some literary flailing? I'm currently
freestyling a story.
Alternatively,
give me some details of a writing project you're blanking on and I'll suggest future steps or rework a trouble bit. Nothing's off-limits unless it breaks ToS. Whatever I come up with is yours to use, but keep in mind that I use this thread to show samples.
Speaking of, second and third post to see what I do. Third post is the more relevant of the two.
[center][size=6][font=futura]Clan Bios, Newest at Top[/font][/size][/center]
[center][font=futura]Perpetual state of rewrite. The "good bits" are picked out in larger font. If you ever see a bolded section, you'll know I got tired of a given passage and am planning to replace it.[/font][/center]
[center][url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=13304592]
[img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/133046/13304592_350.png[/img]
[/url][/center]
[size=5]Glow-worm[/size]
-----
[size=2]A lone dragon perches at the threshold of the Wilds. Their claws weave intricate signs into the air, gestures half-hidden in the dusk of the deep jungle. Fulgurum watches with mild interest. The commonness of mages, druids all in this deep bower, robs the dance of some importance. [i]And yet.[/i] There is something irresistable about the mage's drifting motions, soft and delicate as seed-tufts on the wind.
Light blazes out.
Fulgurum surges to his feet, claws scoring the turf beneath him. The mage turns to him with alarm. He grins, gestures to glistening knives that line his jaw. As he joins the mage under the jungle eaves, shadows part and flow around his glowing smile. Its soft blue phosphorescence bathes them both. The mage raises her claws and begins to weave a ward.
"No, it's okay! It's alright! See, I work with light too! Except I'm rubbish at magic, right, so I breed mosses. There's this dye I'm working on, nontoxic, got some in my mouth right now actually, it really-"
The mage interrupts. "That's, ah, [i]very[/i] nice. I'm sorry, are you a guard? You see, I'm both cleared and equipped to be here, so , you know, no need to worry. Thank you though."
Fulgurum's jackal grin grows a bit strained. "Hah! Yeah, no worries! I'm actually something of a guide. If you're going into the deep jungle, I could escort you? I mean, light magic is sort of an interest of mine, you see my Charge is apparently somewhere in there and the dark-"
The mage nods politely enough. She thanks him graciously, comments on how interesting his work sounds. Unfortunately, you know how it is, research to be done, can't delay, best be heading back to examine these samples. Ta-ta! Thanks again!
The glowing grin vanishes.
Fulgurum sighs, pushes into the undergrowth with a bit more force than necessary. The trail is well-hidden, and why wouldn't it be? He is a [i]guide[/i], after all. He'd gone deeper than nearly anyone in the lair, hadn't he? But his Charge was deeper yet, ever deeper, ever further into the pathless darkness that had swallowed a hundred dragons older and wiser. He clears the edge of the trail and enters his little glade. He thumps gracelessly to the ground and rolls onto his back. His eyes turn to the canopy...[/size]
-----
[i]Above, his galaxy of blue pinpricks, sparkling and twinkling like a living thing, the gentle puffs of his breath stirring the false stars to frenzy. And they dance and glimmer and fade, and the mosses on the trees bear them up on shimmering pillars of sky. [/i]
...and he raises his claws up, frames the living sea between them. His Charge tugs at his bones. Soon, he tells himself. And he weaves intricate signs into the air, pretends that the spattered dye on the canopy above is a spell scattering itself amongst the leaves. But it's something even better, isn't it?
He drifts to sleep. Mossy starlight paints his side as a new constellation as, in the night of the jungle, life paints itself a new sky.
-----
[center][url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=637448]
[img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/6375/637448_350.png[/img]
[/url][/center]
[size=5]Lantern Light[/size]
-----
The evening wind sends a current through the prairie-grass, and Quince pats the lantern at his side. It is sturdy, and warm, and safely glowing. The sky hangs low above. Out here in the Wilds, lantern-light alone holds the night at bay; the stars flood the void between the trees. There is a familiar plant that blossoms in starlight, and Quince stoops to harvest its leaves. Wreathed in musky smoke, he wanders on, out past the ironbough, out past the turf-houses where the little porch lanterns glow. As the stars wheel onward to meet him, the first lantern dies at his back. Night falls quickly in these parts. He passes the barrier-fence and the last cottage, turns from the well-worn path. No sign of pursuit--he is alone here, at the threshold of the Wilds, and passes its eaves with a grimace and nod.
-----
[size=2]His eyes are no use in the dense undergrowth. He closes them and breathes deeply, lets his head swing slowly north and east. The clinging smoke will hide him from noses less clever than his own, and as for those things that hunt elsewise...well, they are wise in their way. There is something in a small and solitary dragon that inspires a peculiar sort of fear. And he is old, too, beyond even his own reckoning. There is not much left in these jungles to surprise him. He walks with quiet confidence. The trail is shrouded but the way is easy, passed enough times, and his oily fur foils barbs and thorns. Even so far from the Tidelord's domain, his gifts find a use. He feels ancient streams thrumming through roots beneath him. There is a melody to it, if you listen long enough. But he has a task before him and cannot delay.
It is hard to know how long he wandered. Twice he stopped to sprinkle the musky leaves into his lantern. Twice, too, he stooped to drink from fresh streams. But the moon and stars were hidden by thick canopy, and time less than decades was of little enough concern. Eventually, though, his footfalls slow. From the pack slung at his waist, he draws a curious contraption. Old though he is, there are some plants that still raise in him a wary respect.
Back in his den, he studies the flower. It is a fragile thing, not long to bloom. And bright, impossibly bright for a thing grown in shadow. It has few enough names, few enough uses, and he knows all of them. And he worries. There are...responsibilities that come with age, especially in a profession where so many die young. But he has done his part. With practiced but somehow unsteady paws, he binds his little parcel. Soon it is behind him, in a little hollow stump, marked by a little lantern. The sweet and musky smoke still hangs in the air. Even still, his nose perks at the smell of an unknown dragon. He has to stop himself from calling out, inviting them to tea. It would not be appropriate. Behind him, the lantern is extinguished, and the smell is carried away by the forgiving winds of night.
Clan Bios, Newest at Top
Perpetual state of rewrite. The "good bits" are picked out in larger font. If you ever see a bolded section, you'll know I got tired of a given passage and am planning to replace it.
Glow-worm
A lone dragon perches at the threshold of the Wilds. Their claws weave intricate signs into the air, gestures half-hidden in the dusk of the deep jungle. Fulgurum watches with mild interest. The commonness of mages, druids all in this deep bower, robs the dance of some importance. And yet. There is something irresistable about the mage's drifting motions, soft and delicate as seed-tufts on the wind.
Light blazes out.
Fulgurum surges to his feet, claws scoring the turf beneath him. The mage turns to him with alarm. He grins, gestures to glistening knives that line his jaw. As he joins the mage under the jungle eaves, shadows part and flow around his glowing smile. Its soft blue phosphorescence bathes them both. The mage raises her claws and begins to weave a ward.
"No, it's okay! It's alright! See, I work with light too! Except I'm rubbish at magic, right, so I breed mosses. There's this dye I'm working on, nontoxic, got some in my mouth right now actually, it really-"
The mage interrupts. "That's, ah, very nice. I'm sorry, are you a guard? You see, I'm both cleared and equipped to be here, so , you know, no need to worry. Thank you though."
Fulgurum's jackal grin grows a bit strained. "Hah! Yeah, no worries! I'm actually something of a guide. If you're going into the deep jungle, I could escort you? I mean, light magic is sort of an interest of mine, you see my Charge is apparently somewhere in there and the dark-"
The mage nods politely enough. She thanks him graciously, comments on how interesting his work sounds. Unfortunately, you know how it is, research to be done, can't delay, best be heading back to examine these samples. Ta-ta! Thanks again!
The glowing grin vanishes.
Fulgurum sighs, pushes into the undergrowth with a bit more force than necessary. The trail is well-hidden, and why wouldn't it be? He is a guide, after all. He'd gone deeper than nearly anyone in the lair, hadn't he? But his Charge was deeper yet, ever deeper, ever further into the pathless darkness that had swallowed a hundred dragons older and wiser. He clears the edge of the trail and enters his little glade. He thumps gracelessly to the ground and rolls onto his back. His eyes turn to the canopy...
Above, his galaxy of blue pinpricks, sparkling and twinkling like a living thing, the gentle puffs of his breath stirring the false stars to frenzy. And they dance and glimmer and fade, and the mosses on the trees bear them up on shimmering pillars of sky.
...and he raises his claws up, frames the living sea between them. His Charge tugs at his bones. Soon, he tells himself. And he weaves intricate signs into the air, pretends that the spattered dye on the canopy above is a spell scattering itself amongst the leaves. But it's something even better, isn't it?
He drifts to sleep. Mossy starlight paints his side as a new constellation as, in the night of the jungle, life paints itself a new sky.
Lantern Light
The evening wind sends a current through the prairie-grass, and Quince pats the lantern at his side. It is sturdy, and warm, and safely glowing. The sky hangs low above. Out here in the Wilds, lantern-light alone holds the night at bay; the stars flood the void between the trees. There is a familiar plant that blossoms in starlight, and Quince stoops to harvest its leaves. Wreathed in musky smoke, he wanders on, out past the ironbough, out past the turf-houses where the little porch lanterns glow. As the stars wheel onward to meet him, the first lantern dies at his back. Night falls quickly in these parts. He passes the barrier-fence and the last cottage, turns from the well-worn path. No sign of pursuit--he is alone here, at the threshold of the Wilds, and passes its eaves with a grimace and nod.
His eyes are no use in the dense undergrowth. He closes them and breathes deeply, lets his head swing slowly north and east. The clinging smoke will hide him from noses less clever than his own, and as for those things that hunt elsewise...well, they are wise in their way. There is something in a small and solitary dragon that inspires a peculiar sort of fear. And he is old, too, beyond even his own reckoning. There is not much left in these jungles to surprise him. He walks with quiet confidence. The trail is shrouded but the way is easy, passed enough times, and his oily fur foils barbs and thorns. Even so far from the Tidelord's domain, his gifts find a use. He feels ancient streams thrumming through roots beneath him. There is a melody to it, if you listen long enough. But he has a task before him and cannot delay.
It is hard to know how long he wandered. Twice he stopped to sprinkle the musky leaves into his lantern. Twice, too, he stooped to drink from fresh streams. But the moon and stars were hidden by thick canopy, and time less than decades was of little enough concern. Eventually, though, his footfalls slow. From the pack slung at his waist, he draws a curious contraption. Old though he is, there are some plants that still raise in him a wary respect.
Back in his den, he studies the flower. It is a fragile thing, not long to bloom. And bright, impossibly bright for a thing grown in shadow. It has few enough names, few enough uses, and he knows all of them. And he worries. There are...responsibilities that come with age, especially in a profession where so many die young. But he has done his part. With practiced but somehow unsteady paws, he binds his little parcel. Soon it is behind him, in a little hollow stump, marked by a little lantern. The sweet and musky smoke still hangs in the air. Even still, his nose perks at the smell of an unknown dragon. He has to stop himself from calling out, inviting them to tea. It would not be appropriate. Behind him, the lantern is extinguished, and the smell is carried away by the forgiving winds of night.
[center][size=6][font=futura]Free Samples, Oldest at Bottom[/font][/size][/center]
[center][font=futura]If you don't want yours up here, just let me know! Ellipses used to denote the missing text before and after each snippet as (to save your time and mine) I only write the juiciest bits in an imagined scene.
While I'm sure this doesn't need said, please don't use anything written for other folks. Just ask for one![/font][/center]
[quote=Aeroden's Geser]
...licks his talon. Still too bland. He rifles through the herb collection, filling the air with sweet musk. Cinnamon for fortune and harpy-root for strength. Nursery rhymes and botanical treatises are driftwood on the tides of his mind; he lets them guide his claws. Let the old masters do the cooking...
...into his guest's bowl. She murmurs her thanks, still fiddling with latches on her little scroll case. He cranes his neck to meet her eye.
"There are other, larger archives. Why my personal collection?"
"It's...well, it's a sensitive matter. We'd prefer to keep it local."
"Seems like a dangerous precedent for me to set. These are old scrolls, girl. I can't have hatchlings rustling around with-"
His mate interrupts from the next room. "Ach, love, he's just giving you a hard time. We've got spare copies and he knows it."
Geser chuckles softly, raises his claws in mock surrender. "So we do, so we do. It's yours to keep, girl. Just don't make a habit of this. Alright?"...[/quote]
[quote=CayCay's Reason]
...chimes from some far-off place. He raises his claws above the candle and squeezes another drop into the flame. Three powers in one blood, mixing, mingling, [i]warring[/i]. He sees frozen shadows on a pink field, or perhaps black ice carved with glowing runes. Dripping, glistening masses drift like snow in the thorny bower. The corners of his vision are crowded by magenta lightning. He can hardly breathe this foul and alien air, but each gasp brings him new wonders. Just a little further...
...worry in his eyes. Reason pats him again, searching for some clue. Rhyme's return is slow, reluctant. His eyes focus on a beloved face.
"It was incredible," he gasps.
Reason sighs and rubs his temples. Tells him that he needs to stop messing with this...stuff, this old magic, [i]whatever this is.[/i] Rhyme just smiles his too-wide smile. So Reason leaves with a parting shot, half spitting and half begging.
"I need you here."
The smile flickers and is extinguished.[/quote]
[quote=SuperNinjaDragon's NightStalker]
...rushing blood in his ears. The sensation is unusual, unwelcome. He lowers his head and fumbles with the parcel. As the feeling passes, he glances back up. [i]She's still watching[/i]. There is something unsettling about her, something that sets his innards burning with frozen fire. His whole body tenses, muscles rippling, slender tail lashing the air. She leans in closer, and he wants to thank her for it...
...affixes the little medal to his torso. Her claw lingers a moment on the curve of his collarbone, he feels it tracing its outer edge. The blood-sound is back, accompanied by the flutter of a frightened heart. Is it his? What an awful, awful thought. He wants to tell her about it. Sweet Arcanist, he wants to tell her [i]everything[/i]...[/quote]
[quote=xXSenpaiXx's Unnamed (Seonus)]
...wax onto the altar. Ribbons of incense-smoke writhe above him. He stirs the air with his tail, sculpting the billows into waves. [i]Tidelord, hear me![/i] Seonus watches with hungry eyes. The bowl of salt water remain as still as ever, the gilded seashells make no sound...
...hours later he hears of the signs. Crows wheeling in from the Tangled Woods. His voice heard on the winds amidst shrieking cackles. A wayward priest is just a punchline to Her, and the archaic obscenities he hurls Her way are met with laughter in his soul... [/quote]
[quote=Salticidea's Eupoa]
...until it stops struggling. Eupoa flicks the protective caps from her claws. She curls and flexes, listening for the soft whoosh of wind on a well-honed blade. Knives are such indelicate tools...
...each incision slicing more deeply into delicate flesh. One perfect line across the throat. One down the middle, more openening the ribs like pale wings. A few down the limbs expose the gamy meat within, and allow her easy access to the tendons. She chews one thoughtfully as she works...
...vultures disappointed, as always. Eupoa inspects her wings for spurts of gore and finds them clean as ever. With a nod to the bare bones behind her, she bears the parcel skywards. [/quote]
[quote=Ximena's Cyliris]
...talon across his wing and shudders. [i]How unnatural,[/i] he thinks, [i]to feel wind against naked wing[/i]. There is no softness in these limbs, no elegance. They're nothing more than leathery flaps shaped to beat the air into submission. A harpy prince ought commune with the winds, slip between the zephyrs like a lover between sheets....
...signals the all-clear. As she settles besides him, he fights the urge to tousle and preen. He is still a prince. Such a comforting, friendly gesture would be...unbecoming. Still, as she delivers the news of his distant clan, he feels a tightness in his chest. When she informs him that the way's become dangerous, that her visits will grow rarer, he simply thanks her for her loyal service. She is well over the horizon before he breaks down and sobs. [/quote]
[quote=Kookabura's Fishbelly]
...he hangs his head over the forest of papers that's swallowed his desk. Careful swipes clear away the worst offenders, and he pares it down to a few possibilities. The golem settles on his shoulder and waits. Soon, the air is filled with scratching and ink-scent, and the pile of crumpled parchment is raided to double- and triple-check the figures on the page....
...all said, it required no more than three adjustments. As the final dose of supplement sluices into the feed-line, Fishbelly allows himself a moment of quiet pride. His clanmates may not recognize the frailty of their surroundings, but that's hardly an issue. If anything, it's a quiet endorsement of his ability. [i]Of course we don't need to worry[/i], they'd say. [i]We have Fishbelly watching over it[/i]. Of course they'd say that. Of course.[/quote]
Free Samples, Oldest at Bottom
If you don't want yours up here, just let me know! Ellipses used to denote the missing text before and after each snippet as (to save your time and mine) I only write the juiciest bits in an imagined scene.
While I'm sure this doesn't need said, please don't use anything written for other folks. Just ask for one!
Aeroden's Geser wrote:
...licks his talon. Still too bland. He rifles through the herb collection, filling the air with sweet musk. Cinnamon for fortune and harpy-root for strength. Nursery rhymes and botanical treatises are driftwood on the tides of his mind; he lets them guide his claws. Let the old masters do the cooking...
...into his guest's bowl. She murmurs her thanks, still fiddling with latches on her little scroll case. He cranes his neck to meet her eye.
"There are other, larger archives. Why my personal collection?"
"It's...well, it's a sensitive matter. We'd prefer to keep it local."
"Seems like a dangerous precedent for me to set. These are old scrolls, girl. I can't have hatchlings rustling around with-"
His mate interrupts from the next room. "Ach, love, he's just giving you a hard time. We've got spare copies and he knows it."
Geser chuckles softly, raises his claws in mock surrender. "So we do, so we do. It's yours to keep, girl. Just don't make a habit of this. Alright?"...
CayCay's Reason wrote:
...chimes from some far-off place. He raises his claws above the candle and squeezes another drop into the flame. Three powers in one blood, mixing, mingling, warring. He sees frozen shadows on a pink field, or perhaps black ice carved with glowing runes. Dripping, glistening masses drift like snow in the thorny bower. The corners of his vision are crowded by magenta lightning. He can hardly breathe this foul and alien air, but each gasp brings him new wonders. Just a little further...
...worry in his eyes. Reason pats him again, searching for some clue. Rhyme's return is slow, reluctant. His eyes focus on a beloved face.
"It was incredible," he gasps.
Reason sighs and rubs his temples. Tells him that he needs to stop messing with this...stuff, this old magic, whatever this is. Rhyme just smiles his too-wide smile. So Reason leaves with a parting shot, half spitting and half begging.
"I need you here."
The smile flickers and is extinguished.
SuperNinjaDragon's NightStalker wrote:
...rushing blood in his ears. The sensation is unusual, unwelcome. He lowers his head and fumbles with the parcel. As the feeling passes, he glances back up. She's still watching. There is something unsettling about her, something that sets his innards burning with frozen fire. His whole body tenses, muscles rippling, slender tail lashing the air. She leans in closer, and he wants to thank her for it...
...affixes the little medal to his torso. Her claw lingers a moment on the curve of his collarbone, he feels it tracing its outer edge. The blood-sound is back, accompanied by the flutter of a frightened heart. Is it his? What an awful, awful thought. He wants to tell her about it. Sweet Arcanist, he wants to tell her everything...
xXSenpaiXx's Unnamed (Seonus) wrote:
...wax onto the altar. Ribbons of incense-smoke writhe above him. He stirs the air with his tail, sculpting the billows into waves. Tidelord, hear me! Seonus watches with hungry eyes. The bowl of salt water remain as still as ever, the gilded seashells make no sound...
...hours later he hears of the signs. Crows wheeling in from the Tangled Woods. His voice heard on the winds amidst shrieking cackles. A wayward priest is just a punchline to Her, and the archaic obscenities he hurls Her way are met with laughter in his soul...
Salticidea's Eupoa wrote:
...until it stops struggling. Eupoa flicks the protective caps from her claws. She curls and flexes, listening for the soft whoosh of wind on a well-honed blade. Knives are such indelicate tools...
...each incision slicing more deeply into delicate flesh. One perfect line across the throat. One down the middle, more openening the ribs like pale wings. A few down the limbs expose the gamy meat within, and allow her easy access to the tendons. She chews one thoughtfully as she works...
...vultures disappointed, as always. Eupoa inspects her wings for spurts of gore and finds them clean as ever. With a nod to the bare bones behind her, she bears the parcel skywards.
Ximena's Cyliris wrote:
...talon across his wing and shudders. How unnatural, he thinks, to feel wind against naked wing. There is no softness in these limbs, no elegance. They're nothing more than leathery flaps shaped to beat the air into submission. A harpy prince ought commune with the winds, slip between the zephyrs like a lover between sheets....
...signals the all-clear. As she settles besides him, he fights the urge to tousle and preen. He is still a prince. Such a comforting, friendly gesture would be...unbecoming. Still, as she delivers the news of his distant clan, he feels a tightness in his chest. When she informs him that the way's become dangerous, that her visits will grow rarer, he simply thanks her for her loyal service. She is well over the horizon before he breaks down and sobs.
Kookabura's Fishbelly wrote:
...he hangs his head over the forest of papers that's swallowed his desk. Careful swipes clear away the worst offenders, and he pares it down to a few possibilities. The golem settles on his shoulder and waits. Soon, the air is filled with scratching and ink-scent, and the pile of crumpled parchment is raided to double- and triple-check the figures on the page....
...all said, it required no more than three adjustments. As the final dose of supplement sluices into the feed-line, Fishbelly allows himself a moment of quiet pride. His clanmates may not recognize the frailty of their surroundings, but that's hardly an issue. If anything, it's a quiet endorsement of his ability. Of course we don't need to worry, they'd say. We have Fishbelly watching over it. Of course they'd say that. Of course.
Hi ora, long time no see! can i have your help with this fellow?
[url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=4140810]
[img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/41409/4140810_350.png[/img]
[/url]
he has basics in his profile, but nothing concrete :/
Hi ora, long time no see! can i have your help with this fellow?
he has basics in his profile, but nothing concrete :/
@
Kookaburra Yeah, I kinda vanished for a bit there, whoops. How ya been?
Still working out a process for this, for now I just came up with a sketch and avoided writing bits that seemed not to fit the purpose (ex: etablishing a setting, which you'd know better than I).
...he hangs his head over the forest of papers that's swallowed his desk. Careful swipes clear away the worst offenders, and he pares it down to a few possibilities. The golem settles on his shoulder and waits. Soon, the air is filled with scratching and ink-scent, and the pile of crumpled parchment is raided to double- and triple-check the figures on the page....
...all said, it required no more than three adjustments. As the final dose of supplement sluices into the feed-line, Fishbelly allows himself a moment of quiet pride. His clanmates may not recognize the frailty of their surroundings, but that's hardly an issue. If anything, it's a quiet endorsement of his ability.
Of course we don't need to worry, they'd say.
We have Fishbelly watching over it. Of course they'd say that. Of course.
@
Kookaburra Yeah, I kinda vanished for a bit there, whoops. How ya been?
Still working out a process for this, for now I just came up with a sketch and avoided writing bits that seemed not to fit the purpose (ex: etablishing a setting, which you'd know better than I).
...he hangs his head over the forest of papers that's swallowed his desk. Careful swipes clear away the worst offenders, and he pares it down to a few possibilities. The golem settles on his shoulder and waits. Soon, the air is filled with scratching and ink-scent, and the pile of crumpled parchment is raided to double- and triple-check the figures on the page....
...all said, it required no more than three adjustments. As the final dose of supplement sluices into the feed-line, Fishbelly allows himself a moment of quiet pride. His clanmates may not recognize the frailty of their surroundings, but that's hardly an issue. If anything, it's a quiet endorsement of his ability.
Of course we don't need to worry, they'd say.
We have Fishbelly watching over it. Of course they'd say that. Of course.
@
Oranitha i vanished too, both off MC and FR haha... real life is not as much fun as the gaming world :c and thank you! that gives me a much more concrete idea of his character, it goes right into his bio. how've you been? (we can move to a different method of communication if you don't want to clog up your thread!)
@
Oranitha i vanished too, both off MC and FR haha... real life is not as much fun as the gaming world :c and thank you! that gives me a much more concrete idea of his character, it goes right into his bio. how've you been? (we can move to a different method of communication if you don't want to clog up your thread!)
@Oranitha
Your writing really good!
Can you help me with Cyliris?
[url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=31926117]
[img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/319262/31926117_350.png[/img]
[/url]
There's a few ideas in his bio, but other than that, I'm a bit stumped on what else could fit with him.
@
Oranitha
Your writing really good!
Can you help me with Cyliris?
There's a few ideas in his bio, but other than that, I'm a bit stumped on what else could fit with him.
@Oranitha
oh man, i love ur narrative voice! present tense always has such a comfortable feel to me, and the d&d angle gives it a nice cadence.
could i ask for a sketch of either eupoa or hisuka?
[url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=19409875]
[img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/avatars/194099/19409875.png[/img]
[url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=2377283]
[img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/avatars/23773/2377283.png[/img]
[/url]
[/url]
@
Oranitha
oh man, i love ur narrative voice! present tense always has such a comfortable feel to me, and the d&d angle gives it a nice cadence.
could i ask for a sketch of either eupoa or hisuka?
@
Kookaburra Pretty good, pretty good! Prepping to move across the country, actually. Thankfully I'm in a bit of a quiet patch right now. What about you, how've you been? (And thanks for offering, but I'm not too worried about the thread...I figure people don't casually peruse the writing ones too often ;) )
@
Ximena
...talon across his wing and shudders.
How unnatural, he thinks,
to feel wind against naked wing. There is no softness in these limbs, no elegance. They're nothing more than leathery flaps shaped to beat the air into submission. A harpy prince ought commune with the winds, slip between the zephyrs like a lover between sheets....
...signals the all-clear. As she settles besides him, he fights the urge to tousle and preen. He is still a prince. Such a comforting, friendly gesture would be...unbecoming. Still, as she delivers the news of his distant clan, he feels a tightness in his chest. When she informs him that the way's become dangerous, that her visits will grow rarer, he simply thanks her for her loyal service. She is well over the horizon before he breaks down and sobs.
@
Kookaburra Pretty good, pretty good! Prepping to move across the country, actually. Thankfully I'm in a bit of a quiet patch right now. What about you, how've you been? (And thanks for offering, but I'm not too worried about the thread...I figure people don't casually peruse the writing ones too often ;) )
@
Ximena
...talon across his wing and shudders.
How unnatural, he thinks,
to feel wind against naked wing. There is no softness in these limbs, no elegance. They're nothing more than leathery flaps shaped to beat the air into submission. A harpy prince ought commune with the winds, slip between the zephyrs like a lover between sheets....
...signals the all-clear. As she settles besides him, he fights the urge to tousle and preen. He is still a prince. Such a comforting, friendly gesture would be...unbecoming. Still, as she delivers the news of his distant clan, he feels a tightness in his chest. When she informs him that the way's become dangerous, that her visits will grow rarer, he simply thanks her for her loyal service. She is well over the horizon before he breaks down and sobs.
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Could you help me with him? I can't even come up with a name.... -_- his mate is the only imp in my third row if you need any other help @Oranitha
Could you help me with him? I can't even come up with a name.... -_- his mate is the only imp in my third row if you need any other help @
Oranitha
