55380 réponses à ce sujet

[catabuca]

Blessed Silence wrote...

elirian_19 wrote...

aimo_ahmed wrote...


5 of 6

Moar pls?

Aaaah!

Will this torture never end?!?! <_<

It'll never end. It'll be like that youtube video of demo gameplay that went 1 of 2, 2 of 2, 3 of 5, 4 of 5, 5 of 20 ... and so on.

[ThatGirl]

So I just became aware that I missed the prompts for last week, booo...but I thought I'd post this anyway since I finished it.  Feedback is greatly appreciated, especially from such a pool of talented people   The prompt was TOAST.

It's a bit long, so in case this format hurts thine eyeballs, you can find it here too...if it pleases you.
 
______________________________________________________________________


          Her father had always said that pride led to arrogance, and arrogance in turn led to making costly mistakes.  One of the few anecdotes of his that she remembered, and wished heartily she could impress upon him how vitally it had  changed her life.

               Hawke was prideful of very few things.  Her agility and deadly accuracy with a cruel,curved blade was one, a talent borne from tiring months of sweat and blood.  Her ability to quickly and quietly asses danger was another.  In fact, many of her points of pride had been earned, not gifted, and thus she felt entirely justified in the quiet pride she took in them. 

             All except for one.

            Her hair had always been one, perhaps theonly, physical feature she possessed that was a point of true vanity.  It was a beautiful color, deep auburn like her father’s and waving like her mother’s; days of working in the bright Ferelden sun had bleached many of the strands to a tawny gold, giving the long, luxurious locks a healthy sheen in the firelight.  It was soft as well, so soft that as an infant Carver had sat in her lap and been entertained for hours, chubby baby fingers wrapped around the fat curls as her mother brushed and plaited the delicate strands.  As years passed and he’d grown older and taller than she, he would still ruffle her bangs when he wanted to rankle her, the dual annoyance and affection it bred in her bringing him comfort. 

       Her mother’s words rang in her ears.  ‘How could you just let him charge off like that?  Your little brother!’

         After they buried his body, she took Carver’s own sword and cut it at her ears.  She felt no profound sense of loss as the heavy auburn plaits fell to the ground with a dull thump.  She felt nothing.  Only emptiness.

             Four years to that day had passed since Carver’s death.  Her hair had now grown long enough to hang about her shoulders, but she merely pinned it up each day, having no desire to be reminded how long it had once been, or of the memories that clung to its lengths.

           A soft rap on the door roused her from her thoughts.  She looked and saw a familiar silver-haired, pointy-eared figure leaning against the doorframe. 

        “Fenris,” she murmured.  “Is something wrong?”

          “No.   Your sister requested someone bring you this.”  The dryness in his voice suggested that Bethany had tackled the first person to pass by the scullery, and he had been unfortunate enough to be said individual. The worn pewter plate in his gloved hands held two pieces of toasted white bread.   “She seems to think you intend to starve yourself  today.”   Fenris set the plate down on the table in front of her. 

            “She worries too much.  Thank you.”

            Silence fell.  She assumed he had left, but then she heard the heavy scuffle of a chair being dragged across the floor.  Fenris sat down on the other side of the room, sharp eyes watching her shrewdly.

            “Is it true?” he asked in his soft voice.  “Are you not going to eat?”

            She looked at him, mildly taken aback.  “I am not hungry.”

            “Not hungry for solids,  perhaps.  What lies in that goblet ofyours?”  He eyed her stone cup, and her
fingers tightened about it protectively.

            “What difference does it make?”

            He did not answer immediately.  “I am not a pest, nor would I ever wish to make myself such,” he said slowly.  “However, you seem quite…troubled today.”

            Ah. He had finally noticed.  Varric, Aveline, Anders—others who had been with her longer knew the significance of this day.  When the grief had still been fresh, she had taken the day to wonder the streets of Kirkwall by herself, from the slums of Lowtown to the marble paths of Hightown, flooding her senses with the various sights and sounds of the city in attempts to keep darker thoughts at bay.  When this proved ineffective,
she simply failed to come out of her room.   For a woman so constantly and deeply entwined in the goings-on of a port city such as Kirkwall, one simple day of self-imposed dark and quiet every year was hardly much to ask for. 

            “I am feeling…unwell today.”

            “Ah. ‘Unwell’.”  He repeated the word dubiously, and then fell silent.  He madeno move to leave.   Hawke sighed.

            “No doubt Varric has told you the tale of how my family and I came to Kirkwall,” she began, her voice heavy.  “I suppose if you’ve supped with him, you’ve had little choice.”

            “Indeed,” he replied dryly.

            “Then you know that there were four of us the day we fled Lothering.”

            “Yes.”

            She shook her head.  Of course he knew.  When did the man miss anything?

            “Our house was ablaze as we left the town from the south—my mother, my sister, my brother and I.  There were small pockets of darkspawn that had wondered away from the horde and hindered us.  They were little trouble.  We decided to try for Kirkwall, heading to Gwaren to take ship.  Then, of course, the ogre…”

            She heard her voice crack, and cursed herself for it, but the words would not stop flowing.  She had not spoken of Carver since…she had not ever spoken of it.  Not to her sister, whose kind, round face fell into shadow when her twin’s name was uttered, nor to her mother, whose silent, bitter eyes blamed her eldest daughter for the
death of her only son.  

“I watched my brother die,” she said hollowly.  With the memories the emptiness came again in a rush, enveloping her like a numbing mist.  Such a comfort, in a way.  “Carver was no doubt the strongest, but I was
the quickest.  I was just a second to slow, only a moment, and his blood painted the ground at my feet.”

            She took another sip of the poison that lay in her stone cup, her face still.

           “My carelessness cost my mother her only son, my sister and I are only brother, and that only brother his life.”

             Fenris said nothing, merely watched her.  Interesting, what courage liquor gave her—those cold eyes usually had her squirming on the inside, so still, so disparaging; naturally as a leader, she could not let it faze her, and simply steeled her will to stare back.  Now, though, she did not find herself bristling defiantly under his gaze, as per
normal.  His eyes met hers from across the room, and she did not cower.  She did nothing but watch.

            “It seems as though you think this is your fault,” came his deep timbre at length. Their eyes were still locked, but the gaze was tiresome to Hawke, and so she shifted to stare out the window.

            “My recounting of events is true enough.  It certainly sounds as though the fault only lies with one,” she replied, sipping again from her cup.  

            “This memory eats away at you like a poison.   It is easy to see.”  He paused, his long fingers fiddling with a strap hanging off his elaborate leather armor. Unlike him.  “Have you ever considered that it may not have unfolded any other way?  That no matter how quick your reaction, your brother still would have met his demise?”

          This surprised her and she giggled, the liquor making her head feel light.  The foolish laughter was unlike her.  Fenris frowned.

          “Dear Fenris, you surprise me!” she exclaimed.  “I never figured you to be so philosophical.  For one with such a unique past, such a belief in fate seems…unlikely.”

       In an instant, his eyes darkened. 

       “I….” A lengthy pause.  “…At times, one finds it easier to accept atrocities committed against them as…unavoidable.”

        His voice softened to barely above a whisper, so much so she had to strain to hear.

          “There is a freedom in fate, in a way.  A hope that perhaps everything done to you will, in the end, have been for a higher purpose, a greater good, and not simply the result of senseless acts of depravity borne of power hungry individuals.”

         Hawke paused her cup midway to her  lips. 

         Fenris’ eyes became focused again, their usual wintry dullness returning as he rose to leave.  “I was merely attempt to show that what  happened may not have been as much your fault as you think.  Forgive me if my efforts fall short of the mark.” 

         His voice was as frosty as winter’s breath, his words steel-like.  Hawke set her cup down, suddenly feeling sheepish and ashamed.  She had hurt him.  Her wallowing and self-pity had spawned careless words, and spurned the elf when he had been sharing his innermost thoughts, only trying to help.

       “Wait, Fenris."

         He stopped at the doorway, but did  not look at her.


          “Come here.  Please.”    She added the last word hastily, fearing he would figure her request a
command and abandon her to her self-hatred.   He complied, to her surprise, stopping in front of her chair.

            “Yes?”

            His eyes seared into hers with an intensity that even the liquor could not blunt, but the feel of the gaze was one she was not used to.  For an instant, much of the cold and steel and stoicism had vanished, and he merely looked concerned.  Concerned, and a little afraid.  The change was so marked that for a moment it struck her dumb, and she simply stared at him.

            In a flash, however, the gentle  moment was gone.   His eyes looked the same as always, and his lip began to curl in annoyance, so quickly that Hawke wondered if she had imagined it.

            “Did you call me back for a reason?” he asked acerbically.

          “Of course.  I…I am sorry I spoke out of turn.”  She gave a courteous nod to underscore her thanks.  “You so rarely share your council, and I am grateful to have it.  My apologies."

         He stared at her a moment more, fingering the hilt of his monstrous greatsword.  “Apology accepted.  And you are welcome.” 

         And then he left.

            Hawke sat back in her chair, reaching again for her cup and releasing a breath that had been pent up since his arrival.  She felt her cheeks glowing bright and told herself firmly that it was a result of the liquor, helping herself to another sip. The toasted bread sat untouched on the table.

            His eyes were green.  She had never noticed before.

___________________________________

Tried to fix it...hope that helped. 

Modifié par ThatGirl, 25 février 2011 - 10:04 .

[ThatGirl]

Wow...that looks awful. Total fail for newbie forum girl

[plumededragop]

Well, there're more people thinking that Fenris is the bi option, but I won't get my hopes up until I see official proof... and it may come soon after the game is out in the US&Canada.

[solstickan]

ThatGirl, try clicking on BBCode when you copy-paste the text.

[Phoenix_Valkyre]

starfire1188 wrote...

Ramante wrote...

starfire1188 wrote...

So.... I don't know if I did this correctly,  but after reading all of your prompts, I had to contribute. I hope I'm not to late for the Smile prompt!
...Sorry if it's too much. I had to edit out some stuff, too, before I felt it was.... decent enough to post.

EDIT: Well, that was almost an epic fail. I copied and pasted from word!
EDIT again: I suck at this.

Prompt: Smile
-snip-

Oh my God! I loved it.

To all who respond to the prompts, please keep writing. I really like reading all your little stories. =3

Good!!
Thanks for being the only one to respond to it... hehe.

@ starfire 1188 I apologize, so much to catch up on... WOW so spicy, all I can say is I'm definitely ready to pounce Fenris! Very HOT !! Thank you!!!

[Plootion]

ThatGirl wrote...

Wow...that looks awful. Total fail for newbie forum girl

Nonsense, it was fantastic! :happy: Very nice work, doll.

[stephen1493]

*

Modifié par stephen1493, 25 février 2011 - 10:03 .

[stephen1493]

stephen1493 wrote...

Wynne wrote...

stephen1493 wrote...

k, umm... to anyone who care's my pics have there own album now.

The most recent one would definitly be the one with my hand behind my head.

Aww, you're adorable! But you're not shirtless, so the swimmer's body thing is still unproven. Get me one of those pictures, and all I'll have to do is yell, "HEY GIRLS! LOOK AT THE CUTE SHIRTLESS SINGLE GUY WHO LIKES DRAGON AGE! HE SORTA LOOKS A LITTLE LIKE A HUMAN FENRIS WITH DARK HAIR!" Then they'll swarm you like piranhas on a fallen wildebeest. Actually, I probably shouldn't have written that so loud--they're on the move right now. I recommend running as fast as you can and praying to God that you don't trip. 

On a more serious note (well... a serious at all note) that was a really nice snippet you wrote about Lothering. Beautiful, actually.

Like three different people were asking me to put up pics of myself so I figured why not. Unforunatly, I  have a few misgivings about putting up half-naked pics of myself on the internet.

I never thought that I looked anything like Fenris, but if you feel like spreading that around, I won't stop you.

Anyways, thanks for what you said about my story. I'm really humbeled over how many of the Fenris fans liked it.

Modifié par stephen1493, 25 février 2011 - 10:04 .

[TheDarkestSpawn]

Akako13shi wrote...

I have returned... i miss anything important... or unimportant... or fenris related

A whole lot of fanfiction.

That Stephen guy wrote an amazing prompt for Lothering back on 896.

[Phoenix_Valkyre]

ThatGirl wrote...

Wow...that looks awful. Total fail for newbie forum girl

No way, that was fabulous!! Thank you for sharing hun!!

*hopes there's more to come*

[stephen1493]

TheDarkestSpawn wrote...

Akako13shi wrote...

I have returned... i miss anything important... or unimportant... or fenris related

A whole lot of fanfiction.

That Stephen guy wrote an amazing prompt for Lothering back on 896.

This is just getting silly.

*puts fingers in ears and walks away*

[Phoenix_Valkyre]

stephen1493 wrote...

stephen1493 wrote...

Wynne wrote...

stephen1493 wrote...

k, umm... to anyone who care's my pics have there own album now.

The most recent one would definitly be the one with my hand behind my head.

Aww, you're adorable! But you're not shirtless, so the swimmer's body thing is still unproven. Get me one of those pictures, and all I'll have to do is yell, "HEY GIRLS! LOOK AT THE CUTE SHIRTLESS SINGLE GUY WHO LIKES DRAGON AGE! HE SORTA LOOKS A LITTLE LIKE A HUMAN FENRIS WITH DARK HAIR!" Then they'll swarm you like piranhas on a fallen wildebeest. Actually, I probably shouldn't have written that so loud--they're on the move right now. I recommend running as fast as you can and praying to God that you don't trip. 

On a more serious note (well... a serious at all note) that was a really nice snippet you wrote about Lothering. Beautiful, actually.

Like three different people were asking me to put up pics of myself so I figured why not. Unforunatly, I  have a few misgivings about putting up half-naked pics of myself on the internet.

I never thought that I looked anything like Fenris, but if you feel like spreading that around, I won't stop you.

Anyways, thanks for what you said about my story. I'm really humbeled over how many of the Fenris fans liked it.

 @ stephen1493 As mentioned prior, Prepare for bombardment of Fenfan girls!! Also, how is the prompt going??? Do we get to see it soon!!!!!! PLease!!!! *bats eyelashes*

Modifié par Phoenix_Valkyre, 25 février 2011 - 10:09 .

[ThatGirl]

Thanks for the advice Solstican, I'll remember that   And thank you, Plootion.  All the art and fics here serve as great inspiration!  Gobbling it up!  *gobble gobble*  Can't wait for the game.

[tankgirly]

@stephen, silly? How so? Your writing is fantastic!

[Madame Rose Crimsynn]

*Browses what I've missed* *Attempts to not have a nosebleed and ruin the cocoon again* Oh... wow... I love it all!

stephen1493 wrote...

TheDarkestSpawn wrote...

Akako13shi wrote...

I have returned... i miss anything important... or unimportant... or fenris related

A whole lot of fanfiction.

That Stephen guy wrote an amazing prompt for Lothering back on 896.

This is just getting silly.

*puts fingers in ears and walks away*

[Cassandra] Bull****! [/Cassandra] 'Tis wonderful n' awesome and you deserve it!

[stephen1493]

ThatGirl wrote...

So I just became aware that I missed the prompts for last week, booo...but I thought I'd post this anyway since I finished it.  Feedback is greatly appreciated, especially from such a pool of talented people   The prompt was TOAST.

It's a bit long, so in case this format hurts thine eyeballs, you can find it here too...if it pleases you.
 
______________________________________________________________________


          Her father had always said that pride led to arrogance, and arrogance in turn led to making costly mistakes.  One of the few anecdotes of his that she remembered, and wished heartily she could impress upon him how vitally it had  changed her life.

               Hawke was prideful of very few things.  Her agility and deadly accuracy with a cruel,curved blade was one, a talent borne from tiring months of sweat and blood.  Her ability to quickly and quietly asses danger was another.  In fact, many of her points of pride had been earned, not gifted, and thus she felt entirely justified in the quiet pride she took in them. 

             All except for one.

            Her hair had always been one, perhaps theonly, physical feature she possessed that was a point of true vanity.  It was a beautiful color, deep auburn like her father’s and waving like her mother’s; days of working in the bright Ferelden sun had bleached many of the strands to a tawny gold, giving the long, luxurious locks a healthy sheen in the firelight.  It was soft as well, so soft that as an infant Carver had sat in her lap and been entertained for hours, chubby baby fingers wrapped around the fat curls as her mother brushed and plaited the delicate strands.  As years passed and he’d grown older and taller than she, he would still ruffle her bangs when he wanted to rankle her, the dual annoyance and affection it bred in her bringing him comfort. 

       Her mother’s words rang in her ears.  ‘How could you just let him charge off like that?  Your little brother!’

         After they buried his body, she took Carver’s own sword and cut it at her ears.  She felt no profound sense of loss as the heavy auburn plaits fell to the ground with a dull thump.  She felt nothing.  Only emptiness.

             Four years to that day had passed since Carver’s death.  Her hair had now grown long enough to hang about her shoulders, but she merely pinned it up each day, having no desire to be reminded how long it had once been, or of the memories that clung to its lengths.

           A soft rap on the door roused her from her thoughts.  She looked and saw a familiar silver-haired, pointy-eared figure leaning against the doorframe. 

        “Fenris,” she murmured.  “Is something wrong?”

          “No.   Your sister requested someone bring you this.”  The dryness in his voice suggested that Bethany had tackled the first person to pass by the scullery, and he had been unfortunate enough to be said individual. The worn pewter plate in his gloved hands held two pieces of toasted white bread.   “She seems to think you intend to starve yourself  today.”   Fenris set the plate down on the table in front of her. 

            “She worries too much.  Thank you.”

            Silence fell.  She assumed he had left, but then she heard the heavy scuffle of a chair being dragged across the floor.  Fenris sat down on the other side of the room, sharp eyes watching her shrewdly.

            “Is it true?” he asked in his soft voice.  “Are you not going to eat?”

            She looked at him, mildly taken aback.  “I am not hungry.”

            “Not hungry for solids,  perhaps.  What lies in that goblet ofyours?”  He eyed her stone cup, and her
fingers tightened about it protectively.

            “What difference does it make?”

            He did not answer immediately.  “I am not a pest, nor would I ever wish to make myself such,” he said slowly.  “However, you seem quite…troubled today.”

            Ah. He had finally noticed.  Varric, Aveline, Anders—others who had been with her longer knew the significance of this day.  When the grief had still been fresh, she had taken the day to wonder the streets of Kirkwall by herself, from the slums of Lowtown to the marble paths of Hightown, flooding her senses with the various sights and sounds of the city in attempts to keep darker thoughts at bay.  When this proved ineffective,
she simply failed to come out of her room.   For a woman so constantly and deeply entwined in the goings-on of a port city such as Kirkwall, one simple day of self-imposed dark and quiet every year was hardly much to ask for. 

            “I am feeling…unwell today.”

            “Ah. ‘Unwell’.”  He repeated the word dubiously, and then fell silent.  He madeno move to leave.   Hawke sighed.

            “No doubt Varric has told you the tale of how my family and I came to Kirkwall,” she began, her voice heavy.  “I suppose if you’ve supped with him, you’ve had little choice.”

            “Indeed,” he replied dryly.

            “Then you know that there were four of us the day we fled Lothering.”

            “Yes.”

            She shook her head.  Of course he knew.  When did the man miss anything?

            “Our house was ablaze as we left the town from the south—my mother, my sister, my brother and I.  There were small pockets of darkspawn that had wondered away from the horde and hindered us.  They were little trouble.  We decided to try for Kirkwall, heading to Gwaren to take ship.  Then, of course, the ogre…”

            She heard her voice crack, and cursed herself for it, but the words would not stop flowing.  She had not spoken of Carver since…she had not ever spoken of it.  Not to her sister, whose kind, round face fell into shadow when her twin’s name was uttered, nor to her mother, whose silent, bitter eyes blamed her eldest daughter for the
death of her only son.  

“I watched my brother die,” she said hollowly.  With the memories the emptiness came again in a rush, enveloping her like a numbing mist.  Such a comfort, in a way.  “Carver was no doubt the strongest, but I was
the quickest.  I was just a second to slow, only a moment, and his blood painted the ground at my feet.”

            She took another sip of the poison that lay in her stone cup, her face still.

           “My carelessness cost my mother her only son, my sister and I are only brother, and that only brother his life.”

             Fenris said nothing, merely watched her.  Interesting, what courage liquor gave her—those cold eyes usually had her squirming on the inside, so still, so disparaging; naturally as a leader, she could not let it faze her, and simply steeled her will to stare back.  Now, though, she did not find herself bristling defiantly under his gaze, as per
normal.  His eyes met hers from across the room, and she did not cower.  She did nothing but watch.

            “It seems as though you think this is your fault,” came his deep timbre at length. Their eyes were still locked, but the gaze was tiresome to Hawke, and so she shifted to stare out the window.

            “My recounting of events is true enough.  It certainly sounds as though the fault only lies with one,” she replied, sipping again from her cup.  

            “This memory eats away at you like a poison.   It is easy to see.”  He paused, his long fingers fiddling with a strap hanging off his elaborate leather armor. Unlike him.  “Have you ever considered that it may not have unfolded any other way?  That no matter how quick your reaction, your brother still would have met his demise?”

          This surprised her and she giggled, the liquor making her head feel light.  The foolish laughter was unlike her.  Fenris frowned.

          “Dear Fenris, you surprise me!” she exclaimed.  “I never figured you to be so philosophical.  For one with such a unique past, such a belief in fate seems…unlikely.”

       In an instant, his eyes darkened. 

       “I….” A lengthy pause.  “…At times, one finds it easier to accept atrocities committed against them as…unavoidable.”

        His voice softened to barely above a whisper, so much so she had to strain to hear.

          “There is a freedom in fate, in a way.  A hope that perhaps everything done to you will, in the end, have been for a higher purpose, a greater good, and not simply the result of senseless acts of depravity borne of power hungry individuals.”

         Hawke paused her cup midway to her  lips. 

         Fenris’ eyes became focused again, their usual wintry dullness returning as he rose to leave.  “I was merely attempt to show that what  happened may not have been as much your fault as you think.  Forgive me if my efforts fall short of the mark.” 

         His voice was as frosty as winter’s breath, his words steel-like.  Hawke set her cup down, suddenly feeling sheepish and ashamed.  She had hurt him.  Her wallowing and self-pity had spawned careless words, and spurned the elf when he had been sharing his innermost thoughts, only trying to help.

       “Wait, Fenris."

         He stopped at the doorway, but did  not look at her.


          “Come here.  Please.”    She added the last word hastily, fearing he would figure her request a
command and abandon her to her self-hatred.   He complied, to her surprise, stopping in front of her chair.

            “Yes?”

            His eyes seared into hers with an intensity that even the liquor could not blunt, but the feel of the gaze was one she was not used to.  For an instant, much of the cold and steel and stoicism had vanished, and he merely looked concerned.  Concerned, and a little afraid.  The change was so marked that for a moment it struck her dumb, and she simply stared at him.

            In a flash, however, the gentle  moment was gone.   His eyes looked the same as always, and his lip began to curl in annoyance, so quickly that Hawke wondered if she had imagined it.

            “Did you call me back for a reason?” he asked acerbically.

          “Of course.  I…I am sorry I spoke out of turn.”  She gave a courteous nod to underscore her thanks.  “You so rarely share your council, and I am grateful to have it.  My apologies."

         He stared at her a moment more, fingering the hilt of his monstrous greatsword.  “Apology accepted.  And you are welcome.” 

         And then he left.

            Hawke sat back in her chair, reaching again for her cup and releasing a breath that had been pent up since his arrival.  She felt her cheeks glowing bright and told herself firmly that it was a result of the liquor, helping herself to another sip. The toasted bread sat untouched on the table.

            His eyes were green.  She had never noticed before.

___________________________________

Tried to fix it...hope that helped. 

Amazing.

I wish my "Hawke explanation of that day" from in my fanfic was anywhere near as good as yours!

[stephen1493]

Madame Rose Crimsynn wrote...

*Browses what I've missed* *Attempts to not have a nosebleed and ruin the cocoon again* Oh... wow... I love it all!

stephen1493 wrote...

TheDarkestSpawn wrote...

Akako13shi wrote...

I have returned... i miss anything important... or unimportant... or fenris related

A whole lot of fanfiction.

That Stephen guy wrote an amazing prompt for Lothering back on 896.

This is just getting silly.

*puts fingers in ears and walks away*

[Cassandra] Bull****! [/Cassandra] 'Tis wonderful n' awesome and you deserve it!

Cookies to you for making me laugh.

@Phoenix I decided to scrap the Magister POV for now. It was more about combat and a "afably" funny bad guy idea from a few pages back. Figured I'd put on hold, once I got a new idea for something to write today.

Modifié par stephen1493, 25 février 2011 - 10:21 .

[Phoenix_Valkyre]

stephen1493 wrote...

Madame Rose Crimsynn wrote...

*Browses what I've missed* *Attempts to not have a nosebleed and ruin the cocoon again* Oh... wow... I love it all!

stephen1493 wrote...

TheDarkestSpawn wrote...

Akako13shi wrote...

I have returned... i miss anything important... or unimportant... or fenris related

A whole lot of fanfiction.

That Stephen guy wrote an amazing prompt for Lothering back on 896.

This is just getting silly.

*puts fingers in ears and walks away*

[Cassandra] Bull****! [/Cassandra] 'Tis wonderful n' awesome and you deserve it!

Cookies to you for making me laugh.

@Phoenix I decided to scrap the Magister POV for now. It was more about combat and a "afably" funny bad guy idea from a few pages back. Figured I'd put on hold, once I got a new idea for something to write today.

@ stephen1493 Well I can't wait to see what you post next! Please don't be a tease like aimo & pseudo! lol.. Let your inner muse inspire you!!

[Jaarlitar]

Here's an old poem of mine that somehow makes me think of Fenromance.


Sunset

I don't care how you see me

As the sun goes down

And darkness crawls onto your skin

Revealing the hidden beauty



Can you feel my breath

On your cheek then

When darkness falls?



Or taste my thirst

From a single touch?



I let my fingers

Feast upon your flesh

Drawing new memories of love

Of misty moonlit nights

And shadows in the corners

Of your smile



From your eyes

I can read the beat

Of your heart

Sketch the outline

Of your soul



Be mine tonight

As light dies out

Let me drown

In your essence

Suffocate on your kiss



Give me a reason

To want to live forever

And hate Immortality

Modifié par Jaarlitar, 25 février 2011 - 10:54 .

[tankgirly]

@Jaarlitar, nice!

[Phoenix_Valkyre]

tankgirly wrote...

@Jaarlitar, nice!

@Jaarlitar Wow that was fabulous! Very Fenris-esque Thanks for sharing!! Is there more where this came from????

[solstickan]

Jaarlitar wrote...

Here's an old poem of mine that somehow makes me think of Fenromance.

Snip

Wow. You really have a way of using words. Very... colourful. I like.