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Literature Text
Morjen ran down the streets of Marlina, allowing the wind to pick up her hair and skirt and throw them behind her. She was dressed as someone from the Seriotý kingdom, and the loose-fitting blue clothing was much better than the ones they wore back home, thick and scratchy. The marketplace whipped past her as she ran down another street, the noises of yelling at each other over prices and different offers becoming indistinct, lost among the whooshing of the air around her.
She turned yet another corner, the light turning into a brown and musty darkness as she entered the alley. Small motes of captured sunlight occasionally drifted across her vision, but they became fewer and smaller as she entered the depths of the village's black market.
The atmosphere here was different from the one back at the village square. Instead of shouting prices at one another, the people whispered about deliveries and silently slid away, obviously so much more still trapped behind their lips. And instead of business and enthusiasm, the faces here were lost in people's hands, with expressions of hollowness and boredom once they seperated. The language was different, too, one in which Morjen could freely converse without being teased for her accent.
"Morjen!" someone called from across the market. Morjen's ears prickled at the sound, a smile beggining to appear as her eyes watered. She once again began to run, chasing Jorai's voice. She bustled through the crowd of people, most of them refugees, and with a final push she found the bespectacled girl.
"Jorai, how are you!?" Morjen cried, trowing herself onto Jorai. She was smiling crazily, trying to express all her feelings for her best friend in a single hug.
"Be quiet," she said with a commanding voice, but soon both were laughing again, conversing and throwing at each other the past few years. They talked into the night, until the crickets began to buzz around them, and then they chased each other around the marketplace. In the nighttime, is was busier than during the day, merrier. But they chased each other too far, perhaps, or maybe time just stopped, and suddenly the wind was ice cold, chewing into their bones with an intense precision. The darkness was no longer a simple fact, but rather an overwhelming and suffocating presence, as tangible as Morjen herself.
"Oh, I wonder what this is!" she said out loud, thinking that perhaps the enthusiastic and curious sentence would break the eerieness. Instead, it only augmented it, since the silence that returned, the lack of an echo, even the sudden cold now seemed terribly otherworldly, somewhere she shouldn't be.
"Hello," the voice was emotionless, precise, each vowel clipped. Morjen reached for Jorai, but instead found nothing. "I have a mission for you"
Morjen was tired of missions. She was tired of standing on a podium and yelling at the crowd, the crowd that somehow listened, and she was tired of everyone discussing politics, countries, when all that mattered was the sky and the grass melting together on the far-off horizon that turned orange, then red, then a melancholic purple.
"Listen," the voice said, and in her mind Morjen could feel her presence, large and cold and tragic. "The book of stories is unravelling, and with it the universes it holds. You are a part of those," she stopped, and some short gasps came from her direction, along with the sound of vomit. "And you need to prevent it from happening,"
Morjen smiled. It would be interesting, to save the universe, wouldn't it? But she was already saving too many things.
"And I can help you," the voice screeched, becoming faint. "I must go," it croaked, and slowly the presence dissapeared. However, in Morjen's hand she felt her fingers gripping a long, slender, metal rod. She held on to the tangibility of it, to the coldness against her fingertips, before she felt her body begin to be sucked away, kicked up by the wind and deposited somewhere else.
She turned yet another corner, the light turning into a brown and musty darkness as she entered the alley. Small motes of captured sunlight occasionally drifted across her vision, but they became fewer and smaller as she entered the depths of the village's black market.
The atmosphere here was different from the one back at the village square. Instead of shouting prices at one another, the people whispered about deliveries and silently slid away, obviously so much more still trapped behind their lips. And instead of business and enthusiasm, the faces here were lost in people's hands, with expressions of hollowness and boredom once they seperated. The language was different, too, one in which Morjen could freely converse without being teased for her accent.
"Morjen!" someone called from across the market. Morjen's ears prickled at the sound, a smile beggining to appear as her eyes watered. She once again began to run, chasing Jorai's voice. She bustled through the crowd of people, most of them refugees, and with a final push she found the bespectacled girl.
"Jorai, how are you!?" Morjen cried, trowing herself onto Jorai. She was smiling crazily, trying to express all her feelings for her best friend in a single hug.
"Be quiet," she said with a commanding voice, but soon both were laughing again, conversing and throwing at each other the past few years. They talked into the night, until the crickets began to buzz around them, and then they chased each other around the marketplace. In the nighttime, is was busier than during the day, merrier. But they chased each other too far, perhaps, or maybe time just stopped, and suddenly the wind was ice cold, chewing into their bones with an intense precision. The darkness was no longer a simple fact, but rather an overwhelming and suffocating presence, as tangible as Morjen herself.
"Oh, I wonder what this is!" she said out loud, thinking that perhaps the enthusiastic and curious sentence would break the eerieness. Instead, it only augmented it, since the silence that returned, the lack of an echo, even the sudden cold now seemed terribly otherworldly, somewhere she shouldn't be.
"Hello," the voice was emotionless, precise, each vowel clipped. Morjen reached for Jorai, but instead found nothing. "I have a mission for you"
Morjen was tired of missions. She was tired of standing on a podium and yelling at the crowd, the crowd that somehow listened, and she was tired of everyone discussing politics, countries, when all that mattered was the sky and the grass melting together on the far-off horizon that turned orange, then red, then a melancholic purple.
"Listen," the voice said, and in her mind Morjen could feel her presence, large and cold and tragic. "The book of stories is unravelling, and with it the universes it holds. You are a part of those," she stopped, and some short gasps came from her direction, along with the sound of vomit. "And you need to prevent it from happening,"
Morjen smiled. It would be interesting, to save the universe, wouldn't it? But she was already saving too many things.
"And I can help you," the voice screeched, becoming faint. "I must go," it croaked, and slowly the presence dissapeared. However, in Morjen's hand she felt her fingers gripping a long, slender, metal rod. She held on to the tangibility of it, to the coldness against her fingertips, before she felt her body begin to be sucked away, kicked up by the wind and deposited somewhere else.
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Literature
Nocte
Hiding from the beast,
From tree to tree,
Running in the dark,
I tell myself such things,
Slow- so it won't find you,
Breath.
These fires have scorched far and wide,
Leaving the scent of my former cinders to linger in my head,
Like some bad bender,
Warped memories encircling grey,
The ground is made of shattered glass,
Broken dreams.
No lilies remain,
To any kingdom I run,
In mirrors of liquid glass,
Surrealist battles are won,
And like fear,
The spider crawled from my mouth.
They are sedating everything,
Brush pixilated,
Focus changing,
Leaving me to run in the dark,
Caught in the eye of the storm,
Hiding in the calm.
Literature
The Letter
Of me it always gets the better
A reminder of what you once were
It will stick to me no what what will occur
A piece of parper with so much meaning
A memory of the smile beaming
The memories tend to flow
It will always be a comfort to know
The degree of happiness that came
Of how you took my heart to claim
You may be distant from my heart
But the paper gives my day a start
The words you wrote are slowly fading
My mind is always one you're raiding
The moonlilght still shines below
Gleaming memories from a freshly fallen snow
The summer nights still remind me of the night
When your smile pierced through with an angel's light
No matter how
Literature
...
fine then, just leave me alone
let me rot in this "shithole" existence
you don't like it?
well it's none of your business
try to turn me around
put me on "the right path"?
it won't work
you haven't experienced such wrath
and then experienced the everlasting calm
but you'll never understand
all you know is the bad
all you remember is sad
i'm sorry you felt the need to cut me off
it's a real shame
and you weren't even involved
as if our friendship was a game
well i miss your friendship
you hurt me just as badly
as the one you criticize
still, i would renew our bond, gladly
if you weren't this way or that
stubborn, hard headed
just open you
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Stupid end is stupid hurrhurr. And also abrupt.
I promise I tried my best with this one! I really did!
Also, here's the character description:
Physical description: Morjen is a lithe, spindly girl that many have said looks almost like a faerie. She has large grey eyes that usually look worried or distressed, even when smiling broadly. And she smiles often, with a giggly laugh that's barely audible. Her hair is long and with an odd light brown/dirty blonde colour, and she has a few freckles sprinkled across her cheeks. She is fourteen years old, but looks and acts much younger, although she is often wearing armour.
History: Morjen used to be a well-off aristocrat in the Khalar kingdom, but after it was raided and destroyed by the combined forces of four different empires, she lives as a refugee in the neighbouring village of Marlina. There, she enjoys a peaceful life, unaware of what has happened to her former country. Since her family used to hold much power in Khalar, she is often used as a figurehead to incite the people to fight against various enemies.
Personality: Morjen is a very carefree person, caring little for good or bad. She does whatever she desires most of the time, and entered the book not to fulfil the task given to her by Lady Ink, but rather just to explore the different worlds. Has a tendency to skirt responsibility, and relies on authority to give her a sense of security. When they fall short, she simply moves to a new role model to protect her. Also very shy around people she doesn't know, but energetic.
Chosen by: Lady Ink
Gift: Construct of a branch. Since her childhood games often consisted of making different noises by hitting objects with a stick, she can create any sound she imagines with her construct.
I promise I tried my best with this one! I really did!
Also, here's the character description:
Physical description: Morjen is a lithe, spindly girl that many have said looks almost like a faerie. She has large grey eyes that usually look worried or distressed, even when smiling broadly. And she smiles often, with a giggly laugh that's barely audible. Her hair is long and with an odd light brown/dirty blonde colour, and she has a few freckles sprinkled across her cheeks. She is fourteen years old, but looks and acts much younger, although she is often wearing armour.
History: Morjen used to be a well-off aristocrat in the Khalar kingdom, but after it was raided and destroyed by the combined forces of four different empires, she lives as a refugee in the neighbouring village of Marlina. There, she enjoys a peaceful life, unaware of what has happened to her former country. Since her family used to hold much power in Khalar, she is often used as a figurehead to incite the people to fight against various enemies.
Personality: Morjen is a very carefree person, caring little for good or bad. She does whatever she desires most of the time, and entered the book not to fulfil the task given to her by Lady Ink, but rather just to explore the different worlds. Has a tendency to skirt responsibility, and relies on authority to give her a sense of security. When they fall short, she simply moves to a new role model to protect her. Also very shy around people she doesn't know, but energetic.
Chosen by: Lady Ink
Gift: Construct of a branch. Since her childhood games often consisted of making different noises by hitting objects with a stick, she can create any sound she imagines with her construct.
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KLSDFKHK
SUCH BOOTIFUL ART
why don't you draw more often ;W;
SUCH BOOTIFUL ART
why don't you draw more often ;W;