dragoeniex

It was a brief story found hiding between the legend of Sir Gawain and a tome of German lessons- thin and with a nondescript title. Nothing of note, yet it piqued Beatrice’s curiosity. She frowned softly to herself as she read. It started, as many stories do, with its protagonist losing everything to personal tragedy. Sir Lawrence arrived at the castle Rosenbaum without anyone or anything left in his world. He had no wealth or land, and his once-silvered tongue had turned to lead in his mouth. All he could offer in exchange for a place to stay were his proficiencies with a sword and mount. The king and queen accepted, sympathetic to

She hated them all- nobles for their yawns, guards for their glee, and children for their fascination. Alixia's bound hands twitched. While a hooded man slipped rope around her neck, she imagined them all burning. If their fears would kill her, she wished she could justify them first. Somewhere, behind the crowd, something roared. Alixia's brow furrowed. Before she could see the reason for people's sudden panic, however, the support beneath her feet dropped. Green lightning flashed over her head. The witch fell… ...and did not stop until her body thudded against dirt. She had a moment to roll and see charred rope dangling before ever

It was a dreary thing, being a ghost, but Regina made do. She was the one who had fought to stay behind, so she was the one to blame if the lack of an afterlife became a trifle boring. Instead of moping about, she busied herself by looking after the affairs of her house. Heaven knew Norman was hopeless with a duster. It hadn’t been a problem, before he starting sending the maid away. Tucking wisps behind her ears, Regina looked at the slumbering lump of a man and tutted. He still kept to the far side of the bed. “Come, dear.” She folded the bedspread away from his shoulders. “While there’s still some morning lef

I haven't attended one of your concerts in twenty years. Before I even reach my seat, I know that was a mistake. Colors pulse in time to beats. The air is perfumed with strawberries and mint, charged with just enough additive to turn your audience's excitement into thrill. And there you stand at the head of it all, looking a year older if that, your lyrics mixing with laughter. Ever since scientists learned to slow aging from a sprint to a crawl, people have generally been more relaxed. Why not? There's more time to think, more time to choose, more time to live. But not you. You pace the stage with frantic energy, and I can hear your voice

Thomas sniffled, tissue in one hand and wrench in the other. He didn't even notice when he wiped his nose with the latter by mistake. “Okay, Bobbie.” His voice quavered. “You win! I-I'm sorry I broke your new transporter. I just really wanted to see if it would work on my plasma gun, because it was so cool. And I'm supposed to ask first, but I thought you'd be mad, and now you're even madder…” He hesitated, neck craned as he stared up at the lump of covers on the top bunk. “Can we go back to being brothers again? Pretty please?” The covers rustled before jerking to cover a tuft of red hair. Thomas

“Okay, team. Before anyone else does anything stupid, I think we all need to sit back, take a nice, deep breath and take stock of our assets.” A scruffy blond stared back at her. He held up his arms. “What assets?” Semi-permanent Marker Woman blinked. “Well, ah, our assets. You know. What we’ve got going for us. As a team.” “What team?” He looked back at the demolished landscape, spreading out for miles of city-scented dust. There had been so many things he had wanted to save in New York. The one he got to keep was the permeating smell of diesel fuel and day-old dreams. “At least

They wait nine hours. The signal for backup never comes. They find half of her across the clearing from her rover, circled by a sea of unidentifiable tracks. Whatever came for her, there were hundreds. Her communicator is off, and they find its batteries tucked in her pocket. Her fingers curl over a rosary instead.

Rap, rap, rap. You knock on the towering door. In seconds, you see the entryway light flicker on. They told you to wait. They told you to stay away, but you can't. You have to make sure she's alright. You need to see her. So as steps come closer, you decide. Forward – move to Hallway. Up – move to Window. Hallway You press against the door and step in as it opens. Your hand covers the butler's mouth, and your knife jabs between his ribs. You push forward, forward, forward until he sinks back, back, back. The knife is in deep, so you let him keep it. Find her – move to Study. Window You play a little ding-dong-ditch

Rose found it difficult, at times, to speak eloquently with all of the petals and jewels that dribbled from between her lips. The fairy who had blessed her had been very sweet, but Rose couldn't help thinking she might have breathed in too much pixie dust over the years. Who in their right mind had ever wished to speak in flowers? Still, if her mother hadn't panicked and kicked her out, Rose would never have met her prince. She supposed that was worth picking diamonds out of her teacup every time she complimented the server. Randolph was such a sweetheart about the whole thing. He had no need for more fineries, so she knew he truly wanted t

Hot tears roll down Karissa's cheeks as she watches everyone- friends, reporters, teachers- flock to Terra. They hang a gold medal around the girl's neck, completely forgetting about the girl with scraped, stinging knees who stands to the side, fingers clutching a participation badge in a death grip. Karissa's mouth tastes dry and sour. Terra has the gall to pull away from her stolen attention. She waves and trots over to her family on the sidelines. Little priss, acting like she doesn't love it. Who wouldn't? Karissa is about to go drag her so called 'friends' out of the crowd so they can leave when a finger taps her shoulder. She looks b