A Collection of Kite's Writings [Do Not Post]

[BlueEyedKite]

Don't worry, everyone lives/heals Help comes at the end of the story. And it could have been a lot worse for the gang if Nef didn't use his dream-weave magic to absorb some of the momentum of the crash.

IndentionA red dream-weave cloud crackled into existence. All passengers were unceremoniously dropped feet above solid ground. There was a clap of bodies hitting asphalt. The cloud warped then snuffed out.

Indention"Aaaaah heeeeellllppppp!!" Hoodwink wailed.

IndentionDamsel was uselessly pawing at the white-haired ram, feeling helpless. Beside them, Devilish was out cold.

Indention"I'm getting help!" Wile limped away for the nearby decoy house.

IndentionNefarian sucked in a stinging breath. There was a high-pitched ringing in his ears. He was familiar with the knife twisting pain in his chest: broken ribs. He tried to collect his thoughts. Mission... gone wrong... agents pursuing... an explosion... the getaway car cartwheeling end over end... Karma!

IndentionNef's vision swam as he struggled to his knees. The scene was chaos; Twisted metal, debris on fire, Hoodwink's screams replacing the tone in his ears. But where was...

IndentionKarma’s shoulders shook as his body threatened to collapse. He was unaware of the horned leader of Wicked Six advancing on him, Swindler.

Indention"Drove right into it." Swindler seethed." Trying to kill us all?"

IndentionHis usual twist of horns were alive: writhing like a coil of snakes as the leader's murderous intent spurred the rack into unchecked growth. His pupils were blown out like a shark closing in on prey. Swindler stretched out his arm, his fingers warped into a claw as the solid black of his dream-weave magic emerged.

Indention"Sic, Wolfy."

IndentionOut of a black void a monstrous beast leapt onto the scene. Its witch talons scrambled on the blacktop as it sprinted for Karma. It was baying a call that turned blood to ice; A giddy hunger to kill.

IndentionKarm looked over his shoulder. He closed his blue eyes. He was spent. Brace for impact.

IndentionWolfy gave a whine and collapsed to the ground, scraping its maw on the asphalt. Its mouth suddenly snapped shut and the crease of its jaw vanished. All the while there was a cherry red glow around its muzzle.

IndentionNefarian was standing close by. One arm braced his ribs while the other was outstretched. The remnants of his dream-weave magic still glowed from the middle of his palm.

Indention"It's...not... his fault," Nef panted, his black eyes on Swind.

Indention"You dare transfigure MY horror beast?"

IndentionYou could cut the atmosphere with a knife.

IndentionKarma wheezed. He swayed in place. He'd faint soon.

Indention"Kcup," Nefarian said softly. He took a step toward the shorter walker.

Indention"DON'T you DARE go to him." Swindler was vibrating with rage." DON'T interfere in my methods."

Indention"Swind, please. He's hurt and Dutch woul--"

Indention"FORGET Dutch! This could be his desire!"

IndentionWolfy was engulfed in black magic as it was released from their plane, dissolved in a blink. Swindler snapped his fingers and a mammoth of a creature erupted from the ground. It was like a mutated experiment of an eastern dragon and a centipede. The abomination clacked together pincers the size of dinner plates. The Six leader summoned to his side his top horror fiend, Legs.

Indention"Swind. Think about this. No plans would risk his getaway driver taken out. Why would he want this?" Nefarian's eyes were watering from the pain speaking was doing to his broken ribs.

Indention"He still needs to be punished! This is his fault!" Swindler screamed shrilly. Legs tilted his insect-like head like a mantis watching a fly.

IndentionFor several beats it was the screams of Hoodwink, the sobs of Damsel, and the ragged breathing of the rest of the party resonating across the parking lot.

IndentionSwindler turned his face in the direction of Karma.

Indention"Don't, Swind," Nefarian begged.

IndentionLegs snaked in the air, a viper ready to strike.

Indention"Please."

IndentionSwindler pointed at Karm and Legs was zooming towards the ram. Nefarian, quick on the draw, enveloped the beast's head in his dream-weave magic. The beast's eyes were pulled shut. The bug-dragon gave a piercing screech as it slammed into the ground. Nef, focusing the last of his strength on stopping the threat to his crush, did not defend against the sucker punch to his jaw.

IndentionNef saw stars. He staggered forward but somehow managed to catch himself. The asphalt bit into his palms. He barely had time to suck in a breath before Swindler was on top of him. One hand seized Nefarian by the back of his hoodie, the other hand was balled into a fist, prepared to rain down punches.

Indention"NO! NO! NO!"

IndentionWho was screaming? Hoodwink? Damsel? Was it himself? To his ears the shrieks sounded distant, muffled. He didn't realize it was fluid filling his eardrum. His brain, reeling under the barrage of sensations, grasped onto the only static image that easily came to mind: brunette curls, baby blues, those soft lips smiling....smiling...

IndentionNefarian put an arm up to block the incoming blow, then kicked Swindler with all his might. The hit sent the other ram sprawling. Nef didn't have much time, he stumbled to his feet. That was all the prep he managed before Swind was on him again, launching a blow. Nefarian ducked to the side, a miss. Swindler sent another jab, then another. Nef was weaving to avoid the strikes, his arms up to deflect a punch if he could. This went on for what felt like hours to Nefarian's exhausted body.

IndentionThen, there was a shift to their clash. Swindler stepped back and summoned a jagged blade into his right hand. His retrieval of the weapon was so lightning quick that Nef's brain did not have time to comprehend what was happening—let alone decide how to defend. He threw up his right hand, running on survival mode.

IndentionThere was no white-hot pain of being sliced. Instead, he heard the sing of metal on metal. Nefarian was holding a broadsword, the edges still glowed faintly orange from Karma’s dream-weave magic.

IndentionInstinct took over. Nef leveraged a parry: knocking Swindler's blade away with a twist of his own. Then he struck Swind with the pommel of his weapon. The Six leader crumpled to the ground like a dropped stone. Lights out, sleep.

IndentionNef let go of the sword. It clanged on the blacktop. He was running, crossing the distance between himself and his little lamb. He dropped to his knees and cradled Karma’s face in his hands. The shorter ram's eyes fluttered closed as his body slumped.

Indention"Karma, no!"

IndentionNefarian ignored the pounding of his head, the searing pain of his ribs. He only thought of Karma, Karma, Karma.

IndentionWas he saying his name out loud? Regardless, Nef pulled the smaller male into his arms, rocking in place.

Indention"Hang on, little lamb. Stay with me. Stay with me." He could be screaming the words; he could barely hear himself.

IndentionAt some point, hands were trying to take Karma from him. Nefarian snarled and clutched tighter. The fingers would not stop prying. He was being wrenched away, no, Karma!

IndentionA black haze was bordering Nefarian's vision. Closing in as the ringing in his ears came back with a vengeance. Blessed darkness enclosed him. Sleep.

[BlueEyedKite]

IndentionMy writers group challenged everyone to write a synopsis for their book. This is the summary I made for the novel I am currently writing. Feedback welcome!

Nefarian is your average dreamwalker criminal. He uses his magic to protect his crewmates while they slip through nightmares and siphon the aura from unsuspecting, sleeping human souls. But that's not all he wants from life.

There was a time he'd experienced real deal love. Just to throw it away. Abandon the sole walker that meant the most to him. It was the only way to prove his loyalty, to earn second in command within the notorious group: Wicked Six. Someday the heartache would be worth it when he, and his crew, were at the top of the food chain.

Then the axis of Nefarian’s world shifted when one heist went sideways. They were thwarted of their target by a crew new on the scene. A crew that utilized a mysterious, magical tool Wicked Six hoped to get their hands on. Perhaps, with a contract to work alongside the inexperienced crew, there'd be an opportunity to thief the valuable.

Now Nef is entangled. Chosen to mentor the most promising member of the rival crew, their rank two. A walker whose magical abilities are the rarest among their kind. Who happens to also make Nef feel an unexplained connection between them. Enough to put his life on the line, to follow him into the darkest depths of the dreamscape.

He's toeing a line. Cross it, and Nefarian will have more than Wicked Six to answer to.

[BlueEyedKite]

IndentionThis is an example of a scene from my novel. Although... I had to make a few changes to make it CS appropriate lol.

IndentionNefarian allowed Wile and Dame to escape, then lingered by the now empty bench. It would be easy, expected even, to go prowling for the dance floor and leave Karma to his fate. And yet, Nef felt rooted to the spot, watching the troubled look settle on the other walker’s masculine features. Those furrowed brows were back, joined by a tight clench to the shorter walker’s jaw. A barb of sympathy prickled Nef's conscience. With a sigh, Nefarian slid back into the booth.

Indention“What’s eating ya?”

Indention“Nothing.” Karma did not look up.

Indention“Ah, we playin’ hot and cold? I’ll admit, I’m not the best at guessin’, we might be here a while. Good thing we have plenty of root beer.” Nef refilled his mug back to the top.

Indention“How do you… get over it?” Karma dropped his voice to a whisper, like they were discussing something taboo.

Indention“Get over what, exactly?”

IndentionPale eyes finally looked up to meet Nef's ebony gaze. "I can still feel it. When it had me.” Karma’s voice wavered. His fingers gripped his mug so tightly the whites of his knuckles shone. "Felt like a tomb. I couldn’t breathe.”

IndentionAnother stab of sympathy. Yeah, he'd been scared witless then too. Nef rubbed the nape of his neck, opened his mouth to respond.

IndentionKarma was quick to interject. "Forget it." His gaze lowered to his drink again. "It's nothing."

IndentionNefarian let the silence stretch between them, before finally speaking up, a rueful smile on his lips. "Did I ever tell you, about my first heist?"

Indention"No." The other walker loosened his grip on his mug to rub at the condensation on the glass.

Indention"Well, it was one of those underwater nightmares. Ya know the ones, all murky water and shipwreck pieces. Had this big, shark type beastie, cruising around." Nef's brow came down as he glared at a dollop of dip smeared on the table. "When it came at me, I completely choked it. Too scared out of my mind to weave a thing. Zilch. The shark thing, it took big cookie sized bites out of me. I would have been done for if Swindler didn't have one of his horror fiends jet me to the exit." He laughed a hollow laugh. "But then you know, even when you pop out the other side, the pain you felt, whether it was real or not, it sticks with ya.”

IndentionKarma didn’t say anything right away. He traced an idle pattern with his finger. "So, how did you get over it?” he asked slowly. "I mean, doesn’t look like nightmares bother you now.”

Indention“Uh, yeah, Hoodwink made a giant swimming pool and Swindler stuck one of his aquatic horror fiends, Sewer Rat, in it. Wouldn’t let me leave the pool til I could weave a good enough defense.”

IndentionThe other walker’s pale eyes widened. "Are you serious? How did that help? Sounds traumatizing.”

IndentionNef guffawed at the remark. "Yeah it was, actually. I don’t think it helped, well, it taught me how to weave under pressure, but didn’t help a lick with my fears. Still don’t like the water dreams.” He shrugged his shoulders. "You learn to find ways to deal after.”

Indention“Like what?”

Indention“Everyone’s got their thing. Dame paints, Devilish strums on his guitar, and Wile knits.” Nef held up a finger as he named each member of Six's hobbies.

Indention“Seriously? Wile knits?”

Indention“Nah, I made that last one up. He games. Mostly old school side scroller shooters.”

Indention“Oh.” Nef thought he heard disappointment in Karma’s voice. "You didn’t say what you do to cope.”

IndentionNefarian drained the last half of his beverage in three strong chugs, then banged his glass on the table when he set it aside. "I drink soda.” He bobbed his torso back and forth. "I also dance.”

IndentionAn immediate look of distaste contorted Karma’s face. "No thanks.”

IndentionThe blonde snickered. "You don’t have to like it, but you should find some way to unwind after a jump.” He tapped his chin. "Ah, also, I’d make it a healthy activity.”

Indention“Noted.”

IndentionNefarian chanced a glance at the dance floor. He recognized a few regulars who were living it up to some billboard top 100 tunes. Yeah, it looked like a good time. His black eyes snapped back to Karm. The other walker was watching him intently, but averted his gaze not so subtly when he realized Nef had turned back.

Indention“Alright, here’s how it’s gonna go, baby blues. I’m not gonna leave you in this booth, so you have two choices. You can come with me, let loose to some music. Or, Hoodwink signs you up for a song.”

Indention“Hard pass! I’m not singing, and, I’m not dancing either.”

Indention“I never said dancing.” Nef smirked. "We’ll just be feeling the beat, while other folks dig the vibes too.”

IndentionKarma scoffed but appeared conflicted, glancing outside their booth then back at Nefarian. "I don’t…”

IndentionNef slid out of the bench and danced in place by swaying his upper body. "Come on! Beats sharing a booth with stale bread. Live a little.”

IndentionThe brunette gave a dramatic sigh, but scooted along the bench to exit.

Indention“Great choice, Karm! Now, follow me.” Nef offered his hand, but retracted it when he saw the narrowed look the other walker dished out. "Uh, just stay close.”

[BlueEyedKite]

This is worldbuilding for my maru Quilo. It gives some backstory on his family dynamic and where he lives!

Quilo never meant to leave his homeworld. True, he was no social elite but he had a fine life! He had his humble house with the creaky porch swing. A bedroom with a view of a tree where a little zuzu bird made their nest every spring. His job as algae cleaner was not glamous by any means, but it was outdoors! He expected to live out his days on Fortuna, not fantastically but fine!

If not for his soft spot. His heart outside his body that had legs and often, often, walked away from him. His dear sister: Damia.

Damia could not cope with Fortuna. She was arguably the force of nature on the planet. Having an ungodly gift to manipulate fauna. So powerful, so revered, yet so miserable! No matter how Quilo fussed over his sister, and it was embarrassing the level he stooped to cheer up his sis, Damia loathed the planet and its citizens that pawed at her to fix every little chewed crop leaf.

Quilo blames himself for her bolting. He should have known he couldn't have a lovely holiday at sea. She had told him to go. Wished him well. Helped him pack! He wasn't on the ferry for 10 mins before her absence had been noted.

"Get her back Quilo! She loves you! She'll listen to you! Promise her anything! Everything! Just please, please find her and bring her home!" Those were his orders from the top.

The galaxy gatekeepers could only tell him which wormhole Damia had taken. A path to a planet known for its completely adorable four-legged populace. A planet called Ryū Sekai, dragon world, the home of Marumi.

Two days on this planet and he's taken a new form: fluffy, fun-sized, and blue! What's more he's mixed up some locals in his mess. They're all trapped in the infamous Mage's Mansion. A black hulking magical abode. Rumor has it Damia was seen slipping inside. But where could she be? Why would she want to explore a house so convoluted?

Until he locates his sister he'll work his way through this maze of a mansion. His home is a house ever-changing.

Word count: 361

[BlueEyedKite]

This is an example of a story involving Marus!

Quilo was never one to cause a scene. Unfortunately, crashlanding on a foreign planet in a new body was not an event one could ease into. So there he was: unceremoniously dropped on his newly fluffy bum. Scambling in the grass, contending with four limbs and a tail like a tree limb. He was a wriggling, squalling, bundle of blue fur.

"Oh gods, Dreamsicle, c'mere. It's another one of those weirdos!" A masculine voice, like the thrum of a bass, came from nearby.

Quilo stilled. Weirdo? Was he talking about me? Outrageous!

"What? If you're pulling my tail again, Amaris--"

"Just come and look," snapped the deep voice.

Awkwardly, Quilo coordinated himself up onto his feet, no not feet, paws. He could feel the erratic beating of his heart in his chest. At least that sensation was familar. Outside himself, he picked up on the emotion in the air like it was charged energy: the prickly tingle of amusement mixed with the smooth undertones of boredom. The subdued feelings wafted from the smaller of the two creatures, who had orange fur and light blue eyes. The excitement radiated from the darker coat of the two dragons. Who had teeth... outside his fur! Showcasing the most murderous, toothy grin! Quilo scrambled back, heart hammering all the harder.

"Aww you're scarin' the little fluff," said the blue-eyed one.

The other chuckled. Quilo might have thought it was malicious if he didn't still sense the aura of amusement coming from that one.

"What cha expect from weirdos out in the marsh? Clearly don't know a mask when they see one."

Oh? Mask. Wait. Marsh!

He glanced down to notice his paws were standing on crumpled tall grass. Murky water crept up to his ankles.

"Ah! Filthy water! No, no, no!" Quilo chanted as he churned his four legs to locomotive himself to shore.

"Watch it, Fluff, you're flinging water everywhere," chided the one with orange fur.

"My name is not Fluff." Quilo dragged himself up, trying to look as dignified as possible with soggy paws. "It's Aquilo--er, Quilo, actually. And you fine creatures are?"

"Creatures? Really, Fluff." The mask-wearer's amusement soured to points of annoyance.

"This is Amaris," the shorter offered. "I'm Dreamsicle."

And just like that, the mood lightened. They all had names. Maybe Damia hadn't snuck off to such a bad planet. Maybe Amaris and Dreamsicle had seen where she'd gone.

A smile spread across his maw. "You mentioned, uh, a weirdo. Did this weirdo--"

"Roll in the marsh like a fool too? Yep."

Humph. Amaris was an interrupter, that could get old fast. Still, this sounded promising! Damia wouldn't understand how to navigate a four legged body any better that he did. And heck, maybe the gatekeeper's drop any new alien in the same spot! A marsh is a pretty rude landing pad, but, no matter.

"Where did this weirdo go?" He probed.

"Why?" Dreamsicle's emotional aura transformed from bored to suspicious.

"Yeah. Why do you need to know?" Amaris tilted his head, his feelings too switched to suspicion.

Yikes. The vibes were not good. Quilo normally chewed his lower lip when he was anxious but his new mouth was so long and unruly. He caught his lip on one of his fangs, probably looked as ridiculous as he felt.

The air of hostility lightened just a touch. Dreamsicle chuckled. Dreamsicle. She seemed like the more friendly of the two. She didn't wear a ghoulish mask. Perhaps he could just... nudge her into feeling more... open.

As a feeler, Quilo, had average abilities. He preferred to sense the emotions around him and not tamper. But he needed to find his sis. These were unprecedented times. Just this once, he'd give it a try.

Unsticking his lip with a flick of his tongue, he then took a steady breath in. On his exhale he directed some of his magic at Dreamsicle. The dragon should feel a warm sensation coming over her. Calm, inviting. With any luck, it would feel silly to keep up the cold shoulder.

He tried again. "Please. This weirdo is important to me."

Amaris looked over at his companion with narrowed eyes. "Uh, Dream, you okay?"

Dreamsicle gave a slow blink of her eyes.

There was silence all around. Then.

"They went to the Mage's Mansion. We followed them there."

"Ah, Dream! You know we're not supposed to be anywhere near there. Why'd you tell the fluff?" Amaris shook his head.

"Can you show it to me?" Quilo pressed his magic a little harder. A stronger hug of calm and tranquility.

"Ok."

Dreamsicle turned and padded off. Quilo, and then Amaris, were quick to follow.

"Dream. Dream! We gotta turn around. We're gonna get in trouble."

Amaris' pleads fell on deaf ears. Dreamsicle moved like a dragon possessed. She led them through low brush, then a crowded wood, before they approached a towering black mansion with an intricate wrought-iron fence. The orange-furred marumi squeezed her body between two bars, popping out behind the fence line to continue on to the house. Quilo momentarily was stuck by his tail, Amaris had to bend it, so he could free himself from the bars. Then the two of them rejoined Dreamsicle on the porch.

"They went through there," she said cooly.

'There' was a massive mahogany door with a snarling dragon head for a door knocker. Damia, what are you doing?

"Ok. So... do I just knock?" Quilo could hear the shake in his voice.

"No you don't knock. This place is forbidden. We should leave," Amaris growled.

"It's not locked. They went through the door."

Quilo could sense the certainty coming from Dreamsicle. She was telling the truth.

"It's okay. Thank you for showing me. You two can g--"

Before he could finish his sentence the door snapped open and a horrible rush of wind dragged at his fur. Quilo was pulled into the doorway. Like he were a piece of lint sucked up a vacuum. So fast he did little more than squeak!

Slam.

That was the door. Quilo realized. That had shut behind him. He was on the floor and a warm body was on his back.

"Oh sorry, Quilo." Dreamsicle's high pitched voice came from above him. The weight lifted off him as he saw her stand nearby.

"Nevermind that! This door won't budge!" Amaris was shoving his skull into the door. His claws scraped on the ground. "If it wasn't locked before it is now."

"Who is it you're looking for, Quilo?" Dreamsicle asked in a hushed voice. She was giving off fear and anxiety.

"My sister," Quilo said, rising to his paws, "I have to find her."

Word count: 1,112

[BlueEyedKite]

In the land of marumis, Amaris is your average dragon dweller. Soft dark fur, smoky tones throughout, a big fluffy tail. His ears have adorable little tufts at the ends. Most striking are his eyes: an intense blood red. They make for one very unnerving stare. And yet, of all his features he has no horns, no wings, no distinctive traits to place him among the marumi elite. A fact that ranks him among his kind as "common".

Amaris was the only offspring of two perfectly average marus. He has no tragic childhood. No unsettling past. The community treated him well, no matter his lack of rare appendages. He grew up in the popular colony residing in the Singing Mountains. There, a network of interconnecting caves make up the homes for the marus that live on the peaks.

As an adult he has his own carved out den. There are stalactites hanging down from the roof, a shallow pool of crystal clear water in the back corner, and even pockets of naturally growing crystals. If his cave weren't cozy enough, the maru added some homey touches; A patterned throw rug for sunbathing, some potted plants near the entrance, and wind chimes to sing a tune with each passing breeze.

No, he has no reason to complain about his home or the marumis he spends his days with. Despite this, Amaris has always had an itch to set himself apart. His voice, a deep baritone once he reached maturity, he plays up to sound as raspy and mysterious as possible. Some find his snark witty so he will dial up the teasing around his friends to rake in the laughs. His looks may fall under "common" but he took what avenues he could to express himself. Amaris had custom made jewelry commissioned for his ears. His mask was the result of nights pouring over sketches for just the right concept for his bone-chilling grin. He is never seen without his accessories, not even while sleeping.

All in all, Amaris would like to prove himself. He's always willing to lend a paw, or a listening ear. Maybe someday he can get his chance in the spotlight? One thing is for certain, if he's given a chance to shine, this maru is taking it!

Word count: 381

[BlueEyedKite]

This is a writing piece for bugzybunni from the POV of her marumi, Evangeline.

Under the glow of the full moon’s light, an ethereal being roves the land laid bare. She is as fair as the palest pink rose. Her fur as plush to the touch as petals. Her mane streams behind her, tresses that flow like the current of a playful river. Eyes as dazzling as captured starlight. She is a sight to behold. A marumi named for the joy her mere presence evokes, ‘good news shining’: Evangeline.

Evangeline stalked for her next victim.

Her gaze drifted lazily over the scenery below. Living beings blazed like torches to her celestial sight. Nothing but common, wild vermin. A waste of her time. Where were the substantial souls? Surely this marsh housed one creature worthy of her amusement.

She heard it faintly at first.

Drawing near, the sounds pulled at her. A pitiful shouting. Hopeless. Ringing over the Wailing Marsh. She followed the calls of distress, gliding like some enchantress, until she set her sights on him.

“Ah, no. Please, stop,” the forlorn creature groaned.

It was a marumi. Wading through the murky waters. Dragging his paws yet still pressing onward, going deeper into a lagoon that had to be freezing at this hour of the night. Her celestial sight afforded her knowledge no mortal could deduce with a glance. He was of the demon kind. Formidable lineage. No doubt a power of some kind lurked within the wretch. Curious though. The collar, at his neck, it glowed an eerie white. Evangeline narrowed her eyes, focusing her gaze on the accessory. Was this the source of his power? No… no. Not power…

A smile, serene as the first rays of morning, spread across her face. Her lips would never betray the malice brewing within.

“You poor, poor, pitiable soul,” her voice often captivated listeners. “If you continue, you will surely drown.”

“Please.” The demon maru’s plea came out quivering. His teeth chattered. “Help me.”

Those last two words fanned the wicked mirth she felt at his obvious show of suffering. Yes, the low life needed her. Ah, wasn’t this a glorious chance meeting! Oh what fun she would have!

“How shall I help you?” She bit the inside of her cheek to keep her smile from turning villainous.

“Can you make it stop?”

The male marumi was chest deep in the lagoon. Very soon the water would rise to his chin.

Maybe she could. Evangeline did not dwell on the matter. After all, to free him from his enchantment would spoil the spectacle.

“Oh that I could. I am not from these lands. I’m afraid my powers do not reach so far from home.”

A lie. Not that she would admit.

The marumi sputtered as water rushed over his muzzle. He tilted his chin up, trying his best to keep his head above water. He got out one word, “try!”

Evangeline watched the demon slip under the lagoon’s surface. The light from his collar gave off an unsettling glow. Like he were a phantom in a world turned murky, and grim. This would not do. If he perished, she would be left once more on her hunt for entertainment. The night was waning. She could not afford to wait.

She would not free him from his vice. But, the goddess would extend a bit of her grace, to nudge him away from the edge. So, Evangeline flooded the marumi’s collar with her light. The added fuel propelled the collar, and it’s unwilling victim, forward. The demon marumi was wrenched through the waters like he were pulled on an invisible line. A hapless fish. Brought to shore dripping and soaked to the bones.

She laughed. Overwhelmed with delight at the sad state of him.

“T-thank y-ou.” His words were garbled as if his very throat was water logged.

“A pleasure.” She meant it.

There was that annoying tug. A call from her realm. Her followers must be awake. They called to her, and she could not resist long. The pests.

“Tell me,” she paused to wet her lips, “what are you called, poor wandering soul?”

The marumi’s legs, shaking as they were, scrambled until he stood on the bank. He began a stumbling march forward. The shoreline plants clawed at his damp fur. “Valentine.”

I will remember you. Valentine.

“Farewell, dear Valentine. I promise to visit you again.”

She could not stay any longer. The goddess turned her head as light swallowed her up. She would depart, leaving the wretch to continue his forsaken promenade through the marsh.

Word count: 752

[BlueEyedKite]

Worldbuilding for my new marumi Meere

Of the many gods and goddesses, the laziest, by far, is Teufel der Meere. Meere, death god of the depths: the possessor of all souls lost at sea. Many a heartbroken mortal would wail at his gates. This annoyed Meere to no end. It was a long walk from the gates to the Sea of Souls. To be bombarded with every conceivable sob story was no life for a god. He devised a plan that would satisfy his stickler-for-the-rules siblings and relieve him of his duty. His ring, having the power to call souls from the depths, he stowed away. Yes it was reachable. Yes it would remain intact. And yes he had a convoluted riddle for some foolhardy hero to solve:

A magical place, an unfillable pit,
The ring you seek at the bottom of it.

Be not deceived by the small guise,
When completely full, the ring will rise.

A curse placed upon, ever emptying your fill.
Your task is set,

Fail.

Surely you will.

Meere had his wish. The fair few who made it to the magical pit could not get the ring to rise. Water, sand, liquid gold, no substance accumulated. All would drain out before the seeker could hope. So it was for centuries.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was no one special. A marumi with a muzzle gone gray. Thin as a waif. But his eyes, no one could deny how fiercely they burned. It was these eyes that stared unwaveringly ahead. At the path to Meere’s pit.

“I have shown you the way ahead, as you have asked, dear mortal. Won’t you reconsider? I sense your time on this plane is not long,” an other-worldly voice rang out in the air, despite the fact the celestial being’s lips never moved. “Why not rest, and go peacefully? Why walk a path so perilous when your hour is dire?”

The old maru did not look back at the goddess. “Thank ye fer the directions, fair lady. I’ll be goin’ now.”

“Very well. I pry no more. Farewell, favored follower."

The being of light and beauty inclined her head in a graceful bow. And then, she alighted away.

The old maru wasted no time, slipping a bag around his neck. He stooped to grasp the handle of a lantern between his teeth. Then he began the march down the cliffside. His gait was slow and stiff. The creak of his swinging lantern matched the creak of the marumi's joints. Eventually he reached the shoreline.

Just ahead, an eerie glow shone from under the surface of the waves. Round and globe-like, not unlike a bubble. A bubble that could fit a marumi but no more. The seeker ambled to this light source. His pace did not falter even as the ocean rushed to meet him. He took a last breath in before plunging into the water.

Paws churned. His bag floated upwards. The old marumi swam to the bubble. When he broke through he sucked in air between teeth still gripping the lantern. He rested momentarily. Then passed through the thin membrane of the magical globe and continued swimming.

Below him was a chain of bubbles, sinking down, and down, into dark waters lit only by the globes. Curious sea creatures swam nearby, observing the elder descend. When the marumi had reached the last of the bubbles he had passed through an underwater cave and surfaced to an open cavern.

Darkness engulfed the space. He paused by the water's edge, where at least there was some weak light given off by the final bubble. He set the dripping lantern down. His teeth found the zipper of his bag. The sound of the bag opening echoed. Out he retrieved a lump of wax. Peculiar. The maru crunched the wax until it fell away in a shower to the cavern floor. Inside was a single match.

The marumi opened a panel in the lantern to reveal a reservoir of oil and a single wick. There was a flash, a resounding crackle, as he lit the match then held it to the tip of the wick. It ignited.

The lamp revealed the contents of the chamber: containers of every shape and make were strewn about. The casualties of failed attempts. The marumi paid them no heed as he made his way to the pit's edge, carrying his lamp. Even with the added light source he could not see far into the hole.

One last item was taken from his water-logged bag. A reflector. It was positioned painstakingly, moved in incremental movements, until the light from the lantern was concentrated. One thick beam shone into the pit. The walls were bathed in the warm light.

There was nothing, save for the ragged breathing of the marumi, until—

It was as if the light was amplified all at once. The pit radiated like a bowl filled with golden sunlight. The marumi shielded his eyes to afford himself a peek. And lo, among the rays, bobbed a small silver object.

-----

"And then I slept a wink. Took a toll on me old bones. All the blasted swimming! But I got yer ring. And I brought it up. So ye take it and ye give me back Sammy Hawkins. That's Sammy Hawkins. S-a-m-m—"

"Nine-hells, I don't need you to spell it. I'm a god!" The sea devil himself, in the flesh, stomped an annoyed paw as he addressed the old marumi. "You brought a lantern. To the bottom of the ocean? A lantern?"

The gruff, elderly maru wagged the open paw that cradled the ring. "Aye. To fill yer pit with light. Now take this.”

Meere stared at the maru like he had two heads. This was a disaster. He could see it now. The beggars at his gate as soon as word spread about the return of his ring.

“I don’t want it.”

“Ya have ter take it.”

“Mmmh. Don’t you want to keep it? I bet you could sell it for… uh, a nice comb and some shampoo.”

“I want SAMMY HAWKINS!”

“Alright, alright.”

Meere practically sulked as he slunk over to the old maru. He did take the ring. He begrudgingly wore it. Called forth S-a-m-m-y from the Sea of Souls. Which by the way, wasn’t this old guy’s son or old flame or anyone important. It was just a rookie ship hand that fell overboard fifty years ago. Some stubborn senior feeling regret at the end of his life meant that he had to be the god of the depths again? Life wasn’t fair!

Next time he’d come up with a better riddle. After his celestial family lifted his ban from the surface, that is.

Word count: 1,112

[BlueEyedKite]

All Fables have been humanized for ease of writing. They look like people except with horns/antlers, if applicable.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sinking winter sun cast reaching beams of light through the westerly windows of the carriage. Normally this intrusion of light was a welcomed annoyance. Acting as a source of warmth in the normally chilly confines of the creaking, jostling box. Yet, Cian was fortunate to keep rare company. One member of his party had the gift of flame. A playfully flickering fire crackled between the cupped hands of his companion. Such lavishness meant their carriage interior was comfortably cozy. Spirits should be high.

“And what do we think of the location of this year’s ball?” A masculine voice came from his right.

“Oh, Bishop, are you really going to fault a Fable who had no choice in the matter?” the good-humored voice of the owner of the flame spoke up.

“It’s unoriginal. Another grandiose estate. Why can’t we branch out?” The first speaker, Bishop, retorted.

“Would you rather have us dance on the deck of a ship?” The tall Fable seated by the flame-owner’s left cut in. “Something tells me you might.”

Bishop’s brows furrowed, like he may be offended, and his mouth opened to perhaps defend himself. Cian took this moment to intervene.

“Taejin.” He turned his gaze to the tall Fable then shook his head when they made eye contact. “Friends. I’m so pleased to spend another dance with such fine company.” Cian’s voice was a deep baritone, but held a surprising amount of warmth. “Let’s not quarrel over minor details. Not when fun awaits us.”

The fire-keeper nodded her head approvingly while her neighbor, Taejin, raised his hands, as if to signal surrender.

Bishop shifted in his seat to look at Cian. He smiled broadly. “Fun, like the fun of meeting a certain betrothed?” he emphasized that last word, drawing out the vowel.

ba-dm ba-dm

Cian could feel his heart pick up speed at the mention of that one. It was a childish reaction, really. Especially considering everyone knew their union was nominal, in name only. Loose ends from a long-ago agreement. Ancient politics. Bishop just liked to stir a rise out of others. That was all. Still.

ba-dm ba-dm ba-dm

It was true he had been looking forward to finally glimpsing the Fable he was promised to. What would this mysterious Fable look like? What were his manners? All he knew were the distinctions of his herd. Herd Vallor. Impressive accounts, but no word on their heir. Finally, tonight, he would have his curiosity satisfied.

A soft chuckle coaxed him out of his musing. “Is that a blush on our Cian?”

Cian instinctively rubbed his cheek. Hoping to scrub the color from his face. “Oh, no. It’s your fire, dear Sanni. I’m no match for your flames. Not when I’m wearing my furs.” He shrugged his heavy fur-lined cloak off his shoulders. “That’s better.”

Sanni smiled, perhaps knowingly, but she was never one to pry and would say no more on the subject. Blessedly, the rocking of their carriage drew every Fable’s attention. After a sudden jolt, their ride became uncommonly smooth. Just as quickly as they noticed this, the paneled window separating their interior from the driver’s box, slid open.

“I would have a look outside, young master. We’ve reached the grounds,” the gruff, yet familiar voice of their driver, called through the gap.

Everyone crowded their nearest window. Outside sprawled the charming estate of their host, a Fable named Lórien . Cian saw a swath of pristine snow, then beyond was a border of mature trees. Old magic dwelled in those woods, it was well known, but if there were curious fae folk watching their journey—he would not be able to tell from so far a distance.

Something passed by the window, refracting the light that streamed into the carriage, projecting blue rays within. When another passed, Cian got a good look. They were moving under archways. Delicately carved ice sculptures by the looks of the transparent blue formations. Impressive. He suspected the arches had been enchanted. Each pass under the ice came with a light dusting of snow that twirled and spun as it fell. Even more impressive.

The young heir was admiring an outdoor pavilion mysteriously free of winter’s touch when he felt the carriage come to a stop. The door opened and he didn’t stifle the chuckle of amusement when he observed Bishop’s hurried exit. Taejin stepped out next, although he lingered by the doorway to offer his hand to the fair, Sanni. She had extinguished her flame, but Cian imagined Taejin would find her fingers pleasantly warm when she accepted his offered hand. Last out of the coach, Cian leaned back to take in the sights of their host’s estate.

House Lysandor's mansion was a handsome building with tall windows and stately columns. A home in opposition to his own dwelling at Herd Solasta. He was used to the gray, worn exterior of the castle, nature overtaking some of the stonework with a layer of soft moss. He doubted the Great Wood castle could shine as brightly as House Lysandor even if every Fable in the herd were tasked with cleaning off the aged limestone.

“Eh, Cian. Will you be spending the evening admiring the manor?” Bishop chided from nearby.

Cian gave a good-natured laugh as he turned to follow his friend into the line of attendees. Everyone was dressed in their region’s finery. Cian himself wore his royal attire: a lavish silk tunic, embellished trousers, polished leather boots, and his family’s tartan draped around his shoulders. His wavy silver locks he had tamed with perfumed oil. He was meant to serve as the example of Herd Solasta’s best. Furthermore, the young heir was tasked with introducing himself to as many Fables as was reasonable for these soirées. He’d be expected to give his report to the king, his father, no matter the late hour of his return. 'A daunting task,' he thought, peering down the long line.

Eventually, he was ushered into the grand ball room. The noise of it all enveloped him. There was a constant drone of indistinguishable conversations. The sounds of cutlery and the clink of glassware. Above it all was a jaunty tune no doubt setting the tone for fashionable dancing.

His eyes scanned the room. It was a lovely sight: gleaming marble floors, a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows he suspected looked out on a romantic garden, and overhead a lofty vaulted ceiling decorated with a breathtaking mural. Filling the space was a sea of party goers. The social elite he assumed were already on the dance floor. Other established members of society would either be in huddled groups by the sidelines or dining at tables. Along the wall were the individuals on the fringes of the social order. For his first pass of the room, Cian made for the misfits.

A peculiar sensation came over Cian the closer he drew to the Fable in the corner. It was a prickle traveling up his spine. He couldn’t see any cause for alarm at the appearance of the Fable he approached, who was wearing dark yet appropriate attire. Still, as he came to a stop a polite distance away, the young heir couldn’t help but feel uneasy staring into the piercing blue eyes of the stranger.

“Halò. I’m Cian, heir of Herd Solasta. And you are?” He offered his hand for the formal greeting between Fable. He hoped the other wouldn’t notice the slight tremor of his fingers.

There was a pause. The blue-eyed Fable glanced at his hand but did not take it. “Timor.”

Why did he feel on edge? Cian lowered his hand. He smiled, although stiffly, attempting to lighten the mood. “A pleasure, Timor.” It wasn’t. “Have you… traveled far to attend?”

“Yes.”

“And, uh, pleasant travels, I trust?”

“The journey was uneventful.”

“Will y-you be staying in the area long?”

“I have not decided.”

“Ah.” Cian had grown increasingly anxious the longer they conversed. It was as if fear itself was manifesting between them and trying to get under his skin. His gaze flicked to the masses, hoping to spot a familiar face. Relief swept over him when he recognized a pair. “Well. I daresay I am being called. Do visit, Timor, if you should find yourself traveling through-the-Great-Wood-farewell!” He awkwardly raised his hand then dropped it just as quick. He surmised that the blue-eyed Fable would probably not accept the customary goodbye if he had not welcomed his hello. Instead, he hastily backpedaled, afraid to turn his back, and only looked away when there was a buffer of the crowd between himself and Timor.

“Steady on, Cian. You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

He relaxed at the sound of a friendly voice. Seated at a private table were many Fables he had not been acquainted with, one he did recognize, Sian, and the speaker, Llŷr. Cian moved stiffly to offer his hand to Llŷr. Unlike Timor, this Fable embraced his hand and performed the customary greeting of brushing Cian’s fingers on either side of his cheek before dropping the handhold. That act of friendly normalcy was all Cian needed to shake off the last of his anxieties.

“No apparition. Merely getting to know new faces,” he answered Llŷr honestly.

“Well, you can continue that quest with some refreshment for your troubles. Have a seat, Annwyl(dear).”

Cian did not protest, seating himself at the nearest open chair. He found himself the object of interest from three ladies, the other occupants of the table. “Halò,” he offered.

Llŷr gestured to each Fable as he made introductions, “You know my date, Sian. Then we have, Adoette, Serenity, and finally Chantilly.”

Sian shined among Fables like a polished jewel among stones. She made a statement with her two-toned locks: one side blanched white the other glossy gray. Adoette, Cian thought, had kind amber eyes and just as warm of a smile. Serenity had a grace about her. Perhaps it was her elegant pose, sitting straight with shoulders back and chin up. Chantilly, the nearest to him, exuded bashfulness. A blush blossomed on the Fable’s fair cheeks. He couldn’t fault her, he could feel the heat on his own face, being eyed by so many new faces made him uncomfortable too.

“Charmed, all.” Although he spoke to the table, his gaze was on his neighbor, Chantilly. “I’m Cian. Heir to Herd Solasta.”

“Cian is from the nearby Great Wood,” Llŷr added. "A lovely bit of country if you are ever so lucky to visit."

[BlueEyedKite]

An attendant appeared just long enough to pour burgundy liquid into silver chalices. Cian took the cup before him then took a hesitant sip. It was sweet and warmed his throat on the way down. This was definitely not like the lavender drink his family served their guests.

“A wood? How marvelous! What flora might I find on a walk?” Adoette asked, curiosity twinkling in her eyes.

Cian, not expecting a question directed his way, spilled his drink in his haste to set the chalice down. “Ah. Flora? Well, what would interest you, my lady?”

“Yes, his wood is practically wild! Adoette, your journal would overflow with the number of new species.” Llŷr played the gentleman by waving an attendant who carried a plate of sugared fruits and honey cakes. The sweets were received with delight by the sounds of happy murmurs around the table.

“All scientific curiosities interest me,” Adoette smiled sincerely at Cian. “Tell me, does your wood hold plants that bloom at certain times of the day?”

“Many, in fact. The moonflowers at sundown. My favorite is the morning glory. They open at the first rays of the day.”

“Are we discussing plants?” A masculine voice came from behind Cian. “Might my companion and I join your party?”

“The more the merrier,” Llŷr said brightly.

A Fable wearing flowy green attire sat on the far end of the table. Another joined him, this Fable wore the clothes of the working class: waistcoat and button-downs.

“I’m Gwin,” the one wearing green said in a surprisingly soft-spoken voice. “How do you do.”

There was a pause as everyone waited for the waistcoat-sporting Fable to make his introductions. His neighbor, Gwin, noisily cleared his throat.

“Mordecai.” The other finally spoke.

“Do plants interest you, Gwin?” Adoette wasted no time in politely engaging.

Cian, relieved of the spotlight, let his attention drift elsewhere. He watched the crowd out on the dance floor. He wondered if his betrothed was among the revelers. Faces were hard to make out as Fables drifted in and out of view in accord to a circular dance.
As the song ended, a group broke through the crowd and made their way across the ballroom. All were dressed in the lavish garments of high society. Cian had never seen more richly ornamented Fables. He sat up straighter, as if bracing himself, as the trio came to stand by the helm of their table.

“Enjoying refreshments I see. I trust all is to your liking?” the obvious leader of their party addressed them. He stood subtly just ahead of his group. Long, luxurious hair spilled over one shoulder, Cian could smell the expensive perfumes wafting from those locks even from his seat furthest away.

“We are positively spoiled by the luxuries you’ve provided, Lord Lórien,” Sian spoke graciously, confidently.

So, this was the Fable who offered his home for their seasonal celebration. Cian surveyed the lord’s entourage. To Lórien’s right was a handsome Fable, though by his subdued expression—looked a bit bored. The Fable to the lord’s left had a princely aura about him. His clothes practically sparkled with gold embellishment against shining white silk.

“Who are your companions, Lord Lórien?” Llŷr rose from his seat to offer his hand in formal greeting, “I have not had the pleasure of their acquaintance.”

“Address me as just Lórien, if you please.” Lórien was first to take Llŷr’s hand. Then he gestured to the two on either side of his person. “These are my honored guests, Nedrin,” the bored Fable gave a lazy tilt of his chin when mentioned, “and O’roq.” The princely Fable moved with a grace Cian rarely witnessed when he offered his hand to Llŷr.

“Shouldn’t we return to the dance floor,” The bored Fable, Nedrin, directed his question at the lord. “We have many promised partners to attend to.”

“Can I tempt anyone from this fine party to dance with me?” O’roq pressed closer to the table when he asked this.

“I’ll oblige.” Adoette stood.

With the lady rising, everyone else at the table rose as well. Lórien took his companion’s lead by offering his hand to Cian’s neighbor, Chantilly. “Would you dance with me, miss?”

“Chantilly,” the blushing Fable’s face burned a deeper shade of red, if it were possible. “I-I would like that very much, lord—um, I mean to say, Lórien.”

Before Cian’s eyes the table coupled off. Llŷr led his date, Sian, to the dance floor. Nedrin secured the only other lady without a dance partner, Serenity. Gwin and Mordecai were deep in conversation, though to Cian, it did appear heavily one-sided with Gwin passionately discussing the many breeding varieties of roses.

With no other distractions, the young heir felt he could not put off the inevitable any longer. He would locate his betrothed. Introduce himself. Then he would be free to enjoy the rest of the evening. But where to look? Surely a Fable in such high standing would not be loitering by the misfit wall. The dance floor… Cian had a gut feeling it would be a lost cause to search there. By the far end of the ballroom then, nearest the musicians.

Resolutely, Cian made his way across the room, following the sounds of lute and tambourine. His back nearly scraped the wall when he reached a bottleneck of Fables spectating the dance floor. ‘Pardon me’s and other apologies were no match for the wall of bodies. Just when he feared he’d have to backtrack, a lady wearing a stunning champagne gown, grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him through the mass of Fables. When he turned to thank his good samaritan, he was alarmed to find the crowd had already closed in the gap behind him.

He glimpsed him in the edge of his vision. He knew it was him before he fully turned.

Unknown to all but his father, Cian harbored a shameful secret. He had been born with forbidden arts: blood magic. The blood in his veins could heal or, if he willed it, could hurt. His lifeblood obeyed him, or, so he had thought, up until a strange sensation took over.

ba-dm ba-dm

He was used to the sensation of his blood buzzing with energy. As if static charge coursed through his body. But never, not until now, did his blood seem drawn in any particular direction. Forward.

ba-dm ba-dm ba-dm

Cian knew what he would find, even if he did not understand. His betrothed.

Feet away was a small gathering. He recognized the neutral garb of advisors and attendants. This must be Herd Vallor’s retinue. Cian dragged his gaze to the center of the group.

ba-dm ba-dm ba-dm ba-dm

It was a Fable not uncommonly tall, Cian thought he might be taller, but there was a commanding presence about him. Cian walked towards him like he were moving through water, sluggish, his legs feeling heavy. He couldn’t stop himself from drinking in every detail of the Fable before him. He had dark skin, a warm shade of brown. Not unlike damp clay awaiting the potter. Cian could not make out his eyes, they were downcast. He moved on to admiring the mane, unruly yet not. Curls that fell in just the right way to frame his face, like they were designed so. He wore a deep red cloak that obscured much of his figure. More red and tones of deep brown were the colors of his attire. He could be any noble from any high-ranking herd. But, this was him.

Coming to a halt, Cian opened his mouth to speak. He inadvertently inhaled the most intoxicating scent. Rich, amber notes. Whatever he was about to say was wiped cleanly from his thoughts.

“You have an audience, heir of Vallor.” The attendant nearest his betrothed, spoke.

The other’s gaze lifted. Cian was staring eye to eye. He saw sclera as red as blood. Irises dual shades of blue and gold. The effect of the many colors was dazzling.

“I am heir of Herd Vallor,” his tone was cool, giving away nothing, no underlying emotions. “Kleio.”

Kleio. So that was his betrothed’s name. Cian held onto that name like a life raft in a storm. He fought to ignore the pounding of his heart, the singing of his blood magic. He was determined to get through this bizarre introduction in one piece.

“I’m heir of Herd Solasta,” he thought his voice betrayed him, he could hear the slight tremor. “Cian.”

It was subtle. Blink and you would miss it. Kleio’s jaw tightened for just a moment, then his expression returned to the impassable mask. He mechanically raised his right hand. “Solasta? Our herds share a long-reaching history.”

Cian did not think. He took the offered hand. He did not dwell on the electric feeling at the point of contact between them. He was so focused on completing the customary greeting, ignoring everything, he blundered. Instead of brushing Kleio’s fingers on either side of his cheeks, as was formal, he brought their handhold higher and felt fingers dust his lips. A practice reserved for intimate greetings.

He quickly dropped Kleio’s hand, but not before he saw the other’s eyes widen in surprise. Cian needed to bring the focus off his mis-step, quickly. “I’ve heard much about Herd Vallor. I’d love to learn more, from a first-hand source. Will you be staying in the area long?”

“I’ve not been given leave for leisure.”

“For business then. You must tour the Great Wood.” This could be your future home according to our herds’ politics, he did not add but thought.

“I’m afraid not, heir of Solasta.”

“Call me Cian.”

“Cian.”

He said his name with an accent. Not an unwelcome quirk. They were sizing each other up when the jovial tune of flute and tambourine gave way to a sweet serenade of strings. Cian broke eye contact first to assess the dance floor. Couples slowly spun in clockwise circles. A notion came over him.

“Care to dance, Kleio?” He held out a hand towards the heir of Vallor.

“I don’t—” his words halted, perhaps stuck in his throat.

“It is customary,” Cian pressed, smiling, “at a ball.”

Silence hung between them. Kleio took the offered hand. His fingers were cold against Cian’s skin abuzz with magic. “Very well.”

Cian led his betrothed through the crowd. He used his taller size to split the sea of dancers, carving out a space for them. For all his reservations, Kleio was surprisingly graceful as he turned to face Cian. He also did not need prompting to get into the correct pose of one arm resting on Cian’s shoulder, the other hand still grasped by his dance partner.

“You’ve practiced,” Cian couldn’t keep the amusement out of his voice.

“I’ve practiced all duties expected of an heir,” Kleio replied matter-a-fact.

They turned, slowly, with the flow of couples. Cian led the movement. He was admiring his dance partner, he couldn’t help it. What could possibly be more worthy of his attention?

“You’re not as tall as I expected.”

Kleio actually snorted. “No? I’m sorry to disappoint.”

Cian doubted that he meant the apology. They revolved one full circle before Kleio looked up from the ground and met his gaze.

“I thought you would have better manners.”

The young heir of Solasta had to laugh. Two short chuckles, like the delight was forced out.

“I didn’t mean any offense,” Kleio added hastily.

“No, no. Your candor is appreciated.” Cian grinned good-naturedly. “I thought I would have better manners too.”

They danced a full circuit. Conversation was light, polite. They traded pleasantries about their herds territories. Cian discovered they were both prone to strolling under tree canopies. By the end of the song, he was sure Kleio would have enjoyed a visit to the Great Wood. He reiterated his offer of a tour. The heir of Herd Vallor again, graciously declined. They parted ways then. Cian remained on the fringes of the dance floor, watching the other Fable go.

Bishop was the first of his friends to find him, at the conclusion of the ball. “Well, don’t leave me in suspense. What was he like?”

“Formal.” Cian had a bad habit of searching the crowd. “Polite.” He blinked then looked over at his friend. “Traditional.”

“Dull, eh?” Bishop clapped Cian on the shoulder. “Perfect match for you, my friend.”

Cian tried to ruffle Bishop’s hair, but the Fable had already ducked away from his reach. He was left on his own then. Still smiling from the tease. His grin transformed into something softer. Kleio.

ba-dm ba-dm