Selene's Freewriting.

Well, I probably won\'t be posting it everyday, but I will put up some of them. Most of what is posted will definitely be over 250 words, if not longer.

Maturity: Average, sometimes medium.
Fantasy: Average, sometimes medium.


Gallery:
March 5, 2010.
March 6, 2010.
March 8, 2010. (Story base.)
March 12, 2010. (Fannovel base.)
March 23, 2010.
April 1, 2010.
April 7, 2010.
April 8, 2010. (Fannovel base.)
May 29, 2010.

Maturity: Open ending, but possibility of "passage to the spirit world".
Fantasy: Mythology.


The young woman gently brushed her fingertips over the papyrus and parchment, slowly inhaling the stale air. Scrolls from Alexandria. Ancient artifacts, of literature and others, filled even the above ground tomb. Annelise withdrew her hand after a moment, gaze traveling around the room. Ornaments gleamed in the amber warmth of her lighter, casting a dim swath in the darkened room. Scattered beads rolled across the sandstone as she moved, some crumbling to colored dust.

Annelise paused, noticing an open vat of still valuable oil, as well as a long extinguished torch. The archeologist passed her lighter to her other hand, grasping the worn wooden handle and lifting it from its holder. Sour odor drifted upwards as she dipped it, before holding her flame near it. Fire sparked, and then burst into existence.

Her crystal blue gaze moved along the now brightened room, inquisitive. Still getting over the shock and excitement of her find, knowing the rarity of undisturbed tombs. So few remained untouched, already ravaged by thieves – Ancient and modern alike. Tutkhamun, young pharaoh though he may have been, had been one of the select few who’s eternal rest had survived in peace for decades, millenniums. Yet, there was no inscription, no name. Another pharaoh lost in the sands of time, perhaps.

The heels of her boots clicked on the sandstone as she moved forward once more, this time halting at the foot of the stairs. Carefully testing her weight on the desert rock, before making her way down. Silence surrounded her, lacking all of the supposed animal life other’s had found in tombs. A thin layer of dust and sand covered almost every step, though causing her to pause upon reaching the last one. Annelise brushed a loose umber lock out of her eyes as she raised her torch, almost but not quite touching her hand to the hieroglyphics decorating the wall.

Yet, while she was well versed enough in the language to piece things together, she could only make out one longstanding symbol. Ankh, the mark of eternal life. Her eyes shifted to the floor as she shifted her weight, feeling her boots brush something that felt quite different. She quirked a brow upon seeing nothing, before cautiously continuing to the next room.

What was this? Was it really a tomb? It was lacking almost all of the usual burial markings and gifts, even the artistic hieroglyphics that told the tales of lives. Instead, olden writing was painted onto and carved into the walls. The flickering of her torch brought her attention back to the corridor ahead of her, realizing she had been lowering it in thought. Annelise quickly raised it once more, though this time keeping it level. Writing continued to line her path, inscribed up and down almost every part of the wall. Two ushabti caught her eye as she turned, placed on either side of an opening. Usually tomb guardians, however, now she was not so certain. Their emerald eyes seemed to watch the intruding archeologist, golden scarab necklaces on the statues gleaming under the light.

Annelise’s hand lightly touched the winged scarab at her own throat, resting just above her collar bones. Her inspiration, her motivation. And now, once extinct unease was settling in her. Archeology and mythology always interested her. Why should she be finding this particular place intimidating, unsettling?

Shrugging it away, almost forcefully, the young woman slowly walked through the opening. Tensing slightly, upon seeing lit candles on the far side of the room. This time; proceeding more cautiously. The area had shown no signs of entrance outside, yet candles did not remain lit forever. Her eyes suddenly widened in astonishment – The faint pinprick of light moving further away with each step. “… Hello?” she inquired softly, shattering the silence. How had someone else gotten in? It wasn’t possible for the deities to remain ‘alive’. The days of olden priesthood were long over, too. And, even more importantly, who was it?

Almost inhuman curiosity now spurred the archeologist to continue following the light, against her better judgment. Annelise’s breath was steadily becoming shallower the longer she walked, even the stale air now coming welcome to her. With each corridor, her torch sinking lower and lower. Every turn leading her deeper into what seemed to be a labyrinth, countless other corridors springing up into her view almost every time.

By the time the light finally halted, weariness plagued her. Weak flames licked at the dark air, almost reduced to mere smoldering embers. Amber and now almost greenish light emitted from it, casting a pallid glow. “Hello?” she tried again, knowing that she was not imagining things. Lights did not move on their own; nor did candles stay lit for millenniums.

Another glow, however, caught her attention. A dark maroon. She slowly moved forward again, finally halting in front of what seemed to be an altar, or shrine. Vaguely clear writing still climbed the walls, though unreadable still. Her breath caught in her throat as she touched a hand to the large raised tablet, this time halting in shock.

“Feather of Ma’at … The ankh-staff of Anubis?” Annelise breathed, almost gaping at it. The lean staff was rested diagonally across the entire tablet, a faint maroonish aura emanating from the artifact. As if magical, bringing olden myths to life. She hesitantly finished extending her hand, fingertips only brushing the tempered metal.

Darkness engulfed her.

A faint whisper reaching her ears as she succumbed to unconsciousness, vaguely aware of a fine pelt brushing against what little skin was exposed. “… Perhaps it is time to join us, Banafrit …”

Spoiler:

Woah, that's totally creepy, in a good way. I'm glad I wasn't reading that at night. Nice job!

shadowsowner888 wrote:Woah, that's totally creepy, in a good way. I'm glad I wasn't reading that at night. Nice job!

Lolz, creepy? How so? *Smiles*

I'm glad that you liked it, though. *Huggles*

It's like, "The tombs are alive! "

Lolz, okay. I didn't look at it that way. I was thinking more along the lines of the resident deity/spirits, but then, I'm a practically a mythology addict, XD.

Maturity: Reference to a loved one, and death.
Fantasy: Immortality.

March 6, 2010.

Power.

A word so often misused and construed; so often open for debate. What is it? Magical might? Physical poweress? Armada standing or control? Or even terms of nobility and royalty? While there are many such conditions and changes, one thing remains clear – I hold plenty of it. I smile, running my fingertips along the tempered steel of my blade. Runes inscribed into the flat of it, carved into the metal.

‘Nightshade,
Darkness in cascade,’ it read, when translated. Named after the venomous plant, belladonna. Something equally dangerous. The Nightshade gleamed as I rotated it, now tracing my fingertips along the decorative hilt, watching the glinting black lodestone topping the pommel. The knife was said to be of legend and lore. So far, though, it hadn’t shown any real use. The only thing that made it hold value was the aura emitting from it, a faint violet.

“Milord?” an almost trembling voice inquired, causing me to glance up.

“… Yes?” I return calmly, arching a brow as I lean against the unyielding stone wall. The warrior’s boots click against the flagstone floor as he moves forward, his plain gray garments almost blending with his surroundings.

“Your other sector has found another artifact.”

“Good.”

“I trust the Nightshade has not yet been activated?”

“No … Not quite,” I said quietly, eyes narrowing. “I do not suppose that you’ve something else worthwhile to mention … What was the artifact?”

“According to the scholar’s drawings, it is the Sunsword,” the warrior said with equal control, tossing a scroll at me. I raise a hand, easily catching the rolled parchment. My smile returning upon stretching it out, recognizing what he was referring to. Not the ‘sunsword’, but the Salamandra. The blade’s true name, the name that holds the use.

“Very well. We may depart.”

After all … The Nightshade and Salamandra were meant to be a pair. Weapons capable of both destruction, and even healing. Something that someone of my race could always use. Immortality was only a name in itself – Our bodies may continue to remain unchanging, but it is not to say the same of humans. A select few that deserved the ‘immortality’, were usually the ones that teetered on the brink of the world of spirits.

Now I had an alternative.

Oooh, epic. :3

Those are AMAZING, Selene.

shadowsowner888 wrote:Oooh, epic. :3

*Huggles* Thank you. ^_^

rattyjol wrote:Those are AMAZING, Selene.

*blushes* XD, amazing? Wow, thanks. *huggles you*

You're amazing.

*Blushes* XD, thank you, Nightowl. I appreciate it.

You're welcome. Haha. I just really like your writing style.

*Huggles* Heh, thank you. ^_^

Shades of Gray base.

Maturity: Anger, baiting.
Fantasy: Magic, winged humans.



Kyra’s eyes remained hardened, raw rage simmering behind her amber glower. Regardless that it took energy to even use her last ‘weapon’, they had even confiscated her manega crystal upon the noble’s servant’s going through her garments. And to top matters off, she now had flowing skirts that restricted movement. Mocking of her position as a warrior. Why he was even bothering, rather than simply treat her like what most prisoners would be, was beyond her.

The dark cobalt material swayed as she moved, jaw clenching once more as the bindings on her wings refused to give when she attempted to stretch them. Lovely. Just lovely. Kyra combed her now freed hands through her shoulder length umber locks as they walked, though now smiling slightly at the servant’s disdain of the masculinity of her hair. The vast majority of males often had theirs at her length, after all.

Even so, her smile faded as they neared Lord Anias’s chambers, giving way to frustration once more. White plumaged warriors continued to surround her, making certain of giving no chance of escape. The young woman inwardly sighed, before once more slipping into a near emotionless façade when the door opened.

The heels of their boots clicked on the flagstone floor when they entered, before being muffled by the intricately woven rug. Anias smiled slightly upon looking up, rolling his scroll of parchment. “You do clean up nicely after all, Commander. Wonders what a healer and a bath can do,” he drawled, holding her gaze.

“I am a warrior – Not a prim lady to be stuffed in a dress,” Kyra hissed, venom dripping from her tone.

“My, my … So you can speak. And it seems you’ve quite the temper, as well,” the nobleman returned conversationally, pleased.

“Consider yourself fortunate.”

Lord Anias chuckled, amusement increased. “So I shall. We do have important matters to discuss, however,” he said quietly, though his own traveling gaze caused hers to move as well. Quelled anger sparked once more.

Her lance, as well as other belongings when captured, were openly displayed across his table. Even her birthright. The manega crystal gleamed in the candlelight, its opalescent glow visible against the dark wood. Yet, he had a purpose for displaying them, no doubt. Baiting? “… Know ahead of time that you shall learn naught. I refuse to betray my people.”

As I said in the freewrite discussion thread, lovely job. x3 I love that Kyra has so much personality.

shadowsowner888 wrote:As I said in the freewrite discussion thread, lovely job. x3 I love that Kyra has so much personality.

Hehe, thanks. ^_^

Yeah, Kyra is pretty open with her personality most of the time. But, believe it or not, the title of SoG is applied quite thoroughly with the entire cast. It could be very difficult to discern who is the "good" and "bad" guys, by the time everything is all said and done.

Sweet. :O

LoZ: Crescent Light Chronicles base.

March 12, 2010

Selena’s gaze trailed over her surroundings as she walked, hands clasped in front of her. A gentle breeze blew through the gardens, wafting the scent of other flowers and mint leaves towards her. She smiled slightly, the wind toying with her loose electrum tresses. Yet, her smile fading with the breeze.

The young woman sighed, head bowing. There was much to do, and little time to do so in. Time was running out, even if the Guardians were located and their Guardianships activated.

Mixed cobalt and silver-blue aura slowly formed in her palm as she raised it, using the magical glow to cast a light on the past in front of her. The heels of her boots clicked on the cobblestone path as she moved, lush grass poking up between the stones. One hand slowly reached upwards after a moment, curling around the trio of crescent moons on her recently received pendant.

Yet, sharply looking up upon feeling another essence. This one rather like Kent’s; but also in stark contrast. Emotions seemed masked, even. Selena paused momentarily, hesitating. The silver-blue aura slipped entirely into cobalt. The color of her offensive and defensive magic, and her own essence according to her late mother.

“It is all right, Selena,” a familiar voice murmured from behind her, causing the mage to pivot, startled. Shadow. It was odd, that she was unable to sense him as easily as the others.

“… Is something troubling you?” the young woman queried after a moment, arching a brow. It seemed as if Shadow had much on his mind, his crimson stare almost boring through the blue and white clad mage.

“No … Not really,” the black clad warrior shrugged, before offering a plain brown cloak to her. “It seems rather chilled out, though. As you are our healer, it wouldn’t do for you to come down ill, would it?” Shadow added, shaking his head.

Selena flushed slightly, before accepting it without comment. Her gaze remained locked on his, pondering. This time nudging at her ability, attempting to read his essence. Puzzlement, irritation, musing, and the like were discernable after a moment of focus. “Perhaps … If there is something I may do to assist you, Shadow, know that I shall. I prefer to see others in good spirits …” the mage said softly, briefly bowing her head towards him as she stepped back.

Shadow quirked a brow, as if startled. “I suppose I shall keep that in mind … Thank you, Selena,” he returned, this time equally quiet. Lacking his usual brusqueness, dropping the usual mannerisms of a hardened warrior. Murmuring something under his breath, though not quite aware of doing it apparently. She stepped back after a moment, deciding to leave him to his thoughts. Having only caught one word said naught for what he was thinking, though it would be rude to intervene.

She lightly touched one hand to his shoulder, before offering a small smile and continuing on her way through the overgrown and forgotten garden.

Hey, that's me in there!

Lol, awesome job. x3 You always do such a great job with details.

Lolz. Shadow, as in Shadow Link, XD.

*Blushes.* Thank you. I'm glad that you're enjoying my freewrites so far. ^_^

*Huggles.*

xD Too bad, I still insist it was me.

:3 *huggles back* Swelcome!

Lolz, okay~. I'll let you do that, XD.

*Smiles*

I seem to have fallen behind on posting my freewrites. Sorry about that, XD. Here is today's:

Maturity: Bow and arrows?
Fantasy: Elven girl.

March 23, 2010

Gentle winds swept through the glade, rustling the overhead leaves. Sunlight streamed through the natural canopy, warmth dotting the still cool spring turf. A slight smile touched Selene’s lips as she allowed her hands to drop into her lap, the breeze playing with her long electrum tresses as she leaned back from her meditative position. The first few days of spring truly were a treat. A single sweet smelling cherry blossom tree bloomed in the center of the clearing, a vibrant burst of color amidst the lush green.

The young woman pushed herself up after a moment, fingers curling around the smooth wood of her bow as she stood. Prolonged meditation did not help with practicing, to say the least. She pulled one of the few arrows from her quiver, before slowly notching it and taking stance.

Well oiled wood bent underneath the drawstring’s pull, Selene attempting to ignore the strain of her protesting arms. While her original beginner’s bow only had fifty pounds of pressure upon striking, her new one had triple that. It was doubtful she’d be pulling a longbow anytime soon. Selene then shook her head, refocusing her silver-blue gaze on the target she’d hung across the clearing for practice. A sharp ‘twang’ cut through the morning air.

It grazed the bottom red ring, vanishing into the trees. Cursing soon followed. Selene blanched, lowering her bow. Uh-oh.

Lol, I've been lazy with posting mine, too. xD

Electrum? :O What color might be this? Goldish?