Eikasia Chapter Preview…What number was it again? Do you care?

So here is the chapter preview for…the next…Eikasia update….

…It’s bad when I can’t remember what number I’m at, right? OH MY GOD. WTH. SOMEONE SLAP ME. RIGHT NAO.

(shut up and take this preview before I change my mind!)

—–

When the dark came over them, whole and impenetrable, Hakeem ceased moving. When he looked back behind him, he saw no light. In their home world, this would be impossible—they hadn’t traveled far from the edge of the forest. But this was the Other Place, and it was a half-world, fraught with magic. This was a supernatural darkness.

 

He opened his mouth to mention this when—

 

“I can’t see!” That was Nyx. Her voice was tight with sudden panic. She sounded far away.

 

“Nyx?” Elmiryn. She was behind him.

 

“Get off my foot, idiot!” Quincy. She was to his right. Perhaps a few steps.

 

“Stay calm,” he said, reaching toward his wife. His hand swiped through air.

 

“Elle!?” Nyx again. Her voice traveled and he heard brush being disturbed. “Elle, where’d you—ah!” There was a thud.

 

“Cajeck!” Kali, now. “Stop stumbling around like that!”

 

“Nyx, you’re going the wrong way!” Elmiryn called. Now she was on Hakeem’s immediate left.

 

“In case you haven’t noticed, Kali, we can’t see anything. Historically this has never been a good thing!” Nyx snapped.

 

“Elmiryn, gods damn it, get off my foot!” Quincy snarled.

 

The warrior’s response was tight with laughter. “Wizard, I’m not even touching you!”

 

“Then…Then what–?”

 

“ELMIRYN!!” It was Nyx again. Hakeem heard sharp snapping sounds, like threads breaking.

 

“Nyx!? Nyx!” Hakeem felt Elmiryn shove past him.

 

The Fanaean covered his face with both his hands, a groan coming up his throat. “Everyone just calm down…”

 

A scuffle. It sounded like snapping wood. Hakeem couldn’t pin point the source.

 

“Nyx? Where the hell—?”

 

“R-Right here, Elle.” Nyx’s voice was small. “I just…it was moss. Just…uh…moss.”

 

Kali’s voice was a disgruntled grind. “A Champion of Survival, and she still can’t stand the feel of hanging vegetation.”

 

“It was scary vegetation! Okay!?”

 

“Kitten…” Elmiryn’s relief was apparent even amidst layers of exasperation.

 

Hakeem spoke loudly. “If all you women are finished being silly—”

 

“Hey, midget.” The gentle tone vanished as the warrior’s voice steeled. “I don’t care how little you are, I will kick you in the cod piece.”

 

He cleared his throat, clasping his hands in front of him. “Noted. I just wanted to let you all know that I recognize what’s happening.”

 

“And what is happening exactly?” Kali asked.

 

“We’re deep inside a magical edge effect.”

 

“A…what?”

 

“Are you familiar with the legend of the blackwood?”

 

“I am.” That was Elmiryn. Her voice had turned somber. “It was the forest of devils.”

 

Hakeem smiled in the dark. “Yes. The forest was famous for its ability to separate the color spectrum.”

 

“Aesutan used it to clothe himself in the ways of the universe.” Elmiryn’s voice was virtually a whisper now.

 

Hakeem frowned at this as he resumed. Was that a note of realization in her voice? “Yes…Meaning color can be manually manipulated.”

 

“Someone made a barrier of the color black!” Nyx exclaimed.

 

“Actually, black is the absence of color, and as color simply makes up the spectrum of light then it’s absence means—”

 

“We can’t see,” the Ailuran finished. “Fascinating! And…troublesome.”

 

“Very good, ikati. You’re correct. We should–” Hakeem broke off as his body tensed. Something just occurred to him.

 

“Hakeem? Is something the matter?”

 

The Fanaean waved his hands through the dark, trying to feel his way. “Mweze? Are you there? Mweze?”

 

“Oh. Oh no! That’s right, Quincy hasn’t said anything for nearly a minute,” Nyx murmured.

 

“What’s the problem?” Elmiryn asked. “She does that all the time!”

 

“Yes, but she does that with a level of menace that tells of a desire to hit you. That feeling’s noticeably absent.”

 

“When you say ‘you’—”

 

“I’m referring to you, Elmiryn.”

 

“I…you know, for once I have nothing to say to that.”

Going Gone

Soooo…still sitting on Chapter 25.2.  I’m hating it just way too much to stand posting it right now.  Hopefully I’ll post it soon.  Here’s a little preview to tide you over.  Just an FYI, this is subject to change:

Doorways carved from conflict led to new ways of thinking.

She was fretting over the ideas of freedom in the face of the materialist reality, where the senses were just the slaves of perception, and emotion was but an aftertaste of sensation.  It was philosophical conjecture that had marooned on the shores of her mind, a castaway of a noble education.  Idealism versus materialism. Materialism believed that there was an objective world that existed outside of the mind and spirit, not only known through senses, but through tools and science as well.  Idealism believed the opposite, and stated that nothing existed outside of the mind.

The first time she’d heard of the concepts at the age of seventeen, she remembered feeling the sunlight and savoring it.  She’d only stopped dozing when her instructor had used a burning home as an example for that day’s lesson.

What if they (the students) had walked through the door of a burning building?  They could feel the heat, see the brilliance of the fires, smell the smoke…but was it all really there?  Was the environment and the dangers therein illusions of the mind?  The objective world was a thing of sense, but reports had come of individuals capable of ignoring such physical tethers through sheer willpower.  Magic, too, was always reshaping the environment–was that part of the material world, then?  Or was it further proof that their world was just a projection from their animus, and they could shape it to their will if only they could find such control?

Elmiryn remembered feeling intrigued, though her only question had been–

“And what about death?  When you die, do you vanish, or does the world cease to exist?”

Her instructor–she had forgotten his name now–only chuckled and said, “Well I suppose it depends on how strongly you believe your own perceptions?”

The next day, her instructor had been dishonorably removed and replaced by another man, who went on talking about Halward’s supremacy like he were reading from a script, and the redhead had resumed her adolescent apathy towards her studies with zeal.

Imageless memories blurred into her present and confused her momentarily.  Elmiryn gave her head a shake and her mind cleared enough to take in the scope of her situation.

She and Sedwick had gone to the first place they thought they could help–A half-timbered house that billowed smoke and flames with a woman screaming hysterically outside.  Kind folk tried to comfort her, to take her to safety, but she fought them, screaming, “My family!  My family is in there, dear gods, please!!“

Elmiryn was deep in the reaches of that very home, aware on some level that it’d been dangerous and foolish, but it had drawn her there.  She could hear Sedwick shouting at her further away as he sent his water into the raging flames.  She…had hardly thought about it this time.  She’d just approached the inferno and pushed the flames aside with a thought, moving through the destroyed facade, a feeling like a fresh breeze greeting her before the notion was swallowed in the fury of the fires.

The ruined buildings around them were solid, real, and stark.  The gutted giants of mortar and metal were stained hot by the fury of great big beasts, creatures who were too enthralled by their larger-than-life dramas to stop and take notice of the little skulls they crushed beneath a deadly step.  They had weight.  They were mammoths of life.  Did might make right, here?  Was their spirit stronger than the collective belief?  Could she withstand such a reality?

Also Eikasia will be entering a HIATUS starting May 23.  The tentative return date is July 17th.

Cheers!

Chapter 8.2 Preview

Last Friday really was just a slip up on my part.  I got so caught up with school and plans for the weekend that I just plain forgot to update. (I’m terrible!)  Anyways, here’s a preview of Chap 8.2:

In the quiet twilight hours of the day, when glowing embers danced and flew to a paper sky, Elmiryn would hold her breath.  The watercolor shades and the cut-out stars would not burn, would not burn–no matter how much she wished to see heaven; and it would be between the spaces of wishes such as those where she rediscovered common sense.  It always skulked in the nighttime, bent-over and sullen without the glare of the suns to illuminate its homesteads–Science, Ethics, and Magical Principle.  The homes of common sense were becoming decrepit, but they still stood, and it was with a self-deprecating snort that she remembered:

People only have one set of eyes.

No gaze could be switched or swapped for another, not even in magic.  Not as far as she knew. (and she questioned what she knew frequently these days)

But at the time, it didn’t occur to her.  Nyx stared, or half-stared, along with all the rest in the room.  Elmiryn looked back at them and smiled unapologetically.  “Well, it’s obvious isn’t it?”

Den put his hand on his hips, a queer action the warrior thought, and squinted at her.  “What do you mean?”  His mouth was a little open as if breathing through it would bring words to him quicker.  It seemed an annoying habit of men to breathe more harshly either through the nose or mouth when agitated.  Not everything required them to brace themselves, after all, Elmiryn thought.

Nyx went to sit on the bed…no…could that constitute as sitting?  More like falling.  Yes, she fell on the bed and managed to land upright.  Mismatched eyes stared across the room to the outside where still water fell, just as she had.  And what did the Other One think, in her dark place of unbeing…?

…Did the walls breathe, where she lived, as they did for Elmiryn?

That’s what I have so far.  Remember, it’s subject to change.  

Phew…I have midterms this week, but we’ll see if it turns out.  Till next time, take care all.

It’s raining.

So my reasons for not updating?  Well I’m not entirely comfortable discussing them on the net, but put simply, I was faced with a dilemma that robbed me of whatever motivation there was for writing.  But I think I’m getting over it.  I’m working on the chapter again (and toying around with an idea that could cause general geekery among you all.)  But since I’m SO overdue, here’s my chapter preview.  This part is pretty much guaranteed to be left in the posted draft, but I actually deleted a large portion today to purse a better path.

I curled in the sheets of a massive bed that wasn’t mine.  I heard patters on the window.  Fat drops of water abused the panes with such gusto that my eye creaked open.  I heard people laugh outside.  At first it was hard for my sleepy-head to grasp why, but then it became clear.

I sat up and tried to blink the sleep from my eyes.

It was raining at Gamath.

I kicked the sheets away and placed my bare feet on the wooden floor, my face turned long with wonder at the sight of the bespeckled glass–the view through which revealed to me indefinite forms that danced and shifted.  I stood, my legs only somewhat affected by my fleeting sleepiness.  I swayed a little as I crossed the room, and the partial light lanced my sensitive eyes.  Forced to squint, I tried to shield my face with a hand, and it was through parted fingers that I saw a phantom drift toward the window.  

They wore only a soaked white nightgown and their auburn hair was left to hang in wet locks about their angular face.  Even through the changing mosaic of rain, I could make out wide cerulean eyes that didn’t blink or falter in their stare.

“Elmiryn.” I called, hoping she heard me through the glass.

She reached a hand up and placed it on the window.  Her lips moved and I could hear her voice through the rain, but didn’t catch what she said.  I shook my head and stepped closer, where I leaned on the window sill for support.  My breath fogged the glass.  “What did you say?”

The woman laughed and shook her head.  She gestured for me to come outside and began to walk away.

I tapped on the glass and tried to call her back, but then decided I was being silly about it.  Rain wouldn’t kill me.  I ran to get my shoes and was about to rush out the door when something occured to me.

Elmiryn was standing outside in nothing but her nightgown.

 Wet from head to toe.

I was thinking I’d post the writing exercise I was doing the other day, just for kicks.  You guys get to see Nyx tear me a new one.  Yay!  And I may post that Elmiryn drawing I was doing a while ago.  No it isn’t finished, but I said I’d post it…

Okay, that’s all I have right now, really.  Here’s to hoping I can make it this week!

Chap 7.4 teaser

Hello you folks.  I believe Chap 7.4 to be largely finished.  I still have to read over it and edit, but here’s something to tide you over:

She shut the door and I heard the snap of the lock.  I picked myself off the floor and wiped at my swollen eyes.  Elmiryn turned to stare at me from across the room, and we both fell quiet as our gazes met.  The firewood cracked and popped in the fireplace as a glowing peice fell away to the ash covered floor.  My hands raised to touch the collar of my tunic before I once again became aware of the layout of the room.  Not wanting the bed between us as I undressed, I gestured for the woman to come closer.

“You’ll see better with the firelight.” I said quietly.

Elmiryn came closer, a soft frown on her face as she moved around the bed to stand near me.  She stopped a foot away and placed her hands on her hips.

I bowed my head and turned so that my back was to her.  “It took them a little over a day to finish the design.  The man who did it…I grew up with him.  He was an apprentice learning the ways of the shamanites.  He wasn’t allowed to stop or rest until the Mark was finished.” I pulled the tunic over my head.  My arms felt weak and shook as I struggled to be freed from the fabric.  The air felt unwelcoming to my shoulders, and goosebumps spread across my skin.  When my tunic fell before my feet I stopped and took a deep breath.

I couldn’t deny it, I still felt hesitant.  All that was left to remove was the bandage that wrapped my breasts.  It wasn’t too late to try and stop this.  Unless the bandage was removed, the most important aspect of my brand would not be seen.

But my hands were already moving without my consent.  They undid the bandage with fumbling fingers, and before I registered it, the wraps had fallen away.  My arms crossed over my front and I squeezed my eyes shut.

Am I being a tease?  

…..NAH.

I haven’t really much to add.  Just remember to follow my twitter account for day-to-day updates on Eikasia…as well as whatever the heck else that may be distracting me.

Apologies!

So I guess I was thrown for more of a loop then I thought, and as is usually the case with me, my weekend was rather busy.  I think part of the reason I dislike the chapter as it is right now is because it feels like its lacking some scenes, and it’s also feeling like it needs a POV change.  (I’ve been doing it from Elmiryn’s POV the whole time)

Here’s a portion of what I have so far:

Elmiryn’s hands still tingled with the feeling of her companion’s throat in her hands, the pulse against her thumb, the light sheen of sweat that had made her palms cool when the air kissed it. Involuntarily, she imagined how the throat would hum under her hand if the girl could speak without impediment. Maybe it was indeed possible to catch sound by hand? To possess that voice and keep it as a pet, when the nights got cold and the hours long…it was such an enticing idea. Once it was in her possession, she could use it when she didn’t feel like being herself.

Then moral sensibilities, stunted, but still present, objected.

Nyx had carried her unconscious body more than a mile, and had remained at her side when she was comatose–what kind of repayment was strangulation?

But those memories…those precious, vivid memories. They were so real to Elmiryn, moreso than the world she drifted through now. In them, she had felt connection; in them, she had a voice that carried sincerity.  

At seeing that these things were no longer hers to have, she had hollered for wine and drank half-a-bottle’s worth with little pause. Then she vomited it all up, because she thought the wine was blood. She had tried to stand, and lost her balance. Nyx tried to keep her in bed but Elmiryn became agitated, wild-eyed, and asked why the covers were so dangerously heavy. 

That first day, she refused to lay in the bed. Instead, she sat in the corner on the floor and alternated between drinking rum and water. Food was repulsive to her. She thought the steak they gave her had pulsed in her mouth, and the rice felt like ants on her tongue.

I apologize guys.  Like I said, I just got really thrown for a loop.

Am I short, or is this horse just too damn big…?

So hopefully some of you are still sticking around.  If not, I’d understand–a site that doesn’t update just doesn’t seem worth bothering with.  But I’d like to let you all know that I’m making efforts to resume work editing.  I’m also going to make an effort to resume the story.  Probably more effort for the latter considering the amount of time that has passed.

Gosh, so what the heck have I been up to!?  To be honest, not much…job hunting, like so many in America.  Making plans for community college.  Making books and journals from scratch.  Perhaps spending more creative energy than I should into LARPing (live-action-roleplaying).  I’ve also been healthily distracted by movies, games, books, boys and the silly messes they bring with them…

BUT!  (and this is one hell of a ‘but’, my friends) I’ve been making gradual progress over the last month in getting the next installment done.  It’s sad that this couldn’t have atleast happened BETWEEN adventures instead of near the tail-end of one.  Though I think I made some progress in my editing, and perhaps even improved my understanding of Nyx and Elle.

Now I’m not just blowing smoke up your asses.  Really, just see for yourself:

I was the defiler, there. The clumsy heathen whose ragged breath and befuddled feet made a mess of things. All around me was dead. I was a perversity whose future was mirrored in the gray stunted world. My trail was marked by the clouds of ash that came up into the air. These little clouds drifted a yard or two as swirls of currents that traced pale lines through the air, before they blanketed the corpses of animals. Milky eyes glared at me accusingly as I made my way.

Blood stained me. The quilted weave of my gambeson was tainted, the rips that marred it like wounds themselves. I could even feel a breeze in my left boot. The sole had begun to separate at the tip.

My muscles loathed me, and quivered beneath the strains of my commands, as if they had to remember that I was their master. When exhaustion sought to overcome me, I would kneel in the desolation and try to catch my breath. My eyes tunneled, and sweat dripped from the dip of my nose. In my arms, Elmiryn’s lanky body barely seemed to fit into my grip. Her head was cradled against my bosom, eyes shut and her breath faint. Her eyes were red and raw, and her skin a terrible pale complexion. If I stared at her long enough, I thought I could make out her eye sockets shifting…but then it occured to me that it could just be a trick of my eyes.

All the while, in my head, things that were not mine prodded me. I saw battles, recalled feelings, felt sensations that were not mine–not even my counterpart’s. Some of these things, these memories, were Elmiryn’s, I knew…but I made an effort not to pay it any mind. It threatened me, revulted me. My head seemed barely capable handling two personas, how could I stand the memories of others, however feeble?

Every time I felt myself too enthralled with a particular thought, every time I felt myself come too close to empathizing with a memory, I moved. Forced myself forward in sloppy standard, like a drunkard startled out of his settlement. It worked, to some degree. I didn’t drown in what wasn’t mine. But still, things slipped through, and I kept returning to nagging details…

I’m going to put a big phat general disclaimer on that one.  It’s subject to change and edits, as always.

One thing that helped me get my groove back was an awesome music playlist…which I worked tirelessly to perfect over the course of four days.  Some of the songs I chose on the basis of mood, subject matter, and style.  Clearly, some of those songs seem out of place (Nirvana, what?) but some of them reminded me of things completely relevant.  I avoided songs that just sounded cool or catchy.  I had other playlists for that.  This one was put together with a goal.  There’s an art to getting the chemistry of music just right.  For the curious birdies, here’s my playlist, in order–plus three songs from the list to hear:

1.  “The Creep Out” by The Dandy Warhols
2.  “Love is an Unfamilar Name” by The Duke Spirit
3.  “Joker & The Thief” by Wolfmother
4.  “The Devil In The Kitchen” by Ashley MacIsaac
5.  “Psycho” by Puddle of Mudd
6.  “So I need some fine wine, and you, you need to be nicer” by The Cardigans
7.  “Strange And Beautiful (I’ll Put A Spell On You)” by Aqualung
8.  “First Love” by Adele 
9.  “The Cave” by Jorane
10.  “La princesa Dolça de Provença“ by Trobar de Morte
11.  “Wake the Dead” by A Perfect Circle
12.  “Natural Blues” by Moby
13.  “Face in a Cloud” by Audio Bullys
14.  “Bottom Of The Lake” by The Builders And The Butchers
15.  “All Apologies” by Nirvana
16.  “The Hollow” by A Perfect Circle
17.  “Here Come the Bastards” by Primus
18.  “The Rage” by Judas Priest
19.  “The Trooper” by Iron Maiden
20.  “Jack Of Diamonds” by Sonic Syndicate
21.  “War?” by System Of A Down 
22.  “I Disappear (Metallica Goth Remix)” by Public
23.  “Wildcat” by Ratatat
24.  “May Day” by Unkle (featuring The Duke Spirit)
25.  “My Own Dirge” by Sxip Shirey

“The Cave” by Jorane

This one made me think a lot about Nyx and an important moment in her past…which you’ll all be familiar with soon enough.

“The Trooper” by Iron Maiden

This one makes me think alot of Elmiryn and the battles she’s experienced…but it also made me think of the time Nyx snuck to a battlefield when she was young and saw the dead and dying.

“So I Need Some Fine Wine And You, You Need To Be Nicer” by The Cardigans

Elmiryn’s drinking habits. Easy.

Okay, that’s all the chatter I’ve got left in me. With luck, I’ll get this chapter up before another month goes by. (no, really, I’m trying for this Friday.) Till next time, remember to check twitter and the RSS feed for updates!

EDIT:  Wow, I sound like a grade schooler giving automatic answers…”This story made me think of the, uh, stuff that was…y’know, important.”  It’s almost midnight, I’m allowed some ineloquence, darnit!  Oh, but I meant to pip in that the embed players are being a little weird, so if they aren’t working for you, just try reloading the page…or going here, where coincidentally I have two more songs to listen to–  http://soundcloud.com/cajeck

Saludos!

La Pollera Colora – Charlie Zaa

Greetings from Panama!  Yes, your reclusive writer is latina, and by the time she returns to the states, she shall be a sexy bronze!  …Or not.  Ha, anyways, I was working on the chapter but it is still short of being finished.  Just to prove I’m not full of shit, I’m giving you folks a preview.  Till next time.

To call it pain would’ve been…incorrect. It transcended that base definition, that shallow understanding. It was intense, it was debilitating, yes. But pain? No. More like…

Euphoria.

Her veins were the guardian’s veins; her thoughts, the guardian’s thoughts.

The spiritual creature’s flesh was not immediately invasive. They first canvased her skin. Then they pushed past the muscles–split them, pierced them–to get to the organs inside. Elmiryn felt the tendrils in her chest, knew they wrapped and mingled with her heart, her lungs, her stomach, her spine. She spasmed. Tried to scream and failed for the guardian had filled her there too, and squirmed in her throat.

Was this rape? Was this murder?

Elmiryn’s sensations became unquantifiable. How best to describe the feeling of being killed and born at once? For with the euphoric domination of her body, came also the parting of her mind. Things that were not hers, bits and pieces, like the shining trinkets of Nyx’s bag, came spilling in.

A new beginning. It was the parting of a land drowned by rain and hail. A place was carved in the Earth, and with it, a duty to sustain life. Her sisters, the clouds, said unto her, “You are the veins of this land,” and she gushed.

[Flash.]

Fleeing through snow, breath a ghost, a dark form ahead of her as angry cries chased at her back. The one before her was not running from her, but with her.  

Barely old enough. None of it was fair. She knew it wasn’t, knew it in her soul.  

So she ran.

They wouldn’t take another brother away from her.

Subject to change, remember. Or subject to deletion, based on my editorial fancies. Heh, heh…

Digging Up Turnips

Sxip Shirey’s website, for curious birdies.  The above song can be downloaded for free there.

Hey there folks.  Just pipping in to let you know I’m still at it.  I’m hoping some of you have read my post on shapechanging which I posted only a few days ago.  I’m also here to bring you a chapter preview, as I doubt my ability to finish by tonight.  Today was a busy day for me–in a nice way mind you, but still busy.  I won’t bother with much excuses for being unable to update early Friday.  My addiction to Team Fortress 2 seems to have come back full swing, and I still have yet to even touch some of the other new computer games I recently bought so…well, I’m just a geeky mess.  Ha, ha.

Anyhoo, here’s your chapter preview.  If you’re wondering about the above song’s purpose, know that I’ve imagined the next installment’s events, scene by scene, insync with that song.  …I have an overactive imagination.

Elmiryn worked the Earth with blistered hands–like she was certain her ancestors did before they took to tools of a different kind. She knew the sun. She felt it like wings seared onto her back. Nevermind that she worked in the nude. The breeze felt nice on her flushed skin. A cool comfort in her tiring search…

…For turnips.

A curious impetus, but a dire one nevertheless. Dire why? Elmiryn couldn’t remember. Maybe because they were the ones who first put the word ‘impetus’ into her brain. She had to ask them what it meant.

Her rake was fashioned from iron and oak wood. Splinters. Biting, aggravating. They bothered her. She paused her activitiy to try and fish one out from the fleshy bend of her left thumb. “Stings like a mother,” she grumbled as she squinted at the tiny dark shaft she could see just beneath the layer of her skin. It scratched at her nerves. “Curs-ed lil’ shit.”

As usual, the above is subject to succumb to my editorial whims.  Till next time, folks.

This is a TOTALLY original and clever post title.

Oh wow…this week was kinda hard for me. Not because anything in particular happened. Just…well, put simply, these have been the worst mood swings I’ve ever suffered in all my years of being a girl. I haven’t felt like doing anything, I’ve been sick, and tired…and sore. And tired, and sick, and–it’s like a vicious cycle. Yesterday I was quite literally sitting at the bottom of my shower, staring off into space and wishing I could just put life on pause, then later that day I was high as a kite and happy as hell for no real reason at all. I’ve tried taking vitamins, drinking coffee, eating chocolate, and watching funny stuff, but it was all moot. This morning I woke up and felt like someone died. I guess I had a bad dream. Feeling better now though, so I guess I’m in one of those highs.

And to think, I’ve only got menopause to worry about when I get older.

Anyways, enough blathering. Here’s the chapter preview to prove that I’ve actually been doing something:

She told herself to scream, because she figured it would make her feel better. But where would that sound go, in this terrible place? What would that sound mean here? It hardly meant a thing to her, after all… She was dead. A ghost…right? So what did it mean when the sound of anguish curled out of her mouth like a desperate hand?

…Aw, who cares…

Elmiryn pushed herself upright, and her limbs shook with the effort. She came to an angle her spine disagreed with and fell back again, pain incising itself into her nerves. That dubious noise came to her lips once more, but rather than take flight, it clung there, shuddering, before it was lost in a sudden bark of laughter.

She had always wondered if Halvard, moral god, would see fit to cast her in some dank hell. Well…she got her answer. How could she have survived such a crash of water? It cast her into dark–shattered her completely beyond recognition, like glass, like a mirror…

Remember kiddies, it is subject to change, but you should all ready know that by now…