Its Not That Bad. I, As A Native English Speaker, Constantly Mix Up P And B. Writing, Typing, Wherever.

It’s not that bad. I, as a native english speaker, constantly mix up p and b. Writing, typing, wherever. It’s a mistake that constantly plagues me

Guess who just spelled "well" with a V? That's right, me, the person who claims to know English ~vell~ enough to write in it.

Oh I love them both so much

Eli Eli Eli!!!!

Following the same style as Ambrose earlier this week:

Once I finish Dawn’s portrait, I’ll post all of these more formally, with some little snippets that go with each of them! I expect them to go up this weekend.

Tough Characters laughing is one of my favourite things. I was smiling as hard as Ambrose that whole time. So sweet!

Rival Potion Shops: Laughter

Another one in Eli’s POV, because what can I say- Eli’s heart eyes give me joy. Maybe they’ll give you some joy, too.

Synopsis: Dawn can make Ambrose laugh. Eli wants to see it.

Word Count: 439

TW/CW: food mention

They found themselves squished into a tiny booth in the back of the tavern, thanks to a sudden influx of plains adventurers into the Scar. An unusual giant migration had led many a fighter down into the chasm, on what was meant to be a sleepy weekend.

But they had to set to work making the booth their own.

  “I can make Ames laugh,” Dawn bragged, pointing a chicken bone at Eli across the narrow table. “Just because he doesn’t do it for you doesn’t mean he can’t.”

  “Oh, please.” Ambrose squirmed next to her. “We really don’t need to go through this.”

Eli grinned.

  “Oh, no, I think we do.” 

Dawn pushed away her plate and cleared her throat. Ambrose muttered a curse under her breath.

  “Are you going to tell the-“

  “The sauce story?” Dawn nudged him. “Yes. Come on, you always laugh at that one!”

  “No, I don’t!” Ambrose covered his own mouth, but he couldn’t hide his eyes. They were already crinkling up from a smile, the ice blue of his irises softening into a bright pool.

Eli leaned forward. Suddenly he was desperate for the sauce story.

  “How does it start?” he said. Dawn matched his posture and launched into the tale- something about a lunch, an orcish waiter, and a sandwich- but the details didn’t matter, not to either of them. They both kept sneaking glances at Ambrose, who out of spite, was trying so very hard not to laugh. His mouth twisted, his cheeks went pink, his eyes looked everywhere but at Dawn.  

  “So I’m sitting there,” Dawn half-giggled as she spoke, “this waiter practically sitting on my lap, trying to mop up the sauce while still trying to flirt with me-“

There it went- a peal of laughter, sudden enough to make the others jump. Ambrose’s hand had fallen from his face, and nothing could hide it now. The grin that scrunched up his features, the delightful cackle that Eli had assumed didn’t exist. Eli blinked. If he didn’t already know there was a lantern on the wall behind Ambrose, he may have thought the light was coming from him instead.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Ambrose waved a hand, still laughing, “it’s just- the look on that waiter’s face- Eli, you should’ve seen it-“

Eli felt his cheeks grow warm. Ambrose had always called him Elias.

And yet here he was, calling him by his nickname and- and laughing.

  “Huh,” he murmured, watching the smile continue to play across the man’s face. He had never seen anything quite like it, not in all his travels. “Yeah, sad I didn’t see it.”

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Ooh mysterious! I love how you describe the goat before she knows what it is. I'd imagine it's a hard balance to strike when listing it's basic elements without giving it away. And drawing attention to the fact that the King doesn't show his feet is super cool too

A Gust of Rising Wind | The Raven King

Phei has landed on the Surface, making her way through forests and hills looking for someone to show her the way. But the fields are big and empty. Only after days of walking does she stumble upon a small town, the buildings empty, the windows blocked by rotten planks. But she must go on.

-x-

Walking has become harder too. The ground that had been so soft and lush before is now bare, dried up cracks instead of grasses decorate the top, Phei’s talons unable to dig into the earth. With the city within earshot she ensures that the sleeves of her coat are covering her feathers and her cloak hides her talons. Satisfied with her disguise, she presses on.

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