The Person I Reblogged This From Is Awesome As Fuck.

The person I reblogged this from is awesome as fuck.

awwwksjfksjf thank you this made my fucking dayyyyy *incoherent blubbering noises*

also the writing paradox it’s paradoxing my brain is boggled

Trick or treat!

Treat! 🎃

This is a flashback snippet from Tales of Wilted Flowers, taking place a few years in the past when Ahren and Faellyn were still traveling the kingdoms (after the destruction of their homeland). At this time, they're just kids who dream of becoming heroes. It's a more angsty/sad (with a hopeful ending) snippet, which I think fits the Halloween theme quite well! I hope you enjoy ;)

"They'll write stories about me one day." Ahren declared, voice waveringly sure. He wanted to believe it. "...And, um, about you... too, I suppose."

He quickly added, realizing his slip-up, throwing a small pebble up in the air, watching it sink into the nothingness below, inches away from where he lay on the edge of the ruins of what he believed was an abandoned temple. On the crumpled staircase to his left, Faellyn giggled at the rushed, absentminded addition.

"You laugh, but I would be perfect. Steadfast, brave, cunning. The whole deal. Like the Old Rulers! Bards will sing songs of the day I slice my sword through the neck of the Betrayer King, just like he did to -... I'd be a hero. Yes, that's it - I'll be the hero. I should be. That'll show them." He continued, at first loudly, gesturing around like a true storyteller, however gradually losing steam, until the last words ended in a dejected whisper.

Faellyn leaned forward, thinking, her laughter faded. She fiddled with the strings of her bag, as Ahren's rant delved into unintelligible, bitter mutterings. At the same time, such foolhardy daydreams should've given her glee - to see her cousin dreaming of adventures, just like he used to be. But those final words had caught up to her, bleeding through the pretense of what could've been.

Nothing was much the same, anymore - not even them. Their dues had been stolen, much like her father's kingdom - which was now a forgotten pile of ash, lost to time and memory. Stolen, by King Tieran Kallasen. Much like Ahren's peace of mind, she suspected, if the muttering habit he had recently taken up was anything to go by.

She pouted, looking up. The sky was bleeding red and gold, the sun fading beneath the trees, just out of sight. They should've reached the city by now. Ahren claimed having learned from someone trustworthy, that an old friend of her mother awaited them in the next city. Faellyn dared to hope it was true - they'd had their fair share of traps and ambushes by now. She decided it had to be true.

As she watched the last rays of sunlight disappear from their makeshift camp, Faellyn turned to her distracted cousin, reckless determination filling her words as she stood up, strapping her bag to her back. "Yes, you're right." Faellyn paused, weighing her words. "We will be heroes - maybe not now, maybe not tomorrow. But we'll be. I'll make sure of it, one day."

She walked up to Ahren, who was still sitting on the edge of the ruins, but no longer muttering, and reached out a hand to him. Snapped from his musings, Ahren looked up.

"What do you think, now? To the city?" She asked, hopefully, as her cousin grasped her hand, standing up. Ahren nodded, and though he didn't look her in the eyes as he started walking, Faellyn swore she saw a shadow of a smile in his features.

"To the city."

I know I’m late to the party for this ask game, but in the spirit of Halloween, I simply couldn’t miss out! So…

Trick 👻 or Treat 🎃?

Treat! 🎃

Thank you for the ask, @elshells!!!

Have a snippet from my WIP, Enchanted Illusions! It's a funnier one (at least I hope)!

(This is the scene where Evangeline, daughter of one of the most powerful sorcerers in their city, meets her soon to be vest friend - when Ambrose clumsily tries to steal a priceless artifact from her mansion)

"Who are you?"

The young man jumped at her unexpected question, almost falling to the ground. While he managed to regain his footing, all his tools around him fell to the floor with a loud clatter. He cringed.

"Uh, I - um" He [Ambrose] frantically looked around, as if wanting to rewind time to the moment before he'd screwed up. He continued quickly, stumbling over the words to fill the awkward silence. " - can we just pretend you never saw me and that this never happened?"

Evangeline narrowed her eyes, taking a step closer, while still clumsily brandishing the fire poker with both hands. "Nope."

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, both teens awkwardly staring at each other - admittedly with difficulty, as the only light source was the moonlit creeping in from the window left ajar.

"Fine." Ambrose broke the silence, holding both hands up, placatingly and stepping away from the pedestal beside him "What do you suppose we do now?"

She tilted her head. "You could start by explaining to me what you're doing in my house. In the middle of the night, inside my father's room of spells."

Ambrose smirked, with a little flourish of his hands. "Ambrose Prosper. Part-time antiquarian, aspiring adventurer. A pleasure to meet you again - we've met before, I'm the apprentice at that clock repair shop..."

Evangeline stared at Ambrose for a long moment, before recognizing him. She recalled the awfully clumsy clerk running around the shop, almost toppling a stack of priceless machinery. "I knew you looked familiar."

He continued. "As for adressing the uh... dragon in the room..."

Ambrose paused, considering how to say the words he was about to speak, before blurting it all out in one breath. "I've been hired to steal the artifact currently standing on the pedestal right behind me. Hired by a.... very intimidating sorcerer, if that makes it any better..."

"Oh, okay. Of course. So you're a thief now. A magicless human one. And not very good at it either, given our current... stalemate. About as threatening to me here as a fruit fly."

Ambrose smiled, awkwardly nodding. "Yep, pretty much."

She sighed. "If this is what you want to do for a living, how have you even survived this long? "

"I have literally no idea. Luck?"

[...]

Trick or treat! 👻

~ @tabswrites

Treat! 🎃

Have five random facts about the cast of Tales of Wilted Flowers:

When Niven Fenrith was younger, he had once dreamed of becoming a musician of some kind - being talented in many kinds of musical instruments and being a very good singer. But then life (a.k.a. spoilers) led him to become the underappreciated assistant to a politician instead.

Lorelai Wildwood loved sneaking around in her childhood mansion's hallways, which had many secret passageways and hiding spots. Also, due to the fact her father had once been a knight, she learned sword fighting and archery very early on - a hobby she adored. These abilities prove rather useful in the story, especially when the King's soldiers are after her.

Arista's family history is a mystery to everyone around her, something that is deeply intentional on her part, but not due to her vampiric heritage - rather, because of who the human side of her family is. She pretends not to know her past because explaining it would be even more complicated. (Keep an eye out for this fact, it ties into a really important plot twist later on in the book's story!)

Ahren Ellara is actually the adopted ward of Faellyn's paternal uncle, but when their House was destroyed, Ahren was the only relative to survive along with her. Over time, their relationship became more like siblings than cousins, because they were the only family each other had to rely on.

Micah Rook adores most kinds of animals - cats, dogs, snakes, anything (: - But is terribly afraid of any kind of bird (from seagulls to ducks and even pigeons, it doesn't matter, they will freak him out and he will run away screaming). It gets to the point where it is comically hilarious, especially since he is really trying to keep up the "tough pirate/rogue" persona - it all goes out of the window when a bird sees him and he sees the bird.

do you ever just

🎃Trick or treat!👻

--@oh-no-another-idea

Trick, trick, trick!