kelshall
The trenches were filled with blood. That's all that Trent could think of as he slipped through this dream, stumbling over fallen corpses and mangled limbs detached from their owners by a careless flick of a sword. Maybe he had done some of this damage, too. He didn't know why he felt such detachedness from the world now, as he had seen war before. All of it had damaged him so deeply before, so why not now? Maybe now seeing trenches of blood didn't hurt, because there were already so many carved into his heart that he was used to it.
The oily substance was sticky on her hands, and as she lifted them up, trying to shake the goop off, it stuck. Kestrel cried out, terrified, as oil began to slick up her arms, and she stared at Pascal in horror as it all happened to her.
"Please," she begged. "Please, no..."
"This is what you get for taking what doesn't belong to you," snapped Pascal.
Then the oil consumed her.
He hated them, the nasty buggers. Literally, in this case. It was bad enough that he was trapped out here in the woods - even worse now that those stupid little critters had decided that invading Kyttem's fur had been a good idea. Now Gryfyn had to deal with the fleas, too.
"I'm a king," he whined. "I shouldn't have to deal with this."
Ysa smacked him, which probably killed a few fleas in the process, and went on rubbing salve into his hair.
"I'm a queen," she snapped. "And yet here I am, rubbing plant decay into my stupid husband's hair."
If you will it to be so, it will be so. Bekka closed her eyes, focusing on the queen's words, and thought about him, thought about him, thought about him. He would be okay. He would be fine. They would all be fine. All she had to do was to heal him. She was healing him. He would be fine. He would be fine. Taking a deep breath, Bekka placed her hands on Perren's chest, thinking in a rhythm. She willed it to be fine. It would be fine.
She received his gift with open hands, relieved, almost, that she had finally been given some attention. It had seemed to her lately that he had despised her, or not actually cared about her. A little smug look passed over her face in the car that day - she was important to someone. She was important to him. She wasn't just some invisible little girl, counted out by everyone. There was something in her that was special. Something unique, and she just needed to find it.
It wasn't possible, and she was sure of it. Well, maybe she was sure of it. Serafina wasn't quite sure if she understood the word possible. It wasn't possible for a woman like her to marry a commoner - that had happened. It wasn't possible for her to leave the Empire - she was now a spy against it. So what couldn't be done now? Could she save Samaria at her own expense?
Tyler smiled to himself, watching her with the rune-crafter in her hands. Her eyes were sharp sapphire beacons of intelligence, and he knew that she was somehow totally in tune with the marks under her fingers. But at the same time, she was so guarded, as if by prison bars or huge walls that she had built for her own protection. He wondered if there was a way inside them, because she desperately needed to see the outside world.
His claim to the throne was valid, Darikone realized, and a bone-chilling thought rushed through his veins. Technically, Marduke was the Prince, and therefore would become King. But next in line was Auramane, and that was questionable due to Darikone's uncertainty about her existence. And after that...was himself. If Marduke was turning corrupt...he could become the king.
His blindness, his oblivion was infuriating. Mark's hands balled into fists, and he drew one of them up. One moment later, Jake was stumbling backwards, his hands on his jaw in surprise. Anger flared in his eyes, and he lunged at his brother with his fists raised. But Mark sidestepped, watching as Jake went sprawling into the mud in front of him. His knuckles burning, Mark bent out to take the flask from his brother's fingertips, shaking his head sadly.
They were something of a dysfunctional family, if one really thought about it. On the outside, they looked simple and sweet: a pair of working parents, two twins, a younger brother, and a younger sister. But as Mark noticed, he and his twin sister were reincarnations of past kings. His brother was the sex-god of the school - which was probably due to the deal he had made with the dead that his first-born child would die instead of himself. Little Sidney was really the only normal one. He prayed that it wouldn't change.
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