(WSS 11/28 Game)

Huela reached for her drink while she waited for the game to finish running the matching sequence.

It was an old game, and one that was probably on borrowed time as a live service, but Huela had been playing for so long... She'd missed a few days, though. She'd been sick...

She wasn't surprised when she was matched with all the usuals with generic names that always seemed to be on. Bots, she'd long-assumed, to fill the gaps.

That was fine. It was time to play. No need for chatting, no need to-

[You're back!]
[We worried.]

"What?"

(MastoPrompt 11/28 Sorrow)

The neighbors gathered quietly, watching as cart after cart of fancy belongings arrived and were taken into the otherwise drab rowhouse.

It was in an older part of town, one half-forgotten and run down. And why any sort of noble from the north might be moving in...

It had been a rumor, until the carts started arriving-

Lord Langlee watched quietly from the shadows, breathing in the ambient sorrow that had taken root in the neighborhood.

His presence would change little if he kept to himself.

And, quietly, he would feast.

(Microprompt 11/28 Clink)
@FrostPoem

Orsala heard the coins clink and clatter into the box and reached for the mechanical apparatus that opened the curtain.

Her dance was not long, but she hoped it was impressive. It was clear she did not have strings nor wires and could move more freely than a normal puppet or automaton.

All she had to do was not look directly at her audience, for she could not hide the witchfire eyes in her very human skull.

Tin and cloth covered her bones to aid in the deception...

It was a strange unlife...

Orsala danced.

(WSS 11/7 Print)

Wynflaed had probably startled the postman. But it wasn't the first time she'd done that and she was unfortunately sure it wouldn't be the last.

She was just so excited and finally, her copy of the new print of a complicated old spell had arrived. The advert had promised legibility and accuracy and honestly, previous prints had not had those.

Wynflaed had the scars to prove it.

So if this copy worked, well-

Carefully she opened the rolled packaging and stared at the crisp words and-

"Huh," she said, frowning. "That explains a lot."

(MastoPrompt 11/20 Scuff)

"Mornin'," Dawn said as she set up her stand near the end of the market. It wasn't the best location, but she could afford the fee.

"Good morning," Tibold replied as he pulled out a coin.

Dawn smiled. He was her first customer every day even though his shoes often didn't have more than a rogue scuff or bit of dirt.

But it was easy work and a good start to each day.

When she'd finished, Dawn quietly stood and Tibold looked like he wanted to say something.

"Thank you," he finally managed.

Dawn nodded.

Well, maybe tomorrow.

(WSS 11/12 Scrape)

The villagers were still arguing and gossiping when Miranda returned to the entrance to the cemetery.

With one quick scrape of her claws along the stone wall, they all paused and looked at both her and the wall. The wall was undamaged, as were her claws.

"No ghosts," she said flatly. True ghosts were rare. But she'd been called to investigate and they'd paid her fee. "You've all forgotten, haven't you..."

She then whistled between her fangs and a shaggy dark dog appeared beside her.

"Please play with your grim more; he's lonely."

(WSS 11/27 Sweet)

Del had barely finished surveying the festive mess left behind by his family when there was a soft knock at the back door.

Laughing, he dashed back to open it.

"Come in and eat," he said to the waiting faeries and other folk. "The punch is a bit too sweet and the cake a bit too dry, but..."

But food was food and treats were treats and Del was happy to not need to worry about leftovers.

Nor the festive mess, he realized. He hadn't expected the trade, but he accepted it.

He'd told his family he had good neighbors and he meant it.

(WSS 11/26 Utter)

At first, nobody so much as wanted to utter a word about the possibility-

But as the days passed, it became clear that there was a vampire in their midst.

There were the usual concerns, of course, and questions, and...

"They're probably just as wary as we are," Nelda Givens finally pointed out. "I think we can probably work something out. Times have changed."

Public notices were posted and everyone quietly waited.

The night before the full moon, a slim young woman introduced herself to the pack of werewolves.

Times had changed.

(WSS 11/25 Craze)

Alston had been an undertaker for his entire life. Before him, his mother had been an undertaker, and his grandfather before. He was comfortable with death and with the deceased and funerals and mourning and everything else the profession required.

He had accommodated some unique requests over the years...

But as he set the monthly trade newsletter down on his desk, Alston was pretty sure he was going to have to draw a line.

Exciting new industry craze or not, using necromancy to attend one's own funeral was just going too far!

(WSS 11/24 Cure)

"You don't have to keep trying," Teofila said softly as she squeezed Miha's hand. "We both know there's no cure."

"Teofila..."

"I've always been like this. Good days and bad. That's why I have so much fun on the good days..."

She was a terror on her good days and was not apologetic about it. That was how she met Miha, after all, and how she had her best adventures.

"On your next good one, we'll..."

Teofila could feel Miha's bright magic pouring into her, luring her to a restful sleep.

The next good one would be the best one yet.

(MastoPrompt 11/10 Flow)

"So it just stops somewhere on the this floor," Reg said as he wandered along the castle's corridor.

"We've never had magic flow problems before," the high wizard who was guiding him replied.

"Hmm..." There were only so many causes of magic clogs. But Reg was the best magic plumber in the kingdom and-

Just then, two young children ran into the hall, chased by a pair of maids.

Reg couldn't help laughing. This looked like a pretty common job.

He reached for his trusty and worn wrenchwand.

"Let's just start in their rooms."

(WSS 11/19 Arrest)

"Barry," the judge said firmly, "this is your twenty-seventh arrest for the same offense. I can't just keep fining you and putting you on probation."

"It's a perfectly good use of magic," Barry replied. That was why he kept doing it! The law was wrong and he was helping people!

The judge sighed. "What we're going to have to do is a bit of reform, Barry. First you're going to spend a night in jail. Then we're going to work on reform.

"And reforming the laws on that kind of magic will take time."

Barry grinned. He could do that.

(MastoPrompt 10/27 Barbed)

Avery wiped the sweat from his forehead and then smiled. This was his first task as head of the family and he was right there doing it himself.

The barbed wire could go to the scrap yard; it wasn't needed any more. The fencing could be used elsewhere, perhaps. And when all of that was down and sorted, he could see about building a bridge instead.

It would be a lot of work, and not just physical work, but Avery couldn't wait to do it.

He waved to the other side of the river, where the barbed wire was coming down as well.

(MastoPrompt 9/4 Opinion)

Gordon wasn't nervous, though he'd never gone up against a dragon before. Mostly he was curious as to how the dragon would respond to him.

The dragon was eyeing him just as curiously, surely thinking the same things.

"Let's keep this clean and stick to facts over opinions," the moderator said and both Gordon and the dragon nodded.

Introductions were made; the dragon's name was Nathaniel, and then it was time to begin.

It didn't even really matter if Gordon won the debate. He'd go home proud.

And with a new friend, too!

(WSS 11/5 Figure)

Another day, another batch.

Serena quickly looked over her paints and made sure she had everything she needed for the morning. Each figure needed to be hand-painted, and for it to have the proper effect, it would also require a certain amount of prayer.

Serena could do both. She'd been painting figures of gods since she'd been old enough to hold brushes.

"You really don't need to model for me," she said to the god lounging in her studio. She knew what he looked like. She knew his prayers.

"I'll make lunch?" he said.

He could stay.

(WSS 11/13 Dish)

"You do have to feed me," the demon said, and Vega nodded slowly. He remembered reading that, and he had followed the instructions to add a small empty dish inside the summoning circle.

"What do you eat?" Vega asked quietly. Blood, or his soul, or something that would be complicated to-

The demon shrugged. "We could just get Taco Bell, I suppose. Unless something else sounds good to you."

Vega was not expecting that, but then again, he ate at Taco Bell fairly often. He probably should have guessed...

"Yeah, sounds good. Let's go."

(MastoPrompt 11/7, Mourn)

Curtis knocked on the door of the townhouse and then waited. He'd dressed in all black, as was standard for his trade, but he had a bag with him with a few other options in case he needed to adjust for cultural differences.

Anything more would be an extra fee.

A woman opened the door and then quickly stepped aside.

"You must be the mourner," she said. "Do come in. I haven't had time to mourn at all and I still have so many papers to take care of."

Curtis nodded and followed her inside, mourning already.

"Leave it to me."

(MastoPrompt 12/4 Hold)

Marwa smiled when she saw it. There, a ways along the trail, was a little wooden shelter and the Wind Phone.

It had been decades but she still knew the number without thinking. She'd had to call it every day at her first job and then wait and wait and wait, not allowed to doodle or read a magazine or anything else.

Both companies were long gone now, but she remembered...

She dialed the Wind Phone and then paused.

"Please hold," she said before setting the receiver down.

Marwa pulled a book from her bag. It felt oddly good.