kalloway @kalloway@fedibird.com

Marac pulled his long, blond hair into a tight ponytail before walking calmly out onto the training field.

The Eastern Kingdom did not believe in lineage for succession, only strength and skill. Marac's own power had put him on the throne and while he had no intentions of needing an heir just yet-

One soldier in particular had caught his eye. She had magic and was quick on her feet. He'd watched the gleam of her sword for a week straight.

Marac smiled as he approached her.

"My turn," he said, drawing his blade.

He wasn't disappointed.

#MastoPrompt

Georges kept his gaze on the ground as he wandered along the border road between SixtyJewels and Cindertown. He wasn't quite ready to return home to his father's connections, but his purse was empty and so was his stomach.

He'd wanted to look for work on his own, but he was young and inexperienced and...

"Are you hungry?"

Georges turned quickly, surprised by the massive church he'd somehow missed and the woman standing atop its steps.

"If you are, come in."

He nodded and folded his speckled wings close as he climbed the steps.

"Thank you."

#wss366

Being a bit of an ass over in the comments to an AO3 news post...

...but if you're going to mention something started on Geocities in 1991, I'm gonna point out that you've made a really obvious and embarrassing error. Especially when it's been translated into 20+ languages and nobody went 'wait a second'.

(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.

(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.

(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?"