Tag: blurb x 3

How long had Savage been gone? An hour? Maybe two? It was long enough for his ‘shadows’ to pick up on the fact that the tiger likely wasn’t returning, which meant it was time to go. Gripping his hunting knife in one hand, the ranger gathered his few supplies with the other, listening intently to his surroundings while trying to appear nonchalant. No need to draw extra attention. 

Amorthon pulled his hood up over his head as he moved away from the encampment, quickly and quietly shifting between trees. He’d been less than five minutes out when he heard it - the rustling of vegetation, disturbed animals, and voices…angry voices who were apparently no longer interested in subtlety…or were trying to distract him. And it...

Tluck...tlock....

Two drops of water fell from the faucet on the opposite side of her office. The room was sparse, boxes piled on the walls from storage, paperwork was strewn across her desk. It had been weeks since she'd opened the door to this place again, only to realize it wasn't what it had been before.

 It was as if the warmth had been drawn from under the doorway and escaped in her absence. The bright colors of the wall seemed muted and aged. The paperwork, where it had once felt meaningful...was empty and stale. There were no clients. She'd need to walk the community once again and start the services. Those that she had on the ledger had been crossed off. Passed away, killed, mercied... there weren't many of the original...

Talyn liked drawing faces. If one were to flip through his sketchbook, among the few pieces involving wildlife and a handful of more abstract shapes, the faces of those around him were what they’d see most of all. 

He especially liked that unguarded expression people tended to wear when they felt nobody was looking; a blacksmith hard at work, or a mother watching her children at play- couples lost in the moment with one another during a stroll through the gardens, or arguing with a heat that only lovers can wield. Free from the everyday illusions people wore in place of their real feelings, it was the kind of thing charcoal and paper were made for. Just as it was the kind of thing he couldn’t really grasp beyond the marks on his...