DIMIDIUM - (3) Mysteries3. MysteriesDIMIDIUM - (3) Mysteries by Jubchili
The wind had died down as the group reached the end of the plains.
After a bit of walking the group had finally reached the border line of the plains and the beginning of the crystal outcrop. Small and medium sized crystals were protruding from the ground like tall towers suddenly appearing on the horizon of a plain.
"Look. Over there", Aleria pointed towards the crystals,"We've come to the start of the crystal terrain".
The crytals protruded from the ground in single narrow spikes with needle sharp tips - each one at least fifteen feet tall, creating an infinite forest of white, yellow, pink and blue hues.
The group walked on a little further towards the crystals. Zaara's and Seph's eyes darted from crystal to crystal, admiring their shiny, smooth surfaces. They were scattered quite far from each other.
A high echo of voices filled the silence in the air, causing all but Aleria to jump. Zaara and Seph looked around but found nothing but the crystals. Zaara almost re
DIMIDIUM - (4) Revelations4. RevelationsDIMIDIUM - (4) Revelations by Jubchili
Cora was gliding through the dark Elentus territory with high speed. The Elentus territory was naturally dark when compared to the other hybrid lands. The terrain was mostly an endless woodland of black trees and white whisps of rudimentary energy floating about here and there.
The dark creature that was hanging limp in her arms seemed to be getting lighter as she moved along. Smoke was steadily rising through its pores. Its skin seemed to be shrivelling in Cora's arms. Its colour slowly changed from black to an ashy grey. It was obviously dead by now.
Cora stopped to get a good long look at it.
"What are you?", she thought aloud.
She was sure that it was not from the hybrid lands or the Outlands. Cora decided that she would just have to show it to Lord Aaron and see what he had to say about it.
A few more moments of rest and she was off again.
At the speed she was now running at, she would reach the Daus camp site in less than thrity minutes. From there it was a sho
Shall I? (Dragon Age)S’raaka Adaar did not look good in a dress. It could also be said that she looked ridiculous and certainly out of place.Shall I? (Dragon Age) by Armaiti-Zarich
The crinoline skirt of the dress made her hips look wider than usual and with her silvery skin, horns and pale hair she stood out of the swirling, chattering crowd like a mountain on the verge of a valley.
So much for a masquerade—no mask, however elaborate, could conceal the dramatic difference of figure and race. She was an outsider among the pompous nobles, upstart felons and wealthy merchant princes.
Speaking of merchant princes, the dwarf at the Inquisitor’s side coughed as if to alert his company to an incoming gush of speech—and speak he did: “Truly your beauty stands out among the lessers, Horny.”
“One more word and I’ll teach you the truths of pain, dwarf.”
“Charmed.” he chuckled, grabbing the first glass of spirits that came within his reach.
S’raaka looked around—this was no plac
Who Am I? (Mass Effect/Star Wars)Sillani was filled with anger and excitement of battling that was beyond her control. Her bright blue lightsaber cut through armour and flesh alike, as she slashed at her enemies. There was nothing but vengeance and killing on her mind and she knew not where she left the mercenary accompanying her, she only knew that he was not anywhere near. It did not matter; nothing would stand between her and the people that were responsible for her memory loss and death of tens of good scientists that worked on the project of safe colonising Eletania.Who Am I? (Mass Effect/Star Wars) by Armaiti-Zarich
There was but one last obstacle between her and her last target—Sillani put her lightsaber through the door and fried the lock. A single asari stood behind the door, high on biotic drug Minagen X3, which enhanced her biotic powers. Sillani used the Force to fling the asari against the wall and approached her, her blue lightsaber high above the Jedi’s own head, prepared for the one last strike. The asari, however, got up on her feet and es
All That Remains (Call of Duty)He looked on the address he had scribbled on the paper, before stepping out of car. Yes, this was the right address. He inhaled the heavy Edinburgh air; it smelled of rain and soon enough, the grey clouds, which currently encircled the sky, would bring true Scottish dreich.All That Remains (Call of Duty) by Armaiti-Zarich
He went up the stairs to the second floor, and stopped in front of a particular door. ‘MacTavish’ the doorbell said. He pressed it and waited as he heard it ring inside.
A woman opened the door, a pretty thing—ginger hair, blue eyes, soft freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks; and she was heavy with child. She looked at him with startled and weary gaze. A boy of five was peeping from behind the door, blue-eyed and brown-haired. He took after his father.
“Captain Price,” she said, surprised. “I wisnae expectin’ ye. Or anyone for tha’ ma’er.” she said in thick Scottish accent.
“I’m sorry, ma’am MacTavish, I should’ve called.
Caged (Dragon Age)It is madness how one inevitably finds what one does not seek.Caged (Dragon Age) by Armaiti-Zarich
Sẹnaid came to Kirkwall seeking atonement, a cure for her regrets and grief; to wash away the filth of who she was; to find peace in the embrace of faith and stillness of the Chantry.
But her soul is made of fire and her passions are not of those that are calmed easily.
This search of content of hers was quickly ended when she first saw him. His spirit a radiating light, his eyes a mirror of passion hidden beneath, his smile capable of making her knees grow weak, his smooth tenor possessing the power that made her beg to Andraste herself to have a mercy upon her soul.
His image shattered every illusion of balance and quietude she has built. He was her vision of the Maker and as such she would worship him; silent in her reverence.
She was ashamed of her desires, for all the long nights she spent thinking of him, the dreams that made her cheeks flame with red. Emotions that made her magic uncontrollable; a lot of mornings
Perfect MomentMy cat, Emo, lounges in the summer grass,Perfect Moment by WolfxButterfly
stark black and fluffy white, the pink
of his nose against the dusty green
and piss yellow of the farm worn weeds
in the crowded yard, bursting with old cars,
chicken eggs, splintered wood,
goats that won’t shut up and the children
bustling in and out of the house.
Duncan and I are ignoring them,
sitting on the cracked porch steps,
and Emo, once he’s sprawled
his thin body into a comfortable line,
is relaxed, closing his eyes into slits
while he softly purrs in the sunshine.
We don’t have to hold him or pick him up
because he’s already content to be near us.
We three are together and he is happy,
and is the most beautiful thing
I have witnessed all summer long
in that moment.
love letters to introvertsi.love letters to introverts by sylveda
To the boy who prefers spending Friday nights at home:
the world does not understand how beautiful silence sounds
As you crack open that book you've been waiting to read,
or plug in your computer,
or listen to music,
or just maybe stare that the night sky from your bedroom window-
(please) remember what everyone else seems to forget;
that being alone does not always equal lonely--
and that sometimes no company is the best company there is.
To the girl who does not speak up in class:
I was once you.
You are not deficient, I promise, despite everyone telling you otherwise.
You might be the only one who will ever know the universes
tucked inside your head,
because they are beautiful secrets you cannot bring yourself to share,
for fear that they might be vandalized.
When you spea
Needing YouI am writing this letterNeeding You by AnUnfoldedPaperTiger
Two weeks in advance, for I
Cannot pay the fare for anything
Faster. I am unable to deliver this
Myself because I will be long across
The highway. But I have overcome the
Distance, so let me continue.
I am writing this letter as if I would
A vision, because messages are more easily
Remembered when shown, not told.
When the words lose their form and
The ink shifts and morphs into what is
Meant to be seen.
I am writing this to you because
I am going off to war, against
An unbeaten enemy whose backgrounds
Have been burned. I know that I
Must rise up to meet the road,
But I must ask you this.
Will you still be there,
Waiting with a smile and a shrug
Saying “‘Bout time you showed up”
Will you still be sitting
On your front porch steps,
Whittling away like some
Will you still need me
After I’ve left and gone?
Because I’ll still need you.
The FallYou took what I thought wasThe Fall by WolfxButterfly
the crisp, ripe peach of our friendship
and tore it apart with savage teeth.
I wonder what it tasted like
at the time, if you rejoiced
in ripping me to pieces
as I stood at a complete loss
for how to help you, how to get
through to you, and what I did
to deserve such hostility.
I hear you tried to apologize.
Tearfully, in fact, trying to get me
to answer the phone, all day.
That doesn’t sound like you at all
but if it’s true, I didn’t receive the calls or texts
because I blocked your number.
After much thought for a course
of action, I found my heart
was too tired of that particular strain,
the one where I give you my all
as a friend and you just look at me
as something to put up with, even if
you say you love me.
I guess this past spring
wasn’t the season for peaches,
because they all grew hard and stiff
and before I knew it I found myself
biting into stone.
On the Sport of Gopher-HuntingOur next-door neighbors' yard was disfigured with gray basketball-sized dirt mounds. A gopher was living in the area and seemed to take great joy in constant destruction. One day the neighbors' two kids, Chris, Marissa, and I decided that we would finally do something about the unwanted tunnel occupant. So we asked their parents if we could perform this important task. After we got the go-ahead, Marissa grabbed their hose. Once it was down one of the gopher holes, Chris turned the water on. We were going to flood the gopher's home and force him to come out. To our six-through-nine year old minds, this was the most brilliant idea ever.On the Sport of Gopher-Hunting by Darjavine
Of course, that afternoon had started out like any other afternoon. The three of us were hanging around each other's yards, playing tag or hide-n-seek. When some of the fun had died down, I had looked at Chris and Marissa's backyard. It had been torn up for as long as I could remember. "You know,
(1) This One Time at Band Camp...We were in squads trying to teach the freshman a thing or two about marching. Frankly our squad was being very dysfunctional and we were not doing anything productive. Personally I blame it on having such a big squad. Normally, in my band at least, there are only three to five or so people in a squad plus squad leaders. Originally we had like three people in our squad and three squad leaders, but we ended up combining with another one. So we ended up with this huge crazy squad. Let's put it this way. If we wanted to, we had enough instruments from each section to create our own mini-band.(1) This One Time at Band Camp... by ElizaBob
So, naturally we were all off topic because there were just too many of us. However, when we were on task it wasn't the best thing either. I think the first crazy thing with us was, we couldn't hear because our squad leaders were not being loud enough. At one point, because of this the squad was told to do a left flank, but half the squad didn't hear so all of a sudden we were split in two going into
My Opinion on CritiquesHey everyone!My Opinion on Critiques by ChocolateQuill
Some of you know me--especially if you watch me and keep up with the goings on with my profile. Some of you don't. But I can assure you that I am not a mean nor malicious person.
So why is it, when I give some people constructive critique, am I pinned as:
A: a troll
B: a 'Hater'
It's an interesting concept for me to debate and discuss. And rant about.
See, I have a rule:Avoid critiquing people on a subject I haven't studied and theorized on an extensive amount...or one I wouldn't automatically welcome to receive critique about in return.
Those who dish out critique with 0% experience is just mean, and cruel. Not that I'm saying that I'm all knowing either. ESPECIALLY in the thing that I critique most often--What do I critique, you ask?
A:Written pieces (I have a group for it, too!)
B: Character bios and character creation (especially fan characters).
It's rather hard to 'know all', though it is possible to 'know a very good amount'. We all have different ex
TechnologyTechology has simplified life ridiculously. I'm surprised at the number of people who still even bother to read the paper in the morning.Technology by AimeeRaindrop
With the internet only a click of the mouse away and hourly news updates on the television or radio, the humble newspaper hasn't really got any relevance to a progressive culture.
We live in a society of convenience; the communities that formerly produced tomorrow's powerful and intelligent leaders cease to do so as education becomes more generalised and technology plays an increasingly important part in our everyday lives in an attempt to create a broad, adaptable citizenry.
Has the industrial revolution, i.e. the introduction of machinery into the workplace to do our manual labour and to entertain us in the family home, ultimately brought about the decimation of our previously active lifestyles? I say yes.
The truth is, less than one in five british citizens now get their recommended amount of exercise, and a major contributor to these new sloth-li
the mechanisms of ocean waves When I was little, I loved sea foam.the mechanisms of ocean waves by sylveda
Running forward to the shore, I would watch waves lap up at my feet and then recede, dragging the sand under my feet back with it. Sea foam would fringe the edges of these silky waves like lace, and I would grab at it, cup it in my hands. I would remember the origins of Aphrodite (born of sea foam, risen out of the ocean as the most beautiful goddess of all), and I would cradle it, hold it close to me, as if I could absorb it into my being.
By the time I brought the sea foam up to my face, it had leaked through my fingers, dissolved. Leaning down, I would cup it again and again and again, gathering fragile lace like a fine seamstress, hoping to maybe sew it onto the edges of myself, make myself some semblance of Aphrodite. Yet it crumbled, leaked through my fingers, leaving only the trace of salt behind.
Eventually I gave up on the sea foam. One cannot keep chasing after things that just barely exist.
My father told me never to plunge int
Burns NightI should have listened to my mother when she told me never to hang out with irresponsible drinkers. I never imagined the irresponsible drinker to be me, however.Burns Night by Armaiti-Zarich
We were sitting in a cosy little tavern, eating a traditional dinner of haggis, neeps and tatties. Obligatory St. Andrew’s crosses decorated the windows, bagpipe music playing in the background. There were five of us at the table—me, Kenny, Sebby, Chiara and Matt. A Czech, two Scots, an Italian and an American. In short: a deadly combination.
Matt was the one to get drunk first. I found that odd, since we were celebrating Burns’ night, not the Independence Day or something as equally American. However, that was when the things started to get interesting.
“This will put hair on your chest.” Matt announced as he poured me yet another dram of whisky.
“I really shouldn’t…” I hesitated, but after getting a series of disgusted frowns from all around the
Not Even CloseSilence and darkness can be a thief's greatest allies, masterful use of those allies can mean the difference between life and death, success or failure. She knew how to use those allies well, it felt natural to her and today she would succeed in her mission.Not Even Close by ReinaHW
Quietly now, be sure not to draw any attention to yourself, slow, careful footsteps. Don't alert those close by or it will be a complete failure, so careful.
The target is now in sight, it was so close now, so very close, all she had to do was get a little closer, reach out and deliver the killing blow.
Just a little farther...almost there...
A hand grabs her arm and she looks up to see her mum's face scowling at her, busted.
“You've already had two fairy cakes, Karen, leave some for the rest of us. Try stealing again and you won't be getting any supper”
Complete and total failure. How had she even heard her? She was at the other end of the counter, how could she even move that fast?
Your SentinelWhat were these days to you? Were they pleasant days of song and hearth? What were these days to you? To me they were merely days and no other, sun rise and sun set with time in-between of things that mattered so little to me while they clearly mattered to you. But why they mattered to you I do not know, nor understand.Your Sentinel by ReinaHW
So what were these days to you?
You greet the days as if they are of joy and merriment, you greet the nights with a gentle fatigue that brings to you a peaceful, I would imagine, slumber while I stay awake as ever just watching, listening, waiting. Your sentinel of the morn and night.
When awake you eat and smile a lot, sometimes you cry but those times are rare. You sing at times and encourage me to join you, but I am incapable of such a thing, so I watch as you do what you do, you call it 'living life'. Unusual words for one such as I.
At times you head out to a nearby town or a village to partake in what you call socialisatio
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