Taken
Slateridge was having a calm night.
Rain fell down on cobbled paths in relentless sheets. The droning pattern of rain on the rooftops and the dull roar of metal gutters as they channeled spouts of water to the streets below filled the ears of patrolling Nightwatch. Their volunteer services to watch over their charges as they slept were given without complaint despite hoods pulled high over manes and ears to try and keep the worst of the icy droplets out of their eyes.
The recent agreements with the crown for greater shipments of building material had meant increased demands on the already tireless smithies and quarries. Not many ponies were against this however. Higher demand meant more hours which in turn meant more pay.
What few that hadn’t immediately left for home and their beds with tired hooves were taking advantage of heavier purses in the few local taverns. A little rain had never hurt anypony after all, and with enough alcohol in their system it probably wouldn’t be noticed either.
Groups of drunken ponies staggering home through the downpour weren’t uncommon sights, and so it was that a passing patrol gave a small hooded party little mind as they made their way silently through town.
“Damn pegasi and their damn clouds.” One of the hooded ponies hissed as the last of the Nightwatch turned a corner onto the next portion of their patrol. “Couldn’t keep their blasted rain to themselves for a bleedin’ night could they?”
“Cease your moaning, Grout. A little water will not kill you.“
The stallion snorted powerfully, sending a spray of misty breath and rainwater flying from his nostrils.
“Easy enough for you to say, mare. You damned unicorns don’t get wet if you don’t want to.”
Ignoring both his companion’s smirk and the flickering glow of her horn as a field of force bounced individual raindrops from her back with small ripples of light, he tried to shake warmth back into his chilled hooves as he grumbled loudly.
“How much longer are we gonna be wastin’ time out here soakin’, anyway? I thought this was a simple grab and dash.”
A frown creased the unicorn’s lips as dislodged droplets from his movements splattered against her shield.
“You know the plan as well as I. We wait one hour for him to return with the targets in hoof, and if he does not, we go in after him. Until then, please, be silent.”
Ignoring his intelligible muttering, the mare swung her gaze back onto the paving before her. The monotonous grey tones of the houses and shops seemed to bleed into their surroundings, the rain washing it out into the air like watercolor with such intensity that even the meager light from the street’s gas lampposts took on the hazy tinge of beige. She would never admit it to Grout, but the situation was taking its toll on her patience as well.
Turning her gaze inward to one of the many passive spells she kept active during such occasions gave her the current time and her frown deepened. Their third member was in great danger of showing up late, and a lack of tolerance for tardiness was something that her mistress had beaten into her early in her career.
Minutes passed like hours with only the sound of rain and Grout’s grunting and constant fidgeting for company. As chewing on the inside of her lower lip began to lose its ability to keep her irritation in check, she felt herself grow dangerously close to snapping before her eyes caught the tell-tale shift in grey-scale that announced a new arrival trotting toward them through a nearby plaza.
As he grew closer, she noticed several peculiarities about the approaching pony. Namely the pronounced limp and very conspicuous burlap sack that he carried on his back.
“About bloody time,” Grout grumbled. “What in Maker’s name kept you? Didja trip over yer own hooves?”
“Go to Tartarus, Grout. I’m not in the mood.” The strained stallion’s voice was thick with irritation as he grabbed the lip of the sack in his teeth and dropped it unceremoniously at their feet. A pained cry emanated from the stitched cloth as it collided with the cobble.
Arching an eyebrow as she stared at the damp bag, her eyes snapped up to meet the newcomer’s. “In my experience, ancient metal sigils do not feel pain let alone voice it.”
“That’s because they don’t and that’s not what this is, genius.”
Her lips pressed in a thin line as Grout stepped forward and poked the bag roughly with a hoof, eliciting a high-pitched groan.
“‘Ey, Rivet, mind tellin’ me why you got a pony in this bag ‘stead of the thing we was after?”
“There was a change of plans. I had a few problems getting the amulet and crystal.”
The unicorn glowered from underneath her hood. “What kind of problems?”
Rivet gave the bag a vicious kick as it started shuffling on the ground. A harsh cry of pain split the air and the bag ceased its movement, shivering occasionally as the pony within gave muffled sobs.
“Little filly problems,” he spat.
It had taken far too long to arrive back home than he found tolerable. The pale sunlight of early morning shone dimly through a sky still streaked with grey wisps of clouds, spent after dropping their burdens on the scoured city below.
Water rose into the air in bright arcs as his hooves came down in puddles scattered across the walkways and streets. He’d had half a mind to throttle the unfortunate patrol that had apprehended his carriage with his bare hooves but he settled for just venting a little spleen and threatening to submerge them in enough red tape to carry over to their grandfoals.
Crux had been barely listening to their hasty apologies and excuses when he’d heard it.
There had been a break-in in his city, nothing too unusual save for its location. His own home, in fact.
And a foalnapping.
He’d been halfway down the street and onto the main thoroughfare before his dust cloud had settled.
Flying down the pavement and weaving through hoof traffic, he payed little attention to the looks he was receiving from passersby. Heaving and panting while racing down the street like a demon out of Tartarus does wonders for one’s personal image, after all. One or two elderly ponies may have had flash backs and shouted in terror, but that was the price he paid for forgetting his coat in the carriage and putting his features on display again.
It did have one advantage, however, as the crowd parted readily around him. He put the dread of another public relations crisis aside for later as he turned a corner onto the street leading to his estate. He’d been expecting it, but that didn’t mean the sight of assembled guardsponies and a section of his grounds cordoned off with bright yellow tape hadn’t sent his heart plummeting into his stomach with a wave of chill.
His frenzied gallop turned into a jerky trot and finally a standstill as he heaved down great gasps of air, his heart beating a forceful rhythm against his ribcage. Forcing his unruly hooves into motion, he managed to rearrange his muzzle into a more acceptable, calm appearance before he stepped up to the assembled ponies who had yet to notice his presence. Save for one completely distraught mare.
“Mister Crux, there ya are,” Varnish cried. “It’s been just awful! Thank goodness yer back!”
Crux staggered under his maid’s weight as she threw her hooves around his shoulders, bawling hysterically. Unsure of what to say, he settled for patting her back soothing.
“Varnish, Varnish calm down. What happened?”
Drawing a hoofkerchief from his coat pocket, he offered it to the sobbing mare who accepted gratefully, releasing her vice grip on his withers and grasping the cloth tightly in her hooves as she wiped her eyes.
“A-ah don’t rightly know, Jet. Some vandal went and broke into the house last night while the staff went home. Ransacked the place, he did. Merlot and the girls were the only ponies inside and ah found him—”
Choking back a sob, the mare buried her face in the cloth. “Ah found him all cut up and bruised!”
Crux felt the cold claws of fear grip his heart as Varnish blew her nose into the kerchief like a foghorn.
“Merlot was injured? How badly?”
“H-he was bleedin’ pretty badly out of a cut in his side, wheezin’ and splutterin’ like he couldn’t catch his breath. It was all ah could do to keep him from bleedin’ out while one of the kitchen girls ran out to get a doctor.”
“He’s in the hospital?”
“Yessir, an ambulance took him a few hours ago. I’da went with him but someone had to be here when you got back.”
“What about the girls, are they safe?”
He almost fell to his knees as his heart stopped when Varnish hesitated, biting her lip and avoiding his eyes.
“They...they’re missin’ sir.”
The muscles in his face seized up as he stared blankly past the mare. Varnish stole hesitant glances up at him as his eyes were drawn to the yellow caution tape and he noticed the shattered window on the second floor of his house. The glass lay scattered on the grass, deep furrows dug into the ground. The small patch of uprooted turf held suddenly much more dire origins that Crux felt no inclination to ponder.
“Jet, darlin’?” Varnish whispered.
“I should have seen this coming.”
“Darlin’, answer me. That look’s startin’ to scare me.”
He turned to the mare in confusion before she shrank from his gaze. With a start he realized his face had been frozen into a glare and his brow ached as he relaxed the taut muscles.
“I apologize, Varnish. I let my emotions get the best of me.” As the maid relaxed slightly, he looked back at the uniformed ponies milling about the tape, collecting samples and questioning the few morning staff.
“Have the authorities discovered who may have done this yet, Varnish?”
“Sorry colt, but we have nothing to report yet.”
Crux eyed the older stallion that trotted closer. Puffing slowly on a large cigar wedged between his teeth, the off-white stallion scratched at the rough stubble on his chin absentmindedly and mumbled past the lit stogey. He extended his hoof and grasped Crux’s firmly in a hoofshake, which Crux returned.
“Captain Ash, I wish I could say it was a pleasure to see you again,” Crux said tilting his head in the direction of his house. “You have nothing to go on, you said?”
“We haven’t found even a single hair of evidence as to who might’ve done it, all we have to go on is the testimony of the staff that was on hand at the time of the incident and from the sight of him I don’t think we’ll be getting anything out of him anytime soon.”
Crux winced as Varnish whimpered, pressing the cloth against her face to stave off more tears.
“Oh, er, right. Sorry about that ma’am, I’m sure he’ll be just fine. The med-ponies around here do their jobs well, I can vouch for that.”
Sniffing morosely, the maid nodded before Crux placed a hoof on her shoulder and steered her toward the house. “Varnish, go get your things and go home. See that Merlot is alright and then get some rest.You have my thanks for staying, but Ash and I can take things from here.”
The two stallions watched the mare walk quietly back indoors, the captain’s cigar glowed with a dull red light as he sucked in a breath and sighed. “It’s a right pity that mare had to stumble in on something like that. I take it they have something?”
“Something like that. Tell me, Captain, you said you have nothing to go on?” The ponies walked past a cleanup crew who were hauling away a few of the larger pieces of glass. Ash took a long drag on his cigar before blowing a ring of smoke that flew down to settle on the furrows dug into the grass.
“Unfortunately. The most we can tell at this point is that the window at least probably wasn’t broken by the criminal.”
Crux raised a brow as he looked expectantly down at the shallow grooves. They hadn’t been dug very deep, so the impact had probably not been very hard. Glancing up at the empty window, Crux frowned slightly while trying to piece together how an adult pony could have leapt from a two story window and not—
Ash, who had been watching him carefully, nodded grimly as Crux’s jaw dropped in horror.
“Yeah, it looks like one of the foals was the jumper. Though if they were as young as your maid said they were, I wonder how they could have broken that window. Those panes looked thick and sturdy.”
“We also took the time to inspect the inside of the building, and strangely enough the only place that looked like it had been rummaged through was your office. Probably looking for something in particular. Do you have any ideas what they might’ve wanted, colt?”
Swallowing to ease the tightness in his throat as he rubbed a hoof across the pocket of his vest, Crux felt the weight of the etched silver and lump of crystal.
“I might have an idea.”
“Well, until that butler of yours wakes up any clues we have to go on would be helpful. If you know what they might’ve wanted then we could use that to narrow down a suspect.”
“It’s too soon to go crying wolf, Captain, but I have a few suspicions. If it’s not too much trouble would you mind going through City Hall’s immigration records and seeing if anypony showed up recently with registration from the Amber Forest or High Peaks?”
The Captain’s cigar spat a wisp of smoke as the pony blinked. “Of course, if you think it’ll help. Any reason for those cities in particular? They’re almost on the opposite side of the Empire.
“Like I said, I have my suspicions. Thank you, Captain.”
Crux walked away from the surprised captain and clean up ponies, moving slowly into his house. As he walked past the open doors and halls dimly lit with the few rays of sunlight that managed to penetrate the leftover cloud layer, he felt something unsettling about the place that was his home. Crux largely ignored the few members of staff who stopped him to ask hesitant questions, answering them with as few words as possible. Even the blood stain on the carpet that had been cordoned off as the place where Merlot had met their unwelcome guest was passed over with little recognition.
As the lord stepped into his office and his eyes roamed over the scattered books and overturned desk they settled on the open globe of Equestria that lay on its side, its precious contents scattered over the carpet.
He didn't have to inspect them. He knew what was missing already.
“There have been rumors spreading among the lords of similar break-ins and Torc, Jasper and the other troublemakers have been speaking with one of the contemporary lords. A Lord Cruciger, I believe.”
He had his suspicions, alright.
Taking a slow step into his gutted bastion, the shark crack of glass under his hoof brought him up short. Stepping back and glancing down, Crux was afforded a view of the mysterious object.
Olive’s cracked coke-bottle glasses.
It was then, as he lifted the damaged lenses up to his eyes with all the delicacy that he could muster that Crux realized what it was that had felt unsettling about his home.
It was quiet.
He had lived in this house for his entire life. He had forsworn relationships with any ponies save his parents and staff for all those years in favor of seclusion and study. The silence of the house and its peaceful air had soaked into his past and personality. And now, as he stared unblinking at the glasses with its cracked lense and bent rim, he realized that it had only taken a month with those two foals to become accustomed to constant sound.
He couldn’t stand the sound of an empty house.
Somepony had broken into his home, which only two days ago had been filled with shrieking laughter and shouting. He suddenly found himself wishing to hear the dry rustle of Olive’s magic turning pages or the creak of Silver jumping up and down on her bed. The giddy shriek as they helped Varnish bake cookies or even the sound of Olive smugly tapping these glasses up the bridge of her muzzle.
Not that it made a sound, mind you. It just felt like it did.
Somepony had broken into his home and stolen away the sound. They had snuck in in the dead of night and harmed his family, stolen away the noise which made these old walls feel closer and warmer.
And that made him angry. He felt the shock and suppressed fear that had welled up within his mind earlier flare to bright, roaring life at the cracked spark that he held in his magic. The anger surged through his heart like a black tide and he could feel it sweep away everything except the need to find whoever had done this.
And, oh, he would make them pay.
He could feel the lump in his vest vibrate as cold, approving laughter rang in his ears, but he paid it no heed.
She’d just known leaving bed had been a bad idea.
Shifting carefully under the sacks in the back of the carriage, Silver tried in vain to ease the pressure on her damaged wing. It had gotten pretty bruised up when she’d hit the ground after jumping from that window.
She shivered and quickly repressed that memory. Waves of cold ran down her spine every time she remembered being thrown out of that window. If it hadn’t been for flight instinct taking over in midair she probably would have landed on her back or on her head, and then there wouldn’t be any pony left to make a daring rescue for Olive.
Not that rescuing her would be easy, or even possible for that matter. She’d been running on adrenaline when she’d made the decision to follow the pony that had foalnapped Olive and once it had worn off, she had been forced to admit that her wing and right foreleg had been bruised fairly badly.
She sighed as her mind ran through the night before once again.
~~~~~~~~~~
The thief had been less interested in her and her prize when he’d noticed the open globe and made a beeline for it, watching her the whole time. He had pulled some sort of metal necklace out of the junk Crux kept in his stash and it had seemed like what he’d broken into the house for in the first place, judging from the way he hefted it satisfyingly in his hoof.
At least it was before it vanished into thin air with a crack and glow of light green magic.
That had been pretty awesome. Silver hadn’t known Olive could put things into a little pocket dimension. Now she knew where Olive kept all of her stashed goodies. Too bad you can’t pick the lock on an alternate dimension. Phooey.
Olive hadn’t been visible before thanks to the angle of the desk she’d been hiding behind but when the thief had spun around, the green glow of her horn as she dashed out from behind the desk toward the hallway certainly made quick work of that.
“Run, Silver! Don’t let him get the disc!”
The stallion had made a wild grab for the filly but tripped over a tan coated leg that hadn’t been in his path a moment ago. Leaping onto his head and then off into the hallway, Silver clutched her disc in her feathers and took off after her sister.
Silver looked over her shoulder to see the thief snorting angrily and barreling down the hallway after them. Now, being a sleuth herself and idolizing her hero Prancy Drew, Silver knew the necessity for an investigator to keep herself in good physical condition just in case her quick wits and razor tongue weren’t enough. She knew that even with him being older and larger than her, she was fast and a pegasus on top of that. She could outrun him easily.
Her bookworm sister who had to switch to three legs every few seconds to push her glasses up her nose? Not so much.
And so, being the brave and awesome pony she was, she had taken it upon herself to use all of the various available tables, vases and suits of armor scattered throughout the hall for a much greater purpose.
Like tripping featherheaded adults.
The one thing she hadn’t counted on though was being caught. She’d underestimated the weight of one of the suits of armor, it had looked like it was from some other country whose name couldn’t be pronounced by anypony other than the most wizened of sages or Olive, and the stallion had grabbed her by a leg as she’d spun around.
She couldn’t tell through the black clothing he was wearing, but she guessed he was covered in bruises from all of the furniture being knocked into him and the way he was growling and snorting at her with bloodshot eyes made her feel that that guess wasn’t too far off. With a roar he had lifted her over his head and hurled her at the nearest breakable object, which in their current position in the hallway had happened to be a window.
It had been a sturdy window, but that stallion had been strong and an earth pony. She’d broken right through it and gone sailing out into the rain over the estate grounds.
Most of her mind had gone blank when she’d recovered from the impact with the glass and realized he’d thrown her out the window, but thankfully her body hadn’t forgotten it was a pegasus and had started flapping her wings. It was right before she hit the ground that she remembered she was holding onto the disc with one of those wings, and therefore couldn’t get full use out of the appendage.
And boy, it had hurt.
Even though she landed in the grass and the rain had soaked the ground into a softer mud, she’d still fallen quite a ways before impact and had gained a fair amount of momentum. Thankfully, she was small and light so she had managed to lose enough speed with her wings to land without breaking anything.
Her head was still reeling from the sound of impact, which had been a thud she’d heard with her entire body rather than her ears, when the glass from the window rained down around her with the sound of a spinning crystal chandelier. Her ears did hear, however, the sound of a familiar voice screaming in panic.
“Olive!”
With a groan, she hauled herself out of the furrow she’d carved in the ground and stumbled through the bushes and trees as fast as she could haul her sore body.
She pushed her way through a bush and peaked out between the leaves as the stallion burst out of the front door and into the rain, a sack slung over his shoulder. Silver’s excellent skills in deduction told her uneq-unoq- without doubt that Olive was in that bag. Mostly because bags without ponies in them don’t squirm around like ponies trapped in bags.
Pulling a hood over his head, the stallion tightened his grip on the bag and trotted off into the night.
Once she was certain he wouldn’t see her, she’d galloped from her hiding place and back into the house. Taking the stairs two at a time, she rushed into her room, grabbed Olive’s and her own saddlebags and rocketed out the doors and after her sister.
~~~~~~~~~~
Silver sighed internally again as the carriage she’d stolen into jumped over another knot in the road.
She’d been lucky to spot the thief again as he had made his way through town. Being unable to fly with her bruised wing and the weight of two saddlebags had meant she’d had to trot after him on hoof. Luckily, Olive had made it difficult for him to set a quick pace, squirming in the bag and making muffled shouts.
That is, until he’d slung the sack around a few times to quiet her.
Silver bit her lip, quivering in rage every time she visualized it. She’d get that plothead back for hurting Olive.
She had watched from a dark alley as he had met up with two other hooded ponies and dropped the bag in front of them. Silver had snorted and rolled her eyes, what was this bring your fellow cultpony to work day? Which had brought another thought to Silver’s mind.
Why did every evil pony have to dress up in black robes and hoods? Did evil organisations have an ‘only black’ dress code? Silver herself preferred wearing hoodies. She’d seen this one hoodie in a local shop that had looked so cute.
And she reminded herself again to never say that in front of Olive.
They had taken Olive and put her into a carriage parked outside an inn that had taken two hours in the rain to walk to before leaving her there for the night. Silver had tried to get inside but it looked like the unicorn the two stallions had with them had magicked the locks, so rather than break her picks, Silver had settled for stashing herself inside with the luggage in the back.
Silver had started becoming rather disenchanted with the whole daring rescue shpiel. Prancy Drew made it seem a lot more interesting in her books. But if there was one thing Silver wasn’t doing it was abandoning Olive, so she hid herself under the luggage as well as she could and had settled down for the longest night of her life.
She had woken up to the jostling of the carriage as it swung over ruts and hills in the road, and she had never been more sore in her life. Her legs hurt, her chest ached, her wings were stiffer than three day old chewing gum and her head felt like it had been used in the park as a soccer ball.
And that was before the stallion with the thick accent driving the vehicle started singing some sort of endless, horrifying shanty.
Horribly, horribly off-key.
But despite all her own discomforts, the most worrisome thing about her situation was Olive. Silver had no way to tell if her sister was okay aside from the occasional cries and whimpers she could hear through the thin wooden panel that separated her from the inside of the carriage.
She could only lay in the cramped compartment, silent for fear of being found as she listened to Olive’s fearful sobs.
And it hurt.
Why had Crux had to leave that night? When they needed him the most, he hadn’t been there.
He was supposed to be their guardian, right? And here they were, Olive trapped in a small room with two foalnappers and she stuffed into a luggage compartment.
Really, when it came down to it, you couldn’t trust parents. She’d learned that the hard way.
But this was no time to spend moping about what could have happened differently. Her sister, the only pony in the world who meant more to her than herself, was in trouble and needed rescue. And when they arrived where they were headed, she’d be ready.
Wherever they were headed. Hopefully it wasn't the land of luggage compartments.
Stats
Page generated in 0.023 seconds
Total duration
902 users online
480,053 hits today, 1,996,409 yesterday
FIMFiction
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
Designed and coded by knighty & Xaquseg - © 2011-2024
Follow & Support Us
Support us
SubStar
Chat!
Discord
Follow us
Twitter
MLP: Friendship is Magic® - © 2024 Hasbro Inc.®
Fimfiction is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by Hasbro Inc.®
Nicely done, is what I think. I couldn't find any spelling/grammar mistakes, but I only read over once, so...yeah. No offense, but I couldn't find how this chapter was any different from previous chapters. A lot of backstory and descriptions blended with the story. Maybe that means you didn't need advice?
Never expected Silver to despise parents as she did, though. I was a little irritated at how she blamed Crux, but then I realized she and Olive are just children. Her behavior's expected and reasonable, but it still gets to me when someone irrationally blames someone. Maybe that's a sign I'm not ready to be a parent yet.
Now the "Adventure" tag shows itself. What do these discs entail? Who are these cliche cloak-wearing ponies? Why hasn't more people read this yet??? When will you upload the next chapter? Find out in "Somber Ties", next time!!! (I say to no one in particular with a dramatic voice)
3809880
There's always room to improve, I feel. And even if I'm actually doing pretty well, its always good to get a fresh perspective.
I'm glad you see Silver's irrationality and her somewhat naive perspective, but after all she's just a child. And don't worry, if being capable of dealing with children's quirks was a requirement in being a parent, we'd have a lot less parents.
I like this chapter and story... ...But I don't/can't see any improvements. Sorry.
Muhuhahaha! If there's one thing I have in abundance, it's ideas!
You did it!
You did it! You did it! You did it!
A round of Golden Grammar Cider for everypony!
Glowed, actually.
Glew is apparently an alternate spelling for glue. Maybe.
Tell me, Captain,
Commas go before and after the speaker addresses someone.
Ash, who had been watching him carefully, nodded[...]
I'm not really sure how to explain this, if i'll be honest. I think that the part of the sentence i've separated with commas is an aside, extra information that isn't necessary for the sentence to be a full thought. So, as an aside, it is kind of sort of set aside by the commas, or something like that. I think it's one of those things you gotta feel, but maybe i'm just not quite the know-it-all I thought I was.
But I would like to mention you did it correctly here:
If I was you, which of course I am not, I would italicize the entire flash-back. Just to drive home the point that it is, in fact, a flashback.
And it would be especially welcome in pointing out exactly where the flashback ends. I had a little trouble with that.
I have a thought about that, honestly.
I would put the contents of the flashback at the beginning of the chapter. Then, you could use Silver's observations to introduce Rivet, Grout, and [Name Redacted]. It would also flow from the end of the last chapter and keep things rolling. I admit that the unmentioned (until the flashback) events left me feeling jarred, and unsure of whether I missed a chapter or not.
You could still finish the chapter as you did, with Silver fuming about parental absence in the back of her cart. It would make for a fun "book ends" effect, too.
Buuut, like I keep saying, that's just my advice.
Thaaat's enough back-seat writing for now, I think.
There's that delightful character-strewn narration that I enjoy so much!
It gives your writing a fun, keep-things-moving feel. Always learning a little more about the characters, always getting interesting descriptions of stuff, and always quirky fun when in the head of characters like Silver.
Don't make me beg for you to keep it up, because I will beg, you know. It shan't be pretty.
Rivet... I'm sorry, dude. You're done. You are really, really done. I mean, I hate to say it, but you've just stepped in it. You've tied your own noose. You've dug your own grave. You've cooked your goose. You've stuck a fork in yourself.
Silver will hunt you down, and she will kill you with her "quick wits and razor tongue."
Oh, and you may have sent Jet into a Cradle-infused berserker rage, but that's nothing against Silver Sleuth's wrath.
Speaking of Silver, I suspect there's a little more "baggage" in the back of that carriage than just the luggage type.
It burns, Precious! It freezes!
Best advice i've had for writer's block is to write anyway, and then when the chapter looks terrible to your eyes, you can either start anew, or chop up and rearrange what you have. That, or you can write something else for a time until your internal reserves recharge.
Try not to hold out on writing for writer's block. An object at rest tends to stay at rest.
HA!
3820201
Thanks for the catches, they've been hewn with the editing scythe like so many stalks of wheat!
That glew typo irks me though. I corrected it, but glowed just doesn't seem to flow as well. And that surprises me, I would have thought there would be a word for 'to have glowed' but I guess English just likes to be difficult like that.
And I tried something new for designating the flashback, I hope it satisfies.
Thank you for your most dedicated assistance, Scribe!
interesting story. Very fast paced and it flows real well
3827042
I'm glad you think so!
3838246
Yes, I really need to sit down and spend an hour re-editing all those older chapters! It keeps slipping my mind in between classes, work and writing new chapters, so thanks for the reminder.
Y'know what? I'mma do it now.
Aw, poor Crux. Silver can't trust him even now.