The sacrificial flames licked the cool night air with blasphemous tongues. The charred body ceased writhing a few moments after the victim’s screams ended. At first, he begged for his life, but once the altar was lit, his pleas transformed into wordless, guttural groans, then silence, then death, and now it was time for the feast.
Beside me, they threw off their cloaks—they were naked beneath,…
Adanaq born of two mothers is the goddess of the hunt, the wilderness and farming in the Suqwat pantheon. When her rival mothers both attempted to pit the spirited goddess against one another Adanaq fled to the mortal realm where she was raised by an old hermit woman and her family of talking oxen. Adanaq appears as a pretty, round-faced girl in white fur with a bow and bone spear slung on her back.
A/N: Unbeta-ed work but I hope whoever reads this will like it and let me know what you think. Critique is greatly appreciated. Thanks!
Danika practically lunged out of her seat as she woke up, the seatbelt being the only thing stopping her from nearly slamming into the overhead.
She could hear the woman’s voice echoing as she heaved heavily “It’s the only way to break my curse” slender fingers tugged at golden, red locks as the young woman steadied the rapid beating of her heart.
“Are you alright?” the elderly woman sitting next to her asked, lightly touching the younger woman’s shoulder. Danika attempted to smile “I’m alright, it was just a dream” the strawberry blonde turned to look out the plane window.
The dream changed from the ones she had had before. More and more details had become clearer than the previous night. Maybe she would finally get the answers she had been looking for when she arrived.
The plane had begun its descent while Danika slept but now more awake she could see wide ranges of green fields and lines of trees drew closer and closer, farther out she could make out some of the houses and roads.
She allowed herself to smile, feeling the excitement that had been overtaken by anxiousness finally bubble in her chest, maybe she could enjoy herself for once.
Golden red hair swayed as she bobbed her head to music coming softly from her earphones, Danika was one among many who were waiting for their luggage to come around, there was no hurry since her relatives were still on the way. This was the first time she would be meeting them in person, not just hearing their voices or looking at them through a screen, and now wished she’d brought something.
But this wasn’t a vacation, she had reasons for coming here.
The music immediately cut off, the caller ringtone replacing it. Assuming it was one of her relatives she took the call.
The young woman went stiff at the sound of his voice. Her name had been said that way before, coldly, in disappointment and exhaustion as if she was the cause of every problem they had. Her father said it that way often, and it looked like her brother would be picking up the habit.
“Why are you in Ir-”
She hung up on him. She gently pulled at the wires, letting the buds hang around her shoulders, the sounds around her faded until she could only hear the sound of her heartbeat booming in her ears. Numbness was all she felt, too many thoughts were racing around in her mind. Her brother knew she was here and if he were her father she would have a team of bodyguards coming after her as soon as possible, they would bring her home kicking and screaming if they had to then her father would punish her for it.
Her brother was not their father. However, she wasn’t sure that was a good thing either.
When she got out of the building, after finally snapping out of her thoughts and getting her suitcase, the young woman peered around others as she walked out. She was about to walk further down when someone yelled out her name. Turning, she quickly spotted a woman waving wildly at her, holding a sign with Danika's name.
The woman's long, dark hair tangled in the breeze as she made her way towards the younger woman, her light brown eyes brightened with glee.
Danika took in the woman's features as she moved closer and closer, all the young woman could do was stare. She was unsure how to handle this situation, on one hand they were family but on the other they were practically strangers. There was no time for an internal debate, she put on her usual, polite smile and extended her hand.
But before Danika could get a word out of her mouth, the dark haired woman enveloped her in a tight hug. Danika stiffened before forcing herself to relax, awkwardly patting her back in response.
“It’s so good to finally meet you” she grinned at me “I’m Cara” she began steering the younger woman to their car, still chatting gleefully while all Danika could do was nod. “Sean was so excited to see you after so long but there was a work emergency this morning” She laughed “You should have seen his face when he found out”
The name lit a lightbulb in her mind. Sean was one of her many cousins, a little older than her brother. She’d met him a few times when she was video chatting with her aunt, who had also tagged her on social media when he got married at the end of last year.
Sean and Cara lived in a one bedroom apartment in Arbour Hill, upon entering the unit the first thing Danika could see was the small dining table, pushed up against the wall, beyond it was the living area. To the right of the entryway was the kitchen, there were two doors, one beyond the kitchen and one next to the television stand, either one leading to the bedroom or the bathroom.
The apartment wasn’t grand, the furniture wasn’t ungodly expensive and the décor wasn’t massive or famous. Everything was the complete opposite, simple, clean and comfortable.
“Sean mentioned a few things about you and your brother. This probably isn’t what you’re used to but I hope you’ll be comfortable even though it’s only for a night”
Danika turned to say something but Cara was already in the kitchen fixing up the take-out she bought on the way home. Sean and Cara had opened their home to her and had been welcoming from the moment Cara saw her at the airport the least she could say something nice.
The strawberry blonde took a deep breath to calm her heart hammering in her chest.
The dark haired woman turned to her “Hmm?”
This was it, just a few simple and kind words “I...uh...where’s the bathroom”
Exhaustion had finally caught up with Danika by the end of lunch. She changed into more comfortable clothing, a loose fitting t-shirt, sweatpants and her favorite pair of fluffy flip-flops. Cara had shown her the bedroom, it minimalistic like the rest of the apartment. The bed was at the center, two nightstands on either side of the bed, the closet by the door and a small desk across from it.
Danika had just settled into bed for a nap but despite the physical exhaustion, her mind had too many thoughts for it to settle. Her brother’s call earlier was on the forefront of her mind, worried about what he might do or if he would do anything at all. Her father had used their family’s considerable resources to empower himself. Used his money to gain the favor of law enforcement, used his status to “befriend” other people of power and used the power to make sure people fell in line.
But he was gone now and Connor had taken his place. Connor was smarter, more charming and had quickly gained the employees’ respect and fear. However, his motivations still eluded her and he would never talk about family business to someone he considered a child, despite her age, someone who still believed in fairytales and curses.
Danika groaned and snuggled as deep as she could into her pillow, and eventually her body found rest, but in her mind, in her dreams, she found herself watching a missing part of an old family tale.
It always felt real when she woke up. Danika could feel the softness of the thin blanket beneath her fingertips, could smell the scent of gardenias from the bouquet that sat on the table and when she began to move around the small space it was as if she were really there.
Once exiting the bedroom, one would see a wooden, square table with chairs on all sides. A small kitchen, two tables and a chimney with a metal pot at the center of the firepit.
But it was always the door, behind one of the dining chairs, that drew her attention. The scene behind it changed everything she knew about the story that was passed down from one generation to another. The garden behind the cottage was lush and filled with all kinds of vegetables, fruit, flowers and herbs growing in sections of the garden. However what really drew her attention was a little ways beyond the garden.
She saw a man and woman under the thick branches of the old tree as she moved closer. She could only assume they were the couple in the story, the prince and the healer torn apart by the prince’s choices.
“ I don’t understand why you keep returning when my answer will be the same as before” the woman asked softly, never looking away from the mounds of newly settled soil.
“ My wife is pregnant, she lives in constant fear because of what you have done” he told her “Thea wouldn’t want-”
The woman turned, finally facing him. Her amber eyes bright with fury, looking at him with such hatred causing Danika to flinch.
“You have no right to say her name” she seethed “You are the reason why she had to join her garden, why she and her child needed to be laid to rest beneath us”
Danika’s eyes widened then turned to the two mounds close to the tree, one was much smaller than the other and each had a garland of flowers that hung off a wooden marker, etched on each marker was what looked like a moonflower. It was clear to anyone who saw the markers that it was a burial mound.
The prince’s eyes darkened and his jaw tightened “What do you want?” he gritted his teeth.
“I want Thea’s torque” she said then her eyes moved to look at Danika’s “That’s the only way to break my curse”
Located in the City of All Prophets, the religious capital of the Ventrist faith the Gallery of Saints & Martyrs is a hallowed repository of sacred relics. Most of the relics are mundane objects that belonged to the many saints and martyrs including weapons, prayer beads, chalices and other ritual objects that hold historical value but little else. The most sacred relics, those imbued with sacred power are not on display though reasonable facsimiles are on display with few the wiser.
Most pilgrims do not come to the gallery to gaze upon the burial shroud or silver fork of some long dead saint - they come to see the saints themselves. Sealed in glass caskets and other vessels are the bodies, or body parts of hundreds of Ventrist saints and martyrs. Dressed in shining raiment some of the corpses on display are uncannily pristine while others are skeletal or somewhere in between. With many saints and martyrs having reached grisly ends often only parts of their bodies were recovered such as the mummified head of Saint Ignatius the Tall, the golden locks of Saint Theodoria or the charred hand of Saint Helmarick the Hammer.
Most folks not of the Ventrist faith find the display of corpses in the gallery morbid or in the least unnerving - because it is. While unsettling the gallery is also quite peaceful and a testament to the faith of hundreds of men and women that died believing they were making the world a better place. I suggest a visit to the gallery but I implore you to be respectful...sometimes the dead are still listening.
For the longest time Danika expected to live her scheduled life until she died. Pain and sorrow a constant in her family for centuries all because of a curse. Well at least that's what her grandmother believed.
But a dream may very well point to the curse as the culprit along with a way to break it. The only lead Danika has points to her family's homeland and there she meets new and old friends that help her on her mission to save her family's future.
However the past has a tendency to become an obstacle in one's hopes for a better tomorrow. With a curse, family enemies and their own personal demons, Danika and her friends will need each other to get through the difficulties that are ahead.
#seriously when I wrote papers I had detailed notes and outlines and I knew exactly when I was going to write about #now when I write fan fiction it’s a bunch of gibberish and the writing equivalent of throwing spaghetti at the wall #writer woes#fan fiction#creative writing #writing is hard
There’s a draft inside the apartment. Hail’s roommate is fast asleep while covered with two blankets on the couch. A damp spot grows slowly under her cheek. She dreams that she arrives late to an appointment which is happening in a continuous loop. She’s sweating with anxiety and hopes to make it on time to the next appointment. She has not an ounce of interest in waking up to be spared from it…
#this isn’t about anyone I’m just bored and listening to hozier #imagine being in love couldn’t be me #my writing #writers on tumblr #writing#creative writing #you ever WANT to be in love but just aren’t bc ppl succ
You're the warmth
that begins and ends
my days, the place I
can escape to when
the world becomes too much.
You're my partner
in all things good and bad,
you're the strength that
holds me when I'm broken.
You're my safe space to suffer,
the comfort I need to heal.
Not a day goes by that
I don't know how lucky
I am to have you.
what am i scared of,what is this fear.i'm not scared of what's making me scared.the cults and the demon bears aren't what i'm scared of.well maybe the demon bears.but that's not what i envision envision nothing but it scares me,i know not what scares me.so why am i so afraid
I remember one time I was at a so called "black metal bar" and they wouldn't let me play scarlxrd because it's not black metal, but they let the next guy play prayers. I dislike prayers because of that, among many reasons that involve bad memories or memories tainted by time.
I feel hate for those who did nothing more than being in the way of my misdirected anger, I feel devotion for those who appeased themselves in my pain.
Sitting outside under the cloudy day, I'm smoking weed and riding on an anxiety attack I didn't recognize until I could feel my skin beginning to boil. The doctor said my pain tolerance is unusually high and my body adapts very quickly to change, so that's how I've managed to survive this far and so functional while carrying a casket around all the time.
What actually hurts is inside me and made up of several corpses tied together with barbed wire, bleeding moonlights from a dawning sky.
I'm trying to suck the venom out of my own wounds at the same time I inflict more. Life goes on in a slow and miserable way: I lose more weight, my nails break, there's always a shadow behind my back and nothing in this world that can make the darkness fade.
I have no other choice but to keep moving on, and trust things will turn out better in the end.
Person A is an kidnapper/assassin who targets rich families and steals their children, ransoming them back for huge amounts of money, partly because they lost their own child, believed to be dead. Person B was a child adopted by a wealthy family for the sake of their image, but never really fit in. One day, Person A kidnaps Person B, but Person B wants to stay with Person A, because they relate to Person A better than any of their wealthy adopted family. And Person A notices some strange similarities between themself and Person B — who is the same age their lost and assumed dead child would have been.