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Her Father's Daughter"I see you've told Father."
The Alchemist continued to twist the bolt down, speaking without looking up. In the doorway to the workroom, the Acolyte turned to face him. He raised his eyebrows and adjusted his glasses before moving on to a second pinion. A smell like wood smoke, cold steel and struck matches lingered in the air, and to the Alchemist it smelled like home. To the Acolyte, it smelled of things unlike magic, and it made her shudder to consider the lethality of the Marksman's creations. Surely these things, these mechanical objects, were an affront to all Gods but one alone.
It was the whim of that one God that troubled her.
"He wouldn't hear me." She whispered bitterly, watching as he twisted wire together with his remaining hand. She wished that whoever had taken his left arm had bothered to finish the job they had started, but such dreams often went unfulfilled. Her own h
the Blood of Yoggash'nighlThe giant of a monster rose from its slumber, snow that lay previously unbroken scattering from its thick pelt like embers form a fire. In the dead twilight of dawn, the great bear-beast was almost alone. From the jagged crags of rock and ice, high above the cave where Yoggash'nighl made its bed, an old wolf leaned his head from the protection of the stone around him. The frigid winter winds of the south tried to bite into his exposed flesh, sending needles of ice into the thick, gnarled scars that hatched his body and marred his thick winter coat. Despite this, the Wood Wolf did not flinch. He had lived for years already, and he should have died many times over. One more bad winter in the far highlands of Mendice was far from the harshest of conditions.
The Wood Wolf crouched low, his muscles straining for a moment before he leapt from his rocky plateau and into the snowdrifts beneath him. Yoggash'nighl jerked its ursin
a dangerous hallucinationThe light coming through the window was bright,
much too bright.
Even though my eyes were closed
I could see it-
The skin of my arms prickled,
sweat dripped from my brow.
It was two in the afternoon but…
the sun was setting
through the window facing east.
I should have seen the hutch,
shelves lined with bone china
decorated with delicate leaves and vines.
I was so thirsty
and reaching for cups that should have been there.
Instead I found a billboard of butterflies,
the colors raging
more than any rainbow
I'd ever seen.
Their wings fluttered and flashed
yet somehow they moved in slow motion.
I wanted to stand,
wanted to reach out and touch them but…
I couldn't move,
and yet I laughed
ignoring my dry mouth
and the tingling in my feet.
There was a tempest
on the rise
and in my blood.
A sugar rush disguised
as a riot of butterflies
and they were swarming me.
There was a small vial
of insulin in my pocket
that I nev
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More