seol_plumfall: (empty) kept its gaze steady on the hippogryph as she drew closer, cocked her head, and began to tentatively beak at the rising stream of smoke. )

It didn't move, didn't speak, not until the hippogryph had drawn back to peer at the knight with critical amber eyes. It leaned back, then, to take pipe in hand once more and look sidelong at the Sentinel, Scourge-blue eyes narrowed. "She has a name," came that dead voice, soft and low. "It's Bonnie."

It took a moment for Atalania to recover her wits... )

[the remainder to be posted later!]
seol_plumfall: (djanie)

"Catch anything good?"

I look over my shoulder only briefly at the man who's dropped to a crouch beside me; he's smiling hesitantly, shoulders hunched. It's a smile full of inarticulate masculinity, a fear-grimace he wears when he realizes he can't dance around whatever embarrassingly emotional topic is about to come up. The smile is worse, in a lot of ways, than any of his snarls or grimaces. I look back at the sea.

The pause is awkward and long and noisy, the sighs of the waves competing with the pounding of the blood in my ears. )

seol_plumfall: (seol)

The young elf leaned his head back against the cushions, watching the violet-skinned girl dry her hair. With those fragile wrists and tiny fingers, her small body curving forward, the delicate shapes of her spine and shoulderblades showing through the thin cloth of her undershirt, she was roughly scrubbing her head and horns without a hint of elegance or grace. She lowered the cloth and tossed her wet hair, sneezed, and smeared her nose against her arm; then she blinked as the boy began to laugh at her.

He restrained his chuckling and shook his head, a characteristic awkward smile twisting his lips, and waved apologetically at the glaring girl. "You are cute," he said, truthfully.

Read more... )
seol_plumfall: (astro)

This is a story about a king who had one daughter. This young princess was famous throughout the small kingdom for her gentleness and wisdom, and the farmers and merchants would request her help with their disputes whenever she toured the towns and countryside. The people loved and trusted her judgment, and the king, too, loved her very much.

The eighth decenniversary of the princess's birth approached, and her father wished to host a banquet in her honor. But he found himself in a quandary. He wished to import the finest, rarest luxuries for her – the blushing peaches frosted with moonlight from the northernmost forests of Kalimdor or the fragrant violet berries plucked from the mountains of southern Terokkar. But his was but a small kingdom, and with his limited wealth, he could only furnish the banquet one of these two delicacies. Only the sweetest fruit in the world would do for his peerless daughter, and he did not know whether to trust the bards of Darnassus or those of Shattrath, who both sang paeans to the bounty of their respective homelands.

And so one day... )
seol_plumfall: (astro)

The mixing bowls at the Aldor Rise inn were very big and very shiny. Astrolabe marveled at her distorted expression; tilting it this way, her forehead shrank and her mouth widened terrifyingly. She looked quite a bit like Helaah. Laughing, she lifted up the bowl and turned it around, showing Helaah the kitchen; was it the way she remembered?

Astro was sure, at least, that when her mother had been an Aldor priestess there had never been anyone here so pale and pink-skinned as that man; she captured his reflection in the bowl to show Helaah, the blurry figure of a dark-haired elf holding out a hand to her, asking smilingly, "That?"

Read more... )