palemoon2035
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This story is beautiful. You are both so creative and amazing writers. I'm so glad you are posting more.
Thyri's humble little shack out back
- Thread starter Annisthyrienne
- Start date
This story is beautiful. You are both so creative and amazing writers. I'm so glad you are posting more.
Annisthyrienne
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Enough!
(An excerpt from a chat I had tonight with someone very special to me. She let me ramble on for a bit, and it turned out to be therapeutic. So I'm putting it here to remember for the next time I go through this.)
*So what is the change you mentioned on Lit? *
thyri72: Oh, just changing my av, changing my sig, changing my attitude, changing my outlook.
thyri72: I'm putting on a new virtual face in hopes that I can change the way I've been feeling.
thyri72: Changed my profile picture too.
thyri72: Just..changing. I was getting sick of the way I see myself.
thyri72: Or the way I was seeing myself.
I've been pretty introspective all day, thinking about why I get this way.
And I decided it doesn't make much sense to keep doing it. So I decided to stop it.
I've been making myself sad and depressed over a date on the calendar.
It is more than 20 years removed from the actual event that affected me,
but because I mark the date in my memory, I dredge up the feelings every year.
And something made me realize how ridiculous it all is: the notion that if I can just get through this certain date, then I'll be fine and everything will somehow go back to normal.
Like once the clock strikes midnight tonight, I'll just be fine again, because 'the date' will be past.
Well, if I can be fine just like that when tomorrow comes, then why not anytime I feel like I want to be fine?
And I am sick of being sad and depressed.
I miss my baby, but what is there to really miss?
She was stillborn. It's not like she was a presence in my life long enough to really miss it when it isn't there anymore.
So I asked myself what I was really so sad about.
And it struck me that I was sad about the tragedy of the event itself; that it happened to me, that I experienced it, and it seems so unfair how it all turned out.
I thought I was missing my baby. But what I was actually missing was the potential for what might have been, not what actually was.
And how could I really miss that?
So enough.
It makes no sense to keep doing this to myself, to keep putting myself through it.
That happened. a long time ago. But its over and done with, and life is for the living of it, not the endless pining over what seems unfair.
And if I am truthful about it, that event is part of what created the 'me' that I am.
If there is anything about me that is to be lauded, I should be thankful that it happened to shape me the way it did.
It's time I started seeing it as a blessing instead of a tragedy.
(An excerpt from a chat I had tonight with someone very special to me. She let me ramble on for a bit, and it turned out to be therapeutic. So I'm putting it here to remember for the next time I go through this.)
*So what is the change you mentioned on Lit? *
thyri72: Oh, just changing my av, changing my sig, changing my attitude, changing my outlook.
thyri72: I'm putting on a new virtual face in hopes that I can change the way I've been feeling.
thyri72: Changed my profile picture too.
thyri72: Just..changing. I was getting sick of the way I see myself.
thyri72: Or the way I was seeing myself.
I've been pretty introspective all day, thinking about why I get this way.
And I decided it doesn't make much sense to keep doing it. So I decided to stop it.
I've been making myself sad and depressed over a date on the calendar.
It is more than 20 years removed from the actual event that affected me,
but because I mark the date in my memory, I dredge up the feelings every year.
And something made me realize how ridiculous it all is: the notion that if I can just get through this certain date, then I'll be fine and everything will somehow go back to normal.
Like once the clock strikes midnight tonight, I'll just be fine again, because 'the date' will be past.
Well, if I can be fine just like that when tomorrow comes, then why not anytime I feel like I want to be fine?
And I am sick of being sad and depressed.
I miss my baby, but what is there to really miss?
She was stillborn. It's not like she was a presence in my life long enough to really miss it when it isn't there anymore.
So I asked myself what I was really so sad about.
And it struck me that I was sad about the tragedy of the event itself; that it happened to me, that I experienced it, and it seems so unfair how it all turned out.
I thought I was missing my baby. But what I was actually missing was the potential for what might have been, not what actually was.
And how could I really miss that?
So enough.
It makes no sense to keep doing this to myself, to keep putting myself through it.
That happened. a long time ago. But its over and done with, and life is for the living of it, not the endless pining over what seems unfair.
And if I am truthful about it, that event is part of what created the 'me' that I am.
If there is anything about me that is to be lauded, I should be thankful that it happened to shape me the way it did.
It's time I started seeing it as a blessing instead of a tragedy.
Last edited:
Annisthyrienne
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Annisthyrienne
Drive-by mischief maker
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Quotes to remember
My Favorite Quotes right now:
"Candace, this depression and sadness are unbecoming of you. You're better than this, so get up, get over it, and get on with it." By the little voice in my head that let's me know enough is more than enough.
"In your days of darkness, remember that you are a light for so many people. You are light. But I think I'm learning that it's sometime hard to see your own light when the darkness falls. Just because you can't see it, doesn't mean it's not there, and it radiates from you." By Sasha, the true Angel in our relationship, though she may not realize it yet.
"Crying washes you from the inside out. Just think...It's like getting rid of emotional mud." By Nina, the woman who made me cry by making me see myself.
My Favorite Quotes right now:
"Candace, this depression and sadness are unbecoming of you. You're better than this, so get up, get over it, and get on with it." By the little voice in my head that let's me know enough is more than enough.
"In your days of darkness, remember that you are a light for so many people. You are light. But I think I'm learning that it's sometime hard to see your own light when the darkness falls. Just because you can't see it, doesn't mean it's not there, and it radiates from you." By Sasha, the true Angel in our relationship, though she may not realize it yet.
"Crying washes you from the inside out. Just think...It's like getting rid of emotional mud." By Nina, the woman who made me cry by making me see myself.
Annisthyrienne
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New story idea: It Cums With the House
A young female realtor sets up a showing for a handsome young man, perhaps a talented sports professional who has been assigned to her city, but not a huge celebrity, more like minor league, but a big fish in this smaller pond, or potentially so. He is just known enough for her to be impressed and a little starstruck, but not overwhelmed.
As she is showing him the property, pointing out all the features, they enter a room that contains a large erotic painting along with a thick cushioned couch as the only furnishings. The couch is more of a lounger, like a divan from an old Victorian era baudy house, upholstered in crushed red velvet or something equally decadent. The portrait is of a nude woman obviously in the throes of orgasm. Her eyes seem to follow the viewer around the room, making direct contact from any angle the portrait is viewed. This gives the effect of personalizing the viewer, making them feel as if the look of ecstasy on her face is one they are giving her, or sharing with her.
The portrait could be of a madame who used to run a house of prostitution in the property, or perhaps it is of someone who used to own the property who never really was able to get fulfillment in life. But either way, the spirit of the person inhabits the property, and the portrait is their focus. The spirit seeks vicarious pleasure and sexual fulfillment from those who come into the house by influencing them through the portrait, causing extreme arousal and loosening of inhibitions.
Obviously the realtor and the young man, though they have hardly met before, are destined to get together thanks to the influence of the portrait. But the story could continue if the man decided he wants to buy the house specifically so he can use the portrait to have a constant stream of willing lovers in his new swinging bachelor love nest.
A young female realtor sets up a showing for a handsome young man, perhaps a talented sports professional who has been assigned to her city, but not a huge celebrity, more like minor league, but a big fish in this smaller pond, or potentially so. He is just known enough for her to be impressed and a little starstruck, but not overwhelmed.
As she is showing him the property, pointing out all the features, they enter a room that contains a large erotic painting along with a thick cushioned couch as the only furnishings. The couch is more of a lounger, like a divan from an old Victorian era baudy house, upholstered in crushed red velvet or something equally decadent. The portrait is of a nude woman obviously in the throes of orgasm. Her eyes seem to follow the viewer around the room, making direct contact from any angle the portrait is viewed. This gives the effect of personalizing the viewer, making them feel as if the look of ecstasy on her face is one they are giving her, or sharing with her.
The portrait could be of a madame who used to run a house of prostitution in the property, or perhaps it is of someone who used to own the property who never really was able to get fulfillment in life. But either way, the spirit of the person inhabits the property, and the portrait is their focus. The spirit seeks vicarious pleasure and sexual fulfillment from those who come into the house by influencing them through the portrait, causing extreme arousal and loosening of inhibitions.
Obviously the realtor and the young man, though they have hardly met before, are destined to get together thanks to the influence of the portrait. But the story could continue if the man decided he wants to buy the house specifically so he can use the portrait to have a constant stream of willing lovers in his new swinging bachelor love nest.
Daydream_weaver
Pondering possibilities
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I don't mean to intrude, but I had to tell you I really like this idea. I would definitely be reading it if you were to write it.
Annisthyrienne
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I don't mean to intrude, but I had to tell you I really like this idea. I would definitely be reading it if you were to write it.
Oh your posts are never an intrusion here. This thread is open to all.
I'm glad the idea is appealing. When I can get time to write it and the right co-writer for the role, it would be a fun one to do. And as always, any idea I post here is open to anyone who would like to run with it. I get the ideas, but I don't necessarily reserve them for myself. A good idea is a good idea, no matter who writes it.
The_gladiator
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I love you Thyri... I'm sorry I completely missed this this year. I remember that time was the very first time we ever spoke. you told me I cheered you up that day and I had no Idea I had. forgive me for forgetting. hugs you tight... you are strong my friend, stronger than many I know.
Annisthyrienne
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You never have to ask forgiveness from me, my friend. Thank you for remembering that conversation. You were and still are my first friend here on Lit. Even if time passes when we aren't in touch, we can take up again when we reunite as if it were but a moment before.
The_gladiator
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I love that about our friendship, I know that you'll always be there for me and I for you. hugs.
Annisthyrienne
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Story Excerpt: Call of the Wild
Another post in the same story as here.
**********************
Abby stirred her cafe-mocha absently as she stared into space. She was sitting in a little coffee shop just down the street from the health club, but her mind was back in a steamy locker room, going over the confusing jumble of her recent experiences and feelings. She was like that; always had to sort things out. When the situation moved too fast, she'd usually have to go over it later in her mind to make sense of it all. Abby liked to understand what was happening to her and around her, and right now she didn't. She didn't understand at all how her life seemed to be getting so far beyond her control.
First it was her loss of control at the hospital with poor Nurse Alexis. How did that happen? How did she rip the poor woman's clothes nearly off her body? And how did she completely lose control of her actions in the first place? Abby blushed deeply as she recalled the event with shame. She had always been attracted to women. She acknowledged that. But with living in a small town, she didn't dare advertise it. She'd always kept it to herself except with the very few lovers she'd managed to find over the years that she could trust to keep it private. And now this had happened. She was still amazed that she hadn't been arrested and charged with sexual assault on that poor woman.
And then there was the scene in the locker room with Melissa.
Abby unconsciously crossed her legs under the table, squeezing her thighs together to arrest the growing dampness in her crotch at the mere memory of that encounter. Passers-by could not help but notice the deep flush of her cheeks, the dreamy expression in her eyes, the slight parting of her lips, and if they observed close enough, the definite increase in her rate of breathing as she went back to the moments spent with Melissa in her mind.
+++++++++++++++
"Forget the form, show me your injury. Share with me what happened."
Melissa's tone was so firm, brooking no argument. Abby hesitated. After what she had just witnessed in the shower, this naked goddess now wanted to see.... Abby began to stammer out an explanation, trying to put words to the jumble of memories of the attack. But before she could get words out, Melissa moved closer, insisting on seeing the injury. Abby knew she couldn't resist that command.
She blushed deeply, keenly aware of the proximity of Melissa's sexy body and dominating presence. She met her eyes just once, briefly, as if seeking a reprieve. But there was no compromise there, and she quickly averted her eyes as her hands moved unconsciously to the hemline of her skirt, slowly inching it upwards in submissive obedience. She hooked her fingers in the waistband of her panties and began to slide them down, lifting her bottom off the bench. They no sooner cleared her ankles and dropped to the floor than Melissa knelt in front of her, mere inches away from her sex.
The impression that stuck with Abby in that moment was the look in Melissa's eyes, like a predator sizing up a choice prey. Melissa's eyes slightly narrowed, even as her nostrils flared. Abby sensed more than heard that long slow inhale. She could see Melissa's nostrils quivering as the sexy trainer took in her scent. Abby raised her leg, placing her foot on the bench. Instinct told her to move slow and cautiously, as if she was faced with a dangerous animal.
Suddenly Melissa stood up, swung a leg over Abby's uninjured leg and the narrow bench, straddling both as she examined the fading scars from Abby's wound. With one hand she pressed gently on Abby's chest, urging her to lie back on the bench. Melissa's eyes allowed no protest, but her voice was smooth, almost hypnotically compelling. "Tell me. Tell me what happened to you, dear,"
Abby nodded meekly and began to stammer an explanation. "I-I was a-attacked....by a large animal, possibly a wolf." As she spoke, so very aware of Melissa's body heat on her skin as the naked woman bent over her, Abby fixed her eyes on the ceiling, trying to pretend that this was more like a clinical examination than the way it really felt to her. Melissa touched her....'down there', a fingertip lightly tracing the thin white scar. Abby's voice caught in a slight gasp as her leg tingled under Melissa's touch. She tried to go on, "I-It was dark, and I c-couldn't see it very well. It bit me there.....Oh God!" Abby's voice changed to a little squeak as she felt the wet heat of Melissa's sex contact her own.
Suddenly Abby's body was all tension and barely held control, as if she didn't dare to move, no matter how much she longed to thrust her hips up and make that delicious contact happen again. It was a fleeting moment, and Abby didn't trust herself to move at all. Surely Melissa hadn't meant for that to happen. Surely she would be offended if Abby tried for more contact.
Abby held herself stiffly motionless, completely forgetting what she was trying to say. She had to keep control of herself at all costs.
And then it happened again.
She gasped, and tried not to moan in pleasure.
And again.
Her high pitched moan of pleasure slipped from her lips before she could stop it. She clamped her hand over her lips as that wet heat met hers yet again! Oh God! Was she pushing up to meet Melissa? Had she moved after all? Was it like the hospital all over again?
Abby felt Melissa's pussy hot and wet on hers, lingering, pressing to her clit. Her body was tense, like a steel cable. Her eyes flashed her desire as they locked on Melissa's when she turned to her. She wanted more! She wanted it so badly!
Melissa was rubbing her, touching her! Abby thought she saw the same desire in Melissa's face, just for a moment. Her heart leapt under her breast, and she allowed her hips to rise just once, pressing her pussy tighter against the sexy woman who straddled her.
And then Melissa abruptly rose and stepped away.
Inwardly, Abby groaned, already mourning the loss of that delightful friction. Her mind was a confused haze of conflicting thoughts and desires. Had she offended Melissa? Had she done it again?
Melissa was talking to her, refusing to sign her form allowing her to go back to work. But the words were a blur, mostly unheard through the confused and agonized thoughts crowding Abby's mind. Her face flushed with embarrassed shame as she pulled her skirt down to cover herself.
The next few moments barely registered with her; all she took away from it was that she was to return at 9:00 pm, or face some grabby guy named 'Lou'. But Melissa wanted her to come back, and that was all that mattered.
In her haste to get away from the scene of her shame, Abby left the health club, her forgotten panties on the locker room floor, partially kicked under the wooden bench.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++
"Miss! Miss, if you're going to do things like that, I'm going to have to ask you to leave immediately! This is a family friendly cafe!"
The harsh admonition startled Abby out of her reverie, and she paled to discover that her hand was stuck between her thighs, coated in her glistening lubricating fluids. She blushed furiously, mortified beyond measure at what she had apparently been doing to herself in this public place. She jerked her hand away from herself as if it burned and stood up abruptly. The motion overturned her chair, bumped her table and spilled her mocha as she grabbed her purse and fled from the cafe, tears of shame streaming down her face.
The last thing she heard from the angry voice behind her as she burst through the door rang in her ears all the way down the street.
"Pervert!"
++++++++++++++++
She stood in front of the health club. The parking lot was nearly empty, but there were a few lights on inside. Abby wasn't sure why she was here; only that Melissa had told her to come back. 'Be prepared to sweat', she had said. But as Abby pulled on the heavy glass door, the rush of air conditioning chilled the sweat already on her body, making her nipples erect. She heaved a sigh of trepidation, and headed back to the locker room to change her clothes.
******************
Another post in the same story as here.
**********************
Abby stirred her cafe-mocha absently as she stared into space. She was sitting in a little coffee shop just down the street from the health club, but her mind was back in a steamy locker room, going over the confusing jumble of her recent experiences and feelings. She was like that; always had to sort things out. When the situation moved too fast, she'd usually have to go over it later in her mind to make sense of it all. Abby liked to understand what was happening to her and around her, and right now she didn't. She didn't understand at all how her life seemed to be getting so far beyond her control.
First it was her loss of control at the hospital with poor Nurse Alexis. How did that happen? How did she rip the poor woman's clothes nearly off her body? And how did she completely lose control of her actions in the first place? Abby blushed deeply as she recalled the event with shame. She had always been attracted to women. She acknowledged that. But with living in a small town, she didn't dare advertise it. She'd always kept it to herself except with the very few lovers she'd managed to find over the years that she could trust to keep it private. And now this had happened. She was still amazed that she hadn't been arrested and charged with sexual assault on that poor woman.
And then there was the scene in the locker room with Melissa.
Abby unconsciously crossed her legs under the table, squeezing her thighs together to arrest the growing dampness in her crotch at the mere memory of that encounter. Passers-by could not help but notice the deep flush of her cheeks, the dreamy expression in her eyes, the slight parting of her lips, and if they observed close enough, the definite increase in her rate of breathing as she went back to the moments spent with Melissa in her mind.
+++++++++++++++
"Forget the form, show me your injury. Share with me what happened."
Melissa's tone was so firm, brooking no argument. Abby hesitated. After what she had just witnessed in the shower, this naked goddess now wanted to see.... Abby began to stammer out an explanation, trying to put words to the jumble of memories of the attack. But before she could get words out, Melissa moved closer, insisting on seeing the injury. Abby knew she couldn't resist that command.
She blushed deeply, keenly aware of the proximity of Melissa's sexy body and dominating presence. She met her eyes just once, briefly, as if seeking a reprieve. But there was no compromise there, and she quickly averted her eyes as her hands moved unconsciously to the hemline of her skirt, slowly inching it upwards in submissive obedience. She hooked her fingers in the waistband of her panties and began to slide them down, lifting her bottom off the bench. They no sooner cleared her ankles and dropped to the floor than Melissa knelt in front of her, mere inches away from her sex.
The impression that stuck with Abby in that moment was the look in Melissa's eyes, like a predator sizing up a choice prey. Melissa's eyes slightly narrowed, even as her nostrils flared. Abby sensed more than heard that long slow inhale. She could see Melissa's nostrils quivering as the sexy trainer took in her scent. Abby raised her leg, placing her foot on the bench. Instinct told her to move slow and cautiously, as if she was faced with a dangerous animal.
Suddenly Melissa stood up, swung a leg over Abby's uninjured leg and the narrow bench, straddling both as she examined the fading scars from Abby's wound. With one hand she pressed gently on Abby's chest, urging her to lie back on the bench. Melissa's eyes allowed no protest, but her voice was smooth, almost hypnotically compelling. "Tell me. Tell me what happened to you, dear,"
Abby nodded meekly and began to stammer an explanation. "I-I was a-attacked....by a large animal, possibly a wolf." As she spoke, so very aware of Melissa's body heat on her skin as the naked woman bent over her, Abby fixed her eyes on the ceiling, trying to pretend that this was more like a clinical examination than the way it really felt to her. Melissa touched her....'down there', a fingertip lightly tracing the thin white scar. Abby's voice caught in a slight gasp as her leg tingled under Melissa's touch. She tried to go on, "I-It was dark, and I c-couldn't see it very well. It bit me there.....Oh God!" Abby's voice changed to a little squeak as she felt the wet heat of Melissa's sex contact her own.
Suddenly Abby's body was all tension and barely held control, as if she didn't dare to move, no matter how much she longed to thrust her hips up and make that delicious contact happen again. It was a fleeting moment, and Abby didn't trust herself to move at all. Surely Melissa hadn't meant for that to happen. Surely she would be offended if Abby tried for more contact.
Abby held herself stiffly motionless, completely forgetting what she was trying to say. She had to keep control of herself at all costs.
And then it happened again.
She gasped, and tried not to moan in pleasure.
And again.
Her high pitched moan of pleasure slipped from her lips before she could stop it. She clamped her hand over her lips as that wet heat met hers yet again! Oh God! Was she pushing up to meet Melissa? Had she moved after all? Was it like the hospital all over again?
Abby felt Melissa's pussy hot and wet on hers, lingering, pressing to her clit. Her body was tense, like a steel cable. Her eyes flashed her desire as they locked on Melissa's when she turned to her. She wanted more! She wanted it so badly!
Melissa was rubbing her, touching her! Abby thought she saw the same desire in Melissa's face, just for a moment. Her heart leapt under her breast, and she allowed her hips to rise just once, pressing her pussy tighter against the sexy woman who straddled her.
And then Melissa abruptly rose and stepped away.
Inwardly, Abby groaned, already mourning the loss of that delightful friction. Her mind was a confused haze of conflicting thoughts and desires. Had she offended Melissa? Had she done it again?
Melissa was talking to her, refusing to sign her form allowing her to go back to work. But the words were a blur, mostly unheard through the confused and agonized thoughts crowding Abby's mind. Her face flushed with embarrassed shame as she pulled her skirt down to cover herself.
The next few moments barely registered with her; all she took away from it was that she was to return at 9:00 pm, or face some grabby guy named 'Lou'. But Melissa wanted her to come back, and that was all that mattered.
In her haste to get away from the scene of her shame, Abby left the health club, her forgotten panties on the locker room floor, partially kicked under the wooden bench.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++
"Miss! Miss, if you're going to do things like that, I'm going to have to ask you to leave immediately! This is a family friendly cafe!"
The harsh admonition startled Abby out of her reverie, and she paled to discover that her hand was stuck between her thighs, coated in her glistening lubricating fluids. She blushed furiously, mortified beyond measure at what she had apparently been doing to herself in this public place. She jerked her hand away from herself as if it burned and stood up abruptly. The motion overturned her chair, bumped her table and spilled her mocha as she grabbed her purse and fled from the cafe, tears of shame streaming down her face.
The last thing she heard from the angry voice behind her as she burst through the door rang in her ears all the way down the street.
"Pervert!"
++++++++++++++++
She stood in front of the health club. The parking lot was nearly empty, but there were a few lights on inside. Abby wasn't sure why she was here; only that Melissa had told her to come back. 'Be prepared to sweat', she had said. But as Abby pulled on the heavy glass door, the rush of air conditioning chilled the sweat already on her body, making her nipples erect. She heaved a sigh of trepidation, and headed back to the locker room to change her clothes.
******************
The_gladiator
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fans self... dang...
Annisthyrienne
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Scrawled on the wall: Story excerpt
Brennisen somehow knew she'd get stuck with guarding the prisoner. As the youngest member of the elven patrol who'd captured the dark elf, and the newest Ranger in the troop, the mundane duty was all hers, despite her pleas that she could be more helpful doing almost anything else.
The other members of the patrol had discussed the matter the night before, and she'd been given the task of taking the prisoner back to Randalee. It was standing orders to all elven patrols these days: capture if possible, refrain from killing if possible, return all refugees/prisoners to the capitol. The Princess-Goddess seemed to be convinced that the dark elves found prowling the lands of the kingdom were actually refugees from Carrion, their home city-state, not raiders.
Things were reported to be deteriorating there. Their tyrant leader had been slain recently, indirectly as a result of one of the Princess-Goddess' own adventures with the dark elves. She had assembled an alliance of elves, men, and Cheysuli tribesmen to surround the dark elf city and rescue her friend. In the process, they had captured the tyrant and weakened his position in Carrion.
Later he had escaped, costing the lives of a couple elven guards in the process. That is when the Princess-Goddess had come into her greatest power. She had brought two of the three dead guards back from the veil of death to rejoin their families. She had said that the third man's spirit refused to return and she would not force him. Since then, the elves of Randalee cherished her, practically worshiped her. The dark elves of Carrion just wanted her dead.
But now, after the tyrant was slain by his own men, the leadership in Carrion had devolved to a struggle between local warlords. Whoever could muster the biggest gang of thugs to back them was in charge at the moment, but it changed more often than could be kept track of. It was bad for the kingdom of Randalee, who could not negotiate with the constantly changing leaders, but it was worst of all for the dark elves of Carrion themselves, victims of the whims of petty despots.
Yesterday her patrol had encountered a small armed band of dark elf warriors and managed to capture one of them. She watched as the rest of the patrol made ready to pursue the ones who'd escaped. She knew there was nothing left that she could say to make them change their minds. Quiet words spoken from the leader of the patrol gave her her final orders before he rode off after the others.
She sighed as she watched the last rider disappear into the trees, then turned her turquoise blue eyes back to her prisoner. Crossing the small clearing, she kicked out the fire and cinched the straps tight on the pack horse, securing the tent and other gear. Then, stepping up to the bound prisoner, she rested her hand on the hilt of her falchion, her bow in her other hand. "On your feet, dark elf. We've a long way to go."
(I must like this one. I just realized i've posted it here before.....twice.)
Brennisen somehow knew she'd get stuck with guarding the prisoner. As the youngest member of the elven patrol who'd captured the dark elf, and the newest Ranger in the troop, the mundane duty was all hers, despite her pleas that she could be more helpful doing almost anything else.
The other members of the patrol had discussed the matter the night before, and she'd been given the task of taking the prisoner back to Randalee. It was standing orders to all elven patrols these days: capture if possible, refrain from killing if possible, return all refugees/prisoners to the capitol. The Princess-Goddess seemed to be convinced that the dark elves found prowling the lands of the kingdom were actually refugees from Carrion, their home city-state, not raiders.
Things were reported to be deteriorating there. Their tyrant leader had been slain recently, indirectly as a result of one of the Princess-Goddess' own adventures with the dark elves. She had assembled an alliance of elves, men, and Cheysuli tribesmen to surround the dark elf city and rescue her friend. In the process, they had captured the tyrant and weakened his position in Carrion.
Later he had escaped, costing the lives of a couple elven guards in the process. That is when the Princess-Goddess had come into her greatest power. She had brought two of the three dead guards back from the veil of death to rejoin their families. She had said that the third man's spirit refused to return and she would not force him. Since then, the elves of Randalee cherished her, practically worshiped her. The dark elves of Carrion just wanted her dead.
But now, after the tyrant was slain by his own men, the leadership in Carrion had devolved to a struggle between local warlords. Whoever could muster the biggest gang of thugs to back them was in charge at the moment, but it changed more often than could be kept track of. It was bad for the kingdom of Randalee, who could not negotiate with the constantly changing leaders, but it was worst of all for the dark elves of Carrion themselves, victims of the whims of petty despots.
Yesterday her patrol had encountered a small armed band of dark elf warriors and managed to capture one of them. She watched as the rest of the patrol made ready to pursue the ones who'd escaped. She knew there was nothing left that she could say to make them change their minds. Quiet words spoken from the leader of the patrol gave her her final orders before he rode off after the others.
She sighed as she watched the last rider disappear into the trees, then turned her turquoise blue eyes back to her prisoner. Crossing the small clearing, she kicked out the fire and cinched the straps tight on the pack horse, securing the tent and other gear. Then, stepping up to the bound prisoner, she rested her hand on the hilt of her falchion, her bow in her other hand. "On your feet, dark elf. We've a long way to go."
(I must like this one. I just realized i've posted it here before.....twice.)
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Annisthyrienne
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Something I should try to remember....
DarkWarrioress
~ An Amethyst Mist ~
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Annisthyrienne
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Musings
What if people could be adopted the same way that dogs and cats are, from a shelter? Could there be a story idea in this?
What if people could be adopted the same way that dogs and cats are, from a shelter? Could there be a story idea in this?
Annisthyrienne
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Story idea rehash
The Drow are not known to be nice people. Most of the surface races would not care to keep company with them. And for their part, the Drow would not find welcome among the surface dwellers. The reputation of their race precedes them.
But among the Underdark society, the lesser classes have little time for the politics and posturing that the more prominent classes engage in. The day to day existence of the commoners is filled with the basic activities of survival, and there is no time for the finer points of interracial relations with the people of the upper world.
For a humble temple slave girl, used and abused by the priestesses and worshipers of the Goddess, a life of freedom seems an impossible dream. But one day she gets her chance to escape the cruelty. There is just one catch. The only escape route leads to the surface, and unknown dangers among the surface dwellers.
The premise of this story is that the Drow temple slave girl escapes to the surface, and is pursued by her own kind. In fleeing, she winds up falling into the hands of an adventurer of one of the surface races. The Adventurer is surprised to find a Drow above ground, in broad daylight, and isn't sure what to expect. But it's soon obvious that they each could benefit from a mutual understanding. They agree that he will protect her from the prejudice of the surface and in exchange she will aid him in his adventures.
The Drow are not known to be nice people. Most of the surface races would not care to keep company with them. And for their part, the Drow would not find welcome among the surface dwellers. The reputation of their race precedes them.
But among the Underdark society, the lesser classes have little time for the politics and posturing that the more prominent classes engage in. The day to day existence of the commoners is filled with the basic activities of survival, and there is no time for the finer points of interracial relations with the people of the upper world.
For a humble temple slave girl, used and abused by the priestesses and worshipers of the Goddess, a life of freedom seems an impossible dream. But one day she gets her chance to escape the cruelty. There is just one catch. The only escape route leads to the surface, and unknown dangers among the surface dwellers.
The premise of this story is that the Drow temple slave girl escapes to the surface, and is pursued by her own kind. In fleeing, she winds up falling into the hands of an adventurer of one of the surface races. The Adventurer is surprised to find a Drow above ground, in broad daylight, and isn't sure what to expect. But it's soon obvious that they each could benefit from a mutual understanding. They agree that he will protect her from the prejudice of the surface and in exchange she will aid him in his adventures.
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Annisthyrienne
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Annisthyrienne
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Possible opening post for the story idea above. The race of the surface dweller in this case is human, but could be another race.
***************
Spiriel had been on the run, frightened, alone, and desperate for more days than she could count now. This strange upperworld with its too-bright sun beating down on her all the time kept her off balance, uncomfortable, and uneasy. She felt like she was constantly squinting to protect her eyes. She hadn't thought her escape through enough to realize what sort of protective clothing she would need. But then again, there hadn't been time. She'd had to take the opportunity to run when she had the chance, and she had been on the run ever since.
The Drow would've sent capture patrols after her, and she had been trying to evade them. She thought that if she traveled when it was most uncomfortable for her, the same discomfort would discourage them from traveling during that time. She might better avoid the patrols that way. She stayed still at night whenever possible, hiding.
But there were many other dangers that she hadn't considered. Their hereditary enemies, the Orcs, patrolled the upper canyons of these mountains, and she had been trying to avoid their patrols too. She had worked her way down and out of the mountains, now in the foothills below the range. She was hungry, tired, and scared, but she was free. Now if she could just stay that way.
The one time of day that she truly enjoyed was dusk. When the great bright orb in the sky dipped low enough to drop below the trees or the mountains, it eased her vision, and she could relax just a little. This was one such time. She had discovered a clear mountain lake and decided to indulge in a bath to refresh herself. It was risky. She knew that other kinds of creatures besides Orcs and Drow might be about. In the last couple days since coming off the mountain, she had hidden whenever she had encountered members of the other races. She knew any lightside Elf that found her would likely kill her on sight. Humans probably weren't much better disposed towards her kind.
Spiriel closed her eyes for just a moment, enjoying the cool clear water she was immersed in. She would still be hungry, maybe scared too, when she finished here, but at least she would be clean and cool. The constant sun seemed to burn into her black skin without mercy as she traveled during the days. This was a welcome relief. She would have to find a place to hide for the night still, and time was slipping away. She slipped under the water one last time before reluctantly heading for the shore.
Just as she was stepping out to her clothing, she heard a branch crack close by!
She snatched her only weapon - a small sacrificial dagger stolen from the temple of Lolth during her escape - and pounced using all the dexterity of her race, resembling nothing so much as a svelte black panther in female form as she landed on the unwary pale creature who had surprised her. The small knife went to his throat as if by sheer instinct. Spiriel was no warrior, nothing more than a temple slave in the underdark. But she possessed the instincts of her race, and the desperation of a slave who had tasted freedom and would not let it be stolen from her now.
The adrenaline that served her so well in her movement now made her pant and her breasts heaved. She became aware, even as she stared down into the wide eyes of the human male she sat astride, of a sharp coldness pressing just under her left breast. She looked down to see the human's dagger point aimed right at her heart. Realizing that she was caught in a stalemate, her pretty dark features curled up in an almost feral snarl of frustration and anger. To have come so far and now to be undone, or even killed, by a human, of all things! Still, she had her knife to his throat too, and one quick slice would kill him just as well. He dared not press his point home, or risk his own death.
For what seemed like several long moments, all she could do was breathe and try to think of what to do. Time was on the side of this human. She had to get away and find a place to hide before the patrols caught up with her. She hadn't time to get dressed and this human would no doubt attack her while she was vulnerable. He could probably even stab her before she could get away. She saw no other choice. Maybe he could be reasoned with. Maybe he had no interest in hurting her, and was only trying to defend himself. She sought her limited memories for the words of the common trade language that the humans were said to use. She didn't know a lot of the words, but she had to try.
Holding up her free hand, palm open and outward towards him, she spoke in her heavily Drow accented words, "No...kill, Man." She only hoped he understood. She slowly reached her hand down to use one finger to gently try to push the dagger point away from her chest, even as she eased the pressure on the knife at his throat, her eyes locked on his the whole time.
***************
Spiriel had been on the run, frightened, alone, and desperate for more days than she could count now. This strange upperworld with its too-bright sun beating down on her all the time kept her off balance, uncomfortable, and uneasy. She felt like she was constantly squinting to protect her eyes. She hadn't thought her escape through enough to realize what sort of protective clothing she would need. But then again, there hadn't been time. She'd had to take the opportunity to run when she had the chance, and she had been on the run ever since.
The Drow would've sent capture patrols after her, and she had been trying to evade them. She thought that if she traveled when it was most uncomfortable for her, the same discomfort would discourage them from traveling during that time. She might better avoid the patrols that way. She stayed still at night whenever possible, hiding.
But there were many other dangers that she hadn't considered. Their hereditary enemies, the Orcs, patrolled the upper canyons of these mountains, and she had been trying to avoid their patrols too. She had worked her way down and out of the mountains, now in the foothills below the range. She was hungry, tired, and scared, but she was free. Now if she could just stay that way.
The one time of day that she truly enjoyed was dusk. When the great bright orb in the sky dipped low enough to drop below the trees or the mountains, it eased her vision, and she could relax just a little. This was one such time. She had discovered a clear mountain lake and decided to indulge in a bath to refresh herself. It was risky. She knew that other kinds of creatures besides Orcs and Drow might be about. In the last couple days since coming off the mountain, she had hidden whenever she had encountered members of the other races. She knew any lightside Elf that found her would likely kill her on sight. Humans probably weren't much better disposed towards her kind.
Spiriel closed her eyes for just a moment, enjoying the cool clear water she was immersed in. She would still be hungry, maybe scared too, when she finished here, but at least she would be clean and cool. The constant sun seemed to burn into her black skin without mercy as she traveled during the days. This was a welcome relief. She would have to find a place to hide for the night still, and time was slipping away. She slipped under the water one last time before reluctantly heading for the shore.
Just as she was stepping out to her clothing, she heard a branch crack close by!
She snatched her only weapon - a small sacrificial dagger stolen from the temple of Lolth during her escape - and pounced using all the dexterity of her race, resembling nothing so much as a svelte black panther in female form as she landed on the unwary pale creature who had surprised her. The small knife went to his throat as if by sheer instinct. Spiriel was no warrior, nothing more than a temple slave in the underdark. But she possessed the instincts of her race, and the desperation of a slave who had tasted freedom and would not let it be stolen from her now.
The adrenaline that served her so well in her movement now made her pant and her breasts heaved. She became aware, even as she stared down into the wide eyes of the human male she sat astride, of a sharp coldness pressing just under her left breast. She looked down to see the human's dagger point aimed right at her heart. Realizing that she was caught in a stalemate, her pretty dark features curled up in an almost feral snarl of frustration and anger. To have come so far and now to be undone, or even killed, by a human, of all things! Still, she had her knife to his throat too, and one quick slice would kill him just as well. He dared not press his point home, or risk his own death.
For what seemed like several long moments, all she could do was breathe and try to think of what to do. Time was on the side of this human. She had to get away and find a place to hide before the patrols caught up with her. She hadn't time to get dressed and this human would no doubt attack her while she was vulnerable. He could probably even stab her before she could get away. She saw no other choice. Maybe he could be reasoned with. Maybe he had no interest in hurting her, and was only trying to defend himself. She sought her limited memories for the words of the common trade language that the humans were said to use. She didn't know a lot of the words, but she had to try.
Holding up her free hand, palm open and outward towards him, she spoke in her heavily Drow accented words, "No...kill, Man." She only hoped he understood. She slowly reached her hand down to use one finger to gently try to push the dagger point away from her chest, even as she eased the pressure on the knife at his throat, her eyes locked on his the whole time.
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Annisthyrienne
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People I'd eventually like to write with.
I figured I'd make a post of people I'd like to write with someday. This post isn't meant to be a popularity contest. But it's just that good writers come and go around here, and when I take notice of one, I want to remember their name so when I go looking for a good co-writer, I can remember who I liked before. Note that I will not list the people I'm already currently or have already written with in the past. I doubt I will have any trouble remembering those people.
This is also not intended to be an exhaustive list of all the good writers of Lit. There are many good writers, too many to write with them all. And some, though I think their writing is very skilled, tend to write stories that are not really my style or subject matter interest. No offense or slight is intended to those writers if they are not listed here. I just don't know that we would be compatible.
In some cases I may include the name of a person I've written a brief scene with but never got a story off the ground with them. This list is meant for people I'd like to write a story with, not just play a scene with. As more wonderful writers come to my attention, I will no doubt update this list in the future. And of course, just because I list someone here doesn't obligate them to write with me either.
ListlessDM
Azilyae
Gladiator
Dryfter
Zydrate
Britwitch
Palemoon
LordUsagi
SweetPeril
AlysaNewport
Caitydid
HotCider
roleplayguy2013
Cherribo
I figured I'd make a post of people I'd like to write with someday. This post isn't meant to be a popularity contest. But it's just that good writers come and go around here, and when I take notice of one, I want to remember their name so when I go looking for a good co-writer, I can remember who I liked before. Note that I will not list the people I'm already currently or have already written with in the past. I doubt I will have any trouble remembering those people.
This is also not intended to be an exhaustive list of all the good writers of Lit. There are many good writers, too many to write with them all. And some, though I think their writing is very skilled, tend to write stories that are not really my style or subject matter interest. No offense or slight is intended to those writers if they are not listed here. I just don't know that we would be compatible.
In some cases I may include the name of a person I've written a brief scene with but never got a story off the ground with them. This list is meant for people I'd like to write a story with, not just play a scene with. As more wonderful writers come to my attention, I will no doubt update this list in the future. And of course, just because I list someone here doesn't obligate them to write with me either.
ListlessDM
Azilyae
Gladiator
Dryfter
Zydrate
Britwitch
Palemoon
LordUsagi
SweetPeril
AlysaNewport
Caitydid
HotCider
roleplayguy2013
Cherribo
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VampiricTouch
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I'm stealing your list for potential stalking material.
Annisthyrienne
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The right story idea and you'll end up on the list yourself, Miss VT. I've seen your writing. It's provided me with more than a few very nice moments of private time.
VampiricTouch
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The right story idea and you'll end up on the list yourself, Miss VT. I've seen your writing. It's provided me with more than a few very nice moments of private time.
Story ideas are slow in coming. I can't seem to buckle down to want to commit to them, no matter how interested I am in the story. New ones at least.
I'm flattered that my writing has provided you with "me" time. It's what it's meant for. I'm glad it gets put to good use.
The compliments go both ways. I'm following your little healer and quite curious where you will take her and Tety. I'm sure you've got quite the story to spin.
Annisthyrienne
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Oh that is for sure. Tet and Thyri have a long way to go, and many other characters will enter the mix before it's all done. I know I've been teasing about this first kiss part, but it's coming by tomorrow.
I know what you mean about the enthusiasm for new ideas. It's hard to get something going than to write it once it's established.
VampiricTouch
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Thanks for telling me "by tomorrow". I can stop spamming my refresh button now.
I have new ideas, but I find the characters that it requires are outside of my scope of ability. I can perhaps put together a bio for her, but I could not keep up writing her in a believable fashion. There's so much inertia to get over before a thread begins.
