Rated M for substance abuse.

From the perspective of Gretta

I love him.

I have a love-hate relationship with Fridays. On one hand, the work week is over, but on the other hand, I fear what he does. I’m a mother of two and a I will put my children before work. If my children need me to miss work for them, I will. Factories with strict rules are places that are reluctant to hire me, and I’m reluctant to apply. My husband has a great job that pays the bills, and my job puts food on the table. However, it doesn’t leave us with much money to spend on leisure. It wasn’t always like this, but I cannot pinpoint when everything changed.
On Fridays, I wait at home with bated breath. I have supper cooked and the house cleaned. My children are usually out of the house, which I consider a blessing. When he comes in the door I check his cooler and my hope flees me. I see the brown paper bottle.

You see, my husband has a hard manual job. It taxes him and he doesn’t know any other way to deal with his stress. He takes it out on others, verbally not physically. I get ready to hear what he has to say this week. It will no doubt revolve around money as it has since last summer.

The first few hours are fine. He talks about his day and how his crew is the worst and how they always screw him over. I nod along and agree when I can. I want to keep the focus off me. But it always comes.
“You should get a real job.” He says, “Do you even know what a real job is?” Of course, I know what a real job is, I have one. None of this I say. I don’t want to expand the rant any longer
.
“A real job is one where you get up at 5am and work 40 hours a week!” He says with passion. I nod and silently sigh. I wake up at 6am every morning and work 33 hours a week. But I don’t say that either. I does not sink into his brain now.
“With your education, you should be making more than me.” He says. He didn’t graduate high school but I did. He does manual labor, I don’t. A high school doesn’t mean much anymore, but you can’t tell him that. Hard manual jobs usually pay more unless you can become a CEO. I cannot because I only have a high school degree. I say nothing.

“If you had a real job, I could have new things.” I just agree and hold my sigh back. I wasn’t the only one to cause us bills. It’s not just my fault. He could have things if he went out and looked. Yes, we don’t have much left over but it’s some. Again I don’t speak. He blames me for his lack of new things. I don’t see how but I let him vent it out. Tomorrow he won’t remember anyway.

I hold all of this back because I love him. I have loved him for 30+ years. I knew what he was when I married him. I try and help him find other alternatives for stress but he always falls back to his old ways. I know he doesn’t truly mean it. It doesn’t hurt anymore but it has become tedious.

This will end in a few hours. I can deal with this.

I love him.

[@Espurr] does a good job of evoking those mental letters that many of us have thought out, at one time or another. A good deal of backstory feelings are incorporated here, though I would’ve liked to see even more concrete details of who these characters are, or were, to get into them more deeply. The speaking-character’s post-breakup feelings are very relatable, though, and the last line—The worst part of all of this is that I miss you—contrasts with, and sets the full hidden meaning of the rant well.

raus’s entry even more incorporates the unsent letter idea, the writing of which feels very free-flowing and genuine, as if the character really was venting a chaotic spate of emotions onto the page. The details of them ripping, folding, and throwing away paper were a nice touch, giving even more insight into the character’s mental state. On top of a detailed setting, and a decently implied backstory, I found the story oddly fun to read, given the subject matter—and actually laughed out loud at the last line of the final letter, which coalesces Naos’s frustration nicely: Wake me up before you leave next time, asshole.

The feeling of “you are what you’ve been exposed to, or fear you will be” is very strong with Crow’s entry, and very relatable. Previous relationships and the experience gained through them, for better or worse, do affect later ones…and the story, and detailed backstory, told of that here, during an otherwise seemingly peaceful moment, is made more believable for it. Along with a well-detailed, calm setting contrasting with the rush of hidden thoughts, it’s a good storm-beneath-the-calm presentation of those as-yet unspeakable things.

KeeperGreymuzzles’ entry left me smiling, with a focus on how the hidden meaning behind the character’s words had changed over time, rather than the words themselves. The evolving interpretations behind the same essential insult gets surprisingly complex, and manages to fit a rather large swath of time into a fairly short space. Also kudos for sneaking in a lot about the other character, the one being insulted—I felt like I ended up knowing them as well as the nominally focused-on insulter. A fun read.

[@Wolfspirit]’s entry is fairly short, but manages to convey a good bit of in medias res backstory and setting in that short space. I would have liked to see a longer conversation between the two speaking characters, to get to know them better—because I was already starting to like them, even with what was there. The final line, the hidden thought, I found especially powerful, as it took the whole story in an unexpected direction, making me pause and reflect on what was really going on there.

polygone’s entry was a fun read. I wasn’t expecting to find what many would probably term a villain, amongst many more obviously sympathetic characters. And the matter-of-factness of her thoughts, the sheer reasonableness, to her, of her hidden laments, that’s what makes her—entertaining without going over the top, a difficult line to walk with such dark thoughts. Her tone is so reasonable, in fact, that only when I got to one of the final lines, I wonder if he knows that I was planning on killing him in his [sleep], before our parents passed, did I realize how chilling the internal monologue really was. Instant re-read, interesting and detailed backstory, with kudos for using a harder-to-sympathize-with character well.

Condor’s entry presents the most classic of unsent letters, of love and everything the recipient-who-will-never-recieve means to the letter writer. I would’ve liked to see more details about the writing-character snuck in there, snippets of who they are beyond what they feel, more details of why they feel that way…but the emotion is clearly there, well-presented and heartfelt. I really liked the sad smile as they cast the letter into the fire, which conveyed a lot, in a simple, but poignant way.

Hyasynthetic’s entry deserves a note for the bittersweet, lingering taste of detailed, engaging angst. I still find myself wanting to reach through the screen, shove these characters together, and yell at them to tell each other everything.

thewordeater’s entry also deserves a special note for incorporating an impressive amount of backstory, especially for being so short and straightforward. A+ for sneaking in character depth, in a tale so simply told…and for leaving me wanting to read more about Rose and Benson.

I have to also make a special note of [@____]’s entry, of the the things Mrgl cannot actually physically say—and thus a huge portion of her true personality remains hidden to most, the way she was born closing her off from the rest of the world—as I found it unexpectedly moving. It actually surprised me into tears. A memorable, gracefully-told example of what physical impairment can hide away from plain sight, without being heavy handed about it.

Loon - Oh, Carver. :C Approaching this prompt through hallucinations was a really neat idea, and gave some opportunities he may not otherwise have to confront some of his (many) demons and desires. I loved the little details shared here - like his mother’s parting words to him, and that, despite the dark history between them, he was friends and family with the Brotherhood. Whatever may have broken there, the fact that he misses that camaraderie hurt to read. He will find it again eventually (I have insider info, after all, hoho) and it will be a healthier family to have this time! Probably…

MasterShortpants - Oh gosh, I really feel for Lana here. Knowing someone like Nox is a constant energy drain — I think many of us can relate to having that one friend that you love even while they drive you wild. It’s a fun character dynamic to explore, although Nox tires me out just reading about him! I don’t think Lana has anything to worry about whether she chooses to voice these particular thoughts or not, though… Nox strikes me as the sort who would probably let the words bounce right off and keep on charging ahead! Great entry!

KaceyCat - The phrase ‘shotgun mihlanaku’ made me snort coffee out of my nose, so thank you for that! Poor Ira, though. This entry outlined the dangers of keeping important things unsaid… if you can’t be honest with the people you care about, you run the risk of a lifetime of regret. I’m curious about Leria’s new partner and how committed and serious they are — does Ira still have any hope at all of confessing his feelings, or has the ship sailed completely? I hope he’s able to find peace with himself soon, even if he can’t open up!

OregonCoast - This was just one step too far, wasn’t it Patti? Little injustices and grievances build up over time and build pressure until the only thing you can do is pop like a balloon! Thankfully for Patti, it seems her drasillis customer was both repentant and forgiving for this incident, apologizing and not letting things escalate any further. She should be cautious though… it can be unhealthy to bottle things up like that for so long! You don’t always have the ability to be honest in a sales environment, but I hope Patti can find a way to blow off some steam when these things happen!

Vysal - I loved that you approached this month’s prompt through poetry! It was fascinating watching the stanzas switch their direction between the various characters and always back to Cedric. I was particularly fond of the line “You wronged her through me,” which I think shed a lot of light on the dynamic you were showing and how Alice was used. Sharing these words from beyond the grave was chilling… and even if they are never heard by these characters, I hope they know how Alice felt and, in Cedric’s case, what’s coming for them!

Chicken - “Because above all else, Atty wasn’t kind.” What a great closing line! I loved the transition throughout the prompt from accepting Atty as a sweet, kind, and gentle girl to a girl perhaps cursed or manipulated… and then the final truth that it wasn’t manipulation or a forced hand at all, but her own darkness lurking. I’m eager to read more about Atty and her deceit — what a frightening secret to withhold! Really interesting character here and awesome way to address this month’s prompt - thanks for submitting!

Dove - Why you gotta do this whole killing characters thing man? I really love Crash and Daphne in general, and especially loved all of Crash’s thoughts running through his head here. :D I really… want to see what comes next, haha. I want to see him destroy that guy.

Cien - Man, it may be selfish, but I love this. :’) Hakan has so many thoughts and fears and things that he keeps to himself; it’s so sweet and sad that he worries so much. Poor baby. ;; I wish he would open up more! Though, to be honest, I’m not sure Akio would really know how to react if he did, haha.

Losty - The concept of Kamal and Azhar literally sharing a soul is really neat! It’s interesting how they can communicate so well without speaking, which puts a pretty fun spin on the prompt. It’s clear that they both have faced their share of trauma, so I’m glad that they have such a strong bond with each other to help get through it!

Hawkins - This made me so sad, oh my gosh. ;o; I’m really interested in knowing more about Reggie and Cooper’s setting (love me some revolutions!), and I would love more detail about what’s happened between them and this Maxwell fellow! I really hope you write about these characters again!

Hawk - It sounds like Tania and her mother have a really complicated relationship, which is something I can personally understand, haha. I’m curious to learn more about her and her family though - what happened to her father? Is her mother still around now that Tania is older? She seems like she’s a pretty jaded gal, and I’d love to see more of her in the future. :D

Oxton - I really liked this piece - especially how you described their differences and the bit about hindsight. It sounds like it was really difficult for Limerence to adjust to the other person’s departure, but I’m glad that she seems to be getting there. It’s never easy - be strong, Lim!

Jenny151618 - Ahh, it sounds like Gretta is not in the healthiest relationship. :’| I’m sorry that things are so hard for her - it’s so sad that he doesn’t seem to appreciate what she contributes to the household. I hope that things eventually get better for her!

“There are things in the dark,” Mrgl said, waving her spiderlegs at the sprouts gathered around her. Their eyes were wide with attention and a little bit of fear. “More things than you can even imagine. Some are dangerous and some are fearsome, but some are small and timid and as afraid of the light as you are of the night. But if you listen carefully,” She put a paw to her lips, making the universal “shh” gesture, “If you learn to listen, to hear their mind and heart and allow your own to be heard in turn, you might find a friend!”

Shifting from foot to foot to foot to foot to foot to foot, Mrgl danced lightly around the sprouts, leading them through the village and singing her teaching songs of darkness and night. The songs named the mushrooms and creatures and smells of the darkness, full of clever mnemonics for wayfinding and reminders of which things were dangerous and which were good to eat or talk to.

A huge, grand old kelph covered in foliage and glittering forest magic slithered from the village pond to watch the procession. With a laugh of greeting, Mrgl skittered up their branches, using her webbing to swing from ivy to antler to branch and back again, before sliding down the old kelph’s tail, followed by the very bravest sprouts while the others watched in awe. “Thank you, esteemed forest spirit,” Mrgl began solemnly, her eyes glittering with laughter even if her words rung with serious ceremony, “I am indebted to your eternal wisdom, and am ever grateful for your invitation to orate. What songs of wisdom I may deliver unto our youth are paltry, but they are given with a happy heart.”

“Indeed.” The kelph nodded to Mrgl, voice equally formal and eyes equally glad, “We are thankful for your unique teachings and gift of eloquence, for no formal education can be complete without knowledge of the night. Go well, princess of spiders.”

Mrgl bowed once more to the ancient kelph, then continued her dance through the village. Her tail held high, the red hourglass on its underside glittering in the torchlight like a beacon, she hopped and skipped from house to house. She was greeted everywhere with warm smiles and laughter. Many parents and other ineki and drasilis came out and clapped in time to her songs, singing along at the choruses. She greeted and bowed to each one in turn, delivering the children home from their lessons, accepting small gifts and packages of food from the grateful parents.

Something in the caves high above shifted with a distant rumble, diverting an underground stream and causing the slow water to find a new path of least resistance. That path happened to culminate in a tiny crack on the ceiling of a cavern. The water beaded, growing slowly until it became a big fat droplet, its own weight finally causing it to drop onto a small furry head with a splat.

Mrgl startled awake, blinking blearily into the darkness. She was still trying to find the thing that woke her when another fat drop landed wetly on her muzzle. She shook her head and danced away, pawing at her face. “Oh bother this damp,” she said, “it’s ruined a perfectly good dream!”

At least, that’s what she said in her mind. What came out was a grumbling moan that sounded a bit like “grrrrshhh drrrmp” and a low hiss.

She ran her too-big tongue over her too-big fangs. She opened her mouth to yawn, the pedipalps nesting inside her cheeks uncurling to wave and taste the air. She sighed, and the cavern echoed emptily with even that small noise. A damp draft blew through, ruffling her fur and making her shiver all over.

With the ghost of the dream’s thrall in her still, she took a few small steps towards a corridor, almost invisible at the edge of the cavern. Unused since she came through it years ago, it was the tunnel that led back to the village where she was born. She could almost see herself returning, almost see the warm smiles and hear the laughter… But the sound of one wet drop hitting the floor behind her brought reality flooding back. Torches, flickering and bright, hurting all six of her eyes and casting too many shadows for her to make any sense of the world of light. The voices, talking as if she couldn’t understand them, as if she were deaf instead of mute, saying horrible things to her parents in the house kept dark just for her, nasty threats and lies that they wouldn’t dare whisper in the light of day. And, worst of all, the looks of pity, of resignation, like she couldn’t help but be the monster they assumed she was.

When Xix was young, very very young, her parents thought something to be wrong with her. A bad egg, they whispered. Contaminated by foreign blood, though no one could say how foreign blood might enter the mix. Xix was nearly entirely white though, a glittering creature of glowing crystal, and what stone she bore was rare and thin, so that her inner light leaked through still. It was unnatural.

But there were not so many young that they could reject one, no matter how odd, so Xix remained. Still she was strange, and though her parents loved her, her peers found her frightful or unpleasant or at least unattractive as a prospect for friendship. Anth was the one to decide this was very silly, approaching Xix without any fear.

Anth was nearly the opposite of Xix, nearly entirely stone, with so little crystal to her that what bits did glow stood out like lanterns in the dark. She was considered remarkably beautiful, an example of perfection. Anth had never let that go to her head though, mostly because she spent so much time admiring crystals that she hardly ever noticed anything living.

So perhaps her admiration of Xix was not so surprising, for Xix looked the part of the most magnificent crystal, and Anth lusted for her in every way. She followed Xix wherever she could, and Xix was beautiful, and found the admiration of the beautiful Anth to be quite pleasing.

When they began a relationship, they could neither of them say they expected it to go far. Each looked at the other with shallow gazes full of lust, and it could not be said they loved each other. Time passed though, and they became fond, and fondness grew to encompass the pair, and they were very good friends, and steadily it became apparent that this was very much a relationship of the lasting variety.

They took a long time still to seek an egg, and were quite pleased with the daughter that came about. They named her Iriala, and called her their static baby, for she nipped with more than teeth. One such nip rattled Xix down to her gut, to the tips of her toes and tail. Anth had to go out of her way to experience Iriala’s shock though, for stone was not a very good conductor, and even when Iriala managed to get some sensitive part of her, it was barely more than a tickle.

Iriala seemed to grow so fast as to be alarming, and it didn’t seem like much time had passed at all before they were seeking out another egg. Their second daughter was Dercrex, although they always called her Crex or Crexa. She was nothing any of the family had expected, for the three of them had always been cold and distant. And Crexa was not.

She was not fond of strangers, no. She was a shy baby though, whereas Iriala had been unfond of strangers out of dislike she was prone to showing with nips and hissing. Crexa hid from strangers, burrowing into one of her mothers, or beneath her sister’s belly. Crexa looked odd, soft and delicate, almost like Xix, though not so glowing. Only her eyes glowed, and they were wide and glittering and magnificent. Crexa looked from the day she hatched as if she could see past the thickest stone, as if she might gaze into an unsuspecting soul.

And with her huge, soul-seeking eyes, Crexa followed Iriala wherever she went, as faithfully as any babe, and such was her sweetness that when she tired, for a babe’s stamina was very little next to a nearly grown drasillis, Iriala would pick her up to ride at the base of her next, balanced between her shoulderblades. She would sit at the edge of the ice and wait for Iriala to come up from her dive. And the whole time Iriala was underwater, Crexa would try to hold her breath.

When came the day Crexa could keep up with Iriala, she could as well hold her breath far longer than Iriala could, holding it through when Iriala would come up for a gasp of air, and holding still through every subsequent gasp, until she was still comfortably holding her breath even when Iriala had her fill and came out to dry off and roll in the dust. So when her body did not tire so easily, she began to hound Iriala, whom she saw more clearly than their mothers. It was rightly a lesson from her parents, her first dive, but Crexa had eyes only for her big sister, and there was little Xix or Anth could say in protest, for the sisters were closer to each other than they had ever been with their parents, for all that parents and young alike were greatly beloved by each other.

So Iriala took Crexa to the ice, and told her how to tilt her head to hit the ice with her horns and her forepaws, how to crush it with her powerful body. But Crexa was very small, which Iriala never seemed to notice, but Crexa became very aware of when she struck the ice and came away dizzy. It was not her age, for she was the appropriate age to begin diving. It was that Crexa was small, was different as Xix had been, though Xix had not had trouble breaking the ice, and indeed it was said she could dive deeper than any other.

Had it been her mothers who took her diving, they would have known this meant that Crexa was not yet intended to dive, and Crexa would have to wait until she was big enough to break the ice. But Iriala was young yet, and so she had her sister stand aside, and with her magnificent horns and powerful forepaws, she struck the ice, breaking through it, making a great big hole so Crexa would not gaff trouble finding it.

So Crexa dove, and dove, deeper and deeper, and she found that her lungs never strained, even if she accidentally let out some breath when she opened her mouth, and the pressure of the deep water felt only like a pleasant coolness and press. She swam through the water like its inhabitants, sliding through the faint current eagerly and easily.

She took a very long time to come back to the hope Iriala had made, so long that Iriala had taken to anxiously pacing, unable even to see her sister, who did not even glow and was so very small anyway. When Crexa emerged, she found herself gripped by the nape and hauled out.

“That was wonderful!” Crexa exclaimed, sitting on her sister’s ribs, and Iriala laughed. So whenever Crexa wished to dive, Iriala would break the ice, and take up Crexa’s role of sitting patiently by the ice, though Iriala never held her breath.

Crexa did grow, though her growth was slow, and she was still quite small.

Iriala always thought Crexa would be magnificent when see was grown. Even if she was small still, Iriala promised to always break the ice for her, so Crexa need never worry about being small and could instead enjoy it.

So Crexa enjoyed that she could still slide beneath her sister’s belly, and hide within her parents’ curving bodies, and slip into the small crevices to explore caves no one else could, for babies were not allowed to try.

And then darkness descended. Iriala never knew what happened, but Crexa knew, for she was there. She was there when the crystals dimmed, when the shade grew claws, and she knew finally what it was to have her lungs burn. She found out as with her last breath she tried to scream for her big sister, and could only let out a whisper.

Xix fell onto the ice, and though she was said to be wrong, she was never said to be small, and the ice shattered under her massive weight. Xix sunk like a stone, powerless even in the one place she had always been most comfortable. Anth was terribly cold, and she could not even uncurl from her sleeping pose, even frantically afraid for her mate and young. The darkness wrapped around her like a cloak, and the bits that once shone so brilliantly dulled to nothingness, and she was nothing but stone.

Crexa lay down by her stone mother, weeping silently, regretting that in her love for her sister, she had so rarely shown her love for her mothers. And the light faded from her eyes, and the cave was dark as it had never been before. Iriala swore to her sister that she would find vengeance, somehow, though she didn’t know if anyone had done this or if it had been something. There was no one to hear her anyway.

Thick ruddy fur. Hazel eyes. She certainly looked like the same Chesna. Frowning, she lifted her head from the lake’s edge and huffed at her reflection. Three nights had passed since she’d saved her brother from the mysterious split in the earth- two nights since the dreams had started. Those horrible dreams. Turning her muzzle to the side, she cracked open her mouth a bit and studied herself again in the dimming light. Large ears, narrow muzzle. No angry blisters. No slim snout.

With a cross scratch at the ground, she turned around, just in time to see her brother trying to creep up on her in the tall grass.

As soon as he realized she’d seen him, he sat up. “Aw man,” he whined.

Chesna snorted amusedly. “Nice try, little brother.” She tossed her head in a show of arrogance, knowing it’d fuel the younger pup’s determination. “But you could never sneak up on me, Galen.”

Sure enough, Galen crouched down again. “I almost did! And now I’m close enough to attack!” With those words, he sprang at her, playfully batting at her ears and leaping out of the way before she could retaliate. Smirking, he swiped a paw at the lake’s edge, causing a shower of water to sweep into her face.

”Galen!” She couldn’t keep the laughter out of her voice. “Now you’re asking for it!”

Galen let out a pretend yelp and gamely hared away through the grass, heading for their den on the other side of the meadow. Chesna took off after him, making sure to stay a few paces behind in order to prolong the chase.

They were only halfway across when the first wave of wind hit.

The breeze had picked up a little earlier with the rising of the moon, but it was nothing compared to the sudden gust that now seemed to slam the surrounding grassland, tugging fiercely at her and making her stumble mid-stride. Galen, letting out a real yelp this time, had nearly fallen over, and Chesna strained to catch up to him.

“Keep going!” She yelled, struggling to be heard above the wind. “The den!”

With a nod, the two battled their way to the den, a partially uprooted tree on the edge of the surrounding forest. Reaching it, they ducked inside, and Chesna felt a wave of relief that the rooted walls blocked out most of the wind.

“Where did that come from?” Galen panted, curling up as far back in the shelter as possible.

Chesna had never seen anything like it, so she just shook her head. “Mom and Dad will know.”

On cue, her parents came into view, their long legs carrying them swiftly to the den entrance. Slipping inside, they took up positions along the opening, shielding the pups further from the wind.

“Are you two okay?” Her dad’s eyes widened as he swept his gaze over the two pups. They both nodded. Her mom leaned over and licked the two of them on the head, answering their unspoken question.

“It’s a wind storm, pups. They don’t happen often, but with decent shelter it’s nothing to be concerned about.”

A wind storm. Chesna hadn’t known there could be a storm just for wind. The howling noise outside drew her attention, and she saw limbs and leaves swirling chaotic circles in the air.

“How long will it last?” Galen’s curious voice piped up.

Her mom yawned. “Shouldn’t last more than the night, at most. But it does mean that, until then, we’ll be stuck inside the den.” Reaching between her paws, she nosed a green fruit over to them. “Here, I brought this for you. Your father and I already ate.” 

“Fate fruit!” Galen exclaimed, eagerly stretching forward to give the apple a sniff. He turned to Chesna expectantly, and when she motioned for him to go first he immediately started biting off a chunk.

Chesna watched him fondly. At four months old, his black fur had turned a golden orange, and his legs had become even darker. Galen and her were only three months apart, really- she had been born in January, in a litter of two. Although Chesna herself, now seven months old, had no recollection of her stillborn sister, it was a memory that could still make her mom grow quiet sometimes. She always wondered if her parents had tried to have another litter so soon afterwards to try and fill the void the dead pup had left behind. Whatever the reason, when Galen was born three months later in April, he more than filled any lingering emptiness in the family.

Swiping a tongue over his maw, Galen pushed the other half of the fruit over to her, and she fell happily on the remaining portion.

After she’d finished, Chesna crawled closer to her parents, feeling content despite the weather. Galen joined her a few moments later, a mischievous look in his eyes. “Soo…Mom, Dad…do you have any embarrassing stories of Chesna when she was my age?”

Her dad’s grin was a palpable thing. “Well, let me see, there was this one time…”

As her dad began recounting some humiliating tale from her past, Chesna felt Galen rest his head on her back, effectively silencing any protests she might’ve made.

Swayed by his affection, she promised herself that when the storm ended, she’d take Galen out to the forest to show him the different woodland birds like he’d been asking her to. It was a little farther than either Mom or Dad liked them to go, but they’d still be close enough to the den that they could easily race home or call out for help. The forest was safe.

She was right.

In the end, though, it wouldn’t matter.

Once upon a time there was an Arakkoa named Ix’kin who needed a reason to lose their position within the society they grew up in. Ix’kin was found among the Order of the Awakened when I created them but I had no idea why they would turn their backs against their own people, especially because when I wrote them, they were still very much a high and mighty ‘Arakkoa are the chosen ones’ kind of character.  I created a catalyst, a character who could be the reason why they were kicked out, and yet how they managed to keep their wings in the process. Poor Krisek was written to be the heroic soul who saved their nest-mate from mutilation, and instead got mutilated themselves.  They were created as a foot-note, their personality filled out a little more as needed from Ix’kin’s perspective. Krisek slowly started to take shape as their own being, slowly starting to walk down their own path, independent of Ix’kin and their shadow.

Once upon a time there was an elf named Rynn who got caught up in some time-walking shenanigans. During a regular exploration of some magical anomalies within Nagrand, she was amazed to discover (via a friendly time mage) that the anomalies were not created by the usual rifts of the Nether, but actual temporal rifts due to the machinations of an Orc Warlock with a vengeance streak. A stampede of Elek later, and she found herself in the long past with no one else and no item to help her find her way back home except a pendent the Time mage had given her that helped locate the foci of the time rifts. This lead her to an unusual horned being who was startled to see her just about as much as she was to see them. After realizing there wasn’t any danger, Rynn slowly realized the Draenai she thought she was talking to was not an actual Draenai, there were just too many discrepancies, even with taking into account the cultural differences of time.

While she never found out what they actually were, the being helped her find her way back home, even at the risk of their own life at one point. She never did get to find out what happened to them, not knowing they had used the opportunity to leave their realm and follow her to main-time Azeroth. It was the perfect hiding spot, there was no others who might recognize them for who they truly were. Rynn had also given them a new disguise, that of a Blood elf Demon hunter, so they might explore this new world and maybe find a home.

Krisek started out as a foil, a character to explain why things were the way they were. In the process they started accruing their own story, a path of their very own to walk. When they lost their wings trying to save Ix’kin they lost more than just the ability to fly, they lost their freedom. This became their driving force, their goal in life; to regain their ability to fly.  It lead them down a darker path, following Shadow Lord Iskar who made a pact with the Demons so that he could become more powerful. Krisek got his wings back, but became tainted with Fel energy which burned through his veins and seeped with addiction. When Iskar was finally defeated, Krisek was able to become free of the demonic control and fled under a disguise. Hiding out within the outskirts of a Draenai village they were able to keep hidden for many lonely years as an ‘old wise woman’. It was during such time they ran into Amirynth and found out about the Blood elves. Rynn, being followed by a Demon Hunter, also give Krisek an idea. If these Demon Hunters were beings that were accepted in Rynn’s realm of existence, maybe they could use it as a better hiding place. While being on the outskirts of the Draenai village was possible so far, there were still hunting parties of Arakkoa who patrolled the areas. Krisek decided it would be better to follow Rynn into her realm than stay where they were. The Arakkoa changed the illusion spell to look like a Bloodelf and then hung back to watch, passing through the rift that Rynn and her friend eventually opened up to find themself in a new world with a new direction to go. Here they would learn how to follow the Demon Hunter path and hopefully discover a way to re-gain their wings once more.

Tiny green stalks poked up through the fertile soil, shades of bright green against dark brown earth. The young plant thirstily drank up the water that was sprinkled over it, and Anise grinned at seeing the splash of color. She finished emptying the watering can over it, and turned to the next small plants, going about her usual routine of caring for her friends. In was broad daylight, but a chill suddenly crawled up Anise’s back. Spooked, she looked around with orange, gold-flecked eyes. But no one was there. She had turned back to the plants when she heard his voice. “Hello, Anise.” Most people would not be sure it was a male’s voice at all, it was so androgynous. But Anise knew that voice so very well.

She spun around and shrieked in excitement, dropping the watering can and rushing to the red-haired man standing several feet behind her. “Cas!” The man’s large, black-tipped wings spread happily as Anise embraced him. “I’ve missed you,” Castor told Anise as she released him. “I’ve missed you too! I just… can’t believe you’re here! You… you…” Suddenly, her gaze grew conflicted as she took a step back. “I haven’t seen you for months, Cas. You didn’t call or write or visit…” She lowered her eyes sadly. “When you… left, you promised you’d always be watching out for me. How could you do that when you weren’t even here?”

Castor sighed, and stuck his hands in his jean pockets. “Anise, it’s time that I told you something.” “What?! What could you possibly tell me to make up for your absence?” Anise demanded. Castor looked her straight in the eyes. “You know I am a star from the heavens. You know I like to look out for you. But what you don’t know is that my interest in humans is not a fleeting fancy. I was assigned to you.” Anise raised one eyebrow, but Castor didn’t pause.

“You see, all stars are assigned many, many humans to watch over. From the cradle to the grave, we watch them grow, only intervening in the their lives if it’s absolutely necessary.” Anise inhaled sharply. “From the cradle… You’ve been watching over me since I was born?” she asked in amazement. Castor nodded, then suddenly chuckled. “Do you remember how you used to go on your adventures, tromping through the forest? And you’d come back to your father with skinned knees and grass in your hair, with pockets full of acorns?”

“And let’s not forget your ‘imaginary’ friend, the ‘angel’ with red and black wings,” Castor added with a nostalgic smile. Anise blinked several times as she searched her memory. “I… I do! Oh my gosh, that was so long ago. But what does that have to do with-” Castor shuffled his wings against his back, and Anise’s eyes widened. “It was you?!” Castor nodded.

“I’ve been watching over you for your entire life, though I may have not always appeared to be there.” Castor strode over to Anise and put his hand on her shoulder. “And I will continue to watch over you, being here when I can.”

“Promise?” Anise said in a tiny voice. Castor nodded again.

“I promise.”