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Rumormill

Continued from Visiting a Chapel.

Several maids shifted about and fidgeted as they sat on benches in one of the imperial yards.

“So…” One glanced aside, uncomfortable with the silence. “Why do you like Nikho so much, Hellene?  He’s so…” She trailed off into silence.

“I don’t know.” The addressed blushing brunette groaned. “Maybe it’s the freckles?” She hid her face, and a few others giggled uneasily as they glanced around, their smiles more akin to pasted-on grimaces. Read the rest of this entry »

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Posted by on September 1, 2014 in Semihistorical Fiction

 

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Visiting a Chapel

Continued from Much Ado About Treason.

It didn’t take long after being summoned for the two guilty parties to arrive at the small, empty chapel.  It was noon, and neither had any proper business there.  The chapel was a mile out from the imperial city, and barely had room for three people to stand– especially if two of the three were overweight.

Nervously, the two men looked around.  Finally, the first, slightly younger than the other spoke up. “I got your message, Huzho.”

The second, Huzho, paused. “You were the one that summoned me.” Read the rest of this entry »

 
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Posted by on August 29, 2014 in Semihistorical Fiction

 

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Much Ado About Treason

Continued from Family Pests.

 It was a dark, peaceful midnight.  Nikho leaned against his tower bedroom’s railing and looked down at the garden below.  In the distance, beyond a few suspended hallways, he could see the small figure of a lone gardener trimming a tree.  The discussion after dinner still left a bitter taste in his mouth, and though he had excused himself on an early morning, he couldn’t find the peace to close his eyes, let alone stay on his bed.  He let the wind blow through his long, untied hair.  Were he any thinner, he might have worried about being blown from the balcony by his voluminous nightshirt.

The damned thing was a horrible yellow, stained by a one-time lover’s attempt at washing it.  With a slight smile, he moved a hand from the smooth stone and onto the light fabric that the wind tugged against his skin. Read the rest of this entry »

 
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Posted by on August 28, 2014 in Semihistorical Fiction

 

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Family Pests

Continued from Second Stage: Anger.

“Aah!” The princess screamed as she slammed her fists against the elven monk. “I hate him!” She banged against his chest continuously as he stood in place, mouth agape as he stared down at her.

“What happened?” Slowly, the monk scratched his head.  He had no idea how he came to be her servant, yet still wore brown.  He cautiously wrapped his arms around her shoulders, careful not to crush the stiff cloth shoulder pads.

She gripped his shirt, and clumsy fingernails scraped his chest. “I hate him!” Read the rest of this entry »

 
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Posted by on August 27, 2014 in Semihistorical Fiction

 

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Second Stage: Anger

Continued from Stress and Chocolate.

It had been a week since the day of mourning, and the Princess was significantly less morose, however she still was not how Ehla recalled her.  The young woman snapped at courtiers or petitioners who talked for too long.  She made threats and went through with them.  Her brow always seemed furrowed when she sat on the imperial throne, and she only rarely smiled.

Ehla approached the head priest.  As usual, he wore all browns with some few whites.  He wore modest shoulder pads, and bared his arms like anyone with power.  The man blinked as she approached him in his study.

“Ehla?  It’s been some time.  Has someone been approaching you again?” His voice was soft despite his hard face.  He waved a hand toward the chair and stood. “Please, have a seat.” Read the rest of this entry »

 
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Posted by on August 26, 2014 in Semihistorical Fiction

 

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Silky Woman

Continued from Rainbow Bubbles.

The woman watched.

Heated talons clawed at her throat as she inhaled sharply.  Her lips were pursed, and her eyes were wide as she stared down from her window.

Brown.  A brown human danced below her with the kind green human.  Heat filled her eyes as a faint dampness blurred her vision.  She blinked rapidly and gripped the rail around her balcony, fingernails bending painfully backward as she dug them into the pale stone.  Her eyes shifted from yellow to green and she turned away from the sight angrily. Read the rest of this entry »

 
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Posted by on August 24, 2014 in Semihistorical Fiction

 

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A Long Letter

Rose tossed another wadded up paper into the ogre stewpot below.  It bounced off and hit the ‘chef’ on the male creature’s jiggling chest.  She shifted back out of sight, then continued to try to write.

Dearest Malindrake,

It has been a long time.  I’ve been getting drunk in the Undercity, and may have gotten raped.

No good.  Another wad of paper shot into the stew pot.  The ogres would get lots of fiber today.

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Posted by on September 13, 2013 in Semihistorical Fiction

 

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