#Februarydwc2025

[daily-writing-challenge]

DAILY WRITING CHALLENGE 2025 IS BACK!

YOU DO NOT HAVE TO USE THE ACTUAL WORD FOR THIS CHALLENGE, YOU MAY SIMPLY BASE YOUR STORY AROUND ONE OF THESE IDEAS!

Choose one or both words/IDEAS and write a story, drabble, poem, or anything else once a day, every day, for a week!

Tag @daily-writing-challenge so we can reblog your stories.

Write the number day/challenge somewhere on your story.

LIST CONTENT WARNINGS VISIBLY ABOVE STORY! (Use a ‘read more’ line if content gets too graphic.)

Tags that will be used: #februarydwc2025,  #februarydayX2025 (X=whatever number day you’re writing for), #yourtumblrurl

There will be no optional challenges for the weekly DWC’s, but please feel free to make up some of your own challenges!

The next writing challenge will be in MAY 2025 and last one week!

CLICK HERE FOR OTHER IMPORTANT INFORMATION!

Good luck and more importantly, HAVE FUN! Encourage your fellow writers and show them some love and support with likes/reblogs/comments!

We look forward to reading some amazing writing!

((Written word list below the cut))

Day 1 - February 9 Hypnotic, Star

Day 2 - February 10 Cage, Power Day 3 - February 11 Suspicious, Salutation

Day 4 - February 12 Salty, Euphoria Day 5 - February 13 Undersea, Navigate Day 6 - February 14 Annoy, Holiday Day 7 - February 15 Rage, Loyalty

[kharrisdawndancer]

DWC Feb 2025 - Day 1 - Hypnotic/Star - Tinnaire

It was, Tinnaire thought, interesting how a scent could be nearly hypnotic. The Bazaar was positively soaked in the scent of roses tonight. Her soft eyes roved over the milling crowd; she watched as two people with red roses on their persons tentatively approached each other, their smiles growing more confident as their eyes met. The red signified ‘single and looking’ she had learned. Others wore white roses, signifying they were romantically ‘taken’. She even saw a few who wore both colors. When she’d taken her walk, she hadn’t realized there was an event going on in the square, but curiosity and a friendly face had kept her there for a while. Now, she stood by the fountain in a floral haze. She recalled the rose gardens of her youth--her family’s, her friends’, and the ones dotted through the city. Tinnaire had never been particularly botanically minded; not like Fiorenze, Taric, or Laeynna seemed to be. But roses recalled the flush of youth, of hope and eagerness, and, yes, the first hint of love. Bouquets and boutonnieres had followed her and her young love, the same for so many couples. She found herself blinking back memories filled with the soft flowers. Of a love letter with rose scented paper. Powders, oils, candies, and teas. A different person might have made bitter the bite of the thorns, but Tinnaire smiled to herself, walking home alone and thoughtful.

@daily-writing-challenge

[eluviannaa]

February Writing Challenge, Day 4

Salty/Euphoria

“—even Anax’s pond. Saltwater,” Eluvianna remarked idly, crouching near the water's edge, fingers skimming its surface into ripples of moonlight.

Zevvie blinked, “I…wouldn't know.”

Eluvianna turned, a glint in her eye. “Wait, Zev—” She cut herself off, standing abruptly, excitement overflowing. “We should swim. Right now. It's absolutely perfect!”

Before Zevvie could protest, Eluvianna was already unlacing the ties of her robes, utterly unbothered. The night's spectre casting her in pale silver as she pulled free another layer.

Zevvie swallowed hard, heat rising along her neck. She turned away sharply, fingers flaring at her sides. “—I can’t.”

Eluvianna huffed in disbelief. “What do you mean you can’t?”

Zevvie hesitated before blurting, “I don't know how to swim.”

Silence stretched between them.

“You never learned how to swim?” Eluvianna asked, her voice softer now, more curious than teasing.

Zevvie shook her head. “No.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

Eluvianna stepped closer, the sound of her bare feet against the grass nearly sending Zevvie skittering like some startled creature. Then, a warm hand found her shoulder.

“Well,” Eluvianna now had a smile in her voice, “luckily, I am an excellent teacher.”

@dailywritingchallenge

[inistellan]

February Daily Writing Challenge 2025 Day 1 - Hypnotic

The hypnotic tic-tic-tic of the metronome wasn’t a necessity at this stage of Stellan’s musical studies. Perfect tempo and perfect pitch were something he had mastered during his time as a musician in the Silvermoon orchestra many, many decades ago. It was a habit at this point, and more than anything it was a comfort. There was something about the rhythmic ticking that soothed his mind and brought about a sense of nostalgia.

He had missed those times, when his days were full of practice and many nights full of playing the role of The Chameleon. He was at his busiest with less time to think about the world at large and what was next on the horizon. Not less stressful, just stressful in a different way.

Now, there wasn’t a need to work. He had enough funds from his previous lives that he could comfortably retire and spend the remainder of his years traveling or even just sitting at home playing his grand piano. But once you get a taste, it’s hard to return to a civilian lifestyle.

He struggled with those in between times, when the mercenary crew was on leave for some undetermined amount of time. It was a good thing, that meant there was relative peace in the world - but he wanted the war, and he wanted the strife, and he wasn’t alone in those wants. It was an unspoken desire shared among many of those who had spent their lives in the service of the military or as a mercenary. He didn’t wish for people to get hurt or to lose their lives, but he craved the action and being able to put some of his best skills to good use.

With a discontent sigh, fingers glided over the piano keys with a heavily practiced ease, attempting to push away encroaching thoughts with a few of his favorite pieces. It didn’t work, it never did these days. The restlessness was an all too familiar feeling, and anytime it had reached these levels he knew it was time to change faces and to change names.

Is that what he truly wanted? 

He was rather fond of Inistellan Volanthus, and thought that perhaps this is actually who he was always meant to be in the end. But still, the feeling remained.

Hopefully it was fleeting.

@daily-writing-challenge

[tarttsweetshriek]

(Warning: Mention of “Death Knight Things”, mention of suicide)

Day 2- Power/Cage

Sometimes I think back to when I had first awakened after dying from that explosion in Tanaris. Was it an accident? Who had killed me? Thoughts were racing through my mind until I had felt something freeze my mind like an icy cold hand gripping my mind and giving me commands. Commands that I didn’t want to do, but I had to. Otherwise I was going to be killed and fed to the ghouls. Arthas’ voice had rang through my head, stunning me in my tracks once or twice. But I had to obey, I had to comply. The power that the Death Knights of Acherus wielded was like nothing I had ever witnessed. Freezing strikes of frost, boiling blood out of enemies, and afflicting Scarlets with diseases. The screams were music to my ears. The orders were like a cage I could never get out of.

It wasn’t until the battle for Light’s Hope that I realized the Death Knights were just pawns in a much larger scheme for the Lich King. Some were free from his will at Light’s Hope. Others were free at Icecrown when Arthas died. Some death knights saw no purpose to continue fighting and killed themselves. Bolvar had been encased in ice once the helm was placed upon his head.

But me? I continue fighting enemies. I interrogate those that need interrogating even if they’re through “torturous methods”. I help people for the good of the Horde and the Ebon Blade, even though I am still considered an outcast. But there are ways to cope with the Endless Hunger that I feel. Friendship, companions, and entertainment seem like a good choice. I just worry about becoming a murderous maniac in front of them if I do… slip. Would anyone stop me? Would anyone talk some sense into me? I worry that I will suffer alone because of this power, this affliction and addiction.

@daily-writing-challenge

[musee-de-muse]

Home Again, Home Again

DWC February 2025 Day 1: Hypnotic/Star OC: Lilliana Whitedawn, Sin'dorei "Felblood" @daily-writing-challenge

Is this what it means to be swept off of one's feet?

The thought came unbidden - like a bird erupting from the brush - the optimism a bitter, and timid thing after so long.

After so much loss.

She'd spent a decade with her head in the sand - trying to cope with what she was. And what was a decade, to an Elf? Or... something like her, that may never die?

But re-entering society proper was proving as confusing as it had been when she'd retired from the Knights, and had unwittingly taken a job for a notorious criminal.

But for just a little while, it hadn't been so confusing.

To think that it could still happen - that a veritable stranger could spin her around, and show her the world anew, again...

Eversong at night. It had been so long that she'd almost forgotten the last time she'd walked the woods at night - and in over a century, she'd never once taken a starlit boat ride... much less one in the waters of the homeland she cherished.

With the moon hanging heavy, and a thousand-thousand stars dripping from the sky, into the rippling blanket of sea below - well, who knew a lily could bloom in moonlight?

[lilyofporcelain]

DWC - 09 Feb - Day 1 - Hypnotic / Star

In the quiet of the Grim and Tonic apothecary, she carefully peered around the various potions, elixirs, tinctures, and other concoctions that Saith so masterfully made. He labelled everything, of course, which didn’t surprise her in the least. How many of these things had been made for others, and how many had he made for personal projects? Rows and rows of bottles and vials sat before her, each in its own perfect little setting. One wrong idle move from her or Toasty having a sudden case of the zoomies, and she could just envision the domino effect of shattered glass and hissing liquids on wooden floor.

A smile hooked its way into half of her mouth as sher head tipped, hair not quite violet curling over her collar. And she’d worried about taking too much of his time away from his work. Or that he would grow bored and listless with her companionship. It was good to see that he kept himself busy. Saith’s background as an informant had controlled so much of him. Belidrae still worried that suddenly trying to acclimate to a life where he no longer had to do that would too much for him. She’d tried to be supportive of him and ultimately, the story was always the same. She only wanted him to be happy. To feel like he was significant. To know that he mattered and that he was important. For things other than his body or dust or thistle.

Are you happy, Saith, with the way things are? This relationship with me. Is it what you really want? Our engagement? I’d be all right if you changed your mind.

Would she, though? Belidrae didn’t think so in entirety. But if things went topsy turvy, which was entirely possible, she knew she’d find a way through it. She always had. In the end, all that really mattered to her was that he found what he was looking for. What he felt like he needed. She knew very well it just wasn’t healthy if he was using her as a form of escapism. She hoped it wasn’t that. If it was, the conversation would be a difficult one to have.

She could hear the soft, raspy ‘miaow’ that came from the siamese kitten who nonchalantly wandered in. Straightening herself up, Belidrae turned her attention onto… Well. She still didn’t know if Toasty was a boy or a girl. Trix had not told her when he gave the kitten to Belidrae on a chilly Winterveil day. Sweeping the kitten up carefully into her arms, she lifted a hand and gently prodded the curious kitten on the nose. “Aren’t you a curious thing,” she greeted her feline friend, a wide smile pulling at her face. “Wanted to come see what Mom was up to, hm? I don’t think your dad would want you in here, but we’ll keep it our little secret.”

Turning her attention back to the rows and rows and rows of Saith’s creations, Belidrae slowly moved down along the shelf and then she paused. There was one he’d been working on specifically for her. More than one, actually. She didn’t know where he’d even gotten the idea for it, but suspected it had something to do with the shade of her skin, something he’d always described as dusky. When he’d first told her about it, he’d described it as a concoction that when ingested would make it look as though constellations spread across her skin.

Belidrae had always liked a starry night sky. Plenty of them she’d spent her time under, even. Did he know she liked them? Had it just been a guess on his part? Leaning closer in to the bottle on display, its label in Saith’s rather picturesque handwriting, she smiled.

“You know, Toasty, you didn’t get to see this, but he made one for me before.”

Her expression was fond. On the night they’d met when he was certain she was divining tea leaves in her coffee, he’d taken her to a beautiful overgrown area with a waterfall and crumbling stone. And there, they’d spoken the entire night. And he’d been convinced that she was an agent of SI:7, something that continued to regularly amuse her. She’d not known it at the time, but his reasoning had been sound. She really was like an informant in her own way. Connections with people, believing those connections were important. Except she’d never been in it for the information. Sure, she’d heard things that otherwise loose lips wouldn’t have freed, but…

Shaking her head, Belidrae freed a sigh, gently squeezing Toasty to her. Saith had taken her back up there. Or rather, she’d taken him.

“It’s where I go when I need a moment’s peace.” She’d told him. “It’s where I go when I need time to think.” And it was as much one of her favourite places to be as the lamppost outside of the city or the river where they had washed Woogle’s clothes together beneath a moonlit sky.

The night she took him up there again, he’d finally completed his constellation potion. Or, rather, what was likely the first version of it. Warned her it tasted horrible. Said it wouldn’t be immediate. She’d grimaced like a child taking medicine that would surely do more good than the taste it left on the tongue. They whittled the time and got lost in conversation. A home in Suramar. His home in Hillsbrad. Futuristic talks of where they saw one another. A seductive dance of words. And she had finished something she started long before then in the Wetlands.

And then she’d glowed just like a night sky glittered with diamonds. Belidrae remembered it all so clearly. In the same way all of her memories of Saith were vivid. Moments in time that were suspended for her occasional perusal. Lightly scratching behind Toasty’s ear, she found herself taken back to those moments that she revisited with frequency. She’d asked him if he could make her something permanent that did the same thing. That she might already have constellations etched into her skin. He’d said it was possible, but as with all of his alchemical things, it was a process.

“How far have you gotten, thas’dorah?”

Looking down to Toasty, she offered a sly smile. “We should probably stop poking around his things, hm?” Although he’d known she was going to. In the city’s tavern, she’d asked him if she could. Her newest garment collection would incorporate all of the different things he’d made. She’d wanted to bring as much attention to his works as she could bring a similar attention to her own.

Making way back for the doorway, she closed it after herself and only after she’d set a rather befuddled Toasty on the ground, Belidrae rested her back to the door. How was she going to emulate the constellations? Imbued cloth, maybe. She’d been able to do it with the fabric that shuddered in light during her testing. But a constellation replica was going to be so much more difficult. Saith wouldn’t have an answer either. He’d admitted rather easily that he knew nothing about her tailoring work or what really went into it.

Rubbing her hands together, her gaze turned sharp and keen. “Well, Toasty, we don’t know until we try, right? Maybe I should make you something to wear. I bet you’d just love that.” Although she doubted the kitten could understand a single thing she said, the fact that she was met by her kitten’s back as they wandered off entirely disinterested in Belidrae’s conversation aloud, she couldn’t help laughing. “Yeah, I didn’t think you’d be into it. Back to the drawing board, eh?”

She’d figure it out. She always did.

— @daily-writing-challenge

[talthorn-sylvoran]

Daily Writing Challenge Feb 2025: Day 2 - Cage/Power

Kicking the door open into his personal sanctuary away from time, Talthorn clutches the weakened form his small friend in arms. His wild, ragged look didn't suit the magi but it didn't matter to him as long as he was able to find the answer within his research to save this boy. After looking around this room that was in dire need of tending and cleaning, the door automatically closes he brings Ka'ness to the bed to rest in. It had not been touched or stirred in some time, but the magi would give to the other until he could conjure up something much better.

"Here. You can rest here....." Talthorn carefully puts down the boy and looks him over much as a physician. Observing how he was reacting to the concoction that he had made and administered.

"That is all I ever do is rest. I'd rather sit up if you don't mind, old man..." Ka'ness laughs at the other and looks over the area with curiosity. A good deal of the pain had been numbed, but breathing was still difficult. And of course the whole matter of not being able to walk anymore was a pain for someone that was so used to being as active as he was.

"I do mind." Talthorn speaks rather sternly and furrows his brows. And just as he gestures for the other to lie down, the boy begins with his questions.

"So you live here too?" Ka'ness asks and then his eyes enlarge seeing above him. He gestures toward the library archives above their heads, with the floating materials of many ages with amazement.

"Yes." The magi answers simply. "This is my...research area. A very boring place with nothing of interest." he lies not wanting the other to be distracted, but erks as the boy points upward to where the magical materials lingered and sorted themselves. "Yes, well. Perhaps there are a few things of note for someone not used to its properties."

The youth gives him an unimpressed look with his attempt at fibbing to him. "And what do you research in this boring place where there is nothing of interest?" he inquires as Talthorn looks like he push his head to get him to lie down.

"Boring things! A perfect place and time to sleep for now." The magi replies trying very hard to keep his composure so maybe he could convince his friend to rest! He had to get back to finding the answer to thi-

"I am not going to rest well until you tell me." Ka'ness says directly and continues to look around, already his breath stagger a bit.

Talthorn breathes out slowly as he weighs his options. Sleep potions were not beyond him, but he knew children had to be handled differently for more consistent results. He is already conducting spells on the side, to conjure water and have the bowl of it come to him with help of magic. His mutters to heat the liquid, so he could soak and ring out a cloth, he and Ka'ness meet eyes and have a sort of staring contest.

"This is my Sanctuary. A place where I observe, research and record the world's events and unravel their secrets." Talthorn speaks reluctantly at first, and offers the washcloth to his friend. "It's my true purpose and passion as you might know to a certain extent. Here I am granted the gift of extra time. You are the only visitor that has seen it."

As the boy freshens up a bit, he asks over the cloth. "By yourself. For years. Watching the world. Locked up in here." Ka'ness thinks about this with some hesitation in his glance. "You're right, that does sound boring. And lonely." he smirks at the magi. "Sounds more like a prison, than a Sanctuary."

"See? I told you, very b--" Talthorn jolts at this comments and speaks strongly. "It's not a prison! It's a place I have all the freedom to concentrate on what I wish in the intensities I desire. I have knowledge and understanding of this world and many others that many deities would envy." he speaks with confidence about his cumulative collections in libraries and mind.

"But you keep it here. Locked up with you." Ka'ness says carefully and gestures to library above them again with a circle of his finger.

"It will be passed on to generations after me." Talthorn puffs out his chest in another fib, because he had long forgotten how that would be something he would do. "No more questions. You have your answers to those for now. Now it is rest time." he points sternly.

Ka'ness looks at him with large eyes, the rims still glowing in a cursed darkness. "Maybe after a story? You kind of owe me. For....leaving....for so long...." It seems he was not above guilt to get some additional time with his parental figure he has missed for entirely too long.

Talthorn's finger wavers and he draws it back trying to disguise his emotion. If Ka'ness rested he would be able to sneak away to do more research for his condition! But his boy made such a simple request and the magi didn't have the heart to turn him down after all he had done. "One story then...." He still had time to mend those broken promises....

(( Glimpses of the past following this story . Talthorn's awakening happens at the end of this event, forever changing his life. ALL THE FEELS ))

@daily-writing-challenge

[commanderbragh]

Homeward

February Daily Writing Challenge 2025

Day 2: Cage/Power

Banagan followed the main street out of Stormwind, crossing over the bridge and passing through the main gates. He tightly held the reins of the larion that walked next to him. The paladin kept a careful watch as the winged lion glanced from side to side in the crowded city. The larion's tension was palpable, but Banny never felt him pull on the reigns. Indeed, Banny felt it more likely that his companion was keeping a close watch on him, daring anyone to challenge their passage. Banny smiled and reached over with his free hand to give the larion a scratch on the head. The larion’s ear twitched.

“I wonder if this was what it was like when dad brought Valiant home,” Banny said to himself.

The two had only left the gates behind when a voice called out to them.

“Greetings, traveler. That’s an impressive friend you have there.”

Banagan stopped and looked to the side of the road where a lone man was sitting on the ground.

“Yes, sir,” Banny answered and then started walking again.

“Hold on,” the stranger continued as he rose to his feet. “Don’t you have time for a friendly chat?”

“I’m afraid I don’t,” Banny said over his shoulder as he kept moving.

“How much for the beast?”

“He’s not for sale, sir.”

“Sure he is. Everything has a price.”

“Not this time,” Banagan said in a tone he hoped would settle the matter. Unfortunately it didn’t.

“You haven’t heard my offer.”

Banagan could feel the larion’s tension increasing. The larion pulled the reigns tightly as he turned his head and looked back at the human that was following them. A brief rumble echoed in the larion’s throat.

“I don’t need to, sir,” Banagan answered as he stopped andante turned to look directly at the man. “He is not for sale.”

“No need for rudeness,” the man frowned. 

“I haven’t been rude yet.” Banagan’s left hand kept a tight grip on the reigns while his right came to rest on the hilt of his sword. “Leave us be and I won’t have to.”

“Don’t be like that. We were having a peaceful conversation.”

“Would be in your best interest to keep it that way, sir.”

“Or what?” The man’s look darkened.

Banagan glanced around briefly before turning his attentions back to the man. “So where are they?”

“Who?”

“Your friends. I’ll assume you’re not stupid enough to try and do this by yourself. Where are they? Just down the road.”

“No idea what you’re talking about.”

“Right. Have you ever seen what a riled up larion is like?”

“Don’t see that it matters. Once you put the beast in a cage, they’re all the same.”

“And there’s the problem with your plan.”

“Problem?”

“Yeah. You don’t have enough to do that.”

“Oh really? Enough what?”

“Men. Weapons. Time. Take your pick.”

“Maybe my men are closer than you think,” the man said, taking a step closer.

“Doubt they’re close enough to save you.” Banagan held his left hand out and opened it, letting the reigns slowly fall from his grasp. The larion took a slow step forward, putting himself between the paladin and the stranger. A growl started to rumble from his throat. The stranger took a quick step back and pulled a knife from behind his back, holding it out towards the lion.

“You’ve never seen a larion when it’s feeling territorial. You wouldn’t have done all this if you had. They have a determined nature. A strength, a power that is impressive. And if he wanted you down, there would be very little to stop it from happening.”

The stranger’s eyes got wide as the larion bared his fangs and growled again. Slowly, Banagan stepped up to the larion’s side. Taking hold of the saddle, the paladin kicked a leg over and slid onto the larion’s back.

“Lucky for you, we both just want to go home and have a good night’s sleep. If I were you, I’d find a new line of work. There’s not much longevity in what you’re doing now.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” the stranger said, taking another step backwards.

“Do that. And I’d make sure that you never cross paths with us again.” The paladin clicked his tongue and nudged the larion’s sides with his heels. There was a moment’s hesitation, then the lion unfurled his wings and leapt into the air. 

@daily-writing-challenge

[daily-writing-challenge]

COMING SOON

For more information, please see our FAQ page —> HERE!

It’s our first challenge of the year! We’re looking forward to writing with you all again, learning more about your OCs and reading your stories!

See you with a word list soon!

[veilosdaigoa]

Daily Writing Challenge February 2025 Day 6 - Holiday

It was the first time since Aeril was born that Veilos and Kyrisa had a night to themselves, and probably the first time in a few years since they were able to celebrate the holiday at all. Love is in the Air had been much different after their daughter was born, she had been a handful and any free nights they did get were spent sleeping, cleaning, or just relaxing. Now with their son Aeril, they had fallen into a decent groove, and thanks to Veilos’s mother living nearby, they had a built-in babysitter.

She offered to take her grandchildren for the entire night, leaving Veil and his wife some much needed free time to reconnect. Since Veil was on leave, he had time to do any chores and errands that needed to be done during the day so they had the whole evening all to themselves.

Two dozen roses were placed on the table in a vase, candles lit to give it a more romantic feel, and he even donned his best suit for the occasion. Dinner was cooking in the oven and now he just had to wait until she got home to surprise her. He turned on some music, and sat on the couch with a glass of wine in hand.

He awoke with a start, eyes taking a few moments to adjust to the dim light only provided by the nearby fireplace. What time even was it now? He was still on the couch, lounging over one armrest. His wife was curled up on the other side of the couch sound asleep. With a glance around, he had noted that the candles had been blown out and dinner had been removed from the oven. Clearly some amount of time had passed.

Shit, he must have fallen asleep before she got home. An amused grin touched his lips as he shook his head, it figured. This was their life now with two young kids, and no doubt he’d be thankful come tomorrow for the extra rest. Standing up, he stretched his neck one way then the other before leaning down to scoop Kyrisa up off the couch to bring her to their bedroom.

She didn’t open her eyes, but she did smile. “You looked so peaceful, I didn’t want to wake you. Dinner is probably cold by now.”

“That’s okay, clearly I needed the sleep. Clearly we both need the sleep. C’mon, let’s just go to bed.” He bumped open the bedroom door with his hip before gently laying her down atop the bed.

“Mmm…” She stretched her arms, reaching out to grab his collar and pull him down closer. “Oh, you are not getting off the hook that easily, moonlight. Take off your suit.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

@daily-writing-challenge

[kharrisdawndancer]

DWC February 2025 - Day 4 - Salty/Euphoria - Tinnaire

There had always been a light sense of euphoria after a good find. A pretty beetle shell that shimmered greens and golds. A rock with a spiral fossil. A leaf fallen and waxy with veins standing. Her basket had been filled, so many times. For as long as she remembered, she had taken joy in her treasure hunting.

Tinnaire’s basket was empty, but she would fill it presently. She stood at the edge of the forest, feeling the coolness of the ever-present springtime breeze dancing out between the Quel’Thalas trees. Sunshine warmed the back of her neck and the same breeze that carried the scent of the shadowed forest still hinted at the sea with the memory of salt.

She was far enough away from the city for the quiet of the land to surround her. Birds sang, insects buzzed, and leaves whispered. She thought she heard voices, for a moment, but it turned out to be a trick of her memory. She was far enough from the Scar to be safe from those memories and tragedy. But here was a small, less visible one.

Her family’s land had been timbered. It had provided lumber for the shipwrights and the harbors. These trees belonged to the state now, but in her memory she still had them, and under her fingertips, she still knew them.

Quiet as a wraith, the blonde woman slipped into the shadows between the giants, careful to appreciate each step onto the fallen litter. A wet sort of musty smell welcomed her home.

Sometime later, a single dragonhawk feather was her first find of the day, and she smiled as her longer fingers put it carefully in the basket. Her heart rose.

@daily-writing-challenge

[eluviannaa]

February Writing Challenge, Day 1

Hypnotic/Star

The Twisting Nether shimmered like liquid starlight, forming to Eluvianna's mind, her expectations. Traces of the ritual still crackling across her skin as pinpricks of planets waited in the distance.

She blinked. This…wasn’t Azj-Kahet.

Another blink came with disbelief, now stark, and a shake of her head. She had been in the middle of something important. This was incredibly inconvenient.

“Well, well. What an unexpected pleasure.”

The voice reached for her like tendrils, shadowed and lilting—amused. Familiar.

…No.

Eluvianna turned, weighted with the heaviness of this void. And there she was. A silhouette of angles both sharp and otherworldly. That knowing smirk beset at her lips. That damnable, insufferable, enthralling smirk.

Xal’atath.

Her form was still corporeal in presentation, though one could feel the unsettle of its truth, carefully obscured with allure. Something the mind would accept.

The Harbinger regarded her like a cat with a fresh kill, toying with its warmth before the first bite. A thing to prod, to unravel. And it was all terribly disarming, wrapped in a form so mesmerizing, so wrong. Eluvianna realized—too late—she had been staring.

She straightened. “Pardon the—” Words slipped in hesitation. What was the etiquette for stumbling into the Harbinger’s grasp? Even unintentionally, it felt…ill-mannered.

“Oh, reality flows differently here.” Xal’atath waved a lazy hand, gliding forward. “You have time to…observe.”

That last word flitted through the space between them. Her gaze dragged over the Ren’dorei, slow, knowing.

“I was merely assessing the situation.” Eluvianna squared her shoulders, ignoring the heat, rising, pricking at her face. “Professionally.”

Xal’atath laughed, chimes exploring, delicate. She tilted her head. “Your professional assessment feels rather…personal.”

“This isn’t really—”

“—Appropriate?” Xal’atath hummed, taking the word. “Oh, it definitely isn't. But who do you expect is exacting punishment…here, of all places.”

A pause, a smirk. “You know, you could call me Xally, if it would make things feel less…formal.”

Eluvianna blinked. Not at the absurdity—no, Xal’atath was absurd—but at the offer.

“If propriety concerns you,” Xal’atath continued, voice coiling around her, “I wouldn’t be opposed to letting you take the lead. A proper date, perhaps? Once you’re done saving reality—or whatever pressing little task brought you here.”

Eluvianna exhaled sharply. Of course she would make it sound ridiculous.

Still. The corner of her mouth twitched before she could stop it. It was as though the entity had plucked the breath from her lungs, stolen the very words waiting on her lips. How strange was it that Xal'atath’s strategy felt lifted straight from her own playbook?

For once, she was simply too stunned to best her. Not yet.

“Are you always this forward?”

“Only when it is worth the effort.” A wink. “For now, we should address getting you back to your ritual. Unless, of course, you’d prefer to continue your assessment a little longer…?”

Xal’atath took one final step forward, the distance between them now deliberate.

Eluvianna did not step back, smiling, slow and edged. “Well, it would be devastating if someone were to figure you out, wouldn't it.”

A pause.

Xal’atath cocked an eyebrow. “Oh? You will have to tell me more. When we next meet.”

A breath of silence stretched between them. Then—just a flick of her fingers, a careless dismissal. Darkness swallowed Eluvianna whole.

She landed—not in Azj-Kahet. Not even close.

The moment oriented itself—wherever this was. Capped stalks towering over her, feet now planted in shallow water. She groaned with annoyance, lifting the hem of her robe in a measure of futility.

And then, there. Just before her. A small box, tied with ribbon, deep void black, the cosmic sheen of the bow catching what little light there was. A folded, heart-shaped parchment nestled in the fabric.

She knew what it was before she touched it. Before she even opened it. Still, she knelt in the water, fingers slipping beneath the ribbon, tugging it loose. The lid lifted. 

And then—a flicker. A glow that wasn’t quite light at all. Something inside caught the air, refracted, shifted.

Eluvianna stared. Fingers hovering just above the edge, as if the wrong move might unravel something more. A long pause. A slow blink. Then, a flustered sigh. She snapped the box shut.

“…Unbelievable.”

@dailywritingchallenge

[inistellan]

February Daily Writing Challenge 2025 Day 3 - Suspicious

Inistellan sipped on his glass of brandy, eyes fixated on the stage from his private box at the Royal Ballet’s production of Romulo and Julianne. Despite the tragic ending, it was a favorite this time of year. Love is in the Air was certainly a time for star-crossed lovers and love at first sight - two situations he was completely unfamiliar with himself.

Cazmilan Fin’endal Junior played the role of Romulo, naturally. He was their best and had been for years now. A perfectionist through and through, just like his father Inistellan. Perfectionism ran rampant in their family, even in his daughter Vixannya Ana’diel. It was their duty to always look polished and flawless in the public eye, and that had taken all of them far in life.

After the ballet had concluded, Stellan excused himself to go home, passing over the opportunity to have a meet and greet with some of the stars of the show. He preferred to keep his distance from his son, lest Cazmilan become suspicious of his true nature. After all he had trained him well on how to read people and it would be quite the scandal for them both should he be outed.

There were moments that Stellan did yearn for a relationship with his son, but this was what was safest for everyone involved. They had many good years together, but there were also heavy regrets on Stellan’s part. He never wanted to become his own father, but he feared he had done just that when raising Cazmilan. Still, he turned out well. He seemed happy and was obviously thriving. A part of him did wonder if Caz hated him just as he hated his own father in the end. Perhaps it was best not to know.

He would make his anonymous donation, attend at least one performance every season, and that would be that until the day he died.

@daily-writing-challenge @cazmilan

[masonkohler]

Daily Writing Challenge February 2025 Day 2: Cage / Power A poem in alliterative verse: Mason's journey from blacksmith, to soldier of the Alliance, to Valarjar. His attempts to rebuild a home, and abandoning of his symbols of power; his reinvention as an itinerant aide to those in need, free of the burden of expectation. Hands used to heat hardened with labor Turned to tools of war in terror he watches Rapt as foes rent fled. Wrath and black fog follow. As weapon he is wielded and wishes for peace. Lashed to lion's yoke lauded is the blade, Bloodied and bent it brings repast to crows. When sky is sundered and sails unfurl, To shattered shores shriek the beasts of war. Fel design most foul near-flensed life from flesh Heralds of high Odyn hounded death from him. With storm he strengthened, stood the hero firm. The unworthy quailed in woe weeping for their doom. Burdered with butchery, to build he resolved, Ramparts in Redridge beset arose, a shield from the damned, Shelter he assured should his kin be in peril, Forced by fate ill to foreswear this charge Driven from duty sworn a dreary path he strode. In black fog, no blood brought he, but built. Hands used to heat hardened with labor Born new to bring balm to the hope bereft. The crags of kinsman's home, cruel teeth of the earth Locked away long-gone rage, lifted the burden, Flame once forgotten flared forth, exalted, The cage of power cracked and crowing a new day.

@daily-writing-challenge

[taricdarkmorn]

February Daily Writing Challenge 2025 Day 2 - Cage

“Morning, Pickles.” Taric removed the cover to the cockatiel’s cage only to be met with no Pickles and an open cage door. Not the first time, no doubt Pickles was just out on one of his early morning adventures. Or an uninvited guest let him out. Taric squinted, suspiciously glancing around the immediate area.

He casually helped himself to his normal morning cup of tea, clearly none too fussed about the missing bird. Pickles would show up in some manner when he was ready, he knew not to stray too far from the Bay and he would be safe here. Everyone knew and loved Pickles, plus Taric was fairly sure that the bird was immortal and would outlive everyone at this point.

He stepped onto his plant-filled balcony, sitting in his favorite chair as he surveyed out over the other early risers starting their days. And Pickles. Perched atop someone’s shoulder that wasn’t actually there. At least not there to the vast majority. Taric had known he could see spirits since he was a child, but Pickles had truly been a surprise. He should have known, animals were often more in tune with such things and Pickles was probably the smartest, and strangest, animal companion he had ever met.

Leaning over the railing, Taric immediately recognized the figure and gave a warm wave to his great-grandfather. It had been a long time since he had visited and they were well overdue to catch up. Perhaps this time, he would tell Taric if his father was still alive or not.

@daily-writing-challenge