#writemotivation

[sussysthoughts]

[lizshine74]

See it, to achieve it.

Dear Writer Friends, 

So, you are making the time. You are sitting down at your desk, bichoktam. You are doing the work. You honor your writing time and do what it takes to minimize distractions, whether that’s a focus app or a set morning ritual, or if you’re me–both. The war on your attention is real, and you are not a mere victim in that. Your monkey mind gets you all the time. It’s a practice and you will have good days and less good days, but you are keeping at it. 

This week I want you to focus on putting some energy into what your long term goal is, to really visualize it, because when we take the time to visualize what we want, we are more likely to believe it is possible for us. When we believe, we take the steps to make it happen with more confidence. So, right now, write down a goal you have for your writing within a specific time frame–three months? A year? Your choice. Now, close your eyes and picture the scenario. Don’t brush past it. Flash out all the detail just like you would in an important scene of your story. Set a timer for two minutes and stay in that visual. 

Go to this awesome web tool and write yourself an email set for an intermittent time between now and your goal. In the email, describe your goal in all it’s detail and remind yourself that it’s okay if you’ve gotten off track, but you are writing to remind yourself what it is you want. Remind yourself that getting off track is part of the process. 

Print the email you wrote yourself before sending, and tuck it away somewhere so you can pull it out as a reminder anytime you need it. Return to your visualization as often as needed to fend off self-doubt and bolster your confidence. 

Interested in hiring me as a coach to get you boosted with your writing goals? Find free resources and information here. Some past posts to keep you making time:  Adjust your pace accordingly. It’s about the routine and how you shake up the routine There are things you will have to give up See it to achieve it Washing the dishes Write slowly A celebration of the pause Monday, a run through the driving rain Zen accident Get out of your comfort zone

See it, to achieve it. was originally published on Make Time.

[hanniepee]

How's NaNo going?? We're almost halfway through, so I wanted to slap y'all with a writing prompt in case you needed a push. Writing a journal entry from your younger main character's POV can really help you understand and develop them, plus it could make a fun flashback scene or short story! If you need a writing pal, join us every Wednesday and Friday this month for writing sprints.

[tenthfloorghost]

Writers Writing Things

🌸 What We Are 🌸

A discord group for writers of all skill levels to find community and help each other grow  🌿 

We are open to all writers over the age of 18. The only requirements for the group are that each member must participate by contributing at least one submission per month, and participating in one workshop or critique per month. 

There are also a number of regular optional group events including readings, group prompts, casual voice chats, and more. These are encouraged (they are fun!) but not required.

Please feel free to join us: https://discord.gg/FveUkB9 

[theonlyladyjai]

Envy by Jamie Dement #microstory #storyin1picture #shortstories #shortstories #writing #writingcommunity #writersofinstagram #writethroughit #writemotivation #babysteps #writersoninstagram #authorsofinstagram #authorlife #writersofinstagram #writerlife #writerscommunity #writersnetwork https://www.instagram.com/p/CG08es6jxd5/?igshid=nzjxo2u61qch

[sebastianstansqueen]

You guys can send in request.

Okay so right now I’m bored and wanna wright but (not for my series at the moment) so send me a request, or comet what you want under this post, you know who I wight for, so please send some stuff, I love you guys, and i’m sure you have some creative stuff  for me so please send in requests. 

[sadlowskib-blog]

,,Don't compare your chapter #1 to someone else's chapter #20.'' Comparison. Surely, you know what comparison is and how it can affect our lives... But even though you know that, you still compare, don't you? 

We precisely know when we equate ourselves to others, watching their success or failure. ,,You are better than I am, because you dealt with that problem better than I did.'' However how ridiculous that sentence might sound, people think in that way. So do I. Having come across a problem, we try to put ourselves in someone's shoes to see how they would solve it. We are so terrified of making mistakes so that is the reason. Nevertheless, it is not healthy for you. Healthy for you, is to go in your own shoes ahead.

I have compared since I remember. That constant feeling of not being enough, when you are so enough. The school, the teachers, the classmates - the rat race. You have to go to the best school, second school, university. You have to pass all your exams and be the best of the bests. You have to wear the most expensive clothes so as to be accepted. Comparison starts mainly at school. We grow up, we see more, we know more and we expect more. We detect what others have and what we do not. We are seeking for money, career and stuff that others do not need to...  But what if you detect what you have? I bet you obtain something, others would kill for. Love, friends, family, wisedom, freedom. Appreciate it.

It is not easy to stop comparing. Few of my friends can do it. If you cannot, that is not the reason to fall apart. Comparing does not have to be degrading. We can notice others’ success and take advantage of it. Work as hard as they did, the success will appear unexpectedly. You will always see the progress of your work, even after a short period of time. But maybe should we be more focused on progress than on success? 

Furthermore, you do not have the same abilities as others. You may be terrible at maths, but your language skills are great! You may be horrible at writing, but you are excellent at speaking. Which is better? None, for you A is better than B, but for me - B is the best. It is not said or proved what is better, what is more valuable... We attach the importance, because we think in such way. 

What did your childhood look like? What family do you have? A functional one or dysfunctional?

Even if you believe it does not matter, it matters. Being raised by grandmother, did you have all your needs fulfilled? Did the role of a parent appear in your life? Or was it played by your grandmother? Probably yes, your grandma did all the best to dress you up well, to prepare a tasty meal for you - to full up your belly. She is a godness. But what did you feel when someone asked about your parents? Did you compare to others who have a real family? Accept your past, and do not let it ruin your future. 

While you were reading my text, did you compare your level of language to mine? I do not really need your answer. Try not to do that. It stops your progress and wastes your time. Go for a walk instead.

[writingmischief-caffeinefueled]

The Owner

             Something about the place was magical. The lights flickered all around in a soft glow of various shades of reds, blues, and purples. The long counter that lined the side of the room was lined with men seated at its’ stools. You could tell that the majority of the people would be considered less desirable by the rest of society, but that’s what made this place so special. Despite the fact that this place could have thugs, and palace guards cohabiting was almost unheard of.

             The previous owner had been a very high ranked officer in the palace. He was loved by his officers below him, and the people of the city. His wife was a stunning woman, who owned the bakery in town. Her bread was heavenly. Just the though of it could cause your mouth to salivate. The flavors would dance on the tongues of everyone, bringing a comforting feeling that was hard to gain during such hard times. She had a very kind heart. If someone came to her door hungry, she’d feed them. If they needed a place to stay, she would take them in and care for them.

             It is always a shame when the world loses such people. However, if death was their fate, it would have been better if they had died any other way. No one’s too sure how, but the house caught on fire one afternoon, and the two couldn’t make it out. Even worse, they left behind a little girl. She was 11 at the time. Partially due to her parents, she grew up with a very strong and loving heart, but that loving heart caused her to be very naïve.

             A man had come to pick the girl up shortly after the news of the two’s death spread. Everyone knew that the small family of three only had each other, so who the man was remained a mystery. All anyone knew was that he had a letter from the father, asking that he take care of the young girl if anything were to happen to them. It even had the seal of the family.

             This was 10 years ago. In the past year, the prodigal child returned, and with her she brought back the joy the town once had. She bought an old building, and with many eager to help hands, it was soon transformed into where we are today. A safe haven.

             It’s a mix of everything. The sweet mouthwatering smell of bread filled the place as a worker came out, “alright you heathens, get it while it’s hot,” Without bothering to divvy up the bread on plates, the worker set down the tray on an open table. Everyone rushed to it like vultures. Upstairs was an inn, one of the few the small town had. Over at the chess tables sat the owner.

             People loved to challenge her, everyone hoping they’d be the one to beat her. Unfortunately, no one had. Well not publicly at least. I smirked as I watched. I knew her plan. She had that slight glimmer in her eyes which entailed she already knew she’d won. Now she was just toying with the brute of a man, who barely seemed to fit in the two person booth.

“Sorry Charlie,” Her sweet voice cut through the noise of the crowd; remaining distinct amongst the gruff tones. “But that’s check mate.” That smirk of hers always sent a chill through me. It was like a wolf who’d just spotted its’ prey.

“GOD D-“ One cold look over from the missy caused Charlie to stop midsentence for a pause before clearing his throat, “Good game Iliya.” He chose to change his ending as he game a smile.

“I’m ready for a rematch whenever you are,” She teased once more, sliding out of the booth as she adjusted her long flowing skirt. It was a beautiful patch pattern of greens, blues, oranges, and browns. It met nearly halfway up her torso, where just the faintest sliver of skin remained between the skirts waistband and her black long sleeved top. Her long red her fell down to her hips, standing out in the crowd. More than anything, it was her eyes that always captivated me. Icy blue and as bright as the sky on a hot summer day, and as wild as the ocean during a rough storm. They were now on me now. Fire blazed in them. Hot. And angry. Not the welcome home I had been expecting, but then again, I don’t blame her.

[life-in-techni-colour-blog1]

Marseille, August 2019

After the life-changing experience I had in Marseille in July, same year, my heart was craving to go back to that city and expand the universe of episodes I have lived. I had the feeling, well, I still do, that Marseille has become a kind of sanctuary for me.

 Is it the Mediterranean sea? Is it that I love bathing at la Plage du Prado?

Is it the chance to stare at beautiful sunsets every evening?

Is it the fact, that Marseille is the city in France with the most of sunny days during the year?

Is it that the sun kisses my skin and I feel that it injects me with interminable cosmic energy?

Or is it the language? That language that I started learning as a teenager and somehow never managed to speak fluently.

Or the Mediterranean culture? Is it the fact, that still in Europe, the “way of living” is similar to that in my country?

 Or even the fact that I find Marseille highly erotic? That people show their bodies in a self-confident manner, expressing sensuality and sultriness?

Is it the sexy local accent?

Is it the sun tanning that makes the locals look similar to ancient Greek heroes?

 Is it that I love seeing so many cultures sharing the same physical space, so well-integrated and functioning altogether in a chaotic, but charming environment?

Is it that people are loud, emotional, and like gesticulating and using their hands whilst talking?

Or that families watch the sunset at the beach, whilst kiddos play around?

Or the music that is played at the city centre every evening?

 Or a combination of all of them?

 I feel home in this sanctuary. I belong. I feel alive. My heart beats fast.

I have lust for life.

 I most accept that it took me some days to decide if I really wanted to go back “so soon”. I guess I was afraid that my previous experience was just too good, that my expectation would be difficult to be met.

It was all met, in new ways.

 I arrived. I left the airplane. I picked up my baggage. I went out of the terminal station.

As soon as the warm humid breeze touched my skin, I screamed loudly: “I am back Marseille, I am back for good”. I thanked life, I thanked the universe.

On the way from the airport to the city, listening the music that the bus driver had on, a question came to my head: how many people are able to do what I was just doing? How many people in this world have the possibility to take a flight, book a hotel, and just escape to their sanctuary?

Does everyone has a sanctuary? Is a sanctuary necessary at all?

How many people can decide where to go?

 I felt blessed. And responsible.

I am free. I can decide. I have the means to chose and to execute.

How many people cannot do that? Can’t they, or they simply do not want to?

 What to do with this blessing? Enjoy it on my own?

Or is there any way in which I could share it with the world? If so, how?

 Besides being in my sanctuary, Marseille gives me new life lessons, some of them have become one-in-a-lifetime experiences.

And this second visit was not an exception.

 Firstly. I had my first “date in French”. A real date.

 Greg (Grégory, his fullname) had beautiful green eyes. His lips were thin and suggestive.

He had the characteristic sun tanning of a real Marseillais. He was indeed a local guy, born and raised in Marseille, with that wicked local accent.

 The date was planned rather sporadically.

It was a Sunday, as I was on my way to the beach. La Plage du Prado is a rather common spot to go on a Sunday for bathing. Not the best beach in the city, nor my recommendation, but quite convenient as it is easily reached and you have all required amenities.

He called me. I did not pick up as I was on the bus. Well, that was the excuse. In reality, I was not picking any of his calls because I was terrified of speaking in French with him. I had the idea that my French would not be good enough for a conversation, and even worse, that I would make that noticeable to the other passengers on the bus.

Yes, even now that I am more awaken, such banalities and lack of confidence-moments appear in my life. Not so often anymore, but still present from time to time…

 I knew that it would not bring me much to keep postponing the call, and based on the fact that I really wanted to get to know him, I called him back once I reached my destination.

I told him where I was and that I was planning to spend some at the beach and he offered himself to come over for few hours.

I accepted.

 I felt so happy at the moment.

Opposite to what you might be thinking, I was not happy because I was about to meet a very good looking guy, but because I was brave enough to overcome my fear of speaking more than a couple of sentences in French. It was such a rewarding feeling.  

 After about one hour, he arrived with a bunch of things for a proper picnic.

He was, as already mentioned, charming. We talked about himself, myself, my interest for Marseille and my plans to visit more regularly the city.

We spend about three hours together and he needed to leave.

Regrettably, there was not a kind of funk between us, so we lost contact after that picnic.

 What was the learning out of this experience?

Well, I made myself vulnerable, accepting that my French might not be fluent and error-free, and as a reward I had a picnic next to Mediterranean see. Me! Alejandro! That guy who many times felt not good enough.

Isn’t life a beautiful box of surprises, once you give it a try?

 The second new learning that I had during that week involves a sex-shop.

The reasoning for me visiting the sex-shop is not relevant and therefore, not to be disclosed.

 What I can tell you, in case you, yourself, have never entered to one: there is nothing special about them. I even fooled around with the employee who supported with my purchasing, who made some recommendations as well.

 To be really honest, I was not afraid of the sex shop itself.

I was terrified of “what people would think of me” when entering and when leaving the shop. As this shop is located on a major avenue of the city, and I went there around 18 hrs on a regular working day, you can imagine that the probability of people seeing someone entering or leaving the shop was rather high.

 Learning? A very basic one. No ones gives a fuck about what I do. If I enter or leave or stay for decades in a shop.

As I went it, I came out. No one really cared about it.

Isn’t is crazy all the ideas that I still have in my head? Terrified for what people would say?!

They did not even know me. They will probably not see me again. And I was still terrified.

Alejandro: so much for you still to learn.

 Now we get a bit more serious.

Third learning during that week: I am blessed.

 So, on the second weekend in Marseille, before departing back to Frankfurt, I decided to spend one day in the natural park Les Calanques. Go to your favourite web browser now and type “Les Calanques”. You will be stunned by the beautiful sceneries of this park.

 Calanques are narrow inlets that are developed in limestone that are found along the Mediterranean coast. Because of fluvial erosion, these Calanques take the shape of valleys, which converge mostly into the sea. You will see some pictures attached to this post.

What do I like from them the most? The contrast between their colour and the intense blue of the sea.

 So that Saturday morning I took the bus and arrive to one (very) small town called Les Goudes. Even if Les Goudes is a picturesque and cosy place, I saw most of it in less than one hour. As it was barely midday, I decided to walk on the coast with direction to the Calanques.

After few minutes I knew that I had made a very good decision.

 My eyes saw a perfect colour-balance between beige and blue: on one site the massive Calanques in their beautiful beige colour and just next to it, a green-blue sea. Both fighting for physical space, and at the same time, embracing together in a perfect synergy.

 I kept walking. As the time was passing by, more and more people were arriving. All of them astonished by the beautiful scenery. All of us making pictures, which will never be able to replace reality.

Even if I look at those pictures now, they cannot equal the still vivid images in my head.

Because it is not only about the colours, but the sound of wind (le mistral), the environmental humidity, the sun, the heat…

 I spent quite some time making pictures and walking along the rocky coastline, until I felt hungry.

I was lucky that I had food in my bag, same that I bought that same morning in the only store I found in Les Goudes. Amongst those articles: a slice of pizza (I will elaborate more about my experience with pizza in Marseille in upcoming posts), a bottle of water, a bottle of orange juice and some cookies (Navettes à l’anis) that I still had in my bag.

 I started looking for a place where to seat down and eat calmly. That was apparently not possible at the coastline, as it was already full with tourists (I do not consider myself a tourist in Marseille anymore) and families eating already (that just made me think of Greg and our picnic).

 My eyes went then to the mountains themselves. Almost everyone was on the coast, but few were climbing to the mountains. I spotted at least three places that were perfect to seat down and have some lunch. So I decided to move there.

 After few minutes I was about 300m above the sea level and from there, I had a beautiful scenery in front of my eyes. I could even see part of the city (Marseille).

I ate. Not only the food and beverages were feeding my body, but my soul was at the same time catered by what I was just discerning.

I felt a funk of happiness moving through my body. Was it the very first time that I had a love-attack? Yes, they exist, just as the panic-attacks do.

I ate, I observed, I felt happy.

 When I finished, I decided to move further to the mountains. I sang, I spoke to myself, I made pictures.

After about 30 minutes walking to the top of the mountain, I found a valley, around 800m above level sea, I guess. Maybe a bit more.

 From that valley I could see other Calanque in front of me, few houses at its bottom, gently placed next to the green-blue sea. Behind me only rocks and Les Goudes still in sight, although from the distance, the houses look pretty tiny.  

To my right the blue sea. To my left three massive mountains.

I though of researching for their name whilst writing these lines, but I consider their names quite irrelevant, so no naming them for now.

 In the background, I could hear the Cigales. The sound came from all directions. Even if the wind was strong and loud enough, that characteristic sound from the Cigales was louder.

 So, I was there, on a Saturday afternoon, standing in front of three massive mountains. I looked at them, whilst listening to the Cigales.

My whole life cross my head as movie whilst standing there. That movie last at least 10 minutes. In that time I just stared at those three peeks.

I though of my way up. I though of everyone who helped me reaching the very best of me. I thought of the sacrifices my family made, especially my mom. I thought that she would have been astound as well, in case she would have got the chance to see those mountains herself.

She rarely left our town. She never left our country. She was never on the sea. She never got to walk barefoot on the sand.

 I thought of my brother. Of the time we spent together as kids and the time we did not spent, as I left Mexico.

What would have happened if I have stayed in Mexico?

Would I have spent more time with him?

Would we love each other more just by being closer physically?

 I thought of the friends that have shared the road with me. I thought of those that have been years with me, and those who appeared and disappeared because their mission in my life was over.

 I thought of my dreams as a kid, as a teenager.

Of the man I have become.

 I thought of Gustavo. I thought of Mark. I though of the people I have unintentionally hurt on my way up.

 Moreover, I though of how blessed I am.

Blessed because of what the life has given me, sometimes even without requesting for it.

I cried tears of joy.

 The fourth learning of that week is related to music.

By mere coincidence, I downloaded the latest album of the French singer Zazie. The album is called Essenciel and I can just recommend it to you. One of the few albums that I can hear from the very first track until the last one.

 The first song of the album is called <Speed>. This song verbalises some of the characteristics of our contemporary society: a) living to work, b) spending our life in the own cages we have created for our ourselves, c) waiting for the day to end, imagining of a better future and pursuing happiness based on accomplishments, d) thinking that we are “too old” to do certain things, e) living in automatic mode…

Listen it for yourself and let the magic happens.

 This song gives me hope.

It gives me hope that I am not the only one awakening.

It makes me feel energised and pushes me towards my complete realisation.

The song of my summer – so far.

 Allez hop!

[anthonysol07]

[angoissedelune]

-35.080219,148.108495

Do you have a safe place? 

Where your mind wanders too, when you’re not sure you can go on?

Can you close your eyes, and feel the rush of wind on your face, hear the traffic on the highway beneath you? 

Inhale and smell the trees surrounding you.

Hear the lambs in the paddock below, bleating for their Mothers. 

Open your eyes, and its all gone. 

Just you, in the dark. 

Alone, again. 

[hanniepee]

Today’s video is about WHY YOU SHOULD STOP WRITING NOVELS.

[neonfading-blog]

“Neon in your eyes

Permeating all around

Pulling me under...”

-neonfading

[ashleyearley]

I came home with coffee and Nova looked so betrayed that I went to Starbucks without her and didn’t even have the decency to bring her a puppuccino 😂 • • • #writer #author #writing #writerslife #creativity #wordgasm #booknerdigans #writinglife #writingcommunity #writersofinstagram #iwrite #creativewriting #writinglife #WIP #workinprogress #whyiwrite #authorgram #writersofig #writemotivation #writerscommunity #amwriting #lovewriting #authorofinstagram #creativewritingworkshop #writings #writingmotivation #writingsofinstagram #writingcommunityofig #writerscommunity https://www.instagram.com/p/CGiI_ZHgLJX/?igshid=1t39snk49dc0d

[sadlowskib-blog]

Masking. The idea of wearing masks is as old as a human being can imagine. It is proved that the earliest use of them was for ceremonies, rituals and entertainment about 7000BC. Nowadays, the masks are the part of the culture known to everyone as ,,Halloween". Children, youngsters and even adults wear masks so as to hide their own identity to have fun, kill spare time and the most important - to be someone else. 

Even after thousands of years, people are still wearing masks but not ones used for celebration. Emotional mask, the mask we hide behind lest experience fear, unpleasantness and pain. The reason why people wear such masks is that they are afraid of unveilng their true selves. Who does not want to be respected, admired, liked and loved? We put these masks on in order to create the perfect picture of ourselves in somebody's eyes. Therefore, we create them so as not to be rejected by love, friends and colleagues. There was my friend, whose name is not relevant here. He was always trying to impress everyone around, even people who admired him already. He was changing his self every time he talked to another person. He used to put different masks on his face, starting with funny and ending with the empathic one. Having observed him for a while, I did not recognise the same person I had met a long time ago. 

Behind the masks, we've created illusions as if we ever cared, as if we loved, as if we ever wanted. But why? There is no simple answer. Desire might be one of the possibilities. We can change our behaviour, language and even mind to get what we want. While we meet a new person, we are constatantly focused on positive traits, freatures and pluses forgetting about minuses. However how intelligent our date is, how smart and bright... We can always create one of those masks to have the ideal, perfect and flawless image that will cover our true self behind them.

Never should we pretend to have the same values. Never should we pretend to be someone else when getting along. Never should we lie. Never should you tell anybody you love them after three days of knowing each other. Take the mask off as soon as you can. The sooner you do it, the better for you. It's exhausting to live an inauthentic life. You put on one mask, them put it off, later you put other two at the same time. Tiring... You forget who you are, have been, were.

[writingmischief-caffeinefueled]

“I’m not doing that”

“No way,” if the room wasn’t tense before, it was now. “I’m not doing that.” 

It would have been so much better if some members of the council weren’t present. How do you possibly ask someone for their help with: the woman who predicted/caused your dark descent, the man who holds the second place spot on your kill list, and... the whole rest of the room has been trying to kill you for the past 3 months.           “We are not asking, we are telling you what you will be doing, Darien.” King Mereblorn, forever not helping the situation, spoke up as he pushed off the wall from the corner of the room. Darien was clearly expecting his father to speak up at this point, for the King had been uncharacteristically quiet since Darien was brought in; but his presence was not one that was easily ignored.

          The smile that spread across Darien’s face was… chilling. His father had taken the bait it seemed, and Darien was ready to play. “Ah, old man welcome to the conversation!” Darien spun his head back to the scowling force that approached the table of other more nervous council members.

          The air was tense. When was the last time this father and son duo had been in the same room? Liana truly couldn’t remember. Everything about this felt wrong, and many began to shift in their seats. Liana grabbed her hair, beginning to quickly fix the ends of her braids. One quick glare from King Mereblorn was enough to freeze Liana’s tendency.

          Darien shifted on his feet a bit, hands bounded by a glowing green cuff, eyes scanning the members of the room. It seemed to be magnetic, as whenever Darien moved his hands, they moved together. Four guards were on him, 2 held his arms, and the other two stood up on the balcony; one having an arrow drawn, and the other focusing on the spell he placed on the room.

          “What ever happened to you guys just wanting to talk?” Darien laughed, knowing exactly why he had been cuffed. He had managed to get into highly secured areas of the council on a number of occasions just for fun… What would he do once he got serious? No one wanted to know.

          “Cursed child, you are naïve if you thought that we were going to let you go after all you’ve done.” The head of the Night Folk sighed, having stopped spinning in his chair long enough to say this as he fiddled with his cross necklace.

          “Oh, that’s ironic… He who is in charge of the Night Folk is calling me Cursed.” Darien breathed out as this wasn’t fun anymore.

          The cuffs were digging into his wrists, and they tightened with even the slightest shift he made. The group of old farts was really trying to keep him here? They got cocky. Darien knew he had to be a bit careful. He didn’t like to admit it, but they had caught him by surprise. Darien hadn’t ever planned to see Lilian again, but it’s not surprising that she got picked up by the council; she was a bit unique.

          “Lilian, you did well in bringing him here.” The oldest of the council members, Trila, commented more softly as she smiled to Lilian.

          “Well she didn’t really bring me here, I more so followed her, so don’t give her too much credit Queen of the Wrinkles.” Darien corrected, receiving a glare from Lilian that complemented that which the rest of the council members wore.

          The problem was, they sent her to retrieve him. Every other person the council had sent to retrieve Darien had been sent back missing limbs or had simply been killed and was never returned. So, they took quite the risk by sending someone to their death that held so much value. Did they not notice her abilities yet? That’s hard to believe. Did they just bank on the fact that he wouldn’t kill her just because he knew her as a child?

          Annoying. Lilian saw the shift in Darien’s eyes, and could practically read his mind. He still had that habit of tensing his arms and popping his elbows when he got annoyed. But when kid Darien got annoyed, he may have said some choice words and thrown a punch or two if the person was deserving. But Darien wasn’t a kid anymore. Darien had long since thrown away having self-control. Darien was now a powerful Dark Elf. Darien was now the type to torture and kill when someone annoyed him.

          Darien smirked as he heard the second pop from his elbow heard. Next came his neck. A pop to the right, a pop to the left and the smile fell. “It seems you folks have forgotten who I am… and what I can do.” Darien’s eyes were gleaming a golden hue.

          Nileon stopped fiddling with his necklace as he smiled a little; revealing a fang, “Interesting… Now the real fun begins.” Nileon leaned over to Lilian with a wiggle of his brows.

          “You’re as idiotic as ever.” Mereblorn announced through gritted teeth, giving a wave of his hand, “Just take him somewhere I won’t have to look at him please.” Mereblorn still had some old habits of his own: all annoyed Darien.

          The moment Mereblorn raised his hand to grip his hair, and shoot a glare Darien’s way, Darien began to show the council just way they shouldn’t underestimate him.