#augustdwc2024

[daily-writing-challenge]

DAILY WRITING CHALLENGE 2024 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: #augustdwc2024,  #augustdayX2024 (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 NOVEMBER 2024 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 - August 11 Melee, Tournament

Day 2 - August 12 Violence, Tenderness Day 3 - August 13 Fatality, Journey

Day 4 - August 14 Ego, Coincidence Day 5 - August 15 Mistake, Wild Day 6 - August 16 Corruption, Fulfillment Day 7 - August 17 Enigma, Victory

[fio-renze]

August 14 - Day 4 Ego/Coincidence 

“Oh my goodness, Fiorenze, how funny running into you here, I was just thinking about you!” 

That was probably unlikely, but it wouldn’t do to dispute it publicly. She smiled cordially to the Lady Tel’vaiel — who had immediately began to dig roughly through the prepared bouquets in buckets at the front of her little cart — and offered a brief and simple, “How strange.” 

Sheizara casually rested her elbows on the cart’s edge, her body language far too familiar for Fiorenze’s liking, “Honestly, it’s a miracle, really. Miss Zerine told me you were leaving soon and I wasn’t sure I was going to see you — we haven’t had enough time to properly discuss the Estate. Did you know the Town Council has become extremely demanding? The representative from the Glass Foundry keeps asking me so many questions. Do you have some time for me to run them by you?” 

“I’m surprised Keranna wouldn’t help you. Unfortunately, as you can see, I am at work,” she gestured to her space, and the Bazaar beyond. Not that there were really any customers this late in the afternoon, but the point had to be made. 

Sheizara immediately dropped a little coin purse that landed with a heavy enough clink to let Fiorenze know that it was more money than she’d made all week onto her little sales table, “Wellll, you know. She’s retired now, at least that’s what she told me. I don’t think she likes me very much. When are you leaving? Where are you going? Is it soon? Will you be able to come by the Estate before you go?” 

Murder is a capital crime and there are a terrible amount of witnesses in this market, Fiorenze reminded herself as she quietly picked the bribe up off the table and pocketed it, “That’s quite a few questions, Lady Tel’vaiel. To be frank, I’m not sure. The leader of the mercenary group that has occasionally employed me reached out and let me know to be prepared to move if he makes the call to do so. Considering that, I can’t make too many promises or hard commitments. These things can move frighteningly fast at times.” 

“A mercenary group!” Sheizara’s blue eyes lit up with an even brighter glow, “If they took you on, do you think they’d take me?”

She probably hadn’t meant it as insulting as it had come out, right? Fiorenze sighed and took a moment to scrawl Talonoa’s information across the back of an empty card usually reserved for greetings and well wishes that accompanied the flowers meant to be given as gifts, “That’s between you and Mister Dal’shula. You’ve only recently moved here to take over the Estate, are you sure that’s a good idea?” 

“Of course it is! Nobles back mercenary groups all the time, right? It’ll make me look strong, and capable, because I am both of those things but there’s no real way to prove that by sitting in the manor, you know? Of course you know, you’re part of it,” Sheizara looked far too pleased with herself as she snatched the card away and tucked it into her bra for safe keeping. 

Right. 

“Right! Anyway, we should go get dinner, out in public like this probably isn’t the best place to talk business, is it? Don’t worry, I’ll pay,” Sheizara’s chipper attitude was unflagging as she started to help herself in lifting the little buckets of bouquets up and into the cart without really asking. “Like you heard earlier, so many questions. I have another one, too. Have you ever considered getting married again?” 

It was going to be an extremely long evening.

@daily-writing-challenge / @talonoa

[kharrisdawndancer]

DWC August 2024 - Day 3 - Journey / Fatality - Khaeris

Just as the mind wandered, Khaeris loved a good journey. Her own wanderings, the ones in books, or even the ones in tales told around a fire. Imagination and maps both delighted her. Journeys down the street and across continents were both beloved. The elven woman had come home yesterday, sprinkling sand with nearly every step, but less so in Quel’thalas, and hardly a grain by the time she reached her home.

Khaeris loved movement. So her own feet took plenty of walks, strolls, and meanders. Sometimes--most times--she would add a skip to her step or a twirl or two. Sandals or socks, journeys could be as to the beach or shuffled sleepily to her sofa.

The last time she’d taken her vardo on the road had been many years now, but perhaps it was time. Time. She didn’t want to focus on time right now. Her hand walked her fingers over her counter at the market. A pretty note of her fingernail tinkling off the glass perfume bottle and then the soft sound of the pad of her finger over the paper label. She crossed her ankles and leaned on the structure, languid in the late morning warmth of the Bazaar in Silvermoon, feeling her breath sigh up from deep down by her diaphragm and up through her lips.

Packed up, she made her way to the Shielded Mind clinic where things were tense and people bustled themselves about chores and preparations. Khaeris kept a bag ready to go behind her desk. And one at Pollux’s door. And one in the vardo. It was a habit now, to pick up and go when wanted or when the world forced it. She kicked the bag out of her way as she set up for her pharmacy duties.

Roads through her notes helped her experiment. A new sleeping draught to help the dreamers on their paths. Then something for endurance and the soldiers on their marches. A cream to soften the soles of weary feet.

‘I should find my bed,’ her thoughts drifted reluctantly, even as her arms stretched low to brush over her toes in her nightly rituals. For all her love of journeys, she missed them shared.

@daily-writing-challenge

[nahisummerhold]

Community

@daily-writing-challenge - Aug 2024 - Day 2 - Tenderness

Nahi sat comfortably on one of the log benches nearer to the back of the circle arranged for this special gathering, legs stretched out in front of her, heels digging into the snow and gravel. As probably half the tournament knew by this point, she had no problem being out front proudly sharing her enthusiasm for the performers, but this gathering was for the hosts and that dimmed the vibrancy her excitement through the week sparked.

Trist called Kon and Tal not-dads, which made her laugh, but in many ways they exuded that quality, even this gathering fit the description of family meals she heard others talk about. The welcoming warmth of dinner for their friends was something she felt every time she was with them… Uncles maybe? Big brothers? No label was really needed, but they were locking themselves into special place in her heart.

Her recognition this week that she was missing intimacy in her life was eased by the welcoming nature of this group and others she was getting to know better within the performance community. Nahi had known once she and her mother left the keep, that she would be isolating herself, she let Iren in, but she had little choice in that because his love for her mother ended up enveloping her. The decision to step from her comfort zone of Dalaran to begin performing at the Hearts of Tenacity Festival had born fruit in this unexpected way and altered much of her exterior life.

The whole week so far made her brain spark with community, it was on the edge of overwhelming, even for her outgoing nature. There were so many talented people she wanted to sit and talk to. She loved listening to the creative souls, with her newly recovered desire to open up some of her life, she had tried to initiate a way to get to know as many as she could. It was a hard line to find and not cross, the desire to get to know someone in this way versus her wanting to get to know the beautiful bartender at the Orchid club in Dalaran. 

Trist’s arrival pulled her from the woolgathering and people watching she had been doing to begin to chat, they were one of the people she had been thinking about. A budding friendship to help color a life she had not realized had drained to grayscale 

(A big thank you to the supportive performing community that showed out at ToA! I was very proud to be counted among your ranks this year.) 

(Edit: Tagging @konietzko-sylvoran and @talthorn-sylvoran for their wonderful inspiration in this and their support in so much! And @tristayranambrosio because, much love always)

[pyraelia]

August 12 - Day 2 Violence/Tenderness

Pyraelia smoothed her left hand across the weathered old map that Hilarie, one of her research assistants, had pulled out of the archive. It was a delicate thing, worth taking care with. One of the younger students — a bright star from Redridge who had managed to make it to the university on a scholarship — furrowed his brow as he looked at the inked in features, “Is that really Dalaran?” 

“Yes, the Dalaran I moved to well over a century ago, back when it was still fully in the ground,” she smiled fondly as she pointed a prosthetic finger at an outer ring that no longer existed, “It was never a sprawling city like some others, keeping it compact meant it was able to be protected by the Council easier. A thriving settlement existed outside the protective wards, and it was left behind when the city was lifted into the air.”

The Violet Crown had been no stranger to violence; even before her generation, before her parents even, and theirs, threat upon threat had been made to the magocratic jewel.

Was the present any different? 

She muttered a quiet thank you to Odille, her other research assistant, as the woman draped another large and much more modern map over the older one.

They’d lost so much.

She missed the candy shop, and the whimsy bar. Others had stepped in to take their place, but they couldn’t hold a candle to the charm of those that had been left behind. It wouldn’t do to let the gaggle of young people before her see the weight this put on her shoulders — but it had to be done, just in case. 

Pyraelia straightened up to her full six foot stature and cleared her throat to get their attention. She had never considered herself to be someone who could command a room — that was always Fiorenze’s arena, but the young students and scholars all immediately hushed their conversations and looked to her for guidance. “Alright, class. You all know the histories, you have heard of the trials and tribulations that have befallen our beautiful city. The High Archivists of every ward have instructed us to pass a message along.” 

Her hand waved, tracing small runes in the air over the beautifully painted parchment which caused glowing waypoints to pop up in every district, “If something should happen, there will be dedicated portal specialists in each one of these locations to get you and anyone you have here with you out of the city.” 

There was a palpable feeling of unease as she watched each student fixate on a different point of light, each one’s posture changing as they realized what this lesson was. She’d received similar briefings from the university and her Head Archivist each year she’d lived here, but it certainly hit different now that the Radiant Song had been touching more and more with each passing week. It was her job to help, not cause more anxiety, “You’re all the brightest of your age, dear students. I’ll be the first to tell you that we’ve received no direct threats to the city, but we want you all to be able to protect yourselves just in case.” 

That seemed to relax them. A younger elven woman raised her hand, as if she needed to request permission, before speaking out, “Is there a plan for the books and scrolls, too?” 

Pyraelia smiled, “Yes, we have plans for all manner of potential issues; I’m on one of the committees to keep our archives secured. We revisit our contingencies annually and have agreements with various kingdoms and cities. I’m afraid I can’t disclose more than that — even who we have agreements with is a well guarded secret.” 

After all, who could they trust? Especially now that the Council had become strange, even to her. She had her own contingencies, too, even if they would get her into trouble later. 

Someone would forgive her — even if she had to beg for it in whatever potential aftermath lay ahead in the infinite timelines that diverged from this exact moment.

@daily-writing-challenge

[embersoftheorder]

DWC - August - Day 1 - Melee

Blue light blazed across the wet stones of the claustrophobic tunnel of Stormwind's sewer system. Light was a valued and rare commodity down in the depths of the city, but it was thanked and enjoyed by those who tread it's foul waters. Tonight's wanderers included the Inquisitor Cheryl Duun.

Her green tinged goggles glowing with soft translucence as they cut through the dark to light her hindered sight, as much as she wished the glowing blue axe in her hands would brighten the darkness more. Her armor was tightly pulled to her muscular body to keep from snagging on anything, a piecemeal of chain and plate to protect as much as offer her speed. Her boots, soles tight and thick to keep from slipping into the slow flowing muck below her, gripped to the stone floor as she swung the stone blade of her weapon into the body of another kobold.

Most would consider the kobolds an easy foe, if even that as above the ground they were considered more of a minor inconvenience to the small folk of Elwynn and beyond. But here, here they were something different. Sinister, strong, and cunning in their movements and plans. Wielding weapons far superior to the crude stone or stolen steel, these were forged with a knowledge that they should not have. It was unnerving to see at first, but now after so many months of this vicious dirty work it was dangerous.

Beside her Cheryl heard Ramses give the order to hit the wall, the soft hum of his charged up weapon roaring to life behind her. The inquisitor gave a nod, not knowing if he saw it but she focused hard into the Tre's energy and caused it to flare bright watching the rats raise their hands at the sudden flash. Her own vision dazed from her bang, but she knew what to do as she flattened against the slimy stone wall.

There was a whine, a burst, and then the cheap smell of ozone as the arcane cannon went off. There was no fire or heat, but there was force and it was enough to hammer into the clump of foe rats ahead of the small band of catchers. They didn't even scream as they were blown back and smashed into the walls, the bodies gently folding and thumping down into the murky depths below them.

"Tides," murmured the woman as she blinked a few times behind the frame of her goggles. Her hand reaching up to pull them down and around her neck as he looked back to Ramses. The draenei smiling as he stood up and shouldered the cannon, even though he needed to duck a bit to keep his horns from scrapping the top.

"I think I got them," Ramses added with a hint of humor as he smiled with his softly glowing blue eyes.

Cheryl let out her own laugh as she tried to blink her vision clearer, not daring to touch her face down here again as she had when she first started. "I think so too. Come on, we got tunnel 17-C to go."

"Always, commander."

"Just Cheryl, Ramses."

"Very good, Just Cheryl," the draenei replied back, a wide smile on his face at his own joke.

Cheryl Duun rolled her eyes with her own smile before fishing her goggles back up before they pressed on into the under dark.

@daily-writing-challenge

[dicenne]

AUGUST DWC 2024 DAY 1 - TOURNAMENT

The tournament was over for another year, and while Dicenne found himself tired, he wasn’t as completely exhausted as he had been in past years. Oftentimes he left the ball early to return home and sleep for days, but this year he found himself dancing the night away at the after party. Not having any obligations, aside from performing, definitely had improved not only his physical health, but his mental health as well throughout the week. 

It was easy to ignore what was going on in the world with the distractions the week had brought, but now it was time to get back to reality. People were obviously scared by the sudden appearance of these ‘radiant echoes’, and assumed that something more would be happening soon with the way the armor repairs were rolling in. Talonoa had even reached out to him about his interest in rejoining the mercenary team should they be needed. He was still uncertain, there were still a lot of unknown factors at play and Dice had a lot of previous commitments already.

All these thoughts whirled through his mind as he approached his home and shop post-after party in the wee hours of the morning. It was a difficult choice that wouldn’t be made lightly, but he already did repair his armor and weapons and kept a packed rucksack near the front door just in case. It was mostly done out of habit from his years spent in the military, but there was something about this entire situation that already seemed much more dire than the previous campaign.

A choice to be made after getting some rest.

He yawned and reached for his doorknob when a bright flash of light unexpectedly invaded his vision: A burning orb of radiant light, the briefest flicker left burned into his retinas for a few moments until he was once more able to focus again on the doorknob. He knew exactly what this was after hearing dozens of descriptions of this ‘Radiant Song’ so many others were experiencing. Azeroth herself was reaching out to him, and to so many others because she needed their help. His help.

With a sigh, he pushed open the door and stepped within, glancing down at the already packed rucksack. Seems like he was given the sign he needed to make his decision.

@talonoa @daily-writing-challenge

[castien-ffxiv]

Joie de Vivre

Mistake/Wild: Day 5 @daily-writing-challenge

It felt as if the past handful of weeks had been eons. She often wondered what Cyrus had been doing in their time apart. More often than not Castien had spent her time on ships when she wasn’t sailing the seas beneath sails and wading surfs she had taken up odd jobs at the Smoking Crow in Black Water Bay or upholding commissions that took full advantage of her skill set.

Crimson eyes traveled across the darkness to her companions whom she had been traveling the past few days with. The Lady Gray hadn’t been someone she was too accustomed to knowing but had been learning little by little during the journey they had been embarking upon within the wilds of Yak T’el malms from Tuliyoyall and the comforts of the seas that she had found peace within.

Wren she knew even less of aside from the fact she had been Ward to the Lady Gray and from what Castien could tell, the two were close but they kept the relationship professional – close friends more than the norm for what an employer and employee would be.

Then there was the Lady Cress, Vahalia. Still, quite the mystery as the woman often kept her private life under lock and key.

Smirking, Castien continued to carve at the curve of the piece in her hand, having worked at it for some hours now, “The lads back home must be quite jealous of our outing.” she mused with some mild jubilant snark while whittling away.

“Nary such for myself,” Wren replied and Cordelia simply remained quiet. The book within the Lady Gray's hand must have kept her attention far better than the conversation, or perhaps, it was simply a pleasant excuse.

“And you?” Castien gazed to Vahalia.

The Lady Cress only afforded Castien the slightest of smirks and a shake of her head, “I’m certain details will have to be shared though to their dismay it might not be as interesting as they play it up to be in their mind.”

“So there is someone within the darkened halls of yours?” Castien asked blowing the slivers of curled wood from the piece, listing forward she handed it off towards Vahalia.

Taking the wooden carving, Vahalia turned it over in her hand as the piece itself seemed to be very much a small gift for her. The slope and shape of the item depicted that of a tulip-shaped bell sans any true detailing but it was quality in and of itself. There was no mistaking that this had been carved with Vahalia in mind, “Yes. Though it matters little.” she finally responded to Castien, remembering something she had been privy to several months prior, “You and Cyrus though, I recall Cyrus asking me for wood of great calibur for you when you both had seized the most recent ship some moons ago.”

A small nod came and Castien pulled another piece from her bag, half-finished but it was easily starting to resemble that of a moth’s wing, “If that is your subtle way of asking if he and I are together, then yes.” the knife continued to work away at the soft wood and a few blows expelled from Castien again to rid the work of debris, “Quite the odd way we happened to meet though it makes for an interesting story. Caught him out hard on his luck and while he was in need for work I directed him to Ishgard. That is where he came upon Eivor, Carrera and eventually you.” she bobbed her head towards Vahalia, “Bit of a wild thing that man if you haven’t noticed.”

“I have but the said could be said of you, Bancroft.” Vahalia swiftly replied, “Don’t think I haven’t noticed the tell-tale signs.”

Castien paused and her red eyes pinned across to Vahalia before cutting to Cordeila and Wren nearby. Cordi was still enveloped in her book though Wren looked rather intrigued.

“Worry not.” Vahalia laughed, “To make you an enemy would mean to make one of myself. It seems we all are familiar with the same dark halls. Make no mistake, you’re well within your proper circle here.”

For a brief moment, Castien caught a looming sensation that lingered in the darkness behind Vahalia, the space before her between Wren and Cordelia illuminated well by the fire's light but still, she had felt less of a threat enclosing the space and more at peace with the notion of being somewhere she belonged; darkness included.

Outside of Cyrus – these were her people.

Mention(s): @cyrus-black - @promethea-silk - @vahalia-cress - @song-of-wren

[tarttsweetshriek]

Day 4- TOA 8/14/24

Coincidence

Meeting Pelvis Wesley And His Friends

At some point during the tournament, I had run into the most awesome group of superstars you could ever lay eyes on: One of the greatest singers of all time. Pelvis Wesley!!! I myself was starstruck. Especially when he was with his other musical friends. Izzy Wazborn (Ozzy), Probb Zombie (Rob Zombie), and Fred Quicksilver. (Freddie Mercury). To be in the presence of the King of Rock and Roll was truly an honor. I had seen him before at places, but never really interacted with him.

I had watched him try to win Leon’s shoe-eating contest. Edible leather that was green in color. Whoever thought to put spicy things in marshmallow fluff was a mad genius. Poor Pelvis lost. But it was all in good fun. Afterward, I had asked for the stars’ autographs- completely starstruck and nearly stunned. Pelvis called me little mama and was very polite.

One day, I do hope Pelvis comes to a Wings and Metal concert- if he doesn’t mind any hard rock guitars and people screaming, Ranèk may hopefully put in a good word. I would love to do a duet with him someday.

@daily-writing-challenge

( @noonmutter for the mention of the shoe-eating contest.)

[xylaes]

August DWC 2024 Day 2 - Violence

An unfamiliar city. Beings made of stone. Giant machines within deep caverns. A crystal piercing the sky. The subterranean kingdom. Massive roots of a tree buried deep. Intense, darkened eyes staring back at him through the mirror, and a soft, dulcet whisper: ‘These violent delights have violent ends.’

Xylaes shot up in bed, dagger in hand and pointed towards the empty space beside him. No, it was only a dream. No one was there. The runes on his left arm shimmered a dull indigo before disappearing. He tucked his dagger beneath his pillow once more and wiped the sweat from his brow before realizing the sheets beneath him were also soaked with sweat.

With a sigh, he rolled out of bed and pulled the bedding off, dumping it by the door to be washed before stepping out onto the balcony to claim a much needed cigarette. The crisp breeze blowing over flushed skin was a welcomed feeling, and had become a habit of his since he started having these bizarre dreams a couple weeks ago. There were a lot of strange things happening in the world lately, it was easy enough to chalk it up to Azeroth fucking with people. Not that he had heard of anyone having this particular experience, but not everyone chose to speak of their own personal encounters. Himself included, of course. Burdening others with his crazy dreams wouldn’t solve anything.

He took a final drag off his cigarette and stubbed it out in the overflowing ashtray before making his way to the bathroom to wash the now dried sweat away. Splashing water over his face a few times, he glanced at himself in the mirror and froze. For just the briefest of moments, he could have sworn those intense, darkened eyes from his dream were staring at him. 

Just exhausted, he assumed.

Blinking away the remainder of the sleep from his eyes, he cranked his goblin radio up to drown out any unwanted thoughts and stepped into the shower to begin his day.

@daily-writing-challenge

[vixannya]

August DWC 2024 Day 4 - Coincidence

Warnings: TWW Spoilers

Vixannya sat cross-legged on the stone steps outside the Dalaran bank, watching the soldiers from various organizations come and go from Aegwynn’s Gallery. Despite still considering Dalaran her home, she didn’t feel entirely comfortable sitting here - yet she felt compelled to be here anyways. Where there were groups of soldiers, there were always plenty of visions of death to be seen, and she had to know.

Violet eyes shifted back and forth between the ranks, occasionally sketching something in the blank journal she held on her lap. Flashes of unknown lands filled her mind, ignoring the gruesome scenes in the foreground. She was less interested in the death part of these visions right now, and more so in the various settings in which they will occur. Maybe it wasn’t healthy to always know such things, but a part of her needed to ensure she made the correct decision in showing that panic-inducing piece at her previous gallery. Not to mention she had completely uprooted her life here and moved to Silvermoon, what if it had all been for nothing?

After spending a few hours watching the soldiers, she had her answer: Another soldier downed in what appeared to be the ruins of Dalaran. She didn’t believe in these types of coincidences, especially since the floating city had become a hub of activity for the military. Whatever was going to happen, was going to happen soon; that much was obvious to her. Her warnings had been delivered, there was nothing else for her to do at this point other than get the hell out of there. That was enough death for one day.

@daily-writing-challenge

[daily-writing-challenge]

Brief Guidelines Update

Mod crew here -- we're going to be adding this to the FAQ: We do not condone the use of AI to write your stories or bot networks to reblog the stories of others. If it comes to our attention that this is happening, we will block the offending blog to protect our work and the works of others showcased here.

This will apply to this and future rounds of the Daily Writing Challenge.

Thank you to everyone maintaining the spirit of the challenge, we look forward to continuing to read your work!

[fio-renze]

August 11 - Day 1 Melee/Tournament

Silvermoon City’s general peace and quiet was a far cry from how the tournament grounds had been, but Fiorenze found she couldn’t complain. The Bazaar felt as tired as she did, embracing a slower paced, lazy Sunday. 

The owner of the coffee cart near her own spot offered to trade her a cup for a couple small bouquets to dress up their table. She bought a couple donuts from a bakery stall. Chatted idly with a couple other nearby vendors. None of them recognized her except as the new flower cart woman; why would they? She’d never patronized any of these places herself when she had been titled, let alone any other noble born. 

Everything they were selling in this corner was different enough that there was no real competition, merely easy camaraderie. 

How long would this last? 

As she cut and bound stems together for pre-made grab and go flower bundles she ran through everything she still needed for her mercenary kit together. Her travel bag was still in fine form. With the right enchantments her tent would be fine in any terrain and climate. She was swapping the Pyraelia’s Perfect Penthouse scrolls for a raised cot and bedroll this time. Her boots had been re-soled, cleaned and freshly laced. At Yserina’s urging she’d slowly been swapping out her cloth training armor for supple leather — it would hold up better long term, and protect her a bit more if she wound up in a melee. 

She’d need to stop by Khaeris’ spot at some point and stock up on potions. The book vendor for a few new titles to pack, just in case, and the soap ladies for new bars for her soap and laundry kit. 

There was still no guarantee that any of it would be needed, but with the rapidity that the Song was blooming in her mind these days and Azeroth spawning memories, or nightmares, to be tackled, she knew better than to expect nothing. 

It would also be foolish to take what gentle mornings remained for granted. 

She smiled as she had a sip of her coffee and watched the market grow livelier with every passing hour. The future would get here when it got here, whether she chased it at a full sprint or a slower pace.

@daily-writing-challenge / @kharrisdawndancer

[kharrisdawndancer]

DWC August 2024 - Day 2 - Tenderness/Violence - Khaeris

The sand felt soft as it waterfalled out of her palm and between her fingers. The grains were so fine... Thaldraszus looked much like it had when she had been working at Eon’s Fringe. She had come alone. Her eyes lifted toward the Temporal Conflux. She had stayed away from that conclave.

Instead, Khaeris had found herself finding the more sympathetic Infinites that tended to pocket around the area, learning how to integrate with their siblings in the Bronzeflight. These Infinites had not found her unsettling nor felt she needed Correction. There were still Bronze dragons that itched to ~fix~ Khaeris and send her back to her original timeline.

Khaeris stood up from where she’d sat, brushing sand away from her skirts and hands. Everyone was busy these days. With these Radiant Echoes and memories. People of all races and creeds were hearing the Radiant Song. The notes of which seemed to be on everyone’s lips in titillated whispers.

Her head tilted, like she might hear it, if she listened close enough. So many were now. Pollux was. Fiorenze. The waitress who had served her tea at the Everywhen Inn.

No, she did not hear the Radiant Song. She was not of this place; not of this time.

Even so, she saw ~something~.

Khaeris closed her eyes. The air was still and her skirts hung around her legs. With her eyes closed and her mind stilled, the elven woman thought she could feel the wind and a storm sending stinging grains of sand into her legs. Images recalled were hazy, shifting, as if watched through a screen of moving sand. When she let her mind wander, let her soul relax, she had the constant susurrus of shifting sand in her ears. They had first come as dreams, and still seemed to find her easiest there. The voice had started soft, tender around her name, before the interference of the sandstorm had drowned the thin call.

Buffeted by winds no one else could feel, Khaeris could feel the pull. Toward her own timeline, toward whatever world soul might have lived there. Rumors of Karesh were being circulated here. Was the timeline she was from dealing with a threat, too? Had it already fallen?

She opened her eyes and frowned. Khaeris absently reached up and brushed glittering temporal sand from her shoulder. @daily-writing-challenge

[kaisinasunblade]

AUGUST DWC 2024 DAY 1 -TOURNAMENT

With ToA over now, Kai walked into her house in Ratchet. Setting her things down next to the door, she walked into her kitchen to fix a cup of hot tea. While she waited for the pot of water to boil she picked up the recent paper that had been dropped off while she had been away.

Twenty minutes later she was showered, changed into her comfy PJ's and slippers, tea and paper in hand she curls up on the chair outside on her porch with her blanket wrapped around her legs. The front page article gave her pause.

"Breaking News - Radiant Echoes spawning through out Azeroth."

So many had been experiencing these visions of *The Radiant Song* Even she had at one point. She did not know what these visions had initialed at first, but now it seems these attacks had something to do with it. After reading the article Kai finished off her tea and headed inside the house.

What ever these visions meant, something or someone was calling out to those across Azeroth. Walking into her bedroom, she rummages through her lists of contacts. There was one person she needed to speak to. And she could only hope that he was willing to take a chance on her.

Classes could wait, she would put them on hold for now. She felt a greater calling, one she needed to answer. So with that, she types in the contacts name and number, wrote a message and sent it. Now all she could do was wait.

@daily-writing-challenge

[yserina-starweaver]

August 16 - Day 6 Corruption/Fulfillment 

Starweavers only existed to counter the corruption that had thrived in Zin-Azshari. Justice came far too rarely to those who truly deserved it, and for those at the bottom there was rarely enough coin or favor to get the attention of anyone who could make a public difference. 

It had never been a particularly glamorous honor; Starweavers were reviled. Dangerous. After all, giving another person what they needed to truly change their destiny was often violent. Countless customers who swore to Elune and back that they wouldn’t regret it just as quickly turned heel and scorned a Starweaver as a monster after the job had been done. 

Regret and fulfillment were two sides of the same charmed coin. 

Yserina smiled up at Amirdrassil’s great trunk as her home ambled behind her, its clawed root feet dug into the soft loam as they moved — together. How many times had she had to run and start anew? At one time the collapse of the empire had seemed such a blessing. Milennia passed without anyone needing her vocation. Young kingdoms rose and fell. Her own people became something different, distancing themselves from Azshara’s hubris and greed. 

It was pure habit to relocate these days. She never needed to anymore, but what was the harm in it? Especially with so much left of this young world tree to explore. 

This new glade would do, for now. 

She raised her hands and guided the hulking, hollow tree with magic until it was exactly where she wanted it to be. It settled down with a creaking groan and buried its roots deep. Yserina sighed as she felt her seat of power growing again, her little home becoming one with the world and the leylines that ran beneath this corner of the Isles. The longer she stayed she knew the better it would be, but was it worth the risk? 

The lanterns to each side of the door slowly stopped swaying as she climbed the stair, old bones only gently protesting. If she were lucky, the world would continue to change and move away from the need of people like her. 

Perhaps, in time, Starweavers would be forgotten and she could simply be Yserina.

@daily-writing-challenge