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20dollarlolita · 5 years

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How do you store your wardrobe? I'm quite new to this and was just storing a petticoat in my vert small closet while thinking that thank goodness the dresses themselves are relatively flat, but still

I probably don’t have the answer you want: I have two closets: one for lolita and one for formal clothes. I store all of my normal clothes on an industrial shelf that I found in the trash behind my old apartment.

But in the theater’s I’ve worked in, there’s a couple of space-saving ways to store petticoats. You can use space bags, which are bags you vacuum the air out of to shrink the space. These are good for travel and long-term storage. For example, with space bags, my friend got this cosplay:

Into this suitcase:

(that bit on the upper left of the suitcase is four petticoats in a space bag)

Some people don’t like space bags because they’re concerned for the long-term poof of the petticoats. This is partially true, but not in the long term. If your petticoat is made of something cheap, like hex tulle, which won’t rebound, you might end up with fabric collapse. If you have a crin/organza/organdy petticoat with resilient fabric, or a chiffon petticoat that relies on the volume of the fabric, you’re going to be fine.

Also

…fiber content matters here…a little…

Sorry, what was that?

sometimes the fiber content–

Still can’t hear you!

This is one of those cases where fiber content matters! If your petticoat is made of polyester crinoline fabric, being in a space bag won’t matter! That stuff barely wrinkles, so no creases that form are going to stay put once they’re put under the weight of itself. All the minor creases fall out because our petticoats are giant and straighten under their own weight.

But if it’s cotton crinoline, which will take a crease, you’ll have to be careful about how you wrap it up. For petticoats like that, it’s time for

Option 2) throw it on a shelf and forget about it!

Go into any costume stock room in any theater and look at the very tops of shelves. You’ll see them, open and round and flat like a pancake, laid one on top of the other. Depending on past shows, there might also be classical tutus in the stack.

Putting it laid out flat like a pancake also stops it from getting any weird crushing and crinkling that could make weird wrinkles. It’s as close as you can get to storing the fabric flat.

Your petticoat storage pretty much breaks down to one thing: if you already have petticoat woes with deflation, lumps, and creasing, they will get worse with storage. If your petticoat is made in such a way that you rarely have those problems (generally, this means you have a well-made petticoat made of quality materials and designed with a lolita shape in mind), the chances are you can store it in kind of unacceptable ways and still be fine.

The most practical way I’ve found to store one petticoat is to use a clip-style skirt hanger, and just give it 11″ of width space in your closet. The most practical way I’ve found to store ALL your petticoats is to get one of those multi-skirt hangers, because then you can fit four petticoats into the same 12″~ish of space.

My Wunderwelt petticoat clips in on the top, but it’s currently on my dress form instead.

Here’s an instagram shot of all five of them on one hanger.

Despite years of research and working with literally hundreds of petticoats in my career, I have not found that clipping the hem of the petticoat in a hanger and hanging it with the waistband down to increase any poof in any meaningful way.

I also want to take a second to just say that yes, I know how to make a lolita petticoat and yes, I could have made my own, but no, I bought one from Wunderwelt because at the time I just couldn’t find the right kind of crin and I would have spent the same amount on the crin as I did on a premade petticoat, and holy cow do I not regret buying a nice, made-for-lolita petticoat in the absolute slightest.

My second-favorite lolita undergarment is actually a crinoline, and I got it for $20 on ebay “just to see what it’s like”. I have a chronic problem with that, if y’all remember. It’s really good for pictures, especially when I’m posing with a guitar or something. However, because I don’t like how it moves IRL and I don’t like the constant worries of flashing people the gusset of my tights, I don’t wear it out unless I’m also wearing bloomers.

Here’s a picture with this ebay “petticoat”. It’s not actually a lolita petticoat, because the floof comes from rigid metal bones, but it definitely can stand up to the keytar. You really need some kind of bloomer of half-slip for this for modesty, and you need to practice before you go out to have coffee and accidentally flip your dress up into your face.

Full disclosure, that is also the petticoat that brought us this:

so you NEED to know that your dress can fit the hoops and you might need to wear another petticoat over the crinoline and I could write a whole post on petticoat vs crinoline and maybe I should just do that because this post is like three miles long and hasn’t actually answered the question of what is the best way to store lolita.

So. Uh. Flat on a shelf, if you can. If you can’t store it flat, lay it flat so that it makes a circle, and then fold it into quarters. If that still doesn’t fit, and you can’t fit it just hanging from the rack, storing it in a bag where you can squeeze out the air is probably a good idea. If you’re concerned about creasing, take the petticoat out of the bag and hang it on a skirt hanger for a couple of hours before you wear it. Most of the creases will fall out on their own in that time under the weight of the petticoat itself.

And then you can put all your head bands on a roll of paper towels and store that on the shelf next to your petticoat.

#long post #ask #anon #lolita petticoat #20dollarlolita quality posts

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writeanapocalae · 4 years

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Nano Last Updated 12/11/2012 Part 60

“I’m a Catholic priest, it’s kind of expected.” Devin laughed. Even his laugh sounded a bit sad.

“I mean, because you’re a vampire.”

Another sad little laugh, “We can eat and drink just like you can. It doesn’t affect us negatively. We just have to drink blood to stay like people.”

Jace didn’t look at him, just stared at his drink. It did taste better than the last one but the burn was stronger and he was grateful for the ice in it.

“You really don’t know much about us, do you?” he asked.

Jace stared at him, “I know some. I’ve done my reading, had my training.”

“You NHPF officers are all the same.” So he knew. Jace hadn’t said but he knew anyway. It kind of made sense, he knew about them and was in a vampire only bar, not many people could claim to have that knowledge. “You think you know everything that you need to know about us because of your training. Have you ever met a vampire outside of work?”

Jace shook his head, a small smile on his face, or it may have been a grimace.

“Look around you.” Devin looked over the crowd, leading Jace’s eyes, “What do you see?”

There was Petunia with her glaring, washing her glasses, not paying attention to them. There was security in all of the corners, large and intimidating, their eyes all on Stoker. There were a few dancers, mostly female, dancing with Raz and Stoker, trying to touch them even though the boys weren’t interested. There were a few men, sitting in couches, watching the dance floor, shouting at the some of the girls.

“I see people at a bar.” Jace said.

“Exactly. You see people.”

Jace turned to him, staring.

“You don’t see us a species, you see us as people. We are the same as you. We drink blood and we don’t age, that’s it.”

“You kill people.” Jace didn’t like this feeling, this not hating vampires feeling. It was wrong. They were monsters, they drank blood and did damage and murdered his father. He wanted to hate them. “You drink blood. You hunt people!”

Devin squinted, trying to read him. He didn’t seem offended like Crin had. He could tell Jace was panicking at what he was realizing. “Why do you think The Claret exists? We don’t go out and drink blood, we don’t stalk the night! The Red Cross is a vampire owned corporation. They get blood donations so that it can be sold in bars like this. It’s old and nasty, but we drink it! We don’t want to be monsters.”

Jace swallowed, hard, a lump growing in his throat. This was wrong, so wrong. These were monsters, not normal people. He didn’t want to think of them as something even half decent.

He drained his whiskey, ignoring the burn and swallowing the ice whole.

Devin kept his eyes on him, “This is obviously disappointing you. Why?”

Jace’s eyes turned red and he hated the feeling of his nose filling up with fluid. He didn’t like crying. He didn’t want to do it in front of a vampire, he didn’t want to cry at all.

“My daddy was a cop, not an NHPF cop, a normal police officer. He was good at his job. He taught me a lot, if it weren’t for him I would never have gotten into the service. He was on a case, chasing down a drug dealer. He didn’t know that the dealer was a vampire. He didn’t know that vampires even existed.

“He got shot. He was chasing the vampire down an alleyway and he got shot down. He lived for a short while, just long enough for me to promise him that I’d look after my sister, and then he was gone. I was eight. What are you supposed to do when your dad gets murdered by a monster when you’re eight?”

“Uh, Petunia?” Devin motioned to the bartender, “Two drinks? I don’t care, just alcoholic and strong.”

She actually seemed to enjoy that order as she got to work mixing the drinks.

“When your father dies at the hands of a vampire, he dies at the hands of a man. It is the same as if he were killed by a black man or a Jewish man or a gay man. The only thing that differentiates them is your perception of them.”

The drink ended up being neon green. “Irish trashcan” was all the explanation she gave. They both drank them down as if they were single shots. They were too sweet.

“Am I.” Jace was starting to feel a bit more than tipsy, having had so many drinks in such rapid succession. “Am I a bad person? For hating vampires?”

“Cliché would have me inform you that we hate the sin, not the sinner. You aren’t a bad person, you’re poorly informed and you judge too easily. I think that you will have learned a lot from this. You just have to learn to see us as people, not as a species.”

Jace looked away from him, didn’t look at anything at all. He just kept his eyes down. He felt a vague sense of illation having confessed to a priest. He hadn’t done that since before his father had died. Most of those confessions were about him feeling bad for not accepting Terrin into the family. It was hard at first, hard for years. Those confessions had never amounted to much, but they made him feel better at the time.

#my writing #old writing #nano 2012

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cozymochi · 5 years

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Hi! Just curious, what caused your burn out for Dragon Ball?

CURIOUSITY IS FUN! GLAD YOU ASKED: ....I DON’T KNOW. Probably no reason or a variety of factors.

If I could take a guess, probably a lack of external content to keep me interested. Also always being expected to make DB related stuff even when I don’t want to, especially about topics or characters I do not have interest in didn’t help keep me invigorated so much as wear me out.

I did do stuff for it consistently (for the most part) for over 2 years lmao so. I guess things’ll hit eventually.

Maybe I actually rewatched stuff I’d get hype again but I don’t really have the energy to do it right now. Any high I experience in the moment will burn out relatively quickly. (I was SO HYPED when I rewatched Mystical Adventure in the moment the other day, but my hype died out almost immediately after the movie ended)

BUT BUT BUT, I guess it’s important to keep in mind that I have about 4 different main fandom-related “interests” that I always circle back to (thought i had 3, turns out it’s 4). Dragon Ball is one of those 4 main interests that never leave me entirely, but at the moment I have nothing to offer on the table creatively, and nothing is being made either officially or fandom wise that interests me either.

THIS AINT A CASE OF ME NOT LIKING SOMETHING ANYMORE FOR SURE, I STILL LIKE IT i just cannot bring myself to draw it. A least not as often as before. The only times I draw it is when I’m paid to, or if I’m pulling through for friends who are still pretty hype about it even if I’m personally not. (And even with payment, arguably it’s not DB itself that burns me out so much as one certain character i’m always commissioned to draw, and that only hurt my burnout more) I could probably still talk about it if prompted, but I don’t think i’d have much to say.

And this is an aside mainly, Idk if it affected my burnout per se, but I’m pretty sure the tumblr purge wiped out at least most of the niche audience I ended curating with my DB content. So that may have also gave less incentive to do anything. (I liked my audience in my lil’ circle way more than the fandom itself- i try to keep my distance with direct fandom contact these days) Niche audience aside, I feel bad that SO MANY PEOPLE likely only came here for DB stuff thanks to a few popular posts that circulated, and probably were expecting more of that kind of content for just... I dunno. Probably the entire time— and I can’t even deliver on that. The only reason I have over 1k followers is because of that series. And those people probably aren’t too keen on not getting any DB content. So, i’m sorry about that.

AT THE MOMENT IM INDULGING WITH MY NEXT CYCLE and so far I’m having a blast and learning a lot about myself artistically so perhaps I’ll just stick with doing that until further notice. And IF I’m particularly hyped about something that happens to be DB-related, I might show it. (Hell even with what i like right now I’m iffy on dropping anything)

(Don’t think I’ll be touching that fandom directly with a ten-foot pole either. I’ve seen the civil war tier discourse. Not nearly at db or yugioh levels of yikes by a long shot but still deserves a certified yikes. Dare I say, it’s: CRIN—-)

Also. p.s: I wrote this much to kill time because I really wanna leave my painting class lmao SO THANKS FOR SENDING THIS AND GIVING ME A REASON TO KILL 50 MINUTES JFHDGFHFHFG

Being a terrible student aside, I don’t really get asks that are curious about my “state of mind” either, so I actually do appreciate this a lot! 💕 if you actually finished this long winded ramble then YAY!

#cozy ask #anonymous #i had such a headache from class #i think this may have helped me out too

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perpshatworld · 5 years

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writeanapocalae · 5 years

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Nano Last Updated 12/11/2012 Part 53

“He was trying to be a human. He was doing everything he could to be good, be what you considered a law abiding citizen. He was a good man. You tore that away from him. That is why our people are in cages!

“You are nothing but a child, a human raised in ignorance. You do what you’re told, believe what you are told to believe. You have no mind of your own. You have grown to be a racist little boy who thinks that his species is the only one that matters.”

He dropped Jace then and he half fell, supporting himself on the wall as he coughed and rubbed at his neck. His clothing was ruffled, Crin’s hold mussing them and the back of his neck was raw from the rubbing of the material.

Crin was the one who grabbed his cane, breathing as heavily as the human was, and handed it to him, helping himself support himself as he stood back up. Jace wanted to get away from him. The creature was dangerous, as much as it hinted that it wasn’t.

“I’m sorry if I don’t believe you.” Jace righted himself, pushing the blood sucker away, “You killed my father, shot him down in an alley. That’s a monstrous thing to do. That’s what monsters do.”

Crin’s lips were tight and he reached out, smoothing Jace’s crumpled shirt, “A vampire killed your father, I did not. You need to start looking at us like individuals, not as a whole. If you don’t, we’ll have to start seeing humans that way. That’s how monsters are truly born and wars are begun.”

Jace brushed him off. He didn’t want the blood sucker to touch him.

He responded to this calmly enough, reaching into one of the pockets of his suit jacket. He pulled out a card. It was black on one side and blood red on the other, the type on it a cursive script. He handed it to the human gently, almost apologetically.

“Come to the Claret. It’s a vampire club a few blocks from here. You have an invitation so you won’t come to harm. Take it as an apology for my reactions to your bigotry if you like. Truly, I just wish you to be there so you can actually see us as we are. You’d be surprised. We’re not much different from you.”

With that, the vampire turned once more, leaving Jace in the middle of the street with the card in hand. He walked off, not looking back once. He knew that Jace couldn’t fight him, couldn’t do anything in his condition and without a weapon.

Jace looked at the card in his hands. There was no way he would go to a vampire club. It was insulting for Crin to even invite him. Still, he put the card in his pocket and set off towards his appointment, now certain that he was late.

He was, but only by a few minutes. Marra, a bodacious black woman with a smile that could light up the darkness of the bottom of the ocean, didn’t mind. When she noticed his rumpled clothes and he said he had been ruffed up on the way over (he didn’t mention the vampire part. Most humans didn’t know that they even existed), she poured him a glass of tea and let him have a sit down.

They talked for a while, but she wasn’t that kind of therapist and when she deemed that he was alright she led him over to exercise equipment. He was there for two hours, walking and stretching and pushing against her body to strengthen his leg muscles. By the time it was over he was covered in sweat and his leg was throbbing. It was nothing compared to the day before, but it was still there, a swift reminder that he wasn’t all there.

She let him go, with a large bottle of water, and he headed down to the showers. His hand still felt dirty from Crin’s touch and the sweat was drying on him, making him itch between his shoulder blades. The shower was hot and sanitary. He was quick with it, never really liking gym showers, but he was glad to be clean.

From there it was to home and to a showing of Psycho, followed by It’s a Wonderful Life. That would help him to forget about running into Crin and the invitation in his pocket, beckoning him to try out the alien club.

The movies were comfortable and he eased into the cushions of his old couch, able to let go and forget about everything that had happened. He forgot about everything. It was all horror and the holocaust and love and murder. Nothing unsuspected. The films he’d watched growing up. He almost wanted to fall asleep, a box of leftover dumplings in his lap.

But his phone was ringing and he was climbing out of his comfort to answer it. It was Raz on the other line.

“How did the job go?” Jace asked, taking the phone with him back to his seat.

“Nothing yet.” Raz explained, “We’re doing that tonight. Vamps eyes and the Incubus will be active and all that. How are you, darling? How was therapy?”

“It was fine, nothing special. I was accosted by Crin on the way though.”

“What?”

“I’m fine! I’m okay!” Jace could hear the panic in his throat, “I guess I was a bit of a jerk though and said some things he didn’t like though. He invited me to a club.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, the Claret.”

#my writing #old writing #nano 2012

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writeanapocalae · 5 years

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Nano Last Updated 12/11/2012 Part 48

The building was reused and it still smelled like the original police station, brick, coffee, and, as you got closer to the cells, piss and vomit. They’d only had the building for about fifteen years but it was still there. The walls were still pockmarked and there were still old calendars on the walls, clocks, and stains on the carpet from the previous tenants. It worked though and it was large, large enough to almost fit everything that they were supposed to have, and it was now headquarters. To Jace it was a lot like home.

His family was his team and there were a lot of families there. Each team was the same construct, a sniper, a close range shooter, and a melee fighter. They all shared analysts and the forensics team, so they had become their own family, larger and louder than all of the others. Terrin’s family was missing their sniper so they had been getting volunteers to fill in Jace’s position. It had been someone different each week. Some of them had actually had to leave because they’d gotten suspended after coming into work drunk the next day. That was probably Raz’s fault. He could make friends with anyone.

They got their orders from Captain Weep, a thin and lanky man who stood above the rest of them. His hair was white at the temples and his face crinkled, not with age but with leathery skin. His wife liked him tan but he had past that and become completely brown. He was strict and sharp tongued and he got angry very easily. Jace wouldn’t have it any other way. Your captain should never be your friend; they should never be calm and composed. They were supposed to be raw adrenaline, ready to spring on an opponent. They should be old cops.

That’s all they were, cops. They weren’t anything special, anything different from the normal police force, they just knew about the things that hid in the darkness, the monsters under the beds, and they knew what to do about them.

Jace always thought that it was strange that they didn’t have marks at the station, that monsters that didn’t know what they were doing could get registered there. They had their own place, a little community on the outskirts of town, and they got them there. It didn’t seem to be enough anymore. Most of the nonhumans they found and arrested and were forced to take down weren’t wearing marks because they didn’t know what they were.

The thing that had bit him, that zombie, it had attacked him because he shot its friend. The kid wasn’t wearing a mark, had no idea that he needed to. It turned out that the kid was human after all. Humans don’t wear marks and that’s the whole point of them. But it was his job to take down nonhumans that aren’t wearing marks and he was with one. Humans and nonhumans don’t mix. He had made a mistake.

Jace saw a streak of blonde hair and a tall man approaching him. As their eyes locked they smiled, their faces crinkled and the newcomer started moving faster. Raz was handsome in a different way, his blonde hair short and slightly receding, thin stubble that couldn’t really be considered a mustache or a beard speckling his jaw. He looked older than he was and shouldn’t have been attractive at all, but women were always fawning over him. Good too, because he was always looking for a nightly romance, some girl to go home with him. He was charming and blunt, joking about his encounters while mixing them with promises for more. Women loved him, men loved being around him since they sometimes got an encounter of their own or at least got extremely drunk.

He wasn’t an alcoholic; he just drank the good stuff. He had more money than he needed and he spent it wisely, on alcohol that he could enjoy. He also had a high tolerance and could drink it down fast when he needed to, inciting others to try to catch up.

His arms were spread and he reached out to hug Jace although he hesitated long enough to see if that movement would be returned. The cripple flung out his free arm and Raz fell into it, their bodies mashing together and the warmth spreading through their uniforms to one another. Raz was good at hugging, holding on tight, his hands clenching fabric, like he needed the other person. Most men kept their hands flat, showing that they were still manly and showing their knuckles too remind any observers that they were alphas. He smelled good too, old spice and gun oil and scotch. Jace felt a shiver ride through the length of his spine as they touched.

“Jace, darling, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you out and about!” Raz proclaimed, a light accent drifting in through his words. It was almost unnoticeable, Raz had never lived in another state, in a different country, but there was a slight pompous air too his tones. The women loved it when they noticed it and even liked how he called anyone and everyone darling. Initially it had gotten on Jace’s nerves.

“Yeah, well, Terrin said something big was going on and I should come.” He smiled, pulling away from his long time partner and friend.

“Oh, it is. Vampires and embassies and nonsense. Can’t be as important as my mate coming back into work. How are you healing?”

“Slow. It’s Crin, right? He’s trying to get all of the vampires out of here.”

“Yeah. It won’t work, it never has, still it’s good that he’s trying. I sure hope he succeeds this time.” He shrugged and looked more than a bit forlorn. Jace’s eyebrows knotted in his concern. He didn’t like seeing Raz like this at all, it was more of an affront than when his sister looked sad.

#my writing #old writing #nano 2012

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writeanapocalae · 5 years

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Nano Last Updated 12/11/2012 Part 47

Her car, an old beat up Chrysler, was parked in front of the building and she looked at her brother in place of an offer. Instead of taking it though he walked faster, ignoring the flare of pain in his leg. He didn’t want to be pitied. He hated the concept. There was nothing feeling sorry would do for him.

She actually had to jog a bit to keep up.

By the time they reached the station, only three blocks away, Jace was out of breath and ready to sit down. He forced his breathing to remain slow and easy though, not wanting his sister to see just how out of shape he had become.

She saw through him, just like always, and touched the back of her hand to his sweating forehead.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He shook her off.

“You’re really pale and shaking. I worry about you.”

“Well don’t. Worrying doesn’t do anything and I’m the one who’s supposed to worry.”

She stared at him. They’d had this discussion before but she never seemed to tire of arguing about it. Today wasn’t the day though and he pushed into the station with his free hand.

There were a lot of smiles and cheers and someone clapped as he walked through the station, but he didn’t know why. It wasn’t that impressive that he had to rely on a wooden stick and was moving at a speed that a ninety year old could beat. He smiled back and waved and felt more like an oddity and less like a part of the family than ever before.

He waited for Terrin to sign in and then she took his arm in hers, leading him through the station at a pace that was a bit too fast. He did what he could but they had only gone a few yards when he finally called out for her to stop. She did so suddenly and he almost fell over. His face had grown even more pale and the shaking was bad, sweat dripping down his neck.

She had gotten overly excited and now she was preening over him like Mom used to; like Mom had cared before Dad had gotten himself shot down in the street. He was doing his job, an honest to God police officer, not realizing that what he was chasing wasn’t a human being. He’d thought it was a drug bust and he was excited about it. If he caught this guy he’d get a promotion for sure. He had no idea that the guy was a vampire and hardly cared about the bullets that he poured into him.

He was killed like he meant nothing and the killer was never seen again, never brought to justice.

Mom had started taking pills and never stopped.

He didn’t like it when Terrin acted like their mom.

He brushed her off, leaning against the wall, “I’ll be fine. I just need a bit of a break.”

“I’m sorry, I didn-”

“Don’t be. You don’t know my limits. I don’t know them either. It’ll take a while but we’ll figure it out.”

She watched him as he breathed heavily, as the color rose back into his face, and the shaking left his overworked muscles. She was positively buzzing. There was a reason that she had brought him here and was moving so quickly. There was something going on, something big. Otherwise she and Raz would just fill him in on it. Normally they didn’t bother dragging him in. This was huge.

“Okay, what’s happening?” he smiled. It was good that she was excited, but worthless if he didn’t know why.

“You have to see! You have to be there!” she didn’t want him to know. She hadn’t seemed so excited outside; she must have been keeping this in for a long while.

“Just tell me. I’ll see it.”

“It’s Crin! The vampire ambassador, Crin! He’s coming to visit the NHPF today! He’s going to speak to the captain, I think about the vampires we use. It’s going to be big.”

The color fell from his face just as quickly as it had returned. Crin was coming to the NHPF? How could that possibly be a good thing? It was their job to keep those blood suckers out. What was the captain thinking letting in their ambassador?

#my writing #old writing #nano 2012

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writeanapocalae · 5 years

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Nano Last Updated 12/11/2012 Part 29

Crin stood, pale and petrified, the shaft still in his hands. If his eyebrows had gone any further up they would have disappeared into his hairline.

Sanks pulled himself to his knees, reaching out and grabbing the prince by the shoulders, winching as he did. He could barely move and what he could do was slow and aching. His one good arm rose to touch Crin but it fell soon enough, the muscles screaming in exhaustion and the tendons pulled beyond their limits. He could hardly see the boy and all he wanted was to collapse into a warm ball and sleep. He reached again though and this time his fingers brushed against a stubbly cheek and broke Crin from his stupor.

The boy grabbed onto Sanks, his hands soft and gentle, touching the shoulders that were hurt less than the rest of his body. The man melted into the touch, falling into Crin’s chest. Everything hurt, even breathing, and he was slightly aware of the tears running down the mess that had once been his face, but he didn’t care about them.

“I…” Crin stuttered into the shadow’s long hair, “I killed her, oh Lord.”

“She’ll be fine.” Sanks creaked, “Don’t worry about her.”

Crin sounded like he was about to cry, “I’ve never killed anyone before. Oh lord. What am I going to do?”

“Everything’s fine. Everything’s fine.”

Sanks pricked his ears to the sounds approaching, more horses at full speed. These ones were accustomed to running though, they wouldn’t tire like the ones that were now napping by the overturned carriage. These were police horses.

They were close too, if the gasps and cheers of the audience were anything to go by. Sanks’ hands tightened in Crin’s fur hood and he tried to bring himself to his feet, but they were as tired as the rest of him, even if they hadn’t received as much damage. They collapsed beneath him and every part of him began to shake. Even if he could stand, he wouldn’t be able to leave the road, he couldn’t see anything.

“We have to go.” His voice was barely more than a whisper. “Police.”

Crin’s eyes searched the road, spotting the approaching authorities and he wiped the tears from them, “What do we do?”

“Have to go.” Sanks ordered, “Go Crin. Run.”

“What about you?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Crin’s arms were suddenly strong and powerful, pulling on Sanks until he was forced to his feet. The man called out in agony as pressure was applied to his damaged ribs and his grip on the fur was now knotting, his knuckles gone white. He clung to Crin who dragged him from Vinns’ body towards the side of the road, where a thin strip of forest grew.

Vinns wasn’t staying still though. The crowd gasped as she rose up, pulling the rest of the arrow out from her chest, through the front. Sanks knew it was happening even without looking back, but he kept letting Crin move him away. She was growling though and Crin was pausing and the horses were drawing nearer.

“Keep going.” Sanks growled before coughing up a mouthful of thick blood, the movement of it making his bones creak and stars of white explode behind his eyes. “Just go.”

Crin did as he was told, but Vinns was following them with a low roar hidden in her throat. The stares of onlookers wasn’t slowing her down a heartbeat but the police were almost there, the horses so close that Sanks could smell the sweat on them.

They were off the road, the grass tall and scratchy and Sanks turned his head, the joints creaking as he did. Vinns had grabbed her dagger as well as Sanks’ leaf shaped sword, holding one in either hand, and she was rushing towards them, screaming as she did.

“Leave me.” Sanks, dropped his hold of Crin, ruining his balance and forcing him down.

“I can’t! I’d die without you.” Crin grabbed his left arm again, pulling hard to get him back up.

“If you stay you’ll die.” He kicked out, forcing Crin away from him.

He backed away, watching Vinns approach, finally leaving Sanks behind, as he should. The shadow was almost getting to his feet once more to stop her when it began to rain, thick black arrows. Some of them landed before Vinn’s slowing her down and forcing her to turn, look at her new attackers, while some landed behind her, just warning shots.

She heeded the warnings, glowering as she turned, ready to take on the police and the NHPF as they raced towards her, bows at the ready to fire more shots.

“Give up!” Sanks called to her, his voice still weak as it ran through the torrents of blood in his mouth.

“What do you think they’ll do to me when they have me?” she called out, “I’ll be executed! How easy to be human, huh?”

“You brought this on yourself Vinns. You should have listened to me, taken my offer.”

“Hindsight, babe.” She shrugged and then she turned, rushing towards the horses that were charging her, both weapons ready. The human’s dropped their bows for their swords instead, ready to fight and take her down if necessary.

Crin grabbed Sanks once more, dragging him away from the fray and into the forest before he could see what became of his long time friend. He didn’t even wait for the man to get to his feet, just dragged and soon it was no longer soft grass he was feeling under him, but twigs and rocks as they entered the forest.

As soon as the trees were blocking their view of the fight Sanks made Crin stop and, after a breather, hoisted himself to his feet using the boy’s shoulder for support. He leaned on his side, one thin arm wrapped around his back and, like that, they scuttled deeper into the forest.

They could still hear the battle and the cheers and the people shouting that the two had fled when Crin finally stopped, setting Sanks on a boulder. The man was breathing in ragged gasps, clutching his shattered ribs and folded over himself in pain. Already the swelling of his face had started to fade and Crin watched it in wonder.

“Is there anything I can do?” Crin inquired, touching a swollen cheek as the purple of it turned to gold.

Sanks gestured at his apparel, “Take this off.”

Crin was slow and clumsy as he worked at the buckles and straps of Sanks’ leather armor, peeling it off carefully and pausing every time the once strong man hissed at the pain.

Crin stripped all of the layers off of him at once, gently maneuvering them over his left arm. He didn’t attempt to rid the clothing of his right arm though, the damage limb twisted horribly. All that was left was Sanks’ undershirt and there was no way Crin could take that off of him without making him scream in agony.

#nano 2012 #my writing #old writing

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writeanapocalae · 5 years

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NaNo Last Updated 11/12/2012 Part 9

He pulled down his hood and the boy gasped. He wasn’t that unattractive and there was a short a dim pain in his chest that this prince would react so. He had jagged and harsh angles to his face, giving him a wolfish look. His eyes were darkly rimmed the eyelashes clumping together as if he had added to them and they made his gray eyes look silver when they weren’t tinged with his real power. His hair was long and stringy, unkempt and molded by hiding under a hood for such long amounts of time, but it was thick and dark and could be styled in a way to draw the attention of many ladies.

He wasn’t unattractive at all. If it weren’t for the three scars going from one eyebrow up and deep into his hairline he would be really attractive. He could get anyone. As it was, he looked like he’d been on the wrong end of a fight. He looked as if he were a rapscallion and a murderer. It was all true, but those days were past him. Way past.

“What happened to your face?” Crinoran asked, a small amount of pity coming through. The man hated that. There was no reason anyone should pity him, he hated the idea of it. He hated it when anyone pitied him. There was no need for it.

“Bear.” The shadow shrugged it off, “I was in the forest with my father and my brother. We were hunting. Everything was going so well. We had just caught an elk and were getting it ready, carving it apart to take it out of the forest. This was a long time ago, way before your father took over the country. We ran into a bear and her cub and I guess we were too much of a threat. Bears aren’t very good at recognizing what a real threat is. The bear killed my brother and my father, ripped them to pieces actually, right in front of me, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. I shot the bear, kept myself as far away from it as I could, but it gave me these. I lost consciousness and when I woke up I was okay. I was back in town, the elk cleaned and on the table.”

There was more pity on the prince’s face than before and that earned him a stiff glare. There was no need for pity. This was over eighty years ago and he had forgotten the best of it. He had omitted a few details in his story as well, mainly the gore and him being changed into what he was now. There were some things that he didn’t need to share.

“Don’t.” he ordered, “Don’t pity me. I am far older than you will ever be and this happened a long time before you were born. If you pity me you’re wasting your time. I am not something to pity.”

“But what happened.”

“Doesn’t affect me. I’m an adult now. I don’t need pity over something that happened that long ago.”

“What’s your name?”

His name. Yes, that was something else that he owed this child. If he wanted him to trust him, to not fight him every step of the way back to Soom, he would have to start being honest. He would have to give him an answer to any and all of his questions.

“Sanks.” He nodded as he said it.

“Sanks.” Crinoran repeated. It was odd in his mouth, “That’s an old name.”

“Everything about me is old.” He did look the prince over though, realized just how recognizable his name was, how recognizable everything about him was. They were going to have to cover him, change his clothes, call him something else. “We’re going to have to change your name. Crin. That’s short, easy to remember.”

“Crin?” the prince sneered. “Crin?”

“Yes. It’s not as uncommon as Crinoran. People of this country don’t usually have long names. If you don’t shorten it everyone is going to know who you are. That would be extremely bad for getting you home.”

“Crin.” He sounded like he was going to spit the name out.

“Yes, Crin.” He pulled his hood up and opened the door, heading out of the storage room, “Now then, I suggest you get yourself upstairs. Pay for Grimm, he’ll look out for you. I’ll get everything ready for our journey.”

“I don’t want to go home.” The newly christened Crin hung his head lower, his arms covering his head. He didn’t want his responsibility and at his age, no one really does. If he didn’t though, he’d never grow out of that age.

Sanks did a thing with his face, something between disappointment and a smile. There was nothing he could say to make him want to go home, to make everything simple. All he could do, all he wanted to do, was be honest. “None of us ever want to.”

#my writing #old writing #nano 2012

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