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Special Event 1: Lyre part 2Lyre narrowed his eyes and his grasp tightens on his crossed arms as he watches the figure across the way. For what seems like eternity they keep looking at each other when a scream splits the air. Lyre’s focus quickly seeks out its source, deciding that they were more important than the figure watching him.
A young female demon jumped out of her seat a few yards from Lyre, making the group of males she was with stare at her in confusion for a bit. She stutters incoherently and points at something on the ground. Lyre grits his teeth as he watches a familiar green serpent rapidly weaving her way among the chair legs on her way back to him. The males, realizing that Lon was the cause of the female’s fear start to crash after her. When Lon reaches his chair Lyre hangs his arm down for her to slither up while his eyes watch the angry demons coming towards him. They all pause and stand in a circle around him while Lon hisses at them from
Special Event 1: Lyre part 1The sounds of festivities echoes into the darkening sky as the sun sink beyond the horizon, taking its sweltering heat with it. Now that the air was cooling off, the masses are increasing as they leave their shelters of the day in search of entertainment. The tempting scents of many different foods wafts through the air, drawing most of the population towards the main square for various food eating contests and stalls of different delicacies. And even though most of the beings had only just recently come out, some had already been out all day.
Lyre was one such person. He had spent his day hiding his eyes throughout the town. Festivities like this provided him with a wonderful opportunity to collect information on a wide variety of the population. And no one knew what someone would pay for information on the embarrassing events that unfold during the festivities.
Carefully Lyre secures his scroll to his back before reaching down and placing his secon
Tundra: Into the WoodsSilently the wind rustles the leaves of the trees, their starkly empty branches clawing at the slowly lightening sky. A few small snowflakes fall from a cloudless sky as the quiet that belongs to a winter night slowly fades as the sounds of life carries through the cold air. In the distance you can barely see the dark forms of ritari being led out to the pastures. Slowly they become distinguishable as mares and their young foals, the small silhouettes clinging close to the warmth of their mothers. Except for one young filly, who is easily jogging around the large paddock.
The filly's sturdy legs allow her to plow through the snow, a large cloud of the white stuff flying out behind her, giving the impress that she has white wings. Soon however, she gets bored with just running around and slows to a steady walk before turning back towards her mother. It does not take her long to make her way back to her mother's side, wher
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The Coffee GodThe Coffee God behind the counter shuffles foot to foot, a dance of steam and espresso. Black painted fingernails, inch gauged ears and a gray striped sweatshirt, hood crooked on his back. There's a cigarette tucked behind one ear; it bobs and twitches with each step.
“Non-fat caramel latte,” he calls, just as he always does, part of a spell, part of a mantra, toneless (just a tuck at the end). I reach. He looks up.
The espresso maker hisses.
There's something like a grin, something like a spark, something like a shared secret linked eye to eye. When he passes over the drink (rough cardboard sleeve hot to the touch), he lingers. Our fingers brush, a shiver, a jolt, a ten-watt shock.
The Coffee God tilts his chin, shouts, “Hey, mind if I take my break now?”
and ducks around the counter without waiting for a reply.
He slips his cigarette between his lips without taking his eyes from mine. I follow him out the door.
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