Daily Writing Prompt Thread Thingy It'll Be Fun

[Lacy Duckwing]

Spoiler: Can't go back

His eyes were all too familiar to her but that was where the familiarity ended. The man avoided looking directly at the little dragon, clearly waiting for the interaction to end.

“Can’t go back or don’t want to?” Thing knew she was prying but there was also a part of her that felt it was her business to know. If she was right, he owed that much.

He flashed her a look of annoyance.

“Sorry,” Thing muttered, “I shouldn’t have said that.” She was getting irritated herself. There was much she wanted to say but she knew was not her place. I’ve hardly known you a couple days, yet you don’t realize what I already know about you.

The two sat in awkward silence as the town life went on around them. The man fiddled with his shirt sleeve. “Even if there’s a want to go back, I think by this point it’s impossible to.”

Thing tipped her head at him, “You seem pretty confident that it’s impossible…”

He stood. “I don’t know how to explain it to you, I don’t even know WHY I’ve said this much to you. You ask a lot of questions.”

Thing flicked her wings as she stood too, “Please wait. Will you be here tomorrow?”

“I don’t know.”

“Please be here. I need to do something, and I need you here.”

He looked confused, “Why would you need me?”

“Because you’re wrong about it being impossible and you NEED to go back.” Thing turned and darted off.

 

[Isabella7Storm5]

I got a prompt idea for going into the New Year with:

"Can't go back."

I know I’m super duper late but I never did this one and I don’t think I even saw it and now I wanna do it cuz it fits with a scene that’s been in my head for a while. Clouds might recognize pieces of this tho I’d be surprised if she remembers
BeHOLD
my half asleep writing

Spoiler

Aramund would tell the story on nights where the wind would not rest.

The fire flickered lazily, casting dancing shadows across the floor and around the small room where sleep was imminent but stubbornness chased it away.
Arne climbed up into his father’s lap and tucked his small wings behind him. Altair lay on his stomach with his chin in his hands, facing the hearth so he could watch the sparks drift from the crackling wood and die in the air.

“Listen.” Aramund instructed. He brought his arms around Arne and held him close.

Outside, the sky was clear and Gallius hung above, brighter than the rest, unblinking and cold.

“There was a star,” Aramund began, “and he did not live in the sky.”

Altair scrunched his face, confused. “Then where did he live?”

Knowingness flashed in Aramund’s gaze. “He lived on the surface of a lake. One so still that it could hold a reflection without breaking it. The star was afraid.”

“Afraid?” Arne was skeptical. “How can a star be afraid? Afraid of what?”

Aramund shushed him with glance. “This star was not afraid of fading. It was not afraid of falling. It was afraid of living, because every life has an end, and he feared that end more than he feared loneliness.”

“He was alone?” Altair asked.

“Yes. He would watch the other stars at night. Those who dance in the heavens. But he told himself that his solitude was worth the safety of no end.”

Wind hit the outside walls and howled in every crack it could find.

“One day,” Aramund continued, “Gallius saw this star hiding on this lake, shining only half his potential, and he came down to speak with him.”

“Did he make the star go up?” Arne questioned eagerly. “Did he tell him to go to the other stars?”

“No.” Aramund shook his head. “He sat with him. He told him many things. He told him about life and death. He told him that the end was what made the beauty of life matter so much.”

“And what did he do?” Arne loved to hear about Gallius, and as far as he was concerned, this story had gotten much more interesting.

“He did not do anything at first, but then Gallius offered his hand, and together they found his courage to finally rise. To finally shine from above.”

“Did he find the end?” Altair did not enjoy stories that ended in death.

“He did.” Aramund answered. “When his light was spent and his calling fulfilled, the star scattered his radiance through the heavens, painting the sky with the story of his choice to live.”

“I think I would be afraid.” Altair mumbled.

“I wouldn’t!” Arne nearly shouted, earning shush from his mother. “If Gallius came and told me to go to the sky, I would go with him.”

“The star was afraid.” Aramund said.

“But he still went.” Arne observed.

“And that’s what makes his decision so important.” Aramund brushed his hand through Arne’s head feathers. “He was afraid and still went, even knowing that he could never go back.”




Arne stood beside Altair on the edge of a great sea cliff.
The water below roared and the sky above churned with gray anger.
Both grown. Both many years older, but inside they felt as if a piece of their soul was missing.
“I think…” Arne stared down at the sea, barely audible over the wind. “That he would choose to do it all over again…”
Altair turned to look at Arne. His brother was wild and windswept, and yet, there was a tenderness in his face that broke through all the confusion and fear.
“When he was telling us the story of the star on the lake,” Arne continued. “He was telling us also of himself.”

 

[notabitail]

I know I’m super duper late but I never did this one and I don’t think I even saw it and now I wanna do it cuz it fits with a scene that’s been in my head for a while. Clouds might recognize pieces of this tho I’d be surprised if she remembers
BeHOLD
my half asleep writing

Spoiler

Aramund would tell the story on nights where the wind would not rest.

The fire flickered lazily, casting dancing shadows across the floor and around the small room where sleep was imminent but stubbornness chased it away.
Arne climbed up into his father’s lap and tucked his small wings behind him. Altair lay on his stomach with his chin in his hands, facing the hearth so he could watch the sparks drift from the crackling wood and die in the air.

“Listen.” Aramund instructed. He brought his arms around Arne and held him close.

Outside, the sky was clear and Gallius hung above, brighter than the rest, unblinking and cold.

“There was a star,” Aramund began, “and he did not live in the sky.”

Altair scrunched his face, confused. “Then where did he live?”

Knowingness flashed in Aramund’s gaze. “He lived on the surface of a lake. One so still that it could hold a reflection without breaking it. The star was afraid.”

“Afraid?” Arne was skeptical. “How can a star be afraid? Afraid of what?”

Aramund shushed him with glance. “This star was not afraid of fading. It was not afraid of falling. It was afraid of living, because every life has an end, and he feared that end more than he feared loneliness.”

“He was alone?” Altair asked.

“Yes. He would watch the other stars at night. Those who dance in the heavens. But he told himself that his solitude was worth the safety of no end.”

Wind hit the outside walls and howled in every crack it could find.

“One day,” Aramund continued, “Gallius saw this star hiding on this lake, shining only half his potential, and he came down to speak with him.”

“Did he make the star go up?” Arne questioned eagerly. “Did he tell him to go to the other stars?”

“No.” Aramund shook his head. “He sat with him. He told him many things. He told him about life and death. He told him that the end was what made the beauty of life matter so much.”

“And what did he do?” Arne loved to hear about Gallius, and as far as he was concerned, this story had gotten much more interesting.

“He did not do anything at first, but then Gallius offered his hand, and together they found his courage to finally rise. To finally shine from above.”

“Did he find the end?” Altair did not enjoy stories that ended in death.

“He did.” Aramund answered. “When his light was spent and his calling fulfilled, the star scattered his radiance through the heavens, painting the sky with the story of his choice to live.”

“I think I would be afraid.” Altair mumbled.

“I wouldn’t!” Arne nearly shouted, earning shush from his mother. “If Gallius came and told me to go to the sky, I would go with him.”

“The star was afraid.” Aramund said.

“But he still went.” Arne observed.

“And that’s what makes his decision so important.” Aramund brushed his hand through Arne’s head feathers. “He was afraid and still went, even knowing that he could never go back.”




Arne stood beside Altair on the edge of a great sea cliff.
The water below roared and the sky above churned with gray anger.
Both grown. Both many years older, but inside they felt as if a piece of their soul was missing.
“I think…” Arne stared down at the sea, barely audible over the wind. “That he would choose to do it all over again…”
Altair turned to look at Arne. His brother was wild and windswept, and yet, there was a tenderness in his face that broke through all the confusion and fear.
“When he was telling us the story of the star on the lake,” Arne continued. “He was telling us also of himself.”

That's a nice story. I liked it.

 

[Isabella7Storm5]

That's a nice story. I liked it.

The story within the scene is one I tell myself when I get sleepy so then when I tell it to myself when I’m NOT sleepy, I get sleepy.
So then I use it on nights where I can’t fall asleep.
I just changed it a little bit to fit into the world of those characters and badabing badaboom

 

[Somewhere_In_The_Clouds]

I know I’m super duper late but I never did this one and I don’t think I even saw it and now I wanna do it cuz it fits with a scene that’s been in my head for a while. Clouds might recognize pieces of this tho I’d be surprised if she remembers
BeHOLD
my half asleep writing

Spoiler

Aramund would tell the story on nights where the wind would not rest.

The fire flickered lazily, casting dancing shadows across the floor and around the small room where sleep was imminent but stubbornness chased it away.
Arne climbed up into his father’s lap and tucked his small wings behind him. Altair lay on his stomach with his chin in his hands, facing the hearth so he could watch the sparks drift from the crackling wood and die in the air.

“Listen.” Aramund instructed. He brought his arms around Arne and held him close.

Outside, the sky was clear and Gallius hung above, brighter than the rest, unblinking and cold.

“There was a star,” Aramund began, “and he did not live in the sky.”

Altair scrunched his face, confused. “Then where did he live?”

Knowingness flashed in Aramund’s gaze. “He lived on the surface of a lake. One so still that it could hold a reflection without breaking it. The star was afraid.”

“Afraid?” Arne was skeptical. “How can a star be afraid? Afraid of what?”

Aramund shushed him with glance. “This star was not afraid of fading. It was not afraid of falling. It was afraid of living, because every life has an end, and he feared that end more than he feared loneliness.”

“He was alone?” Altair asked.

“Yes. He would watch the other stars at night. Those who dance in the heavens. But he told himself that his solitude was worth the safety of no end.”

Wind hit the outside walls and howled in every crack it could find.

“One day,” Aramund continued, “Gallius saw this star hiding on this lake, shining only half his potential, and he came down to speak with him.”

“Did he make the star go up?” Arne questioned eagerly. “Did he tell him to go to the other stars?”

“No.” Aramund shook his head. “He sat with him. He told him many things. He told him about life and death. He told him that the end was what made the beauty of life matter so much.”

“And what did he do?” Arne loved to hear about Gallius, and as far as he was concerned, this story had gotten much more interesting.

“He did not do anything at first, but then Gallius offered his hand, and together they found his courage to finally rise. To finally shine from above.”

“Did he find the end?” Altair did not enjoy stories that ended in death.

“He did.” Aramund answered. “When his light was spent and his calling fulfilled, the star scattered his radiance through the heavens, painting the sky with the story of his choice to live.”

“I think I would be afraid.” Altair mumbled.

“I wouldn’t!” Arne nearly shouted, earning shush from his mother. “If Gallius came and told me to go to the sky, I would go with him.”

“The star was afraid.” Aramund said.

“But he still went.” Arne observed.

“And that’s what makes his decision so important.” Aramund brushed his hand through Arne’s head feathers. “He was afraid and still went, even knowing that he could never go back.”




Arne stood beside Altair on the edge of a great sea cliff.
The water below roared and the sky above churned with gray anger.
Both grown. Both many years older, but inside they felt as if a piece of their soul was missing.
“I think…” Arne stared down at the sea, barely audible over the wind. “That he would choose to do it all over again…”
Altair turned to look at Arne. His brother was wild and windswept, and yet, there was a tenderness in his face that broke through all the confusion and fear.
“When he was telling us the story of the star on the lake,” Arne continued. “He was telling us also of himself.”

The story within the scene is one I tell myself when I get sleepy so then when I tell it to myself when I’m NOT sleepy, I get sleepy.
So then I use it on nights where I can’t fall asleep.
I just changed it a little bit to fit into the world of those characters and badabing badaboom

I did remember