VERY RARELY I ACTUALLY DO THIS WRITING THING but its always short and kind of vaguely floating in mid-air.
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ok sorry for the old writing bits, theyre from like… 2009-2010, buuut i stopped writing for YEARS so its just some stuff to put here in the meantime.. im going to try writing out the comic chapters of aelmidean!! and then i will post those.
sorry again for old hopefully ill use this properly sometime soon
Aska found Remy sitting in the library, reading silently to himself beneath a tall window. The paned glass framed him with the stars beyond, and Aska could not help but think of one of the elegant tapestries along the walls of the spacious room. He approached the older boy timidly, not wanting to interrupt him, and sat himself down across the ornate mahogany table with the tome he’d chosen from the shelves. Remy looked up at him and smiled, his eyes bright and clear even so late at night. Not for the first time, Aska found himself in awe of the other acolyte. While Remy was just a year his elder, he was wise beyond his years, and Aska marveled at the magnificent book opened before him. In his hand was a quill, poised to write, and the parchment was covered in extensive notation. Slightly embarrassed about his own choice in reading, a light tome on maps and cartography, Aska lowered his eyes. However, Remy looked intrigued.
Priest Benjamin had never in his life seen a miracle like the one sitting upright in the infirmary bed before him. The girl had been found in the smoldering remains of her family’s collapsed house, torched along with the rest of the town. Her entire right side had been so horribly burned that it had seemed unlikely she’d survive a single night, even under the care of the Citadel clerics Benjamin had brought north with him. Yet she had not perished that night, nor the one to follow. The head cleric, the only one of the group permitted speech, had told Ben that by some grace of the gods the fire had not eaten her lungs; in fact, there appeared to be no internal damage. However, along with her right eye, much of the muscle on her right side had been burned beyond repair, and if she did live she would have difficulty walking and handling anything with her ruined fingers, not to mention the permanent scarring.
He found Ezra at the edge of the gardens, perched on a ledge. His little brother was immersed in a book almost as large as he was, and he did not even notice Aegis. A quick glance around showed that Ezra was on his own. Aegis frowned. Unacceptable. He made a mental note to speak with the Sisters about that.
“Hey Ez,” Aegis said as he sat down beside Ezra. The kid jumped, surprised, but his expression soon turned gleeful.
Autumn at the Academy of Castellere was a hectic time. The arrival of new students had the professors in an uproar, and even the older scholars were forced to put up with the bustle. Fortunately for Henry Martel, he had sufficiently spared himself from the chaos by locking himself in his quarters, with only his work to keep him company.
Or so he had thought.
