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Literature Text
On the outside, Danica was hard, cold, and beautiful, like white marble – smoothed beneath the sculptor’s chisel and long nights of rain. The sharp, painful deaths of her family and friends cut her, pained her, stole pieces of her that would never be returned. Long nights of muffled sobs (muffled, because tears were a shame to the living), her body’s salt staining the silk cushion (she must remember to replace it before the maid noticed) passed unnoticed by either servant or family.
Before her court, her guards, her mother (always her mother, she must be strong, prove herself a Queen) her feathers were smooth, her face impassive, her hair styled and her clothes pressed. She judged criminals with a firm hand and no mercy, forcing herself to ignore the desperate plea in their eyes, the silent prayer on their lips, the shaking of their hands as they were led away to execution (rightly so, they had aided the Serpiente, they had helped to murder her sister).
She met calmly with the falcons, negotiating the price of that oh-so-necessary poison, without which they were sure to fail. On the outside, being in the presence of a falcon didn’t make the feathers on the back of her neck stand on end, didn’t make her breath hitch, didn’t make her knees weak.
On the outside, she preferred the reserved Avians to the passionate Serpiente, the gentle flute to the beating drum, the smell of fruit to heady perfumes, her solitary room to the crowded dancer’s nest.
On the outside, Zane was her political partner, nothing more. He didn’t make her heart beat erratically, her face flush and her hands clammy. He certainly didn’t make her want to melt, want to sing, want to crawl into his arms and never leave, because in his arms, she was safe.
On the outside, he meant nothing more to her than a way out of bloodshed.
On the outside, his shifting skin and glowing eyes still frightened her.
On the outside, she didn’t love him.
On the outside.
The outside.
Before her court, her guards, her mother (always her mother, she must be strong, prove herself a Queen) her feathers were smooth, her face impassive, her hair styled and her clothes pressed. She judged criminals with a firm hand and no mercy, forcing herself to ignore the desperate plea in their eyes, the silent prayer on their lips, the shaking of their hands as they were led away to execution (rightly so, they had aided the Serpiente, they had helped to murder her sister).
She met calmly with the falcons, negotiating the price of that oh-so-necessary poison, without which they were sure to fail. On the outside, being in the presence of a falcon didn’t make the feathers on the back of her neck stand on end, didn’t make her breath hitch, didn’t make her knees weak.
On the outside, she preferred the reserved Avians to the passionate Serpiente, the gentle flute to the beating drum, the smell of fruit to heady perfumes, her solitary room to the crowded dancer’s nest.
On the outside, Zane was her political partner, nothing more. He didn’t make her heart beat erratically, her face flush and her hands clammy. He certainly didn’t make her want to melt, want to sing, want to crawl into his arms and never leave, because in his arms, she was safe.
On the outside, he meant nothing more to her than a way out of bloodshed.
On the outside, his shifting skin and glowing eyes still frightened her.
On the outside, she didn’t love him.
On the outside.
The outside.
Literature
I Rise With The Sun-ZxK+TxA
I Rise with the Sun
Katara didn't like or dislike mornings. She hated getting up when she was enjoying a pleasant sleep, especially when she was cascaded in wonderful dreams and failed to rest the previous day. She liked waking up in the sun's warm embrace that captured her and the way the birds serenaded her outside her window.
Maybe good and bad elements both came with all entities.
"Hmm…" She growled. This morning the sun was out to get her, flashing its rays in her face. "Go away…" She tossed and turned under her layers of covers, shielding her eyes from the light. The sun teased kept constantly teasing her, growing brighter and bright
Literature
My Very Own KelDom
Lady Kelandry of Mindelan wore a deep russet dress, made by Lalasa, which clung to the curves of her slim, but muscular, body. She had a dreamers green-hazel eyes set over a thin blade of a nose, and a soft, wide mouth. Her light brown hair waved softly to her shoulders. Doms eyes nearly fell out at the sight of her. Lalasa had emphasized parts he did not want to be reminded she had. It just made sticking to his pledge all the harder. She was his friend. He could not distract her from her duties, nor did he want to ruin their friendship. What if she didnt feel the same way? Hed been drawn to her since he set eyes on he
Literature
Written in the Stars Prologue
Disclaimer- Avatar: The Last Airbender, does not belong to me, it was created/owned by Michael Dante DiMartino and Bryan Konietzko
(World of the Avatar, In Present time)
The museum was unusually busy today. That was in part to the new artifacts that were found in the newly discovered a Temple that once belong to the now defunct Fire Nation. Katara and Sokka walked through the exhibit, entitled "Fires of the Past."
"Look" Katara walked up to beautiful garments of orange, red and gold. She read the passage aloud to Sokka as he came closer to her. "These clothes, which were found in one of the palaces of the Fire Nati
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I was doing one of those 100 themed things on live journal, and this is what I did for "outside".
For those who don't know, this is Danica Shardae from the book "Hawksong" by Amelia Attwater-Rhodes. If you haven't read it... go. Now.
For those who don't know, this is Danica Shardae from the book "Hawksong" by Amelia Attwater-Rhodes. If you haven't read it... go. Now.
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this is really good