tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21949740451983996782025-12-29T19:08:15.181-08:00Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger1035125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2194974045198399678.post-50082263741738577502015-12-11T13:08:00.000-08:002025-07-12T08:17:59.538-07:00

Click these big 'ol letters to jump to the final entry. It’s over. After four years, and a few extra months on top, it’s finally over. That statement sounds like a sigh of relief. ‘Jesus, it’s finally over. I can go do something else.’ But it’s not. Not exactly. I mean, yes, there is a sense of relief, but it only stems from finishing the story. The fact that I saw it through to the end

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2194974045198399678.post-1841104958298963842015-12-11T13:04:00.002-08:002015-12-11T13:04:31.238-08:00

When Libby opened the front door of her home, she found a book staring up at her. Libby took a step back, covering her mouth. She felt oddly embarrassed. She’d spent most of the evening engulfed in a project, her hands stuffed into an oily, makeshift engine block, and her clothes were slathered in splotches of greasy black. It was not an unusual look for her, and even if it was, she wouldn’t

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2194974045198399678.post-74056214938746769592015-12-09T07:18:00.002-08:002015-12-09T07:18:38.958-08:00

“He was slumped on the path to the house,” Fynn said, panting. He looked like he’d seen a ghost. “Face right in the dirt. Like he’d been walking and decided he’d had enough, and fallen on his nose or something.” Libby scowled. Traveller was one of the last people she’d hoped would come visit her in her new home, yet here he was, stretched out on her shabby couch, snoring loudly. He was, at

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2194974045198399678.post-49116290594549050332015-12-07T12:22:00.002-08:002015-12-07T12:22:19.026-08:00

I should’ve throttled that little shit, Libby thought, staring at the floorboards of her kitchen. There was a nail sticking straight up out of one of them, and another that looked poised to do the same. He hired a hack to do this, a regular hack. “What’re you glaring at, ma?” Fynn asked, ducking into the kitchen. He was three-quarters of his full height, which seemed to make him most

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2194974045198399678.post-4956766707854641872015-12-04T09:54:00.001-08:002015-12-04T09:54:08.431-08:00

I was meant to come here alone. I always should have come alone. “You’ve gotten so big, Eve,” Dragomir said. He cupped Eve’s hollow cheeks with both hands, and as he did so, one of his fingers chipped off and fell away. It puffed into a heap of ash at his feet. He barely noticed. “So big.” Eve shuddered, hunching. Her spine popped liberally at the motion, and she staggered into Dragomir’s

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2194974045198399678.post-88637880492805602092015-12-02T01:13:00.000-08:002015-12-02T01:13:00.071-08:00

Dragomir knew it was a bad idea the second he spotted one of The Baron’s little ghosts whipping past his head. He didn’t have enough time to say it, though, before they were launching themselves towards Eve. “No!” Dragomir reached for one of the ghosts, the last of the ghosts, as it sailed past his head and into the tower. But his arms had lost most of their mobility, and his body was just

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2194974045198399678.post-61087078611172289052015-11-29T21:30:00.003-08:002015-11-29T21:30:29.235-08:00

The struggle between Eve and Traveller was brief. Dragomir didn’t understand what was going on in Traveller’s head. With his eye restored and his body whole again, the man was obviously undergoing some radical changes. ‘Reversions’ was probably a more accurate word, but Dragomir suspected that Traveller’s personality had always been dopey and stupid, even before losing his eye. The Traveller

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2194974045198399678.post-71110778600750611052015-11-27T14:23:00.003-08:002015-11-27T14:23:30.418-08:00

It took Dragomir several minutes to realize, while staring at the corpses of the Non, that Traveller had wandered off somewhere. He knew exactly where to look. Traveller was standing outside the dilapidated ruins of an old, collapsed, wooden house. It was not a large house, nor particularly grand, yet Traveller seemed enraptured by it, drinking in the details at considerable leisure. He

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2194974045198399678.post-90116111665826344812015-11-25T12:02:00.003-08:002015-11-25T12:02:37.431-08:00

The castle did not look as Dragomir remembered, but at the same time it was exactly the same. It took the wagon and its occupants until evening to reach the rolling plains surrounding Castle FinalDestination, and when the crumbled walls finally came into view they were bathed in golden orange sunlight. Most of the castle, Dragomir could tell from a distance, had fallen into disarray or ruin:

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2194974045198399678.post-59713615298035347592015-11-23T23:33:00.002-08:002015-11-23T23:33:19.586-08:00

“She’s not going to wake up, Dragomir.” Dragomir nudged Bora anyway. The white-capped lump of a woman did not respond beyond a gentle, gurgling snore. Her face looked horribly withered by daylight, a sharp contrast to her usual, exotic beauty. She’d aged a hundred years overnight, and would probably continue to age until her body crumbled away into dust. It seemed the inevitable fate.

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2194974045198399678.post-70391346615992605582015-11-21T13:15:00.003-08:002015-11-21T13:15:47.027-08:00

Dragomir thought Traveller was going to leap off of the ground and punch Bora hard enough that her head flew from her body and sailed across the countryside. He had good reasons if he decided to do so, and he certainly had the strength to make it happen. Dragomir wondered what would happen to himself if Bora were to be killed, given their connection. But the battered man barely moved beyond

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2194974045198399678.post-19725145995480598122015-11-18T11:10:00.002-08:002015-11-18T11:10:47.452-08:00

Oh, what the hell. Maybe if I talk he’ll stay on the other side of the fire. Dragomir reached into his bag and pulled out the diary. It stared up at him, huffy and expectant, and for the first time in a long time he gave it a little smile. The diary seemed to consider this, then flipped open at his touch. A feather quill was clutched in its coiled rat tail, and it slid up to him; he brushed

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2194974045198399678.post-5388349835111153492015-11-16T12:46:00.003-08:002015-11-16T12:46:18.300-08:00

The trip took three more days from the point that Traveller joined Dragomir and The Baron. By the end of it Dragomir’s eyes were puffy and red, utterly bloated from a lack of sleep - yet, somehow, he stayed awake. He couldn’t help himself, because he feared that Traveller might pluck out his eyeball if he dared to close it. The trip, already awkward, became even more awkward. Unlike Dragomir

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2194974045198399678.post-25026045475877128822015-11-13T13:31:00.001-08:002015-11-13T13:31:25.135-08:00

Dragomir screamed, and rightfully so. A hairy man was touching his face. Most people would scream. The Baron leaped to his feet so violently that he almost burned down his small tent, and narrowly avoided tragedy by kicking his spilled lantern out of the tent at the last second. His haste to reach Dragomir was so violent that he tripped, brought the tent down around him, yelled for help, and

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2194974045198399678.post-52645673799340967752015-11-11T05:11:00.001-08:002015-11-11T05:11:57.105-08:00

Dragomir opened his eyes to a light in his face. It was not a particularly strong light, and it took him a few seconds to even register that it was there, and not just a figment of his imagination. It did not blind him after a night of darkness, did not startle him into abruptly sitting up, did not frighten him into wondering if, perhaps, the rats had somehow come back, and were shining their

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2194974045198399678.post-60341525203404322892015-11-09T13:14:00.002-08:002015-11-09T13:14:21.992-08:00

The trip home was easily one of the most awkward times of Dragomir’s life. He wished he’d been allowed to make the journey alone. Eve was his daughter, after all, and his alone, to the point that she wasn’t even really Libby’s daughter. The two had no true connection, never would have a true connection, never even could have a true connection. For that reason, Dragomir suspected, just as

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2194974045198399678.post-68564494560166633762015-11-06T07:42:00.002-08:002015-11-06T07:42:36.628-08:00

Dragomir discovered that he’d lost control of his transformative abilities when he tried to dress himself. For the last year, ever since learning that he was at least part Non, Dragomir had enjoyed the ability to shift his clothes to look however he liked. It was convenient, because he no longer needed anyone to clean said clothes for him, nor did he have to do so himself. He could be the

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2194974045198399678.post-84840447943677604692015-11-04T11:34:00.001-08:002015-11-04T11:34:28.844-08:00

“You can’t possibly know that for sure,” Dragomir said. He rubbed his temple, feeling a headache coming on. “You… I mean, how could you know?” “We’ve been following her movements,” Logan replied. “I’ve had scouts watching her for a while, ever since she lost it. Look.” Logan reached into a pocket and retrieved a parchment map, sliding it through the bars. Libby snatched it up, and Dragomir

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2194974045198399678.post-25854780213003048032015-11-02T11:48:00.001-08:002015-11-02T11:48:07.815-08:00

“I’m going to stop asking politely soon. Give it back.” “I’m so sick of this dream. Get it over with.” “Okay. Om nom nom!” Dragomir was devoured. Then, inexplicably, he woke up. Dragomir was laying in a bed. It was not an especially comfortable bed, but it was still a bed, and he liked that. As a general rule he preferred beds to rocky terrain. Blinking as much of the sleep out of

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2194974045198399678.post-4990652295684511112015-10-30T06:39:00.003-07:002015-10-30T06:39:53.805-07:00

Covered from head to toe in dried and drying gore, Eve walked. No. Correction: she ran. She ran, because she knew she might not return in time if she walked. She couldn’t be leisurely. She needed to go there. Eve did not rest. She didn’t need to rest. Her body told her that if she rested, she might not get up again. There was no room to rest, not until she got there. Once she was there,

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2194974045198399678.post-73369068035451572412015-10-28T06:41:00.002-07:002015-10-28T06:41:38.989-07:00

The Imperium’s final line of defence crumbled within fifteen minutes. Eve was merciless. The first man, the man who had dared to wave at her, died as Eve separated his head from his shoulders with a casual swipe of her hand. His helmet clattered off to the side, striking a second soldier, and Eve made the subconscious decision to take him out next. He died with a hole in his armour the size

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2194974045198399678.post-62706897735522849822015-10-26T11:29:00.003-07:002015-10-26T11:29:31.940-07:00

daddy loves eve okay The instincts dropped away for half a second, and as they did, Eve mentally gripped her own arms. She hurtled her daddy as far away from herself as she could, quashing, in the process, the urge to plunge her fist through his stomach. She knew she’d left a scar there before, and she didn’t want to scar him again. He landed somewhere in the distance, and though Eve

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2194974045198399678.post-86019131152178046042015-10-23T13:04:00.002-07:002015-10-23T13:04:32.549-07:00

The Baron’s tiny ghost had lived inside Eve since before her birth, controlling her actions and tainting her soul. It was as much a part of her as her failing organs, her unmatchable muscles, her strong heart, her very soul. It hid in a small niche in her intestines, never harming her, but always allowing The Baron to dictate her habits. He’d known he would not have been able to control her

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2194974045198399678.post-76220031262266794982015-10-21T06:52:00.001-07:002015-10-21T06:52:20.031-07:00

Through some miracle, Dragomir did not lose consciousness. His chest burned as much as his head, and with faint certainty he knew that he’d lost parts of his body with that last Catastrophe attack, but he did not black out. He wasn’t sure if this was the result of willpower or some cosmic determination that he watch what happened next, but either way, he saw. The look on Kierkegaard’s face

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2194974045198399678.post-13722754995311863102015-10-20T11:31:00.001-07:002015-10-20T11:31:27.631-07:00

We’re gonna what? Dragomir didn’t know. What he did know is that when he woke up, he was crouched on the ground like some angry predator, in the shadow of an enormous, tottering machine. The ruined Nothing didn’t look like it was going to move any time soon, but he decided not to take his chances and hopped away, head still buzzing with pain and the remnants of sleep. He hadn’t missed a

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0