I'm changing something from the sheet, if that's okay. She does like the dark, (Well, not creepy shadows manifesting into shapes, but night time) but doesn't like enclosed spaces.

Ailbe~

I remember a time when the city of Cambria had nothing to fear and happiness abounded. The city was new and thriving. The very idea of darkness seemed centuries away. 

I was four during such a time, and I particularily remember the Autumnal Equinox. The ships had all returned safely that year, so there were all sorts of luxuries for sale; dried meats, baskets of little fish, several types of cheese, candied fruits, herbs and spices, beautifully woven clothing, pottery, jewelry, sturdy pots and pans, jewels, and anything else you could imagine. 

My parents, despite our meager income, decided that I should have a treat: I would get to choose one thing for my very own. I chose a necklace with charms bearing the symbols of Aeron, Seren and Zora, for I was born in a moonless night where there were only stars in Zora's month, and after my birth there was a beautiful dawn.

Lanterns and bright stars lit up the port and city square that night, and there was plenty of music. Me and my parents walked around looking at everything (Mama bought a basket and a  soup pot and Father bought some dried beef), and after that my parents danced in the city square, every step light and perfect. 

When we went home, my mother tucked me in with our old worn blanket and scolded me for staying up so late. "Ailbe, it's too late for little girls like you to be awake! Now sleep contentedly, my child, and dream long and deep." And I did.

That was ten years ago. Now, everybody in Cambria can feel the coming darkness. Every year since then has become less happy, more foreboding. And this year is worst of all. They're choosing a few lucky people to leave this accursed place and try to start over somewhere else.  I rub the Aeron charm on my necklace and pray that the darkness will lift.

Ok, are there any magic spots left? And will we know if we have magic or will we find it out later? Ill c if i can write my post tommarow. Its the fourth weekend and we're starting to get busy! 

Okay! How about, morphing into a panther? But he can only be in that form for 10 muintes, and if he doesnt change back before the magic has to recharge, he's stuck in that form untill he can use the magic again. Is that ok?

I have my flashback on paper.

Sorry if this is annoying, sometimes I post updates. 

I feel like 3rd person and paste tense today.

Komorebi~

Legs pumping, Komorebi ran across the dock board lining the harbor, the ever-so-slight chill of the autumn breeze whispering past him, giving no aid to the sweat he could feel beading on his forehead. He could feel the lives of the people around him roaring in his ears as he ran: a fisherman, a father yelling at his son, a girl toying with her magic, seagulls flying overhead, someone cooking food, a group of sailors hailing from far away. He didn't look or listen to him, but he knew they were there. And, because of the location, they all mingled with the salty scent of the ocean. 

When he looked to his destination, he loosened a little, but didn't slow down.

He reached the small dock, just in time, he thought as the bow of a particular ship came into view. He caught his breath as he waited. His father would scold him if were to be lifting crates with the strength of someone who had ran all the way from school. Which he was, but his father didn't need to know that.

The reason Komorebi had almost been late was because as he had been climbing down the steps of the magic academy, an ivory robe-clad older girl who looked to be about 17 or 18 suddenly tripped, sending her staff and bag full of textbooks and other school-related things flying. After almost tripping over her, he scrambled to help her pick up her things. When she looked up at him, she had a very annoyed expression on her face. At her fall most likely, since he hadn't done anything wrong.

"Thank you," she had said, her voice clear and sure-sounding. She immediately cocked her head and said, "I haven't seen you before. Are you new?"

"No," he had replied. "I go here part-time." He didn't launch into a long-winded explanation of attending regular school and the magic school for certain days.

After helping her pick up a couple other things, he had taken off. Thank the goddesses he had ran hard enough. He hated running, though.

Now, standing on the dock, waiting for the rope to be thrown, 

He stood on the dock, waiting for the rope to be thrown. The familiar bell clanged, and Komorebi could see Father now, barking orders to his crew. 

A gust of wind inflated the sail about to be taken down. Komorebi stiffened as he felt it hit him. A chill ran across his skin, and it wasn't because of temperature.

He could feel how the air was tinged with a barely tangible darkness. There was no way to describe it, not yet at least. That scared people, and it set Komorebi on edge. Still, people liked to carry on as normal, to go on with their lives even as they felt the darkness. To dredge up a pattern, a routine from the depths of unknown.

Komorebi was often like that. He could always adapt quickly to any situation. It was only at times like this, when the wind was the only thing speaking into his ear that he remembered all wasn't well.

Hand-in-hand with that reminder came memories of different times, better times. Cambria's golden age, before the darkness and the festivals desperately thrown to cover it up...

****** 

Here's my flashback:

~Solveig

It's the Autumnal Equinox Festival, and I am very excited. I really hope I get picked in The Choosing [substitute real name there]. I think I will, I mean, I'm super happy and they need happy people.

I do remember, though, when I got disqualified for something because I was too happy.

I was four years old, and it was the first time I'd been to the Festival. My mom was having trouble keeping me controlled, because there was a contest that I couldn't wait to get to. The owner of a store needed someone to play with her child while she worked, and she was having a contest to find a good candidate.

She first had all the kids line up so she could look at them. She wanted to see how we looked, because she didn't want her child to be with dirty beggar children. I guessed about one third of the group was taken out at that stage.

Next, she took us one at a time and asked us our names and what we liked. When she got to me, I said, "My name is Solveig Alchamad and I like dancing."

"And why do you like dancing?" she asked me.

"Because dancing is happy!" I told her.

She sighed disapprovingly and told me to go back to my mommy, muttering something about how I wouldn't be able to get anything done, I'd be too busy playing around.

I really hope that doesn't happen. It's been 10 years, and I think by now I know how to focus on a task. I hope... 

Sorry about this being so late!

____

In a small room, two people were sitting.

One was small, and skinny, perched cross-legged on a messy bed, weaving colorful string between her hands. Light brown hair fell into her blue eyes, hampering her vision slightly, but slender fingers knew exactly where to go.

Sitting on a wooden floor, leaning against the wall, an older boy - though nine at most - was focusing on a book he'd bought that morning, trying to unravel the secrets it held. Every once in a while, though, he would break his concentration to look up at the girl on the bed, absorbed in her work.

"Hey, Sinn! Look!"
Smiling, Sinn put down the collection of poetry he'd been reading and turned his attention to his little sister. Her pale face, already covered with dimples, grinned at him as she dangled a finished bracelet made of colorful bits of string their father had picked up at the market.

"Nice job, Becca," he said, standing and walking over to her to better examine it. "Is this your first try?"
"Second," Becca corrected, grabbing some new string - hot pink, orange, and blue. "Want me to show you how?"
Sinn placed his hands, much more calloused and rough than Becca's, over hers as she began a complicated weaving pattern. Soon, she completely forgot he was even there, running the three strands over and under each other as Sinn stuck around for the ride.

"There," she said brightly, after a while. "It's a necklace!"

It looked horrible, actually - the three colors she had used were not good together. But, being colorblind, how would Becca know? Sinn smiled. "It looks great."

"It's for you!" she said brightly, "when you get your piece of the Source today!"
"Oh, Becca, how do you know I'm going to get a piece of the Source?"

"Well, you've got to," she said patiently. "Dad didn't get one, and neither did Matt, so we're due."

Sinn felt like explaining to her exactly why they weren't due, but at that moment Matt knocked on the door. "Sinn, if you don't want to be late, we need to go now."

Sinn sighed and slipped the necklace around his neck. "Well, this'll give me good luck if nothing will," he told Becca, tucking it under his shirt collar. "I'll come back with a piece of the Source. Don't you worry."

And she didn't.

He did, though.

He worried about that scar on his brother's palm.

Sorry for taking so long to post, I'm a terrible procrastinater! Also, just so everyone knows, I'm going camping Today-Sunday, so I won't be able to post on those days.

Aine~

"Mama look! A juggler!" I shout, tugging at my mother's hand with all my 4 year old might.

Mama lets herself be pulled along, a smile on her face, to where the juggler in his funny clothes tosses colorful balls aroud and around in a neverending cycle. My mouth hangs open as he continues to add more and more balls in. Soon they become a blur of bright colors flying through the air at top speed. I could be entertined by this for hours if some brightly dressed dancer a few feet away didn't catch my eye. I run as fast as my little legs will carry me across the crowded cobblestone street, my mama following close behind. 

This festival is my favorite time of the year. EVeryone in town and the nearby towns comes ou to trade, sell their wares, and entertain. The normally quiet streets become filled with shoppers, children, market stalls, annd entertainers. Not a single person has a worry or care, and there are smiles and laughter everywhere.

At least, that's how it used to be. Now, 10 years later, the festivities are drowned in sadness. The memories of how happy we used to be makes us wish for what we can't have. These days, smiles and laughter are just masking the pain and sadness of years and years of darkness. 

(This is the same thing as yesterday, only yesterday I did a dumb and put the comment on page 7 or something where no one can find it)

Hey September, I am now QuillDragon on NaNo if you want to talk world-building ;)

Toppety toppety TOP TOP TOPTOPTOP!!!!!

Top! What are we going to write about after the flashbacks? How is the Choosing (or whatever we're calling it, I'm not sure) going to work?

I stand, cramped and shivering, in the cool breeze, next to
my mother (and hundreds of other people, strangers, crushing me, but not
helping me to feel warmer). Lately I’ve felt cold and a bit dim inside, like my
internal lantern is flickering. Ithink it’s because of the great darkness
coming. I hear peasants discuss this Darkness often, and I notice that there
are fewer foods being sold in the markets now. When I tried to tell this to my
father, he told me I was being ridiculous. I don’t think so. I didn’t always
feel a Darkness, though. Things were different.

            I am standing on the plush, abundant
carpeting in our enormous house, looking out our small windows at the rain.
Father says to me, “Why look at that disgusting gray when you could gaze at the
beautifully woven tapestries all around us?” But I am a little girl of four
years old, and, to put it frankly, I don’t give a whit about Father’s
tapestries. And before he can say a word, I dart out of our grand doors and
into the pouring rain. It’s warm outside, and I skip happily through the rain
down to the harbor.

            I
grin at the sight of the still bustling marketplace by the sea. Through the
rain I can see blurred shapes and vibrant colors. Lavender, saffron, scarlet,
cerulean,--teapots, spindles, looms, clothing,-- raspberries, apples,
gooseberries [Author’s question: do these exist in Cambria?]—everything that
could possibly exist is here. I stand still, mesmerized by the blurry yet
bright objects shining through the rain. 

            All
too soon a dark shape hurtles towards me carrying a lavender umbrella. It calls
out, “Sarah! As your mother, I’m afraid I must tell you, for your own safety,
to go home.” She looks around at the market, and on her face I see the
wondering expression mirrored on my own. 
She shakes herself. “Your father expects you back at our home
immediately.” She pauses.

            “You
know,” she says with a mischievous grin, “It’s okay to disobey sometimes.” We
stand with our arms around each other and watch the city go by.

            Now,
ten years later, I stand in the same position, watching a scene far less
pleasant:  The Lottery. [name?] In
itself it isn’t bad, I suppose, but everything is dark and gray and the energy
of the audience is low.  Let’s hope
the Lottery can save us; right now the future looks dark.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sorry if the formatting is weird, I typed it on Word and copied it. Also, sorry I'm so darn late.