Amanda-she/her

Ally-she/her

Rose-she/her

Lily-she/her

Jake-he/him

Jaden- he/him

Preference for Writing Style (e.g. 1st person, old-fashioned, poetry, modern, etc.): Modern please? 

Special Request(s): Amanda dislikes Ally, Ally and Lily like Jake but he likes Lily, Rose is a peacekeeper and Jaden is just Amanda's brother

sorry if this is complicated, but can you do them as a group? 

I'm sorry if some written picturings are taking a while and I know it might be aggravating waiting for them. I was very busy this weekend (despite the fact that I was on break) and I write very very slowly, sometimes at a rate of a few paragraphs an hour. I promise I will get to everyone's request eventually, and as soon as I can. Thank you for your patience, everybody.

@Reuby Moonnight, yours is finally ready, after over a week. I may have gone...overboard with the dark undertones. Sorry for the long wait! (I hope I will not have to go on a hiatus) : 

Tonight is unlike all others. The trembling stars are nearly hidden by craggy, pointed rocks and all that is left is the full moon, which seems to pine, losing its splendor and beauty every second. Across the gray, silver-coated landscape the wind wails piteously…or is it the cry of a pack of hungry wolves?

I choose the most hidden, shadowy crevice of all to wait. Rock that no longer remembers the light of day brushes against my back and I listen, watching for sparks of life in the dark of the night.

Isn’t it funny–strange, even–how things transform in the night? How each fold in every mountain becomes deeper and more…terrible–how all that is vibrant and living is sucked away, gradually? And isn’t that perfectly lovely?

At such a late hour, the ruby beads on thread that winds over my arm seem to be stone vines with blood colored fruit–poisonous both to the eyes and to the tongue–and pierce through the moonlight. The velveteen of my dress is still the color of unripe blackberries but my hair, wispy and soaring in the wind, is so dark it is purple, and my eyes are obsidian voids save a glimmer of moon. My shadow is tall, taller than I and my face is a pearly white.

The trees stand in the shadows like long, ghostly tombs. I beckon to them and they draw closer, every branch hanging in silence, every leaf poised. Wolves pad through the damp, fallen leaves towards me and sit obediently. Their amber eyes stare through the rock, through the night.

We all wait, then a rustle sounds in the bushes.

The wolves leap, the trees plummet to the ground…and a scream cuts through the night sky.

TOP!

PICTURINGS COMING SOON!

Thank you for your patience, Sterling, Hawkstar, luna silvermoon, Gallium, and Milly Sunstar. I am SO sorry that these are taking so long, I've been really busy with schoolwork.

Sterling, I have yours finished, and will be posting it probably tomorrow. 

Sidenote: I might have seen one of you irl...not sure though and I have no way to confirm unless I bump into them in September completely by chance... 

TOP!

I'm not trying to spam, @Admins, but the last time I topped a thread it stayed in the back pages and nobody even noticed it, so I'm topping several times just in case.

Oh, nevermind, this thread finally topped after 3 tries. 

@Sterling, sorry this took so long!!!!!!! I’m not even going to calculate how many months it took, so I don’t stress myself out. I tend to revise everything heavily, so there’s really no such thing as a first draft for me since by the time I reach the last paragraph, it’s already fully revised. I’m trying to change that. Thankfully, the picturing turned out decent, although I got carried away a little bit in the backstory:

Whispers of tattered grass rasped across the hard grit of the rock, helpless against the Wind Dragon, who flew across the desert. The golden reptile screamed its longing, and it echoed across the sky: a pale white shell ready to crumble into sand. It jangled the gold and silver treasure tied around every scale with necklaces and bracelets, as if it were chained.

From the safety of the rock, surrounded by fallen trees, a figure wrapped in a silvery, veil-like material (as had been the custom of all the inhabitants of the kingdom before they had all vanished) scoffed. They knew that the Wind Dragon had been drowned in silver and greed, and that it sought for nothing except…more.

Indeed, the dragon had nothing but cold, unfeeling metal. It was worth nothing. It could not buy anything, for all humanity–except for one whom you can guess–had perished guarding the treasure from the dragon.

Did the dragon know this? No.

But it did know that as long as its prey remained on the rock (with the last piece of treasure), which was seeping with magic and who knows what else, it could not complete its collection.

The one on the rock knew far more. They knew of how the dragon had caused sand to bury the kingdom–how the old had collapsed in shock, how the youngest had been smothered, how the rulers had finally choked to death with fear–and how only one had escaped from the falling beams and crumbling pillars with a silver ring mingled with gold moons, pursued by the dragon.

They stood, holding a golden lighted torch to strengthen the magic of the rock. Fiery wisps of red hair flew loose from their veil-like hood, alabaster colored moons and stars spangled their silvery and embroidered robes, and sandals with spheres of marble set in them were grounded firmly on the rock.

The dragon plunged downward, and in that moment, they realized that they were no better than it. Why were they hoarding that one treasure, which meant nothing but pride? It meant nothing, nothing at all…

They hesitated, then flung their torch into the midst of the fallen trees, which erupted into golden faeries of both luminous beauty and trepidation. The Wind Dragon bolted hastily from the flames, returning its attention to the human, but it was too late.

They had tossed the silver ring deep into the blinding chaos–never to be seen again. The dragon, in its haste, roared and plunged into the fire in pursuit of it. Its glossy, avaricious eyes reflected the lustrous golden flames for a moment. Then, it was gone, inundated by the fire.

And thus, the Wind Dragon died, staggering from the melting treasure it so coveted. The figure on the rock smiled sorrowfully, and vanished…