Hadrian makes his move

Miss Lyria? Might I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

She stepped towards him, extricating herself from the giggling knot, but not otherwise making any move to leave. Did she expect him to ask her here, right now? Well, of course she would. Serpents were voyeurs—or at least, not shy. Damn. Would it be offensive to ask them to leave? Or ask her to leave with him? That’s what he was doing, indirectly, asking if she’d be open to more private conversation. So why was he waffling now?

Damn it all, this was exactly why he’d resolved to do things his way, on avian terms. He just couldn’t hope to keep up with the delicate dance of serpent flirtation. If he had any hope of holding his own, it would have to be by avian standards, safe within avian tradition.

Do or die.

“Miss Lyria. I would like very much to go walking with you. To court you. After the avian fashion.”

His throat began to tighten, the familiar nervous cough building in the back of his throat. He could do this. He would do this. Do or die.

“I hate to ask it in such coarse terms, but I have been entertaining the idea for a while now, and this is the only way I can see to manage it. I am not a demonstrative man,  as you may have noticed, and quite frankly, the idea of a serpentine courtship terrifies me. But I am not so naive as to be unaware of the natural progression of relations between a man and a woman, and I see no reason why we could not do the same. In time. If you’re amiable. And we decide we actually like each other. That is. Oh dear.”

It had all gone so much better when he’d proposed to the apple trees.


Meet Hadrian

Moving has eaten my life, but I’m still making time for writing, this time another avian/serpent fluff piece. Setting is concurrent with Kortan’s, so about… 1000 years before Asylum. Enter our main protagonist, an adorably dorky avian guard named Hadrian.

This was it. He was going to do it. Today. Right now. No turning back.

As soon as he could convince his feet to move.

He’d tried his speech out a hundred times, on unsuspecting rosebushes, apple and olive trees alike. He was ready. He could do this.

Just … feet.

He’d steeled himself so thoroughly against running away that he couldn’t seem to take the first step. Move, move damn you! He stared at his useless feet, but they wouldn’t budge.

“Alright then,” he said aloud, hoping the sound would spur him to something. “If we aren’t going downstairs, then we’d better go find some way to make ourselves useful, hadn’t we?”

His feet continued to do nothing.

Disgusted, Hadrian threw himself back onto his bunk with a sigh. He half expected his boots to remain planted. But no. Now that he’d given up, his body was all-too-willing to lie there, staring uselessly at the ceiling.

He was never going to work up the courage to ask Lyria to go walking.

Meet Ciamat

She never felt broken. Bathed in the light of her cousins’ joy, she never felt left out, wistful, longing. All she felt was the glory of the dance, swept up in rush of heat and movement and praise. Her aura joined theirs, sending her adoration to the shining goddess that had granted them this gift. She never cursed Li’Daea for the extra fire in her veins, igniting her joints with blazing pain when she stood too long. She simply danced with her cousins, spirit in ecstasy though her body did not move.

“Again,” she said, when the dance had spiraled down to its graceful conclusion. “It was almost perfect, but that second to last half turn was muddied, the aura rippled funny. Zi, Tan, Rak, slow it down. Viti, Nalia, bring the arc in a little faster. That should do it.”

She didn’t move, but she danced.

Playing around again in Kortan’s world, cause I just can’t get enough of that sweet, sweet avian/serpent romance. Ciamat is a dance instructor, sister to Lyria, the lovely serpent lady that has captured my avian boy Hadrian’s attentions. The writing of it is going well so far, in spite of the chaos of moving. Hopefully, I’ll have the piece finished soon and we’ll see where it goes from there. 🙂

Drabble: No Where

Moonlight. Why did it always come back to moonlight?

Seth leaned his head back against the enormous rock that stood as the only landmark in the otherwise unremarkable white land. This damned desert never saw any sun, any color. Just an endless stretch of white. He wanted to strike his hand against it, stain the land with one little bright spot of crimson.

Red scales on white. Red blood on sand. What was the point of any of it?

“What is the point of anything, dear brother?”

Naj was suddenly beside him. Seth’s scowl was suddenly deeper.

“I suppose telling you to go away would be pointless?”

“Especially as there’s never been anywhere else to ever go.”

He scoffed. “There’s always wherever you’ve just come from.”

Naj sighed, and stretched out in a long, indolent line. “No where to go, no where to come from. No where to be heading to. Why are we heading no where, dear brother?”

Naj has turned to look at him, but Seth kept his eyes resolutely ahead. “No where to go. Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

Naj didn’t strike him, but the flash of thought was fierce and intense enough that he might as well have. There was no hiding such thoughts here.

Seth didn’t react. Naj pushed to his feet with a sound of disgust.

“Always so maudlin, brother mine. You’re such delightful company.”

Seth framed a thought about leaving if he didn’t like it, which Naj immediately parried with the reminder that there was no where to go, and wasn’t that exactly what they were discussing, and who’s fault was it they were feeling so stagnant lately anyway?

“We aren’t discussing anything,” Seth said sullenly, tired of the mental assault. “We’re just standing around, airing out our petty grievances.

Naj glowered and mirrored back the exact impression Seth had started them off with: if he didn’t like it, why didn’t he just leave. Seth blew out a long breath and closed his eyes.

“Go away, brother mine. I’m tired, and not of a humor to deal with this.”

Naj exploded in a roar of fire, the proverbial phoenix finally at its end. There was no sign of him in the fire’s wake. Not even a scorch mark or foot print in the sand.

“Nothing ever changes here.”

Above, the moon continued to hang, and the stars stood their silent watch.

Asylum Teasers

Really loved these excerpts from Asylum’s re-writes. Thought I’d share them here with you all too.


Nica broke off, starting to catch on. “Naj doesn’t know you exist, does he? That’s why we’re even talking right now, because I used your name-”

A tapping at the door drew both their attentions.

Seth’s head whipped to the door, obviously disturbed. “No one knows,” he whispered fiercely, “and for now I beg you to help me keep it that way.”

His blatant panic shattered his aura and spiked straight through hers. It made her reach out to him, squeezing his arm. “Alright, I’ll help you. It’ll be okay.”


(cheating and doing two, cause it’s from the same scene, but I have to cut out a massive chunk of the middle for spoilers)

A lone figure moved across a moon-washed landscape, endless dunes cut in sharp shadows in the cold light. A singular rock loomed up out of the sand, a small oasis in its lee. The watcher moved swiftly across the sands, steps sure and light, in spite of his burden.

Abruptly, the watcher shifted, glittering red scales winking in the firelight. He cut a crimson gash across the sand as he went, the only color in a moon-washed world. That, and the golden glow of sunlight he made for on the horizon.


The dream he entered was full of color, and life. Blooms of every variety scattered here and there, careless and carefree. There was no logic to it, no plan, but there was a underlying rhythm, a rightness, that drew his eyes and his steps forward, inward. Come in, come in and be welcome. Join the dance.

And indeed, the path opened up onto a clearing, where many bodies wove in and out of a glorious dance. Feet pounded out the rhythm, voices raised to create layers of harmony, auras splashing against and through one another in a riot, a mad cacophony of sight and sense and sound. Life pulsed, each beat and note filling the garden, making the colors pop. The heat of the many bodies mingled with the perfume of many flowers, and under it all, the musky, warm scent of cobras. Home.

OC Interview

Been doing a lot of fun stuff over on ye olde tumblr and I thought I’d share this little tidbit with you all here on the blog. I think it turned out surprisingly well. It’s always nice to be reminded that the main three seem to carry on when I’m not looking. They came into this interview feeling one way (impacted by events that I’m currently unaware of), and worked some stuff out and went on to have a perfectly lovely time (I assume). Either way, I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Continue reading

Prompts: Thunder and Hooves

Prompt: She dreamed of the sound of thunder and hooves.

There was no way to quiet the panic in her brain, even when she reminded it they were dreaming. Just a dream. They were not actually astride a giant eagle, racing alongside the wind walkers. It was just a dream–albeit a truly frightening one.

She gripped the eagle tighter with her legs, earning her a mental spike of protest. She tried to project back an apology, but her brain was still flooded full of fear.

There’s just no help for it, she thought. Some things you can’t unlearn.

Like treating her animal half as a separate self when she dreamed. Or lifelong fear of flying above the storms, where the wind walkers galloped across the tops of the black clouds.

They banked, her eagle self turning them away from the storm at the nightmares that raced atop it. Her animal knew better, knew the walkers would not devour them in their dreams. It urged her to relax, to embrace the flight, and chase the dream into the dawn.

But all the while, she heard the thunder of hoof beats behind her, felt the cold, damp wind on the back of her neck, and knew there was no outrunning the beasts that ran the sky.