Riven Wight

MONSTORY

“Well, that’s good,” Izzy responded with an amused smile at Holden’s response.
When Mikey pointed out that she still had his paper, she glanced between him and it with a sheepish expression. “Oh.” She cleared her throat slightly. “Right.”
She held it in front of her. Though still the chicken scratch of youth, this time, without it moving frantically in her grip, she was capable of making out most of the address he had written down. If she could read it, she figured Holden would be capable of the same feat.
“Since you're from around here,” she reached over to hand him the address and map, “have any idea where this is?”

MONSTORY

Izzy’s brows rose at the boy’s response, silently commending him for his caution and glad he had at least given up trying to get the paper. For now, anyway.
“I didn’t steal it,” she responded, lowering her hand and the paper slightly, but keeping an eye on Mikey. “Just temporarily confiscated it.”
When Holden reminded her that he was still there, calling out to her, she instinctively turned toward him. She glanced back to the kid when he moved, adjusting where she held the paper in case he decided it was a good time to go after it.
“It’s alright,” she tried to reassure Mikey. “He’s that friend I mentioned.” She looked back toward Holden and raised her voice as she continued. “This is Mikey,” she answered his question. “Mikey Hendrickson. He’s trying to find a place, but he’s lost.” She turned back toward the child. “I can’t read your handwriting. What address are you looking for? Maybe I or Holden,” she raised her voice again when she said his name so he would hear, “could point you in the right direction.”

MONSTORY

Izzy looked at the boy curiously at his unusual analogy. Mentally shrugging it off, she stretched out her free hand to try to better keep Michael at bay as he paused to try finding his words.
“You’re what? Nine? Ten? I’m not going anywhere until I make sure you get where you’re going safely.” She let part of the paper unfurl so its messy writing and doodles faced her. She glanced up at its indecipherable words, and sighed. “So how about we try this again.” Still, she did not return his paper, but did her best to look him in the eye. “Hello, Michael. My name's Izzy. Is there somewhere or someone I can help you find?”

MONSTORY

Izzy frowned at the note. When he began his protests, she quickly bent it loosely in half, and held it as high up as her reach allowed.
She raised her brows, wondering if he knew what “you’ll rue the day” even meant. Bending back slightly, she sidestepping to prevent him from retrieving his note.
“Since I have your attention,” she began. She never stopped moving, “are you lost? A runaway? Are you in some sort of trouble… besides me taking your paper. If you tell me where you’re trying to go, I can help you get there. Or find someone else to help.”

A Land of Wonder and Nightmare

Okay. After eleven days, I apparently got inspired. xD As always, let me know if you need me to adjust anything to give you any extra wiggle room with Ghent or anything.

Heh, nice about the hobbit dress! Hey, there’s another project for you if you do find everything for it!

It ended up there through imagination. I was totally joking. xD I’ve been too OCD since I was probably around eleven for anything really bad like that to be there. I’ve had friends, though, who I was surprised did not have mold growing in their closet or under their bed. HA! Oh my gosh. That’s wonderfully horrible about the milk-turned-yogurt.

Do I sense the possibility of a, “I’m bored. Let’s throw these guys into random situations,” somewhere down the line?

If it makes you feel any better, I’m not too far behind you.

“The impressive maze of metal.” I really like that description, and you did wonderfully with Ghent and the magic! Just thought I’d let you know.

I totally understand binge watching Netflix more than what’s probably healthy. Heh.

A Land of Wonder and Nightmare

Elayra exhaled through her nose at Ghent’s statement. “You think, Featherhead?” She rolled her eyes and carefully shouldered the pack she still carried, freeing both of her hands. If something went awry, she wanted to have full mobility without having to abandon it. With their luck, this was bound to end badly.
Elayra watched Ghent intently as he placed a hand on the metal of the gate where its two sides met, creating a thick bar down its center.
Beneath his fingers, the ironwork was surprisingly warm, even for the mild weather surrounding them. It glistened with morning dew, his touch disrupting the minuscule droplets. If he focused hard enough, though the pulse of the light had extinguished, what little magic remained imbued in the gate still thumped through it, giving it an aura of something somewhere between alive and inanimate.
Elayra looked away from him only to cast Drust a quick glance. His eyes bore into Ghent, the colors of the Curse entwining with a pleading hope. He held his breath, his fists clenched at his sides.
She looked between him and Ghent. If the featherhead did mess this up, it could cause more damage than he imagined.
“Drust,” she began. Despite her soft volume, her voice sounded loud in her ears in the quiet that had fallen around the gate. “Maybe we should—” She moved to jerk her head to indicate they should move, but Drust interrupted.
His head twitched fractionally toward her, his face twisting in a silent snarl. “Quiet, girl,” he snapped, his voice as low as Elayra’s.
She frowned, but her mouth snapped shut as his neck twitched and the black lines snaking from the corner of his eyes gave a warning pulse. She slowly turned her attention back to Ghent, wondering if he was having difficulties connecting with Wonderland’s magic.
At first, the gentle, tingling sensation of magic flit about Ghent. The harder he reached out to it, the more it danced around him, almost toying with him. If Earth’s magic was an eager puppy, then Wonderland’s was an old bloodhound sniffing out the newest member of the household. A household that had had its doors locked and curtains pulled over the windows for far too long. Curious, yet cautious. Willing, yet tentative.
Then, the old bloodhound decided.
The world’s magic wrapped fully around Ghent, the gentle tingle turning into a warm shock somewhere between comforting and unpleasant to an unsuspecting soul. It welled inside him, filling him with its ancient presence from the soles of his feet to top of his head. Listening, waiting for Ghent’s guidance.
When it received no immediate requests or orders, it grew agitated, its warmth turning into an irritated electric heat that swelled in his chest and brushed over his skin, making the hairs on his arms stand on end beneath the sleeves of his hoodie. It had better things to do than wait around for a novice to gather his nerves.
“CONRARE!”
Ghent’s shout echoed off the metal of the gate. The moment the word left his mouth, a misty light a swirling mix of gold and silver burst to life around his hand, leaving only a faint silhouette of his fingers within its center. In the blink of an eye, it looked as if the thin crack between the sides of the gate absorbed the power. It shot down the crack toward ground and arch, setting it aglow and spitting off an occasional silver or gold spark.
When the light reached its destination, with a small explosion of color, it dispersed through the ironwork. It vanished, only to be replaced by the same mysterious shimmer that had passed over the gate at Drust’s show of force. Only this time, it looked as angry as a shimmer could look.
The gemstone heart at the crest of the arch ignited a pink that quickly turned red. Before any of the trio could so much as gasp, with a deep whoomp just barely in their hearing range, a rush of transparent energy surged from the gate.
“Elay—!” Drust tried to reach out to his closest charge, to pull her to him, but he did not get the chance. The force of the energy sent the unusual companions flying off their feet and a couple yards back down the weed-choked path.
Elayra tried to turn midair to avoid landing on her back. Instead, she hit, hard, on her side as Drust landed a few feet to her right.
The instant Drust's back hit the ground, he hopped to his feet in a perfectly executed kick-up that would have had Bruce Lee make a run for his money. “Elayra! Ghent!” His eyes fell first to Elayra, then searched for Ghent, concern in his sharp, clipped tone.
In response, Elayra groaned and returned to her feet as swiftly as she could, her arm slightly sore from the impact, but otherwise none the worse for wear. Fallen leaves sticking to her damp clothes, she searched for Ghent, checked that both he and Drust were okay for the most part, before looking to the gate.
It remained as solid and shut as it had when they first reached it, the light in the top once more dormant.
“Oh, come on!” Elayra shouted at it, her cheeks flushing in anger furled by desperation. “That was BRILLIANT!” Ignoring the fact that she had just inadvertently complimented Ghent, she stormed back toward the gate.
For once, she thought heatedly, just once, can’t something work the way it’s supposed to?!
“Elayra!” Drust spat through his teeth. When she paid no attention to the threatening sound of her name, he growled low in his throat as his neck twitched violently, then hurried after the girl.
Elayra gripped either side of where Ghent had placed his hand and tugged in a final effort to make sure it had not, in fact, worked. To her dismay, the gate barely moved an inch. “Open, you stupid, good-for-nothing—”
Elayra inhaled and glanced up as the heart above her once more ignited with a soft pink glow. She hastily released the gate just before Drust gripped the top of her backpack and yanked her back more forcefully than necessary, almost wrenching the pack from her shoulders. She stumbled back, nearly losing her footing, and gasped when the pack thumped back against her, irritating the bruise beneath.
In front of them, one of the heavy iron gates swung outward with a high-pitched squeak, creating an opening just wide enough for someone to slip through.
For a long moment, Drust and Elayra could only stare.
A triumphant smile pulled at Elayra’s lips as she turned toward Ghent. “Looks like you did something right for once, Featherhead!”

MONSTORY

When the child only gave her his silent, condescending glare, his burgundy gaze made that much more intense being eye-to-eye, she inhaled. When he again turned from her, she let out a frustrated snort, and straightened.
She cast a dark glare over her shoulder at Holden’s comment. I’m trying to see if there’s something wrong, here, she answered him silently, before turning her attention back to the boy, frowning.
“Fine then.” She crossed her arms, and glanced to the piece of paper she had not been capable of getting a decent look at.
As swiftly as she could, she snatched at the piece of paper he held to pull it from his hands, hoping that if it did not give her insight to what Michael was doing there, she could at least use it as leverage to find out.

MONSTORY

When the boy at last looked at her, Izzy gave him a friendly smile as she looked him over, the expression faltering slightly when her gaze meet his.
She blinked in surprise at his reaction to her. Her lips pursed in frustration for a moment, before she replaced it with a neutral expression. She was a stranger to him, and most kids were taught to be wary of strangers. Perhaps that was his way of trying to make someone he did not know back off.
Not one to be deterred by such a statement, especially one she and her brothers shared among themselves often enough, she bent and placed her hands on her knees so she was closer to eye-level with him.
“Fine by me.” She shrugged. “But you look like you need help.” She tilted her head, trying to get a better look at what was written on Michael’s paper. “Are you trying to find your way home? My friend,” she nodded backward to indicate Holden, “and I know this place fairly well. We could help you. Or I could call a police officer, if you'd like that better.”

A Land of Wonder and Nightmare

Huh, that’s cool about the pattern! Do you remember ever getting it, or is it a surprise? Good luck with you closet clean-out! Watch out for anything that’s become animated. Like food that gained a life of its own from being left a little too long in the closet’s dark recesses. I had a hotdog try to take over the world from the corner of my closet once. It was rather awkward.

Ha! That’s great about the dream. Man, the havoc Elayra and Ghent could wreak in a high school!

Glad you liked the songs!

Yep, I’d say it’s safe to diagnose you with Wonderlanditis.

AWESOME! *Checks it out.* Seems a good length for what little we’ve seen of him so far. He’s wonderful! I love everything about it! Though, I admit, I almost feel sorry for the kid for when we bring him more into play, especially since he “has a sensitive side that results in him crying at the drop of a hat.” Brilliant!

*Sigh.* I'm a bit low on inspiration here for some reason right now. The desire’s there (I've wanted to reply since your last post), but the words keep running away. They must be in the mood to play tag. I'll get an IC post up as soon as I can catch them, or they get bored enough to call it quits.

MONSTORY

“You don’t…” Izzy returned Holden’s confusion with her own. She sighed when it dawned on her that her sight would be a bit better than common human standards at the moment. “Oh. Right. Never mind.” She looked back to the boy. “I’ll be back. Going to make sure everything’s okay.”
She stood and walked toward the head of the concrete trail, her rear glad to be free of the chilled bench. With her hands in her pockets to keep them hidden from autumn’s chill, she glanced beyond the child, again searching for any sign of parents coming a bit late as she neared.
“Hello,” she greeted a bit uncertainly as she stopped near him. She glanced between his piece of paper and the neighborhood’s directory. “Are you lost…” she leaned to the side, making a show of looking at the name tag on his backpack so he would know how she knew his name, “Michael?”