Briza

Sticks: A Blorbish Game

:::Climb a tree happily

Word association Game!

Creation

Title must be 3 - 150 chars long

Title must be 3 - 150 chars long

Current Mood in One Gif

>Tmw the collaborative writing brainstorming process helps during a business meeting

𝓣ℎ𝑒 𝓕𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑠 𝑜𝒻 𝓐𝑙𝑦𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑎 & 𝓕𝑖𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑛, 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡.

. ❖ .

^{_{And So Ends the First Dilemma of Lady Alyssana Grey}}

𝓣ℎ𝑒 𝓕𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑠 𝑜𝒻 𝓐𝑙𝑦𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑎 & 𝓕𝑖𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑛, 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡.

^{_{The First Dilemma of Lady Alyssana Grey}}

^{Part III}

“𝓘 would beg to kiss the top of your hand right now, my dear Lady Alyssana,” his head lowered in a shameful manner, now with his eyes searching the wooden flooring for the script that he was supposed to read to make all of his wrongdoings better. He had been quite dreaful and awful to the other women — and most of all, to his sudden drugged horror, to Lady Alyssana. She had watched him pompously flounce around with other women and not even take any respect of her own delights or disdain for his behavior.

“You over estimate me,” his eyes glanced up at her, in an act of pity that was then taken by her beauty, he dare not look away, even with the sudden shuffle of Walter's feet, uncomfortable in his own shoes as he bore witness to the scene playing in front of him.

The younger man wished it to stop immediately, but no matter how hard he wished, it never came true. It was times like these that he would feel feverish, and with that, he made a small motion to sit in the long legged chair by the table, as he collapsed his head, “Do not mind me...” he managed in a displeased wisp of a voice.

And, Finnegan obeyed the man's command by ignoring him and his brown curly hair propped in the folded sleeves of his jacket.

“How could I have been so thoughtless, so cruel...?” He drew in several breaths, trying to remain in his balanced position lest he end up as good as his younger, less intoxicated (or so the reader has been lead to believe this far) younger brother, “I cannot bare to think that I have done this to you, to us...” His body lowered onto one knee, reaching out for Lady Alyssana's hand pleadingly. There was a tearfulness in his eyes with flushed cheeks of something yearning to be honest.

“I see you so differently, Alyssa. You are above the rest. How dare I, Lord Finnegan Oaks, get anywhere near a lady of such beautiful caliber? You are something so much more precious, rare, and to think the conquest — no, the honor of having danced with you in the library for the first time,” he was trying pathetically to read the emotionless expression on her face with his own eyes, bashful with memories, “Shall any woman be good enough to fair against you? How many of them shall I date to only realize that all the women in the world could not come close to the beauties of Lady Alyssana.”

His words were meant to be articulate, but alas, they slurred awkwardly. The poor man was on one knee, pleading in a voice that was less than gentlemanly as a listless woman stood before him, unforgiving. He could feel his heart breaking in two, and yet still, he had hope. The poor man still had hope. “Words are escaping me, Alyssa. My dear, dear Alyssa. Please, I beg your forgiveness.”

And Walter let out a small moan from the corner of the Satyr legged table.

𝓣ℎ𝑒 𝓕𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑠 𝑜𝒻 𝓐𝑙𝑦𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑎 & 𝓕𝑖𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑛, 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡.

^{_{The First Dilemma of Lady Alyssana Grey}}

^{Part III}

“𝓝o, no...” Finnegan shook his head, “No, shhh. You, no you...” There was determination in him to speak this more eloquently than the gibberish that had caught his voice beforehand. His head shook once more as a hand was, against raised with a finger extended, wagging at her. She was not going to lecture him as she knew to do at the Institute. Now was not the time for such things. He had something more important to implore. There was never a better time for him to explain to Lady Alyssana his feelings. This he knew (as the reader has already understood of him) for moments too many, “You know too little, Alyssa.” His shoulders relaxed and dropped as he looked at her longingly.

Again, he was caught trying to fish for the proper words to tell her. She was standing right there in front of him, giving him her full attention. Nothing he was saying was getting through to her.

The basics. Start with the basics.

What was the question, again?

His hand lowered, “I love you, Alyssana, no... Wait.” He shook his head, yet, again, “Allow me to start over.” He cleared his throat to the best of his ability, denying anything could possibly have altered his thinking, “I have an immunity to my own potions. Why would I not? I have a nose sharper than any dogs, and I dare say that if I were to not have a tolerance, I would be intoxicated all the time... Like,” his head turned to Walter momentarily (who had taken only a breath or two during this conversation) but quickly turned back to Lady Alyssana, “Do you understand?”

He pressed his feelings together the best he could, hoping she would understand him. He had so much more he wanted to tell her, but as a rule of thumb:

Let the lady respond, first...

𝓣ℎ𝑒 𝓕𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑠 𝑜𝒻 𝓐𝑙𝑦𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑎 & 𝓕𝑖𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑛, 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡.

^{_{The First Dilemma of Lady Alyssana Grey}}

^{Part III}

𝓦alter sighed with relief, “If you think that will help...” He was not about to knock his brother out, but the offer was still standing as some sort of show. He hated to lie like that, but he so desperately wanted neither of the two to be so... And, he knew so much about his brother's truest intentions. There were things he'd rather not hear his brother say. Then again, if Lady Alyssana wanted to go through with it.

Secretly, he held his breath for several moments.

“Understand?” Finnegan stared at Lady Alyssana with whimsical eyes that slowly wandered as he tried to catch his words to match her gentle tone, “I... I am desperately in love with you.” He paused with teeth brushing over his tongue as he tried to quiet himself to better express what he was saying, except a sleepiness fell over him. He would not allow it, though. He wanted to keep this conversation going, now that he finally had her attention, “D-desperately. D-did I say desperately? No, I meant madly. Or s-something.”