Igraine

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

You are positively adorable Crabby, and of course you'll be missed! But however that may be, you have a fantastic weekend hon! *waves*

I am positively at a loss for the subtle differences between a graphic novel, a visual novel, and a motion comic, but don't be bothered for any further clarification - I probably won't follow anyway.

All the lovely, wonderful posts - and more to look forward to as well! This is my study distraction, so thank you all!

And only one last note: Unlit, your new avatar? You have my wholehearted, unequivocal approval, ginormous thumbs up, for however little or much that may count.

Loki's Laugh

No one feels like being all happy-happy socializing with a head cold, you poor thing. Just take care of yourself, and we'll catch up with you when you're feeling more yourself.

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

I'm not even going to pretend like I'd taste the difference in coffees at this point. Very dark, lots of caffeine and I'll be happy, if you would please Heroes? Though I'm certainly all about the falling into a bowl of granola too. Yum! The flavor of brown sugar has got to be one of my favorites, so anything containing brown sugar is automatically inviting (and the fact that our Lillian cooked it? Oh, even more so!)

I haven't looked yet Hellis, but have you started your art thread again? Just wondering, because you do make some lovely pieces!

Oh, and it is fun Andastra, to have just a little tension there? The first time around, Hellis' and tirgesfu's characters (Henry and Max) had this wonderful snipe/hate relationship, and you just knew by the end (had Max not died, had we been able to keep going) there was either going to be bloodshed or bromance.

And good grief, Lil and Dot! XD I can almost see Veti in my mind's eye, big eyes wide with surprise, shoulders shrugging and hands upraised helplessly going, "Uh... So no kumbayah I guess?"

Loki's Laugh

I hate to double post, but how are you doing Idle? Is everything going all right, are you at least able to semi-enjoy your vacation hon?

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

DotCom said
EDIT: Beautiful post as per usual, love. You're going to force Daisy into being friendly. Ish. To Veti. And maybe Henry.

Is it going to hurt? A little? *big evil grin*

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

Even when it's in the same language your character muttered under her breath only moments before, before super-hawt pharoah types comforted all the necromancer's hurt feelings? And it is, after all - unless I'm terribly mistaken? Icelandic is as close to ancient Norse as any living language (and Veti speaks that language) - and that's what I do believe you used last Andastra?

Oh, and she's an eight-foot tall quadrupedal/bipedal werewolf, not a dog! All I can think of now, is Clifford the Big Red Dog! hehehe

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

omg, I have no idea why, but that .gif made me think of

dignity is for the weak

Like, all self-respect tossed to the winds (rather like being crushed under the weight of an orca as I lift my arms up to free it! D: )

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

There were a hundred different reasons Veti wanted to wrap her arms around the Reaper and hug her to her so tightly at that moment. She knew Daisy had judged Siya, and found her wanting - even if the werewolf understood intuitively that judgment wasn't entirely fair. Veti knew Daisy was defensively sniping off at the self-proclaimed necromancer too, but she really couldn't help she found it just a little funny - because "catty-Daisy" was actually just "naturally-amusing-Daisy" to the werewolf. Veti loved Daisy's surety. Her courage. Her stubborn determination.

And besides, the werewolf wasn't entirely sure how in the hell anyone could choose Captain Shang over Flynn Rider, but when they got back she'd arrange a damn Disney marathon and show her the error of her ways. It'd be a pleasure.

It didn't really dawn on Veti, the fact she was already thinking such a time even possible somehow made her brighter, that smile far wider and easier and true. "Of course you are Daisy. Never doubted that for a minute," the werewolf whispered in Daisy's ear, giving in to that sudden urge, wrapping one strong, muscular, leather-clad arm around the Reaper's shoulders, pulling her close and kissing the top of her candy pink head with a grin.

Oh, she'd heard Atticus' words about the Lupus Naturae just fine, felt a twinge of ache from all the old hurts, all the old sleights and the rounding rejection of her own kind that had weighed so heavy on her thoughts all the years since she'd been turned. And her heart howled in fury, that anyone would dare - dare - so much as think to raise a hand [claw, talon, tentacle, whatever... ] against Reginald Hoyle. He'd confided in her, the sad tale of what had happened to his clan, the Teachglach Mac Tíre. But she would join him, the only other wolf she'd ever call packmate, or even friend, very, very soon.

There was a goddess waiting on them at the moment though, and Veti had absolutely no idea if Isis was going to toss them some wings of their own, or just *fwoosh* them away in a whirlwind, or just instantly pop them near whatever might remain of that legendary Library - but one thing she did know? This sure the hell wasn't a shade-gate, and that was really all the encouragement to a bit of adventure she needed.

"Race you to the goddess. If I beat you, it's 'Tangled' first when we get back. You - or even Artie? Fine, 'Mulan' it is... " Veti whispered, all the old reservations she'd ever had about the gift Max had given her shed in an instant of pure joy, buoyed by hope. As Atticus opened the wind-tunnel portal to their boss, she turned to catch Siya's eyes, giving her dear friend a wink, and then blew her a kiss.

And then Veti cut her loose, the wolf inside. The lengths of crimson hair wrapped about her face, her neck, into a thick, muscular ruff. If she stood to her full height on her back claws, the werewolf would have easily cleared eight feet in height. Covered from the tip of her long, black-lipped, ivory fang-filled maw to end of her magnificent tail in fur the color of blood, the smile she gave the Reaper now would have sent even the sturdiest human to wetting himself.

But Daisy was made of far sterner stuff - whatever the hell that might actually be - and the wolf dropped to all fours, the wickedly curved, ebony tipped claws digging into the ancient, hallowed lands that her kind roamed centuries ago. Glowing amber eyes lit with amusement, almost as an afterthought, her gaze turned toward the necromancer. The werewolf's voice was low, thick and rumbling growl through those impossibly long teeth. "Ekki vera svo ljótan, lítill álfur. Láta forn kóngafólk án skilningi landamæri sefa meiða tilfinningar þínar. Hann er frekar sætur, þú veist ... "*

And with that she bolted for Isis, determined to - at the very least - outrun the hellhound, the tip of her lustrous, long tail brushing his snout like a naughty child's taunt. Past the golem and the demonspawn, dear Nestor whose very presence endlessly reassured her all was well - even if his demoness was feeling a touch premenstrual. Past the Rusalka and the unspeakably good-looking pharoah-type, toward the Russian wight already joining the outstretched wings of a goddess.

(( *Do not be so grim, little elf. Let the ancient royalty with no sense of boundaries soothe your hurt feelings. He is rather cute, you know... ))

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

*lifts Dot up to the sky in two open hands, and tosses her to the skies* BE FREE!!!

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

Sorry so quiet, but for the past 72 - 96 hours dealing with a veritable wall of sh*t that I never saw coming, and has kind of mind-screwed me pretty well. I'll try to have a post up at some point this evening, though early or late I couldn't begin say.

Though never fear, it had nothing to do with Dot and her precious, fickle, wayward ways. Of course I was right hon - I'm always right, in case you ever wondered - though I should warn you Fatesy/Unlit/whatever you'd like to go by: do not squeeze our Dot too close, or try to clutch her in your hand too tightly. She will only slip between your fingers. She may sing her song for you at the moment, but that beautiful bird will fly as she will...