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Falling Feathers Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven: The First
Hace scratched his head and looked at Crovix sitting on the floor beside him, noticing she appeared extremely calm and centered and he felt like he could do the same. The class was very quiet, everyone wearing a relatively nice outfit and sitting on hard mats that covered the floor. Tsubaki stood in the middle of the room waiting for everyone to get situated before she began the lesson. Hace felt anxious and enthusiastic even though he had no idea what was about to happen, but perhaps this exaggerated his excitement.
He often thrived on the thought of upcoming events rather than fear it and looked forward to anything new, so this was like an adrenaline rush for him. When placed in a situation where he did not understand what was happening he became impulsive and afraid, and if he was confident in his abilities this only made him more proud, but it was in expectation of the new that he could be found in his best moods.
Hace smiled and strai
Falling Feathers Chapter 10
Chapter ten: The Charm
Crovix blinked hard and yawned while trying to focus on the blackboard a few rows in front of her, at which Tsubaki was jotting down some information that would definitely be important to the soul resonation in a few days, but she found that her mind could not stay in one place. It drifted unanchored through time, slowly chipping away at the clock until there were few more than thirty minutes left of class and she still hadn't copied anything down. Crovix rolled the pencil in her hands back and forth between her fingers as it clacked against the rings on her middle fingers, until she lost her grip on it and it slid from between her hands and onto the floor.
Crovix leaned down and picked it up, but had to stifle a gasp as she sat back up and found someone was sitting next to her.
"Hi," Hace smiled happily.
"W-what are you doing here?!" she whispered sternly.
"I came to see you," he replied, "And just for the record this class is really dry
Falling Feathers Chapter 9
Chapter Nine: Mother
A woman in her late thirties cracked her knuckles and stretched her arms over her head as a large toothy grin spread across her face, her elongated canine tooth exposed as she smiled. Her bright green eyes were focused, yet smiling and her hair was a dark blue purple color and tied back into ponytail. Her face was thin with high cheekbones and a scar across her right cheek as if she'd been burned. She was built much like a mother would have been, with a strong middle and wide hips. She was wearing a purple dress with sleeves and no shoulders that dipped low enough to see the top of an X shaped scar on her chest. The dress was overtop of black pants and boots, and tied with a golden color rope around her waist that matched the one in her hair.
The woman yawned loudly and leaned forward to turn the duck roasting on a spit in front of her as she sat in a small clearing in the woods where the fog was a little less heavy. She smiled eagerly and watch
Poetic PsychosisIn thirty seconds, the next shell would fall. Every night was the same, but every night Lorenzo experienced it as if it were the first time. His throat felt swollen; breathing was hard. He glanced around at the others; young men like him who had been shipped out in the name of honour and freedom. There was no honour in this, no freedom. Only death behind your eyelids, and a fear so gutting, that it carved out your innards and left you a hollow husk. Lorenzo tried to breathe, tried to assure himself that he was still whole, still made of flesh. They had lied when they told him he was ready.
Matteo ran towards him, arms out, rifle swinging uselessly at his side. He shouted for him to run, but Lorenzo remained motionless, unable to move as his friend’s warning was lost in the constant blare of gunfire. None of them were ready.
“The cycle is repeating. It is not safe.” The voice was soft and weak, yet it carried over the gunfire and battle cries without impediment.
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