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The Time We Are Given-Ch.9
Tarienne ate as though she had not eaten in a year. She could find no fault with the Mirkwood chef's incredible rendition of the Lorien food she had inadvertently described, although she sure did try. Even the most subtle of spices, the tastes of which are designed to be detected after the meal has been finished, were present in just the right amounts.
Zakrid ate, drank and told stories of his people in the Iron Mountains, Ishariel shared her adventures with her animals, and Asimendir and Tarienne ate in silence. The elf sire would occasionally look over at the entertainment currently on stage, but for the most part he kept his own counsel, glancing at Tarienne every now and then without seeming to stare overmuch.
A large bearded man appeared and sat down with Gethelwyn and Gil'Darrin, and it appalled Tarienne that a stranger would have the gall to do that until it became evident that he was known to them. Gil looke
The Time We Are Given-Ch.8
It was twilight when the elf maidens finally realized their stomachs were grumbling and their bodies were tired.
Tarienne had mentally memorized the confusing town, learning the ways in and the ways out, and trying to make sense of all the twisted alleys and passageways . It was imperative to her to know them to avoid accidentally finding herself in them.
Ishariel had found an out of the way bookshop on the second floor of a home, filled with scrolls and tomes, and the shopkeeper had taken an instant liking to the young lore mistress. Tarienne welcomed the chance to sit down while her heart-sister talked and shopped, and found an out of the way corner near a window where she could observe the comings and goings below.
She watched as a young red haired girl ran past laughing, chased by a blonde long haired elf. The girl waved something in the air to goad him on and ran off again when he got close.
An elf with jet
a dangerous hallucinationThe light coming through the window was bright,
much too bright.
Even though my eyes were closed
I could see it-
The skin of my arms prickled,
sweat dripped from my brow.
It was two in the afternoon but…
the sun was setting
through the window facing east.
I should have seen the hutch,
shelves lined with bone china
decorated with delicate leaves and vines.
I was so thirsty
and reaching for cups that should have been there.
Instead I found a billboard of butterflies,
the colors raging
more than any rainbow
I'd ever seen.
Their wings fluttered and flashed
yet somehow they moved in slow motion.
I wanted to stand,
wanted to reach out and touch them but…
I couldn't move,
and yet I laughed
ignoring my dry mouth
and the tingling in my feet.
There was a tempest
on the rise
and in my blood.
A sugar rush disguised
as a riot of butterflies
and they were swarming me.
There was a small vial
of insulin in my pocket
that I nev
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