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Taste of Nobility : Taste of Nobility... ::Taste of Nobility by ~x-Rai
Type: detail practice
Character(s): Rowan [deer]
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It was a windy day. Above average in fact, and Rowan had strayed out into the flurry. She stood still for a moment, and gazed up to the tops of the birch trees. The wrath of nature pulled and combed them in great waves. An ocean of green above her, rolling with leaf-plagued tides. It was almost like a symphony, the great howling roar of air, and the trees danced accordingly.
But watching the tree tops and musing on them was not her mission. She in fact had no mission, yet to wander like the family of nomads from whence she came. Her little hoofprints left depr
Hearts :: Hearts... ::Hearts by ~x-Rai
Type: hopeful-writing practice
Character(s): Rowan [human]
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She was standing in a river. The water was swirling around her toes...It was cold and...it tickled. Wait, what? Rowan, hair bent in various bedhead positions, sat up from her bed in a hurry and knocked Ford into the floor.
"Ahh--! I'm sorry! I mean," her voice grew stern, "Ford, don't lick my toes!"
Ford stared up at her and thumped his bushy tail against the floor. Silly collie. Rowan grinned at him, and tossed her legs over the bedside to join him on the floor. She sat indian-style and gave the ranch-style room a long look-over. "We're back in the city, For
Run Run Run :: Run, run, run, as fast as you can... ::Run Run Run by ~x-Rai
There's an outbreak of evil, vile, plagued deer out there.
A new fad? Blood is the new black.
You better watch your back.
The scales of realism have tipped, tapped, turned...
You best rethink what you've learned.
There's a mass-murderer lurking on your doorstep.
Yes, yours. Mine, his, hers!
Oh, fads...
Mothers Cast Shadows :: Mothers Cast Shadows... ::Mothers Cast Shadows by ~x-Rai
Type: practice writing from another's perspective
Main Character(s): Rowan
Side Character(s): Darcy, Virgil, Baal, Ephra, Lemon [may be more later]
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"You have not known me, O traveler, but I pray you listen to the tales and misfortunes that befell a most curious old she-deer. Such a tale comes smooth and strong from oil-black lips, flicked away by tremendous ears. Once more however, ye olde stags with tines that thorn the heavens, and ye hinds with withered visage, come hither, and I pray you listen. This tale of a most curious old she-deer is not to be repeated, it will escape the lips of a nomad as the
Sta.sh
Cato talks in third person all over the place and plasters her name wherever it's convenient
