Storythread

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In the tavern was a single weary man, his tunic worn from age and use and his hood covering his face. He kept himself in a little corner, away from all windows as he downed yet another tankard. In between long gulps, he glanced nervously at the crowds present. Intermittently, he muttered things. A woman who can't find him here, a need to leave soon, and the need for another drink were chief among his comments. Some of the other patrons expressed their concerns that such a shady individual was hiding here. Perhaps he was a criminal of some repute.

Before any lawmen could be summoned though, the man immediately gets up. He drops a rather large bag of coin on the table, bewildering everyone in the establishment. Nobody had the chance to even ask him where he got the money before he was gone.

This was just another day of an alarming set of them that he spent running as far away as he could. Already, he had been doing this for a month, and still he felt no closer to his goal than he did before. The shady man had to keep walking, always getting as far away as he could. He looked behind him to see if he was being followed - he swore he noticed something out in the distance that was closing in on him. His pace picked up a little more. He thought he heard stomping. His pace got a little quicker. Before long, he started running. The figure in the distance wasn't going away, and he swore that he was hearing something closing in. As he ran, he kept looking behind him still, and nothing changed.

His efforts to flee, though, were fruitless.

For all his running, he never seemed to pay attention to what was in front of him. Once he ran into something, he was trapped by two very well-toned muscular arms. Arms fit for a man that lifted him off the ground.

"Oh, sweet dearling-pie! I've been looking all over for you!" It was too late. He had been captured. Somehow, that crazy amazon that was infatuated with the man had found a way to corner him, and now she had him in a bearhug.

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"I was so scared when I saw you missing, but the power of my love is stronger than even I am!" All of her girlish squealing was rather jarring for a massive amazon several heads taller than the normal person.

None of this mattered to the hapless man though. He tried his hardest to wriggle his way out of the amazon death-grip, but as she gripped tighter all he could feel was his back breaking. "Sigrune...!" He protested, his legs now flailing pitifully. "Sigrune...stop...! Back...!"

"Oh, anything for you, dearest!" The man collapsed to the floor in a heap, gasping for air while she looked on."Oh, are you tired? Silly dear, you need to work out more! How about I help you?"

There was a gasp resembling a "No" from the poor fool. As he willed himself up, arm clutching his shattered ribs, he continued, "That...is not...training...! That's a deathwish!"

Sigrune chuckled. "Silly love! You have to be strong like me if you want to mate! We are to be bound forever after all!" For all her laughter, the poor man merely laid there on the floor, beaten and now suffocated by this massive woman.

He had no idea how she managed to get entranced with a guy like him. He wasn't even supposed to be part of the expedition to the tundra keeps the amazons lived in. As was evident in his garb, this man was a thief by trade, and had snuck onto the proper expedition in order to steal some rumored valuables from the amazons whilst they were distracted by the delegation. With all the important folk distracted, the way to untold exotic riches was clear for him to exploit...or so the plan was meant to go before he nearly fell off a ledge and into a bottomless chasm, only to be rescued by Sigrune when she found him there. For some reason, he wasn't executed or imprisoned or even reported. Instead, Sigrune asked if he would be her mate with such force that it made the poor would-be thief unable to refuse without shaming himself as a self-proclaimed ladykiller.

Bump

All the same though, the thief had no intention of staying prisoner to the amazons and risk falling victim to a much worse fate than being some brutish woman's mate. He had thought that he was crafty by waking up in the middle of the night and then fleeing on boat for home, but as he was rowing his way out, he noticed Sigrune jumping straight into the frigid and choppy waters to chase after her prey. All the desperate man could do was row and run as fast as he could, hoping it would be enough to outrun her.

Now the thief was stuck in this trap with this giant of a woman. He was helpless to resist as she hauled him over her broad shoulder and began carrying him away. He had thought it was just going to be brought back to be presented to the amazon chieftains or whatever, but instead they arrived at a small shack.

"What do you want with me, you insane broad...?"

"Eh? But...you said you would be my forever-love mate," answered Sigrune. "You promised that we would never be apart."

The thief protested, "Did it have to be so literal?"

"Lit-uh-rull?" The word made no sense to her. "But...the chieftains, they said that when men come to our island, it was only to be our mates forever and ever."

"Wait, what?" The mention shocked him. "You mean all those men on the ship...?"

"Yes. They were betrothed to the strongest and wisest of our tribe, so as to give us more sisters to live alongside. Perhaps even now, they're caring for the babies!" Despite the innocent way she mentioned all this, the thief's face could only display terror. Those men who went to the tundras never went back home. Even he had just walked into that trap, and even now he wondered if he actually escaped with his life.

"For life." That was the only clarification he could ask.

"For life! And even after that! Our priestesses say that our mate-bond lasts even beyond death!" Her statement came with a smile on her face. "And...Oh, shoot! How will we have ceremony? I am no ordained priestess!"

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To the guy who makes the Chris Orksen stories, hope you see this. Looks like one of those rare cases where mister Orksen loses.

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are you a wholesome though?

He added in, "But wait!" She paused. "Your priestesses, they say this is something to last forever, right?" Another nod of assent. "And...you're going to spend it with me? A man you just rescued despite intruding on your land. With the intent to rob from said land."

"Does it matter?" The answer took the thief back some. "From the first moment I saw you gripping for your life, the first time I saw your rough face with eyes burning with the desire to live, I knew that you had to be the one."

"Are you crazy?"

"But...nobody ever comes see me." Now it made the thief feel awkward. "I'm not a Chieftain. I don't get to choose a mate."

The thief darkly chuckled. "I can see why."

It was at this point that Sigrune's mood shifted from childishly innocent to mad. "Why you always say things like that? Always saying bad things like 'it impossible' or 'why you all over me'! Nonsense!" Using her behemoth strength, she grabbed the depressive man and threw him on the bed. "I have been in love with you since the beginning! I do not care if you not perfect or if you were bad! Is that not enough?"

The sight of an upset amazon was enough to unsettle any man, and despite insisting otherwise, he was just a man. "To be honest...it is. You've been following me nonstop since you found me, obsessed with this fantasy that you have no idea why you even follow it! Have you nobody better to follow?"

A slam on the bed. "No! None of these other men are like you! None of these other men have that same fire like your eyes do!"

"Even for a criminal?"

"I saw all sorts of men in your land. Good men, bad men, men with nice clothes, none of them were anything like you! None of them could ever replace you in my heart! I don't care if you weren't supposed to visit my home or if you planned to steal something. You already stole my heart the moment I met you..."

Such a bold confession was absolutely going to have an effect on such a thief. His face was now flushed with embarrassment.

So bit of a writing question. I usually don't struggle with poetry but I seem to have a struggle this morning. I need this as a clue to indicate that the race of thieves is not won by being fastest, because the obvious solution is to smash and grab running out first but it's not the best and the winner is almost never ever the one who does that. I realize it's likely the players will probably fucking do this anyway and I'm OK with that, I just want to have had a not-entirely critic warning out beforehand.

>legends tell of hasty thieves
>quicksilver in, quickness out,
>laying quickly hands about
>those who do they fastest leave
>but less than fellows they achieve

not really supposed to be a limerick and I'm worried it's gone a little over to the flaming homosexual faggotry side.

thoughts?

not cleaned up and the last line wrapped before I noticed but this is the eventual idea

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"Seriously..." he muttered under his breath. "Your taste in men really sucks.."

"No." Sigrune closes the distance between them, now pressing upon him with everything. "I see someone good in here, strong with the desire to survive no matter the odds. "You are a man who does not need money or a name to do anything. You chose to come, you chose to leave even when nobody else did like you did."

"But...I thought you couldn't choose?"

"I choose now. Maybe matriarchs won't approve. Maybe someone try to steal you away. I will not let that happen! You are my love!"

Another defeated sigh escaped the thief. "Can't seem to win against you, can I?"

"You accept?"

"I...don't really know much about you." The way he tried to avert his gaze made the amazon giggle slightly. "Stop that."

"That fine! I want to learn more about you too, dearling!"

"Then... It's probably too late, but I haven't told you my name. It's Hadrian." Before he could go any further, Sigrune backed up a bit and grabbed the thief Hadrian's collar and pulled him even closer to her heart. "S-Sigrune?"

"Then I, Sigrune daughter of Reingunde, swear to you, Hadrian, that I will stay by your side, to be together with you. I am your partner now and forever, fighting alongside you no matter the odds." For a moment, it sounded like Sigrune had more to say, but nothing was properly coming out. After a few seconds, she merely settled with, "I sorry, dear Hadrian. I forget full words of Oath."

"You don't need an oath," Hadrian comforted her, still basking in the hugeness. "I'm...willing to give you a shot now. Please, just...just don't break me."

"I promise! Whatever I do, it will be to make you stronger so you never break!" The thief groaned in fear. He was still going to have to train with this brutish woman and her extreme exercises.

And yet, perhaps...
He gripped her a bit tighter. She was strong, she didn't have all these hangups about money or fame, and she liked him for some strange reason.

Sure he had hopes of something much more: a woman on each arm, riches untold, maybe even an entire castle to call his own. He had plans to sell the treasures he planned to loot from the Amazons to become filthy rich, maybe even famous for getting these treasures to society.

All Hadrian stole was one thing: Sigrune's affections. It was valuable enough to satisfy him for the time being.

"Hey," He whispered. "I want to learn how to like you more. Until I can like you as much as you like me."
Sigrune swooned instantly, as if she were waiting all this time to hear those words. "Oh, I love you too! And I'll make sure you love me just as much, Hadrian-love!"

The night promised to be painfully long, but at least now there was hope for a future that would see the two unmatched partners happier.

"The Weather's getting a bit chilly don't you think?"

For many years his voice would catch Essie off guard. She was older now, and used to it, such that her eyes did not waver from the firmament of stars above her.

"Is my guardian angel going to start protecting me from the cold now?" Her tone implied a smile.

"Perhaps someday." His voice always sounded as if it were coming from every direction.

She inhaled the cold air. It felt good, like drinking water.

They stood for a moment, and then he spoke again.

"To be honest, I'm here to ask you a question Essie."

At this, she turned to face the angel. She always found his stereotypical halo and adorable, doll-like wings amusing.

"How can I help you?"

He tilted his head ever so slightly. "What are you looking for up there?"

She looked up again. She had moved to the remote plains, far from family and friends, for this view. What was she looking for?

"God I guess."

Her angel was always smiling, but at this, his smile imperceptibly widened.

"Which one do you think is him?"

Essie wasn't sure. She also wasn't sure which "him" the angel was referring to.

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Mangekyou Sharingan?

The last two lines seem murky even for obtuse poetry

>legends tell of hasty thieves
>quicksilver in, quickness out,
>laying quickly hands about
>But those who focus on speed
>Will not sate their greed

Alternatively:

>those who do, they fastest leave
>but less than their fellows achieve

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pastebin.com/BtzcSZXa

so I finished a story

I imagine those two being friends who see each other a few times during the hunting season.

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I will read this in the morning

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>A quiet corner shop, inconspicuous to most, hosts an underground ring of peasant slave children. Being sold to these thugs for meager Mark, most are crippled, some are sick, all will not be missed by their hungry families.
>A brutish man walks down and orders a small drink, two thugs bring out the next show, dressed in basic undergarments the girl is no more than 12, limbless, by birth or accident, she is tied to a nearby pole as snarling scoundrels laugh and guffaw.
>The man flags the bartender and asks to see the owner of the establishment, a scrawny man of mid 40's, old for his kind of people.

How much does the girl cost?
More than you can afford, poctal.
More than the Baron of Kruger?
The Baron of Kruger sending a poctal to buy him peasant children in this den? Truly the war took the brightest from our noble lords.
Ay, true as that may be, the Baron is paying to hunt Aeven off his lands up ways.
Aw, so you're buying bait then?
Unfortunately.
Well, for a man of your station and employer, she's yours for a hundred-fifty Marks.
A hundred, no more, she's going to be bait, not entertainment.
You drive a hard bargain wanderer, but she's yours if you don't mention my fine establishment to the Baron.
Deal.

What's your advice on what to start with in a story? How important should the first chapter be in setting the tone and themes and such?

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Start in the action. Have shit happening right out the gates. Slow burns are overrated.

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bumop

I don't think there are any hard and fast rules. It depends entirely on what sort of story you're writing.

The one thing I would say is that if you're writing a story set in a fantasy world, get exposition out of the way early. It may not be quite as elegant, but there's nothing more annoying than authors who reference terms and places that they only provide context for in bits and pieces ten chapters later.

Obviously this doesn't apply to /every/ term, otherwise the first couple of chapters would just be the setting's backstory. Just work out which bits are critical to understanding the story, get them out of the way first, and fill in the minor details as you go along.

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It’d been a long time since I’d felt this terrible. Every muscle in my body ached with a sort of "dull soreness," while the bruises on my arms and stomach intermittently cried out in flashes of heat. My arm, foot, at least four of my ribs, and who knows what else were broken. While I wanted nothing more than to dream forever, the room was far too bright for me to continue sleeping. Eventually I gingerly pulled my head out from under the soft sheets and forced my heavy eyelids open, bringing a hand up to shield them from the light.

I sat up, blinking while my eyes adjusted to the room. A familiar halfling sat by the foot of my bed, the silver hairs on her head glowing in the light of the setting sun. Her green eyes moved back and forth across the pages in her hands, and it took me longer than I’d like to admit to recognize what she was holding. She’d been thumbing through my journals, despite being unable to read them.

“Good morning,” I spoke, or at least tried to. My voice was hoarse and my throat dry, so I began looking around the room for some water. My canteen was resting on the nightstand next to my bed. I slowly reached to grab it.

“It’s already past noon, you know. Actually, it’ll be night soon.” She replied, tossing the journal my way. “You should stop writing in code. Makes it seem like you’re trying to hide something.” She continued as the book hit my chest. I winced and dropped my canteen, spilling water all over my bed. I swore in Yeldgram.

“Was that on fucking purpose?” I asked her, switching back to Plainspeak. I bent forward to pick up the canteen, gritting my teeth from the pain.

“I was aiming for your face, but hitting your ribs works too.”

"Well, thanks." I mumbled, taking a swig of water. "How long was I out? I feel like it's been months."

"Only since last night. They brought your unconscious ass back here after the raid. Your party was worried sick about you. You're still a fucking idiot, Bags.” (1/6)

I didn’t reply. Jade was right. I barely remembered anything about yesterday, but I vaguely recalled getting into a duel against a gods-damned Scarskin Titan. Who was wearing full plate, while I only had daggers and knives.

"Gods, Bags. Barely three days ago you promised to keep the girls in your party safe, and then you nearly throw your life away pulling another one of your insane stunts. What in the wastes would they have done if you died? You've never once thought about how the rest of us would react if your deathwish came true." She moved to sit by my side on the bed.

"I'm still here, Jade. You know how hard it is to get rid of me." I said, forcing a smile. "I'll keep my promise. I always do." She punched my shoulder.

"I'm going to hold you to it, then." She sighed. "I guess your injuries are punishment enough. And things worked out pretty well, at least. Those kids found honest-to-stars ancient treasure thanks to you. I mean, shit, it hasn't been ten days since they started the job and you go and find them some fucking golden age ruins, basically right in my back yard."

I blinked, or rather, my eyelids twitched. "What?" With a laugh, she fell back to lie on me, her head resting on my lap. I let out a pained grunt.

"You really don't remember what happened?" I shook my head.

"I remember that we began the raid just as the moon rose, and that a Scarskin kicked the shit out of me."

"If only Crawley were up here. He's been telling that story all day. Guy's probably still telling it down in the pub right now."

I grimaced. "How badly did I fuck up that Crawley is telling a story about me, of all people?"

"Badly enough that it'll take you months to finish healing. Hope nobody attacks Dovran while you're there." I groaned.

"Fuck me."

"You're gonna need to find someone else, seeing as how I'm engaged and all. You were there, remember?"

Smiling, I gently ground my knuckles against her temples. "Just tell me what happened last night, Jade." (2/6)

“Well, according to Crawley, the raid on the toll house had gotten off to a good start. After a few brief skirmishes the ground floor had been cleared, but the guards were having trouble getting upstairs where most of the bandits were. Some of the guardsmen who were supposed to check the cellar were called to help, so it was just seven of you — you, your new party, Crawley, and two guards — who headed downstairs.

“The cellar’s staircase had long since crumbled away, so your group fastened a rope and climbed down. Below ground and without even a single ray of moonlight it was impossible to see, so as soon as he reached the floor one of the guards brought out a torch. Before it could be lit a bolt struck him in the shoulder, knocking him backwards and making him drop the torch. The bolt lodged itself into the wall, pinning him into place.

“You reacted fastest, picking up the dropped torch while Crawley rushed to the injured guard. With one fluid motion you managed to light the torch then toss it in the direction the bolt had been fired from. The pale light revealed five Scarskins — four Frights and one Titan. They were all clad in full sets of plate, their visors open to allow more light to reach their eyes, and their sickly green faces all curled into monstrous scowls.

“The Titan was larger than even a grown orc, and was using his strength to pull back a heavy crossbow’s drawstring. Before he could aim you threw two daggers at him, one slicing the drawstring and the other bouncing off his armor. He roared, dropping the crossbow as he and his human-sized companions prepared for battle.

“His roar and the sight of five enemies in full plate charging made the group freeze up. But apparently you once again snapped out of it the fastest, throwing another dagger at the Titan as you rushed forward. It also bounced uselessly off his armor, but still he snarled. (3/6)

“The Titan ran ahead of the smaller Frights, stopping in front of you. The other Scarskins just ignored you and ran past. By this time the group had recovered from their shock, but with the Frights standing in their way you were on your own.

“No one’s completely sure what happened in your fight, since they were too busy with their own opponents. It was dark, the Frights were good fighters, and they had good equipment. Everyone agreed that if they had such a hard time dealing with the smaller Frights, you had a much rougher time against the Titan. The injured guard said it looked like you two were fighting around some tarp on the floor, Crawley says you were able to evade each blow from the Titan’s warhammer, the other guard says your knives and daggers were completely ineffective, Vidt says he punched you hard enough to knock you into the air multiple times, Jannah says she saw you throw some liquid on him, and Alcance says it looked like you were losing the entire time.

"But they all remember how it ended: The Titan’s helmet burst into flame, illuminating the cellar with light bright enough to make everyone squint. The Titan's screams caused them to all freeze up once more, and in retaliation he tackled you, knocking you into a hole in the floor the tarp was covering up.

“The rest of the group soon finished their fight and tied up the Scarskins. The guards stayed behind in the cellar as the others descended into the hole you fell into. Turns out you used him to cushion your fall, but only barely. They thought you were dead until Crawley and Vidt managed to confirm your pulse. Then they looked around and realized you were in an old Aroson building.”

It took me a few minutes to digest all of that. Even then, I still didn’t really believe it. There was no way that was how things actually happened. Ancient ruins aside, I didn't believe I managed to react faster than Crawley and Vidt, or that I won the fight by myself. (4/6)

“You’re shitting me.”

“I wish. Things wouldn’t be so messy right now if it was all just a lie.” Jade sighed. “Apparently the bandits had just finished digging an entrance through the basement, dirt, and roof of the ancient Aroson estate a few hours before the raid. Fieldsport’s council are busy kicking themselves over not realizing how the maps lined up, and are busy planning an excavation. The city guards found out that apart from the three your party ran into, the rest of the ‘bandits’ hadn’t done anything to harm travelers. And news about this discovery is spreading really; it won’t be long before the elves stick their noses into our business, to say nothing of what the dwarves or orcs might do.”

“Things still don’t add up." I objected. "Why did they all have weapons, if they were just here for treasure? What were Scarskins doing in this part of the world[? How did they know this was all here?”

“One of the Frights decided to talk. He won’t say who hired them, but he says this was all part of some private contract. They weren’t doing anything illegal either, technically. There’s no precedent for this happening in Lyfelan, and it turns out there’s also no written laws regarding what happens when something like this is found.”

“Well, does that mean I at least get some sort of ‘finder’s fee’ for my work?” Jade stood up and pulled a small, ornate box from underneath my bed.

“No one saw any of the raid members make off with their loot. Not as if anyone’s going to report anyone else. You should’ve seen how much treasure everyone else brought back.”

“Well, thanks.” I mumbled, taking the box. Disappointingly, it felt even lighter than it looked.

“Hey, they did bring something back for you. It’s actually the thing you landed closest to, or so I heard.” I groaned. (5/6)

“You know, there’s so much I’d rather be doing right now instead of being bedridden. Especially after all that.”

“We’ll handle things with the city for you. Just get some rest for now, Bags.” Jade said with a small smile. “I’ll be back with some food and water.” She continued, closing the door behind her.

I sighed, lying back down on my bed. I guess it was lucky that no one else had to fight the Titan, but Vidt and Crawley would definitely have been in much better shape than me if they did. Then again, I’m not sure how well things would’ve gone if both Vidt and Crawley weren’t dealing with the Frights. Maybe things really did turn out for the best.

Lost in thought, I held the ornate box above my head and opened it. Millennia-old ashes fell upon me. I hacked and wheezed as a cloud of dust formed, all while trying to shove as much ash back into the box as possible. I am many things, but grave robber is something I never intend to be.

Having done my best to recover the ancient elf’s remains, I suddenly noticed a small silver locket on the bed. Frowning, I picked it up and wondered where it had come from. If it was from the urn then it surely should’ve been covered in ash.

I assumed Jade had left it behind, and I slowly flipped it open. One side held a mirror, and in the other was something engraved in what looked like elvan script. I frowned, realizing that this was also from the urn.

A few things came to mind as the message rearranged itself to read “The world pales in comparison to your beauty,” in Yeldgram.

I remembered the stories of how magic was lost when the gods decided to forsake us, and how the world was driven nearly to ruin in the ensuing Twilight War.

I remembered how sought after handful of remaining magical items are, and the wars waged for their control.

I remembered the first girl I ever loved, and how much my life had changed since her death.

JOURNAL END

P.S. Never stop writing in code. (6/6)

Your prose is very rich. Almost too rich, but unlike most people who write like that you seem to be able to hold it together; your vocabulary is dense and complex but rarely unnecessary. The only criticism I have of it is that if you were going to write a whole book like that the pacing would quickly drag.

Your setting is interesting, and it really benefits from your descriptive talents. Your characterisation is okay - not very deep here, but that wasn't the point of the piece.

Overall, very good work.

Good work user. You do good dialogue.

Bump

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Small people in a big person's world is so cute.

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bump

If you're just starting the story, keep your themes in mind, but don't stress them. If you need to, you can strengthen them in revision.

thanks it was meant to be an experimental piece, I had to tone down the descriptive language for obvious reasons and it was a hard balance of figuring out where to be descriptive and where to be more brief.

thanks for the advice user.

Any number of themes you could get out of people with money problems desperate enough to work dangerous jobs?

>Start in the action. Have shit happening right out the gates. Slow burns are overrated.
This is THE WORST ADVICE you can ever give on this subject. First of all it's just factually wrong, second of all it's the opposite of the useful answer.

>What's your advice on what to start with in a story?
There is no right or wrong way to start a story, because every story will require something different. There is a time-honored tradition that the first beginning of the story often serves as a mioptic of the whole thing and provides forshadowing or general representation of the things to come through out the whole story, but this is by no means a rule or a necessity.

You just really need to make it a bit clear for yourself what exactly are you writing about and why, and then just ask yourself: What would add or detract from the purpose of the tale.

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cute cockatiel

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Why the hell am I even here. Yeah, I guess it's a nice night for hitting the town, but I've got reports and projects out my ass. I seriously don't know what I was thinking when I signed up for all those seminars and labs.

I mean, I barely know any of these people. I don't even know why Red invited me along, anyway. I just sit behind her in our Alchemy seminar, and I don't think we've ever said anything more than just simple pleasantries to each other. Wait, fuck. I just realized that I keep calling her "Red" because I don't even know her damn name.

What's up with Miss Broody over there, anyway? She's just sitting on the steps. looking inland toward the mountains. I think Red mentioned once that her roommate's kinda aloof, is that her? And why's she still wearing the Defensive Magic safety robes?

Oh, now Mr. Koolaid Green over there's trying to stare me down. I think he caught me glancing over at Red's roommate. Isn't there a rumor that he fought an upperclassman in a Casting duel in the first week? Look, buddy, I'm not trying to start any trouble. She's all yours, if you can even get her to talk to you.

And, geez, where'd she meet Albino Vamp over there? He's looking at me kinda funny. I never really know how to deal with bloodsuckers like him; each and every one of them are eccentric in a different way. Guess this one's a musician-type. Pretty good at it, I guess - I don't think the two girls next to him even go to our school. Wait, is the one sitting next to him even legal?

I really should just leave. I don't fit in with this crowd at all. Maybe I'll stop by Baba's bookstore on my way back. The old crone's weird as they come, but damn does she get her hands on some interesting work. I wonder if that ancient manual on Grey Magic is still there

"C'mon, dummy! What're you just standing over there for? Get your butt over here, I'll introduce you to my friends!" Red said, flashing me a small smile.

Well, why not. This bunch could be fun.

People always ask me about my grandpa. About what it was like being raised by the premier expert on Grey Magic. I always give them the same spiel.

"He was kinda... weird. But I guess you have to be in order to revive a lost form of magic with only some shoddy, centuries-old notebooks as your guide. He didn't seem to have very many friends, or at least ones that visited our home. But he always seemed to really cherish the ones that did. I guess he was just like you and me, if a bit more prickly."

They'd all smile and nod, not realizing that I'd just given them a generic, prerehearsed answer full of half-truths. Grandpa was a huge fucking weirdo, and I barely knew him. The geezer almost always doing something on campus, or cooped up in his attic lab when he was at home. He often talked to himself, acting
like he was talking to mom, dad, or grandma. I'm not sure if it was dementia or because he never got over the accident.

I'll be honest, it always hurt to see him like that. I mean, it wasn't anyone's fault. Hell, he was the one who put up a barrier and saved the rest of us from the blast. But it always broke my heart seeing the guy talking to himself, somehow making the air take our family's shapes seemingly without using any magic.

I'm not even sure if he actually had any friends outside of the family. The Grand Mage and her husband would sometimes visit, and I think
some Nightsworn noble came by once or twice, but he didn't seem to get along super well with them. He probably knew them from work or something, seeing as they'd show up from time to time.

And I don't know why, but he'd always tell me, "Don't get involved with any redheads from alchemy class," whatever that means. I think it was an inside joke or something, but he'd always go off on one of his stories afterward. He'd tell me about some adventures he went on, about the times he saved the country, or about something dumb he got up to in college, when he was my age. And at the end he'd always say "Seriously, don't do it," with a chuckle. "They're a pain in the ass."

No matter what she was doing - brewing a potion, reading a book, teaching a class somewhere on the other side of the world - Grandma would usually toss a fireball at him whenever he said that. Probably didn't like him talking about an old flame. But she'd always do so while wearing a small smile, so I guess that was also part of the joke.

"Hey. Are you sleeping with your eyes open again, or are you still with me?" Gwen asked, snapping her fingers in front of my face. I shook myself awake.

"Sorry. What'd you say? I kinda spaced out for a bit." She sighed.

"No shit, Sherlock. Can you pass me the liquid aether? I'd like to get done with this lab already."

"Sure thing, sweetie." I replied, handing her the vial. She glared at me, an almost invisible blush on her face.

Sorry gramps. But I really like the redheaded girl from alchemy class.

...

Still can't believe it, Chip. Today's the big day.

After everything we've been through, after having you watch over me for practically my whole life, it's time for me to get married. I know, it's kinda weird asking for my oversized cockatiel to walk me down the aisle instead of my dad, but truthfully I couldn't have found a better person to do it in his place. I'm sure he's smiling upon us both from heaven.

I just wish he could've gotten to know Daniel better, to be honest. He was already really badly off when I told him about the engagement. He never got to know how much Daniel really cared for me, about how much he loved everyone around him, and how much he was willing to give to help us. I know he was happy knowing that I found my special someone and all, but it just doesn't compare to meeting the man who wants to be your son-in-law, you know? They never got to talk about how beautiful I am and how Daniel'd make dad proud and all that sappy stuff they talk about in those Lifetime movies.At least then he'd have actually known about the man he'd give me away to. Maybe he'd have given me his blessing before he left us.

Sorry, bud. You're right. I shouldn't be so sad on my wedding day. Daniel'd be worried. You'd be worried. Mom'd be worried. But you're important. You're gonna give me away, after all. You, the bird who's always been by my side. I think it's a blessing that you've been around as long as you have. Just seeing you home always made me feel better no matter what. Now that I'm about to dedicate my life to someone else, I think I should say thanks. You've been my best friend, my caretaker, and my family. You mean so much to me, Chip.

Eh? It's time already? Okay, okay! Calm down, Chip. Now, come on.

It's time to start the next chapter of our lives together.