The CHALLENGE chugs on!

[Xiander]

Whew, this week was tough for me. I had a hard time finding energy to wrtie. But i managed 444 words of marked for death, which I have send by private message to Lycunadari and started a new short story with 1080 words.
Here you go:

Spoiler: A moon over me, Part 1

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I check my watch, for something like the twelfth time. It’s only been five minutes. Waiting makes me nervous. So I into the darkness for a while, just watching the empty park, then check my whatch again.
I wonder if it’s broken.
No, the second hand is clearly moving. It’s an old pocket watch, which used to belong to my grandfather. I have kept it in perfect shape since i got it, polishing it daily, so the silver now gleams in the light of the lamp post I am standing under.
They are taking an awfully long time to get here. But then “around midnight” isn’t exactly the most precise time for a meeting. And to be honest they are probably making me wait just to set me on edge.
I think back on the events leading up to this meeting.

It has only been twenty four hours since Melanie failed to show up for our usual friday afternoon appointment. She’s usually punctual, so I called and it went straight to her answering machine. At that point I let my grandfathers clock count out an hour, before I took further action.
As soon as the second hand counted the last second of the last minute, I picked up my phone and called Melanies father.
He picked up on the first ring.
“Who is this?” He asked brusquely.
“Sorry for interrupting sir.” Melanies father was not a man to be rude to, so I kept a formal tone. “I had an appointment with Melanie an hour ago, she hasn’t shown up, so I wanted to check if everything was okay.”
“Get in line.” Melanies father sounded tense, on edge.
“Sir, what is wrong?” I tried not to sound pushy, but there was definately something up.
“Melanie has missed all her appointments today, and everyone is checking if she is allright.”
“That is terribly kind of them…” I started, but was cut off before I got any further.
“It’s taking up a lot of time, and I have been told to keep my phone line clear. Thanks for your concern and have a good day.”
There was the distinct click of Melanies father hanging up on me.
I checked my watch.
It was four in the afternoon and I didn’t have any plans for the night. I buffed the silver back of the watch on my west, as I thought the situation over. Then I put away the watch and went to visit Melanies father.
Melanie Koster, was the daughter of Frank Koster, who was to put it frankly filthy, stinking rich. The house I arrived at was more like a mansion, and the grounds stretched around it for several miles. I fancied that Melanie had probably just gotten lost somewhere in the giant house, and been to embarrassed to call for help.
The two police cars in the driveway quickly persuaded me that this was more serious than that. So I put on a serious face and walked past the police cars to the front entrance.
After ringing the doorbell, I was treated to a fair wait, before the door was opened by a manservant. It took me several minutes to cajole the man into actually letting me into the house to have a few words with mister Koster.
I found the man in a large sitting room, decorated with tastfull art and furnished with chairs and sofas which probably each cost more than my car.
Mr. Koster was sitting on one sofa, watching a old fashion landline phone which stood on a table in front of him intently. Right across from him sat a female police officer, silently projecting an aura of competence and security. A second police oficer stood by a window, glancing out at the giant garden, looking slightly bored.
“Sir.” Said the man servant cautiously. “I am sorry to disturb you, but this man claims he can help.”
Mr. Koster looked sharply at the manservant, then his eyes trailed to me. He was a stoic looking man, black hair imaculately combed and his mustache trimmed to perfection. His eyes were piercing and intense, and i sensed a fair deal of emotion behind them.
“Who are you?” He asked me, with the same brusque tone he had employed on the phone.
“Victor Marlowe.” I introduced myself. “I tutor your daughter once a week, we spoke on the phone earlier.”
“I’ll be frank with you Victor.” Mr. Koster said harshly. “I really don’t have time to chat with you right now.”
“I know you don’t.” I agreed, carefully keeping my voice calm. “I just came here to offer you my help.”
Mr. Koster was just about to answer, when the phone rang. Forgetting all about me, he ripped the reciever off the phone and answered it agressively.
“Who am I speaking to?”
There was a pause as someone spoke on the other end of the line. Mr Koster grunted instead of answering, a few more seconds of silence, then he put down the reciever.
“That was it.” He said seriously.
The police officers both shot me a glance, silently asking the obvious question: Should I be here for this.
“I can guess what is happening.” I said levely. “Someone decided to take your daughter and ask you for a ransom. I take it they have let you know that they have her, but will only give you more information, if you send away the cops.”
“How did you..?” Mr Koster started asking.
“Occams Razor.” I explained. “If a rich man’s daughter goes missing the first thought is kidnapping for ransom. You thought that yourself so you called the cops. The cops agreed, so they advised you to wait to be contacted while they checked out other leads. The next bit is a bit of extrapolation, if I was a kidnapper, I would keep a good eye on whomever I was trying to extort, so I would know if they were consorting with the police, and I would try to pressure them into not keeping the cops in the loop.”
“Well.” He said to the room at large. “That is what happened, any suggestions?”
The two police officers exchanged glances, obviously thinking har on how to present their side of this to the angry rich man.
I didn’t envy them that job. Police procedure barred them from pulling out of the case, no matter what the kidnappers demanded. However, explaining that to this particular gentleman seemed like a bad idea.

[jseah]

Just wanna say, that is a really funny premise for a story and I wish I had thought of that.

I collect my story ideas and write them down. Strange and funny premises are too precious to be wasted. =D

I often find an easy way to generate them is to take a single element of some larger series of conceits and take it to its logical limits.
Eg. Take the way Kantai Collection (the game) works and assume it applies like in most fanfics, where copies of shipgirls are created ('dropped') each time sorties are made.
Taken to its logical limits, you get Kancolle: Surplus Assets...
Fubuki 02127 works as a logistics officer in a transport company
She lives with a few of her twins in a shared apartment near the company and they all work there
The story focuses on her daily life as a shipgirl trying to fit into human society because there are too many shipgirls running around and no one wants to scrap the excess (since it's basically an execution). She wonders about her life far away from the sea, her twins share the various naval reporting magazines and newspapers.
Troubles caused by psychologically teenaged girls who are able to summon pint-sized cannons that are just as deadly as the real thing

1519 words for Ar Tonelico fanfic

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"What about Green magic?" Yoake piped up excitedly.
Chulsi smiled, "while Green isn't dangerous to people, it does share the same tendency to collateral damage as Red. If you're not in the range, don't sing green or you might be liable to pay for whatever damage you cause. If you're in the range here, feel free to direct any green magic at the sand pits, you don't need to wait for a healer to be present. So, go right on ahead!"
She waved Yoake off with a wink and the girl sped off to the firing line excitedly.
"Yoake managed to sing a lightning bolt green magic last week," Nomi explained as the Aya watched her roommate summon a blast of electricity that flashed fused the sand in front of her. "She's still so excited at finally having a real Song Magic. "
Aya could only nod in awe as Yoake blasted one bolt after another downrange with melodic accompaniment. She looked so happy to sing, Aya thought.
"So what Songs can you sing?" Nomi prodded her when Aya didn't look like she was going to say anything. Koneko perked up curiously too.
"Um... I... I managed to heal my friend before and I did it again but it didn't work the second time," Aya said, feeling her cheeks redden. Somehow, she didn't want to tell them about her anger causing so much damage and her failure to heal the bullies.
"Ah, a basic blue healing song. That's a very common first song for blue magic," Chulsi nodded, with Nomi and Koneko bobbing along with her. Aya bit down a hysterical laugh when she noticed they were nodding in time with Yoake's energetic blasting song. "Can I see it?"
Aya looked at her roommate's friends, who were glancing at her with interest. Oh why not. It wasn't as if carrot girl could do any harm. Apart from hitting them with the carrot.
She closed her eyes and tried to summon the feeling of protectiveness and healing. It came slowly, her attempts to sing sounding horribly off-key and definitely not Song Magic. Without the impetus of someone being injured in front of her, it seemed that Aya couldn't quite manage the correct state of mind.
Chulsi smiled, "right, that's a common beginner problem, you can't heal without an injury to look at, right?" She didn't wait for Aya to confirm before pulling out a small knife from her belt, "I have just the thing. "
And plunged the knife right through her left hand.
"Ah!" Aya squeaked in shock as the blood ran down Chulsi's arm onto the floor, the flowing redness holding her gaze with a terrible fascination. "What.. What are you doing?!"
Almost unbidden, the notes of her healing song came out of her mouth instead of her panicked exclamations. Once again, the need to heal combined with her earlier attempts to sing manifested into carrot girl. The tiny deformed girl appeared in all her glory of a plain white dress and a carrot the size of herself. Carrot girl immediately sped down to Chulsi's hand and spun around it once, waving her carrot.
The knife was pushed out of the wound and dropped to the blooded ground, leaving naked skin behind.
Aya could only stare in shock as carrot girl glared suspiciously at Nomi and Koneko, waving her carrot at them a little. Nothing seemed to change in them but they stood a little straighter, sore muscles from a morning of walking healed away. Then the white dressed manifestation of her Song proceeded to ignore everyone and play with her carrot in the air.
Chulsi shook her shoulder suddenly, startling Aya from her singing. Carrot girl vanished in a spray of sparkles. Aya blinked back stupidly, feeling tired and dizzy all of a sudden.
"Careful there, you're close to being wiped out," Chulsi warned her, "blue magic takes a lot out of you. Good work though, that was a fully formed healing magic projection. I'd say with some work on your stamina, you could easily manifest a second stage. But I'd suggest working on being able to call it up at any time. "
Aya rubbed her eyes and nodded, feeling more exhausted from a short twenty seconds of singing than being dragged all over the Church grounds.
"What about you two?" Aya asked Nomi and Koneko. "Know any Song Magics?"
"I can sing a blue healing song like you," Nomi shrugged, "Koneko knows a red magic song. We're trying to master our songs first before we try to learn more. "
Chulsi added helpfully, "to be a Class C reyvateil and begin your partnership, you have to know at least one red, blue and green song magic, or two red and two blue. And be able to sing long enough to manifest the second stage for all your red and blue songs. Just so you know, green magic doesn't have manifestations. "

It was much later in the evening when Aya reported for her first punishment duty at the toilets when another girl came barreling into the dormitory matron's office with a loud clatter, bouncing mops and pails everywhere.
"Sorry I'm late!" said a very familiar voice.
"Yoake?" Aya exclaimed.
"Aya?" her roommate echoed her surprise.
"Ahem," the matron coughed sternly, "since you know each other already, we can forgo introductions. I'm Nunni, the groundskeeper and matron of the Class D dormitories. I don't know why you got these punishments and I don't want you to tell me. You know where the toilets are?"
Aya gulped and nodded as the woman's eyes roamed over her. Dressed in a severe black, the woman was an epitome of strict discipline, all straight edges and upright back. She absolutely did not want to cross this woman and the thought of having to spend evenings of two weeks cleaning toilets under this woman was not pleasant.
Yoake, however, remained completely cheerful as they proceeded to the first shower. Why did the Class D block have four separate showers and toilet facilities anyway? Aya thought crazily.
"How can you be so cheerful?" Aya hissed, when the woman seemed like she wasn't paying attention.
"Oh, she's just a big softie. " Aya couldn't help but stare at Yoake after that statement, Yoake shrugged, "but really, it's more because you're with me. I mean, can you imagine how boring it would be to do this all alone?"
For some reason, Aya found herself cheering up at the thought that her presence made Yoake's punishment feel lighter.
"So, how did you end up here anyway?" she asked her roommate as the matron set them scrubbing the floors with brushes.
"Well, I may have grathmelded a little Softly Sexy and added it to the matron's bath," the little devil's face beside her was completely unrepentant. And while Aya didn't know what Softly Sexy was, she could guess what happened afterwards just from the name. "I thought she needed a little relaxation, you know? What about you? How long do you have to do this?"
"I'm here for two weeks-"
"Two weeks?! I'm only punished for two days. What did you do to get two weeks!"
Aya did not like the glint in Yoake's eyes at that statement, as if the younger girl was planning on doing some just as outrageous. She sighed, "I may have blown up a few people. "
At once, she realized her error but it was already too late. The girl's eyes grew calculative and she snickered, "so you can sing red as well. And I suppose those people were the ones you couldn't manage to heal? Yeah, I figured there was more to that story than you said. It's all right, we all make mistakes. "
"Enough whispering and more scrubbing, you don't want to be here all night, do you?" the matron shouted as she came back in with a refill of soap water.
Who then promptly turned a bright glowing green.
With a most unholy scream, the matron rushed out of the toilet, leaving Aya gaping at empty space she used to occupy.
"What. "
"Easy enough really, a little glow potion melded to a skin sweat remover," Yoake explained, "I replaced her perfume bottle. "
Aya felt a strangled sob trying to escape her throat but couldn't get out more than a squeak. "She's going to kill us," Aya wailed.
"What she doesn't know-"
"What who doesn't know?" the matron's voice sounded from around the door.
The speed at which Yoake's face drained of blood was almost enough for Aya to summon carrot girl again. And it was only afterwards, when Yoake managed to land herself another three days of cleaning, that Aya realized that Yoake had already worked out most of what happened to the bullies. And she didn't seem to mind.

[Lycunadari]

Status for July 10 - July 16!


Glass Mouse passes with 4072 words of megalomaniac space wizard backstory.

Lycunadari passes with nine drawings.

jseah passes with 1519 words of Ar Tonelico fanfic.

Xiander passes with 444 words of Marked for Death and 1080 words of A Moon Over Me.


Thus nobody FAILS this round!

Glass Mouse, Lycunadari, jseah and Xiander PASS this round!


Current standing:

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Glass Mouse
Current run: 7
Longest run: 290 weeks
Themes: -

Lycunadari
Current run: 236 weeks
Longest run: -
Themes: -

jseah
Current Run: 75 weeks
Longest Run: 33 weeks
Themes: -

Xiander
Current run: 54 weeks
Longest run: -
Themes: -




LeSwordfish
Longest run: 44 weeks

Icewalker
Longest run: 31 weeks

Lovely Vulcan
Longest run: 3

[Glass Mouse]

My haul for the week:

1415 words of rp backstory editing. Roughly half of that is new writing.

Two digital paintings, both roleplaying portraits, and two digital drawing things: link.

I'm also working a lot on a Cthulhu campaign but not sure how to count the picture-finding and flowcharting and stuff. It's easier with the npc descriptions and scene notes. Guess I'm just gonna work double time until it's done

I collect my story ideas and write them down. Strange and funny premises are too precious to be wasted. =D

I often find an easy way to generate them is to take a single element of some larger series of conceits and take it to its logical limits.

That sounds like a pretty cool writing exercise in its own right. Sounds like something I could benefit from doing for the elements of my old witch story when I get around to rewriting/editing it.

[Xiander]

Hello folks. This week I bring you the second installment of A Moon over me, numbering 1532 words.

Spoiler: A moon over me, part two

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I had a diferent perspective on the case, and diferent reasons to want Melanie found. I had been tutoring her for two years now, and I knew that being kidnapped could be bad for her. Especially on this particular night. I wondered if Frank Koster knew exactly what I had been teaching his daughter.
“Sir.” I said urgently. “I have a suggestion to make, but I need to make it to you and you alone.”
Mr. Koster sent me a piercing stare, but after a few seconds he nodded seriously. He rose from his seat and excused himself to the police oficers. Then he led me out of the room, down a hallway and into an office.
“Tell me your thoughts.” He said as soon as the door had clicked shut behind me.
“I think we need to find your daughter soon.” I spoke my mind openly. “Today is the worst day this could have happened.”
His eyes narrowed, as he took me in.
“What makes you say that?”
I dug into the inside pocket of my worn denim jacket and brought out a small kalender. The edges were dammaged from being stuffed in the pocket and the whole thing was worn. I handed int to him without a word and he looked it over. His eyes quickly found the red circle I had drawn around one particular day.
The day we were currently living through.
“So…” He took a deep breath. “You know?”
“I do.” I agreed. “That’s why I have weekly meetings with her. I have been helping her cope.”
“What do you suggest?”
“Work with the police, they are profesionals and pretty competent, they might find her for you.”
“Is that the best suggestion you have?”
“No.” I cracked a confident smile. “Hire me to search independantly of the police.”
“You think you can find her on your own?”
“If you give me what I ask for, I’ll have a fair shot at it.”
“What do you need?”
“Some of her clothing, preferably something she wore recently.”
“Why?” His voice was calm and passion free, but his eyes burned with emotion.
“So my bloodhound can get her scent.” I tried to sound nonchalant about it.
For a long moment he just stared at me, then his features changed as he realised a truth about me.
“Of course.” He said. “Is that all?”
“I’ll also need som cash.” I knew that was a bit crass, but having a few dollars in my pocket would make the job easier, and my job tutoring confused teens didn’t pay stellar rates.
“How much?” He asked, voice matter of factly.
I gave him a number, he didn’t question it. Instead he brought out his wallet and counted out the bills. I had forgotten for a moment, that this was a man who could burn money for warmth every winter and still die richer than I’d ever be.
“Anything else?” He asked.
“Yeah.” I didn’t like having to do this. “Don’t let the police know I am working on this, they will only try to stop me.”
“In that case, I will throw you out. You circle to the servants entrance and wait for my manservant to bring you the clothes you asked for.”
“Agreed.” I nodded seriously.
“LEAVE MY SIGHT THIS INSTANT YOU DAMN VAGRANT!” He bellowed at me without warning.
Taken aback by the sudden change int temperament, I backpedaled and went for the door. Instinctively, my left hand clasped the watch in my pocket, feeling for the soothing rythm of the ticking mechanics. I felt fear and rage well up in me, like an unbidden storm on the brink of spilling out into the world.
Then I felt the slow clicking rythm of the watch, and I breathed and regainde control. I got to the door, winked at Mr Koster, and feigned a hurried retreat through the grand hallways of the manor.
An hour later, I was on the prowl, armed with one of melanies scarfs, and my memory of her friday schedule. She had planned to meet me in the afternoon, but apparantly, she had gone off the tracks some time before that. She had shown up to a grand total of none of her friday appointments.
For most teens, this wouldn’t be too strange, but Melanie was usually punktual to a fault, and especially at this time of month.
So I started at the beginning.
Her first appointment had been a haircut. All the women in the fancy salon looked at me whith surprice as I stepped through the door. I was the only man in sight, and my worn denim clothes did not fit into the setting at all.
A blonde hairdesser of about half my size approached with a sweet smile.
“Do you have an appointment?” She asked in a tone that indicated she was sure that I didn’t.
“No, just some questions.” I tried a smile, Id didn’t seem to make her feel better about me. I should practice smiling in a mirror.
“Questions.”
“Who ususally takes care of Melanie Koster when she comes in?”
“Oh, that would be me.” Her brow creased and her eyes went to her hands. She looked worried.
“She didn’t come in today?” I knew the answer already.
“No.”
“Figures. I am helping her father find her, I just need a few informations and I’ll be on my way.”
The lady nodded, and I started asking questions about Melanie’s usual travel arrangements. Five minutes later, I left the salon armed with a few bits of new knowledge.
I got out Melanie’s scarf as I walked towards the bus stop where she would usually get off. Holding it to my nose I took a deep breath. Other than making me look like a creep, this served an important purpose. Melanies scent was still strong in the fabric, and I picked it up clear as day.
I locked that scent in my mind and focused on it as I walked to the bus. To most people this would be a useless tactic, picking up a scent more than an hour old is nearly impossible for the human nose.
Not for me though.
Just as I turned the corner and saw the bus stop, I recognised a vague impression of Melanies scent. I breathed deep, taking in the entire array of olfactory impressions found on thise half desserted street. Tarmac, car exhaust, a trashcan a little away, a hoddog stand around the corner, so many people passing through constantly, and there in the middle of it all, a little hint of Melanie.
I focused on that fragile trail, shutting out all other scents. Now doing this isn’t easy, imagine looking into a caleidoscope and trying to only see one of the colors, thats pretty much equivalent. Luckily I have a fair bit of practice, and I had a lot of motivation.
I followed melanies scent around a corner, away from the salon. I expected that whoever had taken her, had gotten her right after she got off the bus, and then led her away from the street to some location they deemed safe.
The trail of scent seemed to agree, as it led me down an alley and then straight to a stairwell leading to an abandoned basement.
The door was closed but not locked, so I pushed it open and stepped in. The place was dark, empty and damp. A heavy smell of fungus assaulted my nose, but in the background I could pick out the scent of several people, who had been her some time ago. Occam’s razor suggested that those belonged to Melanie and her kidnappers.
I stepped into the damp, empty room and looked around. There was not much to see. Discarded junkfood wrappers littered one corner, a few plastic chairs in the middle. Otherwise the room was empty.
A sharp scent caught in my nose, and I turned to see a man standing in the door. He was dressed completely in black, his face covered by a stocking with holes cut in it. He had a gun leveled at me, and a cold set of eyes peered through the two slits in the stocking.
My heart started galloping, and I heard my own blood rushing past my ears. I ground my teeth together and stuck my hand in my pocket to grasp my grandfathers watch.
“Hold it.” Said the gunman calmly. “Get your hand out where I can see it.”
“Easy.” I said, my voice suddenly hoarse. I slowly pulled out my hand, the wach still clasped in it. “It’s just a watch.”
“Hold it where I can see it.”
I complied, holding the watch out in plain sight. He grunted dismissively, and I clasped the watch tight with both hands. I felt the rythmic ticking of the clockwork, and my hear stopped pounding in my chest. I pushed out a tense breath.
“Who are you?” Asked the gunman tersely.
“Just a frelancer.” I said, as nonchalantly as possible. “Mr. Frank koster hired me to help find his missing daughter. Would you happen to know where to look?”
His eyes told a long story, before he even opened his mouth.

[Lycunadari]

Spoiler: nature pic

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Spoiler: random elf portrait

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Spoiler: Patrick Wolf portrait

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[jseah]

1100 for Hero's War

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"Hey there!"
The voice sounded from behind them, interrupted by the dull plods of a reki pulling a cart. Lyeald turned around, dragging his sister with him. Yvon didn't look up, the tiring task of putting one foot in front of the other had drained all the energy she had since morning.
They had been walking for two days already, with enough food to last one more. Her feet hurt and her neck was sunburned and she was feeling very uncomfortable and sticky.
Her brother did the introductions. "I'm Lyeald and this is my sister Yvon, who are you?"
"You're polite for a child," said the man, he sounded old to Yvon, "I'm Ris, a travelling peddler. Where are two young children off to? The roads may be safer these days but it is still no place for a kid like her. "
"We were turned out of our village, the last farmer to take us in didn't need us any more. The knights blew their house apart with magic in a fight and they can't afford to keep us when the new machines take all the work. " Lyeald explained, "we're heading east towards Minmay, I hope we can find enough work on the way to get food. "
"Hate to tell you this, but Minmay is to the west," Ris said plainly. Lyeald didn't reply for a moment but the man clearly took pity on him, "but you were heading west anyway, so you are going in the correct direction. Where did you hear that?"
"We don't know, I was just told to follow this road and head east to the main trade way. "
"Well, no matter. So tell me more about your village. "
Yvon had to trot to keep up as the cart pulled alongside them and Lyeald chattered away with the peddler.
It only took a few minutes before she was panting and the man took pity on them.
"I don't have enough food to sell but I am going towards Minmay was well. I can offer you a ride in my cart. Why don't you tell me more about that village and what caused the fight as we go on?" Ris asked.
Yvon finally looked up, not needing to emphasize the gratitude and exhaustion on her face. Her older brother was really smart to act so well, she could see the old man smiling down at her with pity.
A few seconds later, he was helping them up onto the cart, pulling them onto the rough wood panel next to himself.
Her brother told the story of their time in the village and the fight again with much enthusiasm, as if he hadn't repeated it tens of time to every traveller passing them. Meanwhile, Yvon caught her breathe and tried to soothe the ache on her legs by kneading them.
An hour later, the peddler was quizzing Lyeald about everything he could remember about their past village fairs, Yvon was getting quite bored. She looked backwards into the cart, curious about what the man might be selling.
While some of it was hidden in wooden barrels or cloth tarps, most of the cart contained a bewildering variety of toys, rolls of cloth, farm tools, utensils and even stranger things Yvon couldn't identify. She let her eyes roam between the objects for a while, wondering where Ris thought he might sell all of that. Then the corner of a yellowing page caught her eye, sticking out from underneath a cloth covered mound, it was near where she was sitting and if she could just reach backwards a little...
A bump on the road jerked Yvon upright as her brother caught her arm to stop her from toppling over.
"Interested in the Cato books?" the peddler had noticed and was looking at them with a twinkle in his eye, "very useful those. "
Yvon withdrew her hands, vaguely aware that touching the products for sale was not a good idea. "It's all right," she mumbled, keeping her head down.
"Tell me, what do you intend to do when you get to Minmay?" Ris asked her brother.
Lyeald shrugged, "find work. I may still be young but I heard travellers saying that anyone can find work there now. "
"Ah but what kind of work is important," the peddler replied, "if you really want to get work that pays more, you need to be able to read and count. "
"I can read!" Lyeald piped up, "and my sister can too. Our parents taught us before... before they died. "
Seeing her brother wilting, Yvon hugged his arm. As always, he calmed down a little and patted her on the head.
"Sorry about the bad memories. Still, if you can read, then perhaps you should learn how to count and do sums," the peddler explained, "those books can teach you how. "
Lyeald caught the man's meaning immediately, "and you can sell us one. "
"Indeed. A mathematics book, the first of the set, will teach you everything from learning to do sums and even basic algebra. Not that I know what it means of course, just that those better factory jobs require you to know that. "
Yvon opened the little precious pouch hidden in her clothes and touched Lyeald to signal how much money they had. He would decide how much they could spend.
"How much?" he asked. It was clear to Yvon and the peddler that he was intending to buy one after all.
"Twelve telins, just for you. "
Lyeald considered for a moment before countering Ris's indulgent offer, "can you give us six?"
"Twelve is really too low already. " Luckily, the peddler didn't seem offended, but even Yvon knew that twelve telins was a ridiculously small sum for the peddler. Not so small for them of course, it would wipe out more than half their coins.
"Excuse me," her brother told the peddler to wait before bending down to whisper with Yvon.
"Do you think it's worth it? If it really helps, it could be important later. I haven't really thought about what to do after getting to Minmay. "
She shrugged. What could she say? Her brother was older and he always knew what to do.
"We won't have enough to get food for the weeks on the road, we might have to do work for people along the way," he added.
Again Yvon didn't know what to say. She had been doing chores for food for the last two years now. How was that any different?
Lyeald sighed and turned back, "

472 for that unnamed story

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Stella turned around and lead Chris backwards through the central corridor to where she walled off the back entrance to the building. Clearly she had noticed something where the light beams had come from.
The small familiar figure of a young girl kneeling on the floor in relief nearly made Chris bug his eyes out.
"Emi?!"
His younger sister looked up and grinned weakly, "Ah, haha, you're safe then. " And then toppled over as if a switch had turned off. A long and pink baton rolled out of her hand.
Stella was at her side immediately, with one of the paramedics beside her. They talked for a while as the medic checked on Emi.
"Probably just magical exhaustion," Stella concluded.
"Well, I can't find anything wrong with her," the paramedic said, "it's like she's just sleeping. We should probably bring her in for observation anyway. "
"Backup's here," Robert said after listening to his radio, "We'll like to take the three of you in too, partly for your own safety. "
Chris and Stella looked at each other and nodded. Good idea.

In the hospital ward beside Emi, Chris rolled her baton in his hands, thinking. There had been all too much to think about happening in the last few hours.
For one thing, he had never expected to have to answer questions for the police, even if he wasn't in trouble. The police had taken the attack very seriously and after Stella had explained about magic, and demonstrated for the skeptics, they had sent a heavily armed taskforce to investigate the ruined school yard for traces of the small army of monsters.
One of the police higher-ups had talked of borrowing a helicopter from the city.
There were just too many questions Chris wanted to ask. What exactly was this magic Stella and his own sister claimed to be using? Why was he, Chris of all people, supposedly the source of all magic that the devils wanted to control?
And because there were too many, Chris started with a simple question.
"Can you use her baton?" he held out Emi's stick to Stella, "I assume it's magical?"
Stella looked at him weirdly, "You want me to use that thing?" she pointed at the pink shaft topped with a pair of tiny embarrassingly cute wings.
True, probably only Emi wouldn't look stupid waving it around. But it didn't answer his question.
"Yeah, it's magic. But it's... not the same," Stella said, frowning at Emi, "I've never seen anything like it. "
"You both fight the devils but you use different magic?"
"I don't even know what she did. I didn't even know Emi knew about the devils or I'd certainly have talked to her about it before. "

[Lycunadari]

Status for July 17 - July 23!


Glass Mouse passes with 1425 words of editing, two paintings and two drawings.

Lycunadari passes with six nature photos and two portrait drawings.

jseah passes with 1100 words for Hero's War and 472 words of unnamed story.

Xiander passes with 1532 words of A Moon Over Me.


Thus nobody FAILS this round!

Glass Mouse, Lycunadari, jseah and Xiander PASS this round!


Current standing:

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Glass Mouse
Current run: 8
Longest run: 290 weeks
Themes: -

Lycunadari
Current run: 237 weeks
Longest run: -
Themes: -

jseah
Current Run: 76 weeks
Longest Run: 33 weeks
Themes: -

Xiander
Current run: 55 weeks
Longest run: -
Themes: -




LeSwordfish
Longest run: 44 weeks

Icewalker
Longest run: 31 weeks

Lovely Vulcan
Longest run: 3

[Glass Mouse]

Somewhat meagre pickings this week: One painting featuring five rpg characters, and 344 words of campaign notes.

[Xiander]

Here ya go, 1746 words for A Moon over Me. I hope to finish it tomorrow and get back to my book, but for now this is what I have.

Spoiler: A moon over me, part three

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I know what people see when they look at me. Big guy, heavily worn denim clothes, shaggy hair. They all expect me to be hired muscle, which to be fair I often am.
The gunman’s eyes showed med contempt and a healthy doze of arogance. They also gave me the answer to my question. He knew, and he was trying to figure out if I was worth bargaining with.
“Why would I tell the hired help anything?” He asked, voice full of scorn.
“Because I can set up a deal.” I spoke slowly, while clasping the watch to keep calm. “Koster is playing ball with the police, but I can work outside that game and give you cash for the girl. And the cops won’t know.”
He looked at me, obviously trying to figure out if I was telling him the truth. So I showed him the money. I brought out the bills Mr. koster had given me. He flinched when I put my hand in my pocket, but he didn’t fire.
I brought the bundle of green out slowly and placed it in front of me. I saw his eyes widen at the sight and I could smell his excitement over the damp smell of the cellar.
“Here’s how we play this.” I told him, eying the gun in his hand. “You circle to your right and I circle to my right, you end up at the money, I get to the door.”
“Or I could just shoot you.”
“You could, but why would you? You’ll get the money anyways, and I gave it to you legally, so why make yourself a murderer?”
He grunted in agreement.
“Also, I can get you more money in exchange for the girl. Much more money.”
“How much?” The greed radiated off him like a fume.
“We’ll discuss details when I am at the door.”
He started circling slowly away from the door and towards the money. I followed his steps, keeping myself on the opposite side of an imaginary circle on the ground.
He reached the wad of cash and turned to face me without picking it up. This told me that he wasn’t half stupid. At this range the smallest distraction would give a competent fighter the opportunity to close and disarm the gunman, before he got a shot off.
I had thought about trying that, but he wasn’t giving me any opening, so I had to go to plan B. Negotiation.
I stood in the door, staring him down, and doing my best to show no sight of being nervous. I’d stuffed my hands in my pockets, both to look calm, and to grasp my grandfathers clock. The rythm of it soothed my nerves and let me focus in spite of my heart hammering in my chest.
“Here is the deal.” I said. “You pick a place, I pick a time. I’ll leave my calling card on the floor here. You can call me and give me your demands.”
He thought it over, then nodded.
“Good,” I didn’t waste any time on formalities. “We meet around sundown for the exchange. Give me the demands and the location within an hour.”
“Sundown?” His voice was ripe with scepticism. “Can you get enough money by then?”
“You let me worry about that.” I winked at him, pulled one of my calling cards from my pocket, dropped it on the floor, and stepped out of the basement.
On the street again I set a brisk pace. The guy had shadowed me once, and he could do it again. I did not want him to tail me while I was preparing to meet him, so I had to make good use of the small delay picking up the money and my card would give him.
I didn’t run, running would make people notice me, and if a crowd is looking at you, the guy trying to follow you will be too.
So I walked quickly to a street corner, took a turn, proceeded to and alley and ducked inside. Once I was off the main street, I located a fire escape ladder. It was hanging about a meter above my head, the part which coulc touch the ground retracted while not in use.
I didn’t let that stop me though. One high jumpand an over zealous chinup later, I was climbing onto the lowest part of the fire escape. Within a minute I was on the roof. I hunkered down, and soon spotted the gunman, poking around in the alley. He obviously hadn’t spotted me, which was the whole point of the maneuver.
I waited around thirty minutes before I got off the roof. Then I went straight to businiss. I had a few things to pick up and a lot of courage to gather.
Don’t get me wrong, I had a plan, a pretty solid plan. It was however the kind of plan I really wish I didn’t have to rely on. The red mark around today in my calendar marked this date as both the best and the worst day for me to get into trouble with an over ambitious band of wanabe extortionists.
Seeing as I couldn’t wind the time back or forth, no matter how hard I implored my grandfathers watch, I instead descided to gamble on the date being able to give me and edge.
I stopped by my appartment and picked up my cache of emergency equipment. Then I Drove to a bank and withdrew a fair amound of my savings. Then I spend a some time getting my hands on a suitcase and a couple of big phone books.
I was busy arranging the mony and the phonebooks inside the suitcase so it looked like the thing was full of cash, when my phone rang.
“Victor Marlowe.” I said into the phone, my eyes still on the cash in my suitcase.
A rough voice told me to bring a ridiculous sum of money to the playground in a local park at the agreed time, then hung up before I had time to answer. I suppose they didn’t do this for the chit chat.
So I checked my watch, and found I had a couple of hours. I spend them making sure the fake suitcase of money was presentable and practicing opening it without spilling cash and phone books everywhere.
I must have looked at that silver watch close to a thousand times during those hours. I know exactly when the sun sets, I make a point of it. So everytime I checked and the minutehand was one tick closer to sundown, I felt my nerves tighten.
Finally my patience was rewarded, with the need to move if I wanted to reach the park on time. It wasn’t a long drive, but I was tense as I got in the car and even tenser when I got out.

And then I was standing by a playground, checking my watch constantly waiting for the kidnappers to show. I had expected them to be punctual, I mean they wanted the money, right?
It was only at that point I started realising how bad the plan could be screwed up, by them simply being late. To late to dwell on that now, I had to just hope they showed up soon.
I checked the watch for a thirteenth time. While my eyes were occupied, my ears picked up the distinct sound of someone pointing a gun at me and turning off the safety. I looked up to see a gunman, his face covered.
A deep breath gave me his scent and confirmed it was the same guy who I had met earlier that same day. He was a smart guy, and cautious. I hoped the plan would work with him.
The gunman was alone, and there was no sign of Melanie. I had expected this, mostly because that is what I would have done. Keep the hostage away from sight for as long as possible, that way no one gets the idea to do something stupid or heroic.
My problem was that I did not actually have the money they had asked for. So going of track and trying to rescue Melanie from several armed extortionists was pretty much my only option.
I reminded myself that the difference between stupid and heroic was sucess. Then I wordlessly lifted the suitcase into view. I clicked it open and lifted the lid, Displaying the layer of cash, which hid some really thick phone books.
Follow the money is a common piece of advice for detectives, journalists and spies. It is also a psycological imperative stuck in the mind of almost all human beings. So when I opened a suitcase, apparantly full of money, the gunmans attention imedeately turned to the bills.
I knelt and placed the suitcase on the ground, taking extra care not to upset anny of the bills, so the phone books would show. His eyes followed the cash to the ground.
I got up and took five long paces backwards. I passed out of the light of the streetlamp and got far enough away that The gunman would feel safe approaching.
I watched him as he stepped closer, noting any move. The gun was still on me, but most of his focus was on the cash. He had been able to ignore a big wad of green earlier, but it took a very focused mind to ignore a suitcase full of dollars.
He knelt to pick up the suitcase, but as he reached to close the lid, a bill caught on his sleeve and dislodged, showing the yellow front of a phonebook beneath.
“What the ****?” He asked, his focus jumping back to me.
He was to late.
I had started moving as soon as his focus was entirely on the suitcase. By the time he looked up again I was comming at him with a full on tackle.
His gun came up and there was a flash and a crack. The gun was silenced, but even so the sound was loud. I felt a burning in my shoulder, the instant before I collided full force with the gun man.
He wasn’t in bad shape, maybe extortionist have workout programmes. Still, I outweighed him with at least twenty kilos of muscle and I had momentum on my side.I flung him several metres and he tumbled to the ground, the gun flying out of his hand.

[Lycunadari]

Guess who got a scanner this week! No more blurry, dark photos of drawings because I forgot to take the pictures during the day.

Spoiler: Luna

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[jseah]

1600 words for a... Harry Potter fanfic?

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You've got dirt on your nose, you know?... I read it in Hogwarts, A History... she's mad, that girl... the banging of a train compartment door, as she ran down the aisle in tears. She had screwed things up, just like in her primary school, she was never going to be accepted...

She stared down at her messy pile of books and ink on the floor. Somewhere inside her, the little bit of hope that this place could be different died in a whimper. It was just the same. House of the smart indeed. House of the jealous more like. Fine, she would just have to be so good that no one could say otherwise!

Miss Granger, can you tell me why you have an incendiary ward on your trunk? ... Well sir, if you can't stop my housemates from stealing my things, I'll have to find my own way to protect them, won't I? ... I shall remind them to leave you alone. In the mean time, I cannot allow you to have potentially lethal wards on your trunk. You will have to remove it... A door slamming open... Oh, and Miss Granger? Twenty points for excellent runework.

The banners above them switched from silver green to red gold. She just shook her head and went back to her library book.

Well? ... Miss Granger, I am very sorry that this has happened. I assure you that the perpetrators will be punished... Are they going to be expelled? ... What? No, they are not getting expelled... Then what good is it? They drugged me and dumped me naked in the dungeon! I thought I was raped! Do you really believe that they will stop after all this time?... I assure you that this will not happen again... I will hold you to that... The blue eyes watching her leave had none of their usual twinkle.

Honestly, they were all idiots! Even if the boy was a parselmouth, it was obvious to anyone who even thought about it a little that he knew nothing about what was going on. Also there was no way the three idiots studied enough to petrify people!

She rolled her eyes as the last minute points won the idiots the housecup again.

Now I must warn you, Miss Granger that this is a dangerous device only loaned to you because I feel I can trust your integrity. Do not let me down.

The squawking of the students at breakfast made her look up. Their hair was turning all different shades of the rainbow. And sparkling. She shook her head and continued her breakfast... I had nothing to do with this... Then Miss Granger, can you explain why you were the only one not affected? ... After the incident last year, I perform enchantment and potion detection charms on everything I eat and touch. All the juice and milk this morning was laced with a potion so I drank from my personal waterbottle instead... So that's why you wear gloves on your left hand all the time. I am very sorry Miss Granger that you feel unsafe enough to resort to this. You are cleared to go.

Did the time sand in the hourglass just twinkle? She blinked and put away the magnifying lens. The fantastically tiny lines of runes were so fascinating! It was easily the most complex piece of magic she had ever held in her hand. She simply had to study this!

Stupid Quad-wizard champions. Why should she care about what the boy did? Still, the age line around the cup was an interesting topic, if she could learn to cast one...

And how will you explain the injury to her wand hand? ... I recall your assurance last year that attacks against me would stop. If they had indeed stopped, then this would not have happened... I understand your difficulties but surely you must understand that warding your trunk with cursed fire is excessive. Miss Edgecombe has lost the use of her arm for a month and may never recover fully! ... And thus I have assurance that she will no longer try to steal from me. If you want to know why I did this, you should ask yourself why a fourth year student maintains a supersensory charm everywhere she goes and why she wards her potion bench before brewing... She heard a deep sigh as the door closed behind her.

Sir, I would like to try the Imperious curse again... Yes sir, every Saturday for two hours. I want to be completely immune by the end of this year... She caught the ex-auror's crooked smile when she didn't jump at his shout of constant vigilance!

She blinked at the expanded runesets from her time turner. The time sand wasn't even needed? But then why was it in here?

Useless defence teachers were useless. But at least she had her dueling books and her personal drills. She was totally not going to involve herself in that boy's group. Why, at the rate he seemed to get in trouble, if she joined she would find herself dueling you-know-who by the end of the year. Nope, she was going to appear a good little student and study on her own.

Her drill with the silent wandless shield charm was coming along nicely. Even if it was looking increasingly unneeded. She hadn't received a single hex or curse in over two months. Indeed, it seemed as if everyone just ignored her. Or that might be the working of her notice-me-not amulet.

The time sand was only needed for physical movement through the time stream. She bit her lip at the compiled rune translations. If she was seeing this correctly, this subset of runes would just send her memories into the past without her body. Time sand might be required for long distance trips though. Now, how to test her theory? Hm, something smart enough to easily test its memory. A post owl perhaps?

The smoke from the fires in the great hall was choking her but she continued to run. A jab of her wand followed by a circle blasted a silent confrigo at the death eater chasing her up the stairs, absorbing the purple curse with an equally silent Castellum ward. She caught a glimpse of the woman's shoulder exploding before the skull mask disappeared below the edge of the grand staircase.

Nowhere left... the boy who lived never returned to them... the battle was lost... she choked on the blood bubbling from her mouth and glanced around the room for the last time. Not even the death eaters would bother with a dying mudblood when there was a battle to fight. She glanced down at her ruined chest and saw hope in the sparkling dust of her shattered time turner.

Time sand swirled around her wand as she fought against her exhaustion and inability to breathe. Silently, she pushed the last of her magic through the wand and on the runes she had carved into her head. In Memoria Temporis!

Hm? Anything but Weasley? That's no reason to go back on your desired house, you know? You children decide too soon. But so do I. Never mind then, if your courage can be bent from just that, I wish you the best in Ravenclaw!


Hermione jerked upright in her bed, covers falling to the floor. Her heart hammered in her chest with shock, horror and for a long disorienting moment, she wondered where she was. No, right, this was her room. What... What was that dream?
The storm of knowledge, images and emotions swirled around her. Diagrams of spell matrixes, a flash of a red-toothed jaw, the smell of dragon dung, happiness, resolve, sadness, anger and a thick cloying fear all battered their way into her thoughts.
The tide of emotions rose up like a depthless ocean, roaring and raging yet impossibly vast and deep. Even so, it was familiar, as if it was herself who was crying from lost hope, running in desperate panic, blasting in anger. It was all familiar, just like an old memory of her time in school. But she was drowning in it, the memories were much more than just a dream, there were... seven years of memories? In a castle of stone and magic and strange wonders she didn't understand but also somehow did.
The big pictures even talked. Which made no sense. But of course they could talk, they were magically imbued with an impression of the subject's mind.
No wait, how did she know all this?
The images and memories swirled around her, distinct and separate now. It was still overwhelming but Hermione could tell it wasn't part of herself now.
And despite her initial panic and fear at the intrusion, she was still Hermione after all. It wouldn't be like her to poke-
-she was tracing the runes from the Futhark dictionary, trying to reverse engineer the magic channels the set created. Without the original notes of the time turner's creation, it was all she could do to guess at the surrounding runes around the ehwaz. No need to wonder what that one was for-
The very confused girl popped out of the memory. It wasn't at all like a movie or living the memory. She was in the memory itself, she was the Hermione bent over a huge book the thickness of her thigh, she knew what an ehwaz rune was. It was as if she was recalling herself reading a single page from her textbooks.

And of course, I had to spend most of the week designing a magic system to make HP's absolutely crazy magic make sense, before putting a single word to paper. And now the story will devolve into a mess of magic theory and Hermione studying magic.

Because of course, what else would anyone expect me to write? =P

[Lycunadari]

Status for July 24 - July 30!


Glass Mouse passes with 344 words of campaign notes and a five people painting.

Lycunadari passes with six nature photos and three drawings.

jseah passes with 1600 words of Harry Potter fanfiction.

Xiander passes with 1746 words of A Moon Over Me.


Thus nobody FAILS this round!

Glass Mouse, Lycunadari, jseah and Xiander PASS this round!


Current standing:

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Glass Mouse
Current run: 9
Longest run: 290 weeks
Themes: -

Lycunadari
Current run: 238 weeks
Longest run: -
Themes: -

jseah
Current Run: 77 weeks
Longest Run: 33 weeks
Themes: -

Xiander
Current run: 56 weeks
Longest run: -
Themes: -




LeSwordfish
Longest run: 44 weeks

Icewalker
Longest run: 31 weeks

Lovely Vulcan
Longest run: 3

[Lycunadari]

Lots of pride pictures.

Also, new avatar *points to side*

[Xiander]

Not quite done with A moon over me yet, here are 1626 words though.

Spoiler: A moon over me, part four

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Disoriented by hitting the ground, the gunman took a second to get his grips back. I siezed the moment and pounced. Before he had a chance to get to his feet I was on him, grapping his collar and lifting him a full foot off the ground.
“Where are my manners?” I said, pressing the words out between my teeth. “I am Victor Marlowe, I never got your name.”
“Wha?” He gasped.
“Tell me your name.” I said in a low growl.
“J-Jim.” His voice cracked as he said it.
“Let me illumninate the situation for you Jim.” I Spoke in hard punctuated words. “I intend to find Melanie Koster if I have to ransack the better part of this city to do it. If I don’t find her soon, there will be severe consequences. You can tell me where your friends are holding her, or I can get persuasive… Your call.”
It was probably imagination, but I fancied hearing the second hand on my grandfathers watch ticking as Jim considered his options.
He had been large and in charge when he had a gun trained on me, but without that advantage, his power over the situation was gone. Suddenly my size and physical strength gave me the clear advantage. The fact that he knew I was crazy enough to run straight at a gun, armed only with my fists, was an added bonus.
He took a shuddering breath, swallowed and caved in. In a dry, nevous voice he told me where his comrades were holding Melanie. I set him on the ground, looked him straight in the eyes and spoke.
“You are coming with me, I might need an extra set of hands.”
“Why would you trust me to help you?” He asked, incredulous.
“Because I have a gut feeling, that you don’t want to see anyone dying tonight.”
“W-What?” Jim stammered. “They wouldn’t kill her, or you.”
“Maybe not.” I said. “But she might very well kill them. Now come on, we don’t have much time.”
I stopped to pick up the gun where it had fallen, giving Jim a few moments to think over my words. He didn’t really have any reason to believe me, or to side with me. So I was taking a gamble, that he wouldn’t let me go, then get out his phone and warn his pals that I was coming.
I straightened and walked towards my car, long steady steps carrying me quickly away from the playground. I had taken three steps, when I hear him following me.
“What do you mean she’ll kill them?” He asked nervously.
I didn’t answer.

Twenty minutes later. The sun had set ten minutes ago, and the moon would rise soon. My grandfathers clock was ticking so loud that I wondered why Jim had not asked about it yet.
He had gotten into the passenger seat, and continued to ask me questions about who I was and what I knew for the entire drive. I had not answered anything, but Jim hadn’t given up yet.
“Would you really take a bullet for this girl? How much is the old man paying you?”
Instead of answering, I looked at my shoulder, where a my vest was marred by a bullet hole. There was som blood, but at this point my shoulder wasn’t hurting any more and I could barely tell I had been shot twenty minutes ago.
He followed my gaze and noticed the bullet hole for the first time. His eys widened.
“****! You did take a bullet for her? You are one crazy bastard.”
“Well..” I took out my grandfathers watch. “I was in a hurry. Still am. More so now.”
I knew by heart the times. I put the red circles in my calendar by habbit, and I no longer checked online for the precise time of moonrise.
We had four minutes.
“We are not going to make it.”
“Make it?” He was looking at me like I was crazy. Which was fair. “You haven’t told me anything, and I don’t get why you think we are in such a hurry.”
“Trust me.” I turned and looked him straight in the eyes, giving him my honest face. “You need to call your freinds right now and tell them to get out of there.”
“No offense Marlowe, but I’m mostly here because you scare me. I don’t know why you want me to tell my partners to leave, but it realy sounds like you are trying to trick me into having them let the girl go.”
I ground my teeth, he had a damn good point, but I had to do something to save Melanie, from her kidnappers, from this mess of a situation, and mostly from herself.
“The call them up and tell them that I will break you in two equal pieces and break both those in pieces, and continue that way until I can stuf the pieces in matchboxes and mail them to them one at a time, unless they let the girl go.”
My voice was flat, my breathing was steady, I didn’t yell or threaten to punch him. But the boy in the passenger seat looked just as scared as if I had done all those things.
He got his phone out.
I pushed the car door open and stepped onto the sidewalk. He hesitated, then dialed a number. As the phone rang I stepped towards the empty office building where Melanie was held.
“I am going in Jim.” I said and looked at the watch again. “In two minutes, things should get loud.”
The front door swung open, revealing a dark hall. The place was a ghost house, empty of people, furniture and any other signs of habitation. It had been marked unsuitable for use years ago, but had never been knocked down. Someone must have lost the paperwork.
I took a deep breath, noting all the scents of the place. Dust and decay was everywhere. And then there was the touch of paople. Several diferent scents mingled together. And among them, I found Melanie’s
I latched onto it and followed it up the stairs. There were ten floors to the building, two steps at a time I flew upwards.
I had reached floor four, when I felt a sensation, like an invisible force tugging in my entire being. It was a call to step out of this world and into another. To let go of my concerns and let my instinct rule me for the rest of the night.
Ireached into my pocket and closed my hand around the clock. The cold metal of the casing soothed my nerves and the tug lessened.
I focused my mind. I knew exactly what this meant, and I couldn’t afford to stall now. Everything was balanced on a knife’s edge. The stakes were as high as they could get.
The moon had just risen.
I bolted up the stairs, mu lungs burned and my legs felt like rubber. Still I pushed on.
Then I heard someone yell. The sharp tearing crack of a gunshot. Then a crash, like two cars colliding at full speed.
It came from further up, probably no more than two floors. I kept going, as more gunshots rang through the empty building. Then screams of terror, and the snarling roars of what sounded like and enormous dog.
I reached the floor where the sound was coming from, a young man in a skimask fled screaming towards the stairs. I got out of his way, and he didn’t even pause to look at me. He flew downthe steps I had just rushed up. I considdered that I might be acting stupid.
I didn’t considder it for long, I was disturbed by a shrill shriek of agony. Motion came to my legs again without my brain being asked for permission.
I ran towards the sound, turned and stepped through a door on my left, and came face to face with a monster. Eight feet tall and covered in coarse black hair, with a set of long sharp predator’s fangs, the creature looked like the cross between a primordial wolf and a cavewoman.
The beast was naked and spattered with blood. It faced me with a menacing growl. Behind it on the floor lay another young man, his arm torn blody by the monster’s claws. He was mewling and whining, and the creature had obviously discarted him as nonthreatening.
Now It was staring at me, acessing what danger I might be to it, and wheather I would taste nice.
It pounced in a lightning motion, leaving me only a split second to take cover behind the doorframe. The monster’s claws tore the wood of the frame to shreds, and I backed further away into the hallway. If I had to fight this thing, I needed to do it as far away from any victims a possible.
The beast came through the door like a storm of teeth and claws. I fended it off as bes i could, but it’s claws found my flesh in two places and I felt the burning pain where my blood was spilled. The third angry swipe of the claw got caught on the frame of an open door, apparantly this hallway was not made for eight feet monsters.
I siezed the moment and barreled forward, straight into the monster. With a grunt of effort, I picked it up, turned and smashed it into the wall. I I backed off and smashed it against the plaster again and again.
The wall gave and we both tumbled into an ajoining room. I scrambled to my feet and saw the creature rist, as if nothing had happened to it. I swallowed, this was bad.

[jseah]

1540 words for the HP fanfic

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She blinked. She had textbooks in her head. And most of it was magic. Seven years of magic school? No, the memories and emotions towards the end were dark and desperate. Not just magic, but also death, destruction and war.
"Hermione!" The shout jerked her out of her mind, blinking up at her mother. The worried lines on her face, the same brown eyes and frizzy hair as her own, jarred Hermione fully awake. Her mother looked frazzled, sleep still clinging to her eyes and posture. One hand was on Hermione's shoulder shaking her awake.
"What?" she asked, feeling confused and sick. Foreign emotions still swirled at the edges of her thoughts and pooling in her stomach. Even now, when she could feel the light of day entering her mind, she still knew the memories were there. They did not evapourate like a dream.
"Was it a nightmare? You were screaming. "
Hermione blinked. Her mother's face was drawn and white. "I was screaming?" she asked. The memories contained lots of screaming, especially towards the dark seventh year, but she didn't recall herself doing the screaming.
"You sounded terrible, I almost thought you broke an arm. "
Hermione blinked at her mother before feeling her fingers beginning to cramp. They were clutching the soft fluffy bed covers like a lifeline, and... she forced her hand open and let Milo, her childhood teddy bear, drop to the ground. Her face felt like it was on fire.
"I don't know, mum. I had a dream, and it was terrible," she blinked as tears rose again, some of the final desperation that dream-Hermione felt in what was some of the very last memories. "I went to a school, and there was magic and... and monsters- and I was fighting some dark evil people and everyone was dying and-" "Shhh, it's alright, you're in your room. It's just a dream. "
She let out a sob as frightened tears soaked into her mother's nightgown as the warm safe arms held her like she was six again. Hermione shuddered and tried to relax, pulling her arms around Milo the teddy bear just like her mother around her. She closed her eyes and let the foreign fear and despair drain away as her mother rocked her gently.
Hermione sensed that something was strange but at the moment, all that mattered was her mother's wordless murmurs as she slowly regained her sleep.

The bright sun began to intrude on her sleep to an annoying degree. It was getting rather late.
Grumbling, Hermione slowly woke up and brushed the last of her sleep from her eyes. A scraping of soft fluff against her cheek made her frown. It was Milo, still stuck in her fist.
Since when did her stuffed bear get into her bed? Milo's place was on the bottom shelf across the room. Hermione frowned at the empty spot amongst the row of progressively less aged teddy bears. She put Milo down on the ground by her bed. Gently.
In fact, she distinctly recalled having it- the dream slammed back into her at full force again.
Hermione shook in the remembered emotions and, with a mental heave, pushed it away. Then she blinked, how did she know how to do that? A word from the memories popped up, "occlumency", and she recalled that it was a method to defend her mind from intrusions with a side effect of organizing her memories.
She blinked. The memories contained knowledge of the memories? That was weird even by her standards and weird things happened all around her too.
Wait. She had a horrible feeling of deja vu and paged through the memories. Doing that was so much like a book that she was half wondering how a library got into her head, but it was not important at the moment.
Instead, Hermione went back to one of the earliest memory-books and recalled herself, no- a different Hermione Granger, pick up and read a letter that would send her to the magic school. The woman who came to her house a while later then explained that Hermione was a witch and the magic powers were what caused those weird incidents that seemed to follow her around. Accidental magic, the woman called it.
She looked down at the teddy bear that was somehow back in her arms again as she tried to push down the panic that was making her hyperventilate.
Didn't that happen last night as well? Hermione dimly recalled throwing away the teddy bear that just didn't want to leave her.
She put the bear down beside her bed. Again. And eyed it suspiciously.
-push the magic out of your arms and shape your intention to bring the object to you. Focus your intention on the characteristics of the target-
The bear shot up from the ground and smacked into her nose.
"Ow!" Hermione fell back onto her pillows more out of shock than pain, and stared at the apparently magical teddy bear.
She plucked the offending soft toy from her chest and shook it experimentally before deciding that the whole thing was just her going crazy from her dreams. It was time to get ready for breakfast. She left her room, the bear hanging in one hand.
Surely magic couldn't be real, could it?
And after last night, Hermione could do with a little childish comfort this morning.

"I heard you had a bad dream last night, Hermione?"
She looked up at her father's question, then to the side at her mother. Her mother just nodded.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Her mother asked.
The girl looked up at her parents over her barely touched breakfast. Despite drawing reassurance earlier, Milo sitting in her lap during the morning light of breakfast was less comforting than before.
The dream memories were still there. They had settled down, more a mental library than a maelstrom now. But she could still view them, still feel their pain and joy and horror. Still feel the wet slickness of blood splattering over her head.
Hermione blinked away tears that threatened the spill again and relaxed as her mother shushed her comfortingly. Her father remained seated across the table from her, holding her hands as her mother slid arms around her and shared the seat at the dining table.
"It was a dream," she started, "I dreamed that I was a witch and I went to a school of magic. "
"That doesn't sound like a nightmare," her father said.
"It wasn't at the start. I was excited in the dream, to learn magic spells and potions and see interesting magic plants. The school was a castle, it was beautiful too," Hermione smiled as the images sped past.
"Magic spells and a castle? Was there a dragon there too?" the joking tone was clearly meant to soothe her, so she didn't brush her parents away like she would have. She was a big girl now, eleven and three quarters!, but in the horror of the dream, how old she was didn't seem to matter so much.
She snuggled into her mother's chest, "not at first. The dragon was in fourth year. There was a tournament where two of my schoolmates had to compete and... and one of them died. "
The slowly recovering mood suddenly froze over.
"I remember that part. The two champions reached the cup at the same time. They disappeared for a while and no one knew what was going on and when they came back... one of them was... was dead. He was just lying there. "
The two dentists could only watch and try their best to comfort their daughter as fresh tears welled up. Her mother stroked her hair and held her close, still humming tunelessly.
"The previous years weren't good either. I was the best in class at magic and in the exams, naturally," she managed to share a rueful smile with her parents, "and the same thing happened again. My classmates were jealous and either wanted to copy my homework or they teased me and stole my homework. They... they sabotaged my trunk or burnt my parchment or stole my clothes. "
She sucked in a deep breath, "but this was a school of magic and I made my own magic to protect my stuff. I put curses on my bags and my trunk and my head of house, who was a half goblin by the way, had to tell me off a few times because they were too violent. I had to learn shield spells to defend myself and I... I cursed them back a few times too. The last time the bullies went after me, the curse on my trunk nearly blew off her arm. "
The silence at the table felt damning to her as Hermione stared at the wooden surface of the table. Just as Hermione wanted to run from her parents, certain of their disappointment, her father spoke up, "so you were fighting those bullies at this magic school? Just with magic instead of fists? And you dreamed that you hurt them with a weapon?"

Wonders when my muse will move on...

[Lycunadari]

Status for July 31 - August 6!


Glass Mouse didn't upload/send me anything.

Lycunadari passes with 21 pride photos and an avatar.

jseah passes with 1540 words of Harry Potter fanfiction.

Xiander passes with 1626 words of A Moon Over Me.


Thus Glass Mouse FAILS this round!

Lycunadari, jseah and Xiander PASS this round!


Current standing:

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Glass Mouse
Current run: -
Longest run: 290 weeks
Themes: -

Lycunadari
Current run: 239 weeks
Longest run: -
Themes: -

jseah
Current Run: 78 weeks
Longest Run: 33 weeks
Themes: -

Xiander
Current run: 57 weeks
Longest run: -
Themes: -




LeSwordfish
Longest run: 44 weeks

Icewalker
Longest run: 31 weeks

Lovely Vulcan
Longest run: 3

[Xiander]

With a 1991 word installment this week, I finally reached the end of A moon over me.

Spoiler: A moon over me, Part five

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Through the hole we had made when we crashed through the wall, I saw Jim. He had planted his feet and was stille aiming his gun at the monster.
When the thing turned on him and moved to pounce, he squezed the trigger. The bullet took the monster in the chest, and for all I could tell, it hardly inconvinienced the thing.
With a primal roar, the creature launched itself at Jim, Who wisely threw himself to the side.Again, the monster’s size became it’s disadvantage, as the whole was to narrow for it to rush through. I paused for a second and I saw my chance.
I spreng off the floor, grabbed the thing by the shoulders and threw it to the floor. As it snarled and scrambled to get upright I slipped through the hole in the wall. I’m a big guy, but the monster made me look like a teenager, so I could ge through with relative ease.
I turned to my right and stared straight into the barrel of Jim’s gun. His hands were shaking but his aim seemed steady. I didn’t have time to surrender, so I moved towards him ignoring the gun.
“Run!” I snapped.
To his credit, he didn’t shoot me. Instead he turned and made tracks like a rabbit on steroids.
We hadn’t gone far before a crash and a roar announced that the beast had decided to just brute force its way through the hole in the wall.
“Go right.” I gasped.
Jim kicked open a door and we tumbled into an empty office room. Large naked windows let me look out over the city and see the moon in the sky, a silver disc, completely round illuminating our desperate struggle with it’s heatless light.
“What the hell is that thing?” Jim asked, his voice desperate. “I shot it five times! Five!”
“Shooting it won’t help much.” I said, still loking at the moon.
“What are you, some kind of expert?”
“Yes.”
I reached into my pocket and got out grandfathers watch. The hands told the cold, hard truth. There were still hours til the moon would set. I felt the pull of the celestial body in my entire being, the silver in the watch only barely keeping me tethered to myself.
“Then please tell me how we stop it.” Jim was desperately checking his gun to see how many bullets were left in it. Down the hall I heard the roar of the monster coming closer.
“We do something crazy.” I said, determined. “Hold my whatch.”
I released the chain form my vest and threw the watch in a soft underhand throw. Jim caughtit onehanded, almost dropping his gun to do so.
The tug of the moon grew to momentous proportions, I gritted my teeth and consentrated on the task at hand. I couldn’t afford to give in, that would not end well.
“What are you going to do?” Jim asked.
I didn’t answer.
Instead I turned my back on him and walked to the door to the hallway. The smells around me had grown overpowereing. Sweat, blood and gunpowder sang in my nostrils, and someone had pissed their pants during the fight. But all that was nothing compared to the stink of the beast.
It was a heavy animal scent. To a human it was the smell of danger, fear and death. To me it was the scent of a challenger. I stepped into the hallway with a snarl. The creature was less than seven long steps away, not moving, just looking at me, sizing me up.
I breathed in deeply, feeling the smells burning in my nose. Then as I exhaled, I yielded to the pull of the moon. I did not let go entirely, bu I losened my grip just enough for the moon’s influence to take hold.
The hallway changed around me, growing smaller and taking on a greyish colour. In the back of my mind I knew the hallway was the same, and I was the one who had changed, but that part of my mind was no longer in control.
Instead the beast in me steered me forward towards the challenger in front of me. I roared and charged, and the other one answered in kind.
We met like two storms over an ocean. Two forces of nature coliding in an unbridled explosion of violence. Claws and teeth found flesh, walls were broken and glass was shattered.
I lost myself in the fight.
I don’t know how long it lasted, but for the duration I was not a person, or even an animal or a monster. I wasn’t an individual, I was simply part of the storm, which tore through the empty office building.
Pain and adrenaline raged through my entire being, as i took blow after blow, the wounds closing as fast as they were opened. I gave as good as I got, but the other beast healed as fast as I did.
The storm might have raged for hours, when we clashed against each other once more. We were locked in the monstrous equivalent of a hug. Both trying to claw and bite the other, while preventing the other from maiming us.
The other one was strong, fierce and fearles. Any mortal man who had dared to stand against her would surely have died. But I was just like her, except i was bigger.
I pushed and she pushed back, but I had physics on my side, and the floor screeched as her claws dragged over it. I planted my feet and threw my weight forward, heaving her into the air and across the room.
She crashed into a wal, and tore through it like it was paper. Dust and pieces of drywall hang in the air as she rose to her feet with a snarl.
I was ready to pounce on her again, but before I could a small shape jumped onto her back. She thrashed around and clawed at her new attacker.
I paused, confused.
The newcomer was no threat to her. Scent rold me clearly that it was a human, a small unthreatening being. We had been beating eachother with the funll force of an avalance, and none of that had left visible marks on us. What could this mortal possibly achieve.
With a whipping movement, the human thre a thin line across my opponent’s neck and tightened it. The flimsy strand of metal should have broken under the muscles in her neck, but it didn’t.
Instead she spasmed wildly, and fell to one knee. She tried to roar, but all that came was a gargling sound and she seemed to fade away and diminish in size.
Somehow the human had beaten my opponent, and taken my fight from me. I growled a long warning, as I moved closer to him. She had been magnificent, a true challenge to my power. And he had toppled her.
Now I would tear him asunder to prove my might instead. My former foe had shrunken to be smaller than the human now. She looked just like one of his kind, but my nose tod a different story. I could smell the moon’s power on her, and the will of a beast in her.
She flopped to one side and he placed her gently on the floor, securing the strand of metal around her neck. I sprang forward, ready to slice him open with my claws. He jerked to one side and I crashed into a wall.
I whirled to face him and he flung something at my head. I was to fast for him, and my claws caught his attack befor it could find his mark.
The a strange sensation settled over me. The moon seemed to leave my skin, or at least withdraw enough that I could feel my own mind again. The world changed around me, everything growing bigger and my beast faded back enough that I could control my own hands, and think over what had just happened.
I looked down into my hands, and saw my grandfathers watch, the silver casing glimering in the moonlight. The chain was missing, but I found it when I turned to look at the other monster.
It was not a monster anymore, but a girl in her early twenties. Blonde, slender and completely naked, except for the silver chain wrapped around her neck. Melanie seemed almost peaceful as she lay there. The tranformation from beast and back to human had take a lot out of her. She seemed unaware of the world around her, completely taken over by fatigue.
I felt my own legs wobble, and sank into a sitting position. I cradled the watch and listened to it’s ticking. Slowly my breath became stady and my heart found it’s rythm. I just sat there for a while, rediscovering my own mind.
“What the hell was that?” Jim asked as he plopped down next to me.
I shot him a sideways galnce.
“You’re not a dumb guy Jim, what do you think it was?”
“You keep glancing at the moon nervously, you turned into a hairy monster, silver brought you back..”
“Just say it.”
“You’re a werewolf?”
“Melanie too.”
“Well that’s it, I’ve officially lost it.”
I shook my head.
“Or maybe you’ve just learned something amazing.”
“Wow, you’re really optimistic.”
“You should be too.” I grinned at him. “You just saw two real life werewolves and you didn’t get eaten alive.”
“Fair point.” He ran both hands over his hair in a nervouus gesture. “I think I’ll need you to explain all this again.”
“What do you need to know?”
“My friends got bitten by her…” He avoided looking at me, opting instead to look at the moon. “Are they goin to…”
“Turn in to wolves?” I chuckled. “Mathematically speaking, if that was the case, we would all be wolves by now.”
“That’s a no?”
“Lycantropy is not contagious.” I thought it over. “Though some werewolves do have rabies.”
“That isn’t making me feel better.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I placed a hand on his shoulder and looked at the moon as I spoke. “Melanie has not been out much. She lived a pretty sheltered life until a year ago.”
“What happened then?”
“Her father finally admitted that she needed help.”
“Help?”
“Someone to teach her to control the beast, and to live with it, to adjust to sharing her mind with a ruthless predator.”
“And you offered to help?”
I smiled.
“They offered to pay me for it.”
“Wow, that’s a little cold.”
“Says the kidnapper?”
He cleared his throat and opted to not comment.
“I know melanies uncle, so he reached out to me. Melanie isn’t my first student, but she was pretty old when I got in contact with her, so she can be unstable.”
“Her uncle knows about…”
“Werewolves?” I nodded. “On a very personal level.”
“Wait, he’s also…”
“A lycantrope. Yes.” I turned to look straight at him. “It is always bound to a bloodline. Though it skips generations, sometimes enough to be completely forgotten. It doesn’t behave like any other hereditory trait, but it seems to be a family thing. My grandfather was also a lycantrope, he taught me all I know.”
For a long while Jim was silent, just absorbing the information.
“What’re you going to do now?” He asked.
“I’m going to take Melanie back to her family. As long as you do not try to stop me, I see no reason to mention you or your freinds. But please, try not to kidnap any more teenagers in the future.”
“Yeah…” He ran his hands through his hair again. “Probably for the best.”
“Well, If you are out of questions...” I looked at him awaiting his answer.
“I think I’m good.”
“Just one last request.” I looked down at my own naked body. “Could you grab me a change of clothes from my car?”

[jseah]

1592 words for the HP fanfic.

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Hermione considered the words and nodded, "something like that. "
"And what did this bully look like?"
"Her name was Edgecombe. And she was prettier than me but not as pretty as Cho, and she liked to pick on me and this odd girl one year below. She had dark hair, a slender face and figure that she liked to flaunt. She was popular but also nasty to those who she didn't like," she whispered.
"That's rather detailed," her father mused, "so she looked like Eve, maybe?"
Hermione's head shot up as she finally understood what her father was trying to imply. He thought she was going to fight that horrible girl at school?! "No, I didn't dream of fighting Eve. Edgecombe didn't look at all like her. I don't want to hurt her!"
"Kiddo, it's all right to dream. It's normal that you would be frustrated by those bullies," her father tried to reassure her, rubbing his thumbs over the back of her hands, "I know I sometimes daydream about drilling holes in the teeth of the ruder patients too. Just as long as you don't do it in real life, don't bring a knife to school I mean, it's just a dream. It's normal. "
"It's not! Edgecombe isn't like Eve at all!" Hermione cried, but she could see that her parents had already made up their minds and weren't going to listen. "I'm not dreaming of revenge! And the next three years after the competition were much more horrible than some bullies!"
She could feel her mother's concern matching her father's gaze from the front.
Her mother shushed her, "dear, I think you need a little more rest. You haven't had a nightmare this bad since you were four. Why don't you read your favourite Tolkien novel again and relax for a day?"
That was it, they were stuck with their silly dream interpretation and anything Hermione said would be interpreted as whining. And no, that was screaming, not whining. There was a important difference.
Fine, she would just have to find some way to make them understand. Despite the fact that her parents had always brushed her off previously, Hermione marshalled her resolve once more. This time for sure.

The girl flounced onto the living room sofa, nuzzling Milo under her chin. She had to sort out the dream memories if she wanted to be able to tell them how terrible the dream was.
She slowly paged the later memory-books, touching lightly and mentally squinting, trying to avoid the stench of fear. It worked, sort of. She had to wrap the books in the mental barriers- occlumency barriers first but it sort of worked. Hazy images, as if she was watching a movie from her own eyes played forwards rapidly, jumping between scenes and through entire pages of books in the way her own memory worked.
It was disconcerting to see it from the outside. Now that Hermione had the memory books to observe, she could see the way her actual memories were structured, the way only the important details stood out in a scene, the way the derivation of the quadratic formula was there in its entirety, not reading it line by line. The books were definitely her memory, or at least the Hermione in the dream thought, moved and felt in exactly the same way she did.
And worse, she acted believably like Hermione would if she had magic and went to a magical school. The train ride and the first few days were exactly what she had fantasized for years, going to a new place and hopefully finding friends. And then the horrible realization that even a magical world was just as bad as the real one. The part of her that was still a dreamy little kid tried to argue with her inner cynic but the cynic said that the dream was really far too realistic to be a dream and the world was always always always going to be that way to her.
She winced in sympathy every time the Edgecombe girl opened her mouth. While the occlumency barriers prevented her from suffering all the emotional turmoil of the halloween morning, Hermione knew exactly what her dream-self was feeling because she had felt it all her life in school. While she was hiding in her common room during the feast, it was right then that dream-Hermione had made the resolution that she didn't need friends if her magic was good enough and that was the start of the road that led down to bullies getting their arms burnt off.
The bullies really didn't like that she shared her traps and spells the next year with one Luna Lovegood, who Hermione had deigned to extend a little trust and was rewarded with a little friendship. It didn't go anywhere and when the petrifications began, she had better things to do. They traded spells and bully avoidance tips up until Luna had joined Harry the-chosen-one, as her dream-self liked to call him. The girl didn't return from following the clueless hero into the ministry, along with a few other casualties dream-Hermione didn't know the names of, and that was the end of any friendly human contact outside of her teachers.
After the Edgecombe Arm Incident in fourth year, her dream-self was mostly left alone except for the occasional begging for homework help. Despite her contempt for her classmates, dream-Hermione always made excuses to help them. She could tell that her dream-self was lonely, no matter how much dream-her denied it. Still, the time in the castle was almost pleasant and her memory-books began to resemble the school library.
And then the war started and the chosen one wasn't around to save them. The memory-books of the battle that killed her dripped with so much darkness and despair that Hermione could almost feel it from outside her occlumency barriers. She watched through the smallest pinprick of a hole in the protection, watched as dream-Hermione ran through corridors dodging spellfire, watched as dream-her killed one then two then ten. Watched as the final book faded into a swirl of magic and time and blood.
Hermione looked up from her review and blinked at the clock. The change in sunlight agreed with the hands, she had been reviewing her dream memories for over an hour! And despite the ever greater certainty that her dream was not about the bullies in school, Hermione couldn't find a point that she could describe to her parents that would convince them she wasn't going axe crazy on her classmates.
If only magic was real then she could prove it! If she could use magic like in her dream, if she was a witch, then there would be no question at all as to whether her nightmare was more than subconscious ramblings.
Still, almost all the magic in her dreams needed a wand. Which she did not have.
Just to be sure, Hermione dug out a long pencil from her schoolbag and waved it about. No, pencils definitely didn't qualify right? She flicked it just so and muttered, "Lumos. "
Nothing happened of course. She rubbed her flaming cheeks, feeling quite stupid even if no one was watching her.
Potions required magical materials she didn't have access to. Runes... well, she was certainly not going to go carving lines into the floor tiles, if ceramic even worked instead of stone.
And everything else was theoretical or useless outside of the magical plants and animals concerned.
Hermione flipped through the memory books again, searching for something. If all the magic conveniently didn't work without a prop, then perhaps it was some subconscious way of telling herself that... she came across a memory of practicing a wandless shield spell. Dream-Hermione waved a hand and a magical shield appeared. Huh. Why didn't she see any of those practices before?
Upon searching, she did find other wandless magic spells, which were just wandless versions of the original, but her practice in all of those cases took a small section of the memory books and had been drowned in memories of seven years of schooling. The shield spell was energy intensive and advanced for a wandless spell and so had taken almost half a year to finally get right. Dream-Hermione had ended her wandless magic study shortly after that and merely practiced to make herself faster.
Hermione blinked and waved her hand. Still nothing happened. But there was a twisting sense of wrongness, as if she knew she was doing it the wrong way.
She closed her eyes and went back to the idealized memory again. There, she had to call up her magic.
"Accio The Hobbit!" she said confidently. Her favourite book, with all its creases and the smell of its pages, called up to her mind. With a surge of magic from somewhere inside her, Hermione pushed her intention into the spell, letting the wave of magic crest outwards to search for the target.
Then there was a thump from upstairs and the book came zooming down the stairs into the living room before smacking into her waiting palm.
The girl stared at the book.
She realized that she still had absolutely no idea what to say to her parents.

[Lycunadari]

Picture time!

Spoiler: They look delicious, but are not ripe yet :(

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Spoiler: Nature pic

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Spoiler: Nature pic

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Spoiler: Nature pic

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Spoiler: Nature pic

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Spoiler: Nature pic

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Spoiler: Everybody likes cat pictures, right?

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Spoiler: Toe beans

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[Glass Mouse]

Kitty!!

As for me, last week I actually did enough rpg writing but was distracted by a friend in relationship crisis and forgot to upload. This week, however, I just plain don't pass. 335 measly words is what I've managed (still better than nothing!).

Here's hoping the writer's block lifts once I'm out of crunch mode at work.

[Lycunadari]

Status for August 7 - August 13!


Glass Mouse wrote 335 words of rpg writing.

Lycunadari passes with six nature photos and three cat photos.

jseah passes with 1592 words of Harry Potter fanfiction.

Xiander passes with 1991 words of A Moon Over Me.


Thus Glass Mouse FAILS this round!

Lycunadari, jseah and Xiander PASS this round!


Current standing:

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Glass Mouse
Current run: -
Longest run: 290 weeks
Themes: -

Lycunadari
Current run: 240 weeks
Longest run: -
Themes: -

jseah
Current Run: 79 weeks
Longest Run: 33 weeks
Themes: -

Xiander
Current run: 58 weeks
Longest run: -
Themes: -




LeSwordfish
Longest run: 44 weeks

Icewalker
Longest run: 31 weeks

Lovely Vulcan
Longest run: 3

With a 1991 word installment this week, I finally reached the end of A moon over me.

Congrats!

Kitty!!

As for me, last week I actually did enough rpg writing but was distracted by a friend in relationship crisis and forgot to upload. This week, however, I just plain don't pass. 335 measly words is what I've managed (still better than nothing!).

Here's hoping the writer's block lifts once I'm out of crunch mode at work.

I hope your friend feels better!

[Xiander]

Sheesh!
I was worried I wouldn't make it this time. But here I am with 1569 words on a new story.

Spoiler: Stealing time, part one

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She found him under the apple tree, afterwards, when it was all done, and there was no going back. Leaning back and basking in the late summer heat, he was playing that stupid flute of his, like he didn’t have a care in the world.
For a long while she just watched him play. His eyes closed, mind completely envelloped in the music. She had always thought him small, frail almost. Still, he maid up for that supposed weakness with his skillful hands. Nothing showed more clearly how nimble his fingers were, than the complex motions they made perfectly when he played the flute.
“I told you music is for women and circus folk.” She said, as the song ended.
“Vala.” He sounded unsurprised, as he opened his eyes and brushed chestnut hair aside.
“Gin.” She nodded in greeting. “Don’t you have anything better to do, than loaf under this tree making sounds with a noisy stick?”
“What could be better than this Vala?” He put the flute to his lips and played a short sequence, to underscore his point.
“I prefer getting things done.”
“You are always in such a hurry.” He said smiling. “I thought we were done running now.”

Suddenly she was back in the tunnels under the black castle. Darkness swam around her, and a stench of dead air and filth stung in her nostrils. The meagre light afforden by Williams torch was just enough to avoid tripping and breaking her neck.
“Run!” Whezed Camille to her left.
She heard it then, the sound of a thousand beings in the dark swarming after them, ready to devour the meat off their bones.
Gin took Camille’s suggestion without hesitation, and sped of into the darkness ahead. Those wierd eyes of his, letting him abandon the light as he could see perfectly well without it.
Following her own advice, Camille jumped forward picking up her pace and fleing the monsters in the dark. To Vala’s right, Wiliam stood frozen, holding the torch and looking frightened.
There was no time for that now, so Vala grabbed him and lifted him off the floor, setting off at a sprint.
He let out a yelp and despearately tried to hold the torch away from her, to avoid setting her on fire. She ignored him and focused on running. The thousands of creatures behind her would not pause to let them sort out their light situation.
Even carrying William, she was faster than Camille, and she soon saw the other woman ahead of her. Cathcing up quick, she was running side by side with Camille, when they reached the door.
Gin was holding it open, beckoning them through.
They plunged out of the dark hallway and into a large room. The lighting was not brighter in here, but at least they had a door to put between themselves and the creatures in the dark. As soon as Camille had slipped into the room, Gin slammed the door closed. There was a choir of angry screetching noises from the other side.
Vala ignored them and set down Wiliam, who brushed imaginary dirt off his chest and then looked around at the small part of the room, which was illuminated by his torch.
“Where to now?” Gin asked.
“Give a moment to collect myself.” Wiliam was winded, even though Vala had been doing all the running. His bearded face was flushed red, and he looked scared.
“Camille,” Vala said calmly. “Could you give us some more light.
“Gladly.” Camille’s smile was earnest, she did love using her powers, even for something as basic as lighting a room.
She reached out her hands, and Vala could feel the power shimmering in the air. Only a tiny bit of it gathered around Camille’s fingertips, forming a ball of clear white light, much brighter than williams shoddy torch. The the pyromancer slammed her hands together, making William jump with shock. The ball of light split into four smaller balls, each shooting off to hang in one corner of the room.
The sharp white light gave the four a clear view of the room they were in. The floor tiles were dusty and ill kept. There was nor furniture, no doors except the one they had entered by, and no obvious ways to keep the creatures in the dark away.
Even now, Vala could hear them scraping and clawing at the door. It was only a matter of time before they would be in the room.
“A dead end?” Vala asked looking at William.
“No…” He answered, spounding worried and confused. “This should be the right way.”
“Well, it looks pretty dead to me.” Gin chimed in.
“I can try and burn those things out of our way?” Camille suggested.
“No.” Wiliam straightened and did a fair job of sounding sure of himself, for once. “I just need a moment to remember. Be quiet while I work.”
To their credit, Gin and Camille shut up at once. Vala didn’t need to be told to be quiet while Wiliam remembered, she had known him for years, she knew what he could do.
For a while he just stood there, drawing deep breaths. He wasn’t much to look at. Short and bit heavier than was probably healthy for him. His beard wild and uncombed, looking a little comical when matched with his meticulously kept clothing. Even in this deathtrap of a maze, he was dressed for a formal gala.
He started moving, making his way to the wall opposite the door. He stopped in front of it and stood there, silently looking at the bricks.
“So, what’s he doing exactly?” Gin whispered right next to her. She managed to hide her surprise, but only barely. He had moved in complete silence, and she only noticed him because he wanted her to.
“Remembering.” She mumbled.
“I thought you said none of you had been here before.” Gin pointed out.
“It is his ability.” Vala explained, in a low voice. “To remeber things that never happened to him. He is probably trying to remember the last person who was here, and what they did.”
“And what if they died at the hands of those monsters?”
“Then he’ll try the next memory.”
“That could take a while.”
“I can hear you perfectly well.” Wiliam said, as he placed a hand on the wall in front of him. Then he added in a slow, but certain voice. “There is a hidden door here.”
“Good!” Camille spoke too loudly. “Open it.”
“I cannot.” William explained. “The person I remember came from the other side. He tripped a switch in the room beyond, I do not know if it opens from this side.”
“Let me have a look at it.” Gin said, with a rougish smile. “You try to remember some good way to spend the money when we’re done here.”
William looked a little insulted but never the less yielded the spot in front of the wall to Gin. Crouching down, Gin brough out his toolbag. It was full of wierdly shaped iron implements, the use of which were completely lost on Vala.
Her attention was soon drawn somewhere else, when the door started creaking under the weight of the creature on the other side.
“Perhaps we should think of a way to hold of those things?” William suggested nervously.
“I could probaly fight them.” Vala said. “If there were ten of them...”
“But a hundred is a bit much.” William put it much gentler than she would have.
“Gentlemen, Lady.” Camille nodded at each of them as she titulated them. “Let me handle this.”
Vala and William exchanged a glance.
“What do you propose to do.” asked Wiliam.
“Make them regret it when that door breaks.” Camilles small frame and straberryblonde hair would normally make her looke cute and unfrightening, but her smile as she spoke those words made Vala think twice about ever opposing her.
“Crap.” Gin mumbled from his spot by the secret door. “This is some clever work.”
“Can you break it?” Asked william obviously nervous.
“Of course I can, just give me time.”
At that moment the door broke of one hinge and a long sinewy limb reached through the gap, grasping at the air with razor sharp claws.
“That’s my cue then.” Camille stepped towards the door hands held forward, palms up.
Again energy cracled in the air and gathered around Camille. This time it was not a little energy. It was like a storm, condensing from thin air and settling around the small blonde. With a flourish, she let the energy flow through her and into the floor, and it ros from there, like a wall of heat.
The dor broke, and fell to the floor with a crash. It slid towards Camille and caught on flame when it touched her wall of heat.
Behind it waited legions of pale sinewy creatures with long clawed limbs and no eyes. They scrabbled forward, in jerky uncoordinated motions, and somehow moved much faster than they should.
When the first one reached the barrier and caught fire, it didn’t slow the others down. They threw themselves into the wall of death with no sense and no fear.
William breathed a sigh of relief, but Vala looked to Camille and saw the strain of holding the wall of heat in place, painted clearly on her face. They did not have time.

[Lycunadari]

Will I ever get tired of taking pictures at the botanical garden? Maybe, but it won't be any time soon.

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[jseah]

1573 for two different HP fanfic ideas

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"So you say you're actually a witch and your dreams about going to a magical school are real?"
Hermione shrugged at her father's disbelieving exclamation. The four books of the Tolkien works orbiting her head was rather hard to argue against. The pudding that was stuck upside down to the ceiling and yet didn't empty itself out only added more evidence.
"Well, I wouldn't say for sure," Hermione added, "magic is definitely real and what my dream self learnt at school works. Most of it requires a wand or runes or magical materials, but I believe that if I can get those things, what I remember will work. "
"But?"
She answered her father's obvious question, "but there was one class called Divination that was all about learning how to predict the future. My dream self thought it was rubbish at first but later, when she studied the time machine, she noticed many parallels between the vision rituals or magical devices used and time magic. When you put them side by side, the parallels are obvious, but I think dream me was the only one in the castle, possibly the only one in the entire dream world, to have realized the connection between time travel and future sight. And given how the dream ended, that my dream self was trying to send herself backwards thought time..."
"You think your dream is the result of a seven years older Hermione trying to send her memories back. " Her father rubbed his face and poured another cup of coffee. Despite Hermione's alcohol worthy tale, Emma Granger had insisted the liquour cabinet firmly locked.
"Could be. Or perhaps I am a Seer. The problem with Divination class is that the Sight is some talent that is required and my dream self didn't have it. But from what she learnt, Prophecies that are always true are also always vague and metaphorical. Future visions or premonitions, the few that were verified in her years of study, were also vague and metaphorical. Perhaps my dream of a hidden magical school is a metaphor by which my Future Sight taught myself how to use magic. "
Her parents churned the twisted conclusion around in their heads. But there was no way to confirm whether the dream was real or not. Perhaps they could go find Leaky Cauldron down in London but it was a very long drive and Hermione's tale of the bigotry of the magical society made them leery of the prospect of just walking into Diagon Alley if it existed.
Someone there might take offense at the upstart "muggleborn" and curse them without legal recourse, who knew? The dream certainly said that the muggles had virtually no rights. Not that Hermione had much more than the Grangers.
They looked at each other. Metaphorical dreams that impart seven years of magical education or time travel. It was hard to say which was more believable.
Then the owl fluttered through the open window and settled on the dining table, dropping a certain letter into Hermione's empty cereal bowl.

Minerva McGonagall stepped up to the garden gate and paused as she sensed something shift inside the house. A wash of magic rolled out intangibly, undetectable even to most wizards and witches but Minerva was not a veteran of Grindelwald's War and the First Blood War for nothing.
Since she was here to introduce a muggleborn to the wizarding world, she would have normally assumed this was accidental magic. But in all her encounters of such, she had never seen accidental magic this well formed. And she had as much experience with it as it was possible to have outside of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad. The magic inside the house had a crisp taste that spoke of intentional use and shaping, it actually felt more like a fully formed charm than accidental magic.
If she didn't know better, she would have thought the Granger girl was using wandless magic.
The family would have gotten the letter a day before. This let them take the time to read it and come up with a list of questions. She knocked on the front door, preparing her usual opening lines.
The girl, one Hermione Granger, was the one to answer the door. She blinked owlishly at Minerva and said slowly, as if not believing what she was seeing, "you're the Cat Lady!"
Minerva gave her patented eyebrow quirk, not letting a single hint of her smile onto her face, "I assure you I bear no resemblance to old women who collect a menagerie-"
"No, I mean you're the lady who turns into a cat! Er... can you? Turn into a cat, that is?"
For once in her life, Minerva McGonagall was completely flummoxed. How did a muggleborn girl know that she was an animagus? She shook her head and smiled down at the child, "yes, my dear, I can. Perhaps I could speak to you and your parents? You might see a demonstration. "
She usually didn't show off her cat form as a proof of magic but it would do since this girl seemed to already know of it. The question was how she did.
The girl opened the door fully and let her into the house. "Dad and mum just finished dinner," she chattered slightly nervously as the stern educator followed her down the corridor to the living room, "so Hogwarts is real then?"
"Indeed it is," Minerva said.
The girl's parents were sitting alertly on the sofas and they appeared perfectly normal and respectable at first glance. No sign of abuse or suspicion at their daughter's magical abilities.
"So my dream is real?" the girl whispered, but not softly enough. She stood beside the sofa her parents were sitting in and looked up at Minerva, "we already know magic is real, but the whole Hogwarts thing was too much to believe in. I mean, a society of hidden wizards obsessed about blood purity? Evil wizards and monsters at school? It's too crazy to be real. "
That was not the reaction Minerva expected. The girl was shaking her head in disbelief, her parents were eyeing Minerva with some amount of suspicion.
Minerva McGonagall started off by asking what she wanted to know in the first place, "yes, magic is real, although I would like to know how you got to know that since muggleborns such as your daughter are only introduced to the magical world just before they start Hogwarts. If only to satisfy my curiousity?"
The parents just looked at the girl, who shrugged.
"Oh, that's easy!" she pointed at a glass resting on the drying rack and said, "Accio Cup!"
The wandless summoning charm sent the glass cup soaring into the girl's hand. A perfectly executed NEWT level wandless summoning charm was cast by a not-quite twelve year old girl.
Minerva blinked. "Perhaps you better explain. "

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Albus walked through the rubble of the Potter's cottage home, the little baby of the prophecy wailing in his basket.
So much death and destruction, Tom Riddle had wrought. And for what purpose? Tom never believed in the blood purity nonsense, only in his own power.
Why had Albus recommended the Fidelius? Why had Black betrayed his friends? His poor students, brilliant students lay dead in their own home, attacked just as Albus came off on the immediate response rotation.
A mistake. One more in a litany of mistakes. Two more lives and pictures to add to the grim mausolem of his errors, the phoenix's price. Albus held out his hand and summoned James's and Lily's wands to his palm, twinkling eyes hardening into a mask.
"Very well, Tom," Albus whispered into the night, "if you wish to be treated like him, I shall oblige. Welcome to the bad boys' corner. "
With a twist and a crack, the old wizard and the baby disappeared.

"The time to strike is now, Minister Bagnold," Albus said, "Voldemort is not gone. The prophecy is not yet fulfilled and not yet abeyed. His followers are still out there. Their Marks are not faded. He is not gone. "
The old wizard, flanked by Auror Moody and Crouch Snr, struck an imposing trio. Scarred and battle-hardened, Dumbledore by more than one war, the show of force was intimidating. None of them flinched when Albus said the name.
She frowned, "I don't see how, people under the Imperius have been waking all over, rumours are flying everywhere of you-know-who's defeat. Given the boy's scar, I would say the 'dark lord' has marked him as his equal and since 'neither can live while the other survives' and the boy is clearly healthy, therefore You-Know-Who must be dead. The prophecy is fulfilled. "
Albus rubbed his nosebridge and sighed, "I was present in the immediate aftermath of the attack. I saw no signs of Voldemort's body, not even remains that would have been present from the explosion. And... there are ways, dark ways, details of which I will not speak, that Voldemort might have used to linger in this mortal world even beyond death. I suspect that he might have used one of them. "
Bagnold waved a hand, "and yet the evidence seems to be that his influence is broken. What else can it be?

[Lycunadari]

Status for August 14 - August 20!


Glass Mouse didn't upload/send me anything.

Lycunadari passes with eight nature photos.

jseah passes with 1573 words of Harry Potter fanfiction.

Xiander passes with 1569 words of Stealing Time.


Thus Glass Mouse FAILS this round!

Lycunadari, jseah and Xiander PASS this round!


Current standing:

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Glass Mouse
Current run: -
Longest run: 290 weeks
Themes: -

Lycunadari
Current run: 241 weeks
Longest run: -
Themes: -

jseah
Current Run: 80 weeks
Longest Run: 33 weeks
Themes: -

Xiander
Current run: 59 weeks
Longest run: -
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LeSwordfish
Longest run: 44 weeks

Icewalker
Longest run: 31 weeks

Lovely Vulcan
Longest run: 3

[Glass Mouse]

I actually did a lot of writing this week, but it's, um, not something I'm comfortable sharing publicly. 7240 words, though.

Lycun, I'll hobble together a PM.

[Xiander]

Hey guys, I am running a bit late today, and will not be able to post this week's haul until later tonight. I will try to have it posted within the next ten hours, I hope that is within the deadline.

[Lycunadari]

I actually did a lot of writing this week, but it's, um, not something I'm comfortable sharing publicly. 7240 words, though.

Lycun, I'll hobble together a PM.

Okay.

Hey guys, I am running a bit late today, and will not be able to post this week's haul until later tonight. I will try to have it posted within the next ten hours, I hope that is within the deadline.

Don't worry about it, as long as you *create* it in time, uploading it immediately isn't that important. I usually try to make the status post during Tuesday afternoon CEST, so everyone still has time to upload on Monday anyway.

----

Picture time!

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[jseah]

1537 for the HP fanfic

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There was another crack and a tall wizened old man dressed in flowing periwinkle robes appeared in their entrance doorway.
After Hermione had explained that she had a prophetic dream of all her seven years of school and that she had spontaneously learnt magic overnight, Minerva had insisted on testing her. Hermione had borrowed the professor's wand and performed a series of charms all the way up to NEWT level, if a little shakily. The professor had speculated that her manual dexterity hadn't carried over from the dream and that if she practiced her spells a few times each, Hermione would easily be able to pass her NEWTs by the time term started. Theory was of course too easy, Hermione loved to read and having comprehensive detail of every topic and theory in your head was cheating even by Hermione standards.
When asked about the events outside of academics, however, Minerva McGonagall had paled more and more with each year's summary and after the end, she had shot up from her seat and asked that Hermione and her family remain in their house while she fetched the Headmaster Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.
And after the headmaster waved his wand over Hermione a few times, causing strange glows to cover her and runes to spin in the air, he wrinkled his brow and sighed.
"It appears that your counterpart did indeed succeed in time travel. That was no dream but a portion of your future mind sent back in time," he said gravely, "there is an accumulation of temporal energy, I suspect your counterpart tried to send her memories back in time by channeling time sand in her charm but this integrated the sand into your soul. You are very lucky, Miss Granger. "
"What do you mean lucky?" her father blurted out.
"Direct exposure to time sand usually causes a nearby space to rewind a period of time again and again, this is invariably fatal. " Her mother could not suppress a horrified gasp as she squeezed Hermione to her. Dumbledore continued, "however, in this case, it seems that despite the destruction of her time turner, the future Hermione managed to channel the energy to power a time travel effect, much like how the time turners themselves work. Unfortunately I suspect further exposure... No, allow me to test a hypothesis. "
The cat professor gave him a sharp look as he dug around in his many pockets. When he drew out a tiny hourglass on a golden chain, she gasped. It looked very familiar, dream-Hermione had spent an extraordinary amount of time in school studying just such an artifact.
"This is a Time Turner. It is fragile, so please do not drop it. Can you hold it in your hand?"
Hermione nodded and followed his instructions. Dumbledore cast his series of diagnostic charms again, summoning the glow around Hermione and the rune readout. This time, it was visibly changing.
"Indeed, it is as I suspected. The time sand exposure has placed you into a time loop, the residual temporal energy will build up in you until it reaches the same potential as when your counterpart, automatically triggering the charm and sending your memories back in time again. At the natural rate, I suspect you have about ten years, but any attempt to use a Time Turner will instantly trigger the effect. You may experience a lengthening of the loop in that case, it is hard to predict. Ask myself that question again in ten years perhaps?"
The professor glared at the headmaster who met her stern eyebrows with twinkling eyes, "Albus, this not time for jokes! Can you break the effect?"
"No. And I suspect the Department of Mysteries cannot either. There are a few storage cabinets exploding repeatedly down there that have been walled off after all attempts to defeat the problem failed. "
The mood turned sombre after that. Dumbledore wasn't finished however, "on the other hand, you are again extremely lucky. Your future memories integrate into your past self as a highly compressed dream. Tell me, you did not have any problems sleeping last night, correct?"
Hermione nodded, "no, sir. "
"And your memories indicated that she had used the charm while she was dying during a battle in which she had killed multiple people and also saw many friends die. How many seventeen year olds do can be as unaffected as you are after that? Further, I do not believe you are as... disillusioned as your future self was. You are closer to a twelve year old with an extra seven years of memories, rather than a seventeen year old in a twelve year old body. Your mind is your younger self and this is a great kindness. "
"It feels like a dream, sir. The memories are vivid and horrifying but, they're like a nightmare, in a sense. Nightmares don't give you more nightmares. "
Dumbledore smiled, "in that case, we have a very valuable opportunity here. While I do not dare risk trying to replicate the events that led to your circumstances, you are in a very unique position to benefit. "
"Albus!" Minerva fairly screamed at him, "you cannot be proposing that she use her future memories! What about paradox?"
"There is no fear of that, her situation is highly benign and I believe that her memories appearing dream-like is so for a reason. After all, what is the difference between memories time travelling from the future and a perfectly accurate precognitive dream?" He gave that smile as the professor gaped at him like a dying fish, "the difference is merely a matter of perspective. I am guessing here, but I believe that time reversal effects can only take on certain forms, so her counterpart's charm was forced into one of those possible results, prophetic dreams in this case. "
Hermione could only watch mutely as the professor continued to scream, "Lexor's Time Hypothesis was never proven! Are you seriously going to risk... her on an untestable arithmantic proof?"
"I would believe that she has already tested it," Dumbledore replied confidently, "her familiarity with magic alone is already a major change, one that cannot be erased even if I were inclined to use memory charms. We are still here, ergo, she is allowed to change things. I feel we must simply treat her as a very powerful seer. Now then, Miss Granger, Mrs Granger and Mr Granger, I have a proposition for you. "
She looked up at her parents, knowing that they didn't understand what was going on. Hermione knew all the words that were bandied about because the relevant memories had lit up and explained everything to her. Of course, Lexor's Time Hypothesis made complete sense, all methods of time travel would have an impact on the past in the form of a prophesy, a closed time loop and a universal branch. But pure arithmancy theory wasn't something you wanted to bet all of space and time on.
At least, pure theory until future Hermione put it to the test.
Her father shook himself out of his stupor, "I'm sorry Dumbledore, but why should I help you? From her stories, it seems that this magic business is dangerous. If you think you're going to take my daughter and send her off to that school where she ended up dying in some war over racism, you've got another think coming!"


Hermione blinked down at the question. She didn't understand why something so simple needed to be asked at all.
"Your answer is on page 73 of last year's potions textbook. "
That done, she turned away from her classmate -what was her name again? Unimportant- and returned to her calculations. The mindscape twisted as a page long arithmantic equation describing the conceptually simple Glow Oil potion. The 'lumos' of potions. It was a step towards creating a true understanding of how potions worked in the context of all the other magic.
Now if only she could manage to understand what was going on in the Boil Cure potions...
The voices made her tune the conversation in. Almost unconsciously, Hermione had her mindscape dump the last portions of conversation into her mind, catching up to the present.
"You can determine the missing ingredient in the antidote by using the interaction tables. Just keep in mind stirring procedures for selecting the desired trait, in context of the previous ingredients. " Hermione threw in her two galleons worth. She already knew the answers of course, but they wouldn't learn if she just gave it to them.
A problem she had on the backburner thrust forward in her attention as the optimization script completed its calculations. The arithmantic runes were geometrically sensitive and she had wanted to eliminate natural instabilities; having her proud living runes ended by a simple Finite Incantatem, concentrated on a single spot or not, was just embarrassing.
In the split second it took to review the changes and start applying the changes all her runes again, Hermione had switched seamlessly back to the inane conversation about potions homework.
She sighed internally, wondering how long she would have to keep this charade up.