The Sith storylines in SW:TOR are just too much fun for everything. XD
None too sure about the end of this chapter. Things are a bit rocky right now. We’ll see how everything pans out at the end of it all.
Chapter 7: How Long Continue reading
This one’s messy and didn’t come out right at all, and I’m too tired to make it work right now. At least I made it through. It was a bit sticky. Also I’m too distracted by my Sith lady.
I made yellow belt in karate yesterday! : D
Playing a little fast and loose with the Laws of Removing Bullets (sorry for TVTropes).
More NSFW-ness in this chapter. Does it seem like these two only talk seriously when sex is involved? Well, I guess they don’t get a lot of alone time so they need to multitask their relationship… Note this is the first time she loosens up enough to call him Zev. : )
Oh man oh man oh man I’ve been looking forward to this chapter ever since I decided Liz would fight Howe with Attack on Titan. It turned out pretty much the way I wanted it to. Liz herself has been eyeing Go Away by symphonic metal band Delain as a personal theme song. >.>
Also this one took so long to write because I wasn’t sure where I should put the chapter break, and also Cauthrien has been a pain as far as her little added scene goes. I may do editing on this later. In fact, I already want to rewrite the story and cut out large, irrelevant sections. : P
Previous chapter: Haven; next chapter: Landsmeet
Denerim
It was five days to Redcliffe – they were closer to the edge of the mountains than Elizabeth had thought – and immediately they went to Arlessa Isolde with the Ashes in their little white silk bag. A doctor and a mage from the Circle Tower took them and argued with Brother Genitivi over what should be done with them; the doctor suggested that Arl Eamon ingest the ashes, while the mage wanted to see if simply applying them to Eamon’s skin would help.
Whatever they tried, in front of all of them, the Arl frowned, his hands flexed slightly, and his eyes slowly opened. “Where am I?” he whispered, very weakly.
“Be calm, dear husband,” Isolde said, although she was on the verge of happy tears. “You have been deathly ill for a very long time. Do you remember anything?”
“I dreamed… terrible things, yet I have the feeling that at least some of it was no dream. Where is Connor? Where is our boy?” Eamon asked anxiously, his voice cracking with disuse. The doctor hastened to sit him up and offered him a glass of water.
“He lives, thank the Maker,” Isolde said. “Many awful things have happened, Eamon. I will tell you later. For now, rest, and regain your strength.” Continue reading