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AlanAlan woke up with a horrible hangover and no memory of the previous night. He knew it was Michael even before finding the note on the fridge door. "I am terribly sorry" it read in Michael's shoddy and evidently drunk handwriting. As fucking if. He'd known Michael for far too long to try and like him. The flat was an absolute disaster. His head was pounding as he picked up a stray shoe from the kitchen floor. It must've been Michael's friends. They didn't have much mutual friends. For obvious reasons.
Alan dashed to the bathroom and vomited chunks of meat, looked like kebab. The vegetarian in him shivered. He had tried negotiating with Michael, but Michael really didn't care. That bastard couldn't be reasoned with over such a simple thing as a haircut. There was a woman's fake eyelash glued to the mirror. For this, he'd invite home an entire football team one night. There must be at least one all-gay football team in Edinburgh. One that does their business together.
Laughing hurt. Every
Abarak 5The port was the largest Aiden had ever seen. His head was dizzy, he knew the journey would once end, and they would arrive, but he'd never fully grasped the idea. What had for so long been blurry at the back of his mind was suddenly crystal clear right before his eyes. New ships arrived and were tied to the docks, where the goods, bought and sold, were carried in an out in boxes, barrels and chains. The carriers were tall, both men and women. The builders on the construction next to it were just the same. Humans and half-elves. Dark, pale and red hair and skin, voices speaking languages he had never heard before.
One of the carriers dropped a wooden box he was carrying, and the contents - a full load of silvery white furs - spread on the ground. A short man clad in blue velvet and black leather boots ran to him, and started screaming something in another language he did not understand. It seemed to have words of Hardig mixed into it, 'deliver', 'money', 'dog' and 'prostitut
Abarak 4It took three days before the sailors started talking about other things than the serpent, which some believed had been cursed by a witch, some that it was, indeed, a witch. As soon as the boy's mother was brought up, the captain's stern look silenced the crew. By Harom's heedful treatment the wound healed. As he checked the leg, the boy turned his head away. "Are you all right?" The man hated the way his own voice quivered. "I am missing a leg." There was something disturbingly familiar in the way his master spoke. Harom hated this. Now there was not a single step he could take without stepping wrong. The best way out was to step on the trap and take what was coming. "But how do you feel?" The boy slung his perfectly calm gaze at him as if to hit him with it. "How should I feel?"
Harom flinched and pulled his hand away as the boy suddenly twitched the leg stump he had absently rested it on. "Will it be all right?" The boy asked as if he couldn't care less. He nodded. "It will heal, th
Abarak 3As dawn arose, every trace of the night's terror was gone. The sailors began to fix the tattered ship the best they could. The captain gave them a permission to use the white wood they were shipping with them, but hadn't been seen since. He was locked into his cabin with the boy and the pale man, letting them rely to themselves of the horrors they had seen. By time they would mix together, grow out of proportions and turn unrecognisable - only another sailor legend of beasts and heroes, just one among thousands.
The city of Brethage was a massive structure housing thousands of people and thousands of elves. It had been born as a port town, a simple fishing hamlet by the sea, and grown and spread from there on, to a harbour to ship goods from the east to west and west to east, necessities of the poor and the exotic goods of the rich. As it grew it begun to degenerate, becoming the filthy, fat beast it was today, only working to support itself. Summer had already begun to fade, but some
Nine TimesI saw him nine times.
The first time we were both sitting in the room together, getting ready to take the math test that would determine our placement. I was scatterbrained and throwing things around, trying to find the pencils that I had known I would need but had still just tossed in my purse. He was lounging backwards in his chair, looking for all the world as though he didn’t have a single care in the world, including the upcoming test. It annoyed me, that I was frantic and ready to scream, while someone else could be that relaxed.
I tested out of the class.
I don’t know if he did.
The second time I saw him, it was a few months after I arrived on campus. He was the one rushing and frantic this time, running across the square. He was probably late for class, though I had no way of knowing for sure. I was already lost in my own thoughts and ideas, deciding on my major and convincing people that yes, this is what I really want to do with my life. If they weren
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