To Love A Giant
By: Alexandra "Me" Mayne
A/N: "Fire" is MINE ALL MINE. So is the plot. Numair and his gang is not. Neither is King Jonny or Queen Thayet. Daine can go dig a hole and die in it.
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She limps slowly down the street, feeling the burn of ice at every footstep. She pulls tangled auburn hair out of sharp green eyes, as she concentrates on keeping her balance. She slips once, nearly falling, but is caught by a large, gentle hand, and lifted up again. She looks up to thank the kind passer-by, and is pulled into his deep, black eyes. She steps back a little, and chants a phrase in ancient Tortallan:
i'Em, fallah,
Reem tik-ka,
To-ben Miri,
Heykan barili!'/i
But it does not disappear. His hair is dark, blacker than night, and puuled back into a horsetail. He has a large nose, and a shy smile. In a midrange voice, he introduces himself. Numair Salmaalin, Mage of Tortall.
The girl stumbles back. She is maybe eighteen or ninteteen, well developed, and by no means ugly. She lifts her chin defiantly, unlike the urchins of the street, and announces her name.
"I am Tholena, Enchantress of Carthak! I come in peace, in search of sanctuary. " She hesitates for a moment, then speaks on: "My friends call me 'Fire'."
The mage Numair looks stunned, but numbly steers the lady towards a large castle.
"Come with me, I will take you to someone that will clean you up. You have sanctuary in Tortall, fear not."
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BTW: *By The Way* This is a present perfect piece of stuff. It'll get better. It was just an experiment. It'll also be normal to a certain extent too. This is my first "original" fiction, so be easy. The others are… well… Original… But…. Well… JUST TAKE IT EASY ON ME, OKAY??? ( (
By: Alexandra "Me" Mayne
A/N: "Fire" is MINE ALL MINE. So is the plot. Numair and his gang is not. Neither is King Jonny or Queen Thayet. Daine can go dig a hole and die in it.
++++++-------+++++++-------+++++++-------+++++++--------+++++++------- ++++++++
She limps slowly down the street, feeling the burn of ice at every footstep. She pulls tangled auburn hair out of sharp green eyes, as she concentrates on keeping her balance. She slips once, nearly falling, but is caught by a large, gentle hand, and lifted up again. She looks up to thank the kind passer-by, and is pulled into his deep, black eyes. She steps back a little, and chants a phrase in ancient Tortallan:
i'Em, fallah,
Reem tik-ka,
To-ben Miri,
Heykan barili!'/i
But it does not disappear. His hair is dark, blacker than night, and puuled back into a horsetail. He has a large nose, and a shy smile. In a midrange voice, he introduces himself. Numair Salmaalin, Mage of Tortall.
The girl stumbles back. She is maybe eighteen or ninteteen, well developed, and by no means ugly. She lifts her chin defiantly, unlike the urchins of the street, and announces her name.
"I am Tholena, Enchantress of Carthak! I come in peace, in search of sanctuary. " She hesitates for a moment, then speaks on: "My friends call me 'Fire'."
The mage Numair looks stunned, but numbly steers the lady towards a large castle.
"Come with me, I will take you to someone that will clean you up. You have sanctuary in Tortall, fear not."
************************************************************************
BTW: *By The Way* This is a present perfect piece of stuff. It'll get better. It was just an experiment. It'll also be normal to a certain extent too. This is my first "original" fiction, so be easy. The others are… well… Original… But…. Well… JUST TAKE IT EASY ON ME, OKAY??? ( (