75 Recent Deviations
Featured: Sunset Lady
Blackriver Ch 2Archie watched the owner of the farm across from him in interest – until an involuntary jerk turned his attention back to his backside.
The balding reprobate had seen better days since he commenced work with the Spymaster: the unpredictable nature of the position had left him lined and emaciated for a thirty-nine year old. He was sitting on a bush, which wasn’t the most comfortable of seating arrangements – by the feel of it, there appeared to be some sort of poison ivy in there, he thought in distress with a wary grope.
His stained jerkin and breeches clung to his sweaty armpits as he peered over the stone-wall he was hiding behind, eyeing the farmer in the check-patterned shirt.
The man was currently sprinting and roaring after his prize bull, which had launched itself in pursuit of his son a moment before. It was the most amusing thing that had happened all week.
What prevented Archie from enjoying the debacle was his own dilemma, regarding Henry Gilroy.
Dakkan 15Chapter 15
Akko panted harshly, dodging another spear of rock sent his way.
At least he had no worries about Dakkan suffering any significant damage from the blow to the head.
Standing within a roiling vortex of power, Dakkan looked fierce, growling and baring his tusks in an obvious challenge. His eyes are wild and filled with anger. Akko could hardly blame him, he’d no doubt be in a similar state in this situation.
Off to the side, Gosha and Red were in a standoff. Red has yet to attack, and Gosha had done the same, knowing Red would only go after her should she go after Dakkan. Such loyalty was not lost on her or Akko.
He turned his focus back on Dakkan as the earth beneath him heaved and split. He barely managed to get out of the way, his chest heaving, and he knew he won’t last much longer. He was much too old to be playing games like this with a youngster.
He’d tried speaking to Little Fang, but it had garnered no response.
Two more attacks came his way and he
Blackriver: Ch 1The previous March
Charlie Fitzroy was interrupted by a phone call as he pulled back from the front door of Blackriver Cottage. Trance music blared from the back of his jeans over the sound of running water: a stream, nicknamed the Blackriver after a historic oil spill, resided behind the house, lending the cottage its name – or so he’d read online.
“Hello?” he said, his accent betraying his Eton education.
Yorkshire shone in bright shades of green around Charlie, who loitered on the cottage’s gravel driveway, his shirt sleeves pushed to the elbow against the heat of the afternoon. His black hair was brushed neatly to one side – he had an important visit to make today.
“He wants me to work today?” Charlie said with a grimace, his back to the cottage.
“I told him you were meeting your birth brother this week, but you know our Andy,” Lucy said over the phone, “if he hears news he doesn’t like, he preten
Henry ran like hell.
The watchtower filled quickly with black smog. The flames had spread over the entire gardens, he found in horror, leaping out of the tower door: tongues of yellow licked the night air between billowing clouds of smoke. The tower guards lurking at the door behind him, Henry examined his ruined property.
The path stretched down before him, flanked on the left by Henry’s beloved hedge maze and ending at the doorstep of his mansion, the source of the flames. Silhouettes fled out of the windows, climbing to the ground on makeshift ladders of tied-up bed sheets and curtains. The main entrances were obstructed completely.
Henry sprinted down the path and into the maelstrom, his eyes watering amidst the smoke.
The guards chased him down the north side of the grounds past the acre-wide hedge maze, where gardeners were frantically hurling buckets of water at the burning foliage. There was no saving it, despite their efforts: the bonfire had eaten a p
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