Yeoldebard
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Thanks. It's turning out to be a very slow burn, but things promise to speed up in the twenties
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Connor dug through his bag one last time. Laptop, check. Chargers, check Spikes, check. He slipped in some extra change for the bus and a small snack for after practice. There wasn’t much more he needed. Slipping out of the bedroom, Connor grabbed a banana from the kitchen. “Heading out, Dad,” he said. “Have a good weekend,” River grunted from a leather recliner. His nose was buried in a thick book — one of his murder mysteries, by the look of the cover. “I try not to,” Connor joked. G
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Soren leaned against the blue truck, scanning the car park. Two of the Chonos had already shown up — John was sitting in the back, nose-deep in another book, and Altanchono was bouncing off the tire. But there was no sign of Kurt. The last bell had rung nearly ten minutes ago. Soren would search the school for the neko, but he had no idea what class she had last. Hopefully, she hadn’t gotten lost. Cars filed out of the park, honking and revving as they added to a traffic jam just off school pr
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Nothing a lot of practice each day won't fix.
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The fresh burn of cinnamon rested under her nose. Khurtschono lingered at the end of the hall, watching Miles hand out packets to students as they entered the practice room. She had avoided him during gym, running with John in cross-country. But there was no avoiding the elf now. One hour. She only had to make it through one hour, and then she’d be free. Who was she kidding? This was going to be a year-long disaster. And dropping orchestra was not going to happen. She would not let it happen
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“Glad to see you’re still around, Mr. Biscuits.” Laughter drowned out the chime as Connor high-fived the chest-high werewolf model by the door. The model didn’t seem too impressed by his joke, with his — definitely his; Connor could see the proof between his legs — snarling maw and outstretched paw that could tear prey to bits. But Connor knew, somewhere deep down, the plastic werewolf had a sense of humour. And he could slip out the door while everyone was still trying to figure out if they
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Thanks
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Thanks It was surprisingly difficult to find good material for that. I finally looked up exercises for greyhounds, and that seemed to do the trick.
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Altanchono waited for them outside the WolfRoom. His eyes lit up as Soren approached, and he latched onto the mage’s hand. Soren looked down at the orange neko, a small chuckle slipping out at Altanchono’s frazzled cheek fur. “Are you going to run with us?” the neko demanded. Was he going to run? Soren glanced at Kurt. Werewolves were supposed to run in the middle of the day to let out their energy safely. He’d been planning to skip as usual — third period was the only period he could slip i
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It's similar to the one in Quarian Academy, but I feel like Sam keeps things a lot looser here.
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Truly the gods were pranksters. Not only was her music teacher her mate, but he was also an elf. An old elf. “I am happy to see new faces among us this year.” The stench of lemons under Khurtschono’s nose was almost enough to drown out the elf’s scent, and she focused on maintaining control. Every werewolf in the room would smell her urges if she didn’t fight them. Part of her wanted that to happen — to get it all out in the open. She was araefael, born in wolf form. She was a wolf, not a ne
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Thanks for reading (and watching )
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Etudes swam through his head. Two days of musicians playing the same pieces over and over had numbed his mind, nearly taking all the joy of classical music from him. And Miles still wasn’t done. The fifty-year-old elf pulled into Elias Academy, his car lights sweeping over the school in the early dawn. A two-story building stood around a courtyard, a fountain bubbling quietly in the centre of a concrete walk. A janitor was busy cleaning leaves out of the water. Miles could hear a lawn mower
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Unfortunately, there are only so many ways you can get rid of wasps when you have no money
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Here's hoping they become great friends.
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Waking up with the sun was easy. Waking up before the sun was much more difficult. Soren growled at the blaring alarm beside his bedding. When that failed to shut it up, he smacked the counter until he found his phone. Blessed silence filled the cabin at the jab of a button. “Okay, Soren. Time to wake up.” His fingers pressed blindly over the phone, turning on the torch. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Soren set his feet on the chilly floor. He stood up with a long yawn. “Ste
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Yeah, it's very difficult. Lethal if not done properly. So it's better to stick with forms he understands completely.
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Thanks
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He is. Luckily, a family of werewolves recently moved in across the woods
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A cinnamon wolf waded through the Astar River. Congealing blood washed off his fur, and he dunked his head to clean his mouth. There would be no more hunting until the weekend. The river carried him toward the city. A dilapidated house flashed by, and Soren pushed toward the bank. His claws scrabbled at loose river stones before latching onto a tree root. He dragged himself out, shaking off the water as best as he could. Jade eyes swept over his surroundings, taking in sight and scent. After
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Yep! This is something of a companion story to Brothers.
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Not for the first time, Khurtschono reflected that this would be easier if she was a cellist. The neko’s calico fingers curled over the string of the morin khuur. The notes of the Khaany Duu hummed out strong and clear, reverberating through the small room, but her heart wasn’t in the song. Maybe it was the full moon. She’d been stuck in human form for a day and was close to begging for some bane. Aerafael were not meant to be cooped up for this long. Or maybe it was the instrument itself.
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Thanks I have a backlog of chapters all ready to publish, so there's more coming.
