Miss-Stabby

Moonlight sands The boy looked up shielding his eyes from the unforgiving sun. It was held between the mountains sinking steadily and he sighed in relief, the night would be here soon and then he could begin. He looked down checking his markers. He stood upon a black square of glass, melted sands of the very desert he was standing in making arcane patterns of colour in the flat surface. Only a few minutes left, the sun less than a thumbs width above the Cradle Mountains and he patted himself down one last time. Katana and wakazashi, there. Throwing daggers and smoke bombs, there. Food pack, water bottle and blanket, there. He settled into pl

They say that when it storms the gods are fighting. The Lord of the Night and the Lady of the Dawn bare their teeth and claws and the thunder is their voice as they fight a never ending battle. How do you describe such perfect energy, the raw power of the wind as it whips your face and the sharp drops of poison as the cold rain hits your skin. The frightening roar of thunder just above your head and the way the light changes in the sky steel blue and charcoal gray above you and bright orange and purple as the storm passes so all you can see is a riot of colour. Childish delight and awed wonder mix as you are saturated to the skin, leaving you