Terms and Conditions . . . FANFICS?

Hey, so. I have decided to keep on writing posts, like obviously, under the tag “Shattered Reality”. But I will no longer be doing any sneak-peeks. That is, because I wish to have my work showcased only on Wattpad, for a few private reasons, therefore that is that. You are of course welcome to read the 24 chapters that ARE up and available, thought the rest is up on Wattpad.com, of course, under the username @Starry_Birdie .

Plus, I would now enjoy going through terms and conditions for SH#1. Please read this, if you wish to log in and get involved in the world of Wen. Remember, on Wattpad you may comment on every of my chapters, share, vote, promote, and follow. It is a great way to discover stories.

1. No Fake Consiliis?
As much as I love to have gone over the 1.3K, highly anticipated number of views and 300 votes, I do not — cannot, will not and shall not — bare with any type of going-ons happening in Consilii, or any other part of the Little Planet and its universe that has not been written by me. If it’s clearly a fanfic, then pray state it in bold letters on the cover of your tale.

2. Fan-fictions WHERE?
If, at any point, you think of my story worth mimicking, meaning, being written about as a fanfic, then please display it on fanfictions.net or Wattpad.com ... I cannot give valid reasons for this, however I kindly ask that you follow the rules and do not display them anywhere else. The end.

3. The last STRAW?
If any of the above happen, I shall have to report. That would would be the last straw for me and for you. I would report. Second-last line: not to be transmitted, reproduced, et cetera. Bottom line? Thank you, for reading my book. I appreciate. Now, go little BIRDIE, fly, write a fanfiction for me, but no inappropriate talk. Be specific who the author is. Truly. Bye.

I’M giving . . . wHaT another go? (Listen to your teacher)

About September last year I gave Pride and Prejudice a read and, honestly, did not like it. To me, the sentences were plain (hard) and the plot did not move so fast. However, my Year 5 teacher, and by far one of my two favourites, encouraged me to give it my all — in other words, another go. I dismissed the idea for over seven months, and now, went to the bookstore . . . I looked through classics, books by Oscar Wilde, Arthur Conan Doyle, Mark Twain, the Bronte sisters. . . I saw the cover of Emma and Pride and Prejudice alongside Sense and Sensibility. I affectionately sniffed the pages of P&P, decided to buy it (the previous time I tried reading, I borrowed the book from a family friend) , then gazed at what seemed like a volume half the size of P&P.

“This will be an easier read, I suppose. It’s smaller, if I don’t like it I don’t have to read more. Just got to get through the relatively-thin book.” It’s a small volume, and I don’t mean that 200+ pages isn’t much (which, in my opinion, honestly isn’t) — rather, what I mean is it is a pocket-like paperback volume, KM Classics, and I am already 10 pages into it.

You might wonder what it’s called? Northanger Abby. So far, it reminds me of the style from The Little Women. Catherine seems like Beth to me, except that she is at first plump then slimms down, while it’s quite the opposite with seventeen-year-old Miss. Moreland. . .

Anyway, I thought I haven’t written a post for some time. It’s like a small reminder that “Hey, I’m still here!” And a thank-you to my dearest Grade 5 teacher, if you’re reading this (because I know you read my review for Little Women, I think, last year) — then please know I’m so blissfuly glad at you for finding me writing competitions, encouraging me . . . Oh, also, shoutout to another teacher, she teaches me right now, Year 6. . . Anyway. Thanks everyone whose read my stories, given me feedback or just smiled . . . Ehhem. I’m done. Yo. Buye. kids.

Shattered Reality Synopsis

She got sent to Consillii,  a continent on a planet surrounded by many others and on the other side of a fearful, black hole. With her she held a stone, a quartz, and now a Lordling wants it, to become the Lord, the King.

And he won't stop. Leading a tribe of jinns into war is a mere trifle, let alone killing two wizards and almost torturing a girl who he thinks has what it takes for him to control everything, to become the Infinite and the One. Of course, an eleven-year-old girl who just suffered the death of her best friend is capable of holding onto some pink rock, isn't she?

What Truly Matters (my entry for "Whitlam Institute Competition 2019")

What Truly Matters

“What matters to me” seems like a question worth answering. Indeed, it is. And, I am fully aware that many aspiring biologists may have written about this, for it’s a popular matter, but one that, frankly, doesn’t seem to be addressed properly. As a brief, somewhat-snappy example (bear with me, for it’s simply a “for an instance”) ... fast food cafes; they still use plastic straws, and it’s outrageous! For, not only can our beautiful planet be soon covered by a vague – but, I am afraid, still distinct – layer of plastic – it can also cause fatal deceases, and, even worse – kill the lovely animals. It might be our fault, so we should pay (isn’t that right?) but, crustaceans – sharks – whales – even land creatures – have done positively nothing wrong.

Now, first, I am to talk about how littering our planet with straws, chip packets, water-bottles and even gum (which is polymer, similar to what car tyres are made of) can affect our own mental health. Yes, if you are so inclined to save yourself from the matter that you’ve (consequently) created, then let me tell you; pollution causes a type of cancer. So, rather than throwing away your cheese-stick wrapper into the stream nearby, think – that it all will go to the ocean and you – yes, you – may experience something deadly in return. Cancer.

Now that we’ve got that covered, I wish to speak of the less-liked fish. Sure, the Angler Fish look scary, but imagine if it were you? And now try comprehend a piece of gum floating down beneath the Sunlit zone, and catching a small baby-fish in the sticky contents of its trap? Yes, now, again. Empathy. A beautiful word, eh? – and a useful one. Again, that one Fangtooth old-granny fish may die because of you.

Then, dolphins. Ah, my most favorite creatures of all! – and what wouldn’t I give to become one, at that. One of the most intelligent animals of all, and so loyal, playful, slippery (I’m a Pisces) and full of happiness. They even adapt by travelling in threes, so that if one gets injured the other two may support its’ body whilst swimming back home. They’ve done practically nothing wrong, and probably want to live their life at the fullest. But... imagine them snacking on the insides of a plastic bag or something of the sort and you aren’t as happy anymore. Please, for the godly sake of dolphins – please – pick up rubbish whenever you see it. Just an odd piece will be enough, I promise.

And lastly, probably the most-favored sea creatures (not for me, though) – turtles and sharks. They’re so different, but need the same things – though in different amounts. Yes, even the Great Whites need affection, care, and love – and who wants to think of how to try and survive every other day? What if a straw comes up one’s nostril, what then? Oh, and they also need to feed. Before, plankton fishing nets have been brought out only to be filled with wrappers, packets, containers, gum, bags – and you can help.

What’s your favorite sea animals? The flat-faced “pelican eel”? The “sarcastic fringehead” (sounds like me) Remember, you’ll be doing a favor for some kind of fortunate soul out and below the aqua shoreline. Please, do not be like the kid I saw the other day in the school yard kicking a yoghurt-container with his shoe. Be... a role model, and stand up for humankind. For dolphins.

Mindful This Month

Is there anything wrong with your story, that you would like to change? That you extremely don’t like? Makes you feel simple, like-minded, even ashamed? Well, if there’s something you’d like to change, badly, then sit down somewhere you wouldn’t be disturbed for a while, get a notebook, and write down all that you don’t like about your little novel.

Now, once you are done, list reasons why you aren’t happy with what you wrote/are writing, and, one thing at a time, think of what you may do to change/rearrange the content. Don’t feel stressed out if the parts are major to the plot, let yourself breathe. Look around, observe, smile, breathe in deeply through your mouth and exhale through your nose, feeling content at the very core. Don’t stress, decide dates for when you want to finish each step of the way, and start to work mindfully — bit by bit.

At the end of each day, collect your thoughts and decide for what you have done for your book to improve it. Don’t stress of its nothing / too little, just decide for what you’ll improve on tomorrow. Keep things going like that, and to feel energised eat, not only what you enjoy, but at least a few fruit / veggies, some carbs, and dairy, so you feel good.

Stay mindful, stay writers
— Yvonne

Ya guys like my new cover? I got it made by a user (see above) on Wattpad, and am in love! It's like glory in a new dress... nvm. So yeah, wanted to let y'all know, cos i'm super proud of this and everything, and kinda wanted to show off... sorry.. hee-hee

Guys, I know this isn’t a Sea Website or anything, but I just wanted to have my voice heard over all of this puking glitter and plastic sabotage. I know, most of you try say no to a plastic ocean, like me — I’d do ANYTHING to keep dolphins alive, btw — but... there are some who are still unconvinced. Like yesterday, I was passing by at Lunchtime in the school yard and saw a kid kicking a bit of plastic with the sole of his shoe, and I was like “HECK watcha doin’?”

Just letting y’all 140+ followers know that even bacteria, such as crustaceans, and up to our beautiful big whales — they need to feed, and even if the ocean looks clear from your point of view, there’s millions of fragments floating around down there... so... please, if you want to keep the oceans safe and going... just for the love of turtles...

Also, thanks to everyone who ain’t usin’ ‘em plastic straws, I’m so glad! But did you know, .... the pollution is also bad for humans, actually! Because, it’s important to have low and high tides — even spring tides — and especially currents of water travelling from place to place,  it if plankton nets are filled with this garbage, then what can you do?? Please, help. Save dolphins.

Also, if you don't already know this, pollution causes cancer so it's a win-win to save animals by not using plastic!

Chapter Twenty-Four Sneak-Peek

The lordling paced up and down the cabinet, every now and again looking up at the banister, shooing away at the maids in bonnets and butlers in suits. At one point he sat down into his throne, and locked the small golden gates that led to it, feeling the carpet of velvet smooth under his feet, when a little man bustled by and he called a guard to come take him to the dungeons. Feeling somewhat bored, he stretched his hand to candidly take a sip of his drum wine, slurping as he ran his spare hand through locks of red hair, steel-black eyes focusing on the feel of his tresses.

He did not appear to at all feel like an animal in a cage, as he looked up at the walls, all illustrated with him at graveyards, planting blades into necks, bloodied on the ground kissing maidens, looking like a raging storm on the battle-field, landing an arrow at a green boy's chest and... a painting much similar to another one, with him pinning a woman with her hair up in a beehive against the walls of his stone castle, in her skin-revealing dress, all bruised and sweaty from the workout but still able to push his lips against her cheek, hand gripping her backside. That was love he growled to himself. That was love at its fullest and then she hit me hard, right in the heart...

He touched his thraes (bear-like) skin cape, fingers gripping at the pink quartz intertwining at the loose fabric, velvet like his carpet. A large canvas with illustrations of him walking in an alley, so narrow three relatively-slender man could not walk abreast, with an apple-like fruit glowing bronze in his hand, heard covered by a hood, showed in front of him, much with the other deeds that he had done.

A bowl of fruit-like objects sat beside the teacup on a table of ivory, but there seemed to be something missing . . . ? Puhkinz. They were, in Earthian, much like pumpkins, — actually, they were pumpkins, except that the outsides were crisp and crusty while the insides were all orange goo, one that was not meant to be devoured, but rather left on the face for a Time or two, until it were taken off and put in the bin. Ahh. Not quite like pumpkins, but still pumpkins.

Arachphat "Arach" had, irritated, pulled at the string on the bell attached to the wall, which clipped to it, as if the rope were a cord. A ding-ding-drrrrr echoed upstairs, over the bannister, and to the left, where the kitchen was, and out of a little pebble by the string there projected a voice. "What is it, Royal Prince Arach?" The pale cheeks of the twenty-six-year-old (so to say if he were Earthian) sighed, feeling tired.

His eyebrows, previously like caterpillars (on Earth) but now smoothly cut to two slanting lines, furrowed and knotted, eyes steel-black, as he flexed his jawline, running a hand through red, unmattered hair, face chiselled, high-defined... nose was long and straight, like a Russian one (Earthian references again, bare with me), his body taught, shoulders extremely large, thighs thick, he lean and strong, back pulled and massaging his temples.

The Next Chapter Sneak-Peek

Wen curled her hands into fists, breathing deeply and out through her nose. She couldn't bare to open her mouth — maybe the vulture would snap a hand at her jawline, and what happened to Henry Withrew would happen to her... but she was just a girl with a weird last name and pale-no-good hair! One. Wen willed herself to make the first move; to show she were not weak.

"I fought your dwarf, the leader of his gang!" She seeped. "What I hate is you..." and she hook-kicked at the woman, standing up, foot landing squarely between Euginie's legs. She howled, and threw a pebble sharp and hard at Wen's spare arm, which was left sitting by her thigh, ready to act, and she sprang out with a palm in front of her, letting the small stone graze her fingers.

Blood oozed out. But I am blood... I am the Wena, I am — and then the girl tensed. She pulled back. She let her fists fall. I am no Wen. I am blood. I am Wena, and that is my name! "I am Wena of Earth, and you — shall be killed! Pathetic scum! Vulture! Call-girl..." because she'd heard her father use that word when he scolded Ksenia; she once came home, bruised and crying, and told them all why, in tears and torn and broken.

"Calv told me to come over spend a night with him, at his Papa's house, and when I came... he... said I was too bad for his son, and we got into a hell of a conversation, and then he said that... that... he would give me money if I left, and I NEED some for my car, so he gave me a thousand..."

Wena bolted for the woman. She slid down, ducking under the feet of the woman, and she could smell sweat suddenly, and felt it on her brow as she came up on the other side. Gothcha. Two. She pushed Euginie into the grave in front of them, using all her eleven-year-old might to do so. Hell, she was like a grown fourteen-year-old boy, despite her more-or-less slim figure and gentle, carefree attitude. The bull had risen, oh yes it had - and it rocked down below in her belly and roared and along with her inner master. She was... she was a Catyr.

A Catyr was a sort of creature, all scales and fins like a fish's, it's body a sort of Pom-Pom. The eyes were very small and black, glistening, moist, glazed-over. It was believed to be a creature from the stories of old - and, every night, when the crescent rose the Catyr would leap up and chew off a bit, as if it were cheese, for it was a stupid creature who was always hungry - and that explained why sometimes we could not see the moon.

Yes, Wen's soul was a Catyr - she was always hungry, but fierce, and did what she intended to, and looked not the best with her mattered curly head... but she was fine. Slim as a cat... she ducked. Swift as a Wena... and she box-blocked, with a crescent-kick ending the balance of Euginie, who had just managed to stood up and wipe away the dirt. Quiet as a snake...

But she bolted. She bolted and she ran, because she was scared and she was tired and her legs hurt and there were scars on her hands and knees, and the darned creature swiped a long stick down, below her stomach. And her hair was all a mess, of course greasy, and the dress... hell! The new Wena stripped down and faced, nude, the woman in front of her. It was a rare sight. She would never leave her ground. Not today...

She ran to get to the bag. Ran, ran swiftly - quickly - and she sighed, relieved, when she had time to put on her underwear and old flower print dress. She'd worn it at her friend's funeral. But... she'd pay her respects later!! Turning around... Euginie was close, sharp knife in hand. Where did she get that??

"Give me the pink quartz," she told Wena. Give it, or... I will slit open your throat!" The dagger had looked rather menacing, shining bright, pommel all twisted with iron of old and looking like a holy gift from a god of some sort. Especially the glow of a sort of evil magic - as if a theumaturgist - a sort of sorcerer - a necromancer - had cast some style of a spell.

Wen glared. She... had ran. She was not Wena. Just as other people like Eddy aren't even in their fanciest dreams Edda. And Ksenia would never be Kseniwe or Ksenied. And she... she wasn't Wena. She wasn't some sort of hero-girl from a cringe tv-show with an extra letter added to her name. Just as... just as... Val could be Vala. But she wouldn't DARE try be like Val. For she was not that person.

Just as she was an extrovert.

Sneak-Peek of Chapter 22, "Illys Laktle"

When Wen awoke, the two were already sitting on the ground, glaring at each other through sullen eyes, and Wen went about a "kilometre" to wash herself in the stream, and she felt the water gently hug her figure. She had found a mossy stone nearby, and as she stood, half-naked, in the blinding morning light, scrubbing at her body.

She was beginning to go through puberty, and so now had a few pimples on her forehead. At home she'd been able to wash her face with soap, but this time the girl simply kneel down and was on her knees, for she didn't want any passers-by through the grasslands to see a nude child. Damsel in distress. Oh bother.

Then, the kid put her dress back on, affectionately stroking the top part, but at the same time she thought of how she always felt more comfortable with her body when wearing shorts. Huh. She was weird, wasn't she??

And then Wen went back, but she stopped behind the Australian-wattle-like tree, holding her breath, for the two adults were bickering frightfully. At first, Wen thought it marvellous that she was like a book heroine, standing behind a big plant and listening in to a ... secretive conversation?? But the colour drained from her face when she heard the following...

"If ye don't softe' the lordling's heart, then may-bee I'll kill the gurlle," The dwarf grinned, lips curling. He touched his pocket knife at that and the woman tensed. "I don't expect ye to make 'im fall to yarr knees, bu'..."

"I understand, I'll do what I can," and then, the woman went over - knelt down, falling to her knees, and kissed the dwarf softly on his lips. Wen almost gagged. Sure, she'd seen teen movies and Game of Thrones but of course, she just couldn't endure the sight of kissing - softly as slowly, as if one's mouth were a feather or a cheese pudding.

The dwarf was surprised, but he didn't push away, and simply mumbled something. Ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew eeeeek.... I gotta punch somethinn'... the girl thought to herself in disgust. This was beyond okay, and the fact that she was here, now, overhearing - heck, seeing this thing be done - she felt helpless.

And that was when the girl crossed a meter to the South; the two couldn't see because there was a thick, vine-crept fence in front of them - where the last grave ended. Wen was still afraid - why on earth would Euginie begin to dig up a grave, and then fall asleep, and now kiss this unknown creature..? Well, the girl did not wish to guess, and she now held in between her fingers on her right arm a sort of twig. It wasn't like the ones the woman and the dwarf used - it was thick (for its' size), and knobbly, and not smooth!

But that was when the "inner bull", as Lilliane would whisper into the girl's ear when the teacher wasn't looking, when she was feeling particularly nasty - kicked in. It charged at a man holding up a red flag, and snot came out of its' nostrils but still it leaped up. And Een was like this; her eyes darkened, the little brown chestnuts, no spark in them. Her lips were suddenly a thin line, because being this inappropriate involved some sly skill, and she hated to think of that. So, if those two weirdos could cast spells with sticks, then so could Wen (she'd seen Euginie "invent" a blanket for them to sleep on)!

The girl marched swiftly in behind them, crossing back - making a U-turn by the fence - and stood, hands shaking in anticipation, eyes moist and breath caught in her throat. She choked soundlessly, clutching at her throat, and then gulped at air savagely... hopefully, the two were rather absorbed - ahem - to hear anything, and snorting and other sounds could be heard in the distance of five meters.

Now, Blodwena held the stick even tighter in her hands, and tried remembering a Latin lesson that she'd been taught about in Year Four, back when she still went to a private school (the girl had had to move as her parents lacked much money)... "Right," she told herself under her breath, thinking hard "Right... What I want to say, is - exactly - ...DECIDANT GENUA MALUM!" And she raised her stick, just as she'd seen Harry Potter do it, and spat out those words in a violent whip, each word a separate stroke.

What dear Wen had wanted to say "let them fall to their knees", which lacked the important word sua, instead she had used her last word as "malum" which was, inconveniently, an apple. Thus, as she said those words, a brussel sprout began coming out of the tip of the twig, and it stretched so long in a matter of picoseconds (in Earthian Time), that one second later everything had changed, and Wen only had to blink once to not be able to ever again witness the magic of her first spell.

In fact, apple or no apple - a spout had risen up - and out the tip of the twig - so that it looked quite funny - it had blasted out in a mass of energy and somehow managed to grasp the dwarf by his lower lip and yank it aside, so the creature howled and his toes most likely curled.

"Thffffff—" he spat out "—ease..." , but the plant only yanked more and more. Euginie stood, shaking, staring, dumbstruck, and crying. Tears streamed down her face, her hands curled and she screeched out a rude word. "—"

"Don't say it," Wen told her warningly. "I have... this... mighty thing!"

The woman glared. All previous light had gone out of her face, and she marched to Wen, fingers digging into the chin of the girl as she held up her face. "You little... insolent brat-face mahogany!" She yelled. "My baby... you ambushed him, stupid traitor!! And you aren't even the One... not the Helper... oh, it has been a mistake!"

Wen round-house kicked Euginie just below her stomach, and then shot a punch at her breasts. "What in the blood did you say??" She howled. "What in the stupid earth and this dwarf who you were being all sticky with just say? I have been waiting... I travelled across a cliff, the freaking dwarf himself bit a cord into my gums and tongue, and I still feel the metal... and I encountered red eyes two times and taught your boyfriend a lesson when suddenly you are saying that, damn, I can't serve in a castle anymore and wear clothes that are beautiful?? I want to lead this life, you... she-cat!"

Euginie stared. This was enough, this... this had crossed all limits! So, she went over

Sneak-Peek - 21st Chapter, "The Lordling's Coward"

It was the day of — (as I am not positive), and in the land of the Second of the Triplets. Morning. The sun hung above like boiled gold, not quite shiny, without its usual sheen and with bleak rays casting down heavily upon the island. This wasn't popular - in fact, the birds didn't even sing that morning, let alone the bullfrogs which did not begin with the choir and the off-tact sound-making. Children awoke with colds and mothers with children in their wombs lay upon their couches, holding stomachs and moaning frightfully.

It was nothing serious, perhaps, but men went off to work coughing and looking down and the snakes stayed hidden underneath their sacred boulders, enjoying the stones weighing them down and the cool, crisp air. Meanwhile, three beings were huddled under the lonely wâttłê tree in the graveyard, and they all slept - all but one.

Mr. Recovery and stood and stretched his legs. By Euginie there was no blood, for it all froze on her face like icing on a badly-made cake, making her features hideous. Then there was Wen, who was sleeping like a perfectly thorny devil who didn't want nobody to invade her space (drooling, body spread out over the grass and legs and arms lying across the body of the woman). However, there was something very melancholy about the child; —

I 'ever told 'er of my intenshons... i 'ever said tha' she must' die... the thought was airborne in his mind. But the dwarf just felt under his woollen jumper and produced a pocketknife. Sabres - longswords - all that sort of stuff was in Tilla, and in Ruthenium Picke, and he wouldn't even dare try using one of those. Actually, wait no; Ruthenium Picke would be for the cowards, so of course there would be all the gòœnś (items, much like guns, but rather plastic looking. And before one was killed, the other had to perform... a certain ritual... which included cutting out one's — Never mind. The cuts would be long and painful, but at least that would satisfy his lordling.

The dwarf touched his beard, feeling fingers intertwine together over the mass of the scraggly mop, and bitterly and wistfully he sighed. But the vision of his lordling - there, Dear Arachphat, with his weapon bared and his cloak of platinum trailing behind him, pink quartz shining bright, made the dwarf first look away - and then beam boldly. And she - the sacred little child chosen for the job - of the Helper - had something that he didn't. That was bad enough... very bad.

So the dwarf made his way towards the girl, thinking all the same as he brought the knife down to her lips. He would cut now - now - send the blade cutting across her face, and flesh and blood and bone would be out, with only the pathetic shell of the creature, all crust, left to be given to his lordling. He would bare his teeth and he would claw at the shell and roar and reveal bloodied teeth, with whisky stains (it's the same word both in Earthian and Consilii Language) And pieces of bannickse in between the gaps.

Now.

Now.

Now.

His honour... who was he to do this?? And suddenly the dwarf sat down on the hard surface, stunned, thinking, right hand at the side of the vest and left gripping the pocket knife. It was blunt... it would cut away slowly, and she would scream, and the lordling would be pleased. But not that way... not in the ecstatic way. No, no... at least he owed her some respect. Respect - to hear her final plea -...

"I 'ate you," he hissed to nobody in particular, and the wind whistled back. "My lordling will be prou' to 'ave me..." But then - she could make a ripple effect. Could be the first Earthian Helper. Maybe she'd save the planet from destruction? No. To think that that far back.... it'd be in a hundred baby-suns times, that's what!

"She could have a child... in fifteen baby-suns. She could be the first Earthian Lady... become an upper-er... return her pink quartz. Perhaps the damsel isn't a burglar," faintly whispered Euginie. She had quietly and tenderly laid aside the hands that'd been thrown upon her and she slid away from the body. "I feel like a mother to this child. I never had one. She pressed to me... her weight... her heat... it's all familiar to me. My senses, my spirits - I'm blooming again."

The woman stood and and suddenly she looked grotesque. The dwarf wanted to scream out. Her eyes were both unseeing, glued to skin with blood, but perhaps the darned woman could see through her lashes? Her cheeks were torn, bone showing, hair sticky and covered in... leaves, and more of the sticky red substance. Like soy sauce in Earthian.... "I can see." Euginie whispered. "With my senses, I tasted the air with the tip of my tongue and your heartbeat is a siren inside me."

The dwarf stayed still, sitting upon the ground.
She now extended out her hand, sighing, weighing him in - not with her eyes but with her ears, for she heard his breaths low and hard. "After all, I used to be your lordling's woman, do you remember not?" And suddenly the woman walked over to to the empty grave, and she selected her twig again.

Damn.... the dwarf thought. He was dumb. And then the woman pointed it at her face - which, of course, didn't take away the scars, for those were impossible to heal! - rather, all the blood was gone and the face was glistening from just being washed, as if... and the scars were lining her skin, but gone was the weak girl. And now her hair changed, too - to a golden blonde, and her eyes went to a dark and boiling red, for without the sticky substance the eyes could be opened again.

And finally did her outfit change; Euginie stood in front of the dwarf with a smug look about her torn lips, for she was in a dress like her eyes - but it was quite very revealing, with a cut going up, boldly, so that one of her legs was seen fully and and there was a large gap at her chest, collar low.

"I can go... to my dear... and he may execute you," said Euginie, beaming. "Remember all those times ago when I first came to him?" And then suddenly, the thought flashed right before the dwarf's eyes;

***

Euginie wore a dress see-through, so that the lordling could see her bra. It was like mail, except smooth like cotton, and her hair was up in a beehive. The dwarf and her were friends - long ago - and they walked through the gates of a ruined area, he remembered.

Now they were in the front yard, and as Euginie saw a handsome man standing and fighting with a gòœnś against a young green-skinned boy, who was cowering in the corner of the yard, against the iron fence, moaning, she smiled curtly.

Euginie was many years younger. She was about twenty, to count in Earthian, and she walked over to the man boldly - nonetheless. She pulled back her shoulders, and sat down on the bench, patting the seat beside herself. At first, the lordling scowled - But she flashed him the smile of a lady who knew what she was doing, and she batted her lashes so he took a seat beside her. The final "bullet" flew to the heart of the green-skinned boy, and that was how the last race of his kind was extinct.

Euginie touched the collar of the lordling and grinned. She felt his hair - touched behind his ears - and whispered something to him, lips brushing his cheek. "I want to see you, tonight, my place..." she had murmured, and the lordling surrendered.

That night he must have thought that she was quite the woman for him!! Sure, she had a beautiful body with hair like the brow of the night and straight spine and fireworks in his eyes, and she acted as a woman five years into her prime, but the lordling still kissed her back.

And the dwarf was there. He watched the last of the green kind dying, and the flirting, and everything else and how the lordling took him in and was nice. But the night Euginie left... the lordling spanked his dwarf, and he yowled, and then snake liver had been given to him on a golden platter.

***

The dwarf stroked his scraggly beard and felt his eyes going moist, so he rubbed at them and looked at Euginie again. "Wha''s there yar stick cannot do..? Aye, bu' I 'ave one myself...." and he drew out his own, and then he raised one knee, slamming fat fists unto his leg. The twig snapped. He ... he was only holding his pocket knife now, and Euginie talked to him...

"You, I say - you are the lordling's coward, and he's a cheeky bastard," she growled, prowling closer to the dwarf. On further inspection, all the twigs honestly looked more like wands; smooth, with edges rounded off, each one the colour of ivory. To cast a spell one simply had to utter the ancient Consilii words, and think of what one was trying to do, and then - mentally or not, something would happen, sending off foam - lights - sparks -... and better, all got their wands at the Shattered School, a gloomy building atop a cliff facing down unto the mouth of water. They said, time never stops...

"I... I know what yer thinking," said the dwarf quickly, and he raised his pocket knife. "If.... if I don't kill 'er...."