Prompt: Candlelight

Helen's fingers moved swiftly in the flickering light of the candles. She was determined to finish. She's never made, let alone worn, anything so daring before. Yet, when she saw a similar outfit on display in the tailor window on the District Promenade, she knew she had to have something like it.

The candlelight flickered across the golden threads she was embroidering with, across the pages of her sketchbook where the pattern was carefully replicated. She knew her mother would never approve her leaving the house in the design.

But... what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her... right?

Prompt: Oath

“Lightbringer Delma implied you had an oath. What is it?”

“I will not torture.”

“Not even when it's employment may be a vital tactic?”

“I am sure you have agents who cannot craft explosives or firearms. Use me for my strengths, let others use theirs.”

“Bold words for an initiate.”

“Words of one who knows themselves and knows orders cannot account for everything.”

“Yes, Delma said you do not follow orders implicitly and without question.”

“If it is a problem-”

“No, agent. It is not.”

((Drabble based on how I picture Callista's 'interview' for rising from initiate to the agent rank went over.
Lightbringer Delma was Callista's mentor/introduction to the Order.
Who is addressing Callista? Well, I'm afraid that is classified.
I also think Delma's review on Callista would have been very interesting.))

Prompt: Muffins

Deoir tore a small piece off, eating the banana muffin slowly as she wrote in her notebook.

One of her minions scuttled onto the table, it's croaking chatter almost buzzing as it snuffled around. Deoir flicked her fingers to shoo it off as it neared her breakfast. It deterred the minion for a few moments, but the creature returned, thinking it's creeping approach would go unnoticed. Enough was enough, and Deoir pushed it off the tabletop. It fell on the floor with a thump and screeched a complaint.

“Be glad I did not disembody you, my pet.”

Prompt: At an Impasse

“Jormag ain't no Spirit 'a the Wild, Finn.”

Finn smirked disdainfully. “Ye still dreamin' o' bein' a shaman, tiny sister?” Caedyn's fists and jaw clenched silently. “Can't be that, so ye thinks be joinin' up with better fighters. Can't be hunting a dragon on yer own, can ye?”

Caedyn snarled back. “I'd like ta see ye try and make it inna Vigil.”

Finn snorted. “ 'Tis for weaklings, Cae. Yer just lost to the old ways. The right ways.”

Pulling her punches, Caedyn threw only words as she left. “I ain't ta one lost."

Prompt: Deepest, Darkest Fear

Returning home, where things were warm and happy, nearly made Zaree forget Scarlet and her tower. It was in her sleep, that the last of the toxins in her system had their fun.

She awake from a nightmare, clutching Pyre to her chest and looking around in fright. No, the house wasn't on fire. She checked with a yawning Sunana, who sniffed the hall to assure her all was well. Family safe. Still, Zaree cuddled for a while with her griffon plush and Sunana as Scarlet's voice echoed in her head. “I know what it is you fear!”

Prompt: Introspection

“But- My Lady, if you just got to know her, yo-”

“I certainly shall not.” The fierce-faced Countess glared severely at Diana. “Nor shall I permit my daughter to be in the presence of that creature. You may risk your own child, Diana, but do not drag the family into your folly. Good Day!” With a swish of skirts, the Countess barely took her leave.

Diana sighed, trying to find a logical way to suit her actions and beliefs with preventing a break in the family. One thing she was sure of: Callista would remain a friend.


((Diana is speaking with Countess Julie Eldmere, Helen's mother and head of the family House.
Julie has confronted Diana about the reports that she has been receiving that Diana has hosted a charr guest in her home. If you hadn't guessed, the majority of elders in the Eldmere House hold some prejudiced views dating back to their Acalonian heritage in regards to the charr.))

Prompt: Madness

“Have you heard Scarlet Briar's claim to have seen the Alchemy?” Blinna squeaked.

Teekla rubbed her temple as she continued typing in her database. “I have.”

“Well... don't you want to know how? See it for yourself? Prove all your theories definitively?”

“Considering Briar appears to be using portals to alternate dimensions, I think there is ample proof for my theories without plunging myself into a similar madness.”

“Wait... she's what?”

Teekla sighed. “Nevermind.”

Prompt: Missing Someone

Seneca rubbed over the worn letter, refolded so many times the creases were starting to tear. The last letter from Khaal before she had received the MIA report.

“Is that from Clallisa?”

Seneca tucked away the page and walked over to stroke Tychus' head. “I thought you were asleep Lil' Soldier.”

“I miss Patch. And you looked sad, like me, so I thought maybe you missed your friend too.”

Seneca smiled warmly and stroked the cub's ears. “Well, we'll just have to write Patch a letter in the morning. Would you like another story?”

Tychus nodded.

Prompt: Chivalry

“One day, I will be a great hero, just like the first Lady Eldmere!”

Helen remembered saying those words when she was only eight. Now on the brink of sixteen, it seemed like she might finally have her chance. She listened to her cousin's odd plant friend with eager interest. “So, you have a chivalric guild, is that what you said?”

“Oh yes!” The sylvari bounced on the balls of her feet. “We're called the Lanterns! And we help people and fight bad guys and do everything nice and right, you know!”

“Can I join?”

Prompt: Shattered

Caedyn brought her sword cleaving down, but the shaman charr blocked her strike. His claws grated the blade, sending tendrils of fire racing into the tempered steel. Caedyn yanked the weapon free before they reached the hilt. The fires faded the moment the blade raked out of his claws. The shaman smirked at her flinch and Caedyn's blood boiled. With a yell, she swung at him again.

He met her this time. Staff locked with sword in a great clash. But it wasn't just the sound that died away. Caedyn's sword, made brittle with the shaman's trickery, shattered.

Prompt: Misinformed

The little kit lay quietly, listening to the voices of Seneca and Onyx in the candlelight. It was one of a few nights when she did so, unable to find sleep even in her weary recovery. Later on, she would remember bits and pieces of their conversations.

Speculation was distorted to truths about herself. So, later, when Grax told her she was pregnant, she dismissed it as impossible. It took some gentle, adamant conviction to make her realize she was misinformed. That she was as able to possibly bear cubs as any other female charr.

Prompt: Mute

“Welcome, sapling.”

Deoir was so tired of that greeting that she ignored the speaker entirely. The sylvari's brow furrowed at her lack of a response.

“Don't mind her!” Offered a sister who had awoken minutes after Deoir. “She hasn't spoken yet!”

“Oh,” a wave of compassion poured out like a tide. “Shall I send for a mender? They are our heal-”

“No. Thank you.” Deoir interrupted, annoyed that her lack of gibberish chatter was being treated like an abnormality. She walked past their startled, disapproving looks, determined to get this orientation over with quickly.

Prompt: Survival

That first week of battle on the Brand was devastating. The Flint convoy lost several warmates, including Seneca's fahrar mates Harvest and Medge. After 43 years, the group of charr who had bonded as cubs were down to three: Braun, Markus, and Seneca.

A younger, newer Flint approached Seneca as they made camp. Battle fatigued and dispirited, he asked her how she'd survived for so long. Seneca pushed aside her own feelings of loss and pain to respond with humor. “Oh, one part luck, two parts good equipment, but mostly just having a damn fine warband at your back.”

Prompt: Berserk

It had been a handful of years ago that the old section by the Gladium Canton had been expanded for the growing numbers of plebeians using the area. Old abandoned alleys and storage bunkers that had stood vacant for years. They were of no particular interest to Citadel residents. Even Callista had told her, “It is just a place, Senna. It holds no more terrors than its destruction will end memories.”

Still, Seneca relished demolishing one particular unit. Markus eyed her with bemusement when she stepped back, panting with exertion. “Hellfires, Senna. You're going berserk with that sledgehammer.”

Prompt: Frivolous Purchase

Teekla was normally rather practical in her purchases. That isn't to say that she didn't have fine tastes. On the contrary, she preferred finely tailored clothes, quality supplies for her works, and good food.

But, she did have a soft spot for masks. And, despite the fact she rarely wore the accessories, there were occasions where she came across a particularly aesthetically-pleasing specimen that she could not resist.

Prompt: Reluctance

Even when she gained the respect of her fahrar mates, who would come to look at her as Legionnaire of their warband, she was more acquaintance than friend.

So it was a new experience to have someone so eager to spend time with her. She thought she might lose his friendship when she turned down his first offer of being her mate. Yet, he stood fast in the face of her demurrals and reluctance. Over time, he convinced her to open up and pushed her doubts that she would be a good mate away.

Prompt: Blueberry!

“I'm so sorry, my Lady!” The servant apologized repeatedly as he cleaned the mess from the spilled tray.

“I'm- it is alright.” Helen replied meekly.

“It is a blessing that your dress is a dark purple already, thank the Six for small fortunes.” remarked one of the guests near Helen. Lady Bethsha, if she remembered correctly.

Helen looked down at the spattering of blueberry tart on her dress. “I- I should head home. To change. Ex-excuse me!” She stuttered nervously and barely remembered to dip in a slight curtsey before she fled the party.

Prompt: Fishing

The Lionguards looked around the vessel once again. The Lieutenant suspicious of reports linking a similar ship to suspicious activities. However, in all appearances, it was as the elderly captain said. Nets and fish were heavy on the ship, the crew ragged from a day's work.

“I- I ain't mean to be rushing your fine men, no sir. But you see, I best be sellin' my fish a'fore they go all foul.” The old fellow coughed and trembled with age. “Ya understand, I'm sure.”

The Lionguards left soon after, leaving a mischievious Mazu grinning behind her fisherman disguise.