picked a handful of violets in my name

"It is true, I was born in the hills far to the west of this city. But I was a sickly child, afflicted with the curse that sometimes befalls my people. I had been born away from my true home and would wander the earth until I found it, or wither to nothingness. This city of Auriel is my homeland. I am not a citizen born, nor even yet sworn, but I am Paladin and this place is written on my bones."

When his blood stopped flowing, Ruth wiped the knife off in his matted blond hair and tucked in back into the sheath strapped to her thigh. Then she took out a sack of salt and a bottle of kerosene from her bag, and set about reducing the last of her vendetta to ash.

"I. Uh. I definitely went splat. It was awful. I don't think human beings are supposed to feel that level of organs going squish, I think we're supposed to die before it registers."
"And yet, you're looking remarkably well. Completely uninjured."
"Yeah. I know. I got up, lost my lunch because, seriously, awful - and anyway, the short version is that I apparently don't stay splatted any more. I hereby volunteer as self-replenishing cannon fodder, if required."

I managed to complete NaNoWriMo in November, so I need to set a new challenge for myself.

The prompts at We Are Cities are intended for bandslash, but they’re good enough that I want to use them anyway. There are over 100 prompts already posted, and more to come.

So, the resolution: whenever I feel stuck, whenever I can’t think of anything to write about, I’ll reach for one of those prompts.

My other New Year’s resolution is to have assigned last names to the characters who don’t have them yet, and to assign everyone a birthdate. Age is just a number, and the stories span years.

Originally published at Auriel. You can comment here or there.