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neonthewrite:

This one … got lost in my inbox. I’m sorry. It was on my main blog and I told myself however many months ago that I’d need to bring it over here and … heckin forgot.

But on to the question!

Bowman’s bed, like most wood sprite beds, is shaped right out of the floor and wall of his room. Since the wood sprites shape their houses out of the living tree branches and trunks, it’s made entirely of living wood and somewhat conforms to the shape of the wood grain. It has a divot in it for a cotton-stuffed mattress and his blankets, making a sort of raised nest.

A Song of Awakening: Illustrated

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neonthewrite:

Elias plopped himself down to a seat on the stylized glass pattern of a flower petal and dug around one of the inner pockets of his jacket. While he searched, Eral turned to view the city around them. For a being so small, everything around them outsized him, but from up there the houses looked miniature.

“So what’re we-” he turned back to see that Elias had retrieved a worn reed flute from his jacket. The pixie rolled his eyes. “What are you doing with that? Is this really the time?”

Elias brushed a hand back through his flame red hair, a contrast to his brown skin. Once he was suitably mussed, he pointed the flute at Eral. “It is exactly the time, my friend. Believe me, I know time, it’s all mum ever talks about if anyone’s listening, y’know.”

Eral shot him a flat look and kicked at the flute. Elias, predicting the move, pulled the instrument away and snickered when the miss threw Eral off balance. “Fine. What’s the plan?”

“For now, Mageslayer,” Elias began with a smirk in his tone, “you just listen to the show. When I’m done, stuff can happen.”

Then, without more setup, Elias closed his eyes and started to play.

It was a slow tune at first, like he was testing out the sound of the instrument he’d had for years. Eral drifted in the air near the wandering bard’s head while he played, admittedly captivated by the husky sound of the flute. Even he could tell when magic was weaving into the notes, slowly and carefully.

Elias was about to work something huge from the top of that tower.

Soooo I got a surprise from @nightmares06 for Christmas! A scene from my Song of Awakening drawn by @dtv-art and I love this so much @o@ I’m this close to gluing my face to the screen to keep staring at it oh my God. Thank you so much for this, and here it is for the whole world to see!

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January 23rd excerpt:

Sam didn’t notice at first that Stan had vanished from the top of the pocket, so intrigued by the story in the book was he. It wasn’t until he’d reached well over halfway that he glanced down to find Stan gone.

Concerned, Sam nudged open the flap of his pocket to see inside, spotting Stan in his ragged clothing curled up inside, fast asleep. The amount of trust invested in them by the little guy hit Sam all at once. Stan had no control over what happened to him, yet he was slumbering peacefully away, his face relaxed.

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January 21st excerpt:

Sam hummed thoughtfully as he tore the wrapper in half, breaking off a small piece of the granola bar to hold up for Stan.

Seeing the offered food, Stan reached out to take it from the massive fingers belonging to Sam. His armpits over the edge of the pocket held him in place as he nibbled, grateful for the snack as it seemed that they wouldn’t be stopping for a while. If there was one thing Stan knew, it was when a long car ride was imminent.

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January 20th excerpt:

“Can I go back down now?” With the book tucked away and Sam dealing with the others, planning to meet back up with Dean in five minutes, Stan figured he ought to be hidden in the pocket once again. However, he didn’t want to just drop out if Sam expected to continue the conversation at all.

“Uh, sure,” Sam said, distracted and vaguely surprised by the question. “You don’t need to ask.”

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Motel Sprites: Part 6

( Start from here! )

“Dean!” Sam called out, diving to grab the hook anchored to the top of the table. With all the movement going on, all he could see was the hook slipping from where it rested in a crack in the worn wood grain.

With one tiny person swinging on a thread and brandishing a knife at him and another one appearing on the table and diving towards the edge, Jacob balked. His hands remained under the one who was climbing, but only just, as he focused for a moment on the other. Tiny hands, perfect imitations of the much larger hands of a human, gripped the little fish hook so it wouldn’t lose its purchase on the edge of the table. A fish hook.

“No way,” Jacob muttered, watching the little person for a moment before turning his gaze back to the other one. This guy had a glare on his face that couldn’t be mistaken no matter how small it was.

The little knife glinted in the light as the man swung back and forth on his thread, and Jacob realized they didn’t look much like the sprites he knew. Aside from the climbing, they both had bags hanging on their shoulders, and their jackets looked closer to human design than wood sprite. He did a double take between them, lingering on the hook to make sure the little guy on the table wasn’t about to drop it or go tipping over the side.

Finally, Jacob tilted his head to get a better look at the one who determinedly held a knife out while clinging to the thread with only one hand. That by itself took the kind of strength that most wood sprites simply didn’t have. Jacob eyed the little hand, but then noticed the texture of the jacket the little guy wore.

“Is that leather? ” he asked, one hand moving up from where it hovered a few inches under the little guy. He kept it out of range of the tiny knife, like he was guarding a candle. When he thought he had an opening, he brushed a fingertip over the back of the jacket before backing off again. He didn’t want to upset his balance.

Jacob was baffled and fascinated all at once. “Well, you’re not wood sprites, that’s for sure.”

“What are you–” Dean didn’t know what to react to first. He swung his arm defensively backwards, where he’d felt a large finger graze his jacket. “Do I look like Tinkerbell?!”

The action of trying to strike at the offending hand sent his thread swinging in a new direction. Up above, Sam’s grip tightened on the hook as it threatened to slip from its spot. “Dean, stop moving!” he called down in warning. If the hook fell, Dean might not get hurt, but he would definitely get a one-way trip into the human’s hand. That… would end badly for one of them. Maybe Dean, maybe the human if his hand got sliced to ribbons by Dean’s silver knife.

Dean returned his hand to the thread to anchor himself, his boots pinching the thread for stability. He’d given up on any hope of progress while under such scrutiny. “Unless I’ve got a set of wings I never noticed, wrong friggin’ guess, Godzilla!” he snapped in annoyance.

Dean is just… in the worst place for an argument here XD

Let us know what you think is going to happen! More to come soon!