[PXRWC] Heartwarming Story Contest

[Noblejanobii]

Oh, that's right. My bad. Clay...breath?

I'm gonna hide now.

Crystal Meth

[AD]

@Fate
FROZE? BOI IM HO OH

[Fate]

@Fate
FROZE? BOI IM HO OH

HO, YOU FROZE

[Kentucky Fried Torchic]

Here is my entry for the contest, Since I've No Place to Go.

[K'sariya]

A little rusty on the writing front. But here's my entry:

Spoiler:

distance--

Flutter of feathers snaps brilliant yellow eyes upward, crimson nostrils flaring to suck in the scent of the approaching threat. That same air fuels the fire that begins to whisper from behind black fangs. Leathery wings pull more closely about his sleeping charge--a young woman whose head nestles into his wild mane as she sleeps. They’ve both grown used to the sharp taps of distant gunfire in the night but this, this is closer, more urgent. Eyes hone in on the small figure that swoops from the clear night sky with laser focus, a soft growl boiling up from his throat.

It doesn’t take long, however, for the tension in the draconic creature’s form to melt from its sleek body, and within moments, the flying creature offers his companion a waking nudge and an excited chirrup. He takes wing.

Slowly skyward draws the gaze of the Noivern’s sleepy companion. Pale face tilts upward to the light of the moon, the motion tugging thick green scarf from thin lips. A flicker of recognition washes over her features and then she, too, hops to her feet with a gasp, mouth sweeping into an excited smile. Rare giggle bursts from her. She jumps, waves, as she watches the Noivern join the long-awaited messenger in the sky.

Dark blue feathers streak across red down, snowy undersides flashing upward as the Swellow pulls up sharply from her calculated dive. Beak clacks cheerfully as the familiar, two-hundred pound, over-sized cat of a dragon sweeps up to meet her. She banks playfully down and to the beast’s right, then rises up behind him on the snapping updraft of his expanding leather wings.

Lillith watches the two play from below, watches their ducking and diving as they rehash the motions of a long-practiced dance between two best friends. The very sight seems to warm her cheeks against the biting winter chill. Moonlight casts their shadows crisply down onto the small forest clearing down below, the darkness like pitch against the footstep-pocked snow. Lillith pulls her worn, beige knit jacket a bit more tightly about her form, and then beckons toward their guest.

“Told you she’d come, Mimulnir,” the young woman giggles as the Swellow notes the gesture and alights in the moonlit snow beside her, favoring her right leg. Beak tucks to clip the tight string that binds the small letter to her leg, then passes it up to Lillith. Mimulnir alights heavily behind her, sweeping a warming and protective wing over them both. The embers of the nearby remains of an earlier fire crackle and simmer quietly a few feet away--he takes the opportunity to relight it with a carefully-aimed stream of fire.

Numbed fingers shake with difficulty as Lillith unravels the letter. Held within is a messy scrawl, one that jumps across the small paper in tiny print. Brown eyes squint as she struggles to read it, but slowly she begins to murmur aloud:

”Be home soon, baby, I promise the wait’ll be worth it. The front’s moving, the first time in months, and for once, we’re not on the losing side. I know the rations are tight, but feed Numi for me if you can. She deserves it. Remember: same stars, love, same stars. xoxo.”

She pulls the letter tightly against her chest and holds it there, against the ache of love and hope as she looks up at the clear night sky. Mimulnir and Numinex both shuffle more closely against her. Same stars, love, same stars.

***

Night sits heavy on the field, the dead silence nestled deeply into the vast expanse of snow. Not even the wind dares to disturb it, as if even it knows that the slightest of motion or sound will end the calm before the storm. Like groundhogs waiting for a day they don’t emerge in shadow, they hide in the foxholes dug down into the raised snowbanks that line the edges of the field. Behind them lie familiar, identical rows, pitted with minute holes, quiet as graves.

Numi flies low, as she’s been taught. The dark shadow of the Swellow sweeps low across the shadowed forest floor, then out across the old fronts and foxholes. She swings between their rising forms, not daring to pull above, hanging nearly low enough to dampen her breast feathers against the snow. The bird alights quietly behind the right of the front, settling down into the snow beside one of the holes. Sharp beak taps once, twice, three times on the snow outside, and after a few seconds, movement stirs within.

The first thing to emerge is black steel, a gun placed carefully by dark hand onto the snow. Dark-skinned woman carefully pulls herself only halfway from the hole, propping herself low on her right elbow. Small smile tugs at Sierra’s lips as she sees Numi.

“Hey, girl,” she whispers soft and low, extending her hand carefully out to sweep the Swellow close against her white uniform. Pale straps, colored for the snow, pull up across her shoulders, supporting the weight of the heavy ammo belt about her hips. Numi buries her beak into the heavy coat uniform’s white-furred hood, sparing a few loving pecks at the snow caught in her beloved companion’s coarse black hair.

It doesn’t take but a few moments before Sierra has freed Numi of her charge. On the back of the letter already delivered to Lilllith is another set of messy scrawl.

Same stars, love, same stars. Missing you. xoxo.

Sierra rereads the words. No matter how many times she heard them, they still offered her that same sense of elation, of ease. Body lowers to the snow, rolling slowly from her elbow to her back. Brown eyes stare up at the clear sky, at the milky moon and the smattering of trillions of tiny, brilliant stars. It helped to know that they looked at the same sky. Sierra pulls cold steel of the weapon to rest on her chest. Numi settles warmly against the side of her neck.

--makes the heart fonder.

[Suicune's Fire]

A little rusty on the writing front. But here's my entry:

Spoiler:

distance--

Flutter of feathers snaps brilliant yellow eyes upward, crimson nostrils flaring to suck in the scent of the approaching threat. That same air fuels the fire that begins to whisper from behind black fangs. Leathery wings pull more closely about his sleeping charge--a young woman whose head nestles into his wild mane as she sleeps. They’ve both grown used to the sharp taps of distant gunfire in the night but this, this is closer, more urgent. Eyes hone in on the small figure that swoops from the clear night sky with laser focus, a soft growl boiling up from his throat.

It doesn’t take long, however, for the tension in the draconic creature’s form to melt from its sleek body, and within moments, the flying creature offers his companion a waking nudge and an excited chirrup. He takes wing.

Slowly skyward draws the gaze of the Noivern’s sleepy companion. Pale face tilts upward to the light of the moon, the motion tugging thick green scarf from thin lips. A flicker of recognition washes over her features and then she, too, hops to her feet with a gasp, mouth sweeping into an excited smile. Rare giggle bursts from her. She jumps, waves, as she watches the Noivern join the long-awaited messenger in the sky.

Dark blue feathers streak across red down, snowy undersides flashing upward as the Swellow pulls up sharply from her calculated dive. Beak clacks cheerfully as the familiar, two-hundred pound, over-sized cat of a dragon sweeps up to meet her. She banks playfully down and to the beast’s right, then rises up behind him on the snapping updraft of his expanding leather wings.

Lillith watches the two play from below, watches their ducking and diving as they rehash the motions of a long-practiced dance between two best friends. The very sight seems to warm her cheeks against the biting winter chill. Moonlight casts their shadows crisply down onto the small forest clearing down below, the darkness like pitch against the footstep-pocked snow. Lillith pulls her worn, beige knit jacket a bit more tightly about her form, and then beckons toward their guest.

“Told you she’d come, Mimulnir,” the young woman giggles as the Swellow notes the gesture and alights in the moonlit snow beside her, favoring her right leg. Beak tucks to clip the tight string that binds the small letter to her leg, then passes it up to Lillith. Mimulnir alights heavily behind her, sweeping a warming and protective wing over them both. The embers of the nearby remains of an earlier fire crackle and simmer quietly a few feet away--he takes the opportunity to relight it with a carefully-aimed stream of fire.

Numbed fingers shake with difficulty as Lillith unravels the letter. Held within is a messy scrawl, one that jumps across the small paper in tiny print. Brown eyes squint as she struggles to read it, but slowly she begins to murmur aloud:

”Be home soon, baby, I promise the wait’ll be worth it. The front’s moving, the first time in months, and for once, we’re not on the losing side. I know the rations are tight, but feed Numi for me if you can. She deserves it. Remember: same stars, love, same stars. xoxo.”

She pulls the letter tightly against her chest and holds it there, against the ache of love and hope as she looks up at the clear night sky. Mimulnir and Numinex both shuffle more closely against her. Same stars, love, same stars.

***

Night sits heavy on the field, the dead silence nestled deeply into the vast expanse of snow. Not even the wind dares to disturb it, as if even it knows that the slightest of motion or sound will end the calm before the storm. Like groundhogs waiting for a day they don’t emerge in shadow, they hide in the foxholes dug down into the raised snowbanks that line the edges of the field. Behind them lie familiar, identical rows, pitted with minute holes, quiet as graves.

Numi flies low, as she’s been taught. The dark shadow of the Swellow sweeps low across the shadowed forest floor, then out across the old fronts and foxholes. She swings between their rising forms, not daring to pull above, hanging nearly low enough to dampen her breast feathers against the snow. The bird alights quietly behind the right of the front, settling down into the snow beside one of the holes. Sharp beak taps once, twice, three times on the snow outside, and after a few seconds, movement stirs within.

The first thing to emerge is black steel, a gun placed carefully by dark hand onto the snow. Dark-skinned woman carefully pulls herself only halfway from the hole, propping herself low on her right elbow. Small smile tugs at Sierra’s lips as she sees Numi.

“Hey, girl,” she whispers soft and low, extending her hand carefully out to sweep the Swellow close against her white uniform. Pale straps, colored for the snow, pull up across her shoulders, supporting the weight of the heavy ammo belt about her hips. Numi buries her beak into the heavy coat uniform’s white-furred hood, sparing a few loving pecks at the snow caught in her beloved companion’s coarse black hair.

It doesn’t take but a few moments before Sierra has freed Numi of her charge. On the back of the letter already delivered to Lilllith is another set of messy scrawl.

Same stars, love, same stars. Missing you. xoxo.

Sierra rereads the words. No matter how many times she heard them, they still offered her that same sense of elation, of ease. Body lowers to the snow, rolling slowly from her elbow to her back. Brown eyes stare up at the clear sky, at the milky moon and the smattering of trillions of tiny, brilliant stars. It helped to know that they looked at the same sky. Sierra pulls cold steel of the weapon to rest on her chest. Numi settles warmly against the side of her neck.

--makes the heart fonder.

Aw, what a great little story! I find your writing style really interesting; I admit, though it's quite jarring that you don't use "A" or "Her" or "The" before most of your sentences. It works for many instances ("Brown eyes stare up at the clear sky)", but for others I think it doesn't "Flutter of feathers snaps brilliant yellow eyes upward"). I could be wrong, and it could be acceptable because of the style, but I suppose I'm not used to it and it throws me off every time. xD It makes my brain think harder for sentences to make sense, if you know what I mean, so the flow of the story wasn't as smooth as it'd have been otherwise. For me, anyway. I also have no idea how to pronounce Mimulnir, though I'm guessing it's like "MIM-ool-neer."

Anyway, didn't spot any errors so nice job. :3 Pretty sad as well, but the hope and the bond is heartwarming.

[Suicune's Fire]

(Sorry for the double post.)

My story is finally done! 8D Posted in the Writer's Desk.

In the Near Future.

[Noblejanobii]

Aaaand here we go in the nick of time! Here's my entry staring the Jones brothers, Tyson and Leon, from my storylocke, Rising Smoke!

[Suicune's Fire]

@EmeraldSky When will we find out if we got 50 extra coins? :) No rush, just wondering!

[EmeraldSky]

@Suicune's Fire:

After I've had a chance to read all the stories and judge them.