18 December 2011


Title: Mistreatment

Author: Minerva Wu
Writing: random scene
Word Count: 1164

“What are you doing?”

Elias Gilfax turned, guilt washing over him anew.

“You’re going to kill her if you keep doing this.” Elias cringed. He didn’t want to think of it that way. He wanted to believe that Aura would forget about him and move onto someone that could actually give her the life she deserved.

Elisa obviously didn’t think that way. She was Aura’s best friend since forever; obviously she wouldn’t want her friend to be hurt. Standing in the theater aisle with the light of a lone floating candle on her, Elisa was partly masked in shadows, but where the light stuck her, golden hair shone like gold. Her skin was smooth and almost soft, belying the power of the fighter within. Every curve was a well-toned muscle. With a hemmed shawl thrown over her back and trailing along the length of her arms, she looked more like an eagle than a person. An eagle with eyes the green of the smallest summer leaf and strength and stubbornness of the thickest root. Elias mentally hit himself in self-disgust. He was probably the only boy who found his sister hot.

“I—It’s just tonight. “

“Excuses,” Elisa snapped. “I’ve been down here for almost a week and every night you’re heading off to Rebecca’s room or some other dark corner of the Chateau to make love or something perverse like that.”

“I’m not meeting with Rebecca,” he said.

“Who’s then? Have you found some other sex toy?”

“You could think better of me, Elisa,” he said, but even as he said it, he felt repulsion. He did sleep with too many women. He wasn’t always, and he wasn’t heading off to now, but that didn’t change anything.

“You broke my respect for you a year ago,” his sister replied coldly.

He flinched. He didn’t need that reminder, no matter how much his body protested that that night had been the best of his miserable years. He couldn’t defend himself and crumpled on the stage of the theater and stared at his hands.

Finally, Elisa sighed, probably out of pity more than forgiveness. She sat next to him, staring down at the instrumental pit. “Aura said she let you willingly. She isn’t that kind of person though, so I doubt that was all there is to the story.” Another pause and another sigh. “I’m not going to make you explain. It was rape any way you put it. And it’s in the past either way. There’s nothing more to say about it.” She turned to look at him for a moment before looking back at the dark pit.

“Elias, it doesn’t matter. None of it does. You’re supposed to make use of your life on Ashrieka. Not spend it murbling around in your memories and self-pity.”

“I don’t want to break her heart again,” he whispered, but it came out more as a hoarse croak.

“Whose? Aura’s? Grandmother’s? Mine?” Elisa scoffed. “Rebecca’s?”

“Aura,” he whimpered. He hated himself for everything he had done to her. Since they were young he and his group of noble friends bullied Aurasine Windrose for being of lower rank. When he was only 11 and she 10 he had nearly drowned her in the lake outside of Gilfax mansion. At 13 he’d locked her in the bathroom for a week and not let her for food out until she did all his homework, including the essay, in perfect handwriting. Later at 15 repeated the act, only this time it was in his closet; when a peer came over, he’d helped bind her to a pole so the peer could whip her for amusement. He’d forced her do most of his chores for the better part of 16 years—she was the daughter of one of their household servants, after all, and only Grandmother would think that giving noble-people chores would help develop their character and work ethic. He’d been kinder during his 17th year of life, even buying her the dress of her dreams—except at that party she was nearly killed by a group of assassins working that he’d been cajoled into working with. During the Rift Wars his bad decision had led to her being tortured for nearly three weeks. Then her captor spelled her into hunting him down for the Rift Heart he was holding, and instead of trying to break her bonds he had taken his knife and nearly sliced her apart. His insanity later led to her sacrifice. She’d woken up only a year and a half ago, on a different planet, her memories stolen from her. After that he had vowed to keep Aura safe. But since that promise he had nearly let her die at the hands of chaos-beasts, drained her energy to nil to keep himself alive, and pushed her off a skyscraper. Every time he was in need, Aura would always be there to fight at his side, to support him, to heal him, to comfort him. And he repaid her by cornering her in her room after a party one night and convincing her to sleep with him whilst he was drunk on another planet’s wine.

Elisa was waving her hand in front of his face now. “Snap out of it. You’re doing it again. No more self-pity,” she reminded.

“But what do I do?” He buried his head in his arms. “I can’t do anything for her here. I don’t have rank, money, power, nothing she doesn’t already have herself now. Why-Elisa—Why does she still love me? Does she? Why would she?”

“Elias, you sound like a whining idiot.” Elisa huffed. “Scratch that. You are a whining idiot. I haven’t the faintest idea why anyone would love you, much less a sensible person like Aura, much less after all you did to her, but whatever the reason is, she never cared about your phooey rank or power. She had me for that. As for money, if she loved for money she would have loved Japhedel Alder.

“I don’t know why she likes you so much. I doubt even she does. But the point isn’t why. It’s the fact that she does.”

“She doesn’t deserve me--”

“More like you don’t deserve her.”

“—Someone as twisted—“

“Elijiah, are those tears I see? There will be no wasting water on this ship!” Elisa’s voice suddenly swelled with command. She was standing over over him, and her voice radiated a powerful energy around her.

The imitation worked. Elias snapped to attention and out of his slump. “Sorry—“

He stopped, frozen for a moment. “That’s what Grandmo—oh right. No reminiscing.” Elisa continued staring down at him pointedly. Slowly, he stood up.

“Treat her well,” Elisa said finally, breaking the silence. “I don’t know why she doesn’t wish you dead, but if she loves you, and you care for her, then the last you could do would be to watch her back and treat her well.”

Artist's Note: Hello there! Been a long time, and I am technically on winter break, so I figured I'd post something! This is.....very random, unedited, and probably nonexistent in their storyline...and from about a fortnight ago. Don't ask me why Aura likes Elias; _I_ don't even know that answer.

Looking ahead though, I have something that would be related to White Scarlet that's going to be posted soon! White Scarlet was a 25K "mini-novel" I was writing a few years back (I think 3-4?) but it came up again and I wrote a little 3K snippet that relates to it this past week. :)

Until next time!

30 November 2011

Collab Fanfiction

Title: Collab Fanfiction
Author: Minerva Wu
Writing: fanfiction
Word Count: 2411
Note: Romantic fanfiction aka smut. This is fanfiction for a collaboration story on gaia that I am working on. Hopefully everything needed to understand the story has been mentioned though.

The Mountains of Shahaile…above that, the North Shrine River empties into the Strait of Alouhaile, which separates the Northern Isles of Shalanhaile from the main continent of Louzinarga. This... Ivarine traced her fingernail on the parchment, figuring a path that they could take. She knew the shortest way to the Isles was the path she had taken so many years ago to leave Shr'eink, a river path which would lead her directly back to her hometown.

Her now- razed hometown. Fury and grief swirled back through Ivarine's mind as she remembered the way the upstart lord had smirked when he said Shr'eink was no more. She had best not take that path. Firstly because only the natives of the small village of Shr'eink knew of that path; it was the light- side peoples' last route of escape when their town was being attacked. But already the village was no more; the real reason was more personal: that path was too close to her memories. As much as she wanted to strangle the dumb dark-side lord that had demolished her hometown, half of her knew she had to wait until after the Staff had been recovered--the half that lived and breathed the shadows, the half that had devoted her life to the forces of the Dark King and his ambition to rule the world under his black hand.

She stared at the dress Iyza had laid out for her evening wear. It was made of green silk, with silver trim and lacy white skirts. Within these folds she had tucked the small stone, which had gone silent after those two phrases. Thinking of Cadence's voice whispering through her mind gave Ivarine chills. What was she supposed to say? Aside from the news on Shr'eink, and that dumb Sha'lan boy, her few days in the dark palace had been almost pleasant. Iyza was kind and although the courtiers were cold, most of the other servants seemed to have adjusted well to having a queen sweeping their halls now. Even Lieutenant Zaire, whom she'd just met, was good company; after spending the morning with her new guard, she had dismissed the eni'ein to take the rest of the day to herself. And the king-- why, even he seemed to care for her well- being. No! I mustn't think these traitorous thoughts! But even as she thought it, Ivarine felt unease-- she didn't feel like a traitor. She felt comfortable. And for the first time since she'd left the Isles to accompany Farle and Cadence, she felt at--

The Queen of Shadows never finished the thought--outside her bathroom and in her bedroom quarters people were arguing. She heard Iyza's voice grow shrill as she commanded someone to leave. "I demand that you wait outside! The Queen is not seeing people currently!"

Footsteps approached regardless and Ivarine scrambled away from the map, grabbing the green dress and fumbling for the stone. The doorknob to the bathroom turned and the door opened the slightest. Ivarine thrust the communication stone into a pocket of her thin undergown before the voice that answered Iyza froze her to the spot. "Oh, I don't care what your Lady Callias is doing and certainly don't take orders from you."

Lord Sha'lan. His beautiful voice carried through the ajar door, his words a song and his tone a melody that persuaded her limbs to simply rest and melt into peace. Ivarine felt her muscles soften and her eyelids droop the slightest. The dress slackened in her hands.

What is this... she thought. The sounds of Iyza's indignant protest faded away and she heard a thump on the ground. "Yes, take a nap. Preferably until evening," he sang, but this time the overwhelming power from his voice was not there. It was still rich and smooth, but it didn't hold the commanding force that it had a moment ago. A spell. Ivarine eyes shot open with shock and horror and reached for the crown sitting just out of her arm's reach. She had seen what Cadence could do to silence people that interfered with them. If Lord Sha'lan was another manipulator of sound, Ivarine was in serious trouble.

"As for you--" He cut short suddenly and Ivarine glanced at the door to see the young man, his eyes roaming her thinly-clad body. She would have blasted with a shard of ice or shadow then and there, but she hadn't thought of it earlier and now she couldn’t think: this was not the same person that had been at the noble conference only that morning. While he had been decked in lavish silks and robes designed specifically to display one's wealth at court , the boy before her was now dressed plainly for a lord, in an gold-trimmed black shirt and black pants. His straight black hair was slightly tousled from its original slicked-back style and his blue-gray eyes glowed with lust as he stared at her subtle curves.

"You-" his voice almost choked and he stepped forwards, the hand curled around his sword relaxing. He closed the gap between them with a single stride and pushed her against the wall, his lips instantly closing around hers.

Ivarine heard the sound of his sword clanging and her evening dress crumpling to the floor and held her hand out to push him away, but he intercepted it without breaking his mouth from hers. He held both her hands with one soft but firm hand, his mouth working furiously against her lips the entire time. She could feel the raw desire in his movements as his free hand cupped her face and grasped a strand of her golden hair. They broke apart for breath, but his mouth was on her skin the next moment, trailing down and around her neck as his hand tugged on her undergown. She opened her mouth to scream, but the sound was muffled when his head shot up and smothered it with another kiss.

He moved again, crushing her body between his and the wall and tugged at the collar of her gown until it tore. Ivarine shut her eyes, begging focus and let loose a black wave of energy around her, blasting the nobleman to the other side of the bathing room that suddenly swam with the energy of the shadows. Glass shattered around them and when the black energy finally settled, Lord Sha’lan collapsed, momentarily unconscious a corner. She stood there, gasping for breath and bunching the torn corner of her gown, stunned and horrified.

At first Ivarine moved to kill him before he moved again, but stayed her hand, remembering that he was the only one who knew where the prized Aubergine Staff was. She shuddered, and knelt to pick up her dress; it was the only thing she could do now. She slipped into the green dress and laced the white ribbons together with increasing speed, anxious to get away. Kicking his sword away, she was about to leave when a groaning sound from his dark corner startled her and she turned. The young lord was crawling to his feet, and a shaft of light hit him; only then did Ivarine noticed the blue marks on his head where she’d struck him. She didn’t know how she knew it, but she reacted instinctively and rushed to his side, snatching a vial of healing potion out of a drawer.

“Don’t move, you’re bleeding,” she ordered, kneeling next to him. Half of her was worried by the sight of what she’d somehow interpreted as blood, while the other half was frantic to preserve the location of the Staff. She spread the thick liquid over the injury, and watched as the gap sealed itself. She repeated this, and only until she was done and the vial was empty did she realize that she had rescued the creep that had destroyed her childhood home. Ivarine drew back, shuddering.

The haughty lord didn’t even bother thanking her. He muttered something about nearly killing him but even murmured his voice was a harmony of irritation and pride that rolled off his tongue like notes off a musical staff. The staff—that was the purpose of her saving him, she reminded herself. The King will have the staff returned. I can deal with this upstart until then. The small protesting voice from earlier that said the black king did not own the Aubergine Staff was silent.

They sat in silence, him nursing a headache, and her the tumulus thoughts, until finally he said, “I knew you fancied me. You didn’t have to blast me apart to show me though.”

“Fancy you?” Her confused features twisted with outrage. “I loathe you!”

Lord Sha’lan raised an eyebrow. “What did I do to deserve such hatred?” he asked, his words tenor notes hanging in the air. They didn’t save him from the tirade that burst forth though.

“Aside from sexually assaulting me, barging into my rooms, knocking my servant out, openly disrespecting me in court and obliterating my hometown and family? Well, your arrogance didn’t help, for starters.”

“I didn’t think you’d feel…assaulted…” he muttered, his eyes trailing down the cut of the dress. He snapped his eyes back to meet hers, smoky blue versus crystalline violet. “And when did I destroy your hometown?”

“Shr—“ she stopped, catching herself before she revealed too much. She looked away. “Nothing. I spoke wrong.”

It didn’t fool him. “You came from Shr’eink.” He was quiet, until Ivarine finally looked and was surprised to find something besides egotism in his unwavering gaze.

Pity, for certain, but something stronger burned there as well, a gentle fire that touched her. Empathy. Loss. “You’ve lost your home before,” she whispered.

The boy nodded, and that simple motion was as beautiful as any of the words he’d ever spoken.


“Milady?” Iyza’s call roused Ivarine from sleep, and she lifted her head up, rubbing an eye.

“Iyza?” She called, but when she moved she felt an arm tighten around her and jerked, a light spark of energy flying off her. She glanced down and saw the still-drowsed expression of a teenage boy, one arm slung around her shoulders. She blinked in confusion and repulsion at the young lord and their curled position in the corner of the tub platform before remembering bits and pieces of the conversation that had followed. Bits and pieces of a conversation that sounded like her entire life story.

“Don’t let her in,” he whispered, pressing her closer to him so that his mouth almost touched her ear.

“Your highness? Do you require any assistance?”

Ivarine imagined how it would look to her servant if she walked in to see her Queen of Shadows locked in an embrace with the lord of the Northern Isles. Yes, I require you to explain how exactly this dolt has come to be here, she wanted to reply, but shook her head for a moment before remembering that Iyza wouldn’t see it. “I’m fine!” she called. “Give me a few minutes; I fell asleep!” With a narcissist that has a soft side; who knew?

“As you wish, milady” Iyza’s voice just outside the door said. “His majesty the king has called on your grace to meet him and Lord Sha’lan for dinner when you are quite ready. I shall inform him you were resting.” Her light footsteps pattered away as she conveyed the message to the messenger boy that had come.

“Lord Sha’lan—“

“Jarlsing,” he interrupted, helping her move to a sitting position. She was still curled with her head against his chest, but their legs untangled for the most part. She didn’t know why she didn’t push him away altogether.

“Jarlsing,” she repeated, stunned for a moment. “Yes, you.” Jarlsing Sha’lan rolled his eyes, the same way he had in court when she first noticed him, but didn’t interrupt. Ivarine paused. “I have to go,” she finally said.

“As do I. Your servant mentioned I was joining you for dinner, did she not?” he asked, his voice quiet and teasing.

“Get off me.”

His arms only curled tighter around her. “You don’t want me to.”

“Get off. Or I’ll blast you again.”

“Only to heal me with tender care and concern. Just admit it, you’re crazy about me Ivarine.”

The way her name seemed to chime when he said it made her hesitate the slightest, but Ivarine shook her head frustratedly and pushed against him. With a sigh he loosened his grip and settled for just her hand, capturing it in his soft, warm touch.

“If the King finds out…about any of this, he’ll have your head, Staff or no,” she warned, stretching out her legs.

The young man shook his head, the mischievous gleam in his eyes again. “I’m too valuable. I could probably persuade him to give you to me and he’d do so willingly.”

“You think too much of yourself,” she shot back, pulling away and slipping off the platform. She smoothed her dress in the mirror and searched for a brush, finally finding an unbroken one in the drawer next to the healing ointments. Jarlsing came up behind her, resting his hand on her shoulder.

“So feminine, fretting over appearances. Do you think he’ll be very upset at you for sleeping with me?”

“I did no such—“ she said, color rising into her cheeks, but his amused expression stopped her and she resumed to running the brush through her hair. She found a green ribbon to tie it up with, but the young lord placed his hand over hers and closed the drawer quietly.

“Don’t tie it tonight.” he murmured, turning her around. He held her hands and leaned in. She thought he was going to kiss her again and almost flinched before she heard his gentle, entrancing voice murmur by her ear, “For me.”

Ivarine stared at a thread on his shirt and sighed, rewinding the ribbon around her wrist. She stepped back and away, her expression annoyed as she glared at him. “Now will you let me go?”

“Beautiful,” he replied, not answering her question and swiftly kissing her cheek before letting go. She marched past him for the door and just as she was about to open it all the way, she heard him call her name softly. “Ivarine— just to set the record straight: I said Shr’eink was razed to the ground…I never said I did it.”

Artist's Note: Well....a lot to address, so:

On the story: Like I said, it's for an open collaboration. There are only 3 active writers, myself included now....so join? :D

Anyways...I did warn about smut >.< On the other hand, it's my first complete fanfiction! Well, I don't know if it's really considered fanfiction if it's a story I'm writing but.....well now, I don't feel lame at all. But I thought it was pretty in places, and ridiculous in others.

Also, not supposed to sound like shallow lust in the second half. (Does anyone see it as that? I feel like it is...even though I did imply that they did get to know each other better by the end of the conversation......gah.)

On NaNoWriMo: I started, and got up to around 30K, but unfortunately couldn't/ can't finish in time. I do have the start of a story that doesn't sound terribly horrible though (fair enough to continue and revise sometime later anyways). For now though, I'm going to be getting on to other projects that I had in mind/ put off/ put on hiatus. I'll post some excerpts from the NaNo thing though, if only so I can train myself to posting every week again.

On life: hehehe. unexpected (or maybe to be expected) hiatus resulted from NaNoWriMo and from college stresses :( No other excuse. I do have an xbox again though, so I can get back to playing Final Fantasy XIII (which I had to restart because it's a new console that doesn't read the previous memory disk XP No matter. More hours of gameplaying then! XD). I have other stuff, like being a good student and art and writing to get to as well though! We'll see how it goes. Finals for my first quarter next week. Should probably be writing the essay that's due tomorrow. Meh. I'll post those! xD

On The River Windrose: It's going to be starting! After finals. I have a story (ECA) that I'm 67.22% finished with (you'll see how I'm so precise with that number) but I'm willing to start posting the first few entries. So...depending on a bunch of circumstances, the first official post on TRW will be either 100 or 500 words.

I'm also going to undertake a 30-day drawing challenge for the month of Delin Al Era--that is, December. These snippets will be probably uploaded to deviantART or TRW :)

As always, thanks for reading and commenting! <3


30 September 2011


Title: WenInterview
Author: Minerva Wu
Writing: Interview
Word Count: 2156

Notice: This interview does not actually exist because Wen is never interviewed at any point and even if he did he would probably make up a bunch of fluff and that would be the most cooperative he would be. Unless it was Maple-Ann. But assuming that he would cooperate with a random interviewer and be very honest, then this would be somewhat it would sound like.

For this I have chosen Peony Landernorm as the interviewer because she made it to the character list but I feel she's not been developed quite enough. So...she's now a journalism major, interviewing Wen for whatever reason. At the time of this nonexistent but envisioned interview, Wen would be 19 years old, some time after his third visit to the Heart of All Realms and his reunion with his family.

(Don't get it? It'll be explained hopefully)

Peony Landernorm (INTERVIEWER): Hello! First, could I have you spell your name?

Wisconsin (Wen) Tynan (INTERVIEWEE): That would be Wisconsin, W-E-X-K-W-A-N-X-Y-M, Tynan, D-I-N-A-M.

Peony: ...Haha, really funny.

Wen: mhm. [laughs] It's W-I-S-C-O-N-S-I-N and T-Y-N-A-N. But really, just call me Wen.

Peony: Thank you. And you are a pilot by trade?

Wen: Sure.

Peony: ...I suppose it can be a bit complicated. Why don't you tell us about your experience with the assassins on Earth?

Wen: Why don't you tell me about what you know about me first?

Peony: Well...I obtained a file on you from the agency in question and updated it later by various sources.

Wen: Well, obviously that file didn't tell you that mind-reading abilities aren't my forte. What's in that file?

Peony: Hrm. Let's just start general then. I understand most of your life was pretty solitary. Could you describe your acquaintances?

Wen: [pause]. You're right on that part; most of my life I spent on my own. [pause]. I don't remember anyone from before I was abducted, except this vague lady that I was getting milk for or something. Mrs. Samson I think. There was the short german girl I helped with her revolution, but I didn't really consider her a friend.

I flew the assassin Liam Osborne Wreke the most in my missions, but I didn't really like him. How do I describe him...stupid, arrogant...low tolerance for spinning...that's about it.

And that covers about the first 14 years of my life.

Peony: What about Violet?

Wen: Violet--oh. I met her later.

Peony: Oh! I was under the impression you met her briefly during one of your missions near Aldenzeve.

Wen: [thinks] no, no, damn, you're right! Yea, I met her and her brother Wyoming or something.

Peony: Utah.

Wen: I said Wyoming or something. Key word something. Anyways. The Kysons. And his girlfriend. Gillian Summers. I remember her. Every time I felt like someone was being a bitch or life was shitty I'd think of her and say, "Hey, at least you're not like her." She puts up with all this shit every day and doesn't have a clue what to do about it and ends up deluding herself. Sad really.

Peony: So, you feel pity for her?

Wen: Meh. Something between pity and scorn.

Peony: Ok then. What about after you found the first portal?

Wen: Well, I met Erin and Dennis of course. Erin Jenevive. Dennis Runth. They were my mentors. It wasn't too hard getting used to life with them either. They were assassins too and Erin's life is pretty similar to mine. We were both kidnapped as kids and trained to be deadly. And we're both Leth's. 'Course I didn't know until she recognized it and started training me. I still think it's destiny that we all met.

Peony: You have plans to meet up with them again now that you have directions to find them?

Wen: Yea. I also have a few things Erin wanted. From the Heart of All Realms. Yea.

Peony: Speaking of the Heart of All Realms, you found it quite a few times, didn't you?

Wen: More like accidentally stumbled upon, but yeah

Peony: When exactly were these times and what did you request from the Master each time?

Wen: The first time from earth, when I was about 14 and a half. I didn't exactly have anything I really wanted, so I just told her to close the damn portal and get me out of there. I ended up in Idyllen and ran into it again at 16, after I was separated from Erin and Dennis in a battle. I thought I would be able to find them again so I asked for Erin's name before she was kidnapped and mine as well. When I got back though, I couldn't find them and I ended up with that crazy group of cursed, asinine dolts. We finally succeeded last year. That was the only time I really "found" it. And I asked for my directions of course.

Peony: If they were "crazy, cursed and asinine dolts", why did you join their quest?

Wen: To be honest I didn't want to at first. But as we talked about it I figured I didn't have anywhere else to go and I was actually pretty curious where all those fools would end up. Something like that. And it promised me a chance to do what I knew best: flying and fighting.

Peony: So do you think these "dolts" count as your friends now?

Wen: Unfortunately, yes.

Peony: Unfortunately?

Wen: Five is five too many.

Peony:... Well, you admitted they were your friends already. Could you give me your impressions of them, then and now?

Wen: Yea. How do I start? Well, my first impression of Jing Long was a crazed Shadow chasing him. He seemed a bit clueless, but kinda "cute," as Dennis would say. He's really not that bad. He's really compassionate, and though I think that's more of a weakness, he kind of held the group together. Which I don't exactly approve of, but I guess it was good anyways.

Kenneth Rizea was the reason we started the damn quest in the first place. His mom had gone missing or something. Um...I didn't really think too much about him at first. He's a great artist, and no good with aircrafts and he sucks at dodging enemy fire. Really sucks. That's all I'm going to say.

Violet next. I didn't remember her at first, but it didn't matter because she didn't either. She was going through a bit of a memory crisis so I thought--rightfully too--that she was insane. But she was pretty helpful at the end. Pretty nice.


Peony: Maple-Ann Lewis?

Wen: Ah. Well. My first impression of her was amused irritation because she seemed so nice and gentle and stuff. But she's cool. Really.

Lastly, Archangel--I believe she's called Aeria now or something? Anyways, she introduced herself as The Lady Archangel. Again, amused irritation. She had all these airs about who everyone was and who she was and what not, but she was pretty easily outwitted. It's kinda funny too. She's not too bad. Too damn proud for her own good though.

Peony: And who among them would you think is your closest friend, if you had one?

Wen: Um..[pause, thinks, then laughs.] I'd say Kenneth. He's great to talk to or not talk to.

Peony: And how would you describe your relationship with Maple-Ann?

Wen: Friends. Good friends. I still visit her at Cieonna Halls every so often and she calls me up some evenings.

Peony: Nothing...more serious?

Wen: Your subtlety is worse than my healing ability, Miss Landernorm. No, there's nothing "more serious" going on between us.

Peony: I see... I am correct that you admire her though?

Wen: Yea. What's wrong with that? She can spit fire and heal someone at the same time, raze an army in 16 seconds flat and take care of herself. That’s almost better than me.


Wen: If you're trying to illicit a confession from me, you're not going to get it. Next question.

Peony: Very well. On the subject of your birth family, what do you think of them?

Wen: [laughs] My twin nothing like me. Really.

Peony:...in what regard?

Wen: She's fat.

Peony: [flinches]

Wen: But I know what you mean. She's a bit cowardly, but she's got some traits I think makes sense for her. Not for me, of course, but I can sympathize. [shrug] Somewhat.

Peony: What kind of traits?

Wen: Loyalty, I guess.

Peony: What about your parents and cousin?

Wen: My mom's so fucking cool! [laughs] But really. Evenette's misunderstood, but she's awesome. Really chill. Nem's a bit weird, but I like him enough. He's a bit of a treehugger though I think. Something along those lines. I'm glad they don't live together.

Peony: Your cousin Veraline Suis takes after your father though; what do you think of her?

Wen: I seriously think Vera was born in the wrong family or something. She's not a witch I guess, but her soul-sending abilities are pretty sweet. Scary too. And her mean streak takes after Evenette's.

Peony: You call your parents my name?

Wen: Well, Nem insists on it. Evvy and Vera call him Nem too. And Evenette just sounds better than "mom" or something. She doesn't seem the mom type.

Peony: Have you ever considered it might just be because you're unaccustomed to it?

Wen: ...Do you know what would happen to me if I called Evenette "mom"?

Peony: Do I want to?

Wen: Her dualcasting's stronger than Evvy's... and that's saying something.

Peony:...I think I'll pass.

Wem: Thought so.

Peony: [chuckles] Now, to pull away from the people in your life--

Wen: Finally.

Peony: --[laughs]. What do you think your favorite ship model would be?

Wen: Uh...I've been with my current one so long I think I'd have to say that one. A J16. With major upgrades. Back in the assassin days though, I liked the J24 as well. Sexy and fast. Not too shabby either; it's machines guns are decent but it needs more rockets. Something like the K60. But that's a bit fat for my style. The best part about the K60 is the swivel seat though. That thing's so fun to play with.

Peony:...A swivel seat?

Wen: [nods, grins]

Peony: I'll take your word for it, I suppose. And your favorite weapon?

Wen: Besides anything on my ship?

Peony: Yes.

Wen: My leth blade. It's this short knife thing that doesn't look too impressive, but I can shoot the blade out of the hilt as well. Really useful. I'm pretty proud of it. Of course, cleaning it out’s a fucking pain, but usually I can take care of my opponent within five blades.

Peony: What weapon did you use for melee combat before you built it?

Wen: Mostly handguns, any kind I can get my hands on. I’m a pretty accurate shot, if I do say so myself, so I had a few knives on me too.

Peony: Did you learn any other weapons during training?

Wen: Oh sure. I had a bit of a height advantage over most of the other kids my age, but I usually preferred longer-ranger weapons like staff, chain, mace. Didn’t like it too much out of training though. Too bulky to carry around and the chains were too clunky. I made a fair sniper as well, but again, too big.

Peony: Small and effective, I see.

Wen: Something like that.

Peony: I think that sums up what I wanted to ask. Do you have any sources I could go to for additional information?

Wen: Wait, what was your job again?

Peony:..I’m a journalist.

Wen: Professional lawful stalker, right, thought so. I’ll leave you to your own devices then. Hopefully your snooping tricks are up to the task.

Peony: [laughs] I understand. Anything else you’d like to add then?

Wen: Yea. This interview took so damned long I was able to think of about 98 variations of ways to kill you, even with all my talking.

Peony: [raises an eyebrow] Only 98?

Wen: That’s not including the 40-some ways involving my ship outside.

Peony: Well, you don’t exactly have access to your ship so they don’t count. 98 is pretty sad.

Wen: Actually, [pulls out a gadget from his pocket]

Peony: Never mind. Even so though. 138 isn’t too many ways. I was expecting at least 200.

Wen: [shrug] Sorry to disappoint.

Peony: You should be.

Wen: Any one of them would be more than sufficient though. And if I combined a few of them that’d be easily over 200.

Peony: On second thought, good job.

Wen: But yea, 138 is pretty lame for me.

Artist's Note: Hello there and welcome to the third and final edition of the little WenArch. Hope you enjoyed it!

Well..there goes my buffer of stories. That's quite ok though because the rules of this site only say 500+ words per week of whatever and I have a few other 500 word things that I could post that aren't exactly stories.

On life: College sucks. It's week one and I'm already neck-high in work. I have so much to do and even more that I want to do.

Comments? Questions? Please Read and Review! Thank you very much! :)

~Minerva Wu

23 September 2011


Title: Trading Places
Author: SilverInk
Writing: excerpt/ short?
Word count: 1303

To say Wen was pissed off was an understatement. Yet to say that he was extremely infuriated was hyperbole. It simply wasn't the boy pilot's nature to get worked up about anything.


“Mr. Tynan, didn’t you ever have to submit reports for missions in your old job? Reports that include essays and diagrams? Now get to work.”

The black-haired boy rolled his eyes. “No, sir,” he said, leaning back and sticking his hands in his pockets. “I’m a pilot. I take the assassin to the damn place and then I take the bitches back when they’re done. No paperwork involved.”

“Watch your language, young man. What would your mother think?”

“She’d be very damn proud of me, sir. Actually, I think I’m disappointing her a bit—”

“There you go.”

“—By not blowing this shithole up.”

The teacher—not to mention most of the students, turned around to stare at him. The transfer student smirked.

“Is this the way your father taught you to behave, Wen?”

“You assume I grew up with him. You assume wrong.”

“In any case,” the substitute said stuffily, “You signed up for this program so you should do your best to do well in it. The rest of you, back to work.”


It started as a request from one of those crazy people that I went on that one crazy mission to find some girl that had wandered off in search of the Heart of All Realms. Kenneth, yea. I always knew it’d be a bad thing to have a lot of friends.

Five is five too many.

Anyways, so when the five of us got back from our search with Kenneth’s mom—that’s who we were searching for—we all split ways again, thank goodness. I had directions to find Erin and Dennis again and the others had whatever the heck they wanted. That was my third time in the Heart of All Realms—the first two times I found it was by accident—and hopefully my last. Maple-Ann Lewis gave me her contact information and Jing Long invited me to stay with him. That wacky whatever-the-heck-her-species-is went off without a word. Violet the phantom girl had stayed behind—for a while at least-- as a part of a deal with Eria Briallen, the strange Keeper of the Heart of All Realms.

And then Kenneth came up to me and asked if I would mind switching places with him for a few days.

Told you it’d be a stupid idea.


“Here’s an assignment our guest might enjoy,” the substitute said pointedly. “Depict a battlefield, if you would.”

The entire class grumbled and one student raised his hand. “Sir, we’re supposed to be working with watercolors—”

“Then draw a battlefield with watercolors.”

“—On our self-portraits.”

“Well, think of this as a break then,” the substitute insisted petulantly. “Use anything you like. Just take a break.”

A few students grumbled and others cleaned up reluctantly. The girl next to Wen cleaned the water in her glass with a spell.

Wen pulled out a palm-sized gadget and within a few clicks he’d found a famous picture of a battlefield. Two sparks jumped from his fingers and he took the picture off the hologram screen and transferred it to the canvas. When the substitute came around, he was leaning back in his chair, boots flamboyantly on the table, playing a game on his minicomputer.

“Mr. Tynan.”

“Wisconsin’s fine” He didn’t look up from blowing a digital ship into splinters.

“There will be no game-playing in class.”

“Game-playing?” he looked up innocently and set his feet down. “But sir, I’m not playing. I’m making. Are you to say that this class doesn’t embrace the digital arts and game design?”

The teacher frowned. Wen smirked. “And I’m finished with the assignment anyways.”

“A fair replica of another artist’s painting I grant.”—Wen raised an eyebrow— “But there is to be none of this nonsense. Save your fascination for video games for after class.”

To everyone’s relief, the bell chose that moment to ring and the class filed out, some tossing glares at their temporary classmate, other muttering about the poor substitute teacher. After clearing the canvas, Wen simply swung his jacket over his shoulder and followed the others.

Let’s see: If a university asks you —pays you—to paint a mural for their school when you’re freaking 10, it’s probably a good idea for you to stick to painting and drawing and all that artsy-craftsy stuff. And if you can fly any odd warship by the time you’re 18, it’s probably a good idea to stick to flying warships.


“I heard you were a cocky little brat today” a voice said behind him. “Again.”

Wen whirled, a hand reaching for his pocket when he recognized the figure. His expression faded into a pleasant smile and he approached the girl leaning against the wall. “What’re you doing here? Kenneth’s done?”

“Just say it. You’re thrilled to see me.”

He only raised an eyebrow at her. “Sure. About as thrilled as I was to take that dumb art class for Kenneth.”

“You must have been pretty excited to learn to draw then.”


“How was it?”

“Teacher didn’t like me. Took a vacation. Substitute liked me even less.” I think I boosted Kenneth’s grade though.”

It was Maple-Ann’s turn to quirk an eye.

“By a few negative points I mean,” Wen clarified with a shrug.

Maple-Ann laughed as they picked their way over to where a badly-beaten aircraft stood in the center of the field before stopping. She leaned against the ship’s flank, catching her breath. A few of the straggling art students shot her queer looks and she just laughed at them. “Scat!” she commanded, her expression still maniacal. When they didn’t heed her, her lips turned devilishly up again and she raised a hand. If they had been paying close attention, they would have seen a red spark dance over her fingers before setting the hand aglow. A half-second later, the section of the field they were on exploded, sending the offending students flying into the air.

“Careful now, Maple. If one of those bodies land on my ship you’ll be the one cleaning it up.”

She laughed and sent another spark into the air, catching her victims in little white bubbles. By the time they landed on the school roof, they were without a scratch or drop of blood and very much alive. The gruesome little mage turned to her fighter friend with an evil smirk. “Their nerves’ll be a little racked up but they’re fine, dear. I’m surprised you care though.”

He eyed her for a second. “I’m usually a little cleaner with my kills.”

“It’s not as fun, dearest. Don’t you like explosions?”

They both laughed at this one, and another voice approached them.

“Wen likes explosions all right. Really likes explosions.”

“Hiya Kenneth. Wen here was just complaining about polishing his little baby. Looks like he’ll have to be cleaning up anyways,” Maple noted with a smirk. “Where’d you go? A volcano?”

Kenneth scoffed as Wen inspected the belly of the ship. “I wish. I just ran through his “training module” on the mountains.”

“Well,” the bad artist said, sitting on the floor and letting his legs hang off the edge, “You did pretty well for a first time flyer. The hard range, one, right? The one with the giant birds and the gunners and bombs?”

“I tried out the one labeled ‘easy’ on your map.”

Wen’s expression froze and Maple backed away, giggling. “Good work little Kenneth. Don’t worry, I’ll attend your funeral.”

On second thought, just don’t let strange people fly your ship. Even if they’re supervised by a destructive little witch.

Artist's Note: :) Part two of three of the little Wen-arch.

Anyways....I think I've gotten over the whole putting my name on the internet. But SilverInk stands as my alias for now. Anwyays..I also got over the put-the-character's-surname-in-every piece thing :)

Please Read and Review!


16 September 2011

WenRant 1

Title: The Start of the Journey to the Heart of All Realms
Author: SilverInk
Writing: short scene/ excerpt of an unwritten story
Word Count: 2139
Note: If this were an actual full-blown story then this note wouldn't be here. Chronologically though, this scene would take place after three characters did battle with dark demonic figure known as a Shadow. The six characters are now at a mansion where they are given a mission.

First things first. Don't volunteer for missions with random strangers. Especially if one of them has a crazy Shadow stalking them. Not to mention the other dweebs are either idiots or pompous psychos. I'm serious. We were six kids attempting to embark on the most complicated mission I’d ever heard of.


“I have no choice now, confined as I am to my home, but to ask you six to help me,” the rich man on the floating “wheel”chair said gravely. “My wife is missing, gone off to find a place few have ever returned from…the Heart of All Realms.”

“Do we have any clues, Mr. Jackson?” asked a boy with jagged ears and tanned brown skin.

“My son should be able to help you,” replied the man. A skinny boy with fair hair and a shy expression stepped up next to him. “I also have given Miss Violet Kyson here”—he pointed to the purple haired girl that looked like she had no idea what they were saying— “a bag of portals. They are all I have to help you, unfortunately.” Mr. Jackson then fell into a bout of coughing and quit the room, leaving the six alone.

Quiet fell over the hall. One boy put his feet on the table and his hands in his pocket. His expression was bitter but not hostile. Cody Jackson’s son stood nervously next to the boy who had spoken and who now spoke again: “Well…”

The pretty girl with red curls and a white skirt looking up, taking a cookie and breaking it into crumbles over her plate. Next to her, the purple-haired girl lifted an invisible teacup and drank. A winged girl with a black halo and black dress sat two seats away from purple-hair, staring stonily at the others.

“Erm.” Everyone whirled and turned to Mr. Jackson’s son except for the stony-faced girl, who simply turned her head slowly, like a statue. The boy faltered.

A few minutes of awkward silence later, jagged-ears said, probably over-enthusiastically, “Well, I’m Jing Long, last of the Tideborn, as far as I know. Sorry about the Shadow earlier.”

“That was your fault?” red curls asked, picking up another cookie.

“Erm, yea. I’m not quite sure what I did to anger him.” It was jagged-ear’s turn to look nervous. Curls nodded before pulverizing the cookie. Poor cookie. Another pause later, Ears fidgeted and turned to Jack’s son’s son. “So, what’s your name?”

“Kenneth,” the boy said quietly, as if he was afraid of answering wrong. The boy with his feet on the table rolled his eyes.

“Kenneth Jackson. Not a bad name.” Jing chuckled, which sounded strange for an 11 year old. “Beats Gold Dragon.”

“Rizea actually.”


“Kenneth Rizea. It’s my mother’s surname.”

Boots-on-the-table suppressed a laugh and Curls asked the question on everyone’s mind: “Why did you take your mother’s surname?”

“It’s actually my grandmother’s,” he explained. “My mother adopted it because she didn’t have a surname. Both my sister and I took the Rizea name…at my father’s insistence.” He shrugged. “I know it’s confusing. I don’t get it myself all the time. But yea. I’m Kenneth Rizea.”

There was a pause as everyone took this in before purple-hair said, “Confusing, family of yours is.” She proceeded to introduce herself. “Me is Violet, of Kyson.” She turned to feet-on-the-table.

He made a face before replying. “Wisconsin.”

“Of Wisconsin?” Curls asked innocently. He gave her a funny look. “You mentioned you came from Earth.”

He shrugged. “Surname Tynan. You?”

“Lewis. Maple-Ann Lewis. I hail from Cieonna Halls though,” she said the last part with a smirk.

A silence again.

“You are all fools,” the last person suddenly said. Everyone faced her, but unlike little Kenneth, she did not falter under their gaze. “You toss such names around as if they were common.” She turned her hard gaze on the amicable Jing: “Gold Dragon is a name of promise if not yet known. It was a well-chosen name, yet you waste your life in foolishness, anger a Shadow and endanger your kind. You know you are the last of your species yet you have not more capacity for seriousness?”

She turned to Violet without stopping a beat: “Kyson! She may be some distant relative of yours, but the blood of Kerra Dusk, Lady of Darkness runs strong in your blood. You embody one of the few phantasmic people that walk this world with neither curse nor confine and yet you cannot even begin to understand the legends that surround your family.”

She bore down on the youngest of the group: “You are young, but are a cretin nonetheless for not knowing your own name. Your father chose Rizea for your sister and you because it holds power, more so than the name Jackson. Aurora Rizea is one of the Nine Houses, Master of the Carpet Eveline, and the legendary Traveler of the genesis times.

“And you—“ She whirled on Maple, who sat calmly, a half-crumpled cookie in her hands. “Reon Cieonna is another of the Nine Houses, Master of the Scarf Eveline, Storm-Keeper, Ghost-Ruler—do these titles mean nothing to you? You forsake your name and by extension your birth and power. You have no idea of the power kept by the Halls of Cieonna yet you would cast it aside for some unknown “Lewis”?” She sat in an indignant huff.

“Fools all. I should call myself one for associating myself with you.”

She stopped there, and sat with her eyes piercing into the “cretins”. Her harangue had left Kenneth in tears, Jing in guilty silence, and Violet in stunned confusion. Only Maple seemed unaffected, the half cookie still in her delicate fingers.

Maple set the cookie down untouched and re-pinned a curl smoothly before saying, “And whom might you be, so wise in the ways of our families and our names?”

“I am known only as The Lady Archangel,” came the stern reply. “I am the Servant on the Nine Houses themselves, and a force not to be reckoned with.”

Maple-Ann Lewis of Cieonna Halls evidently ignored that last part. She took a bite of the cookie thoughtfully and set it down again with a pleasant smile. “Good cookies,” she said briefly to Kenneth. “Better than the kind my sister bakes.”

To the force that had named herself The Lady Archangel: “Yes, my sister. Esthien Cieonna, who carries the burden of the Curse of Cieonna. The Curse, and the powers that come with it.” She took another bite of cookie and continued evenly, “Reon herself named me Lewis. I do not aspire for more than I am entitled to. I do not aspire my sister’s position as I am certain she should not aspire to mine. My name is very much appropriate to my person.” She paused again to finish the cookie, perhaps mostly for effect, and finished, “And whatever sources you relied are clearly incomplete.”

The Lady Archangel didn’t miss a beat: “Notwithstanding you have left the Halls though, Miss Lewis. Is the calling of one of the Lost of Cieonna Halls too difficult for you? Why else would you linger so far away from the Halls and dawdle time snacking on—on trinkets!” she waved her hands expressly at the pile of cookie crumbs and crumbles that had gathered on Maple’s plate. “You are—a halfwit!”

Evidently Maple had no answer for this, as she simply took another cookie and nibbled away nonchalantly. The forgotten boy with his boots on his empty plate abruptly moved, shrugging his hands from his pockets and crossing them over his chest.

“What about me? You don’t seem to have a problem with me.”

“Tynan is an obscure name,” the Lady dismissed. “You are an inconsequential speck in comparison to the history that your companions keep.”

“Am I?” He suppressed a sneer.

“Your name is unknown. I suggest you disengage yourself from this motley group before your name is tainted as well."

“Right. I don’t know my name.” He paused, and this time the sneer was unhidden. “But I know my relations.”

The Lady stared down at him with narrowed eyes. “As you should, you—“

“I was abducted when I was 4,” he said flatly. “And before then I lived in the streets. I never met my family.”

“Then how—“

“You may know them too.” He let that hang there for a moment before continuing. “Erin Jenevive. Know her name?”

He was met with silence.

“Didn’t think so. What about Nem Suis?”

“Suis,” Maple-Ann muttered.

“Veraline?” A pause. “Does Evangeline ring a bell?”

Maple snapped her head up, staring. Wen smiled. “Evangeline is my twin sister. I’m told we don’t look alike.”

“You don’t,” Maple said curtly, selecting another cookie from the few left.

“She has witch blood and I…another.” He withheld the information but Jing, the only other person besides Maple that had seen Wen fight earlier, supplied the information:

“A…warrior of the energy blade. What’s the word—“

Wen twisted his mouth and blinked. For a kid, the boy had caught on extraordinarily fast.

“A Leth,” the Lady breathed, half in scorn, half in disbelief.

The Leth shrugged. “Of course, no one besides this, what did you call her—this halfwit, has caught on yet what I mean. This must mean you, my good lady, are less than half-wit. Shall we say,” he paused, pretending to think, “A dimwit?”

Maple laughed aloud and Violet’s expression was caught halfway between a smile of amusement, a frown of disapproval and a twist of confusion. The younger two didn’t understand the battle of wits until the last word, when even they caught on that the older boy had called the Lady a dimwit.

“You withhold another name,” the Lady said, eyes narrowed but otherwise unfazed by the insult. “Say it.”

Wen shook his head with a superior smile. “You should know this, all-wise one.”

“Say it.”

Maple finished another cookie, leaving only three more on the plate for the others, none of who had touched one yet. She wiped her fingers on a napkin delicately. “Evenette Suis,” she said evenly. “That is the name you are missing.”

“Surely that one you recognize?” Wen asked innocently.

Everyone recognized the name. Evenette Suis, the witch-that-had-gone-insane. Evenette, who had been gifted with the rare ability of dualcasting elements. Evenette, who held more power than entire armies in a single pointy fingernail. Evenette, who was rumored to be the Destroyer—who else could wreak havoc so easily without conscience?

“Your name is a tainted one,” The Lady Archangel said finally. “Yet you flaunt it. Evenette’s curse may yet be your own.”

“Evenette’s curse is her gift which is my twin’s.”

For a while no one said anything. Wen Tynan put his feet down and snagged a cookie from the plate. He bit, found it to his liking and consumed the remainder of it quickly. He tossed another to Jing, stood and patted his hands off on his pants and pulled a gadget out of a pocket as if checking the time. “Well, glad that’s settled. Now, if we have a clue where we’re going, I have a ship outside that might be handy. ”

Maple stood and waved a hand over her plate of crumbs, clearing it immediately. Jing, who was already standing turned to Kenneth, who picked the bag on the ground next to him and nodded. Violet looked up. “Me may…join you on quest?”

Maple smiled magnanimously and put a comforting arm on the purple-haired phantom’s shoulder. “Of course,” she murmured. “You are welcome.”

The five nodded and headed outside, leaving the girl in the long dress and black halo with the final cookie.

The Lady Archangel sat with her hands folded before her, eyes staring through the innocent cookie. “Their mission may yet be successful,” she murmured barely audible. She stood and looked after the five-some and back at her scythe leaning against the wall. She swept the scythe into one hand and flicked the cookie onto the blade in a single, practiced move. With precise movement she brought the blade towards her and snatched the cookie up with her free hand. She ate a little chunk, cocked her head in tasting and tucked the remainder away to one of the many cross-deminsional vaults created with a swipe of her scythe. Then she smoothed out her dress and walked through the wall to join the other fools.

Okay, fine, they turned out different than I’d guessed. But they were difficult too, and sometimes they reminded me of my old assassin crew. I just thought of it as another mission. It didn’t matter who assigned it.

Artist's note: Hi :) This is Silver Ink, hopefully reporting back after a summer hiatus. Yep!

So...I already know this is going to be a really really long note so I'll try to divide it up:

About the post/ story: So...yea...:D Wen's life took an unexpected turn, hehe. There are two other Wen-stories I already have written and will be posting... so... yea. As with any other story that vaguely mentions Wen Tynan, this is dedicated to TATAbox. Hopefully she's not disappointed that I posted something other than what I said I would....but it fit better to post this first, I think. :)

About the hiatus and life: Hehehe...Sorry about the unexplained unmentioned hiatus. I was away from my computer (omigosh -.-) for most of the summer and I had summer school so....that's my excuse? hehe! College is starting as well, so I don't know exactly how much I'll be writing yet, but I'll try to keep with the good old 500 words/ week :)

About...another blog. You might not have noticed, but this post is being posted from a different gmail account; aurasinewindrose@gmail.com (cookies if you remember where Aurasine Windrose comes from). Don't worry; it's just a new alias. In conjunction, The River Windrose is now up, though not yet running. It's going to be only my stuff :P but it's not completely the same. I'll still be posting random stories and scenes here on DiW <3. TRW will be a little different. I'll keep an update on how that goes (expect slowly :P ) :)

Also, I realized that the subscribe button only works with gmail only and only to the blogger feed and that thus, no one was getting any notifications about posts! That's been altered to a subscribe by e-mail gadget now, so hopefully it'll be a little more useful. It's at the bottom of the right hand bar, right under the horridly outdated Links section. Tell me how it works! :)

Please comment! Thanks in advance!

Anyways...that's all for this week! Glad to be back!