It was some kind of fey soap opera. Falling somewhere between clownish tragedy and romantic comedy, it shone with vibrancy and humor in this dark, underground world.
His hunger tainted everything, the world, the sky, the air. I ran from it, ran underground, down, down, as far away from the heat and the hunger as I could, and did not stop until I found the lowest place.
The method for determining bad men was a new one to me.
From my current WIP, Notte. As usual, it’s unedited, so read at your own risk.
Only one structure of any significance rose from the place, and it had been built not only with mud and rocks, but also bones. Human, animal, and unknown – if it once comprised something’s skeletal structure, it was evidently good enough for these squalid architects.
The golden man did not expect me to try to bite his throat. No one expects that, generally.
“Keep up, idiot,” Re muttered, and I shook myself from my wonder to trot beside him.
Fair warning: this is almost completely unedited, beyond a quick skim for typos (which I probably missed anyway).That’s okay. First drafts are what they are.