World of Warcraft®

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Alright, so I'll be honest, the last one kinda flopped a bit. Not surprising, really. Lunar Festival is my least favorite holiday and I'm sure there are many who'd agree with me.

But, this next one will be better.

Your subject: Love

Yes, love. Of all types. Family. Romantic. BROmantic. If your character doesn't love -anybody-, I don't know what to tell ya. Because I'd personally hate living like that. :(

Happy writing!

EDIT: No new writing challenge this week. Running into some real-world difficulties.

Jabrus Steelbeard, undefeated pitfighting champion of the Slaughtered Lamb Underground Fighters' Ring, kicked his steel-toed boot into the pansy arse human's ribs.

“Get up, ya limpwit!” Steelbeard growled. “Yer pathetic!”

Indeed, his opponent did look pathetic: he was crumpled on the ground, blood oozing from his jaw, blonde hair streaked with gore and spit. Steelbeard was disappointed; Cathall “The Cleaver” Stockton had a reputation as one of the fiercest fighters in the pit. But here he was, lame as an old farm horse past its time.

Usually, good fighters didn't just lose their guts unless it was because of some 'personal' problem. He'd seen it before: booze and women were usually the reasons.

Stockton was a pretty boy, and Steelbeard knew he was popular with the ladies. The dwarf crouched, grinning in the man's ear. “It's a girl, ain't it? Pretty girl's done you wrong, now yer heart's all in pieces.” Steelbeard spat. “She'd think yer pathetic, too, she could see y'now.”

Stockton didn't budge.

“Lyin' there like a sack o' dead meat,” the dwarf growled. “'Course she don't want ye! 'Specially 'f all yer parts are just as limp -”

A boot collided with the dwarf's knee. Then, a fist hit his jaw. Blows rained down on him from all sides. The crowd went wild.

“She's not -”

Thump went Stockton's fist into his jaw.

“Just a pretty-”

Thump.

“Girl.”

Thump.

“She's the best -”

Thump.

“Thing-”

Thump.

“That ever happened to me!”

The crowd roared.

Steelbeard went black.

Bulwark

“I’m here, sweetheart,” she said in a voice that barely broke above a whisper as the door closed behind her. The faint glow of the enchanted stone that sat on his bedside table helped her quickly adjust to the darkness of the room as compared to the rest of the house.

“Minn’da!” he cried, the boy sitting upright in the bed. Sweat covered him, his nightclothes sticking to his skin.

“Bad dream?” she asked as she plucked him up gingerly, cradling him on her lap as she sat down on his bed’s side.

“Ya,” he mewled, curling up and clinging to her. The tiny fingers of his left hand wound into the fabric of the front of her robes, the middle and ring fingers of his other hand slipping between his lips. His tears persisted, though the volume of his crying decreased.

“You know, if you tell me what the bad dream was about, it can’t come true.” Her lips offered a small smile, the mother leaning down to place a kiss to the center of her son’s forehead. “I learned that from someone very smart.”

“Dun wanna talk ‘bouddit,” he mumbled around the digits. The dry sobs came then, his thin frame shaking and jerking from them.

“Alright,” she said, drawing a deep breath and exhaling slowly. “What would you like, then?”

“Wanna go home.”

“Oh? And why is that?” One hand held him snug in the cradled embrace, the other moving to push damp tendrils of ebony from his forehead.

“I miss mommy.” He released her robes, batting her hand away from his face. “toppit!”

“Be sweet, Aeo,” she said with a patience only love can bring. “I’m being sweet to you, so be sweet to me.”

“’Sowee,” he replied, turning and ducking his face into the crook of her arm. “I want mommy.”

“Was mommy in your dream?”

“I don’t wanna talk ‘bouddit!” His voice echoed off the walls, even as it shook.

Why is he so scared?

<<c>>

He began to cry again, the anger that had flared disappearing quickly as the tears returned. He slumped down, rigidity from the rage fleeting.

“Aeo,” she began, her voice full of that placid patience. “When you’re scared, it’s easy to become angry and lash out. It might even make you feel better at that moment. However, in the long run, it will only hurt you. If you’re scared, sweetheart, talk about it. Sometimes what you’re afraid of is nothing more than fear.”

“Dun wanna.”

“You know, even I get scared. And sometimes, I feel it might be easier to become angry than to say something frightens me. But I can hurt people when I do that, so… I talk about what makes me afraid. Some people might think that is silly. Some might even call me names. But you know what?”

“Wha?” he said, falling still as he listened. Whether it was the actual words or simply her tone and voice that calmed him was unclear.

“I don’t care what others think. I do care about hurting the feelings of those I love, however. So, in order to not do that, I’ll talk instead of getting angry and lashing out. And if I just need a little reassurance about something? I’ll ask for it. Like…” She paused as she righted him, sitting him to face her and leaning in to press another kiss to his forehead. “Like if you wanted to know you’re my favorite baby boy? All you’d have to do is ask.”

“Fav'ritt baby boy?” he queried, his brows lifting. The fingers slipped from his lips as he pouted. “I no baby!”

“Well, you’re my favorite Mister A. B. Boldvalor that I know, then,” she said with a grin. She would not dare mention he was the only Mister A. B. Boldvalor she knew. “And if you ever doubt that, just ask me. I’ll remind you. I’ll try my best not to let you forget it, mind you, but if you ever wonder… if you ever doubt… simply ask.”

“’kay.” He gave a weak nod.

“It’s perfectly normal to be afraid when we’re in situations we’re unsure of or doing new things. But never forget that love overcomes fear, and someone who loves you will always have the patience to reassure you, even if it’s the hundred billionth time. Do you know why?”

<<c>>

“Wai?”

“Because that’s what we do for those we love; we give them smooches, and hugs, and patience, and kindness. We care for them. And the ones that really love you? They’ll give it right back.” Her fingertips brushed over his cheeks, then moved to daub the tip of his nose. “Okay?”

“’kay,” he mumbled, reaching up to rub his damp eye with a balled fist.

“So… something scared you. But I’m here. Nothing will hurt you.”

“’kay.” He fussed, wiggling on her lap. “I wanna go home, doh. I meees mommy.”

“Alright. Then we’ll go home. Tomorrow, we’ll pack up our things, stop by the market and buy a few presents for your sisters and your mommy, then we’ll travel. Okay?” She lifted both hands, cupping his chin as she leaned in to kiss each of his temples.

“I wanna buy Mo’dwa some fwooots. I teenk she like dem, kay? Like nanas.”

“Yes,” she said, grinning in the dim light as she stood. Bella sat her son on his bed, crossing to his armoire to retrieve a fresh set of pajamas. Moving back to him, she redressed him, tossing the sweat-dampened clothing into a nearby hamper. “She likes her nanas.”

“Mebbe I gets Eeeams sumfin? Mo’dwa sweets on heem, so dat might make her smoile, too.”

“Well, that would be very nice of you. And I think he’d appreciate that.” She lifted him up, pulling back the sheets and laying him down. Tucking him in, she hovered over him, propping her weight on one arm. “You’re very sweet. Never let go of that, and never let fear make your anger overrule your kindness. Now… have some good dreams for me, and we’ll get presents tomorrow before we go home. I promise.”

“’kay.” He forced his eyes closed, squinting hard.

“Silly boy,” she said, leaning down to kiss his cheek. “I love you.”

“Love you, minn’da.”

She rose to her full height, crossing to the door. Before she could open it, his voice stopped her.

“Minn’da,” he said, tiny voice full of panic.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“You stay, pwease? Jess a leetul?”

“You want to me stay? I can. You scared of something?”

“I scared dat…” He paused, giving a small grunt before he exhaled forcefully. “I scared dat if you go, den you might be gone too long, den no come back. Like my dweem.”

She parted her lips to ask more about the dream, but considering she wanted him calm instead of becoming more wound up, she eschewed the question. Instead, she crossed back to his bed, slumping down to the side of it and leaning her back against it.

“Then I’ll stay. But… just so you know… even if I go somewhere for a little bit, I wouldn’t ever leave forever. I know where my home is, and it’s where my heart belongs. And you should always listen to what your heart tells you. Sometimes, it’s smarter than your mind.” She reached up and took his hand, turning her side to the bed and resting her weight on her arm.

The shadows of the room hugged to them as Bella listened to her son’s breathing fall to a slow, deep rhythm as sleep overtook him. Her own breath’s pace changed to match, the Knight’s head coming to rest on the mattress as she drifted off. Even in slumber, she did not release his hand.

She was right where she needed to be.

-end-