Draagoness

Motoko Aoki lay on her bed and sketched in utter boredom. Even the pictures she drew looked eerily bored. Not wanting go downstairs to face her parents, she rolled over onto her back and stared at the ceiling. Suddenly, her phone rang. She reached over to her side table and plucked if off the desk without tearing her eyes from their stare. Motoko brought it to her ear. "Hello?" She asked, a little mad that the phone had made her blink. "Hey, Motoko, you HAVE to see something! I found the BEST game ever!" It was a really excited Shinji, her best friend. Her heart quickened "What did you find?" She asked in her most disinterested voice.

Leiora landed, her hand smacking the ground, pain shooting through her bones up her arm. The earth was ash coloured and cold, stripping away and stealing the warmth from her bare palm. Her hip and then thigh came next, taking some of the strain off her sore limb. She felt the tender flesh bruise. Late fall was here. The wise trees had dropped their warm cover of leaves to warm their delicate roots; several somersaulted and eddied past in the gentle wind; the slight chill nibbling at Leiora's poorly clothed body and causing the tiniest of tremors. Frost iced the leaves and styled the pale grass into sharp spikes. She felt the gaia, the earth

Its night: Moonlight, sweet zephyr, clear sky; the smell of wet grass, asphalt and exhaust. Huddled in singular blanket, ragged, in shadows, chalk tucked into my threadbare pocket, I lie. Chalk rainbows, intricate designs, fantastical pictures, empty pop cans, a raccoon rummaging in garbage; these happen around me. On the cusp of dreamless sleep and consciousness, my hand reaches up and pets protruding chalk affectionately. Long dissipated evanescent hopes; Regret, only regret remains. When Plans fall apart, when dreams sour and the romance of life ebbs, cling to what you love.

You are real in a synthetic world. What you live is real, what you do is real, who you love is real. Mistakes can be fixed, hearts can be patched, in time, all things are healed; but now, now is the time and place to do the only real action. To care. The world's destruction is in Indifference. Selfishness.

The small green dragon told her to change, and she did. She was getting better, but she was still slow at it. She saw his annoyance, but didn't care: he was her captor. They flew around the great reddish-mountains for what seemed like hours. Her newly used wings with little developed muscle strained at the intense work. Below them was a meandering stream, snaking its way around the rock haphazardly. A small amount of trees lined the water, but where the green stopped, the rock face rose up steeply into a vertical wall. If she had been in the gully, there was no way out but down the ford -- or flying. From the air, the mountains were ver

"I don't normally like hitting a girl, but for someone like you, I believe you can take care of yourself, if I'm wrong just cry and ill know to stop." With a cocky grin he lurches forward, trips halfway, rolls with the sword, then lunges out of the roll straight at Mirah, blade leading. Mirah began her preparation, just when Hat started toward her. She touched the side of the blade on both sides of her face for good luck, then, brought her sword up into a crescent to block his oncoming attack. Their two swords met with resonating clang. With blazing eyes Mirah grinned at her opponent and mockingly stifled a false yawn with her left hand whil