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The Hummingbird

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The Hummingbird last won the day on April 28 2018

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About The Hummingbird

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    Penguin Overlord

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    Writing, drawing, reading, sleeping
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    Expert Charcoal Wielder, Conte Crayon Adept, Surveyor of Acrylics

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  1. Next to her own warped reflection, Garnet’s face also looked weary and exhausted. What they had endured for only a few hours had beaten at the soul so thoroughly he felt he might shatter if the day demanded more. He felt battered, in body and mind, so much that death right now would have felt like a relief. An endless, dreamless sleep would have been welcome next the nightmare he had pushed through, as if he were some kind of hero. He couldn’t imagine what Adira was enduring then, what memories she would never forget. He was still dabbing absentmindedly at her back when her fingers reached up and seized hold. He froze, expected her to throw his hand off in hate and indignation, but instead she held it close. And what she said next absolved him from al the guilt and sin he had accumulated throughout the years of a hard, enslaved life. He had been with other women before. He had heard those words of devotion before, from men and women alike, pretending they served his heart. Maybe they even sincerely believed they did. But they all disappeared, in one way or another, and he had gone on his way, deserted again and again. They either left, or he did – it was simply the way life was. No one ever stays for another. Not for long. That was the way life was, but now… He would change that. He decided it quickly, before the pain of memories and abandonment could change his mind. He dropped the sponge into the water, where it sank and bobbed up, floating along the water now streaked with dust and grime. There was another tub here, waiting for him, but that could wait. He tilted his head over her shoulder, and kissed her, softly and gently. Let me protect you. He didn’t say it aloud. Women like her didn’t need nor want to be protected. It offended them. So instead, he gave her the oath made to be broken. Made to be kept. “I promise… I will never leave you.”
  2. Eyeing the rattle, Zenahriel admired the beauty of even such a small thing as this. He accepted it with a nod, smiling as he gave it a quick shake, the chime emitting a sweet sound before being put away in the satchel he kept as his side. Though it had been many, many years since he had directly dealt with children, he still remembered the daughter of his host, retaining the memories of when she too was but an infant. Yes, children liked “this sort of thing.” He turned back to the stall, picking up one bauble after the other. The merchant stood off the side, offering suggestions and doing his best to pry as much money from Zenahriel as possible. In the end, the High Lord settled on a circlet, a high-quality ring of gold and cut crystal small enough to fit the queen’s brow. It was elegant and lovingly crafted, and would be a striking addition to her dark hair. Thereafter, the rest of the market was browsed leisurely and thoroughly. Wordlessly, Zenahriel allowed himself to relax as he walked by Rou’s side, observing the goods of the stalls and the various items sold by hawkers of every race and class. Such was the variety of culture and race here that he almost could blend in despite his height and the wings flowing down his back. Indeed, even those who gave him a second glance were too preoccupied with their own lives that their gaze did not linger too long. All in all, it was a pleasure to walk in anonymity and comfort. Unfortunately, it did not last long as the sim made a quick journey through the sky. As it began to touch the edge of the horizon in swaths of gold and brilliant shades of red, Fowler appeared, with such a display of grandeur and ostentation carriages that even Zenahriel himself sighed, avoiding the look Rou shot him. In some things, Zenahriel was a simpler man and hardly sought attention, and traveled lightly. It made for quicker, easier, and stealthier travel, attracting less stares and expressing a humbler attitude. The latter, he found, made others like one better, even from kings and queens who were used to vanity and pompous personalities. But there was no helping it. Taking up one of the great Clydesdale horses, Zenahriel spoke quietly to the horse, soothing it with his low voice. It nickered, snorting distrust as this strange man whose scent and sight was so different from the regular humans it was used to. The handler had given it the generic name Thunder. Zenahriel patted and caressed the horse until it calmed, and finally mounted it with one bound. The horse shifted under his weight, pawed the earth, and settled. All was ready. With the sound of clopping hooves, creaking wagon wheels and harsh footfalls, the assembly entered the Ellwood. The cursed ground upon which so many had died, and hunted, and been transformed from great monstrosities to poisonous poppies tainting the air with their slumber-inducing seeds. It was a pleasant sight, to be sure. Despite its unkind reputation, the Ellwood was still beautiful. The green of the trees and overgrowing plant life shone of health and vigor, undisturbed by the intrusions of men and beast. The colorful poppies, some a brilliant pink and yellow, flourished in great abundance, though upon growing close to them everyone made sure to cover their faces with filtering masks and kerchiefs. It was almost a pleasant ride, but Zenahriel disliked the soundless environment, the unnatural quiet of the wood that lacked the skitter of squirrels or chirping of birds. Where before it had been a thriving paradise of wildlife, now it was not a land that welcomed life at all. They came upon a cabin, abandoned when the tragedy had struck. It was wrecked, completely in shambles, the door hanging off its hinges and the windows broken. Who knew what lay inside? Not far from its grounds, lay a dusty, dirty doll, no doubt the plaything of a child who lived, and perhaps died, here. “I pray no such a tragedy will happen to Umbra,” Zenahriel murmured. “it has stood strong against the Whispernight, but there are horrors in the world worse even than that.” He looked around cautiously, his eyes sweeping across trees and thorny bushes and poppies, endless poppies. “Keep a close watch about you, my Empress,” he said gravely. “My brother did his best to purify this place, but some things find way to survive nonetheless.”
  3. Basically, a supernaturally-attuned man lives a fairly normal life, except for a friendly ghost. But when a werewolf shows up in his bathtub, things quickly escalate into mysterious and sometimes frightening encounters with all sorts of equally mysterious people. The relationships the mains have with one another is believable and sometimes even kind of touching. Every page is in full color, which, while not necessary, a cool bonus. It moves at a steady pace, kind of slowly at times, but it's never really actually boring. I haven't read all of it though, so I can't say too much.
  4. What's the problem? Or rather, what's her problem? Is she trying to take everything you own?
  5. Looking for Group xkcd Wilde Life
  6. Whatever color or design she chose to wear, Gabriela was the very image of beauty. Her serene manner and composure only added to this, but there was still a feeling in the air that Zenahriel was no stranger to. It was a sadness – a weary, tired aura that permeated the otherwise peaceful environment of Gabriela’s simply furnished room. The Black Queen had gone through much, seen and endured tragedy of all levels and heights, and it seemed the future would bring more of the same. For a moment, Zenahriel regretted coming here, as much as he regretted his part in bringing those tragedies. Unfortunately, he was too irritated, too annoyed this day. His eyes scanned her room, roaming from corner to corner, making it clear he didn’t believe her. His mate had to be here, he felt him. The feeling was so strong, it was impossible that Raphael wasn’t here. Without asking for permission, Zenahriel stepped into the room, pausing only to shut the door behind him, making escape equally unlikely. Just as the door slipped closed, the throbbing feeling of Raphael’s presence abated. Just as it had been here, so great it was nearly uncomfortable, it was gone. Zenahriel’s brow furrowed in frustrated confusion. What was happening? His eyes finally landed on Gabriela, and stayed on her, as if realizing she was here for the first time. “Your Majesty,” he finally greeted her, rather stiffly. Another pause, and then he sighed. He straightened his posture and bowed. “I apologize for my unseemly intrusion. As you can tell… I’ve been looking for our Lord, but I’ve been unable to locate him. I thought I sensed him here, but apparently, I was wrong.” The problem was, he was not often wrong. That too nettled him. Zenahriel had heard of the troubling affairs in Orisia. It seemed it was all true. The land was quiet, but disturbed, with the Queen helpless to aid her own kingdom. “Your Maj… Gabriela,” he finally said, her name nearly a plead, “surely, not all is lost. I know I have not been here for you as I should have been, but let me be here for you now. I have never stopped…” His words faded, stopping as again the throb returned. Like heartbeat, it shot through the room in great pulses, stronger than ever before. Zenahriel’s eyes narrowed in a glare as he searched again the room, and at last, at long last, finally landed on the very source of the pulse. But it was not Raphael he saw. It was Gabriela. He moved like lightning, was suddenly looming over her, breathing in her sweet scent with his wings shadowing over them both. “What is this?” he demanded. “Why do you feel like him?”
  7. Sprained my ankle getting to work, then whacked it hard on a six wheeler. I yelled, loud, and and the courtesy clerk nearby called management. After listening to what happened and my worries about still having to pack some pies and mop the floor, they said (paraphrasing) "Let me tell you about my ingrown toenail first. Blahblahblah. Forget about the damn pies, go home now."
  8. Staring into the fire, it was a long time before Zenahriel finally gave up. Wingtips flicking, he turned from the hearth, his dark eyes narrowed irritably at the phenomenon he had never before encountered and could not properly describe. He paced across the room to the window and stared in aggravation at the cool night sky, speckled with stars and streaked with moonlight. It was a peaceful evening, quiet and undisturbed, but it did not help his mood. As of late, Raphael had been distant, both emotionally and physically. His company, which had once preferred Zenahriel, seemed to now stray towards anyone – everyone – else. As the Blood God’s mate, this did not suit Zenahriel in the least. So he had made the quick venture to Orisia, intending to find Raphael and speak to him about the matter. Only he couldn’t find him. Clearly, Raphael was here. The bond shared between the High Lord and the King of Umbra had become quite strong, and usually the two could find another wherever they were. Zenahriel could sense Raphael here, in this very castle, and yet the path Zenahriel could often so easily find and follow seemed… tangled, snarled, and oddly dampened at times. It was everywhere and consequently, led nowhere. He had tried at length to disentangle the knots, delving deep into the bond within the confines of his room, to no avail. Muttering to himself, Zenahriel turned away from the window and made his way out the door into the hallway, hating that he had to go searching for his mate. For quite a while he wandered the castle, finding no success, before deciding to try the one place he was most likely to find his wayward mate. In truth, he didn’t like going there much anymore, but in his impatience soon found himself standing outside the door that led to Gabriela’s private chamber. For the first time, he didn’t knock or call out. Instead, he flung the door open. At which point the slow, thrumming feeling of his bond with Raphael suddenly increased tenfold into a throb.
  9. Silent as falling snow, Garnet stared at Adira. It was not her that he saw, not her body, but her anguish and frantic state, her heartbreaking emotion that he took in with fierce stabs of guilt. Shame washed over him as he remembered his failure to guard and protect her. Now quiet, wrenching sobs wracked her body, and the knowledge that this was his fault wracked his soul. For all of his life, Garnet had been trained to protect those less able, for those who needed it for whatever reason. He had been trained to understand and accept the duties of honor and the heavy burden of dying for justice. Most of all, he had been trained to fight for others. A simple walk up a mountainside should have been nothing. Instead, it had turned into a disaster. He couldn’t have foreseen the direwolves or their god, nor the evil that had lurked in this labyrinth. He could have not foreseen the vile challenges that lay ahead. It was not his fault, and yet, as he watched Adira suffer there in the seething water, blood and water mixing and running down her hair back… Who else could be blamed? He could not stand to watch her, alone and bleeding in heart, mind, and soul, like that. “Adira,” he said, first a whisper she would not hear, and then louder so that she would, “Adira!” He strode, hesitantly, into the washroom. “Please… let me… let me help you.” Standing behind her so that she would keep her decency he reached around to grasp hold of the sponge, floating in the bubbly, herb-scented water. With gentle dabs and strokes, he began washing her back, rinsing away the blood and cleaning the bruised skin. He worked round her body, sliding the sponge delicately down her sides and shoulders. He tried to concentrate on that, only that. Again, he failed. “Adira… please…” Forgive me, he wanted to say. Forgive me. “Tell me you hate me.” It was the least she could do, after all.
  10. Crushed was too strong a word, and crestfallen too light and whimsical. Garnet stared at his food as Adira rose and left him, disappearing into the hallway rimmed with lights. Silence fell around him; he leaned down, picked up the fork and put it back on the table. He was no longer hungry, and it wasn’t just because he had eaten his fill. Ryzerus, watching him, finally stood with a languid grace, sauntering over to the table. He sat across from Garnet, picking up a sweet red apple and biting into it. “Well, I guess that answers your question of whether you’re failure or not,” he said between crunches of fruit. Garnet was silent for a moment. Then, “Are you why I chose her to guide?” Ryzerus scoffed. “Oh, no. I don’t meddle in affairs like that. You were stupid like that yourself. Like I said, it could have been anyone… I merely took advantage of your presence. Oh, don’t flatter yourself. If it wasn’t for that sword I doubt you would have made it so far. Look, you need to eat some more. If you don’t, you’ll collapse on the way back, and I’m not your nursing mother. When you get to your room, you’ll find some clothes so you don’t freeze to death. Hurry up, will you?” It took much effort, but Garnet obeyed, forcing himself to she and swallow more of food. He didn’t smell nor taste it, but his body craved nourishment. By the time he was done several more plates were emptied and stacked to the side. He finally stood, took the sword, and left, feeling Ryzerus’ golden eyes on his back as he headed to the lit hallway behind the thrones. The hallway led to more doors, but the torches led him to only one of them, a simple, oak door that was already open. The brightly lit room was enormous fully furnished with a bed, several bits of furniture and odds and ends, a wardrobe filled with various clothing, and bookshelves. The last was conspicuously empty, with only a few scrolls and parchments left to languish. The room had another open door, one that led to a washroom, complete with basins and tubs already filled with steaming water. Beyond that was a privy sweetened with herbs. Everything was clean, and though the space was almost unsettlingly large, felt comfortable with furniture taking up room that otherwise would have been uncomfortably bare. Garnet set the sword on a table and looked to Adira.
  11. I like to read a familiar book and eat my favorite snack (chips or Doritos) on the side when I really want to just veg. I don't know why, but it has to be as book I've read before and is preferably easy to read. Reading a new book or something that requires a lot of analysis or thought is a different kind of relaxation for me. I like to play video games, either the PC or the PS4. I have other consoles, including a Sega Genesis, Sega Dreamcast, Super Nintendo, Game Boy Advance and DS, and the original Xbox. Currently, I'm playing Fate/Extella Link and Tales of Berseria. Tales is very good, I'm glad I purchased it. I also draw and occasionally post to fellow nerds on some online cult called Valucre.
  12. Don't remind me of the desolate wasteland that is my bank account. Oh well. I'm rich in life!
  13. Too bad we can't have some kind of button or switch and let people choose which one to see for themselves.
  14. I prefer real-time management and ability to carry on real-time conversation, which I personally feel would be welcoming to new members, therefore I like the chatbox.
  15. This is the best day ever. Congratulations, Sam.
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