Mi’Raah walked in bare feet at the Jystians. They had set him down and were stripping off his ornaments already. She outstretched an arm, silver beads of what she was made of pooled in the webs between her fingers. Fingernails gave wisps of white smoke,… Read More
The Trystian Channel was a long stretch of treacherous shoals. To prevent trade ships rending their hulls or choking the passage, two sandbars on either side of the blue stretch had been built up with white stone to create one bright aisle connecting both isles… Read More
When Arudelle received word of Mi’Raah’s demise, he was at cards with the only two Captains still wealthy enough to stand the Pirate King’s cheating. “Come now, woman. Calm down and you’re dripping on my good hand.” Mi’Raah, soaking wet from head to toe in… Read More
Mi’Raah heard about it from her prison cell. “And then…?” A manumitted Trystian paced on the right side of her bars in a fine red robe. Syramon crossed his arms. “It boils down to want. Women want to dance, men want to watch them–no matter… Read More
People should not eat alongside horses. The noise is terrible. But, clearly, the Jystians had resolved this for generations by having music at their feast days. Nothing that might startle the equine creatures, but enough to eliminate the smack and cud-chewing of animals arranged at… Read More
There was some shuffling in the horse-god’s ornate stall. Koriandra assumed that Odeon and his High Priest might get an earful at feed-time, but when she rounded the corner, sword in hand, there was only a familiar-looking obnoxious, dark-haired man clutching feedbag to his chest.… Read More
Mi’Raah, once again somebody’s high priestess–though, all over Jyst, they weren’t yet clear whose she was–enjoyed this fresh new status the contest gifted, with an elegant morning. At present, however, Mi’Raah was beginning to question whether it was a bath in milk-and-honey hallowed female politicos… Read More
Arudelle was pleased with himself for finally dyeing his hair in just the way he imagined Mi’Raah did. “You’ll all go blind!” He laughed, and pointed at each of his sailors. One by one, Arudelle informed them that he was the High Priest of the… Read More
A story crafted from three random words: Olmsted, feather headdress of a coastal Incan fertility and dealth god, M.G.H. You can thank the March 2005 National Geographic magazine for these randomly selected phrases that I will now turn into a witty story this morning… Doctor… Read More
There are many tongues in the world to tell so many thousands of its stories, and so it was lucky for Mi’Raah to wash up on shore in spectacular fashion: rolled over and left by some wave exhausted with her after-taste, and at gods-obvious noon… Read More
Randitty 