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papadjinn.bsky.social
PapaDjinn is querying
@papadjinn.bsky.social
790 followers 230 following 3.4K posts
|I DO NOT SUPPORT AI CONTENT| The public BlueSky for Twitch Streamer, Papadjinn. Artist and Writer, currently querying my novel as well as drafting it's sequel. My sugar-bomb @psprincess.bsky.social ~
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papadjinn.bsky.social
PapaDjinn is querying @papadjinn.bsky.social · Sep 23
Man, last week Tok was going for a jog in the woods. Now people expect him to fight in a war and lead people?! He's not even qualified to be a barista! I do not know that the True Mother is thinking!!
'A Sword in the Snow'

#UnhingedPit #A #F #Q
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reaper-man.bsky.social
It's the weekend at last! Time to finally edit my book! 📖

Or, you know, begin to write and illustrate a brand new children’s story inspired by my friends instead...
🐦‍⬛🦌🦉🦫🐇🦊

#squishyfriends
Text: Once they’d brushed past the swaying marigolds, and hopped across a patch of pinkish purple heather, and narrowly escaped a charging butterfly, they came upon a puddle. “Oh dear,” said Sam, leaning down to inspect it. The puddle looked back at him in a somewhat suspicious manner. “That’s quite a large puddle, isn’t it?” Sam said worriedly. “Do you suppose it’s friendly?” “It looks rather miffed, Sam,” Emily observed. “Perhaps a bit more ruffled than other puddles I’ve seen.” “It’s pronounced poodle,” said the poodle, who was white and fluffy and had excellent hearing. “My goodness,” said Sam. “Are you sure?” The poodle elected not to answer. Instead it said, “And what might you be?” “I’m a beaver,” said Sam. He turned slightly and pointed at his flat tail, in case there were doubts. “And this is Emily. She's an owl.” “As I suspected,” said the poodle, who most certainly hadn't. He had never in his life met a beaver or an owl, and thought they were both some sort of unusual bear. Picture: A hand-drawn illustration of an owl and a beaver sitting behind some orange marigolds, smiling at a grumpy poodle sitting behind some purple heather. Two butterflies float above.
November 29, 2025 at 9:34 PM
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woodenvelt.bsky.social
Spencer & co are on the road in the wee hours.

From book 2 of my romantasy wip about a priest of the dead and a thief with a heart of gold.

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingPrompts #WritingCommunity #Wrencer
The world was awash in the gray blue shadows of predawn, that liminal time before the sun’s rays have truly begun to peek out from the cover of the horizon, but they’ve started to at least think about it. They’d been riding three hours, as Spencer judged it, and his sense of time at night was fairly sharp. Ever since they’d made the turn west onto Abbey Road, half an hour ago, the ground on either side of the roadway had given way to more and more wet pockets of marshy water dotted with little hillocks and rises. Mist clung to the water, forming little rivulets and eddying swirls of fog that could be hiding any number of dreadful things. Not that I’m imagining an alligator jumping out of the fog and biting my horse’s leg clean off, Spencer told himself for the fifth or sixth time. Never occurred to me at all. None of them had gotten a full night’s sleep and fatigue nibbled at the edges of everyone’s nerves, but it was Wren that worried him the most. Where Bruce and Molly looked weary, Wren looked haggard. Dark crescents rimmed her eyes and by Spencer's count, she’d done the tell tale bobble and jerk of someone nodding off then startling back awake three times in twice as many minutes.
November 30, 2025 at 2:40 PM
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shandoraexplorer.bsky.social
This might be my favourite out of those #Drabbles

Like... #ElegysOC, honey, you gotta tell #RolimOC what to do with this and not just trust that he figures it out himself!
"What in the world is that now?" I laugh as Elegys presents me with a colorful orb. "Candy?" "Almost. It's chewing gum," she grins and hands it to me. "Used to love it as a kid. It comes in many different flavors and colors." I nod slowly and pop the piece into my mouth. It certainly deserves its name, chewy as it is. But it tastes good too—fruity with just the right amount of sweetness. When I finally manage to swallow the thing, I ask for another. "You swallowed it?" Elegys asks with a look of horror. "Well… yeah."
November 30, 2025 at 2:00 PM
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eliwoodsgheist.com
Happy #WIPSnips 30 - Number!

From RETURN TO BLUDEYE BEACH. Edie is having a stressful phone call from her mother, with some unresolved questions with Milo.
A soft beep sounded in her ear. When Edie checked her phone display, it was Milo’s phone number waiting to come through. “Edie?” her mother prompted. “Wow,” she managed. “That’s great, Mom. I don’t even know what to say.” Another soft beep. His call was still waiting. “What’s wrong? Is it the boy you’ve been seeing?”  “Milo. His name is Milo, Mom.”
November 30, 2025 at 2:13 PM
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jaredgoring.com
#WIPSnips "Number" from Fight or Flight

AL ruminates on their job as coalboy.
Ebook screenshot from Fight or Flight: "I watched her leave the shop in awe. I’d never get that old. Never even dreamed of it, certainly never hoped. I dreamed of greatness, sure, but never age - if I was going to do something grand, I knew it would need to be soon. She’d gone through twenty-seven coalboys, the Compass had - twenty-seven of my fellows who’d died in or on or around her. The canvaslads had lost around a dozen, mostly just falling free of their lines although rumour had it one had hanged himself in the nest of ropes they slept in up in the envelope. The planksmen had even lost four or five. Wasn't as sure of any of the others' numbers. It wasn’t a safe job. It was just one that kept me fed, clothed, sheltered. Alive, for now at least, but I knew it would never let me get old."
November 30, 2025 at 2:19 PM
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charliedeltawrites.bsky.social
November 30th – number

Fox is really getting sick of everyone giving her the runaround.

(Also, trying to do hashtags! #Dawn'sBlood )

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts
“Here’s the thing.” Fox was on her feet now, hand still outstretched. “I’m not done talking yet. It has been a bad week. A frankly preposterous number of people want me dead. I hate swamps. I hate caves. I especially hate that some of you people might be related to me. “I am tired and I am pissed off, and I came here to finally get some answers. I will be Void-damned if I am leaving here, or being executed, without getting some. So how about you sit down and start talking, instead of wasting my time?” Av’ry could hear her teeth grinding as she spoke. The priest’s jaw was on the floor now; he stood, unmoving, eyes darting between her and the fire. Then, the flames leapt to the fabric wall coverings. “Can’t you do something about that?” C’alle turned to Fox. “Sorry.” She shrugged. “I’m not really all that good at this.” While that wasn’t untrue, Av’ry was pretty sure she was going out of her way to be unhelpful. C’alle swore and grabbed a rug to try and beat the flames out, pushing the still stunned priest away from the growing inferno as he did. Av’ry sighed and rose to help him.
November 30, 2025 at 8:37 AM
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smoking-gnu.bsky.social
G'morning #WIPSnips! Just a quick breather in-between a mad-dash morning. Is a bit of a different story for Jennifer in TLC here, though.
#WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts
I look up at the clock to see that it’s half-past eight. Or it would be back home. The sun isn’t up here on this world yet. “Home,” I say to myself, still sprawled on the bed on my stomach, chin on the octagonal cushion and staring at the apartment window. It’s a cheap place that Rondu picked out, cheap but secure enough to suffice. I’ve been living here for three weeks now, barely ever actually ‘living’ in this place in-between meetings and functions and parties and you damn well name it. Most of my time is spent in what could charitably be called flying cars, or those flying things from star wars movies. Well that’s the thing about living in an… what did Driona call it? An Eperopolis? Basically a city covering an entire continent from edge to edge. No one is walking anywhere in this sucker that isn’t in the same building or around the corner. Ten billion people, all in one single city. My mind tries to comprehend the number again as I laboriously drag myself out of bed and walk towards the window. It’s floor-to-ceiling height, and it’s one of the most magnificent views I’ve ever seen, even if the place is almost as rundown-looking as Trinaru did, so long ago.
November 30, 2025 at 8:41 AM
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tarasgeir.bsky.social
First day after a long walk and Cailo has concerns other than his feet. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts
November 30, 2025 at 9:23 AM
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jundlife.bsky.social
Our hero gets caught looking at some very sexy tidal charts
From "HatWIP"
#WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #WIPSnips
I find myself engrossed with a graph relating to the pull of the moon on the tides. Depending on the alignment of the planet, sun, moon and our place in our elliptic orbit the tides also wax and wane. We even have a word for when these astrological forces combine to make the highest tides possible, we call them Perigean tides. We also call them ‘king tides’ because people struggle with big words. “What the fuck are you looking at now?” a voice cuts through my oceanianic reverie. Fuck, it’s Mel. I was not mentally prepared to engage with her right now. I look down at my nautical chart filled top to bottom with numbers representing oscillating tidal flows. I am not making a very good case for being a normal person. “Would you believe me if I told you this is about the moon?” I ask, trying to give her a friendly smile.
November 30, 2025 at 11:55 AM
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sayaashrah.bsky.social
#WIPSnips 30. "Number"

MythAugust knowledge will come in handy for this snippet of Infernal lore x)

#ChroniclesOfTheRealms #SayaAshrah #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts
“I know you want to fight, but the time isn’t right.” Even without her formulating her thoughts, the celestial sword knew what she was thinking. “You may think the azahnu is too absorbed in its study of me to pay attention to anything else, but that’s not how their brains work. They’re too sophisticated for such blunders, their awareness extending far beyond the boundaries of common minds.” Ashrah regretted not having dedicated more effort to studying the race. As powerful and dreaded as the azahnu were, their numbers counted as the lowest among high-class demons since Archdevils Ashk’ril, Arunnarum, and Malekhall led a crusade against them with the goal of crushing them into extinction. But a few survived. Hid. And in time, the Netherrealm heard their names again, millions of Pulses of isolation sculpting them into even mightier demons.
November 30, 2025 at 12:21 PM
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pamelaelaela.bsky.social
Where Danbi’s journey begins. 📖

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #AmWriting #AmQuerying
📚💙
Five more minutes, and I’m free. Five more minutes, and I’m done for the summer with this sticky four-aisle corner store where clock hands silent-crawl instead of tick. Five more minutes, and I can start finding answers. Hopefully. I unglue my thighs from the metal stool to bend down and pull up my backpack. It’s August in North Carolina, and the air is gelatinous. I push aside Brontë, Vonnegut, Whitman, and Woolf to take out my book. The book. The one with nothing on the cover. No title, no author. I snuck it out of my mom’s closet when I was seven from the single box of my father’s things I found there. I guess six is the limit—the number of years that can pass before a person starts digging for answers to questions like “What’s my father’s name?” and “Where do I come from?” when none are freely offered. It seems like there should’ve been much more considering all he left behind, but apparently an entire future of happy family-dom was reducible to one brown box. My gaze falls on the fading gray pencil lines filling the book’s margins. My father’s handwriting. The broad, swooping letters form the same three phrases on repeat: The world beyond the bark. The reading. I must return home.
November 30, 2025 at 12:38 PM
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acturek.bsky.social
#WIPSnips #fantasy #WritingCommunity #WriteSky #number

It’s been discovered that Rushak … borrowed …a scroll. His large corvid friend’s flown off with the silver case. The scroll may or may not be inside.

- Brother’s Keeper, my fantasy WIP about two brothers bound by a misunderstood power.
"I will do everything I can to—" Rushak began. "Do not speak unless you are spoken to," the eldest Läshalyn snapped. "Tryla-knows-who or what may see it now. I would expel you from our NUMBER, but your fate is up to Mordan, for now." He turned. "Well? Shall he leave your service?" "None but a mind like Rushak's would seek this kind of mischief." Mordan hesitated a beat and Rushak, feeling submerged, glimpsed sunlight flashing on a water's surface above him while Mordan held him under. "I don't wish to see him go." He gasped in a lungful of air. "What?" Lady Cesra threw up her hands. "You speak as if his crime is a virtue! Are you going to reward him now?" Her middle brother elbowed her to silence and Lara covered a smile with her hand. Mordan observed Rushak. "It's said you are a lodestone for trouble. I begin to see it." Brother's Keeper A.C. Turek
November 30, 2025 at 12:46 PM
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professoremily.bsky.social
#WIPSnips #amwriting #writingcommunity #writers #writesky

Long snip today, sorry! 😅

Elisgood Blake & his team are investigating an old forger hideout... which may not be quite as abandoned as they thought!

From #Charagma, my SFF dystopia where all people are marked saved or damned from birth.
“Hm,” was Will’s only grudging response. His frown said he was still doubtful, but Blake knew how much Will respected his opinion. After a moment he said, “Even Reprobates could still have Supernals.” “What, you mean demons?” said another Shepherd, using the improper term for a Dark Supernal, an Adversary—one who had gone against their nature and turned away from El. “You know demons can’t enter the walls of Arx Lucis, Hawkins. Now you’re just being paranoid.” But even Blake had a twinge of doubt in his heart at that. The idea that Arx Lucis was impenetrable to Adversaries was a common one spread among the people by the city leaders and the ever-babbling broadcasts on the telescreens. It was something most everyone in the city believed without question, just as the City Lords liked it. But most citizens also believed that the number of secret Reprobates in the city was far lower than it actually was. Perhaps young Will was right; perhaps the city was not quite as safe from demons as they all liked to think it was. And if there was any business a Dark Supernal might get up to in Arx Lucis, it would be protecting the human fiends who made an art of forging fake charagmas. Blake’s fingers shifted to his string of rose-colored beads. ... sword of light... beacon of truth... “Sister Sykes,” said a Paladin from the east corner of the room. “I think I’ve found something.” ... be thou my shield... The man took hold of a small lever in the wall—what looked like an old-fashioned power switch—and gave it a pull. A quick hm! of numen. But no machines came on. Instead, a section of the wall slid open. The next instant, like paint pigment shooting through water, both the Paladin and a large bite of the wall were turned to gray ash. The man’s remains dissolved in a pile on the ground. “Supernal!” Integrity Sykes barked.
November 30, 2025 at 1:20 PM
papadjinn.bsky.social
Number | Finally have some time after the holiday to post up Tok and he's got some new info. Missed you all and hope you've been great~
#WIPSnips #WritingCommunity #WriteSky #bvm #bipoc #amwriting #Fantasy #SFF
“There’s another party to worry about as well. You wouldn’t know them, but the group has a moderate level of fame – sometimes boarding on notorious rather than illustrious.” Othelia paused and moved to uncover a sheet of paper for him. Drawn on the page was a picture of a red arms crest with two thick capitalized Bs within the center. The pair of letters intersected as if one laid atop the other in the two-dimensional space. “They are known as the Burgundy Boys, and they are sell-swords.” “They are... sell-swords,” Tokonus pressed, his face scrunching up in confusion at the strange phrase. “Mercenaries – ah, that is to say, they do violent jobs for coin," Russel managed to state, seeming to realize that he had nearly not elaborated properly. “Mm, like murder, kidnapping, and torture,” Tokonus said more to himself than to his companions. Another disgusting side of the currency that flowed in and out of Acosta, but Tokonus had long since abandoned the idea of decency and currency intermingling. “I cannot deny that those are within the bounds of their services, but if they were simply criminals then they wouldn’t be able to act with impunity,” the chancellor added. “Mercenaries can be hired to protect villages and bolster militaries; they aren’t all bad.” “And that is the part that you should be worried about. It appears that the Burgundy Boys have a working relationship with the other lords of Dawnleaf.” Othelia pressed her fingertips together in front of her as if preparing herself. “That means that, with a large enough portion of coin or the right incentive, they may join against us. Additional soldiers would already be stress enough, but what’s more, we do not know the number of men they have on their side or where they may be held up.”
November 30, 2025 at 1:54 PM
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reaper-man.bsky.social
The Louvre may have to wait
a while! 😅 Lessons learned:

- Shading is damn difficult with actual
colour pencils instead of an app

- Blend where there's even a hint of black = Everything turns brown 😖

- Use a light touch for outlines. If the tip breaks, relax & erase instead of
drawing uneven lines
A poorly coloured sketch of an adorably round brown deer doing an evil cackle, while a small reddish-orange fox looks on worriedly.
November 26, 2025 at 10:58 PM
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sagetgreene.bsky.social
#Novmemeber 26

Share a meme that summarizes your Antagonist. It could be their villain arc, their goal, or something they would find funny.

Remember to use alt text!
26. A meme that summarizes your Antagonist A prompt game for the month of November, titled #Novmemeber (as in meme). Hosted by @sagetgreene.bsky.social . The bottom says "Have fun, interact, and remember alt text!" There is a silly emoji face with wild eyes and tongue sticking out, and some fall-style leaves in the corners.
November 26, 2025 at 5:00 AM
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sagetgreene.bsky.social
#Novmemeber 26

For the purposes of this prompt, I'm using the secondary antagonist, Mr Tropin.

Big mood, honestly.
A meme with a sort of synthwave, future-pop aesthetic. There is an angry-looking cat, a statue of a woman with tears, and a frowny face. "Whole day fucking busy, only get few money."
November 26, 2025 at 1:39 PM
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ddwardiswriting.bsky.social
No impede. So you get blocked.
Vincent flourished as though he were about to make an overhead cut. Andras took the bait and moved his guard. Vincent flicked his blade and managed to nick the forearm of Andras’ sword arm. To his credit, Andras didn’t drop his weapon. Instead he lunged forward and punched Vincent in the face with the guard of his sword. Vincent staggered backward. Before he could regain his balance, Andras kicked Vincent in the chest. Vincent fell flat on his back and Andras swung an overhead cut down towards Vincent. Raised his sword, Vincent blocked the blow rather than parrying it. And then he hammered his blade against Andras’ blade two more times in quick succession. “You’ve run out of ideas, sir.” Andras’ said with a grin. Then he noticed that Vincent was also grinning. “Victory! To Count Vincent Metternich!” The officiant yelled and pointed at the spray of blood. Vincent had shaken it loose from the wound on Andras’ arm by hammering their blades together.
November 26, 2025 at 5:17 PM
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sayaashrah.bsky.social
#WIPSnips 26. "Impede"

From "O, Pale Moon," a new short story in the #ChroniclesOfTheRealms mythology.

CW for implied drug addiction.

#WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts
His gaze strayed upwards, to a dark corner of the mountain. He couldn’t see it from here, but he knew the Cavern of the Pure lay there, waiting. A place for introspection, the monks would sometimes climb up there to give offerings to the Elder Gods and meditate. But the cavern served an even more meaningful purpose: deep in its heart lay the chamber where the monks went to cultivate, unimpeded, for as long as they could. Before Johnny arrived, Liu Kang had once stayed there for six months. Six months without food or water, without moving a muscle, uttering a single word, or opening his eyes to daylight, only cultivating his Breath. Kung Lao had gone as far as four months. Kai, two weeks, and even that impressed Johnny, who still struggled to meditate for more than an hour without getting fidgety. He had no delusions of ever getting close to Kung Lao’s level, let alone Liu Kang’s, but would he ever be there by Kai’s side? One step at a time, he reminded himself. Four years ago, he had been chasing doses of poisonous bliss, downing bottles of false hope. Three years ago, he had been atrophying in a hospital bed, unsure if he would ever get up again. And now here he was, not only out of bed but climbing mountains, practising real martial arts, and learning to control something he never knew he had: magic.
November 26, 2025 at 4:03 PM
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jundlife.bsky.social
Our hero muses on a nice morning - (sure hope nothing bad happens later)
From "HatWIP"
#WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #WIPSnips
I am back in the field. Daylight. The sun has just risen creating a second golden hour as the light sparkles off the wet grass. The weather front has pushed away the rain to the north and hurricane Erin is preventing anything else from coming from the south. It creates a perfect cloudless sky. Skiers would use the word ‘blue bird day’ up in Stowe or Okemo.
November 26, 2025 at 10:23 AM
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charliedeltawrites.bsky.social
November 26th – impede

Mikiva spies on Fox’s half-brother and a priest as they discuss a plan that has gone slightly awry.

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts
The tight confines of the tunnels and the unfamiliarity of the terrain had impeded her initially, but she was getting the hang of it much faster than they were catching on to her. The priest and the scout ducked down a side passage and Mikiva positioned herself just out of sight, near the mouth of the tunnel. “Now, do you want to explain what is going on?” D’arryd snarled. “What do you think? I did what you asked, and it all went to shit,” the priest snapped. “How so?” “I gave her the mixture, but it didn’t work like it does for the priests. Normally, they just enter a quiet trance state. Even the large dose wouldn’t explain…” “I don’t care, B’ennit.” The scout cut him off. “Whatever happened to her, it was probably just Their judgment. What matters is that it’s over, now.” “But it isn’t, D’arryd! You aren’t listening. She’s not… She escaped into the tunnels.” “What!? Why didn’t you stop her?” “I tried! How do you think I ended up like this?” he gestured to his face.
November 26, 2025 at 11:27 AM
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acturek.bsky.social
#WIPSnips #fantasy #WritingCommunity #WriteSky #impede -> hinder

Drisal must follow his Imperative. Shalhra, no ordinary horse, feels that urgency too.

- Brother’s Keeper, book one of my fantasy WIP about two brothers bound by a misunderstood power.
Drisal felt his face shriveling. The frigid airstream numbed his head. Night ran past without a stop; dawn was colder. The heat of his life trailed away behind him. But Shalhra, his faithful bolt of argent fire, reckoned neither cold nor miles. Rethen! Drisal cried, over and again. He could slow time. He could! He laughed, feeling Shahra's power flowing up through his thighs, denying his own exhaustion. Not steepness of mountain, sharpness of hail nor thickness of forest would HINDER his frantic chase. His love could not be scorned. Strange cries and drumbeats impinged from all directions. Trees flowed past like skeletal ghosts. He clenched his teeth until his jaw ached. He had ridden straight across the plain through the night, avoiding the Amarnénd, and figured he'd entered the forest near the Kigal foothills. Which meant Kudrum. Brother's Keeper A.C. Turek
November 26, 2025 at 12:28 PM
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professoremily.bsky.social
#WIPSnips #amwriting #writingcommunity #writers #writesky

Fun fact: in the original Wizard of Oz, the Emerald City wasn't actually emerald. The Wizard just made everyone wear green spectacles so it looked like it 😎

From #Tenement, my dystopian mystery about people living in an infinite building.
Some of the comments, however, had been written by my mother. My heart did a little dance the first time I recognized her loose, looping cursive. I’d had no idea that I would find her own words here in these pages. It was almost like being able to hear her voice again after all these years. Her comments were different from the ones left by the Librarians. She was always trying to draw the story back to our world—looking for a meaning beyond simple definitions. “The people are unable to see their true reality. Is it the same for us?” She had tried to tell me years ago. We were all wearing green spectacles. We were all looking through lenses that limited our view, blocked out all other colors, all other possibilities. There could be different ways. There could be other worlds. Had my mother finally made it to her own Oz? Why hadn’t she taken me with her?
November 26, 2025 at 1:51 PM
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smoking-gnu.bsky.social
G'morning #WIPSnips! TLC is juuuuust on the cusp of doing their first job! However, some slight complications have cropped up.
#WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts
“Very well. One final step needs to be taken,” Rondu declares. “The registration?” Driona asks. “Indeed. After that is finished, we will have to wait for the observers to arrive. This will take no more time than our readying the supplies will in any case, so the delay will not be noticeable.” “Will they interfere in any way if they feel the need?” I ask. “No. Impeding an in-process employment is not part of their purview. But it might well depend on who is chosen… or who volunteers,” Rondu explains. “Yeah, you mentioned her,” I say, recalling that Voliannas might have a non-zero chance of showing up here.
November 26, 2025 at 9:12 AM
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woodenvelt.bsky.social
impede = block

From book 2 of my romantasy wip about a priest of the dead and a thief with a heart of gold.

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingPrompts #WritingCommunity #Wrencer
“Good morning to you, erm…” The priest hesitated in mid bow, searching for the proper term of address. “Sacerem,” Wren whispered on his left. “Sacerem Letitia,” Spencer finished, straightening to meet the shade’s fiery gaze. She inclined her head ever so slightly at the honorific. A soft grating sound rumbled behind them as the door leading outside opened. The Fain priests turned and walked in their stiff, jerking gait towards the door. They didn’t look back or slow down. Clearly they assumed their guests would follow. “Not much of a greeting,” Bruce muttered behind the Fains’ backs, slightly offended. “Well, we barely understand anything they say. Maybe they didn’t think a conversation was worth the effort,” Spencer offered in an attempt to be fair to their hosts. The quartet shuffled out onto the landing and were greeted by a wall of warm, moist air and the bright glare of unfiltered sunshine. Spencer winced and threw up an arm to block the offending light. The memory of his dream, strolling through the night time streets of Urbe Mortuos where people conducted their business at a more reasonable hour, called alluringly to the priest. “Here,” Wren’s voice prompted Spencer to lower his arm and squint in her general direction. She was holding out his hat. “Thank you,” he took the offered headgear and tugged it down over his crown to cover the foolish grin that smeared itself across his face.
November 26, 2025 at 1:03 PM