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Archive for the tag “martellus von blitzengaard”

Uncalled For Actions (6/?)

Days 36 – 42 of the experiment.

gg_uncalledforactions

[PARTS 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 ]


Her heart thrummed in her head as she tore through the castle using every secret passage she knew.

It drowned out all other sounds including her labored breathing and her feet slamming against the polished stone floor which also meant she didn’t hear Martellus gaining on her until it was too late. His arm reached around her middle, lifting her right off the floor as she kicked and flailed.

“You little brat,” he hissed in her ear, breath hot and stale from running. “Give me the bottle, Violetta, and we’ll pretend none of this happened.

“Why? What are you going to use it for?”

Martellus laughed. “Why would I tell you that? So you can go tattle to Tarvek. They’re so cute at this age.” He tweaked her nose just as the other two idiots trotted up, breathing hard from their snail’s pace jog.

“Get rid of her, Tweedle,” Orrik said, “she knows too much already.”

Violetta struggled harder, twisting every direction, but Martellus’ grip iron, and the more she fought, the tighter he squeezed her until she couldn’t catch her breath.

“I’m not going to have to do that, now am I, Vi? You’re going to be a good girl and hand over the bottle and not tell anyone about this and then we’re all going to go on our merry way, right?”

She glared over her shoulder at him but knew her options were limited so she calmed her struggles until he relaxed his grip some.

“Good girl, I knew-”

Then she bit his hand until she tasted blood. Martellus screamed, dropping Violetta who landed in a full run, tossing a smoke bomb behind her for good measure. Read more…

Uncalled For Actions (5/?)

Days 29 – 35 of the experiment.

gg_uncalledforactions

[PARTS 1 | 2 | 3 | 4]


About half a dozen emotions flitted across Tweedle’s face at that news before he settled back to his barely contained rage.

Gil refused to back down for the obvious intimidation tactic he knew well from his childhood. He brought himself up to his full height which was still nearly a head shorter than Tweedle, chin held high and a practiced, indifferent expression plastered on his face.

Finally, Tweedle stepped out of Gil’s personal space and dusted the front of Gil’s jacket like he was straightening out the wrinkles Gil had already fixed. “The Baron, you say? I heard a rumor about you.”

Gil cocked one eyebrow under his fringe of bangs and crossed his arms over his chest. “Which one?”

“That you’re the orphaned son of homicidal Sparks that went on a rampage, and the only reason you’re an apprentice is the Baron feels sorry for you.”

Gil wanted to laugh–as if his father would give such an important job to someone out of pity. Instead, he shrugged as if the words didn’t bring back loathsome memories. “Close enough.”

As expected from habitual bullies, Tweedle looked even more annoyed that he didn’t get a rise out of Gil, but he recovered quickly. He took two menacing steps towards Gil and shoved a finger in his face. “Baron or no, I don’t care who you are, if I catch you around my sister again-”

Seffie interrupted him with a swat on the back of his head. “Martellus, no. Bad brother.” Read more…

Uncalled For Actions (4/?)

Days 22 – 28 of the experiment.

gg_uncalledforactions

[PARTS 1 | 2 | 3]


He checked to make sure no one was watching then carefully added some speech bubbles around the drawing before casually slipping the paper back to her.

She snorted softly, scribbled something else then passed the note back, lower lip caught between her teeth to keep from smiling.

This went on of most off the Baron’s impassioned, but ultimately, boring address.

At some point, Anevka gave up any pretenses of paying attention and slid into the Baron’s seat to be next to Gil. “Might you have some ink I could borrow,” she said, just loud enough for her father to hear.

Gil doubted the Prince believed the excuse by the low huff he gave before returning his attention to the proceedings. Nevertheless, Gil pushed the inkwell between them as they both pretended to take notes, their drawings becoming more and more absurd as time and boredom wore on.

The Baron eventually came to his final remarks, necessitating Anevka return to her original seat, but she continued to make faces at him behind his father’s back, much to Gil’s delight–maybe if Anevka stuck around the summit, things wouldn’t be as bad as he’d worried.

That thought soured the mood because he knew he’d have to face Tarvek eventually–there was no getting around it.

After what seemed like an eternity where his emotions bounced from elated to anguished, the morning’s meetings came to a close and the apprentices were dismissed to an adjoining room for lunch.

Gil was out of his seat before his father could even gather a lecture, strolling over to Anevka with a shy grin.

“I’m Gil,” he said, holding out his hand like they hadn’t spent the last four hours goofing off together. “Your Highness,” he added respectfully if a little late. Read more…

Uncalled for Actions (3/?)

Days 15-21 of the sentences experiment. Still going strong.

gg_uncalledforactions

[PART: 1 | 2]


Ten-year-old Violetta Mondarev prowled around the edges of the central courtyard of Sturmhalten Castle, keeping to the shadows, watching the parade of dignitaries from all over the Empire, and catching snippets of conversation as Tarvek had ordered. She bit back a curse she’d heard some of the older Smoke Knights using when talking about the self-serving, conceited Madboys they worked for and what they thought of their orders.

She shook her head–Tarvek wasn’t really like that, she reminded herself. Sure, they disagreed and he reprimanded her when she mouthed off, but of all their family, only he ever showed an ounce of respect towards her, and that was what ensured her loyalty above the solemn oaths she was forced to take–he was a prat, but he was a reasonable prat.

Violetta scurried up a tree in the corner and hid among its branches to get a better view. Spring had barely arrived, and although buds had begun to sprout, a bitter wind whipped down from the mountains, fluttering her bangs into her eyes. She could easily tell those raised in the lower elevations–they were the ones bundled in furs and multiple wool overcoats, hats with ear-flaps and lined, leather gloves. They were soft compared to the natives of Balan’s Gap and the surrounding mountains, two of which suddenly appeared at the open window next to her perch. Read more…

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