Here you can read The Woven, and as the story progresses you can ask the inhabitants of Weave questions.
Since I’m still currently working on the next chapter, I thought I’d just post a little something up.
Oh gosh more followers!
Some of you I know, and some of you I don’t, but I love you all the same!
I’ll be updating soon, and would love feedback and whatever you have read.
*3*
Chapter 11: Murmurs of Discontent
“You wanted to see me, sir?”
“Yes, Miss Utsukushi,” a thin hand motioned towards the plush couch, a smile decorating Izaiha’s thin and handsome face. “Please, sit.”
Chapter 10: The Mage
Anthony’s eyes popped open.
He was on his feet in an instant, yanking his blade from the sheath and brandishing it at the noise that had startled him. His eyes hurt slightly, his hands felt sweaty in his gloves,
the bird merely cocked its head, chirping softly.
Chapter 9: The Proving
“So, what? It’s a giant owl…bat…thing?”
“Looks like it.” Jane nuzzled her face into the soft plumage, Tre-Oir glancing warily up at the Sacre as it clucked and chirped gently, staring directly at Rush.
“The wound on its wing keeps it from flying, at least for now…” The guide gripped silver feathers gently, flexing the bloodied joint carefully. Rush still hadn’t approached it, “If it followed us within the Bone Canyons without getting lost, it was definitely tracking you, Captain Rush.”
Chapter 8: The Blade of the Bastard
Anthony was fairly certain he hadn’t run so fast since he was alive.
Chapter 7: Smiling Giants
The hands were everywhere… at least they felt like hands. They ran along her body, groping, pushing, pinching and pulling, their grip bruising and painful.
Jane didn’t feel like she was drowning, but at the same time she panicked at the fact that she couldn’t breathe with the chill in her body,
Jane.
Jane’s body tensed at the voice, the hands and fingers suddenly pushing against her bottom, shoving her forwards,
Jane!
Chapter 6: The Commandant
The wind was cold, tousling his dark hair as he stood silently at the head of the caravan.
“We’re almost home.” Charon’s voice prompted a turning of his head, Anthony’s expression a strange vacant stare.
Charon hadn’t stood from the bench, his back bent and shoulders slumped, his gray hair falling into his face. They’d passed Cerberus without a word, the gate splitting open smoothly before the train had time to stop, allowing them quick passage towards Weave.
“Oh.”
“It’s been two days, Anthony, go home and rest.”
Chapter 5: Acheron
Jane glanced carefully into the cell, squinting at the small man sitting within it. He was focused on a task in front of him, the walls of the four by four foot cell covered in scrawling sketches of birds, trees, the sun, plants and animals, planets on the ceiling.
She was impressed at the skill of the work, but was more focused on just who it was sitting in the Negative String cell block. Her eyes gave an involuntary twitch, more of a shudder of disgust and hatred than anything else. It wasn’t nerves, and it wasn’t fear, Jane felt a deep and dark loathing begin to build in her gut, and she let out a surprised snort,
“Wow.”
Chapter 4: Know Your Place
The walk home was longer than usual for Adrien. The whole place was kind of like an Escher painting, all stairs and inclines, like a colossal black labyrinth, and the place had a strange glow because of all those weird blue lanterns. Adrien felt at his hip for his pistol even though he didn’t need it, he felt naked without it when he was alone, slightly paranoid. It was a habit he’d loved to have broken some time ago, but he had never gotten the chance, and as he climbed the next hill he felt the burning pain in his knees at the effort.
Chapter 3: My Friend Vivy
Jane had thought the term ‘String’ was a figurative at first, something symbolic that was severed between your soul and body. She hadn’t thought it was so literal, as she followed Charon and Rush up the walkway, the only light above them was a pulsing white glow was thousands upon thousands and little fragile threads hanging from the ceiling. They came from every which way, swaying gently back and forth in an unfelt breeze, as they traveled down the hall they joined into one bundle, disappearing far ahead into a small hole in the ceiling,
“Pretty.” Rush had said, he was hypnotized by the sight as well, though when he nearly tripped and fell on his face he had forced himself to look away. He adjusted his tie, tightening it and smoothing his pants in anticipation of reaching the antechamber.
“Are those souls? Living souls?” Jane reached upwards, gently touching a strand with he forefinger, the tip of said finger tingled gently as she withdrew her hand. “This is so beautiful.”
“Oh?” Charon’s grin had not disappeared, his hand reached forwards towards the great door at the end of the hall, his gloved hands pressing into it gently, “That’s nothing.”
Chapter 2: Choo Choo
The trip made little sense to Jane, no sooner had she nodded in assent did they disappear from the street. Like a great whooshing of air, and a darkening over her eyes like someone had placed their hand over her face. Jane felt the ground leave her feet, but there was no internal response from her to brace her fall, no urgency to cease her descent as a thick wind blew up from the darkness below, seemingly leading into nothing, she hurriedly tried to tuck her skirt down as it fluttered upwards. She felt small touches on her body, like someone gently grazed her legs, thighs, face, arms, and stomach with light touches, and she recoiled as her hair fluttered in the wind. She couldn’t spot Charon anywhere, until she felt a hand on her shoulder,
“Here we are.”
Chapter 1: Pistachio
There he was again.
It was an odd mix of curiosity and surprise that she saw him standing in the snow, licking at an ice cream cone, he towered over the gaggles of children leaving the school across the street. Jane noticed that he’d begun to nibble at the waffle cone happily, having done away with the upper tier of green ice cream, not caring that it was dripping a little on his charcoal leather gloves. His large eyes took in the falling snow ignoring, and being ignored by, the people walking past him, and he seemed so content to be unnoticed. Snow was piling up on his shoulders, and he only looked down once every twenty minutes or so to check his watch.
