Coffee Dragons (Andi)
Jul 30, 2011 15:02:17 GMT -5
Post by Andi Thalis on Jul 30, 2011 15:02:17 GMT -5
Andi didn’t look up for a bit, content to hit herself mentally for making Matt uncomfortable in her presence. Really, Thalis, you can do better than that. Did you seriously have to take his book and make him look like he wanted to run away from you? As it so happened, she looked up just as Matt said it was okay and gestured to his notebook. She looked down, still silent, and let her eyes caress his handwriting, the story laid before her piquing her interest.
Reading every word, her lips transformed from a sullen line into a small smile, and even bigger as she continued reading. The witch, a fiery and passionate brunette who loved causing trouble, had taken the knight’s sword and held it for ransom, demanding that he go into the forest and catch her a mighty stag for her table. The knight had refused and they had bickered until the witch had seen her ways and given the sword back. In return, the knight had gone out and brought her back a mighty stag, and they had become friends.
The note at the end of the story made her blush a bit, twin clouds of peach on her golden skin. She looked up at him, grabbing his pencil and scribbling something before pushing it back towards him.
I am truly sorry, though; I only wanted to be your friend, so I thought that it would be fun to take your book. I don’t doubt that your sister would have done such a thing, but I’m not your sister, and strangers shouldn’t do that. I would love to write you letters or notes or whatever; truth is, on the inside, I read and cherish stories like the ones you wrote, of damsels in distress and dragons and witches and knights. Thank you for the story; I really, really liked it, and it cheered me right up.
Reading every word, her lips transformed from a sullen line into a small smile, and even bigger as she continued reading. The witch, a fiery and passionate brunette who loved causing trouble, had taken the knight’s sword and held it for ransom, demanding that he go into the forest and catch her a mighty stag for her table. The knight had refused and they had bickered until the witch had seen her ways and given the sword back. In return, the knight had gone out and brought her back a mighty stag, and they had become friends.
The note at the end of the story made her blush a bit, twin clouds of peach on her golden skin. She looked up at him, grabbing his pencil and scribbling something before pushing it back towards him.
I am truly sorry, though; I only wanted to be your friend, so I thought that it would be fun to take your book. I don’t doubt that your sister would have done such a thing, but I’m not your sister, and strangers shouldn’t do that. I would love to write you letters or notes or whatever; truth is, on the inside, I read and cherish stories like the ones you wrote, of damsels in distress and dragons and witches and knights. Thank you for the story; I really, really liked it, and it cheered me right up.