- Invitation Status
- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Slow As Molasses
- Writing Levels
- Intermediate
- Adept
- Advanced
- Prestige
- Douche
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Female
- Primarily Prefer Female
- Genres
- Fantasy, Magical, Romance, Dystopian, Religious, Post-Apocalyptic, Zombies (but the plot has to consist of more than just mindlessly murdering the undead), Steampunk
She was taken aback when he began to weep on her. "Killed? Who was killed? Oh, never mind, I know. It's okay." Keelie awkwardly patted his back, unsure of what to do. We're supposed to be doing something. Oi! The meeting! We're supposed to be there! Right? Right. That's a pretty chalice. I think it's mine. No, that's not right. Oh, but I can make it mine! Keelie idly continued to pat the demon crying on her as she crafted an identical goblet right next to his.
Keelie suddenly realized that he was on her shoulder. What's this, then? Confused, she peeled herself away from Greed. "Don't cry." She said, still struggling to remember the reason. "There's a meeting." She moved herself to his wine and smiled picking up the glass. "This one's mine," she said, leaving the illusion behind, and motioning to Greed to follow her. "We won't know what's going on, if we can't get back. There's a meeting, did you know?"
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