- Posting Speed
- Multiple posts per day
- Online Availability
- Between 7 a.m. and noon EST
- Writing Levels
- Advanced
- Prestige
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- No Preferences
- Genres
- Modern, Grit, Fantasy, Romance
The woman's question evoked from young Juliant yet another unsettling, uncomfortable smile and an aversion of eyes. He held nothing against the girl, for his reactions were pure; it was not an overwhelming innocence that was responsible for his shyness, but instead a general lack of worldly experience; experience of all kind. There had been no girlfriends back home; had been no romps, no parties; all celebrations attended were usually in recognition of the Solstices, and various other holidays. They were held in ceremony, not for fun, thus his experience with the intoxicated public was meek, as alcohol was passed out boredly amongst the comers-and-goers in reverence of the holiday at hand.
But Julian had grown tired of reverie. His village had already become a memory; was already a place he couldn't even quite prove existed as it appeared in his mind quite vacant and in a thick malaise of smoke and steam and snow and ash. Julian lifted his shoulders. "I have virtually no experience with outsiders, I suppose," he said meekly. The boy's hazel eyes rose. "And I do not think I'll ever meet one, Caligo, because I am the ultimate outsider; I will be one forevermore wherever I may go. I suppose the penalty for living a life in pious solitude, for forsaking the world-greater for my selfish little magics and my petty, worthless little town will be as such: I will be welcome nowhere. So in that regard," spoken through lips that had shaped a considerably licentious smile, "we are the same now; outsider to all, but at home where ever we may be, for we have none. To be honest, I am starting to like the idea more and more."
But Julian had grown tired of reverie. His village had already become a memory; was already a place he couldn't even quite prove existed as it appeared in his mind quite vacant and in a thick malaise of smoke and steam and snow and ash. Julian lifted his shoulders. "I have virtually no experience with outsiders, I suppose," he said meekly. The boy's hazel eyes rose. "And I do not think I'll ever meet one, Caligo, because I am the ultimate outsider; I will be one forevermore wherever I may go. I suppose the penalty for living a life in pious solitude, for forsaking the world-greater for my selfish little magics and my petty, worthless little town will be as such: I will be welcome nowhere. So in that regard," spoken through lips that had shaped a considerably licentious smile, "we are the same now; outsider to all, but at home where ever we may be, for we have none. To be honest, I am starting to like the idea more and more."