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BARKIN FOAMING ST THE MOYTH - Blog Posts

11 months ago

OH MY GOD 😀

Trod crumbs pls? If you can?

bits and pieces from my rough drafts, taken out of order, from different chapter drafts (some of these I may or may not use or may be changed in the finished chapters)

“Festering thing. You have no intelligence, no style. Your will to reverse death doomed us all when for us you do not understand to prevent it!” Kallamar’s hiss is high pitched and half-threatening, half-panicked. “I could fix your problem, brother. Surgery is not quite a ritual but I can invent my own, an organ transplant of sort. A transplant of power. I could help you. I could return it to you from that wretched Lamb-”

“Kallamar.” Narinder cuts him off.
Narinder freezes when something loops around his neck. The loyalty necklace dangles as the Lamb steps back and hums, bringing one hand up to their chin. “Hmm. Feel any different?”

The cat’s nose wrinkles. Narinder speaks flatly. “Annoyed.”

“I figured that would be the result.” The Lamb’s eyebrows furrow together. “So the necklace doesn’t have magical properties, then the Mystic Seller was just being…unhelpful.”
Lambert stands still. Black eyes stare unmoving into the sand. The lines in their face losen at the realization, and he sees uncertainty in their shoulders. Fear for their flock. “Did you know?”

“No.” He answers. It sounds genuine. His brow is drawn together and his tail is hung low. “Death is supposed to be absolute. It should have stopped their influence.”

“I thought you said death was broken.”
An arm wraps around their midsection before the fall, and black fur brushes against them as they’re pulled backwards into him.

“You are being summoned, Lamb. You will not keep me waiting any longer.” Sharp teeth in the corner of their eye, the white eyed cat speaks calmly. “Rise for resurrection.”

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