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A drabble. Prompt courtesy of 100wordstories.com.

“How much do you charge?”

            “It’s on the house.” I threw the fortune-teller a cynical glance. “I love pessimists,” she explained.

            “Right. What’s in my future?” She peeked at the foggy glass ball that sat between us.

            “A great betrayal nears. The man you love will fall for your best friend. Your math teacher hates you. Oh, and, you’re going to fail that test.”

            “What? Are you serious?”

            “Completely.”

            “Some psychic you are. I want my money back.”

            “Honey, we both know that my job is to tell you what you want to hear. You wouldn’t have believed anything else.”

Okay! The drabble is for yesterday, and the doodle today. Like I said, mon-weds=hell |D

—Drabble; Mine and Jillian’s World of Warcraft Blood Elves—
“I won’t abide seeing my Acolytes as… as… Dancing fools!”
“My deepest apologies sir.” Quel’Fasa bowed deeply. “We shall restrain ourselves in the future.” He nudged his companion, eliciting a jerky bow. “I apologize as well,” Delestus hollowly echoed.
Olyphius frowned. “I’ll be keeping my eye on you two.”
After a stiff, awkward moment, Delestus led Quel’Fasa away to the Wayfarer’s Rest. There, away from all onlookers, they lounged together on a plush couch.
“Can you believe that pathetic fool?” Quel’Fasa drawled as he accepted bloodthistle from Delestus. “He believes himself so noble, and overlord! The very idea is laughable!”
“Patience, my good friend,” hissed Delestus, eyes half-lidded with the drug. “You know as well as I, this is merely a stepping stone.” He ran a single clawed hand through Quel’Fasa’s golden hair. “We will crush him when the time comes.”
Quel’Fasa leaned against his companion, closing his eyes. “Yes. Let him wade in his ignorance for now. He will learn the true destiny of the Quel’Dorei soon enough.”
—

—Doodle; Inspired by designer sunglasses worn by sorostitutes**—

** I know not all sorority girls are sorostitutes, and not all people that wear that type of sunglasses are that kind of person, but I immediately get a foul impression from a stranger that wears them so proudly. I hate not being able to see someone’s eyes, at least a little bit behind the glasses.

A few of us decided to do a drabble where we would start with the word “winter” and end in the word “wren”. So you just have 98 words to fill in (in the middle). Feel free to join in if you wish.

“Winter is so harsh on them. Fragile little things…”

He didn’t look at me, just spoke into the ether. His words drifted away with his breath. Russet-coloured specks littered the courtyard, silhouetted against the snow, forraging for spiders, darting to and fro.

“So many have died this year. I could help, could take them in, care for them. Don’t they deserve that?”

His coat hung over his body, distorting his features. Hands clasped tightly together, he squirmed awkwardly. A shrill cry escaped, freezing the courtyard. Seconds later, he howled and the bird fled upwards, calling out to the other wren.

And Here is Mike’s

100 words, beginning with ‘winter’ and ending with ‘wren’.

Winter fell, as Wendel predicted, on the day the harvest began. The pond was slick with ice, the paths glistened, and the children ran through the fields leaving footprints that soon filled with snow and disappeared.

The mayor called an emergency meeting that morning, up in the hall that his grandfather had built. Amongst the cedars for which the town was named. A wren accompanied from the rafters as they discussed Preventative Measures, and how they should Safeguard Their Futures.

And as the sun rose and the ships departed, all that remained was the hall, the trees, and a wren.

Jey’s is here