I’m not usually one for writing a story in sections, but that story idea I shared a glimpse of only wants to express itself in chunks.
This can be useful when oneword gives me a word that fits so neatly into that idea:
The loss shook her to her core. Living inside the castle was a surreal existence. She knew that. It’s what drove her to sneak out to the tavern every night. She wanted to listen to what life in the world was like.
Nothing anyone said could have prepared her for this. Sure, travelers and soldiers talked about death. Losing companions, comrades, friends.
But this was her little sister. The girl who had played with her and studied by her side. The girl who had tiptoed into her room night after night for chats.
Now she was gone, and Nissa would never hear Malia’s bright laughter ever again. It tore her apart.
It feels a bit redundant there at the end, but it fits onto a scene I wrote months ago.
