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This I Promise You: Chapter3"No peeking!"
"Claaaaay…I can't see."
"…that's the point, sweetheart."
Kat huffed, Clay chuckled. He had his hands placed firmly -- but gently -- over her eyes, so she couldn't see anything but his palms -- which she didn't necessarily mind. Clay had nice hands. But she was eager to see what he had in store for her. She could see the back of his hands any ole day. "When can I look?"
"Just wait a second, miss impatient!" Clay laughed, leading her … somewhere. She had no idea where she was going, and had to trust her husband to lead her.
"I'm not impatient. I'm just curious." she retorted.
She could hear him snicker. And was about to say something about it, when he stopped. "Okay. You ready, darling?" he asked.
"I've BEEN ready."
"Are you reeeeeeally ready?"
Laughing, he gently pulled his hands away from his wife's eyes. "Alright darling. Open your eyes."
A soft smile graced her lips as she did as he told her, but when her eyes fluttered open, she blinked,
This I Promise You: Chapter2"Clay…Clay, wake up."
Opening one eye slightly, Clay glanced at the clock on his nightstand, then groaned, annoyed. "Missy…it's three o'clock in the morning…" he muttered, not bothering to turn to look at her. Was she nuts? Waking him up at three in the morning…not a fantastic idea.
Looking quite indignant indeed at being ignored, Kat turned on the lights. Clay squeaked and dove under the covers to escape being blinded. "Kat!"
"Clay!" she countered, picking up her shoes and sitting on the side of the bed to put them on.
Eventually, he peeked out from under the covers, looking rather grumpy, disheveled, and half asleep. When he noticed that she was fully dressed and putting on her shoes, he became alert. "What are you doing? It's three in the morning!"
"Believe me, I'm quite aware of what time it is." she said, pulling her hair up into a high ponytail, not wanting to waste the time curling or straightening it.
Again, he asked, "What are you doing?"
Standing up, she headed to her dresser
Her CatalystAs she walks through the maelstrom, the words trace upon the tips of her fingers and press into the stone. Every brick, every crack in the concrete, every crossed and angular stroke in reds and blacks and oranges. The drips of the gasoline pool around the base of her boots, slosh as she steps over the burst pipes and the rubble.
So much rubble. So little outcry. The silence of the city grates on her eardrums and the mantras she'd been forced to memorize. The Seers demanded they observe thirteen years of recitation before they attempt to weave their first World together.
But who other than the Seers can claim the incantations that knot the skeins they twist and pull on like reins hold fast? When have any of the Sisters recorded the visions they traced upon space-time and recited them, left them open for critique and discussion and debate?
Which is why she walks through the chalky soot of the smashed city around her. This all
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More