Share your parts of your story here!

@alice O'Mally It's a piece i've been working on for Fullmetal Alchemist, actually! (now, if only I could finish it…)

OH MY GOD I CALLED IT YES I THOUGHT IT WAS EDWARD!! ahem sorry about that. I just didn't want to go all "are you writing about my child?!" and then have it turn out it was someone else entirely. Because that would be a tad mortifying. Just a tad.

@FantaPop thank you! When I finish the new ending (for some reason I write the beginning, the ending and then the middle??) I'll try post it x

also that little scene was really good! i wish there was more

@alice O'Mally I don't think I could ever use Elric for one of my own characters, it's far too associated with Ed and Al for me lmao

@imjustshy that's usually my writing process as well, though I tend to skip around a lot between the three. (There is more, I'm just in the process of transferring it into a word doc instead of my work notebook ^^; )

@FantaPop I actually thought it could be the name of a character from some other show though my immediate response was to want to ask "Is this an FMA or FMAB fanfic?" but then if it turned out that no, this was a fanfic for detective-slash-spy-dudes-save-the-city-also-it's-not-an-anime then that would be a bit embarrassing.

Also I tend to find that people think less of me and take me less seriously because I watch anime, like that somehow lowers the quality of my thoughts and creativity. So I didn't really want to mention it unless I knew for sure. But hey! My brethren!

I closed the door, and went back my suitcase and pulled out my laptop and put it on the table where Asha and I just had breakfast. I opened the laptop lid and turned it back on.

As I waited for that I decided, or my body decided, that it was time for more coffee. I walked back to the cart and picked up the coffee pot and poured it into my coffee cup it used earlier. As I filled it to the rim, my phone started to ring. I put the coffee pot down and picked my phone up from the table stand, I saw who it was and rolled my eyes. Veronica. I declined the called and sent her a text.

To Vee: Stop calling me, I'm serious this time. Do not call text or contact me in anyway. LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE!!!!

And then I deleted the phone number,after I locked my phone my laptop chimed. I walked back to my laptop and saw a face time notification from Bailey. I accepted the call and smiled seeing my sisters and brother on the other side.

"When are you coming back home?" Bailey asked me quickly.

"I'll be home tonight I promise babe." I told her, she looked content with my answer and waved goodbye leaving her phone with the twins. Why did I give her that she seven?

They sat there and stared at me. "What?" I asked them. "Is that a sign that there's a gun to your head?"

"Jeremiah had a girl over last night." Fi smirked and her boy version look alike rolled his eyes.

"First off all we were studying, in the living room with Bailey watching, I don't know the fucking wiggles. It was PG, hell G." Jeremiah explained to me. "It was all math, math, math with her."

"As in Alexa your tutor, who kindly offered to tutor you for free?" I asked fascinatedly. “First off all Fi, your brother doesn’t have a shot with Alexa Goldman, she’s a volleyball player with straight A’s. And he plays guitar in his room and makes C’s.”

Fiona laughed and shook her head. "How was your first day of school?" I asked them.

"It was eh, I guess?" Fiona answered looking down at her phone. "Oh I got a job." She shouted excitedly with smile on her face.

"Really? When did you apply?" I asked curiously.

"A few months ago for the summer but the were all book on employees. One just quit so the manager said thay I could work weekends, so it wouldn't interfere with my school work." She explained to happily. "Now I don't have to keep asking you for money, I'll have my own soon and then I can move out and live with daddy."

"Yeah, Fi. You do that." I smiled for encouragement. I was proud thay she went out there and got a job, also one that could work around her school schedule. My eyes darted to Jeremiah to see him looking at I'm assuming the tv. "And you Jeremiah?"

"Nope, I'm still taking your money. I like it here." He answer with a devilish smirk. I looked at the time and it was getting close to 10:00.

"Look, I have a meeting to get to and then I'll be on my way home possibly before dinner alright." I told them as I waved goodbye. They said bye and I exited the face time app.

I opened my email and saw a new message from Clementine my lawyer. I opened the message and saw that it was telling me about a new assistant.

So apparently my current assistant just had a baby out if nowhere and wants to stay home with the kid. Well one congrats Skylar and Dylan, and two fuck you for leaving me with a new assistant.

Skylar knew everything before I asked for it. Knew the way I liked my coffee, how to properly clean the community fridge without being asked. That wasn't even a part of his job description yet he did it anyway, he also picked Bailey and the twins up from school if I couldn't. You know all two of the times I asked.

All the email said was; forgot her name but she is pretty. She is eighteen and her last name is Peters. College graduate with a bachelors and apparently is a super genius. Graduated high school when she was fourteen and moved on to college.

And you now have a nameless Assistant who is better than you. ;P

Ps how was your date??

And I replied: Shut Up.

@alice oh no! Honestly, you really don't need to care overly much about what people think about anime nowadays, especially if you're watching something and creating content for it that you enjoy!

@itskayhere this looks like a promising start! I'm a little confused over some of the sentences, like "Why did I give her that she seven?" and the comma between picking up the phone and seeing who it was would probably be better read with a period there instead. I think you might also benefit from varying your sentence structure a little bit - it gets quite tedious to read a paragraph of sentences all starting with I! But I do enjoy where this is going and would love to know more about Bailey and what Veronica did warrant such an extreme action!

@FantaPop thank you! All the people on here are so nice! :)

That was a refreshing review thank you @FantaPop

(I don't know whether to keep this or not because I'm cleaning out my documents)

The breath left my lungs with an 'oof' as my ass collided with wet pavement that had previously been beneath my feet, lips turning down in a grimace as water soaked through my skirt and pattered onto my head. The steady torrents of rain did nothing to stop me from glaring at the person who had knocked me over as I prepared to give them a verbal beating; only to pause when I realised there were tears on the person's face.

"Woah, are you okay?" I asked, eyes scanning the persons body for any form of injury, taking note of the black binder that was visible beneath the persons, completely soaked, white shirt. The boy sniffled as he mumbled a string of apologies but I silenced him with a look and held out my hand.

When he just looked at me in dismay, I rolled my eyes and wiggled my fingers, watching as he moved forward with a start. As his hand wrapped around mine I gripped onto it tightly, grunting as he hauled me to my feet.

Up close, I could see that his eyes were red rimmed and puffy, his lips turned down in a frown. He was also wearing a shit-tonne of eyeliner that was slowly dripping down his cheeks.

“Hey, you didn’t answer me.” I grumbled, crossing my arms over my chest as the rain grew heavier. To be honest, I liked the feeling of the rain-drops hitting my skin and the smell of damp-everything, so I was perfectly fine making conversation in the middle of the street but, I could tell the boy was shivering and he looked sad enough without all the water so, without actually waiting for his reply, I gently grabbed his upper arm and dragged him up the street.
“Wait, what are yo-” he protested, struggling lightly against my grasp.

“Shh.” I ordered, enjoying the sound of our footsteps being lost amongst the rain. However, I was not enjoying the way my clothes clung to my body so I quickened my pace until we reached the cafe I had previously been on my way to until I was knocked on my ass.

Dragging the poor boy inside, I let the door close with a jingle and was glad to see that it was empty, as usual. “What do you want?” I demanded, sliding my debit card out of the waistband of my skirt (where I kept it secure with a bobby pin) as we made our way up to the counter. I flashed the girl at the counter a smile as the boy blinked, his doe eyes filled with surprise as he parted his lips to reply.

“Uhm, what?”

“That isn’t exactly an answer so,” I turned to the cashier. “I’ll just get two muffins and two black coffees please.”

As I answered I felt someone grab my arm and spin me around, a weird noise escaping my throat. “What are you doing? I don’t even know you!” The boy exclaimed, looking incredibly distressed with his short-ish hair sticking to his face and his clothes clinging to his body. I imagined I looked the same, with my long hair plastered to my neck and shoulders.

“I’m buying coffee and muffins for this sopping boy I met on the street earlier.” I replied, taking private joy in the way his features lit up at the word ‘boy’.

“But, I still don’t know you- and I knocked you over!” He continued, looking very confused. I waved my hands in dismissal as the cashier gave us our muffins and latte’s and gestured for him to follow me to a table at the back, but next to a big window.

“Yes you knocked me over, and yes you do not know me. But you are about to know me and you have been forgiven for the knocking over.” I said, dropping the muffins on the table as I passed him one of the cups.

Dropping down into the comfy armchair, I pulled the sugar over to me and started piling it into my coffee, adding a splash of milk after. “So, what’s your name?” I asked after taking a large gulp of the steaming beverage.

“Collee-”
“No, I meant your name not the name your mother gave you.”
“Oh… it’s Micheal.”
“Well, nice to meet you Micheal, I’m Veronica!” I greeted, sitting up in my chair so I could hold my arm out. Micheal gently grasped my hand and shook it, before he took a sip of his own drink.

“Now, Micheal. Important question.” I said, taking another sip of my latte. He hummed in response, looking at me nervously.

“Why were you crying?”

“Oh, uh… Well-” He was interrupted by the beginnings of some sort of song, which was beginning to become familiar, and I watched as he pulled out a phone from absolutely nowhere. As I was about to ask where the hell he was hiding that device, Micheal stood up and left with a hasty goodbye.

I watched him curiously, following his retreating figure with my eyes as he walked out the door and into the rain.

“What an interesting boy.” I muttered.

So I wrote a bit of a thing and i have no real idea where its going to be used but im very happy with it so I'll use it somewhere:

Just as I was about to say something witty in return, a hush swept over the crowd.
No, that’s not right, a hush didn’t sweep over the crowd, it fell over the crowd. You may think that there isn’t any difference between the two, but trust me, there is.
A sweeping silence is mundane. You hear them all the time, when someone important enters a room, when someone is making a scene, when musicians begin playing a song. The people closest to the source stop speaking first, their attention caught. Next, their neighbours notice their silence, and they too fall silent when they notice the source. This continues outwards in a wave, until the entire room is doused in the quiet. Like any wave though, sweeping silences aren’t even. They falter and crash as people push back at them, self-important nobles with ego enough for three men, rich ladies who’ve had a few too many glasses of wine, musicians paid to keep playing uninterrupted for the entire night. Sometimes the wave crashes entirely, and conversation merely dims for a few second before people decide their stories are in fact more important than whatever is happening. Sometimes, very rarely, when the person is important enough, or the scene loud enough, or the music beautiful enough, a silence will sweep over a crowd so quickly as to be mistaken for a falling silence. But it is not.
Falling silences are exceedingly rare, as the only occur when the source is so significant, so unequivocally more important than anything else that could possibly be happening in the room at the time. More important than egotistical nobles or drunk ladies or professional musicians, more than the king and his court, or the magically gifted witches. They are the result of extreme wonder, or extreme awe… or extreme dread.
And the hush that blanked the room at that moment fell. And it fell hard.

@Tarrant_Korrin that was so beautiful, oh my goodness

Oh, and also this other thing. for reference, Lilith has a tattoo of a stylised clock hand that runs up the middle of her back, with the point at her neck.

“What does it mean?” Tasia asked quietly, cautiously, as if the question might startle Lilith into flight, and she might not see her for days.
Indeed, Lilith tensed, ready to close herself off and reveal nothing at all, but the caution and softness in Tasia’s voice stopped the barriers from going all the way up, and after a moment, she relaxed again. She considered the question for a long moment before saying “Have you heard the story of the king, the clock maker and the wizard?” Confused but blindingly curious, despite herself, Tasia shook her head. Lilith took another moment to collect her thoughts before she began speaking.

Long ago, when magic was still new to the world there was a king. This king was a brilliant inventor, and he made many marvellous devices in his life. As he grew older, his strength began to fade. Every day, he wound his clock by hand, until his strength faded so far that he could not even do that. It was at this time, as the king was approaching his final rest, that he came up with his most brilliant idea yet: a clock that did not need to be wound up. Immediately, he summoned one of his wizards, and the cities only clock maker.
“Greeting, friends,” said the king to the two men. “I have had a wonderful idea, and I would very much like to see it come to fruition before I die. I would like you to make a clock that does not need to be wound.”
The wizard and the clock maker both agreed to fulfil the kings wish, and so headed off to the castles workshop. It did not take them long to come up with the design, and they began crafting the device immediately. The clock maker began shaping metal into tiny gears and levers and switches, and two small hands. The wizard began weaving a complex spell to power the device.
The two craftsmen were both so engrossed in their work, that just as the wizard was close to finishing his spell, and the clock maker had finished crafting all the pieces, they accidentally ran into one another, in the small confines of the workshop. The wizard was so startled that his spell dissipated entirely, and the clock maker dropped his clock pieces, damaging them.
“Watch where you’re going, you simpleton!” exclaimed the wizard. “Magic is very dangerous, you could have killed us both!”
Calmly, the clock maker picked up one of the bent clock hands, examining it. “This is no good, I will have to remake this,” he said to himself.
The wizard heard this however, and it only made him angrier. “Don’t be ridiculous, you can simply bend it back into shape. I, on the other hand, will have to start my spell from scratch,” he said indignantly.
“This is an unfortunate setback for us both,” said the clock maker, trying to placate the wizard. “Neither of us can afford to make a mistake, so we must start again, and do it perfec-”
The wizard, predictably, was not placated, and interrupted the clock maker, saying, “what does it matter if you mess up? If you mess up, the clock doesn’t work. But if I mess up, I might very well blow a hole in the ceiling.”
The clock maker considers this for a moment before beginning to say, “well yes, that is true, but…”
The wizard cut him off before he can explain, saying, “if you mess up, the king has to keep winding up his clock every day. If I mess up, the king might end up with no clock at all. And no castle either, for it will have been blown sky high.”
“Yes, I agree, but…” the clock maker tried again, but the wizard cut him off once more.
“If you mess up, you have to fix a piece of metal. If I mess up, I have to fix my entire body.”
The clock maker waited this time, giving the wizard several moments to think of any other suitably horrendous scenarios, before finally explaining, “The king is old, and he will soon die. I am the only clock maker in this city, and the next closest clock maker is many days away. The king will die before he arrives. If you mess up, the king will hire another wizard, as there are many in the city. If I mess up, then this wonderful invention will never be made, and people will continue wasting time, winding their clocks manually, for many years to come. If I do not make every single piece perfectly, then the world will be a shade less wondrous, less beautiful, and less right.”

Both girls were silent for a long moment, Taisa burning with curiosity and Lilith filled with trepidation. Finally, Lilith spoke. “The clock hand, it’s a reminder. If I slouch or slump, the clock hand bends with my back, so it’s no longer straight. It’s a reminder that if I’m not here, in this world, if I’m not standing tall and strong and proud, then this world will be just a shade less wondrous, less beautiful, and less right.”

@imjust shy what an interesting scene, I'm wondering what it's a bigger part of, and why was michael crying? (The world may never know.) Either way, I really enjoy how you write!

@Tarrant_Korrin wow. Just, wow. I love the exposition in the first one, the way it builds up to the last couple sentences and just drops "And it fell hard." on you. The second one, though. The second one is definitely my favourite and a wonderful piece of storytelling.

Here, have a quick scene that may or may not make it into the book (I'm still deciding).

The necklace glinted in the light, a delicate piece of intertwined crystal and gold. It was obviously made with magic, if the pinkish tint shimmering along the metal was anything to go by, and would be sorely missed. Damien looked proud of himself, strutting along with a stupidly wide grin on his face.

"I'm surprised you still have your hands." Quickshot said, tucking the jewellery into one of their pockets. The thief shrugged, expression dropping into something calmer before lighting back up.

"I've still got all my fingers, too." He said, wiggling said fingers in the gunslinger's face. They pushed his hand back with a roll of their eyes.

"Well, mostly." Damien added afterwards, giving the missing bit of his index a longing look before jogging to catch up with Quickshot. They picked up the pace.

"Then keep them to yourself, else you'll be missing more."

@FantaPop That looks really interesting! So does the Norse mythology one near the beginning of this thread; I would love to read more of either.

And here's my contribution:

I have now officially decided. Waiting at the airport for a long lost step-sibling is boring.

It’s not that I’ not looking forward to meeting Camryn. I mean, we’re the same age and, from what I’ve heard, she sounds pretty cool. I just don’t consider wait in a stuffy airport terminal for hours on end the best way to spend my Saturday morning, even if it was to meet an interesting, brilliant and way cooler than me sister.

We’ve been sitting in the same uncomfortable plastic seats for nearly three hours now. After Camryn’s flight was delayed, Gavin got out his iPad and hasn’t look up since. Mom’s reading and Sam, my step-father, is tapping away at his laptop, writing up reports for his boss. I’ve been switching between reading and writing out my paper for AP English.

Finally, a woman’s voice announces, “Flight 815 has now landed and passengers are disembarking.”

Gavin looks up from his screen. “That’s Camryn’s flight. Is she going to be here soon?”

@FantaPop I like it!

@bookkitty17 your story seems very interesting. What is it about?

@bookkitty17 Wow that is good! It seems very interesting!

@Cami Maith thu!!!!!!

Ciarán blinked, his eyes still adjusting to the light of the mortal world. Dazed, he felt around until he grasped the familiar shaft of his hurley, shillelagh- and something else. A small shard, pearly white, and engraved with something in faint gold letters… Iain popped up behind him, in that deathly silent way of his. Ciarán suppressed a scream, then rolled his eyes when he saw who it was. Blue eyes narrowing, Iain tilted the shard up to the light and read: "Please don't be stupid! You were really hard to fix! -Aengus" They both sank into an exasperated facepalm.

First thing I saw on my screen, so not my best stuff! Also, it's paraphrased.

Small bit of another fic, second person is really hard to write in (for me ^^; )

You must be dreaming.

The moon is bright but the passing lights are brighter, the air sharp and cutting into your lungs with every thudding step and frantic beat of your heart. You're carrying something heavy, the uneven strap of your bag causing it to slam into your hip. It feels like it'll bruise for days, if not weeks.

Mother says it stays that long to remind you of your mistakes, but Mother isn't here.

It has to be a dream, because your blond hair gets in your face too easily, and the pale hands that shake when you pay attention to them aren't your own. Not a nightmare, not yet, but it always has the potential to turn in an instant.

@FantaPop I usually don't like second person, (like I really, adamantly dislike it), but I really liked reading this bit of story you wrote. It's really well written. :)

@FantaPop you are such an amazing writer, I absolutely love reading your story parts!

(here's a piece I wrote, like, a year ago and it hasn't been edited in ages)
.
.

What is the loneliest sound in the world?

There are a lot of possible answers to this question: the creaking of an old swing set in an empty park. The groaning of a crow at sunrise. The sound of ‘goodbye’.

All are good answers, but none, I think, sound as lonely as the howl of a wolf: Smooth baritone notes that spill from the throats of those who long to be with the moon but are trapped on the ground with nothing but their broken hearts for company.

This is the sound that resonated through the halls of Saint Torains Mental Institution one dreary Saturday morning; the lonely call causing shivers to dance along the spines of the residents as they tried desperately to ignore the sadness in her song.

As the last notes faded into nothing, a soft rumble of thunder took its place, the sky preparing to unleash its wrath on the world below. A louder clash of the clouds caused windows to rattle as the howling started up again, creeping through the halls like shadows at dusk.

The screeching of un-oiled metal was what filled the quiet halls at the opposite end of the wolves prison, as a large man slammed doors open in rage; dark intentions circling in his tiny brain as his keys jangled dangerously in his fat hands.

The world seemed to hold its breath for a moment, silence filling every small space before the desolate booming of the sky shattered the peace. True to the world's intentions, thunder clapped a furious applause; almost swallowing the cry of longing that followed as her door was thrown open in a hate-filled rush.

The sky continued to rage above while the howling was sharpened into the terrified screams of a young child as the warden attempted to beat the wolf out of her.

Several agonizing minutes later, when room 366 was empty of all but the shivering form of a whimpering child, the sky began to weep - as though mourning the lost soul that was trapped within the walls of this prison.

The wolf shed her own tears as she huddled in a dusty corner of her room, predatory eyes shut tight in fear of what her future held.

@FantaPop Holy hell, I can't believe it. Someone is interested in my story. Does it counts as spoiling if it's the author that tells? Luca has known her for awhile, they were foster siblings, and is also somehow her legal guardian (I haven't figured out exactly how that's possible, yet) and she's leaving because she's gotten bored of staying in that place (wherever that place is) and is taking her son because her son is her world. I really like your writings as well, and your 2nd person is cool. I find it difficult to write that way, honestly, so bravo.

"Mommy, that persons stupid. Don't go near him. He'll infected you."
He was pointing at a middle-aged man that was trying, and failing, to pickup a teen girl while she was obviously on a date with her boyfriend. Eryn rolled her eyes, it was Emmanuel, just the guy she was looking for.

Lol, Lukas and his adorableness, warning his mother not to go near stupid people. Found this and decided to put it here. Honestly, it seems that all I have are bits and pieces scattered everywhere. Eventually, I'll probably connect them together.

Wow! Some of these are really cool! Here's mine:

“The Trinity sits in conference with one another, debating the fate of the world.”
-Prophet Lyrcus, year XXX

Asha grew up with thieves and murderers. Old man Jacobs, the horsemaster, was the one to teach her how to throw a punch. Greta taught her sleight of hand. Kessler taught her knifework. None of them asked why a girl, barely in her majority, was in a place such as this. She, in turn, did not ask what had brought them here. They were all persecuted by the Law- what use would it be to share that which should remain unsaid? Despite this, her life was some semblance of normality, kept in check by the unspoken rules of Thieves’ Keep.

Do not ask about another's past. Do not commit any crimes within the city boundaries.

This city is for those who wish to escape the Law, without leaving their home country. Hidden in the wildernesses of the Remr forest, nearly in the Lakelands, it was a perfect place to hide.

Here's mine.

He ran. He ran, his eyes puffy and red, tears running down his cheeks leaving stains. Branches slapped him as he sprinted through the dark forest. The night air was crisp and cold freezing his tear-stained cheeks. Coyotes howls echoed through the night air riding on a gentle breeze. No starlight shown and the moon was hidden from sight.

Everything had been taken from him. All his life he had lived in a shadow of pain and suffering, now that last thing he had, all that kept him to the sanity in the world was taken from him. He refused to remember, he just couldn’t, the pain would be too much. But his mind betrayed him. There it lay on the ground, blood pooling out and its eyes glassy. It withered in pain as more blood flowed out.

He had screamed in shock and tried to help it but, to no avail. He had spotted the one who did this and ran, fearing his life. He had crossed streets trying to run from his loss and ended up in this thick forest. He stopped suddenly, coming out of his sorrowful daze. Where was he? He turned around trying to spot and exit. He continued in the way he was going and spotted a faint light.

The forest opened up into a meadow and in the middle was the biggest tree he had ever seen, the long wavy branches being illuminated by the moon that was only just a sliver in the dark sky.

“Welcome.” A voice greets him. It echoes throughout the meadow sending chills down his spine.

“W-who’s there?” He stammered back, looking for the source of the mysterious voice. He backed away warily.

“Don’t be afraid, i’m not going to hurt you. I am Diami, Guardian of the Amulets. I protect them and make sure the elemental powers are evenly balanced.” She replied, her voice smooth as silk. A figure appeared from behind the tree dressed in white.

“What are you?” He asked.

“I am a mere human like you, just with powers. You are just full of questions aren’t you? I was too.” She laughed. The figure approached, the source of the voice.

“So, you have powers?” He asked, an idea sparking his mind.

“Yes.” She was now in front of him, her blonde hair down and cascading down her back and her light blue eyes reflecting the claw-like moon. Her white dress had interesting markings on it, the lower rim was dressed with flames, her right sleeve had clouds with rain and lightning while her left had boulders with a plant sprouting out of the dirt. “I would offer you my powers but, your heart is filled with hatred after a death that wasn’t purposely done.”

“How dare you!” He yelled. “I have nothing! You don’t understand this pain! You’re just like everyone else!” He clenched his fists and to his surprise his fist clenched harder on a piece of wood, he looked down and almost yelled in shock. In his hand was a bloody arrow, the tip black with blood. It had ran down his hand turning it crimson. This was the murder weapon. He had completely forgotten that he had taken it out of the body in his daze.

Her harsh words had stabbed the boy, he had been through so much, the sorrow of loss and pain, loneliness and the depressing life that he had lived. All his sorrow turned to rage, everything that had ever wronged him went towards this insult. He thrusted the sharp tip at her and she stood in shock while pain filled her senses. He took it out and stabbed her again, more blood flowing out. He stabbed her one more time under her ribs puncturing her major organs. She collapsed on the ground in a similar pool of blood.

He fell on his knees. He just killed someone. He looked down and opened his fists and looked at the bloody arrow in a daze.

A silver flash made him look up and come out of his rage. The markings on her dress disappeared and her body was slowly fading away in the same silver light. He watched as the magic faded her body away completely to nothing. A dark gray light appeared and swirled around him, cocooning him. There was a flash and the strange light dispersed and flew into the large tree. He was dressed in a dark gray suit with similar markings. Replacing the arrow was a large double bladed axe, the tips a dark crimson by design.

He would get his revenge.

Working on your story I see @luna