[A little writing thing to get a better understanding of Massani, my D&D character. Iffy is a homebrew elf (that is basically either fire or ice incarnate, very cool) ran by another player. Iffy uses she/they/he pronouns. I default to they/them!]

Iffy did not strike Massani as a Pride member at first.

    They looked like an elf, but different. More vibrant, more otherworldly. It seemed like their hair itself caught flame at the ends, and when they spoke, their words sang like lullabies in Massani’s ears. But a pretty elf was only that–she did not expect to be wrestling death-adjacent bird beasts and see Iffy’s sword spark and burn, did not expect to see them slay the mother of all the smaller death-birds. She did not expect to see such a display of power and strength. She did not expect to find evidence that perhaps others were Pride members, outside of Moravia.

    Moonlight told her there are people called leaders, a word in Anderic that seemed to imply Prides. Was Iffy a leader? Were they someone who led their own Pride, their own tribe? Massani stuck close as they fled the beasts that hunted the group, watched as Iffy slew other beasts, as they displayed power that Massani did not even have. Magic, surely. Magic Massani should dislike, should fear, should hate. Druids were acceptable, perhaps, but surely Iffy was another exception. They were godly. 

    Massani held a door open for Iffy to walk through, and the tall being reached over, rubbed her ear, and called her friend in their beautiful tongue. Massani’s heart melted. Surely, surely, there was an exception for Iffy. They were Pride, after all. Clearly they were a leader of some sort in their own family. She found herself wanting Iffy’s approval–the approval of her leader. 

    A grimace brought Massani back. She lay by Iffy’s feet, tending to the wounds on her hands and feet. Her tail curled around Iffy’s ankle, idly. She looked to it, then to the being. She did not have a leader, not anymore. She was her own leader, was she not? She had a mission, one she could not abandon, not even if Iffy asked her to. Yet she still found herself wanting Iffy to smile at her, to nod, to call her friend once more. She wanted a family again. 

    Grief, no doubt, was making her foolish. She looked down at her hands, the wounds sealing after some time resting. No doubt this affection would make her weak in Iffy’s eyes, would push her away from gaining that approval. She sighed heavily and set her chin on her hands. 

    It had been several months since she spent time with anyone that would not soon be her prey. She missed it more than she realized. Perhaps more than what was healthy.

I’m posting every day this week to gear up for the release of my second book! Check it out here!