WeepingWisteria

Vendetta pulled out a couple of wooden skewers. "Right here!" They handed them off to them.

Ki shook his head, still refusing to move. "Nothing." They crouched low to the ground, trying desperately to distribute their weight.

Vendetta looked through the bag. "I see sausage, a portable campfire kit, and some bread." Dawn sighed. "Fire-roasted sausage. How I wish I could eat."

Ki nodded and, once again, attempted to move. The bridge groaned, locking Ki into place. Maybe staying still wasn't a bad idea. They could stay on this bridge forever until ...

"I'm not going to do it constantly! I don't want to control people forever." Vendetta crossed their arms, pouting.

"I'm made of stone." Ki cringed. Thirty-six words was not a good place to be. "Have you never heard of a subterra before?" Subterra were native to Africa, but if ...

Vendetta flushed. "Uh, thank you. I didn't think that would work." Dawn spun in a celebratory circle. "You can control anything you please!"

"Periodic table?" Twenty-four. "I've never heard of that." Then again, subterras were never known to get the best education in the British underground. School usually consisted of British guards teach

Vendetta shrugged. "Let's try it." They leaned towards the door handle and gave it puppy eyes. "Car, please unlock."

Ki shook their head. "I've never seen a shirt like that before." Seventeen words. "Is it an American style?" Twenty-two. The most words he had ever spoken in a day ...

Vendetta perked up. “They might’ve packed a stove or something.” Dawn zoomed to the car. “Let’s check it out!”

Ki nodded, trying their best to not look anywhere that allowed them to see a speck of sky. Right now, that meant staring at this child’s (for he was much ...

Dusk hummed. “That’s the morning for you.” They floated slowly off of the floor. “Aw, look at the lovebirds.”

“Be more specific, Sadie. What’s here?” Emily cocked her head to the side, smile unwavering. “Clear communication allows others to be their perfect selves.”

Ki clenched their fists, barely avoiding drawing one of their swords. “I’m fine.” That made nine words that he had spoken thus far. That number left a bitter tinge in ...