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Young Writers Society


Out of the Shadows



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Gender: Gendervague he/she/they
Points: 50
Reviews: 425
Thu Mar 23, 2017 8:24 pm
Vervain says...



Somewhere in the Australian desert, a woman clutched at her stomach and tried to keep herself from bleeding out. She grasped with her free hand at the red sand by her face—she had to get to her focus! It was only so far away!

A black high-heeled shoe kicked it behind a rock. The shadow of a dragon blanketed her—scarce relief from the sun when she looked up at the woman over her. "And what do you think you're doing?" the Antiscian purred.

- - -

The Director looked up at the three agents shifting nervously in front of her. They weren't the best of the best—no, the elite were preoccupied with the Australian conflict—but they were somewhere up there. People who did good work. People she thought she could trust.

She folded her hands on the top of her cherrywood desk. "Thank you for coming. I have a very important request."

- - -

The Antiscian always wore cream. It was easiest to get the bloodstains out of—easier to replace than white, and easier to wear than black in the dead of Australian summer. As she stepped out of the changing room and onto the streets of Melbourne, she drew every eye on the street.

None of them belonged to the man she was looking for. She ran her hands through her hair. Hopefully she'd rinsed the worst of the congealed blood off her scalp.

- - -

One of the agents nodded. The others looked like they didn't want to be there. The Director simply smiled. She was well aware how uncomfortable her appearance made people; she chose to ignore it.

"We have found three new recruits globally. One is in Australia—those in the conflict will take care of her. The other two..." She slid two papers across the desk. "Are in these two locations. I'm trusting you three to seek them out and find them before my dear sister does. I do wish I could give you the complete files on them, but..." She glanced down at the other paper on her desk. She would have to replace her entire security force in that wing.

"But the files?"

- - -

Somewhere in the heart of the city, a man sat in the corner of a coffee shop, an unmarked manila folder on the table in front of him. A pitch black asp rested under the folder—but the white ring he twirled kept it there. His Familiar wouldn't move for the world as long as he held that ring.

He kept an eye on the door, hoping every person coming in would be his contact.

She was going to like this one.

- - -

"They've been stolen."

- - -

Agents:
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Recruits:
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Villains:
- The Antiscian - @Lareine
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NPCs:
- The Director
stay off the faerie paths








"The rules of capitalization are so unfair to the words in the middle of a sentence."
— John Green, Paper Towns