Drabbles (100-word stories)

It has all to be about Dille, hasn’t it?

Dille, Dille, Dille, Dille!

‘Azar, hey!’ Wolf pulled his shoulder; woke him from his daydream. He shook his head; his eyes wandered over the thousands of poppies that were all of the sudden surrounding them. Him. Wolf. Her. Once his eyes had landed on her face he could no longer look away. The brunette’s smile was half amused, half surprised. It ought to be: the poppies made a clear line towards her. In half an apology he shrugged and smiled. He should be sorry for his powers getting out of control. But he was not sorry, not in the slightest. Not even at all.

Dream walker

Nights he had been staying awake; looking at her dreaming. He didn’t need the rest, but the wariness of being awake all the time ate on his mind all the same. Not as much though, never as much, as the knowledge that when he would sleep, he would eat her dreams. That she would wake from a void that was more terrifying than any kind of death. No. He would take pleasure in being awake, no matter how many nights were yet to come. He found solace in watching her, more than he ever would in any kind of dream.

Flowers for a flower

He shaped the red petaled poppies with nothing but a mere thought. First one, then two, three; a dozen, until he had a bouquet filled. On first sight they all looked reddish, perhaps a bit orange. However, when one would look better, they would notice that they seemed to be subtly shifting in colour. Much like the sky that was set on fire by the sunset: orange, red and yellow painted on a heavily canvas. With his free hand he touched her face, sought the reflection in her shimmering eyes. ‘I would shape heaven for you, if I only could.’

Something innocent, something painful

He glowered at the guy. He didn’t know his name; he didn’t care where he came from. All he cared about was the fact that he was standing too close to his girl. That he thought he was allowed to laugh at her - he was not - and to touch her - most certainly not -. Azar considered for a moment to create something that would eat the guy - like a wolf or a tiger -, but then decided against it: it would upset his two favourite flowers. But still. Maybe he could make him sprain an ankle or so. Something innocent … and painful.

Love, love, love.

He looked at her, totally captured by her beauty. He loved her eyes: the warmest shade of brown, tempting and deep as molten chocolate. He loved her hair, the way it fell over her shoulders, nested against the skin above her collarbones; framing her delicate neck. He loved the way she moved her lips when she talked to him, and her hands when she touched him; carelessly and loving at the same time. Most of all he loved her laugh and the way he could make her eyes shine with a joke or an unexpected declaration of his undying love.

In the rain, honey

horse shape He shook his head and rustled his feathers; shedding a handful of cinders around the pretty mare next to him. He didn’t like the fact that it was raining. It made him worry that she was either cold, or would get dirty. Things she didn’t worry about at all. Softly he touched her neck, stretching his wings further to shelter her from the rain. Her smile was dazzling as ever: bewitching him in more ways than he could describe. The weather made him grumpy; yet, she never failed to remind him that there was magic in dancing in the rain.

Dill-icate dreams

Jack stared, both in amusement and confusion, at his favourite walker between worlds. The young man was frantically searching for some herb called ‘dill’. Even though he was vaguely aware of the fact that Azar apparently had fallen for some kind of angel by the name of ‘Dille’, it was still a mystery to him why he would be doing such a thing. Especially with this kind of devotion. Dill was, after all, no pretty flower, not something you would give to a lady. Not that he did bother to ask: the whole love-sick act was way too amusing.

Flamingo Garden

Without making noise he leant forward; spied at her around the corner. What was she building? A flamingo? Since when did she like flamingos? What colour was it? Pink? It certainly looked like pink. So pink it would be. Pink flowers, pink garden, and pink flamingos. He needed to find someone who was dreaming about flamingos. Couldn’t be that hard. He could always force someone to dream about flamingos; induce them with ideas before they went to sleep in his bar. He needed those flamingos. Pretty pink flamingos for his lovely Dille. It would be a most lovely surprise, indeed.

Origami Flamingo

counterpart by alimarije. She's balancing on the back ends of her chair, the tip of her pen between her teeth and her eyes focused on the task at hand. As every other week she had found a new hobby to waste all her time on, some weeks it was flower arrangements, other weeks she was dead set on learning how to climb a mountain. There's no limit to what she can accomplish, or to how many things she can take on at once. A smile spreads on her lips as she folds the last crease on her new best friend: an origami flamingo.

By all that is holy

Azar being taken aback by his tremendous love for Wolf

‘By Uá,’ he whispered, ‘I missed you.’ Putting her safe and sound back on her feet, he looked down at her. Wolf’s eyes were a shade of green that was almost lime, and even in the darkness that surrounded them, it was the kind of colour that was incredibly hard to miss. He knew that she could see him way clearer, perhaps in more ways than he could ever guess, and he pondered what the things were that she saw when she looked at him in the absence of light.
She shook her head, loosening her curls over her shoulders; a mouth full of laughter and eyes filled with joy. ‘I missed you too.’
It was the kind of joy that left him at a total loss of words, but that filled his body with a warm oozing feeling that brought him more comfort than any dream ever had. He offered her his hand, or rather: he asked her for hers, because he needed her to find him the way in this darkness. ‘What about that extra candle?’
‘Can you blow it on?’ He didn’t need any kind of vision to catch on the delightment in her voice.
And what else could he do than to give in to such a request: ‘Anything for you.’
She let go of his hands and spinned around. Again and again. Till she staggered and almost tipped over. He stretched out his arms and caught her. ‘What are you doing, my little princes?’
‘Spinning. If I spin fast enough maybe the candles will catch flame themselves, or maybe the wind will pick me up and take me away. Or this house will turn into a palace and the rooms will be stacked up with all kinds of magic. Or -’ He hushed her by putting a finger against her lips.
‘You are such a wondrous little creature, I would hate to miss all that magic inside of you when you would set it loose into the world.’ She bit his finger, hard, and threw her head back; her lime eyes twinkling in the dark, laughter escaping her mouth.
‘No. You would love it. You love everything that is magical and wondrous and you would love to share it with me and yourself and the world. If you actually could dance, you would love that too, because than you would finally see the magic that hides there too.’
She could not possibly know how much he loved her in that moment. How innocent and holy she was in his eyes.