VERENthelion

But Sam lay back, and stared with open mouth, and for a moment, between bewilderment and great joy, he could not answer. At last he gasped: "Gandalf! I thought you were dead! But then I thought I was dead myself. Is everything sad going to come untrue? What's happened to the world?" Step, step, step. Ienzo's eyes flickered away from the novel to stare curiously at the door as the heavy sound broke his spelled reverie. Apparently someone was walking down the hallway, which was an uninteresting piece of news in itself, although these footsteps were not Angela's quaint, butterfly heels but powerful, confident ones. The boy tilted his head, sti

He hated the smell of hospitals. The too-clean scent practically burned his nose, and the alcohol smell didn't help with the sting, either. It was unnaturally clean. So all in all, when Ienzo woke up, the first sense to come into "consciousness" was his sense of smell. His mind had slowly started to wake at first. It felt like a thick fog was coating his brain, blurring and deleting all rational thoughts and instead replacing them with confused and hazy fragments – his emotions mirrored his mind. Tired, befuddled. He hadn't even attempted to open his eyes yet. In all honesty, he didn't really want to, or hadn't even thought about doi

Ienzo awoke to the smell of smoke. He had been dreaming in a deep sleep when his scent was marred with the acrid smell. The intensity of it was so strong, the boy immediately awoke, inhaling deeply only to erupt in racking coughs as even more smoke stifled into his lungs. He was too tired to make sense of the situation, his mind muddled and confused as he squinted his watering eyes to protect them from the sensory onslaught. The scene before him was grim – the entirety of his room was filled with smoke that had been snaking under the cracks of his doorway, and the thickness of the stuff was building. Smoke. Ienzo's mind sharpened imm

A warm breeze lazily swooped in from the east, filtering through the leaves of the enormous trees of the park, who themselves were finished blooming and giving off the last scents of spring. The wind tugged with warm fingers at the boy's light blue hair, making him raise a hand without thinking and shuffling the disarrayed spikes to line them back in place. Ienzo leaned back into the smooth wooden bench more, rolling his shoulders slightly to get into a more comfortable position. He hated waiting, he really did. Most boys of his age were impatient, and the nine year old was really no exception. Anxiously, his light blue eyes flickered left