words from a wanderer

The Dragon She Met

Here is my Nalu week entry! finally! I’m late and I apologize, but, come on, most people are late like me so blegh. anyways, This fic was BETAed by @x-benihime , my senpai. It’s fluffy, and kinda cannon/fantasy Au, I guess??? well, I hope you guys like it!

Rated: K

Pairing: NaLu

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 2660

Summary: Given heartbreaking news from her father, Lucy wanders into the forest, crying in her pain. soon, she finds herself with no way back, and thus seeks shelter inside a cave. never would she have expected to meet a real Dragon, who seemed more infuriating than menacing or threatening.

The tears dripping from her cheeks would not stop no matter how many times Lucy tried to wipe them away. Her sleeves were soaked by now, tinged by the sadness accumulated in the girl. Scrapes and bruises decorated her porcelain skin, but it did not even begin to compare to the wrenching pain smothering her heart.

It felt as though one had dug their claws into her chest, ever so present as it pressed on, intensifying into unbearable pain. Sobs soon began erupting from her throat, yet she fought them back as well as she was capable of.

Despite her agony’s evident reality, the realization of what transpired had only but begun dawning upon her. She still could not quite believe what she had seen and been told.

After moments of heart weighing tears and hiccups, Lucy finally found the strength to stop. She released a steadying breath then and sat down on a fallen trunk behind her. Her gaze roamed swiftly around, and her heart dropped as her location came clear—a meadow in the forest. Lucy would have been satisfied with this turn of events if the path home was not beyond her knowledge.

Desperate, she stood. She swiftly observed her surroundings, seeking the dirt road she had previously taken. However, her efforts were in vain; her mind had been too confused to think of anything but running. The slashes on her skin proved it; she had fallen on countless occasions during the way, tripping over root and boulder alike and running into dangerous brambles and bushes. She could only hope nothing had been poisonous.

Her hands shot down to grasp the material of her dress, unwavering as she ripped it to shreds. The action vented some of her sorrows and anger, but that hadn’t been her objective. The silky material had already been torn by various branches, and it drained far too much effort to simply run.

With a determined nod to herself, Luy broke into a sprint towards the direction she thought right. She ran and ran, hopping over small animals standing in her path. Dust rose under the impact of her feet, shifting in the air behind her. She ignored it, though, and pressed on.

The light maneuvering among filters of leaves above her head soon began dimming, weakening. Heart pounding at the base of her throat. Breathing becoming harder. Panic was clinging to her and she knew it. Despite that, she still did her best to keep a calculating mind over the situation. If she lost reason, she would be stuck here for much longer, or worse—she would die. Whether it be at the hands of wild animals, or starvation over time, neither seemed appealing.

After what seemed like ages of pointless running, Lucy found her will faltering. Her knees buckled beneath her and she did not resist as her frame landed against a tree. Each gush of air that escaped her made her chest rise dramatically.

Tears stung her eyes once more, and Lucy did not bother to attempt to fight back this time. She was exhausted. But the reason for her fatigue was not solely from running. The new she’d been given rang in her ears.

Lucy shook her head.

No reason to dwell on such thoughts now. She had more pressing matters at hand, such as the distant rumbling of the skies. Gulping, Lucy twisted in the direction of the thunder. Her blood ran cold as she saw the brewing storm. In her desperate state, she had not seen the skies darken, nor felt the growing gale.

Cursing at her predicament under her breath, Lucy stood. She ran her tongue over her dry lips in thought and concluded there was no hope of finding her way back before the storm struck. She would need to find a place to rest in the forest.

And thus, the search began.

By the time Lucy had found the mouth of a cavern, scarce drops of water had begun descending from the heavens above. The wind was ruthless as it swiped at the land. The trees around Lucy bent to angles she could have sworn would make the trunk snap in half. Loud crashes had filled the distant atmosphere, the blonde tensing every time it clapped its power.

She sighed in relief when she stepped within the mouth of the natural structure. Instantly, as if on cue, the rain outside intensified to a downpour, twirling in the dancing wind. She gave it one last glance, then walked further into the darkened cave.

She squinted down at the length of the tunnel before her. She knew not what she should do, but she was aware that standing and waiting for the rain to dissipate would not only be boring but would surely force her thoughts back to the reason for which she had been thrown into this situation.

Therefore, she swallowed the lump in her throat and strode in. contrary to her expectations, there was an exit. The tunnel segued into an enormous chamber, lit by torches on all along the sides. The outer ground, near the walls, were littered with gems and stones. In the center, as though a spinning vortex, streams of molten gold flowed,  spiraling into a common center, woven and intertwined.

The place smelt like rock and ash, but it did not bother Lucy as much as she would have thought a smell such as this would. The air itself was hot, yet rather cozy.

“What is this…” Lucy breathed in wonder and awe, not expecting the answer that came.

“My hoard,” a voice answered, and Lucy screamed, whirling in its direction.

Keep reading

| lifestyles |

in the quiet light.

alex elle is a proud queen, poet and author of the book words from a wanderer, which encourages its readers with comforting words and messages, reiterating that “not all those who wander are lost; some are simply still finding their way.” here, alex reveals how she is finding her way and what it takes to stay the course. 

0V: when did you develop a passion for writing? can you remember the subject matter from your earliest writings? 

alex elle [ae]: my passion for writing was birthed around the age of twelve. i gravitated toward it because i struggled with depression and uncertainty, that i wasn’t comfortable sharing with anyone. with that being the case, i sought comfort in my journal.

0V: who are your inspirations: in writing, in life? 

ae: my greatest inspiration is my daughter; she is so vibrant and full of light. i had her at age eighteen, and at that time i was in a really dark place. she changed my life, and made me aware of who and what i was living for. i also write a lot about my personal journey which helps illustrate who i am now, where i came from, and where i am headed.

0V: what is your definition of a queen?

ae: a woman who is able to keep her crown on during adversity is a queen. a woman who can greet hatred with love is a queen. women can do anything, go anywhere, and do so quietly without having to say a word about her royalty. i truly feel in my heart that each woman on earth is a queen in her own right, some just aren’t aware yet. they’ll get there.

0V: how has motherhood shaped you?

ae: motherhood has molded me into superwoman. i am driven to be a bright light to guide my daughter. nothing can get in my way when it comes to her. momma bear to the max!

0V: aside from writer, mother and queen, what other hats do you wear?

ae: i make things. my jewelry line shopals will be three years old soon, and it’s amazing how far the brand has come! i am a full time entrepreneur, so being creatively stimulated is a must; i try and keep busy with new projects if i have extra time. i pay myself to do what i love and it’s so worth it! 

keep up with the IV part interview here


+ © neonV volume III: bare MMXIV |neonVllc  

0V: liz lemon

lifestyles director

on hickies

a sucked neck, painted with ink.

the marking. the art.
the energy left buzzing atop broken blood vessels

I adore the latch of mouth and neck;
an attachment of vulnerability and feral desire

conscious or unconscious,
there is meaning in the fragile bruised stain

that I could bear one hundred tattoos
for my own eyes
for my own fingers
of crescents and full moons
risen by the sweet mouths of lovers

Dear Future Lover,
I’d like to meet you one day. I often wonder what it would feel like to lay with you, to inhale your comfort and intertwine in the happiness of our silence. Maybe I’ll get to kiss you and the count the lines in your palm or miss you until I can’t take anymore of you being gone. I hope you think about me and wonder where I am. I’d love to meet you one day but until then, here I stand.