Just kidding. Thank you, Lady Arin, for the body crayons. I had much fun with them, I did. *runs to take shower* Itches like the dickens, though...
Soooo, for all of you who are currently wondering what the Blight is, I shall enlighten you: It's a deadly incurable disease I invented for my book. Muahahaaa!!! Yes, I'm that evil, but every adventure story is more exciting with a deadly incurable disease in it, right? The Blight is spread through direct contact with another Blighted human or Fae, although it originated from a specific type of plant in the Blighted Basin. Yeah, something like that. There's actually a bit of text to go with this one:
After turning the campsite inside out, Ellian finally thought to search the stream bank for her sister. Sure enough, Anabeth was crouched by a small, gurgling waterfall about twenty yards outside the camp. The tiny waterfall splashed down into a clear pool, which Anabeth was crouched over, washing her arms in the cool water. Ellian stood silently for a minute, watching from the shadow of the trees. Her sister rinsed the mud from her arms with angry vigor. Her sleeves were pushed up past her elbows, and Ellian stared with a good deal of worry at a glint of green on Anabeth’s right forearm. Ellian had not noticed the green before. At first she assumed it was a leaf or some other foliage stuck to Anabeth’s arm by the mud, but as she continued to watch, she became convinced that it was not plant matter. For the mud slid easily off of Anabeth’s skin and was carried away down the stream, but the flash of green on her forearm remained, as clear as before.
Ellian could not suppress her gasp.
Whirling about, Anabeth reflexively yanked her sleeves down to cover her arms. “Ellian, I told you I wanted to be alone. What are you doing here?”
Anabeth shouted at Ellian often at home. She was used to being shouted at. Unfazed, she answered, “I came to see if you were okay, and you are apparently not. Have you looked at your forearm lately?”
“No, because there’s nothing to see,” Anabeth growled back. She tossed her braid defensively over her shoulder and rose from her crouch in a smooth motion. “You must have been imagining things. Come on, let’s get back to camp.”
If only Ellian was imagining things. Poor Anabeth, hee. Don't worry, she comes back to life later...
Anabeth and Ellian are Mine. No touchie, or ah will getchoo wid mah spork o'doom! Phear the wrath an' all that.
Commander Kip
Normal is overrated!
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