Spark

     The heat was almost unbearable, beating down on them as they tried to hurry everyone out of the section. Fire ate at the books on the polished redwood shelves with a harsh crackling sound. The fire had spread quickly with dry books for fuel. Some of the books let out ear piercing shrieks as the flames devoured them, revealing their magical nature.

   Sam helped a younger girl up after she tripped on an overturned chair. She pushed the girl along in front of her, finally getting out of the burning section. She hoped they could close it off before it spread even further. Bending over she rested her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. Her blood pounded in her ears so loudly she almost didn't hear when Veritie spoke.

   “We have to do something,” she said.

   “There's not much we can do,” Sam replied, straightening up. A wave of heat washed over her and Veritie floated back further from the fire. “Hopefully it'll burn itself off, once they shut the section.”

   But Veritie was already shaking her head. “Does that look like a normal fire to you? There's no smoke, even though it's burning hundreds of books.”

   Sam's stomach twisted. “Since when do you even care? I've never seen you so caught up in something.” It came out harsher then she meant, fueled by fear. Verities back stiffened and she glared at Sam. “Well even if it is magical what could we do?”

   There was a condescending tone to her voice when Veritie spoke, “well I think magic might do the trick.” She turned, facing Sam. She leaned forward till their noses almost touched, hands locked behind her back.     “And you have magic.”

Stepping back Sam shook her head. “I have enough magic to light a candle, which the is opposite of what we want right now,” she babbled, “besides there are people more qualified, like the head librarian, or even-”

   “The whole library will burn,” Veritie interrupted. Then she leaned back, tucking her heels up under herself, as if she were sitting on a couch. “But with my help you could put this blaze out in a second.” She tilted her head to the side, as if thinking, then corrected herself. “If you could find the source, that is.”

   Sam looked around to see if anyone was coming to help. The only people she saw were people still fleeing. The fire was spreading faster then she would have thought, tearing through the charms against fire like they didn't exist. Turning back to Veritie she forced the fear back. “How?”

   A catlike grin spread across Verities face. “Ask.”

   Sams mind raced. Ask what? Ask for the power to put the flames out? Ask for Veritie to do it? For what? She blurted out of the first thing that came to mind, not even processing the words before the were out of her mouth. “Help me.”

   Veritie laughed. “Good enough.”

   There was a moment when it seemed like everything dimmed, except for Verities gold eyes, which blazed like miniature suns. “Channel your magic through the pendent and cast your spell,” her voice like thousands of silver bells compelling and harmonious. “My magic will be yours.”

   The light returned, and with it the searing heat. Sam cast about for a spell that would help her, gripping it and casting without thinking. Using the ember stone she cloaked herself in a protection spell that shimmered gold against the heat. If she had tried that normally it would have drained her dry.

   She didn't hesitate now, plunging into the burning wing without a thought. Veritie followed behind, practically glowing. A bookself fell in front of them with a crash, almost knocking Sam to the ground.

   “There!” Veritie pointed to a small point of stationary fire. “Use a void spell!”

   But Sam didn't know any spells like that but she knew how fire worked. She could use that, right? Her panic fueled her as she cast a wind spell around the fire spark, holding it in a globe of air. At first it expanded, the fired growing, but after a moment Sam drew the oxygen out of the air, the fire dying almost instantly.

   Sam fell back with a gasp, leaning on a table and trying to catch her breath. Next to her Veritie clucked her tongue. “That was stupid,” she said, “You weren't thinking like a witch, you were thinking like a scientist. You have a lot to learn.”

   Sam wanted to point out that she had everything to learn, because she had never needed magic before, but her lack of breath kept her from doing so. Finally she was able to lower herself to the ground without
collapsing outright. She had a feeling her days of a calm life were over.

Red hot

    Sam woke late on Sunday, the only day she had off that week. It was late afternoon and the warm sun was red against her eyelids. She rolled over with a groan, not wanting to get up just yet. Rolling over she awoke fully as a throbbing pain shot across her palm at the movement.

   Swiftly sitting up Sam flicked on her desk lamp with her good hand to get a better look. Opening her palm she was shocked to find what looked like a knife wound across her palm, scabbed over but bleeding where the scabbing had cracked. Looking around Sam found a few spots of blood on the carpet next to her bed, but that was all. There was no blood on her or her bed.

   There was a necklace under her lamp and she picked it up. It wasn't hers, and it was definitely magic from the way it glowed. It looked like and ember from a fire, shimmering from orange to red to gold as if it were giving off heat.

   “That's a gift,” Veritie chirped from where she floated in the middle of the room. Her legs were crossed and she was propping her head up with her hands, elbows resting on her knees. “You've been sleeping forever,” she complained, flicking her long tapered ears. “There's nothing to do when you're asleep.”

   Sam just shook her head, tiredness returning. “Was the bloody cut a gift too?”

   Veritie just wrinkled her nose, looking disinterested. “Don't be stupid,” she finally said, turning her head and giving Sam a side-eyed look. “I just needed some blood to make the gift.”

   There was a long silence in which Sam tried to figure out if there was something else to the necklace or if Veritie just didn't realize taking blood from someone, especially when they're sleeping, was rude. Or maybe she did know and just didn't care. Finally she decided she just didn't care and looked over at Veritie, who had been looking more and more put off by the second.

   She was hunched over, face flushed a darker pink. Angled away she wasn't even looking at Sam anymore, instead focusing on the door. Sam sighed, slipping the leather string the pendant was on over her head before falling back against her pillow.

   Closing her eyes she pulled her covers back up around her. “Thanks, Veritie,” Sam finally said, “I really like it.”

   Across the room a smile spread across Verities face, her golden eyes shining a little brighter. She turned to say something and found Sam fast asleep. Pursing her lips she uncrossed her legs and leaned back to float horizontally.

   She supposed she could let Sam sleep a little bit longer. But only if they got to go to movies later.

Full of... (sunday scribbling prompt)

        Sam ducked her head as she moved along the hall. Even in college she couldn't make herself look at the people around her. She watched their legs move past, admired their shoes, and continued on. She got to her class and sat down in the back, away from the bigger groups of students. Her nose wrinkled in distaste when someone sat too close for her liking.

   Of course most of that had to do with the fact that every thought they had was clear as day to her. It was hard to like someone when all they thought about was your chest.

   Dark brown hair drifted into her line of vision, distracting her. She was sick of it, really. It was all Verities fault. Up until she showed up everything about Sam's life had been normal. Her sister was a witch of decent power and her mother worked with non-sentient monsters. Her mother had a great career and being a witch opened many doors. Sam was perfectly content with only being able to light a candle, that's how it was for most people.

   But then a spell in a house over and gone awry and Vetitie showed up in Sam's room. And wouldn't leave. At first she thought she was hallucinating, because no one else could see the summoned woman. How would someone with such little power be able to see something her obviously stronger sister couldn't?

Apparently her.

   Sam often had to resist the urge to glare at the woman walking beside her. Or at least pretending to. She never bothered to move aside as people moved though her. Sam had her appearance pretty much memorized by now, a result of staring at Veritie too long while trying to wish her away. Futile, but a way to pass the time. And who knows, maybe one day it will work.

   Veritie was very different from Sam. Where Sam was average height and lilth, Veritie was tall and voluptuous, all curves. Her skin is a dusky pink, almost like sunset, and her eyes are wide and gold under sculpted eyebrows of dark black. Her hair the color of a ravens wing, long and wild, hanging over her shoulders and held in many messy braids hanging among free hair. The only truly odd thing about her were the spiraling horns that curved from her skull like those of a ram. They were the same color as her skin, though they slowly darkened to a deep orange.

   Even among sentient monsters horns were an rarity. They were most common in demons, or, as Veritie herself was, Succubi and Incubi.

   Which made her all the more annoying to Sam, who really didn't want to know every filthy thought the people around her had. But Veritie just wouldn't leave. Sometimes she even showed up as a physical person, and Sam often suspected these times came after Veritie had... fed.

   Those were the worst times, because the thoughts always got worse. It was on one of those days that Sam lost her temper and spoke up.

   “I'm done with hearing everyone's thoughts,” Sam snapped, squaring up to Veritie. The taller woman blinked, looking startled. Then she laughed. Sam couldn't help but think it sounded loud, less like a ladies tinkling laugh, more like the huge brass bells that overwhelmed.

   “You should have just said,” Veritie chuckled. “You really must learn to speak up. I suppose that's why I'm here though, to help with that,” she managed to sound very put upon, even though she was there completely by choice.

   Sam rolled her eyes and walked away, at first not noticing the silence. No overly-loud thoughts assaulted her, no vile words and daydreams made her cringe. It felt like a weight lifted off her shoulders.

   “You're an awful person,” Sam said heavily, knowing Veritie was already back at her side.

   Veritie sniffed, turning up her nose. “Of course I am, I wouldn't be a Succubus if I wasn't would I?” She leaned down though, angling to get a better look at Sam's face. “But I like you.” She said it with finality.

   A sigh passed Sam's lips. Veritie always said that. As if it explained everything. Veritie didn't love her, that's not what she meant. She always made her preference for men clear. Sam had to suppose it meant she was Verities friend.

   What ever that meant to a Succubus.

  

(I kind of got carried away with this)

Comfort

 Cars thundered past on the road horns blaring. Once in awhile the sounds of a siren would pierce the babble of daily life. People roamed the streets, looking into windows of stores and cafe's. The bookstore stood between a coffee shop and an empty shop with a for rent sign hanging haphazardly on the locked door. The glass window of the bookstore was painted with sprawling blue letters spelling out Dream Spinners Books with fantastical creatures painted with thin white lines inside the letters.

The bell above the door was old and made of a dull brass and chimed every time the door opened. Inside the store was much like any other used books shop, with winding maze-like aisles of stacked books. Old oak shelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling with ladders set up on a system of tracks. A single spiraling staircase stands in the back corner and leads to a second floor of even more stacks and shelves.

Posters lined what spare space on the walls there was, advertising venues long past. A solitary desk set up along the main hallway held a modern cash register and a little sign with 'we accept credit' written in small, spidery letters. Behind it was a space of cleared floor surrounded by even more stacked books. A small table held a hot plate with a kettle, and shelved below were boxes of tea and hot chocolate. The wall behind it held a cork board pinned with advertising ranging from half off book day to a festival being held in the park a mile from the store.

The only person who worked there was an old woman with short snow white hair and a warm face. She had owned the store for years and wouldn't trade it for the world. When customers came in she greeted each of them with a warmth not often found in store owners anymore. If someone looked down on their luck, or just tired, she might offer them some tea or hot chocolate.

Sometimes it was just a bookstore, but underneath it was much more. It was a safe haven for people who were down on their luck or simply having a rough time. It was a place of comfort that could not be taken away. It was a place where people were able to shut out the world and enter a new one, if only for a time. 

Silence

 Golden light spilled through the cracks in the old stone ceiling, illuminating a crumbling alter. Lines of silver raced across it's surface in bizarre patterns, forming animals and plants made of knots and curls. All around it stood pillars of dark quartz run through with veins of white and gold. The walls were heavy with vines and moss, hints of murals once bright and beautiful peeking through. Long empty, the temple stood as a monument to times past. Magic had long since abandoned the land and taken with it the places of worship that once stood tall and proud. This temple alone still stood, the cataclysm that tore magic from the land missing it. It's priests and priestesses protected it to their last breaths and hid it from mortals.

For thousands of years no living thing set foot inside the holy place. Eventually magic passed from the memory of mortals and into legend. Time passed and it became part of life to believe that magic was nothing but something imagined by people long ago, something to use as a scapegoat or to explain great deeds. And so time moved on.

Vines wormed through hairline cracks in the building, because nothing keeps earth out, and plants will thrive where magic once lay. Cracks became gaping holes that allowed light inside but still wildlife shunned the building, as buried under rock and dirt as it was. The doorway that once stood open was covered in rock and vines.

There was a crack, a spray of crumbling dirt, and a body tumbles through the weakened ceiling. For the first time in centuries the silence of the temple is broken by a human voice. And with the silence broken so is the seal that kept the residual magic in. And that one human voice heralds the beginning of dark times for the mortal realm.

“Hello?”

Grieve

   Pepper Pots prided herself on being able to mask her emotions with a smile most of the time. Working as the glorified babysitter of Tony Stark gave her that ability. So when she found herself sitting at her usual table in the food court as per usual, waiting for Phil, she didn't immediately loose her composure when she realized he wasn't going to show up. Without missing a beat she disposed of the food she had ordered, enough for two, and quickly exited the mall.

   It wasn't until she was safely home that her mask broke. She mentally berated herself for forgetting, for showing up to something that wasn't going to happen. But he had been her close friend and she had grown close to the S.H.E.I.L.D Agent. He'd been there when Tony became too much for her and gave her someone to talk to about those things. About how Tony being Iron Man was harder on her then even she knew. And in turn she had been there for him. She helped introduced him to the cellist that he had mentioned was pretty. But that was all over now. He was gone and she had to accept that. She had to put aside all the things they had talked about, everything she knew about him. She had to remember that none of it mattered anymore.

   Pepper bit her lip, throat tightening against the oncoming tears. She hadn't really cried for him yet. Hadn't had time to grieve. This had been her first day off since Phil's death and it was just now hitting her. She let the tears fall. What did it matter, there wasn't anyone around to see. She knew it would help, to think about it, to accept that he was gone. But it hurt. He was such a close friend, was so understanding when it came to talking about Tony. He listened.

    She sobbed quietly, sounding loud in the silence of her home.

Based on this Headcannon for the Avengers: Phil Coulson

Wyvern's Might

The pained bellow of a dragon shook Alexia from her stupor. She pushed herself up off the hard dirt with bloodied arms. Trying to focus her sight she looked around for the source of the sound. Turning to her left she found a large green blur standing in front of her, a dark red smudge blending in with it. It took her muddled mind a moment to realize that it was Coria and the bandits dragon fighting. As her vision righted itself Alexia was horrified to find the larger and bulkier Drake holding Coria by the throat. Her loyal bonded was fighting for a grip on the red dragon but her strength was waning.

Alexia stumbled to her feet only to be bowled over by the bandit, who had apparently not realized the girl was still conscious. Alexia swore and swung her fist at the brutes head, just had he had done to her. Luck was with her and she struck him square in the temple, dropping him like a rock. Looking around for something to stop the dragon with, she found nothing. A small human like her could never hope to break through the armor plating of a drake with nothing but the hunting knife she had. Her stomach coiled into a knot as she watched the fight continue. Unless reinforcements came soon, Coria was going to die.

With a deafening roar a white shape dropped from the sky, slamming into the red drake with all the force of a meteor. There was a loud crack as the drake hit the ground where it lay, unmoving. The White Wyvern who had attacked stood over it's body, looking distinctly smug with itself. A small body slid from it's back, running towards the stunned Alexia. Snapping from her daze, she turned from the other person and bolted for her fallen Wyvern. Sliding to a stop she fell to her knees at her Wyvern's neck, pressing all her weight onto the wound. Blood continued to flow from the puncture wounds, soaking Alexia's front even as she tried to stop it. The white Wyvern's ride knelt next to her and tugged her away.

“There's nothing you can do,” the calm voice pierced her frenzied mind. “I've seen wounds like this before, and on a dragon there's nothing you can do to stop the bleeding without proper supplies.” Whoever it was sounded apoligetic, but Alexia refused to look away from Coria. Her Wyvern was watching her with huge, panicked eyes.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Alexia did the only thing she could do for her Wyvern. As she waited for her Bonded to draw her last breaths she sent calming, soothing feelings through their bond. As the terrified look left Corias eyes, it was replaced with a glazed, faraway look. Alexia chocked back sobs as the dragon tried to send her feelings to her human. They came out muddled, and Alexia couldn't determine what the dragon was trying to tell her. She tried to ask, but the bond holding them together suddenly snapped, cutting Alexia off from her dragon. Coria's eyes closed for the last time.

Giving into the sobs she had been holding back, Alexia leaned against her dragons neck. She would never again share the skys with her dragon, flying from city to city as a messenger. Her companion of more then half her life lay lifeless before her and Alexia felt like she had been cast adrift. And although the stranger who had saved her life tried to comfort her, she had never felt so alone.