D.D. Ward is Writing

Amy sent for the kitchen staff to ferry me down to the drawing room by sedan chair. And I stewed inside my head the whole time. I had to let Amy know that we were asking her to expose herself to more danger. I didn’t like it. And calling on Vincent, that tied Agartha to this debacle. I might be able to ask Lynn to help. But I wasn’t sure if she would, or would turn me in. And either way, I didn’t want to expose Lynn to danger any more than I wanted to expose Amy to danger.  I didn’t know what I was going to do. The usual suspects occupied the drawing room. My mother and my aunt were chatting in one corner. Both wore bustled dresses with fitted bodices. My mother wore seafoam. My aunt wore lavender. Lynn and her father were playing chess in another corner.  Her father again wore a black jacket and waistcoat.  Lynn wore a pastel green empire cut dress with pastel pink edging.  And Great Aunt Cecile was reading a book in her favorite wingback chair. She wore another sac...

Amy lay on her back in the field of flowers. Petunias spread out from around her. Deep purple centers faded to pink and then almost white near the edges of the petals. Lavender rose petals drifted on the breeze. Some landed scattered across Amy’s exposed skin. Her maid outfit already lay unbuttoned and pulled open, exposing her corset. Somebody had unhooked her bra and it lay loose across her breasts. Behind Amy crimson roses bloomed. As I watched, the roses lightened to a sunburst orange. Amy looked at me with wide eyes. She blushed and put a hand to her breast. “Ren, please,” She whispered, “Don’t make me wait like this.” I smiled and licked my lips, “Don’t make you wait? Well, how can I refuse you?” I straddled her, my red maxi dress flaring out in a circle around her hips. I realized I wasn’t wearing a top, only a lace red bra. I leaned forward and took her face in my hands, cupping her cheeks. The roses behind her rippled from red to orange to red to orange. I stared into her crys...

“Lady Ren, you have a visitor.” I opened my eyes, “Amy?” Amy closed the door, “Yes Ren?” My brain struggled to escape the fog of sleep, and failed. I shook my head. My eyes settled on the rose on my vanity that Amy had brought, and I smiled.  “I’m not awake yet.” “I understand Ren.” “And Amy. Thank you for all your help yesterday.” “I’m sorry I wasn’t as helpful as the Countess Fiona.” “Amy, if not for your help, we wouldn’t have learned anything.” “But I can’t fight like her.” Amy said. I pushed myself up to a sitting position and then discovered I was too weak to shuffle myself out of bed.  “I can’t fight like her either,” I answered, “I don’t even carry a bodice dagger. I also can’t use the gift of object reading. Umm. Another thing I can’t do, right now, is get out of bed without help.” “You’re still that weak? I am happy to help my lady.” She climbed onto my enormous bed, “What’s weakest? Your legs?” I nodded, and she shuffled towards me on her knees.  “This makes tw...

I stumbled through the streets with Amy and Fiona supporting me. My legs were refusing to solidify. Instead, they preferred to remain as jell-o when I tried to put weight on them. The sun set behind us as we left the City of Octavo and limped our way towards Castle Octavian. The fading light of the day washed a layer of saffron and pumpkin hues across everything. We walked past the outskirts of the city, beyond the city wall. I was grateful that the streets were cobblestones and not dirt. I didn’t relish the idea of marching through the mud in this condition.  “Is this normal? When you have a vision, is this weakness normal?” Fiona asked. “Define normal,” I said between labored breaths. The heroine had no status effects after having a vision if the player took the precognitive gift. And since I had never been the rival before this, I had no idea if this was typical. The designers might have decided to ignore this bit of lore from a gameplay standpoint.  “Lady Ren can be off he...