Gwaihir

lol, not blond, but I over-think. I kept giving you answers that probably weren't all precisely right, but they weren't precisely wrong either, because I simply overponder. And I think we weren't allowed to research, that would seem cheating

Burpy Happyday? Sounds good, drink lots of pop on your birthdays and take care. !

To the woman who is strong enough to be my hero, But often isn't strong enough to stand, Thank you. And to the man who sometimes hates The ones who love him most, But knowing him--it's still worth it, Thank you. His wife who manages all that And writes and works and raises kids, Thank you. The man who gave me all my writing genes and so much else, Thank you. And to the man who loves us all Who gives more than he ever should, Thank you. To my patient pillar, so much Caring he sometimes baffles me. Reading society, giving advice. Thank you! And to that firey gal I know Who's wisely looking for herself ... and flirting with everyone else! Thank you.

Get stuck in a line-up, make criminal friends, hear about the kaiser and go stop a drug trade. Or watch the movie.

Gryphon Is Yours CrystalSinger?

So I shouldn't guess Katzaniel's? Below Princess Bride

Hasn't Mira's already been answered? If I know yours, Sweetcherrie, it's part of a trilogy.

Break out, O Endless Retrieve your own. Send out the dreams. Make the nightmares. Help a willing man die and the follow yourself Or read the series. Sweetcherrie, I know exactly which one yours is, but I Can not think of the title, gaaah

There's nothing much aesthetic about being quite ascetic. But it's even worse if you also want athletic. 'Cause if you want athletic, Well, that’s quite aesthetic, But if it's an ascete you dream to be, Then if you must, Well one can be an athlete too. Would make you more ascetic to be quite athletic, But skinny hungry starved and running hard, Simply Isn’t quite aesthetic!

Rune is a character written by a pen member here (the writer is a grown woman) so no I don't think it's literally true.

Ah the things I would do if I could afford the time to keep a mage alive.

As I heard said yesterday "if I could be half the critic or writer that Cyril is then I'd be a happy man"...well, woman, but regardless we appreciate you Cyril. Have a great birthday!

Does it say something that I don't have any of those six things and even if I were rich as Croesus would only get the microwave?

one picture suggestion: a really happy moose (if they get creative and think of a stuffed moose, this would be doable) Another picture suggestion: a prominent person in city government (mayor or someone) posing with a team member make them find the url of a writing website you attend frequently?

I think the first was done while you posted, but there I've changed the title. Cool story...but then I told you that in person .

Happy Birthday Sal, From yet another person who cares about you and really appreciates everything you bring to this place!

She sits against the wall, it is an ugly wall--cinderblock and stained. The paint is old, peeling and probably poisonous too. She doesn't look old (though her clothes do) but she does look relatively poisonous, particularly her mood. Sometimes her thoughts flow in words, but other times they're just emotions (mad, unfair, wasted life, jealous, lonely, frustrated, disgruntled, mad) other times she complains aloud, in words. Today as she sits she chews on unbrushed hair and sips gin out of the bottle. She mumbles "the rich cats don't do half the work I do, but everyone knows who they are. Damn secrecy bullshit." The rest of her mumbles aren't coherent words and the woman doesn't care. She's only speaking to herself anyway and eventually she's passed out. As close to happy as she ever gets. (wow, that changed a lot from the original, but neat) From Disgruntled

I'm definitely in on this.

Friends are those of us who understand what you mean...or don't, but stay here anyway just to be with you. Five times in the last two days, I've tried to PM you, Pered, just to chat, but each time the words didn't seem to have enough meaning, didn't seem to deserve to be sent If I were roll-playing, I'd offer you a glass of hot cider, but may I just offer a hug instead.

Happy Birthday indeed!

mystery-creater our own riddle-setter dancing turning, leaping laughing Mischevous sprite, you are named Finnius' muse! From nothing to nothing, Yet necessary lack of thing Without this emptiness, I'd hold A useless pointed stick!

That day when Gwaihir woke up, he was in bed--in doors--and thus he naturally expected a mammoth headache, so the first thing he did when he woke up was grab his head and look puzzled. Where was his headache? It was foolish to sleep inside anyway, because the hangover it caused was always terrible, but there had been some party last night that he couldn't get away from so he'd slept in doors. Only the Cabbages could remove his headaches when he got them and even for them it took two of them at work constantly for the duration of the headache. The Cabbages! That was it. Today was Christmas! That's what the party last night had been about and today was a perfect day to go see the Wiggly Cabbages. He practically jumped out of bed at the thought and remarkably enough even managed not to trip over his nightgown, a long odd looking shirt that his grandfather had put away as too old-fashioned to wear. Funny the way some things have a way of staying in the family. Finding his way to his feet, Gwaihir looked for the nearest way out. The door would have occured to most of us, but when he looked out his window in the keep, he noticed that it bordered on the garden, so he crawled right out. Even a clumsy elf should be somewhat light of foot, so it was about half way down (when he would have had about a floor and a half to go) that the tousle-haired crazy realized he was a fool. D-nit! This is why I wasn't supposed to leave home this way. I Know I've made a mental note about not climbing out windows someone muttered. He was only about a floor from the ground when he finally lost grip of the stones and toppled down(a new record for him, if he only noticed it) He took the fall well though, having been trained by long experience, and the only yells of pain came from pink Clotilda, beneath him. He apologized profusely, but she was tempermental and liked primping, so she was not easily mollified. Also, she had spent the last hour doing her face and then some clumsy creature comes and falls on her! The impudence. Probably those who passed by on the road would have thought Gwaihir a thug, but they only considered him crazy, because he spent half an hour sweet talking a pink rose who he said called herself Clotilda. No matter, Peasant number 3 thought he was crazy anyway. After that, the lillies demanded attention and Jane Smiley said she hadn't gotten her share of fertilizer, so he had to tend to that. But Gwahir did not forget the Cabbages. A short walk further brought him to Baron Pine who was old and deserved a bit of Christmas cheer, so Gwaihir stopped there too. He was an sickly fellow and old even for his race, respect was certainly due. But Gwahir did not forget the Cabbages. Then came the weeds. As he walked past a violet bed, Gwaihir heard a loud fight breaking out. Apparently a few onions had landed there and Missy Prissy was having trouble getting the light she needed because of them. She was young and this would be her first flowering, so all the grownups were protective. However, the onions were strong and quite hardy, so the match was messy. This sort of justice was Gwaihir's least favorite part of gardening, but he knew it must be done. Obviously he would not kill anyone, even an uninvited visitor, but something must be done, so he gave the onions the usual offer. Either they could be transplanted (a painful and often very scarring process from the plant's point of view, possibly even fatal, though that wasn't likely for a hearty plant, considering Gwaihir's skill) or if they wished to stay where they were, that would be allowed, but he would put a spell on them so that they could not grow or flower anymore. Weeds could not be allowed to take over other people's beds. These onions were very offended that Gwaihir would not let them stay as they were, but they insisted that they were scared of nothing, so after much coaxing (which the violets said was wasted on such offensive creatures) they agreed to be transplanted. He moved each one of them seperately into the lawn and that too took time, but Gwahir did not forget the Cabbages. Indeed, no one's face has shown more than this worthy's as he topped a hill and saw the Cabbage Patch. The sun was setting, but he sat down for a long talk. Nothing could make him forget these people.

So many quotes of mine on here...aww thanks guys, I'm ....touched . Okay, maybe I'm not, but I am amused if that counts.

Black may have started his quest in an unusual order, but now that we've discussed it, I love it. However, it is certainly true that you can't be promoted from QuillBearer to full member until you're a full member. I guess that's no reason not to do a quill quest now though .

A note from Zariah posted on the wall with so m any other nice notes for other people. Anyone else would have assumed that these notes were for the public to read as well as the one they were addressed to, but not Gwaihir. He assumed that it must have been given to him and then lost by him, so he scratched his head in confusion. Then he read it and blushed hugely. But, perhaps someone would see him blushing and guess how he felt? In the big hall of the pen an elf tried very hard not to blush, but anyone who watched could have seen him turning purple and scratching his head instead. He drew a quill out of his robe and then blinked with surprise to find that it was still there. Zariah, I'm sorry that I lost your note to me, but I just found it on this bulletin board no, no that wouldn't work, he drew a line through it and started over. Zariah, I just found your note on this bulletin board and I guess it must have fallen out of my pocket But, that's boring and probably seems uncaring he figures. My Dear Zariah, No! That was much too forward, he had no right to call her his dear....but she was dear...Also, maybe it was unwise to tell her that he didn't even remember getting the note. This was all much too confusing! Dearest Confusion, I am sorry for taking so long to answer your note, but sometimes words to not answer my call. You can not guess how much I have missed you, and sometimes even a loner walks around looking for people. But, perhaps you are mad at me for not giving you an organized date or for letting it trail off into discussion at the end? But, I loved the discussion and well...Can I see you again? Gwihir He didn't even notice that his name was mis-spelled at the end, but although he knew the letter was imperfect, he knew that he wouldn't manage to perfect it anymore. With a shrug and a blush, Gwaihir folded it, wrote Zariah's name on the outside and then pinned it up with the others. OOC: Katy, always great to see you around whether you're busy or not. I still feel bad about not writing up a more organized ending to our date, but blame it on my Gwai side . Take care, Rachel