White Forest by Azot2014 on deviant art
Introducing: The White Haven
A spiritual place that is created in the minds of a starling/dark-elf couple. Only the two lovers of that couple are able to enter within their white haven. The appearance of a haven is different for each couple. The starling loves only once, and only the person allowed in their haven. Not all couples are both starling. If one of the couple dies the haven dies also. The haven is non-tangible–hence the human senses save for sight being useless there–until the couple’s relation is consummated. Once the haven is made tangible it can appear at any place the couple chooses, though can remain a secret meeting place within their own minds.
I walk into my room. I mean, it is my room. My cave. I go there to sleep, to write, to waist my time, to play GuildWars2. It is my sanctuary.
As soon as I open the door, I shut it. I blink, my brow low. My lips are pursed as I consider what I had just seen. I open the door again…
Me: What is this?
I gesture to the white glow in my room. I can’t feel, smell, or taste anything. The only one of my senses in use is my site. I’ve only ever written one place like that. The couple on the bed–which is not my bed, so where did my bed go–can’t seem to hear me? They’re making out.
I have walked in on Doristanen and Eleventra. This is awkward. Why is their haven in my room?
I shut my eyes, press my fingers on my temples, and will them to a different location. My other senses tingle as my room is returned to normal. I smile, sigh, and open my eyes…only to find two unfamiliar characters making out on my bed!
Me: Whoa there! Stop it! I just got rid of one making out character-couple. This isn’t the “break-from-character-life-room” where ya’ll get to make out to your content!
Ber: (I realize who he is when I see his massive build). Did you think we were going to wait for you?
Me: (I glance at the girl, who appears embarrassed and flustered). What?
Ber: First you’ve written our outline, you’ve thought about our story, and then left us to gather dust in the jump drive sticking out the butt of your computer. Am I supposed to wait for you to write our story?
Me: …(growls) yes.
Ber: I don’t think so. First you create us, then you leave us to rot. Not to mention that I am to wait two whole books to kiss the girl you’ve thrust into my life, when I was miserably content in my cursed form.
They’re Beauty and the Beast, but a very different version of the story. Like…the only resemblance is the curse. And even that I’ve messed with.
Me: I can’t poop out everything all at once. I have writing-priorities.
Ber: Then why is Cinderella written?
Me: I am not having this conversation with you Mr. Grumpy jerk. (Glances at Beauty, who’s name I’ve not nailed down yet). I can’t believe you fell for this guy. Honestly. What a temper tantrum. Get him out of here, will you?
Beauty looks up at Ber, her eyes–often intent and calculating–have turned tender and soft. She takes his hands, and tilts her head. Of all the characters I’ve ever written Ber is the most fire-stricken of them, but his one weakness is his girl. After everything I’m going to put them through, how could she not be? She gives him a kiss, and they disappear.
…only to be replaced with…
Me: Stop it!