Emily (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
iluvroadrunner6) wrote2025-12-13 09:54 pm
iluvroadrunner6) wrote2025-12-13 09:54 pm
get your words out { 2026 } challenge tracking
Directory:
PERSONAL GOALS:Yearly Goals
OFFICIAL CHALLENGES:1/10/26: January Small Challenge: WIP Challenge COMPLETE 1/19/26: January Challenge: Tarot Prompts COMPLETE 2/1/26: Stop, Drop, Write COMPLETE
YEARLY GOALS
1/10/26 | january small challenge: wip challenge | original | 20 words | COMPLETE
1/19/26 | january challenge: tarot prompts | stormlight archive | 975 | COMPLETE
The beads of Shadesmar float around her as she leans against the railing of the ship, trying to find a nexus point she can use to get back to Roshar. She knows it’s dangerous, given that there’s a chance she could wind up somewhere else entirely, but she can’t stay here forever. Shallan needs to go home. She needs to get back to her boys.
And of course her responsibilities, and the war, and her life, but mostly her boys.
Pattern sidles up next to her, his comforting form settling on one side of her and Testament on the other, and she sighs.
“Do you think I’m doing the right thing? Trying to go back?”
“Shadesmar isn’t for humans,” Pattern replies. “You need to go home.”
She nods again, and she tries not to retreat into despair, concerned that after all the work she did to pull herself together, she’ll break apart again. But she isn’t alone. Shallan has her spren. She has allies. She just needs to find a way home.
She lets her hand rest on her stomach again, and she nods.
“Just take it one step at a time.” One foot in front of the other. And soon, she will find her way home again.
At least Adolin and Kaladin can support each other. At least they won’t be alone.
Kaladin can’t help but think of Shallan every time he sees the red of Chanarach’s hair.
She is not Shallan. Shallan would never be so dour. Shallan would spend most of her time either flummoxing him with her abuse of language or trying to make him laugh. He could use someone trying to make him laugh.
Whoever thought it would be a good idea to have Kaladin Stormblessed be the emotional balance of a room probably needed to have their head checked.
Oh wait. That was him.
If Adolin knew, he’d probably be laughing. Unfortunately for Kaladin, he’s pretty sure Adolin thinks he’s dead.
He hopes that one day, he will find his way back to them. He knows that Adolin and Shallan will keep each other safe, will provide comfort, will survive. He knows that if the cycle holds true, in a hundred years, they will be gone by the time Kaladin returns to Roshar again.
But has to hold on to his own hope to counter the despair of the surrounding Heralds. So he holds on to hope that he will see Shallan’s smile again, that he will have another chance to fight with Adolin at his back. That they will be together again, for better or worse.
He glances back at the Heralds with him, takes a deep breath, and begins again. He’ll just have to keep looking to the light at the end of the tunnel.
Adolin is the glue that holds all of them together and, unlike his incognizant Knights Radiant, he knows it. He and Shallan could stand on their own, stand on their own for the most part, but he knows that Kaladin is crucial. Kaladin reminds them of the small folk, of the people that need protecting, that all people need protecting. Shallan keeps reaching forward to dissect apart the pieces of their world, to understand the spren and the larger world at play. And Adolin keeps them grounded, draws them back, manages the community and gives them a shield to
And now they’re both gone, and Adolin finds himself unmoored in a way that he’s never felt before and it is driving Jasnah mad.
It takes weeks for him to get back to Urithiru, and he spends weeks after that pacing through the halls, a restlessness that is not common for him. He rounds a corner and stares down his cousin.
“Adolin. You need to sleep.”
“I can’t.”
He’s tried. He lies down on his bed and stares at the ceiling and worries. Worries that Shadesmar will consume Shallan and he’ll never get her back. Mourns the man who should help him find her, but he’s dead. No, there’s no sleep when his bed is empty and his heart is broken.
Jasnah’s face softens. “I know you miss Shallan—”
“Not just Shallan.” The words fall out of him before he could stop them, but if anyone would understand, it would be Jasnah. The one who wants to see the truth in things above all else. She would keep his secrets.
Her head tips to the side, observing him. “Stormblessed?”
Adolin nods once.
“Does Shallan—” The question is cut off by the expression on Adolin’s face, and Jasnah’s eyebrows raise. “Oh.” With the quiet stretching between them, the weight of the confession hanging in the air, and Jasnah, who is not the best at comforting, processing the information, she steps forward, giving his shoulder a soft squeeze.
“I know you can’t fix death. Kaladin is gone, and … he’s gone, and I will grieve and move on, but I can’t give up on both of them. I can’t give up on Shallan, Jasnah, and you can’t give up on her either.”
Jasnah’s quiet, her hand resting firmly on his shoulder. Their small fragmented family was never much for genuine affection, but he knows her well enough to know she’s choosing her words carefully. Jasnah’s tongue is wielded to wound more often than not. But in the end, she nods.
“I’m not giving up, Adolin. I promise.”
His shoulders slump in relief, knowing that he isn’t the only one looking, and once she sees that give, she sighs.
“But you will not be any good to her if you don’t sleep.”
The logic cuts through this time, and he nods, turning to stumble back to his room. Maybe tonight he will finally sleep, hoping at least one of them will return to him one day.
2/1/26 | stop, drop, write | everyone lives | 372 | COMPLETE
There are several reasons behind this decision. One, they are not friends. Friendly associates at best, and when she doesn’t leave a message beyond asking her to call her back, Scarlett opts to wait. If it was an emergency, she would have left a more detailed message.
The problem is she keeps calling. She’s down to once a week at this point, but she hasn’t stopped. So there must be something that she feels Scarlett needs to know, and since Russell is starting to pull away, starting to reach for the world a little more, Scarlett decides it’s time to retreat back into her life which means finally returning Donna’s call.
“Scarlett,” Donna sounds almost relieved. “Are you alright?”
“Fine, Donna. We were just staying off the grid for a while.” Scarlett leans against the counter as she sighs. “What do you need?”
“Do you know where Rusty is?”
Her jaw sets, glancing over at where Russell is stretched out on the deck in the sun, eyes closed, enjoying the first glimpses of spring. “Why do you want to know?”
“A friend of mine has been trying to get in touch with him.”
“Why?”
“It’s personal.”
“You do realize that people try to kill him often, Donna. I know the main culprits are dead, but we aren’t certain that all of those looking to interfere are gone.”
“This person does not want to kill him.”
“And you know this because?”
“Scarlett—”
“No, Donna, if you want to talk to my son, you’ll have to play the game.” She’s grateful, briefly, that Rhett isn’t home and Russell doesn’t have super-hearing. Donna is silent on the other end, and Scarlett simply waits, wanting to see what she’ll actually say. Eventually, the other woman exhales, resigned.
“Would you just let him know that I want to talk to him? Please?”
“Maybe.” Scarlett is feeling difficult today. “Is there anything else?”
“No. Nice talking to you as always, Scarlett.”
Scarlett hangs up the phone as Russell makes his way inside and raises an eyebrow. “Who was that?”
“No one,” she replies with a smile. She’ll tell him about Donna eventually. But not right now.