[Summer 2014] Panjia

Every evening when I come home from working in my family’s shop, I stare out the window of my shed, fill my pen with ink, and I begin a letter. The letters are always addressed to him, and they usually begin in the same way, though the body is usually in regards to how I’ve been fairing day-by-day. They typically end in the same way as well, although sometimes I never finish them at all. The table in front of the window is always covered with them, and I would send them off to him if I knew where he was, or someone who could give them to him, but I never know. Occasionally I am left with a reminder of his existence, a piece of evidence, or a trinket. He leaves them for me when he comes by, when I am gone, when I am asleep, although rarely when I can finally see him. He comes to make sure I’m still here and safe, and leaves me these things to let me know he is as well, I’m sure of it. I leave them on my side of the sill to show him I know that he visited me, that I received his gift and await the next. I have been waiting a long time for him, and I know he waits until the next time he can give me something new, but I would like him to give me the best thing he can, the thing I wish for the most. And that is plain and simply him.

Three months ago, there came a knock on my door, right as the suns were preparing to descend the horizon; I was finishing my letter before all the light had disappeared for the day. I didn’t know how to answer it. It was usually my mother, father, or one of my siblings, but my heart slows in that instant where I hope to open it to him, to whom I wish to see above anyone else. I sighed from my daydream—the gentle knock awaking me from my hazy thoughts—and I arose to answer, unable to gather the excitement that used to pour forth from me in hopes that it would finally be him. Surely it was my mother to bring me some leftover meal, or my neighbor to ask for some ingredient. I would almost lose out on hope, and that’s when he never failed to reappear. Just as I brushed my hair to the side of my face and opened the door, I caught a dark glimpse of his silhouette from the intense setting suns. The glorious orange rays poured around his body and nearly blinded me for being unable to look away. He took one step forward and the shadow of his head shielded the sun from my eyes. My knees grew weak. As I hoped everyday for him to come, I was never fully prepared when he did. I was reminded of the existence of gravity and stumbled, only for him to straighten me, placing both hands on my arms and holding me up. He opened his mouth slowly, staring straight into my eyes.

“Roze…” was his only word. I hear people call me it every day, tens or hundreds of times, but when I hear him say it, I lose all ability to compose myself. I fell into his front and buried my head into his chest, unsure if one of my daydreams had become too severe, or if I had simply fallen asleep and this was some cruel illusion. My hands rose up and clutched his jacket, covered in silt and sand from the storms. I looked up to him with widened eyes, beginning to water, unable to hold back as my mouth opened and lagged as I tried to squeak out a word, any sound at all. I could not get anything out, not for lack of trying, as his eyes closed and covered my lips with his own. In that instant, my consciousness was left blank as he surrounded me in his protection.

My lips grew incredibly hot and my body felt as if it would begin to melt. I grew lightheaded and staggered back, but he held onto me, clutched me, unable nor willing to let me go. He pushed the door closed and led us further back in my shed, towards the bed made of layers of sheets. He let me down on my back and began to crouch towards me. His long hair shielded his rough facial features and almost draped over me. He parted our kiss and we caught our breath, gasping inward. I opened my mouth only slightly more, just to utter in return, “Xan…” and he enclosed my lips a second fierce time. My body was pressed into the mattress of cloth under me, and he made me his in that instant, groping my bosom over my dress, kissing me, my jaw, my neck, sliding the thin fabric of my dress downward and leaving a trail of kisses as he did so. I tangled my fingers into his hair on the back of his head, pressing him to me, bringing him closer, wanting him to feel his body against mine. These were the moments I dreamed of, and if it really were a dream, I did not care, for the bliss it brought me made it a worthy one.

My breaths were short, and an ache panged from my chest and heart, suffocating me. I was so nervous, and timid, and scared too; not from him, but knowing the inevitability that this wouldn’t last forever. Knowing that he wouldn’t and couldn’t stay here to continue and embrace me like this every day. So, I held him closely and cherished the here and now. If he would leave before tomorrow, I would deal with it when it did happen, but now he was mine and I was his. He made that absolutely clear to me in all his movements. I could barely control my emotions, as sobs sounded out from my chokes, my throat became blocked and tears streamed down the sides of my face. His oral assault on my chest halted and he brought his head up to mine, looking into my soul with his piercing scarlet irises. My gaze changed back and forth between those eyes and the slitted pools of black.

My heart was overflowing; I barely knew what to do, as if I would cough out my essence before him. Then, he laid his head to the side of mine and wrapped his arms around me, doing nothing else. He held me so close I heard his every breath slow to a steady pace, and it calmed me in return. I caressed the back of his head, his long black hair matted in places, straight in others. We became tranquil, and he raised his head up to peer towards me again. My face had relaxed in his hold and I breathed in slowly, though my hands sunk down and tugged his large dark coat open. He laid a hand on mine and placed a gentle kiss upon my forehead, slipping his arms out and letting the large garment collapse on the floor, followed by his belt and the weapons attached. One pair of matching black tunic and trousers were all that remained before he slipped his feet out of the buffeted boots he wore.

He looked towards me and gave me a genuine smile wanting me to join him in undressing. After realizing this, my cheeks flushed red, but I complied willingly, pulling my entire white dress over my head after leaning up with him and laying it with his coat. My white undergarments were still attached to my body, he eyed them, his mind set on their removal, and I read that in his mind. I, too, wanted him to remove his as well. I wanted us to bond naked together as one, desperately. I began to fidget with the strings to my corset, but he brought his hands to my arms, bringing them back between us, entwining our fingers and leaned in to kiss me yet again. He was much more gentle and affectionate this time, at peace with the lust that had built up after our most recent separation. He led his hands to my back and undid the knot, pulling me free and letting it drop aside the rest of our articles of clothing. My celeste skin and breasts were free for him to see, and it was embarrassing, but he took my hand and led it to the hem of his shirt, which I grabbed with his guidance and lifted it off him. His hair caught and then poured over his celadon skin when liberated.

We were on our knees on the bed, facing towards each other, our expressions warm and inviting. I felt myself overcome with desire to join together and leaned towards him, wrapping my arms around him, my head against his bare chest. He brought his arms around my body in turn, as I began to hear his heartbeat and yearned more for him. I sat lower between my feet and pulled his trousers down, revealing his aching length. I felt such a want for it and my libido rose as he kicked them off. I wrapped my fingers around it and slowly brought them back and forth, leaning my face in and kissing his stomach lightly. My kisses trailed downwards and I held him up, giving a kiss and then a tiny lick directly on his lower head. I looked up to him to meet his gaze. A warm smile crept to his lips as I felt his hand place itself on the back of my head and caress my hair with his thumb. My cheeks began to blush pink and I glanced downward again, returning my attention to pleasing him.

I lowered my head and flicked out my tongue, then daintily licked a trail up the underside of his shaft. I gave it one more kiss at the top before taking him into my mouth slowly, trying desperately not to hurt him with my teeth, and hoping he would be pleased because of it. This was my opportunity to show him my devotion, how long I was waiting for him, how much I wanted him. I brought more of him in before I began to suck on him, curling my tongue on the underside and inching back and forth. My fingers still around the rest of him swayed as I did, while my other hand slid up the side of his legs to his hip. I lathered him up in my saliva and leaned my head forwards, taking in as much of him as I could while sucking tightly. I heard him groan out, and that affirmation made my efforts worthwhile. I swirled my tongue around the head and let it slide up and down. The hand I had on his hips slipped down the front of his upper thigh until I brought it to his groin and cupped his scrotum delicately. My hand caressed and massaged it while I still had him in my mouth. I moaned out, having felt so aroused at being with him, giving him as much pleasure as I was able. His breaths were deep and rough, moaning my name a few times. It was a delight, until he pulled himself out of my mouth. A thin string of dribble connected my lips to where they had just been until it broke when he lowered himself. I looked towards him with bated breath as he sat with me, my eyes half open and my mind spinning, whether for lack of oxygen or overflowing arousal.

He leaned in close to me and pressed his mouth against my already parted lips, sliding his tongue along my lip and then passed my teeth. I felt it touch mine so softly, prodding for a reaction, and I gave in completely. I lifted my wet tongue against his, colliding against each other in a slick dance. It made me feel so weak, even in this sitting position. I felt helpless, and yet so safe in his care. He laid me back onto the mattress and left my head against the pillow, breaking our kiss for both of us to breathe heavily yet again. His lips returned to my neck and left small, loving kisses. I crumbled to pieces from his focused attention, yet he did not slow. I felt his hands grab each of my breasts and knead them, tenderly then stronger. My legs shivered and fidgeted as I felt him kiss my bosom, then his hot breath over my nipple before the warm sensation that followed as he took the perked nub into his mouth. His tongue waved over it side-to-side and in circles, pleasuring me as I did him. His hands crept to my white-colored tights and pulled them down my waist from both sides. They were removed slowly, bunching down my legs before finally slipping off my feet. In the end, they joined the rest of our clothes on the floor.

The world had descended into night and I had felt the culmination of both our emotions evaporate from our bodies like a mist and meld together in the hot air. He thereafter closed the distance between us and the auras of heat, passion, and sentiment emitting from our bodies empowered each other, forming a sheath we hid within. Leading with an impassioned kiss, he positioned his manhood and I felt the tip prod against me. His eyes remained with mine, and he hesitated only long enough for me to nod affirmatively and longingly as I placed my hands upon his shoulder and back, bringing him as close to me as I possibly could. Then, I felt him plunge into me as he tucked his head next to mine, nibbling my lobe and rolling his hips forward. The initial tightness at my center relaxed to accommodate him and I finally felt a wholesome sensation that I was cursed to be without for what seemed an eternity. The air within me rushed out of my chest as he pierced me wholesomely, causing me to gasp from the intensity. Feeling him enter and fill me, I truly felt connected to him in the most primal, yet compassionate way.

The sensations were prolonged as he began to rock his hips out and inward, in a piston-like movement. My hips raised and my back arched into his presses from the pleasure, easing his motion. I could not help but let my moans out, quiet at first, then elongating and becoming more lewd. He whispered my name into my ear and kissed my neck and jaw, showering me with affection. I barely had the breath within me to reply his name, though I tried, and with each time I became more emotional than before. His hips picked up their pace and he began to thump into me with more vigor. I could hear his breath grow gruff beside me and his heightened sense of pleasure became erotic to me as I brought a hand to the back of his head, keeping him close and pressed to me. He leaned his head up and looked towards me as if possessed, allowing his love for me to carry him onward. And I accepted him wholly, as if nothing in this world would tear us from this spot in time. We went on and on in that euphoric haven, the constraints of our lives bearing no importance to us. There was simply him and I, the two of us in a sanctuary of bliss, with nothing else but each other to cherish.

I was losing myself in the moment, him above me, and also inside me. I bit my bottom lip gently, just to anchor my bite while he thrust inside me continuously. He became relentless in giving me his entire being, and I began to feel something deep within me start to simmer. The forceful pounding he had progressed to was luring it out from within me, in addition to the toxic stupor I had fallen into. His breaths became more brisk as his rhythm picked up, his mouth agape in front of my own; our faces mirrored each other in ecstasy as if inebriated by some potion. His lips brushed against mine after one thrust, and after the next he connected them together, our dimly open eyes closed in synchronization with each others. My legs that lined his sides elongated and wrapped around his hips and tail until my feet twisted together, locking him with me. Our lips divided and I yowled out in a broken manner, the feelings of pleasure washing over me. Together, our eyes opened and met. He laid his fingers against my cheek and whispered that he was nearing his limit. I replied with a smile, a nod, and tightened my legs around him. He smiled back truly and grasped my cheek as he connected our lips once more, bearing his hips down to me stronger. I felt the simmering within my body begin to boil and wailed as our kiss broke. My euphoria was at a plateau and I felt my muscles clench around him in every way. He tucked his head to the side of mine and I felt him push once more into me with such force driving the impact. He pulsed and spasmed within me, his hips shaking as he buried himself as deep into my core as possible, then groaned and filled me with his love.

Our orgasms lasted and we floated through existence as one, as if together we ascended to purity, until our inevitable return to the world. We panted and gasped until our breaths regained balance. Then, he slid off me to the side and faced towards me, his eyes opening slowly. My legs were numb and settled, though I tilted my head towards him, meeting his gaze. Our bodies began to calm and settle until the point where I felt comfortable enough to turn towards him on my side. I etched his features into my memory as I felt his hand tenderly being placed on my hip, gliding up and down the curves of my waist and arm. I heard him confess to me in barely above a whisper. “Roze…Roze…I love you…I love you eternally.” I could barely manage a response as a feeling of fatigue swept over me as I felt reality fade and drifted away from consciousness.

The sounds of morning and the warmth of sunlight woke me. At first I was calm and at peace, but I felt the gravity of the situation increase as I turned my head to where he had been before I fell asleep and saw an absence that ached my heart. I leaned up and glimpsed around the room, looking for any indication as to his presence, but found none, his clothes that I removed myself had vanished as if everything I experienced had been a mirage, although mine were still scattered. My stomach churned as reality washed over me and my sadness began to flow. My eyes watered as I brought my legs into my chest and wrapped my arms around them, sobbing into my knees as I tucked in my face. The tears streamed down my cheeks and I made no effort to wipe them, feeling no motivation to go on at all. I sniffled and glanced upward, feeling empty and lonely, struggling to find the strength to lift my head and clothe myself.

I felt drained and sore; the toll of last night was taken from my body, serving as a bittersweet reminder. I sighed quietly, my breath leaving me, and then halted entirely as I peered towards the table in front of the window. Every letter that I had wrote, every page both finished and not, crumpled and folded, each sheet was gone and taken away. I felt the tears return and my shins buckle. There was something placed at the center of the table and I barely managed to stumble my way towards the chair, sitting upon it in an awkward manner until I could slide my legs under. I lifted it into my hands. It fit in my palm and was in the shape of a heart. It glimmered even though it looked to be made of sediment, but I knew what it was. It was petri-sand, a material both rare and coveted, and an elegant “R” had been chiseled onto the center. This was his latest of treasures he left for me. My emotions were collecting as I felt the smooth stone thoroughly. It managed to calm me in time, and after, I placed it upon the sill alongside the others, where it would remind me to have hope and grant me the strength to continue. I’d look upon it and the rest of them every day as I’d begin another letter. It wasn’t too long before the table became scattered with them again as life went on.

That was three months ago. I spend these days just the same, though the seasons are starting to turn yet again. I return from the shop and glance on the windowsill as a force of habit, though the feelings of happiness that erupt within me when I see each item fills me with perseverance. Today I begin another letter to him, I write about the people our shop helps, and how my family is doing. I tell him that I am well, even though I miss him very much. I tell him that I love him, to be careful, and that he means the world to me. I write softly and elegantly as I pen out my appreciation for him and everything he brings me, though I assure him that I want him the most. My tail whips gracefully with excitement as I think of how to word the next sentence. Lastly, I write how I hope the day he returns again will not be far away, and that I hope it will be in time to see my gift for him develop healthily. I sign it lovingly and set the pen aside. Although I still cannot address these letters, I am content with the comfort they provide me now, and that I know he would love to read them all thoroughly, taking them with him and giving him the same hope that his gifts bring me. My hand slips down the table and lies against my stomach that has begun to swell, stroking it smoothly. The corners of my lips tilt into an intense smile and I sigh deeply. I look out the window as I rest my cheek on my hand, my arm supported by the table. The memories of our last night together race through my mind and especially the words I left him with: “I love you too…and I will always be here for you.” I always will, until the time he comes back to stay or takes me away with him. One day soon, I hope. My daydream is cut short as a knock happens upon my door. The knock is a familiar one. My mind settles as I begin to realize who it is, and my unavoidable smile grows bright. This is the life I have chosen, and although our world isn’t perfect, I question how it couldn’t be as I rise to my legs to answer him. I open the door slowly and see him come into view. His warm features reflect my own, our gentle complexions meet each others with love and he steps forward in due time, bending to give me a romantic kiss. With an ever-growing fondness in my heart, “welcome home,” I tell him genuinely.

---

A/N: It's very interesting considering we almost never get lemons anymore since our one-shot hero Joe-kun packed up and left. I think the only actual full-blown lemon submission to an event we've had was one by GroverCleaveland for our 2010 winter competition and the winner of the summer competition in 2012. Needless to say, those were quite a while ago. I've self-proclaimed myself as a lover of erotic fiction, but it occurred to me that I hadn't written or submitted one before. So, I set out to do just that in a scene with tastes I prefer, though it may grow into something deeper that I may add onto in the future to give a proper story. Who knows?

I made it subtle at first, but for those confused, I made it increasingly evident that this takes place on a world that is certainly not Earth. I would say think of a speculative-fiction story in the style of James Cameron's Avatar, but even that is a little too exotic from what I intended. It is not Earth, but similar in many ways. Don't imagine the people as fully deformed aliens, but as very similar humanoids despite small exotic changes that a different solar system would yield a human-like species. What I'm saying is that I don't intend this to be some furry-mania Sonic fanfiction, though I honestly couldn't care less if people write that. To each their own.

Everything has been thoroughly proofread, so if you catch something I didn't, I will give you an e-cookie.

3,999 words including title. Thank you for reading.

I'm not a fan of erotic fiction, and I probably wouldn't have read this if I wasn't returning the favor, but it's very well written. If I had one bone to pick, it'd be paragraph length.

They're a bit big in general. I suppose it comes down to taste, but you could definitely break some of them up. Take the first paragraph for example.



I would have started a second paragraph with this sentence. The whole thing is about him, but the first half is focused on the letters while the second half is focused on these little gifts he leaves the narrator.

The focus of this may have been the sex, but there were some questions that cropped up that I was hoping would have been answered.

1) Not overly important, but how did this relationship come about?

2) The thing I was really hoping to have more light shed on was the nature of their relationship. What does Xan do for a living that brings him away from Roze for months at a time? Why does he show up in the middle of the night at random, place little gifts for Roze, and then leave without even saying hi?

I'm under the firm belief that no one is capable of finding all the errors in the things they make with their own hands, no matter how thorough they are. Typos and other small nitpicks:

Well, you flatter me. I am disappointed in a few areas, and I know a lot of the users here don't typically like erotica, so I feel like a bit of an ass that I didn't put a forewarning at the top and settled on talking about it in the Author's Notes at the bottom, so a forewarning has been placed at the top. Sorry if it made you uncomfortable.



You make a compelling argument. If you notice a trend in how I make my submissions, it's that I usually have a hard time ending a paragraph and thus end up with rather large blocks of text similar to that of an actual novel. I understand that this might be a pain to read through, though it typically doesn't bother me. I would however like to keep them logical pertaining to the content within, so I will have to see what can be done in that regard.



I wish I had answers for you, but this was started as just a desire to write about passionate love-infused sex from a feminine perspective and to test my ability to write as such. However, as I began to write more, I felt more breath and life feeding into the story and building up around the foundation of those two. So, how did this relationship come about? What does Xan do and why is he away for so long? Why does he only come by for brief moments? Perhaps I'll write about that and give you those answers some day.



I certainly agree, let's see how many cookies you win. This is my favorite part, being corrected.



Thank you for taking the time to read through it, even if it's not your cup of tea. That makes it even more meaningful. I've taken your corrections seriously and implemented them in more appropriate ways in the actual text, since the rules encourage it.

It's not a matter of being uncomfortable. I didn't find this site by looking for a cool place to post stories, I can tell you that. I just don't like erotic fiction. Besides, I, like any other reasonable person, glanced over the post first. I read the afterward before the story and took notice of the new addition to your sig, the +18 in particular.



Something like this: "I looked towards him with bated breath as he sat with me, my eyes half open and my mind spinning, either from lack of oxygen or overflowing arousal."

Not a big difference. It is a nice sentence other than "whether or."



My issue with it is she would not need something to anchor her bite in if she takes no bite to begin with. So to bite to lip to anchor the bite is a paradox of sorts.



Indeed. The comparison is implicit in the "er."

I forgot to ask, but is there any special reason for the title? I guess it's based off Pangaea, but why?

I'm beginning to see what you mean, thanks for the additional explanation.



You guess correctly.

I wanted it to take place in an exotic setting to add a bit of flare and originality, so I was thinking of what I would name such a world, and Pangaea, to me, being the name of a no-longer joined super-continent has interesting connotations behind it. But, I didn't want to just call it Pangaea because that would inappropriately allude to this being some ancient civilization on Earth. I wanted it to be more separate, yet I didn't want to bother creating some random sounding name. The similarities can be understood at a basic glance, that this is a world that is not our own, yet similar enough that you don't have to lap up every description just to know what you're looking at. So, different enough to garner interest.

At least, that's what I was thinking when I named it as such, settling for a phonetic recreation of the originating word. So, it would be the name of the major world and continent they reside on.

If I continue this in a series, it would probably be more story-driven, less sexually explicit. Xan would likely be the focal character and it would tell of his travels from his home town where Roze is, and also about the organizations he is a part of which keeps him far away. The more I think about it, the more things come to mind that help me seriously consider the plausibility of writing such a story. Would that sound interesting at all to you?

Also, you have attained your cookie rank:

Yeah. There's a lot of ways you could take that.

That was pretty good, I felt a bit melancholic near the end actually, it was kind of sad. I kind of already guessed it was a "fantasy" world when I read "scarlet irises", and the note at the end confirmed that I guess. Can't really critique much since I am not very experienced when it comes to writing and especially erotic writing. If I should give some critique, then it would have been nice to have had described how the characters looked a bit more.
I enjoyed it, since it was pretty good IMO(though I don't have much to compare it to).

Well, thank you for reading it and commenting regardless. It's always nice for someone to hear feedback concerning their story, whether positive or constructive. Sorry if it made you feel melancholic, but take satisfaction that they are happy, even if there are surrounding issues. Also, if I write more about this, I will most likely go into more depth as to how exactly they appear, but I mentioned in the A/N that they're not too far off from humans at all, so no worries trying to imagine anything elaborate.

The scarlet irises are what tipped you off? What about the green skin? Or their tails?

*holds tail in hand* I though tails and green skin was normal...

also, I read the thing with the eyes first.

This was too compassionate to actually derive any feeling of lust for me. That's not to say it's bad, it's actually very good. As for me, I love ambiguous things that I have to piece together myself. The fact that this story had plenty of that concerning Roze's and Xan's relationship really made me enjoy it. I always say that the best stories are the ones that don't give you all the answers. It makes you think and stimulates your imagination. Unless you are a realist writer, your imagination is the greatest thing to spark not only for ideas, but also for motivation to keep writing. So, all in all, I quite enjoyed this little lemon. I'd actually rather say this short story with a lemon. To me, it hit all the points that I enjoy in stories and had the bonus of an erotic scene. Though it did not stir any amorous feelings in myself, I believe the lemon scene was the best way to display their love. People always say that sex isn't a priority in a relationship, but I like to disagree from personal experience. I believe it plays a big role, and when it is done correctly, helps solidify the the bond two people have. Good job, Xen.

Ah, thank you very much for reading it, your input means a lot to me. I hope you don't feel bad for not feeling turned on by this, I don't even think it was my intention to write up fap fuel for anyone. I actually wanted to write through it in a manner befitting my style and preference for a relationship bound by the parties' passion and devotion to one-another. However, that doesn't give me any excuses for not being realistic and thorough when it comes to writing the scene altogether. A big issue I was experimenting with was writing from a feminine perspective and I wanted that to be realistic as far as the psychology is concerned beneath her view of their relationship and the emotions she was going through during the whole story. You in particular do a really good job with this as I've seen because your characters for whichever stories you write are filled with emotion making them unique. It's truly a shining example of good literary habits to follow. Again, thank you for taking the time to read. I'll be looking forward to keeping up with A Young Man's Summer and the CYOA.

Haha, how turned on I am after reading it is the least of my concern. Something can be extremely raunchy and still awful if not written well. Quality is always the first thing I look for. Thanks for the compliment on my characters by the way. Haha, if you want to cover all the female types, you can also read my other story. Nightly Crusade focuses on a tomboyish woman that is absent in A Young Man's Summer. If it's one thing I've learned, learning the many personalities of a different gender is the best way to understand how to write in their perspective. I have many friends that are women as well as a girlfriend and I love listening to their stories. I know it sounds very un-masculine since most guys hate girl talk, but it's how I've learned to write them realistically.

The social construct of masculinity is only that, a construct. Be whoever you need to in order to be the most comfortable and unique to who you are. I also find people's unique stories incredibly interesting, so I know where you're coming from.

If I may be permitted to quote George R. R. Martin, he was asked in an interview about how he manages to write women so believably well. His response:



I take a great lesson from this, that it may require some additional effort in order to wrap our minds around the way the opposite gender functions, we also have to remember that they are not a separate species. They think and feel things much the same way we do, so sometimes we just need to remind ourselves of the capability of our humanity as a whole. That's what I think, anyway.

Just gave your submission a read Xenon considering you read the first Chapter of my newest series, thought I should return the favour.

Usually I'm not overly attracted to anything Hetero (just not my thing obviously) but my God that was truly beautiful. Not going to lie that I shed a tear or two over the beauty that was the relationship between Roze and Xan. I love nice, romantic love stories more than anything but what I love more than even that: is a love story that shows that the characters are more than conscious of the imperfect nature that surrounds their relationship, but love each-other just as much (If not more) because of that. Plus the little part at the end with the implied pregnancy...brilliant. Nothing better than a touching moment like that. Very well done Xenon.

You flatter me. Thank you for taking the time to read it. Considering your preference, I'm happy the emotions I poured into it still had an affect on you. I'm actually really happy to receive your thoughts, because you are female and it helps to have that kind of feedback when writing from the perspective of a woman. It's not overly difficult to do, but being a man, I do want to make sure it's realistic, so thank you for giving it a read.

With that said, I see that you've uploaded chapter 2 to your series, so I'll have to give it a read very soon.

just posting in to let you know i've dropped by and read some bits of it.

maybe I couldn't understand this kind of writing because of reasons similar to leonard. still, I can appreciate the efforts put into this story, kudos for ya :D

Thank you for dropping by to read what you did.

Actually, I'm surprised you had trouble understanding this, because I took a lesson directly from Scenery of Tranquil Places and have been using that to enhance my writing.

Leonard hasn't yet commented, so I can only assume he hasn't yet read it. So, not sure if he'll understand it or not.

Honestly, the confusion there still causes me to wonder. It's not as if the story is advanced or has some underlying complex conspiracy or advanced philosophy. It doesn't even use advanced or unheard of vocabulary. It's just a love story with a beginning, middle, and end, told with as much physical and emotional description I could muster.

The only reason I could see why one would be confused is if...they simply didn't read it. You did say that you only read bits of it, perhaps the bits are too small to gain proper understanding? You don't have to lie or pretend to get on my good side, if that's the case. If it's not, then sorry for assuming, but I appreciate genuine honesty more than flattery. Just thought I'd let you know.

well to clear up the misunderstanding. i simply read things by skimming it generally. maybe there's something in it that doesn't interest me that much, because I'm not in the right state of mind. if I try to give in some effort on reading I could somehow understand it. I guess it's more about me not reading all that much because i'm quite picky.

maybe it stems from my interests on mainly reading the articles or stuff based on the thing that caught my fancy, so I mostly go to the sentences or thing that presents the most exciting thing 'bout the written stuff before going on the details.

to me, it's well-written, so you don't have to worry 'bout it.

maybe one thing that could garner my interest was the minor addition of the synopsis, on what's going on in general. so I could get the bits of understanding 'bout the story. but that's just me being lazy to gather on the hints. sorry 'bout that since you seem to be giving your best on it. (edit: well I guess you included that in the end, that helps)

well I think in one way or another, Scenery of Tranquil Places is just some compilation of nonsensical monologues, but I guess you can took one thing from it. I learned things from reading the writings here too :D

I'll give this a read one more time later, even if I'm not that diligent usually on reading.

I totally understand that position. I appreciate you being honest about what's going on when you read it because I have to consider everyone's opinions, not just those who will read and understand every word. It helps become more effective in my writing, which is better than praise after all.

I wish I could have provided you with an outline of what was going on, but I don't have much of an answer for you. I don't even yet know what's going on in the background of this world, though I'm thinking things up the more I focus on it. So, no worries since there simply are no hints to pick up about a story that isn't there just yet, beyond a general outline.

Scenery of Tranquil Places maybe a compilation of nonsensical monologues, but it was passionate and had detail and heart. That is why I enjoyed it so much.

Only read it again if you desire to. If you do, I will look forward to your thoughts, but if not then no worries.

Thanks, high.