Scribble: Battle no more, ye weary traveler.

      Worn, weary, her armor dented and broken, she stood, gazing out over the golden fields before her. Her auburn hair dancing in the breeze, the knight pulled the tatters of her cloak ever tighter, unwilling, or far too afraid, to release her grip on the chipped, streaked blade clenched in her hand. Above her head, wooden branches, yet to be barren of their leaves, creaked with the wind's gentle footsteps, as unseen birds escaped to safer homes.
      In the distance, clouds began to part, as the golden fields shimmered in the coming light. Far off in the distance, the barking of farming dogs ushered-in the new day, heralds to the sounds of sickles and scythes soon to come.
      A single tear rolled down her scarred and sun-kissed cheek. Home, she thought, a weak smile slipping onto her face.
      The battered sword fell to the ground, a sharp metal clang drowned-out by the new day's birth...

Scribble: 'Tis the season.

      Little crystals of white drift through the endless night sky, floating atop the chill currents of winter. Somewhere in the distance, a flash of color bursts into the air, fine lines of light fading into the clouds and snow. Explosions ring out, forever out of place with the sparkling, still ground, so wrapped up in its cold blanket.
      And yet, in that single moment, that same sparkle slips into her eyes, and shines from the brightness of her smile. The fireworks fade, trails of smoke swallowed by the clouds in the sky, but without so much as a sound, the night is made alight once more, as a laugh slips away from her lips to dance between flakes of white. A single gasp, a meeting of lips, and soon, not even the brightest of lights can match the quiet moment on the ground below.
      And somewhere, dreams of blankets to rival even the vast sheet of winter float within hearts, little bursts of light that never fade.