| A Waffle Paradise |
Circulation: 197,891,060 |
Issue: 1051 | 13th day of Awakening, Y28 |
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Continued Series
 | In the MarginsCleo sat on the edge of the raised "porch" of Kahlfu's cottage, watching as the necromancer set up a circle of candles in the dying light of twilight.
by shinkoryu14 |  | The Heist at the Chocolate Factory.The dust of the Royal Purple Asteroid drifted through the ruined silo like living smoke, glowing faintly as it clung to every crack in the broken stone. Collab with rascle90 & kikepv
by sebaspet717 |  | The Year Without an Advent CalendarTogether, the girls made the journey back to Neopia Central, first taking the submarine back to the surface, then the ferry back to Meridell, and finally opting to hop on a bus for the remainder of the journey.
by noileh |  | The End of NeopiaLarry's eyes scanned the dark Haunted Woods for the source of the voice. The light of the haunting moon cast the world in stark contrast. Nothing stirred save the gently blowing leaves scraping across the rough dirt path.
by tcg81191 |  | The Dream Quest: EternitySolanza led Xantan down one of the less-travelled roads to the heart of Neopia Central. The Lupe walked steadily by her side, his yellow eyes taking in everything around him, from the colorful flowers in the windowsills to the Neopians passing by.
by ellienib |
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"A Bouquet of Sunflowers" by likelife96
The life of a squire was often too busy for Valentine's Day, but this year, there was nothing to do. Jeran's master was out on an errand; Hope River was boringly idyllic; and his friends were all dedicated to their loves, even Danner, who had managed by some strange faerie curse to find himself a Valentine.
Before heading out to his little date, Danner gave him a bouquet of sunflowers. "Here," he said, "I patched this up from my admirers. Figured you'd need help to put it to good use."
Jeran scoffed, wished him well, and went back to practising his combat forms. The bouquet lay on the wooden bench, the gynoecia of the sunflowers pointed straight at him like insectoid eyes until at last he became tired of his bee-like audience of one.
He resolved to rid himself of it. Valentine's Day couldn't have been that difficult, especially as an out-of-towner. He simply needed to find someone alone, hand them the flowers, and mysteriously walk off into the sunset with a wish for a happy holiday.
Even so, those he would have deemed prospective candidates--a scrambling, forgetful spouse, an entrepreneurial child selling wildflowers, a lone elderly widower, and other filter-feeding creatures of Valentine's Day--simply did not exist on this chilly afternoon. Everyone was either paired up or in with a group of their friends.
It was not until he traversed a wooden bridge past a small distributary that he found a candidate. The bridge was an inlet into the western part of the town, oft-traversed because it was the location of the town's smiths. The forges were already dark, and there was none of that familiar hammering or breathing.
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