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picowrimo2014-11-21 10:01 pm
elmey.livejournal.com) wrote in picowrimo2014-11-21 10:01 pm
Pico Day 22
Here's today's post for your snippets, comments, thoughts.
I've been writing a little almost every day, mostly exchange fics, but also a few other WIPs -- here's a snippet from one of them, an Earthsea fanfic.
**
At first, there was only the noise, a rustling, dragging sound of steady movement through heavy grass. Then, as the sun rose, silhouttes became visible on top of the hill, low dark shapes against the pink of early dawn, stalwartly working their way downwards and closer.
Thol's daughter, still not old enough to wear the feyag but tall and stately for her age, pulled her shawl tighter about her shoulders as she watched the slow descent of the creatures. Here in the mountains, the cold lingered longer, and she was outside the sacred fire's reach, although the smell of burning fat was impossible to escape. The smoke rose lazily from the fire, rising grey towards the sky in majestic clouds.
No one on Hur-at-Hur, from the lowliest peasant to the greatest warrior, could ignore that great column of fire, which surely must be visible all over the island. But most people had come to take part in the spring festival. The valley was crowded with tents, the masses gathered below the Place of the Sacrifice to catch a glimpse of the rites, and the princess thought with some pride that most of these people would never get close enough to see the dragons with their own eyes.
"Seserakh," her mother said next to her, voice low. The princess could not see her face under the heavy veil, but she recognised the tone. She must have made a face of some sort, she thought as she straightened further, or otherwise she must have failed to look as solemn as befitted the occasion. It was no child's play, nor was she a child any longer. Next year by this time, she would be wearing the feyag. Already there had been suitors to speak with her father. Her mother and her aunts had told her the moon's curse might set in soon. Seserakh looked at the bowls of blood surrounding the sacred fire, and barely managed to suppress a grimace.
**
I need to reread the book this is based on (The Other Wind) to be certain I remember the info we get about Seserakh's background correctly, but this is the gist of it...
**
At first, there was only the noise, a rustling, dragging sound of steady movement through heavy grass. Then, as the sun rose, silhouttes became visible on top of the hill, low dark shapes against the pink of early dawn, stalwartly working their way downwards and closer.
Thol's daughter, still not old enough to wear the feyag but tall and stately for her age, pulled her shawl tighter about her shoulders as she watched the slow descent of the creatures. Here in the mountains, the cold lingered longer, and she was outside the sacred fire's reach, although the smell of burning fat was impossible to escape. The smoke rose lazily from the fire, rising grey towards the sky in majestic clouds.
No one on Hur-at-Hur, from the lowliest peasant to the greatest warrior, could ignore that great column of fire, which surely must be visible all over the island. But most people had come to take part in the spring festival. The valley was crowded with tents, the masses gathered below the Place of the Sacrifice to catch a glimpse of the rites, and the princess thought with some pride that most of these people would never get close enough to see the dragons with their own eyes.
"Seserakh," her mother said next to her, voice low. The princess could not see her face under the heavy veil, but she recognised the tone. She must have made a face of some sort, she thought as she straightened further, or otherwise she must have failed to look as solemn as befitted the occasion. It was no child's play, nor was she a child any longer. Next year by this time, she would be wearing the feyag. Already there had been suitors to speak with her father. Her mother and her aunts had told her the moon's curse might set in soon. Seserakh looked at the bowls of blood surrounding the sacred fire, and barely managed to suppress a grimace.
**
I need to reread the book this is based on (The Other Wind) to be certain I remember the info we get about Seserakh's background correctly, but this is the gist of it...
Just finished one of the scenes that've been in my head for a few days. Am hoping to get at least two more written out this evening. This is the beginning of the scene that follows directly after Scryloc leaves Cerrig.
***
Melyd was on the bottom step when Scryloc rounded the corner of the mound. Behind her a high voice could be heard reciting numbers as it came closer.
“Oh.” Melyd paused on the stair. “Up early or not slept yet?” She took a careful inventory of Scryloc’s face, eye to eye because of the height of the step. She checked her hand as it lifted slightly at the sight of the dishevelled curls. Her fingers twitched as the hand fell back in place by her side.
The counting voice continued, the counter still hidden by the bend in the stairs.
“What do you need?” he asked, body angling as though to slip past her on the steps. They were both slim. He could do it without even touching her.
“Nothing. There were honey cakes this morning and when we didn’t see you there, we brought you some.” She glanced up. “The door was locked. We left them on the landing. Honey, too.”
“In the midst of a delicate investigation. Nothing must be moved,” he explained, although he needn’t have.
“The new thing?” Melyd asked quietly.
“Yes,” he replied and smiled.
A child came into view with a resounding nine. “Tas!” she cried when she saw Scryloc. She came down another step. “Ten,” she announced. She lifted up her arms and bounded off the stairs. Scryloc was quick enough to catch her.
“Fearless Seren,” he said.
***
Melyd was on the bottom step when Scryloc rounded the corner of the mound. Behind her a high voice could be heard reciting numbers as it came closer.
“Oh.” Melyd paused on the stair. “Up early or not slept yet?” She took a careful inventory of Scryloc’s face, eye to eye because of the height of the step. She checked her hand as it lifted slightly at the sight of the dishevelled curls. Her fingers twitched as the hand fell back in place by her side.
The counting voice continued, the counter still hidden by the bend in the stairs.
“What do you need?” he asked, body angling as though to slip past her on the steps. They were both slim. He could do it without even touching her.
“Nothing. There were honey cakes this morning and when we didn’t see you there, we brought you some.” She glanced up. “The door was locked. We left them on the landing. Honey, too.”
“In the midst of a delicate investigation. Nothing must be moved,” he explained, although he needn’t have.
“The new thing?” Melyd asked quietly.
“Yes,” he replied and smiled.
A child came into view with a resounding nine. “Tas!” she cried when she saw Scryloc. She came down another step. “Ten,” she announced. She lifted up her arms and bounded off the stairs. Scryloc was quick enough to catch her.
“Fearless Seren,” he said.
Thank you!
It's one boy in particular - though as I haven't actually written that bit yet he may show up in a future snippet!
It's one boy in particular - though as I haven't actually written that bit yet he may show up in a future snippet!
Oh dear! No, Phyl isn't particularly impressed by them, either!
11 hours sounds like bliss! Hope you're feeling better for it!
I'm loving the intrigue here.
I'm loving the intrigue here.
Megalodon sounds so bad it's good. It sounds like you deserve a night off!
(And hmm, pear cake. We have some pears!)
(And hmm, pear cake. We have some pears!)
That sounds familiar! Hope you recover soon, and good luck for the next bits.
Lovely description here - really atmospheric.
That's a sweet little encounter. Good luck with your other planned scenes!
Want the recipe? Easiest thing in the world.
Sounds like a good plan to split it up and a good night's rest helps everything.
I had a nicely productive write-in this morning and clocked up 1370 words! Gosh!
This snippet is after Catherine has had a bit of a reaction to the "solo dev plan" memory.
“What did you learn?” Franz asked.
Mel turned to face him. Catherine treated him to a glare, unsure whether to be more angry at his lack of concern for her or his interference in their private business.
“Why don't you go and reset the controls, Franz,” Mel said calmly, “or whatever it is you need to do. Leave Catherine's debrief to me.”
Franz swallowed, nodded and returned to to control room. Mel turned back to Catherine.
“I'm sorry, love, but Franz is sort of right. We don't have time to waste. Was there anything I need to make a note of? And will you be okay with another session?”
Catherine thought back over the memories. This wasn't a normal debrief; the time constraint meant she had to summarize and make judgements.
“There's some Denebian technology in the system...” Catherine shook her head. Judgements for Mel's perspective, she reminded herself. “Sorry. That was the first discussion. It showed they'd been reading each other's engrams and begun to get worried about what they were thinking. I can't tell whether that was related to the severe paranoia Arlan was developing. The second recording was too laden with... distrust, anger... her thought patterns were inconsistent, almost like she was suffering multiple personalities. It was a bit of a shock, that's all. I'll be okay if I stick to the earlier ones when they were all still largely sane.”
Mel nodded. “Okay.” She squeezed Catherine's hand then stood and returned to the control room.
This snippet is after Catherine has had a bit of a reaction to the "solo dev plan" memory.
“What did you learn?” Franz asked.
Mel turned to face him. Catherine treated him to a glare, unsure whether to be more angry at his lack of concern for her or his interference in their private business.
“Why don't you go and reset the controls, Franz,” Mel said calmly, “or whatever it is you need to do. Leave Catherine's debrief to me.”
Franz swallowed, nodded and returned to to control room. Mel turned back to Catherine.
“I'm sorry, love, but Franz is sort of right. We don't have time to waste. Was there anything I need to make a note of? And will you be okay with another session?”
Catherine thought back over the memories. This wasn't a normal debrief; the time constraint meant she had to summarize and make judgements.
“There's some Denebian technology in the system...” Catherine shook her head. Judgements for Mel's perspective, she reminded herself. “Sorry. That was the first discussion. It showed they'd been reading each other's engrams and begun to get worried about what they were thinking. I can't tell whether that was related to the severe paranoia Arlan was developing. The second recording was too laden with... distrust, anger... her thought patterns were inconsistent, almost like she was suffering multiple personalities. It was a bit of a shock, that's all. I'll be okay if I stick to the earlier ones when they were all still largely sane.”
Mel nodded. “Okay.” She squeezed Catherine's hand then stood and returned to the control room.
Sleep is definitely good, and it's clearly had a positive effect on your word count! A nice snippet with some great intrigue.
Provking us, period.
Apart from the typo, I'm not sure about the word "period" here - to me it feels very current-day-American and out of keeping with the setting (though not knowing the fandom it may be a perfectly acceptable anachronism).
Provking us, period.
Apart from the typo, I'm not sure about the word "period" here - to me it feels very current-day-American and out of keeping with the setting (though not knowing the fandom it may be a perfectly acceptable anachronism).
Brava for getting any number of words down after an exhausting week.
Poor Phyl, trying to cover up distress while doing something as expressive as singing would be extremely difficult. Small wonder she sounded robotic.
Poor Phyl, trying to cover up distress while doing something as expressive as singing would be extremely difficult. Small wonder she sounded robotic.
Ah, the power of sleep!
Attolia's not one to be goaded into dangerous behaviour by unctuous diplomats. I liked the visual of the poodle biting the boot. No doubt the dropped tea startled him, but if he could have understood the contents of the letter, I think he would have done something similar without the shattering cup. It was a poisonous letter after all.
Attolia's not one to be goaded into dangerous behaviour by unctuous diplomats. I liked the visual of the poodle biting the boot. No doubt the dropped tea startled him, but if he could have understood the contents of the letter, I think he would have done something similar without the shattering cup. It was a poisonous letter after all.
A fire is such a relaxing reward for a challenging day (and facing boring tasks is a big challenge).
Applause for wrestling all the cleaning chores into submission and the pear cake sounds delicious.
I usually find visuals inspiring. Do you have any tucked away that might work for the other drabbles? Twenty more is a lot though.
I usually find visuals inspiring. Do you have any tucked away that might work for the other drabbles? Twenty more is a lot though.
Good luck with the wedging in of the information.
Brava for writing nearly every day!
It's been ages since I've read any Earthsea stories. You've packed a great deal of information very poetically into a few paragraphs.
It's been ages since I've read any Earthsea stories. You've packed a great deal of information very poetically into a few paragraphs.
Thank you! I only got one other started. *sigh* High hopes for tomorrow, then.
Great progress!
Catherine's headed into dangerous territory.
Catherine's headed into dangerous territory.
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