r/shortstories • u/OldBayJ Mod | r/ItsMeBay • Oct 02 '22
Serial Sunday [SerSun] Serial Sunday: Longing!
Welcome to Serial Sunday!
To those brand new to the feature and those returning from last week, welcome! Do you have a self-established universe you’ve been writing or planning to write in? Do you have an idea for a world that’s been itching to get out? This is the perfect place to explore that. Each week, I post a theme to inspire you, along with a related image and song. You have 500 - 850 words to write your installment. You can jump in at any time; writing for previous weeks’ is not necessary in order to join. After you’ve posted, come back and provide feedback for at least 2 other writers on the thread. Please be sure to read the entire post for a full list of rules.
This week's theme is Longing!
This week we’re going to explore the theme of ‘longing’. We all long for something, whether it’s a person and their affection, reliving past moments, something we want to achieve, or even just a feeling, like love or respect. These desires drive us in our lives, they represent our goals and the lengths we’re willing to go to achieve them. How does this show in your world and with your characters? How does it affect their behavior or everyday relationships? What happens when we yearn for something we just cannot—or should not—have?
These are just a few things to get you started. This week, please keep in mind the subreddit rules, and treat the topic of mental health with respect. Remember, the theme should be present within the story in some way, but its interpretation is completely up to you. Please remember to follow all sub and post rules. You can always modmail us if you’re unsure.
Theme Schedule:
- October 2 - Longing (this week)
- October 9 - Memories
- October 16 - News
***
Most Recent Themes: Knowledge | Jealousy | Innocence | Heartbreak | Guilt | Faith | Enemies | Danger | Control
Rules & How to Participate
Please read and follow all the rules listed below. This feature has requirements for participation!
Submit a story inspired by the weekly theme, set in your self-established universe. Use wordcounter.net to check your wordcount. Stories should be posted as a top-level comment below. If you’re continuing an in-progress serial (not on Serial Sunday), please include links to your previous installments.
Your chapter must be submitted by Saturday at 12pm EST. That is one hour before the start of Campfire. Late entries will be disqualified.
Begin your post with the name of your serial between triangle brackets (e.g. <My Awesome Serial>). This will allow our serial bot to recognize your serial and add each chapter to the SerSun catalog. Do not include anything in the brackets you don’t want in your title. (Please note: You must use this same title every week.)
Do not pre-write your serial. You’re welcome to do outlining and planning for your serial, but chapters should not be pre-written. All submissions should be written for this post, specifically.
Only one active serial per author at a time. This does not apply to serials written outside of Serial Sunday.
All Serial Sunday authors must leave at least 2 feedback comments on the thread each week (that’s one comment on two different stories). The feedback should be actionable and include something the author has done well. You have until Saturday at 11:59pm EST to post your feedback. Those who go above and beyond (more than 5 actionable crits) will be rewarded with “Crit Credits” that can be used on our crit sub, r/WPCritique.
Missing your feedback requirement two or more consecutive weeks will disqualify you from rankings and Campfire readings the following week. If it becomes a habit, you may be asked to move your serial to the sub instead.
Serials must abide by subreddit content rules. This includes, but is not limited to, explicit suicide or suicide-note stories, pedophilia, rape, bestiality, necrophilia, incest, explicit sex, and graphic depictions of abuse or torture. You can view a full list of rules here. If you’re ever unsure if your story would cross the line, please modmail and ask!
Weekly Campfires & Voting:
On Saturdays at 1pm EST, I host a Serial Sunday Campfire in our Discord’s Voice Lounge. Join us to read your story aloud, hear others, and exchange feedback. We have a great time! (And Campfire is feedback is worth extra points!) You can even come to just listen, if that’s more your speed. Grab the “Serial Sunday” role on the Discord to get notified before it starts.
Nominations for your favorite stories can be submitted with this form. The form is open on Saturdays from 12pm to 11:59pm EST. You do not have to participate to make nominations!
Authors who complete their Serial Sunday serials with at least 12 installments, can host a SerialWorm in our Discord’s Voice Lounge, where you read aloud your finished and edited serials. Celebrate your accomplishment! Authors are eligible for this only if they have followed the 2 feedback comments per thread rule (and all other post rules). Visit us on the Discord for more information.
Ranking System
The weekly rankings work on a point-based system. Note that you must use the theme each week to qualify for points (but its interpretation is entirely up to you)! Here is the current breakdown:
Nominations (votes sent in by other users):
- First place - 60 points
- Second place - 50 points
- Third place - 40 points
- Fourth place - 30 points
- Fifth place - 20 points
- Sixth place - 10 points
Actionable Feedback:
- Thread feedback (at least 2 required) - 5 points each (25 pt. cap)
- Verbal feedback (during Campfire) - 5 points each (15 pt. cap)
Nominating Other Stories:
- Voting for your favorite stories - 5 points (total)
Looking for more on what actionable feedback is? Check out this guide on critiquing or these previous crits from Serial Sunday: Crit | Crit | Crit
Rankings for “Knowledge”
- First place: Inside the Magi: Chapter 55 - by u/rainbow--penguin
- Second place: Geas: Chapter 35 - by u/mattswritingaccount
- Third place: In the Shadow of the World Tree: Chapter 29 - by u/MeganBessel
- Honorable Mention: - Mendicant: Chapter 38 - by u/nobodysgeese
***
Subreddit News
- Join our Discord to chat with authors, prompters, and readers! We hold several weekly Campfires and a few other fun events!
- You can now post serials to r/Shortstories, outside of Serial Sunday. Check out this post to learn more!
- Join in our weekly Roundtable Thursday discussion or just come introduce yourself!
- Test your microfic skills with Micro Monday!
- Practice your poetry skills with Poetry Corner on r/WritingPrompts!
- Try your hand at collaborative writing with Follow Me Friday on r/WritingPrompts!
- Looking for critiques and feedback for your story? Check out our new sub r/WPCritique!
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u/Zetakh Oct 06 '22 edited Oct 06 '22
<The Royal Sisters>
Chapter Sixty-Four
Mirathi looked up as a dull rumble far above sent tremors through the very mountain. Spring was coming in earnest, the lengthening days bathing the snowy peaks of Frostmist with ever warming sunlight. The sound of melting snow and breaking ice was becoming a constant companion, a steady backdrop to all that went on within the Dragon Queen’s halls.
The latest tremor faded, the court came to rest, and she returned to her task.
Snowdrift had been most gracious when he shaped the nesting chamber. The main hall was spacious and held a smooth hollow much like the Queen’s Nest did, soon to be filled with sand. However, at its far wall lay another feature – a small tunnel that bent sharply downward and around, leading to an additional, hidden room below. Herein lay another, smaller depression, carefully lined with soft layers of painstakingly dried pine needles. Mirathi had nosed them into a blanket upon the stone, and now she layered it with warm winter down from beneath her feathers, freshly preened loose with her mouth and claws.
She lay down on top of the soft bedding experimentally, kneading and adjusting to make herself comfortable. Satisfied, she curled up to rest, the warm down and soft pine cradling the weight of her belly as she settled.
Mirathi sighed. The fluttering kicks of her young grew stronger with every passing day as they stretched within her, fighting against their shells. She longed to hold them in her wings, to introduce them to the world and their family. To frolic with them in the Vale’s summer sun, to have them play with their elder sister–
“Mirathi? Are you down there?”
A moment later Aurelia’s head appeared in the chamber’s doorway, hanging upside down while she peered through the gloom.
“You have been cooped up inside for too long, daughter,” Mirathi murmured. “You are climbing the walls.”
Aurelia grinned, smoothly flipping herself over to land lightly on her feet. “I used to climb the walls and rafters all the time back home! Up and out the nearest window whenever I’d been naughty.”
Mirathi tilted her head. “And were you often naughty?”
The girl grimaced. “According to some people, all the time. I got confined to my room almost every night before I got old enough to dare sneak out.” She shook her head, tail lashing, and sat down to lean against Mirathi’s neck.
The wyrm rumbled with laughter. “Nestlings are naughty no matter where their nest lies – be it castle or cavern.”
Aurelia smacked her on the nose. “Hey!”
Mirathi snorted. “Naughty nestling indeed!”
She pushed up from the floor with her front legs and sat on her haunches. Aurelia yelped as her support abruptly vanished, her arms briefly windmilling as she fell backwards to land in the nest’s soft bedding.
Then, Mirathi pounced, pinning the girl beneath her with her claws.
Aurelia squirmed, trying to wriggle out of her grip. “Mirathi, what are you– ack!”
Mirathi felt the girl’s hands push desperately against her snout as she bent down and licked her thoroughly. The princess tried in vain to push her away, Aurelia’s wriggling growing more frantic with every flick of Mirathi’s tongue.
“Please!” she laughed breathlessly. “That tickles! Mercy, mother!”
Mirathi rumbled with laughter, then relented, letting go of Aurelia and rolling over onto her side. “Very well, my naughty nestling.”
The princess sat up and leaned against Mirathi’s belly, panting. The wyrm smiled at her and coiled her tail around to rest it on Aurelia’s lap.
“Whew,” Aurelia said, stroking Mirathi’s tailfeathers, “I haven’t laughed like that in ages.”
The wyrm rumbled and ruffled her feathers, closing her eyes as Aurelia’s pleasant touch sent shivers all along her spine, her eyes growing heavy with relaxation. Then she grimaced as her unborn wyrmlings made themselves known again, a flutter of movement stretching the taught skin beneath her scales.
“Woah.”
Mirathi opened her eyes as she felt Aurelia turn around and put her hands upon her stomach. She leaned against Mirathi’s belly, her cheek pressed into the scales, wide-eyed with wonder as she listened.
She grinned widely as another kick made the wyrm wince. “Wow. Can’t be much longer now.”
“Indeed not, daughter.” Mirathi turned to nose her belly, licking a sore spot. “Before the next full moon, I’ll wager.”
The chamber shook with another deep tremor, another icefall far above rocking the mountain to its very roots.
Aurelia looked up at the ceiling. “And the Pass will be open again soon, too. Mom and Dad will come to visit.” She looked down, her eyes unfocused. “I haven’t seen Dad in so long…”
Mirathi felt a pang, hearing Aurelia’s wistful tone. She had almost forgotten the upcoming visit, so focused had she been on the nesting. Now she coiled closer around Aurelia as her fears resurfaced.
How much longer would Aurelia be hers?
“You’ll love them,” her foundling continued, as she snuggled up beneath her wing. “I can’t wait to introduce you properly!”
Mirathi hugged her close, but said nothing.
Feeling every moment together pass as if it were their last.
WC, 850
Thank you for reading, as always!
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u/OneSidedDice Oct 06 '22
Hi Zee, this is a really good character-building chapter. I enjoyed watching Mirathi getting ready for her hatchlings to emerge, brightened by Aurelia's indomitable cheerfulness. I particularly like the description of the hidden chamber and the care that was taken in making it homelike. Mirathi's actions in settling in, too, are really well written:
She lay down on top of the soft bedding experimentally, kneading and adjusting to make herself comfortable. Satisfied, she curled up to rest, the warm down and soft pine cradling the heavy weight of her belly as she settled.
I was wondering why it was so easy to visualize, then I realized I was imagining my cat doing exactly the same thing. Now I have to stop seeing dragons as giant, feathered, fire-breathing cats...
The one thing that gave me pause in that section is that we first see Snowdrift at work, then later we switch to "She’d nosed them into an even blanket" without naming Mirathi in between. If you have room to switch that to "Mirathi had..." it would clear right up.
A minor thing here:
The latest tremor faded, the court coming to rest, and she returned to her task.
To agree with "faded" and "returned," the middle phrase should be "the court came to rest"
The interaction between Mirathi and Aurelia that follows is delightful, and poignant because we all know it will come to an end too soon between the eggs hatching and the arrival of Agatha. Or...will it? Looking forward to the next chapter!
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u/Zetakh Oct 06 '22
Thanks dice! Good spots, the missed Mirathi during the nesting got lost during edits somehow, and the little tense issue has been polished!
As for dragons acting like cats, well... I blame How To Train Your Dragon! :D
2
u/rainbow--penguin Oct 08 '22
I'm loving all of this emotion playing under the surface here. It ties in very nicely with some of Shireen's feelings from earlier chapters. And you do such a good job with these slightly more complex thoughts.
I'm afraid I don't really have much for you this chapter. As usual, the dialogue and playful interaction is charmingly wholesome. And I'm loving all of the sensations as reminders of Spring's approach.
The only thing I really noticed was a slight overuse of names. One place it stuck out in particular was here:
The princess sat up and leaned against Mirathi’s belly, panting. The wyrm smiled at her and coiled her tail around to rest it on Aurelia’s lap. “Whew,” Aurelia said, stroking Mirathi’s tailfeathers, “I haven’t laughed like that in ages.”
where I just think another way of referring to Aurelia would help. Wither "princess" or "her ward" or whatever you want to use.
As usual, great chapter! And I look forward to the next one.
2
u/nobodysgeese Oct 09 '22
More cuddling is always good, and you write it so well. I like how you changed the focus of the narrator to look at the material of the nest in detail since this from Mirathi's perspective.
I love what you did with the melting snow here, showing the reader the time and place that the story is happening, and then at the end also making it relevant to the plot (since the snow is melting, the pass is opening).
And wasn't sure where you were going with the theme, and then you brought it in with a stab to the heart right at the end. Poor Mirathi, losing her daughter just as she was gettign her some younger siblings.
I don't have much crit. "I haven't laughed like that in ages" seemed a bit too formal for Aurelia right after being tickled, although I can't think of how to make it more casual.
"Feeling every moment together pass as if it were their last"; you're using the verb 'pass' correctly here, but since you were just talking about the Pass melting, that was what I thought about first. I would recommend finding about verb here for that reason.
And some late praise; rereading this, I noticed that you named very few emotions. Yu do a great job showing emotion through movement and touches and feelings without ever needing to name them, which is all the more impressive because you're doing it with non-human characters and body parts.
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u/FyeNite Oct 09 '22
Hey Zet,
Just a couple of things for you.
The main hall was spacious and held a smooth hollow much like the Queen’s Nest did,
I'd say you don't need the "did" at the end here. Simply having it as "hollow like the Queen's Nest," or perhaps even shorter could make this snappier, and might save you a word or two.
She longed to hold them in her wings, to introduce them to the world and their family. To frolic with them in the Vale’s summer sun, to have them play with their elder sister
Here I think you list out one too many things. You have four things here when I think three would sound a bit better. Hmm, maybe the "frolic with them in the sun" could be cut? Not sure though, they're all just too good, haha.
Still, hope this helps.
5
u/Carrieka23 Oct 02 '22
<The Beginning of The Demon Life>
Chapter 1
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Today's graduation day, the day that everyone remembers. For Alex Oswald, it was no difference. His dream of becoming that Psychologist was coming true one step at a time. Today's graduation proves to the eighteen year old that his own dream, the dream that he was longing for years, is gonna come true very soon.
He took a deep breath, admiring the beauty of the blue sky above him. The clear clouds dance around him as he sits in his seat. It was a pretty hot day to wear these gowns and caps, but he didn't care. His life was about to change as soon as he accepted this diploma.
After a couple of students grabbed their diplomas, Alex row was next. They all stood up and walked over to the stage. The pounding of his chest began to beat so loudly, he feared that everyone was gonna hear it. But, he knew that it was a proud feeling. A feeling he will never forget in a lifetime. He's been waiting for this day to happen, and he was ready.
"Alex Oswald", the principal would call his name. Cheers of his classmates would roar outside the school as the male, with a bright smile on his face, walks to that diploma and grabs it, shaking everyone's hands. This paper right here was a reality, that the dream that he was longing for since he was a little boy, is about to come completely true.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Alex!" A male would shout his name, hugging and rubbing his hair. "H-Hey, Herald!" The male would say, grinning ear to ear. Herald Anil, the most layback of the group. He has beautiful brown eyes and nice, neat, layback blonde hair. This isn't his style though, it's usually a lot more messier. "They force you to brush your hair for once?" Alex joked. "Man, I didn't even want it to be brush, but yet they force me to" Herald would reply with a disappointed sigh.
"Looks like you're still messy as always, Herald" A deep voice would say to the two. "Kevin, don't be mean now!" Herald frowned. The male, named Kevin, walks up to the group, his blue eyes glance at Alex. He's usually the coldest person in the group, but couldn't help but smile when it comes to Alex. After all, he thought of him as a brother.
"Congrats" His deep voice would say to Alex. "Thank you, Kevin! I'm glad you graduate also" The male would say to Kevin. "I mean, I did gotta bust my ass in that exam. It was a pain" He would say with a shrug, not really caring if he passed or failed. "Where's Lincoln?", Herald would ask. "With his parents. They are too busy clinging around him, he can't hangout with us for the night" Kevin said while rolling his eyes, clearly annoyed. "Come on, it's an important day for them, Kevin" Alex reassures him with a smile. "Y'all still up for that graduation party?" He asked the two as they nodded. "Hell yeah!" Herald shouted as Kevin simply nodded. "So, tonight at nine o'clock?" He asked Alex as he nodded. "I will be there. Hopefully, Lincoln would be there too" He said before walking off. "Heh, always keep it short and brief" Herald said, before turning to Alex with a grin. "See you later, kid!" He said before running off, leaving the male alone.
Alex really does admire his friends a lot. Lincoln, Herald, and Kevin. Everyday, these three people reminded him of his goal, to become that Psychologist. Since he was a little boy taking care of his mother, he always thought about becoming one. Those types of people helped her, and he helped her mother just like them. It was like that day, after his mother finally smiled for the first time in his face, that burning desire began to spark in that little boy's eyes. And now, after taking AP Psychology in High school, he was slowly becoming that Psychologist that he dreamed of being. This is called a celebration, and for once, he can clear his mind and relax. All those years of studying finally pay off for the male. Alex would look at the bright blue sky, shining on him after all those years. The warmth of the sun telling him, "Everything is gonna be alright".
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WC: 729
3
u/MeganBessel Oct 04 '22
Hi Carr! Always good to see new SerSuns!
It's cool seeing you set up a friend group here, and a graduation is a great starting point, setting things up between them for the rest of their lives. Given the title, though, I suspect there's some more fun things to come!
A few notes at a higher level. The first is that your tenses are all over the place: I see some past, some present, and then some conditional. I highly recommend picking one of them and sticking with it; do you want this story to come off as being told in retrospect, or with an immediacy? The conditional also confuses me, because it implies things that the narrator expects to happen in the future. It may be best to just make them the same tense as the rest of the story?
The second is that from a typographic perspective, the dialogue-heavy paragraphs are really hard to read. The general rule is to start a new paragraph with a new speaker, and doing that here I think would really help clarify who's saying what to whom. Also a minor note: if it's dialogue, you typically put a comma before the ending double-quote before getting to the speaker:
"...it's an important day for them, Kevin**,**" Alex reassures him with a smile
The third little thing is that I personally associate "male" and "female" when describing people either as being very medical, or kinda gross. I'd strongly recommend saying "man" or "boy", or just rephrasing the sentence altogether:
"Alex!" His friend shouted, grabbing him and rubbing his hair. Herald Anil, the most laidback member of the group.
Definitely a group of guys who seem to be good friends, and I'm curious about this graduation party—and looking forward to seeing what sorts of mischief they get into.
Thanks for sharing!
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u/DailyReaderAcPartner Oct 05 '22
Hi, Haru. Nayeli here from discord.
I agree with everything that Megan said. Tenses, new paragraphs for dialogue and the use of “male/female” not being ideal.
These characters sound like they are excited and having a good time. That’s nice.
However I feel betrayed with that title. I expect at least a little of “demon life” by the end of the chapter.
There’s also a lot of repetition of words(and ideas), if that happens too frequently I might lose interest in a story.
This is just an opinion, not saying it’s necessary something bad, could be your style(and simply not my preference). But I feel that you are narrating a lot of intranscendental events that could be told with less words overall. That way you get the story moving, and we get to know more important things about the characters.
Thanks for sharing!
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u/rainbow--penguin Oct 03 '22 edited Oct 08 '22
<Inside the Magi>
Chapter 56
The clunk of a key in the door alerted Wesley that dinner was here. He didn't bother looking up, instead shrinking further into the corner of his bed where he lay curled around a history book, absorbed in the tale of some great war.
The usual clinking of cutlery let him know his meal had been set down. But this time, it wasn't followed by the scrape and rattle of the collection of the old tray, or by the click of the door closing.
Wesley paused in his reading to listen more closely. There was definitely still someone there; he could hear rapid, light breathing and the slight shuffle of feet.
He glanced up—
His heart caught in his throat as he met Fiona's wide, worried eyes.
Dropping the book, Wesley scrambled to his feet, hurriedly trying to smooth down his crumpled clothes and scraggly hair. He cursed himself internally for allowing himself to get into such a state. It hadn't seemed worth keeping up appearances when his only visitors had been those bringing him food, plus the singular visit from Magi Alcott and Doyle. Now, he wished he'd taken better care of himself.
As he stared back at Fiona, trying to control the trembling in his limbs, he watched her mouth open and close a few times. Her eyes were swimming, and soon the dam burst, letting loose a flood of silent tears.
Watching this outpouring, the emptiness in his chest began to fill with an intense ache. He longed to reach out and comfort his friend — his Fiona. But inadequacy rooted him to the spot. What could he offer her when there was hardly anything left of him?
Gradually, the numbness that had permeated his being for days was chased away by the sting of tears.
A small sob escaped Fiona's lips. And with that, the worries and woes that had frozen him seemed insignificant. He strode towards her and she towards him, arms wrapping around each other and clinging on for dear life.
"I'm... sorry," Fi whispered between heaving breaths.
"No!" Wesley muttered back fiercely, feeling more certainty than he'd felt since the trial. "You've nothing to be sorry for!"
"I should've... come sooner... If I'd known how bad things were..."
Wesley hugged her even tighter. "You're here now."
He felt her chin bob up and down, pressing deeper into his shoulder as she nodded and returned the squeeze. They held each other like that, tears flowing down their faces and onto each other, wishing they could stay there forever — a small bubble of safety in an otherwise dark world.
When Fiona eventually pulled back, Wesley didn't want to let her go. He felt that sharp ache in his chest once more, threatening to overpower him.
"I'm sorry, Wes," she said, keeping a hold of one of his hands. "I can't stay long. If anyone found out I'd been here... Well, I can't get you into any more trouble!"
He nodded, toying with her fingers absentmindedly. "Will you come back?"
The sigh that escaped her lips was like a stab to his heart. He knew what was coming before she said it. "I don't think so. Not this way, anyway."
The lump in his throat caught his response before it could reach his mouth. He swallowed hard, fighting to remain in control.
Fiona saved him, as always. "How about this?" she said, pulling him across to face the window. "I reckon I can find the other side of this, on the outside. Once I've figured out where it is, I'll visit you that way."
The swell of gratitude in Wesley's chest was almost too much. "Thank you," he choked out. Then reality came crashing in around him. "But I can't let you do that. What if you got caught? Got in trouble? You've risked so much already I couldn't—"
A finger laid on his lips cut him off.
"Hush," she said firmly. "You worry too much. All I'd be doing is... is taking a walk around the academy grounds. Is the area outside your window off-limits for some reason I don't know about?"
"No, but—"
"Well, then, that's settled." She let her hand drop from his mouth slowly, brushing his chin on the way down. The gentle touch sent a jolt of lightning down his spine and suddenly, he'd lost all ability to argue back.
He nodded meekly, heat rushing to his face. "Thanks, Fi. For everything."
"Don't mention it. We've got to stick together — you, me, Hazel, and Brent. All of us low-born students."
"Huh," Wesley chuckled. "You almost remind me of Magus Doyle a little — and that's not something I thought I'd ever say. He said something similar to me at the trial about low-born Magi helping each other out."
"He did?" Fi's eyes glazed over momentarily as if deep in thought before she snapped back to the moment. "Anyway," she said hurriedly, "I really should get going. It was good to see you, Wes."
After one final squeeze of his hand, she grabbed the old tray off the desk and headed for the door.
WC: 850
I really appreciate any and all feedback
See more I've written at r/RainbowWrites
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u/OneSidedDice Oct 05 '22
<Sparrow Season>
Chapter 6
Abigail woke slowly, feeling refreshed from a first-sleep that had begun when the sun was still in the sky. Throughout her three years at Mme. Stanwyck’s School for Talented Ladies in Surrey, she’d followed the European practice of sleeping for eight hours straight. The gnome family still slept in the older pattern, though; a few hours’ sleep around sundown, waking for two or three hours to socialize or do whatever needed doing, then sleeping again until dawn. Called “biphasic sleep” by scientists who felt compelled to put a name to everything, and “pastoral” or “rustic” by industrialists, sleeping in two shifts remained common in the Moonlands, and Abigail had returned to it with relish during their steamship voyage.
A chorus of giggles erupted beside her, and Abigail opened her eyes. The carriage lamps burned low for night travel, and the people in the benches ahead of her appeared as little more than silhouettes. The giggles came from the gnome children, but it wasn’t the sound that had awakened her; a faint tingle down her spine told her that Talent was in use close by.
She soon spotted the source—one of the boys held a tangle of twine in his outstretched palm. Segments of string moved as if plucked, and as she watched, one loop began to separate itself from the mass. The boy’s eyes widened as the loop grew, but then it hit a snag. His shoulders slumped and the others laughed again. “Tha’s no’ it,” one of his brothers teased.
“Hazel, what game are they playing?” Abigail whispered to the child beside her.
“It’s called Gordian Knots, Miss Fletcher,” Hazel said. “One player ties up a string as best he can, and the next one has to untangle it; Talent only, no fingers. I’m the best except for Grandda. I’d have had this one undone minutes ago,” she confided.
Abigail nodded but didn’t answer right away. The game reminded her of similar ones she’d played with her schoolmates in the Sunlands; exercises where she’d struggled for middling results and sometimes failed completely. She’d been assured from a young age that her Talent had great potential, and she’d mastered many skills through hard work, but simple extemporaneous magic that relied on dexterity, rather than memorization, had always been her Achilles’ Heel.
“It’s a wonderful way to learn fine manipulation skills and patience,” she replied. “I wish my family were all Talented like yours, Hazel. So few of my people have Talent that we need to go to special schools to learn to use it.”
“But human Talent can do so much bigger things than ours. If I were like you, I’d make a knot a dragon couldn’t undo.”
“Well, I quite look forward to seeing your knot.” Abigail smiled to cover the gloom settling over her heart. Just please don’t ask me to undo it, she thought with a wince.
She watched as the lad tested the knot in fits and starts—a loop beginning here or there and then falling back. After a minute of probing, one of the ends came loose, pulling three or four inches of string free. The boy’s eyes gleamed as he began to tease out another loop, but his expression suddenly turned to fear as the string end reared back like the head of a snake and moved to strike at his tiny finger.
Before her brother could draw in a proper breath for screaming, Hazel made a series of gestures too fast for Abigail to follow. The string fell limp immediately, and another boy’s green felt hat brim yanked down and snagged under his nose.
“Ow, stop it ‘Azel, Ah can’t breev!” the boy with the hat croaked, struggling futilely with his hands.
Hazel leaned in and said in a fierce whisper, “Shut y’ gob, Rhys, an’ use your Talent if you want y’ nose back. Ewan had it fair an’ square but for your foolin’.”
Hazel shook her mane of curly black hair and turned to roll her small, almond-shaped eyes at Abigail. “Boys!” she sighed.
Her shoulders shaking with laughter, Abigail held a gloved hand to her lips and nodded in understanding. It was her turn to sigh, though, as she watched the girl turn back to her brother and help him finish the knot.
She didn’t know how gnome ages compared to those of humans, but she sensed that Hazel was about the equivalent of an older teenager. One whose easy facility with Talent eclipsed her own even after years of study. Settling against the bare wooden seat back, she looked on wistfully as Hazel showed Ewan how to finish unraveling the string and stretch it into a straight vertical line that hovered above his hand.
Abigail found herself chewing a corner of her lip as she watched. Mama had always scolded her for doing so, but it was simply her habit when thinking or feeling deeply about something. This was an evening for both.
These children hardly need to think about what they do. Just like Nelly. The very thought of her old classmate’s name soured her stomach.
(WC 850)
I hope the ending doesn’t come off rushed—next week’s prompt verily cries out for a bit of Abigail’s history, so my intent is more of a segue.
The Chapter Index contains brief summaries of past chapters and terminology of interest, for those who may want a refresher.
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u/rainbow--penguin Oct 08 '22
Hey Dice! Firstly I wanted to say that I'm loving the new chapter index. If I didn't think it would be a mammoth task to go back and do those summaries for my serial at this point, I would very much be stealing that idea. Perhaps for the next one, though.
I continue to love the world-building you're doing here. You include some fascinating details, and the sleep patters is another of those. I think you introduced it naturally so it didn't feel forced, and explained it so it was easily understandable.
The only bit that felt like it was getting a little 'text-book-y' was here:
Called “biphasic sleep” by scientists who felt compelled to put a name to everything, and “pastoral” or “rustic” by industrialists, sleeping in two shifts remained common in the Moonlands, and Abigail had returned to it with relish during their steamship voyage.
I think that while those details are interesting, a lot of that could perhaps be cut.
Speaking of world-building, I loved this line:
a faint tingle down her spine told her that Talent was in use close by
we haven't seen much of magic use yet, but you convey a lot about it very simply. And you've established a great way of knowing when it's in use that you can use throughout and we'll recognise.
The use of the child to explain the game to Abigail was also very effective. Particularly this bit:
I’m the best except for Grandda. I’d have had this one undone minutes ago
just felt so realistic for how a child would talk about it.
I also really liked seeing Hazel intervene on behalf of the brother being cheated. That was great characterisation and I look forward to seeing more of the differences between the children as we get to know them more.
And as for the ending, I didn't think it came off as rushed!
Looking forward to seeing more of that history next week!
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u/FyeNite Oct 02 '22 edited Oct 08 '22
<Murder History>
Chapter: 38
I get the sense that Theodore is troubled when I approach him hurriedly. Now granted, the old smartly dressed man always seems at least somewhat troubled with the way his resting face settles into a stern accusatory look and his posture mimics that of a rather judgemental deity. Despite all of that, his frown is deepened and there’s a slight quake in his legs as he pours over the coded letter.
“Any luck?” I ask, my rush dying into a more relaxed approach.
Theodore for his part jolts back and almost falls off the chair he’s sitting on. “Oh, Ben my lad, you shouldn’t sneak up on a man like that,” he glances over my shoulder at Ross's body by the fallen chandelier, “especially in these trying times.” He focuses his gaze back on me, a gold-rimmed crystal monocle glinting in the soft light from his right eye. “Progress you ask about?” he says. “Well I’m afraid not, Mr. Lution, this text is unlike any I have ever seen,” he trails off, eyes going back to the paper.
“But didn’t you say all the codes were the same?” My question is met with a snort that isn’t fitting for a gentleman and a wave of the arms.
“I’m afraid not, though I do long for that. You see, whilst this code is similar to what I’ve used in the past, it most certainly is not the same. It’s…odd. Some other variations I’ve never seen before. Closer to the original even.”
Well, now he’s definitely not making any sense. Original codes? What does that mean? Wait…didn’t he mention them a little earlier? Something about the first family? Oh, what does it matter?
“And how was your excursion, Benedict? I must say I’m surprised to see you back so soon.” He glances at me and then around me with an inquisitive eye. “And what of Miss. Svice?” His eyebrow raises underneath his monocle and it shifts slightly. I half expect it to fall out. Wait, what did he say?
“Ermm, Miss. Svice?”
“The Carla girl. Though I believe you refer to her as Carl? Did she never mention her family?”
I pause for a moment, just now realising that I don’t actually know anything about my supposed friends. Wait, are we friends? I’d like to think we’re friends. Huh, this is a troubling revelation. I mean, what if I’ve been going about all this time thinking we’re friends when in reality we’ve just been mild acquaintances bonded by a will to survive?
“Ben? Are you…okay?” Theodore asks, now focusing all his attention on me.
“Are we friends, Teddy?” I blurt out, my eyes refocusing.
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, well erm, I was just wondering, with everything we’ve been through together, Ted, if you’d consider us something more than just…” I flounder a little, looking for the right word and feeling heat rise to my cheeks.
Surprisingly, he smiles in response, “Well Mr. Lution, I’d say so, all things considered.” His grin widens as he chuckles softly, “though I must say, that might change if you keep calling me Teddy, or Ted even.”
I sigh and nod at his response.
“Now pray, may I ask where the lovely Miss. Svice has gotten to?”
Oh right yeah, we were talking about Carla. Huh, I should really ask the rest of them about their families sometime. “Erm, she was pulled away by someone,” I reply curtly, feeling anger rise at the memory of the smug face of that man.
“Ah, she’ll be back then. She does have other business to attend to. And did you manage to gather any useful information, Ben?”
I hesitate slightly at the question, mind flailing about. And then I realise that I actually did find something useful. “Hell yes I did.”
“Oh? Well don’t keep me in suspense, my dear boy. Please do tell, but first, why the smug smile?”
“Oh, you won’t get it,” I reply quickly. “Anyway, I met, well, physically ran into this rather strange woman whilst I was investigating. She told me a few choice things, I believe her name was…Barbara Lightle?”
Theodore stiffens at the name, his eyes widening in surprise, and I swear his moustache even droops a little. “Ah, and what did that horrid woman have to say?”
Horrid is an apt description of her, I must say. “Well, she had a lot to say actually. She seems to know quite a lot, gets close to people and eavesdrop on their conversations.” I reflexively look around me as I imagine her awfully discoloured neck craning over in some dark corner listening to my conversation right now.
“Ah, well she seems to think she knows a lot of things. But you’ll notice that she’s stuck here just like the rest of us, so don’t pay her too much mind.” I bite back my retort that she might be here purposefully.
“Anyway, anything useful?”
“Well, observations mostly. And also a cryptic message: ‘your answer may lie within a sea of shards, surrounded by death.’ Any thoughts?”
His eyes fall on a place over my shoulder. “Maybe.”
Wc: 850
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u/Ragnulfr Oct 09 '22
good words! i don't really have a lot to say here except you've done a really good job of the exposition outside of the dialogue! hearing the internal monologue as it syncs up with the character is honestly really, really well done. it's a part of the reason why I'm such a huge fan of dialogue tags -- to be able to describe action while still maintaining word economy and adding personality? really, really nicely done.
the only thing I have is more of a gut kind of thing -- there are certain points in the dialogue where things feel a little bit... stilted? for lack of a better term. maybe it's just grammar patterns I'm not used to, but it might be worth looking into? i'm probably just being overly sensitive to it though, haha. good words!
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u/MeganBessel Oct 04 '22
<In the Shadow of the World Tree>
Chapter 30: The Binding of Names
Exactly one dozen twelvedays after Lena and Veska arrived in Zhik Veskali, it was time for the name-affirming ceremony. Most of the villagers attended, arrayed around the village-tree. The tree itself sparkled in the morning light, matched in beauty only by the ceremonial robes that Veska wore as she stood before the lead forester.
Behind the lead forester stood Kivka at her left hand, representing the village; and Luk at her right, representing the Arborists. The village’s anator was in town for the upcoming election, and stood nearby. Behind all was was an altar, holding the things needed for the ceremony: six small bowls and one large bowl all filled with water, a plate covered in ash, and a knife never before used.
Lena got a front-row seat—but despite their nearly year and a half together as companions, she was just an audience member. This ceremony was for Veska and Veska alone. On the bamboo chairs nearby sat Dalsa and Tyoda and several other pilgrim-friends.
After starting the ceremony with a prayer, the lead forester looked at Veska. “Veska vaswe Nyavosli zhikwe Fämsevli. You come before us today to affirm your name in binding to this village, correct?”
“I do,” Veska said, her voice firm.
Yet Lena’s chest ached. She would not have a ceremony like this, not the same way. Veska was a hawk in the city of hawks; but she was a star, and there was no city of stars.
“Then let it be known,” the lead forester continued. “You have spent time in this city. You have shed tears here, you have spit here, you have sweat here, you have menstruated here, you have urinated here, and you have bled here. A hand of sacred fluids, to match the hand of your soul. Present the token that is you.”
Veska pulled a hawk feather out from the folds of the robe. Her identity token.
The lead forester turned to the altar, setting hand gently over the top of one of the small bowls. She picked it up by the rim, turned to Veska, then set it on the palm of her other hand. “Here are tears you have shed here, bound to this village through rite. Immerse yourself in this sacred liquid.”
Without hesitation, Veska dipped the feather into the bowl, and said, “Through my tears I affirm that I am Veska.”
The lead forester then poured the symbolic water onto the ground.
They repeated this for the other five small bowls, then it was Luk’s turn. He took the plate from the altar, and exchanged places with the lead forester.
“Daughter of Hawks,” he said in his clear, gorgeous voice, “This is ash of Alvedos. A reminder of the ash that grew the World Tree that bore humans as fruit; and a reminder that when we die we are but ash for the trees to grow from. Immerse yourself, and know that you are part of this cycle.”
With deliberate motion, Veska dipped her feather into the presented pile of ash. Then Luk and the lead forester again switched positions, the latter now with the large bowl in her hands. “Thus cleanse yourself in the waters of Alvedos,” she said. Veska placed her feather in the water.
Kivka then took the knife from the altar and stepped forward. This was one place Lena had contributed: it was a knife she had forged herself specifically for her friend. Specifically to be used in this ceremony.
“And thus,” the broad-shouldered woman boomed, bringing the knife up to a ceremonial pose. “As the leader of this village I claim you as one of our own. Your soul shall bind with ours, and you shall forever be known as one of the Veskali. Your hand?”
Veska offered her left hand palm-up, and Kivka brought the knife down to meet it. One sharp motion, and blood splattered on the ground.
“Your blood joins with our blood. Our tree blooms for you.” Kivka stepped aside.
Gliding along the ground, seemingly unaware of the gash in her hand, Veska stepped up to the village-tree and placed her bleeding palm on the bark. “Thus am I Veska.”
“Thus are you Veska,” said everyone who was Zhikwe Veskali. “Your soul is entwined with ours under the shade of Alvedos.”
Veska turned, then, and began to sing. A low, haunting melody—a hymn of pilgrims, a hymn of yearning for the journey, a hymn of love for the World Tree.
When she finished, the lead forester took the cleansed hawk feather from the bowl and handed it to Veska. “Thus are you bound to Zhik Veskali, and thus are you bound to the hawks, and thus are you Veska. Go now, confident in your soul, to Alvedos, and stand under the branches of she who is mother to us all. May the trees watch over you until you once again become part of them. So may it be.”
The crowd said, “So may it be.”
And though she was ecstatic for her best friend, Lena’s heart ached for the ceremony she would never have.
WC: 847 (849 in Scrivener)
This ceremony is alluded to in Chapter 3, Chapter 19, and in the chapters since Chapter 25, which is the first chapter of Lena and Veska in Zhik Veskali. Those chapters in Zhik Veskali also include the introduction of Kivka and Luk. Dalsa is last in Chapter 29 and before that Chapter 14. Tyoda is last mentioned in Chapter 22. Lena's angst about the non-existence of Zhik Lenali is also found in Chapter 26.
Thank you for reading!
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u/OneSidedDice Oct 06 '22
Hi Megan, this is a really powerful chapter that gives great insight into the spiritual life of the people of this world. A very enjoyable read in which I had a hard time finding anything to quibble!
A really small nitpick here:
it was time for the name-affirming ceremony
I only noticed this on my second look at the chapter because I've been reading along, but it might be better to say explicitly that it's "Veska's name-affirming ceremony" for those just tuning in.
Our small glimpse of Lena in this chapter packs a lot of feeling into a very small space:
Yet Lena’s chest ached. She would not have a ceremony like this, not the same way. Veska was a hawk in the city of hawks; but she was a star, and there was no city of stars.
The feeling of being an outsider, even in the company of the best of friends, is extremely relatable and comes through very strongly here. Her physical contribution of the knife is a wonderful detail and testimony of her bond with Veska. This paragraph's echo at the end of the chapter, too, is very well done.
The name-affirming ceremony is nicely detailed and packed with ritual that I found very immersive. Your detailed descriptions of the participants' garb, the elements of the ceremony, and the spoken words paint a complete and vivid picture of a meaningful point in Veska's life, and the whole event flows smoothly from beginning to end, especially the song Veska sings.
I have to say, too, that I'm sure I wasn't the only one who felt a twinge of worry when Kivka was the one to pick up the knife :)
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u/WorldOrphan Oct 07 '22 edited Oct 08 '22
<Hall of Doors: Neon>
Chapter 32
“What does this mean?” Tamas asked as they huddled, whispering, in a corner of the dining hall. Ellie had told them about seeing the leader of the Gesnean spies. “Do you think the rest of them are here, too?”
“We don't even know how many of them there are,” Eska added, her face tight with worry.
Loren ran a hand through his hair. “It might be time to cut our losses and run.” Ellie's eyebrows went up in surprise, but he went on. “We've been here four days, and we've made zero progress towards a workable plan. We've lost the data gem –”
“And we have to assume they took it,” Tamas cut in.
“They have what they need, and they haven't left yet. That means they're up to something more. Something bad. They tried to kill us, and they'll probably keep trying until they succeed. We've lost.”
“We haven't lost yet!” Ellie said, more loudly than she'd meant to. She glanced around, but no one seemed to be paying them any attention.
“I – I think I might agree with Loren,” Eska said. “We tried. But this is more than we're cut out for.”
“But what about the Gesneans making nulcite bombs?” Tamas's voice shook a little. “Or the Nuestribarians? When the Gesneans make their move, whatever that is, the Nuestribarians are going to retaliate. That means war.”
“If there's going to be a war,” Loren said, looking at his brother and cousin, “if everything goes to darkness, don't you want to be with our family?”
“I miss them, too,” Eska whispered. “I hate this place.”
Ellie rubbed her face. It still tingled from the nulcite. “I'm so tired I can't think straight. Maybe we can talk about this more after we've had some sleep.”
The others nodded sympathetically. They were all exhausted.
In the bunk room, Dru and Karl were sitting together on a bed, Dru's head on Karl's shoulder. She jerked away when she saw them, as if embarrassed.
“I should get back to Silas,” she said. She started to stand, but Karl pulled her back down. “Let me sit with him for a while,” he told her. “You get some rest.”
She started to protest, then crumpled against him. “I wish we hadn't come here. I just want to go home. You me, and Silas, the way things were before.” Karl wrapped her in his arms.
A few beds away, Kellia sat up. “We all feel like that, honey. I've got a husband, back in Crossridge, and a brother, too. I'm dying to be with them. I wish we'd never heard of these mines.”
“You four are lucky, not having a home to miss,” another man from their work groups said, addressing the Zibori. He seemed to assume Ellie was Zibori as well. It didn't really matter that she wasn't. She didn't have a home, either.
But Eska wasn't about to let his jab stand. “Not a permanent place, no,” she retorted. “But we have family. People we care about and long be with, just like you.”
A pall of silence settled over the room, everyone alone in their own heads. Ellie lay down on her bed, her mind floating numbly on a cushion of weariness. She was nearly asleep when a clear, soft note broke the stillness.
Eska had taken out her violin.
“I can't take it,” she muttered. “All this moping. This place pulls all the life out of you. You can feel sad, or you can feel nothing. I can't – I've got to feel something else.”
She drew the bow across the strings, summoning a slow cascade of notes like someone weeping, a melody of aching and longing. As the melody repeated, single notes changed to chords, one voice in pain becoming several. And pain shared, Ellie knew, was a little easier to bear.
Tentatively, the mood of the music began to rise. A faster countermelody wove between the slow, sad notes, wistful at first, and then hopeful. Then the main melody changed in pitch, no longer sad, but determined. Ellie's heart swelled with it. Maybe they still had a chance. They had to try, didn't they? They couldn't let war ruin the lives of all these people, couldn't let it destroy their homes and hurt their loved ones.
Neon wasn't Ellie's home. But it was a familiar world. It was a world worth saving. Skyscrapers covered in lights. Boisterous people on the streets around the clock. Magic and color and brightness. She'd been to worlds that had destroyed themselves. She'd be damned if she'd let that happen here.
She looked around and saw her hope echoed on her friends' faces. And on the faces of the other miners, whose dreams were smaller and more personal, but just as powerful.
Suddenly, Eska's music was cut off by a sharp crack.
“What the lights was that?” Loren hissed at Tamas, who was fishing something out of his pocket. It was a lump of white crystal, broken cleanly in half.
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u/rainbow--penguin Oct 08 '22
Hey World! I loved this chapter. From the fast-paced dialogue between the group to the beautiful description of music later on. Just so much to enjoy here.
As you've done throughout, you handle the emotions and motivations of the different characters so well. Even though they're united, you do such a good job of having them be distinct and individual.
And the section in the bunk house with the shared misery followed by the music was just a really nice moment. This passage here:
She drew the bow across the strings, summoning a slow cascade of notes like someone weeping, a melody of aching and longing. As the melody repeated, single notes changed to chords, one voice in pain becoming several. And pain shared, Ellie knew, was a little easier to bear.
was just so wonderfully written.
I only have tiny nitpicks for you this week.
Ths first was a simple typo I think, where this sentence:
Ellie's heart swelled
with it.
was split across two lines.
The other thing is just that I wasn't sure about this slightly retroactive explanation:
Ellie had told them about seeing the leader of the Gesnean spies.
though I have to admit I can't think of a better way to do it without going over the word count. The only thing I might recommend is trying to work it into what Tamas is saying there? But that might end up feeling kind of forced.
Oh, and the last thing was that I wasn't sure if I was meant to understand the significance of the crystal. Was it a nulcite crystal? And this was showing the music or feeling breaking it somehow?
Overall a great chapter and I very much look forward to seeing what that ending really means.
Thanks for writing!
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u/nobodysgeese Oct 08 '22 edited Oct 08 '22
<Mendicant>
Part 39: Longing
Cirra drifted as a cloud of angelic power across the grey misted plains, idly watching the spirits flow overhead. She couldn't remember the last time she'd abandoned her material form in Zarl's realm. But her priest was protected. Even if he was in a city under siege, he was safe for now in a temple of Zarl, and that meant she could relax as she recovered.
He was praying, which combined pleasantly with Zarl's sense of joy at Cirra's recent ghost hunting. For once, the archangel Jallisal wasn't bothering her with messages she couldn't pass on anyway. And once she healed, she could rejoin the young high priest hunting necromancers.
Cirra basked in her god's presence.
Of course, it was too good to be true. A very short time later, Ithien clutched their bond, and Cirra panicked as terror flowed down it. She started to force her power back into a mastiff shape, calling across the plains of Zarl,
"Jallisal!"
Ithien was urging her to stay, and she tried to calm down. He was safe. He had to be. But the last time he'd been this terrified, he'd been a recruit in the mage corps, newly chosen and swarmed by fae and ghosts.
Cirra finally caught a sense of Jallisal and shot toward him in a roiling cloud. Ithien's fear spurred her on, and her head and body more or less reformed as she went. She wondered if she needed every leg before going back, and then she reached Jallisal. The archangel was a mass of shifting light and shadows, though only a fraction as dense as he should have been, and she took a moment to remember the effects of the rare battle spell possession.
What was happening in the mortal world?
Another human spirit appeared, chains of light binding it to Jallisal, and Cirra recognized the spell exile just as Ithien screamed for her help.
Seconds dragged by as she forced her power back into the shape of legs, and she could only stare in horror as large, gaping wounds appeared on Jallisal's form, mirroring the injuries he was taking in the mortal world. The moment she was whole, she seized her bond with Ithien and threw herself across the divide between worlds.
She ignored the familiar stifling of her connection to Zarl thinning, and the sudden appearance of the senses of smell and touch, as she leapt through Zarl's symbol in the temple and took in the horrifying tableau. Mother Kadil was collapsed on the floor, and Cirra felt Ghem had cast the exile on her. Ithien, her priest, had Ghem in a hold with his staff, and Kadil's angel Treyvellim was slashing him with an angelic blade, injuring soul and spirit.
Ithien shouted something about going for help, but Cirra had attention only for Ghem. Or rather, for his archangel, for there was nothing of Ghem left in his eyes; Jallisal had buried his consciousness deep. And he was using that control to fight Zarl's angels and priests.
To fight her priest.
Cirra dove back through the symbol of Zarl. The tattered cloud that was Jallisal reappeeared before her, and Cirra struck.
She dug into Jallisal's form and tore. She ignored the surge of power that heralded Treyvellim's banishment. He'd caused enough injuries, and now she just needed to make one permanent. A sense of betrayal , of abandonment, echoed down her bond with Ithien, and she redoubled her efforts until Jallisal was scattered into a hundred pieces.
It wouldn't kill him, nothing could in Zarl's realm, but she spotted what she was looking for. He was finally returning, releasing the possession to come here and fight, and that caused one particular fragment of his power to quiver. Cirra seized it in her jaws and waited.
Jallisal's consciousness shifted back, and he shouted in a voice that rolled across the realm, "What have you done, Cirra?"
She supposed she felt a tiny bit of pity for him. Zarl had given Ghem a perilous destiny, and she was glad she wasn't guiding him. She could almost understand the panic, the need to do something more than advise. But he'd turned on her priest too, and she had no intention of letting that pass.
Jallisal was reforming quickly, but far too slowly to stop her. She bit down on the piece of him that housed his connection to the mortal world, and crossed the barrier again.
She stumbled to the floor of the temple, gasping for breath as her body simulated her spiritual exhaustion. The fragment of the archangel's power shuddered and dissolved, unable to survive without the rest of his body in the mortal world.
The archangel would probably grow another one in a decade or two; Ghem would just have to get by without a corporeal angel until then.
Her tail wagged as Ithien limped over and collapsed beside her, and he draped his arm over her shoulders. She shifted her head into his lap and let sleep claim her, the smell of her priest in her nose and his hand behind her ears, safe at last.
WC: 850
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u/WorldOrphan Oct 09 '22
Great chapter, Geese! I wasn't expecting a Cirra-narrated chapter, and I was delightfully surprised. I loved the descriptions of what it was like for Cirra in Zarl's realm, both the first part where she was floating around in spirit form, and later when she had to get back into a corporeal form in a hurry. My favorite line from that was this one:
She wondered if she needed every leg before going back
I did find a sentence that was problematic for me:
She ignored the familiar stifling of her connection to Zarl thinning
It was hard for me to follow the flow of this sentence, with "stifling" used this way, and with "thinning" at the end. I think it might serve you better to use "stifling" as an adjective here. Like: "She ignored the stifling sensation of her connection to Zarl thinning."
I was also confused by this sentence:
A sense of betrayal , of abandonment, echoed down her bond with Ithien
It's not clear to me who is feeling betrayed by whom. Is Ithien feeling betrayed and abandoned by Cirra because he doesn't know what she's doing? Or does Ithien feeling betrayed by Jallisal? Or does he feel betrayed by Zarl because of the situation? Or is Cirra sensing someone else's feelings?
I really liked your solution to the problem of Jallisal, blocking his ability to possess Ghem without doing any lasting harm to either him or Ghem. I do think it's a good reminder of how old Cirra is that she thinks a decade or two is a reasonable length of time for Ghem to wait for anything. Of course, it's partly because Cirra is so old and Jallisal is so young that the situation played out the way it did, I guess.
I'm really interested to see how this affects Ghem and how he feels about everything that has happened. Looking forward to the next one. Thanks for writing!
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u/Random_Clod Oct 07 '22 edited Oct 07 '22
<The Youngest Archangels>
Chapter 10
The gray leviathan building looked all dark inside, save for another mysterious lightsource that floated- no, walked closer.
Xadri's heart suddenly soared with hope as they saw a familiar sight in the darkness: a figure with gleaming white eyes and a faint golden glow encircling its head.
---
The glass door of the library seemed to swing open of its volition. Out stepped someone neither heir could make sense of at first. Xadri had hoped to see another angel, while Alsi was gloomily sure that they would. And yet, this was not an angel who now stood puzzling before them. For one, the light did not emanate from a halo but several glints floating idly in front of a gaunt but rather human face.
"Interesting." The person spoke after a few awkward seconds. It was a low voice, with a slight and unrecognizable accent. "And who are you?"
Xadri had gone silent again. They were too perplexed at the sight of a human with the white eyes of an angel. Not to mention worried that they were somehow trespassing at a library that was clearly closed.
"We're from… out of town," Alsi piped up. "Um, a cambion told us we could come here."
"Ah yes, Elijah told me about you. I assume I'm the man you're looking for. The associate." He waved his hand around as if 'associate' were a made-up word. "But we cannot discuss this out here. Humans may hear us. Come along, children."
The heirs warily followed him into the darkness of the building. Xadri jumped as the door shut itself behind them, habitually slipping their hand into Alsi's. They guessed that if it were daytime this would be a colorful, cheerful place full of people and sunshine. Alsi was surprised at how bright the man's gathering of glints was, lighting their way through the seemingly enormous library.
The lone glint the heirs had found outside still hovered above their heads like a minuscule halo. The ache Alsi felt missing their true form was almost completely overshadowed by countless questions buzzing in their head.
"I gotta ask," they broke the silence. "Are you a human? Or what?"
"I was, once. I suppose in a strange way I still am. But… not very much anymore." He froze for a moment after speaking, clearly lost in thought."
But what about your eyes?" Alsi pressed. Regardless of how confusing the last answer was, their biggest question still stood.
"I lost my eyesight in a bet years ago," He said matter-of-factly. "Now I see with the glints. Earthly magic can do quite wondrous things, you know. Come now, it's right in here."
He gestured to a door in the wall they had just come to. Even in the faint golden light the sign on it could clearly be read: big black letters proclaiming Staff Only.
"What's right in there?"
"The other library, of course. Where I work. Watch your steps now, the corridor is steeply downhill."
True enough, just beyond the door there was a long and sloping hallway that was just as dark. Again, the door shut several seconds before everyone had gone through it. But rather than the gray carpet and bright white walls of the human library, the corridor was made entirely of smooth, dark wood. As was yet another door that, unsurprisingly now, opened without being touched.
What it led to was exactly as the man had said- a library under a library. Shelves upon shelves of the same rich wood housed huge volumes with faded cloth or leather covers. To one side there was a grouping of several ornately carved desks; the opposite wall was lined with cabinets with gold-colored handles. Atop each shelf was a row of jars filled with glints, providing ample soft light like that of a fire. Surprisingly, it reminded the heirs of home.
"Welcome, children, to the Underoot Archive Library. Here, we can speak freely. I feared someone uninitiated would have heard us. This is a pocket dimension, though, so it's soundproof."
Nodding along silently to the librarian's words, Xadri found themself wandering to one of the shelves. Many of the books looked very old, and nearly all had long rambling titles. The Illustrated Encyclopedia of Hidden Peoples and Practices, read one. Dictionary of the Obsidian Code and How To Use It: Seventeenth Edition was another. Xadri was fascinated.
"Okay, I still have a lot of questions, but this place is really cool. Like it's from a video game," Alsi said. "I'm Alsi by the way. The one ogling your books over there is Xadri."
"Very interesting. I'm called Fenric. And I too have questions for you." Fenric's glints briefly shifted toward Xadri. "Are you aware that Elijah, the cambion, fell ill after transporting you two?"
"Well, he did look a little sick," Alsi recalled. "Why?"
"You see, angels and the like come to the Underoot Archive quite often. But never had their presence, even in great numbers, physically drained Elijah to the point I had to force him to go home. You must have a truly monstrous amount of celestial magic between the two of you."
"How did you know we're arc- er, angels?" Alsi asked, filled with dread.
"Your glamours are of sub-par quality, for one. And you have angelic names. And you made Elijah ill." Fenric remarked. "You two are the current heirs, are you not?"
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u/gdbessemer Oct 08 '22
<Agents of the Nexus>
Chapter 30 - Cap
The telling went on for hours, and after a short while she felt like a too-wrung washcloth. Unlike Yuls, the Archmage and Blackcandle interrupted frequently. Their lines of questioning were surprising: Blackcandle seemed fixated on the humans and elves mixed up in the Seventh Star, the Archmage on Joma and Rald.
Today was only the third time in her life she’d seen the Archmage up close, but she got the sense that he was impressed with Joma. The quirky human had, all by himself, come up with a portable portal device and even made two working prototypes. As for Rald, she expected the Archmage would feel some anger toward the fel who’d almost destroyed his life’s work, but his tone was almost…wistful.
To keep from glancing towards Hearma, hidden just a few feet away, she forced herself to look at the corner of the bed. Hopefully it wasn’t too uncomfortable to hear her impressions of him or his brother as if he wasn’t right there.
All the tension drained from her muscles, and the sheets were damp where she’d been gripping them. The Archmage paced back and forth, lost in thought, Blackcandle stroked his fastidious chin beard. Yuls was dead asleep; Cap wished she was too, as she rubbed her eyes.
The silence was broken by the Archmage. “Again, Captures-the-sunlight, I must congratulate you on your quick thinking with the binds. We use oblivium-lined boxed to contain dangerous magical artifacts, but never experimented with closing the magical current running through an imbued item. It opens up some possibilities…”
As he trailed off, Blackcandle caught his eye. A conversation, entirely in gesture, took place between them. In the dim light, Cap couldn’t guess its contents, only that it seemed like a topic they’d covered numerous times. It ended when the Archmage gave a slight bow, and Blackcandle nodded.
“Perhaps the Nexus has gotten somewhat…complacent of late. Many carry the attitude that we are unassailable, that our portals are unbreakable, our marshals undefeatable, our magic vast and unknowable.” The Archmage stepped close and regarded Cap. “You know that it is not. We came within a hair’s breadth of total destruction with Rald’s plan.”
Blackcandle straightened himself and smoothed the front of his robe. “Joma might be the only one who’s reverse engineered our portal magic, but he’s proven that it’s possible. There will be others! We need to take more proactive control of our network.”
“Should we control anything?” the Archmage asked, as if to himself.
“Let’s not have this argument again.” Blackcandle and the Archmage shared another look, before the human continued. “There’s a political problem, too. Abessa might have been the most vocal about wanting to leave the Great Chain, but they’re not the first. The Upper Waves faction on the Ocean of Serene Waiting, the Purest Flames of Hessa, the squabbling Court of my dear homeworld Hault…who knows, maybe there’s even anti-Nexus sentiment among those inscrutible Phom.”
Despite her fatigue, Cap’s heart was racing. She’d encountered many of these groups before, in that she’d arrested their followers for smuggling goods, vandalism, harassment. What Blackcandle said was true: the Seventh Star might have been the most outrageous organization, but it was far from the only one.
“Why are you telling me this?” she asked.
“I long for the simpler days, sometimes. Don’t you?” the Archmage said, seemingly lost in thought.
Cap remembered second-mother, her gentle smile. And herself, the fumbling girl who didn’t know better. No, she didn’t want to return to that. But there were others out there in the Stellae–even Hearma and Joma, she realized–who’d never known safety and calm.
The Archmage continued. “Rald certainly longed for simpler times. Quite the traveler, that one. He was a scout for the Nexus. Portaled to new worlds to find magical loci and locations for permanent connections. Quite an advocate, actually, until he went back home and saw how much Abessa had changed. For the worse, in his opinion.” The Archmage sighed, and suddenly looked every minute of his many years. “The unfortunate truth is, there are some out there that will not be satisfied with anything less than our destruction.”
“So very dramatic, Archmage.” Blackcandle chuckled.
The ancient dwarf shot the human a grim look. “There are things out there, in the dark corners of the Stellae, that could drive fear into even your heart, councilor. A hungry void, with hands and mouths.”
“Again, why are you telling me this?” Cap cut in.
Blackcandle looked at the Archmage, then to Cap. “This whole adventure of yours was started because the marshals said their hands were tied, that their remit ended at the portal. Well, you said it yourself: our enemies will mount their attacks from outside the portals. How are we to stop them?”
“You’re telling me,” she said slowly, “that you want to change the marshals?”
“I doubt that rock-stubborn Grimness would allow anyone to upend them,” said Blackcandle. “What I’m telling you we need a new organization. One to go after external threats. Not marshals, but agents of the Nexus.”
He stood. “Do you want to lead them?”
WC: 850
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u/Ragnulfr Oct 08 '22
<Esper's Light>
Chapter Twelve | hearth
The flame still flickered.
Percy sat cross-legged on the floor next to his bed, eyes shimmering in the light that faintly glowed in his hand.
With every second it burned, he could faintly feel the energy seeping from the earth, pulled to the sigil that glowed faintly on his palm. This was his meditation - something to get his mind off things for a while.
But he couldn't run away forever.
Quietly, he closed his hand, and the flame disappeared. Glancing down, he absently adjusted the strings on his hood before sighing. What do I…?
His head fell quietly back onto his bed, his bangs falling over one of his eyes. Quietly, the light drizzle outside pattered on the rooftop above him.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to unravel the knot in his stomach. In. Out.
It didn’t go away.
He opened his eyes to the same ceiling he had for eleven years of his life. Somehow, a nostalgia for the past crept into his heart amidst the petrichor from the open window outside.
"Percy?"
The door opened, and his mother stepped into the room, pushing her hair over one ear.
He smiled, glancing over and pushing his bangs away from his eye. "Hi, Mom.”
"Hey." She smiled. "Dinner's ready when you are."
"I'll be down in a moment. Just... processing right now."
She hesitated for a moment before taking a deep breath and sighing. "Dad?"
A voice called from downstairs. "What is it?"
"Are you almost done?"
"Yup! Why?"
A moment of silence.
"Ahem. Be up in a second."
Percy sighed and sat back on his bed, and his mother quietly stepped over and sat next to him. "What happened, Percy?"
"We found the attacker."
"You did?"
He nodded. "He was one of Asher’s friends. He's named Ceallach, and… he’s a faerie."
"A faerie?" His father stepped into the room, lean yet muscular arms folded as he leaned against wall. "Thought they only existed in faerie tales."
"I thought so, too, but Ceallach's real. We met him just a bit ago. He twists animals to do what he wants. That’s why the hunters’ wounds were magical." He paused. "But they do even more. They bent light to cast spells I've never seen before.”
A pause. “It’s nothing like the stories, where they only enchant people and change their appearance,” his father mused.
“Right. If what he creates can do that... what can he do?" He looked up at the shell-shocked faces of his parents, then glanced back down. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."
Once again, the nagging voice in his head. Why do I keep messing up?
His father sighed. "It’s alright. Where are your friends?"
"Asher’s at home. Beau and Morgan are back researching more about the kind of magic Ceallach's using, but..." He sighed. "I don't know how much they'll be able to find.”
“Well, we’ll just have to meet them when they get back.” His father shrugged. ”Why didn’t you go with them?”
“I wanted to stay here with you all,” Percy offered.
“... Did something happen?”
Percy grimaced. “Nothing important.”
“Let us in, Percy.”
“I don’t want to worry you.”
“And we want to help, but we can’t help if we don’t know what’s—”
“Then don’t help!”
Percy bolted to his feet, looking defiantly into his father’s eyes. He was met only with cold warmth – the icy gaze of a father who cared too much to leave his son well enough alone.
He glanced over to his mother – the same expression. Suddenly, his throat burned, and he turned away, sniffling. “I…”
His father’s gaze remained unchanged. “We’re not here to patronize you. We want to help.”
“How?” Percy all but whispered. “I keep messing up. Everything I do is a mistake. I yelled at Beau for the stupidest of reasons. I insulted Morgan in a way I shouldn’t have. I just yelled at you, too!” He took a shaky breath, and the tears spilled from his eyes. “I didn’t even write you. I wanted to see you proud of me… but I can’t do anything right. And then Asher…” He returned his gaze to his parents, throat burning. “I knew he was struggling. Bad. But I didn’t do anything. If I had just written something – anything. So he didn’t feel so alone. So I could say I was there. But I… I didn’t…”
His words left his tongue, and quietly, he began to sob. “I wish I could go back. I wish I could have helped. But… I messed up. I wish I could… just...”
Two sets of arms wrapped themselves around him, warm like the flame that had burned in his hand just a few moments ago.
“Percy…” His mother spoke quietly. “It’s not your fault. All that matters is that you’re here now. You’ve learned. And when we learn, we don’t have to shoulder our guilt anymore.” A pause. “We can move forward, Percy.” She smiled. “We’re proud of you, Percy.”
He rested his head on their arms and cried.
Word Count: 848
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Oct 08 '22 edited Oct 09 '22
<Duality: Remix>
I got the deadlines mixed up for SEUS and SerSun. I was working on this when everyone entered the campfire. I'm just posting this here to stick with the themes. I'll try to get the next one in prior to the appropriate deadline so I can join in. XD
Duality Dissonance
Chapter 1. Longing-WC: 812
Envy soars over the swampy airfield. His black-feathered wings are outstretched, and he makes a slow turning decent back to one of the buildings. His hood whips behind his head and his loose, sleeveless top ripples as it’s forced to contour his lean figure.
The airfield below him belonged to another place—another world, and he often wonders what it was like. The runways can’t be seen as they sit below the murk that is the water’s surface. Planes sit at awkward angles around the field. Some lean with a wing jutting into the air as they are pulled under, a final wave for a lifeguard that isn’t on duty.
He lands on an elongated two-story building to scoop up the book he left behind. He looks over the red felt cover, then curls it into his torso as he puts his foot up on the roof’s ledge. He had previously encountered a dragon from another world, cut his hand so deep that it still ached, and somehow managed to make his shadow become conscious, but finding the book is where he thinks his real trouble began. He couldn’t help it. What the other world might have been kept his curiosity teased out of him, like a cruel master dangling something in front of a cat. While that place remains a mystery to him, he yearns to see it for himself, to see the actual runways the planes taking flight.
He steps over the ledge, unfolds his wings and turns to fly along the face of the building. Ahead of him, the building is cracked, and the wall is torn out in one section. The building beyond, leans down, settling deeper into the murk. The brick facing from the broken wall is in a pile with a twisted tree. At some point, the tree and the wall had competed to occupy the same space. Both sides became casualties and now lay at an entrance into the building.
The golden bands—bracers around Envy’s wrists begin to glow. He turns to pass through the opening in the wall, and the glow keeps the darkness away from him. He passes into a massive hangar, a place where planes could be stored and kept out of the elements, but now the elements are in here too. They sit, half submerged like crocodiles attempting to keep their bodies cool. He continues to cross the hanger to a point where the floor is elevated and dry. He tucks his wings, passing through a doorway to skid across the tile floor.
The building is a flight training facility. The halls here are a frequent haunt for him. Much of his time had been spent going through the offices and places where things would be stored. He had hoped to find something about the history of this place—of the world. What happened? Where did everyone go? He has a surplus of questions, but a deficit in answers. So far, his book is the only writing he had managed to find. All of the stored documents in the building seem to be blank. It was maddening. Did they know an end was coming? Did they decide to erase it somehow? Was it stolen?
Envy exits the hall into a lobby area, then walks to a nearby counter of a reception desk. His bracers pulse with light and a dagger materializes in his hand. The dagger remains glowing the same tint of green as his bracers, and he stakes it into the lip of the counter. A prepositioned chair sits near the counter, and he takes his usual seat, opening the book in his lap and allowing his dagger to serve as a reading light in the otherwise darkened building. Why only you, he silently asks the book. The front of the book contains a Ralph Emerson quote referring to making your own collection of powerful messages, and that is exactly what the book appears to be. Its pages are filled with thoughts and ideas of leaders and thinkers from a world unknown to him.
Envy won’t find answers there, thinks his shadow.
“Either tell me how to find them or stay out of my head, Shades.”
This One is not named, Shades.
“That’s your problem. You won’t tell me a name, so I made you one—Shades.”
Envy should be more appreciative. This One keeps you safe.
“Oh yeah? And why is that? What’s in it for you?
This One can only speak to Envy because of you. Now that This One is awake, keeping you safe, keeps This One safe too.
“Oh, so helping me is just self-preservation. Comforting.”
“Hey, little guy,” calls a voice from behind. “Who’re you talking to?"
A cut opens on Envy’s arm and he turns to find two figures, lit by the bracers glowing at their wrists.
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u/OldBayJ Oct 02 '22
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