Continuing (hopefully finishing) the ongoing scene...
I wound up missing yesterday because I was sick at work and when I finally managed to get home I slept a lot.
Anyway, here is what I hope to be the end of the scene I've been working my way through. I've been first-drafting this little scene as I typed it into the LJ update form, so it pretty much came to you straight out of my head. While it came to me fairly slowly, at first, it has given me a nice idea for a full-length story down the road. Besides, right now the important thing for me is that I'm making the effort to write every day.
* * *
La stared at the dog, wrestling in her head over what it just said. "Well, surely they must lead themselves out?"
The dog snorted, nodding its head toward Stormsmith. "Look at him," and as she watched, the Hero of Wollenshire drained the last whiskey from his flask and began to shout orders to a garbage heap. "How can he get himself out of anywhere?"
La cast her eyes at her feet as Stormsmith pulled out a rusted sword and began slashing at the heap of refuse because it failed to stand up straight. She cast a glance back to Bertha, sitting by fire barrel and staring into the flames. Everyone talked about how she used to be such a good cook. They say she used to hold the most wonderful parties in her neighborhood with all the best food. Now, her skin was hanging off her gaunt frame from lack of food and her eyes had lost the spark that had once lit up the room. La wondered if she even saw the flames in front of her, anymore.
"What could I even do about it?" she asked without taking her eyes from Bertha, "I'm just a scarred prostitute in the poorest part of town."
"You are no more a prostitute than I am a dog, and I think you know that."
La cast her eyes from Bertha to the young boy sleeping in her arms. Mirrik dozed peacefully, his little face scrunched up in her bossom. "The dreams are real, aren't they?"
"If you mean the brief visions that you are someone else, then yes, but it is the sense that you are La the homeless courtesan that is mistaken. In reality, you are Princess Lavender, oldest child of the King."
Now it was La's turn to snort with derision. "Please! If I'm a princess, then what am I doing here?"
"You are not here at all. You are lying in your bed and you are having a vision. The spirits have taken your sleeping spirit and bought it here to show you truth. What you do with that truth will be up to you."
La's voice began to shake now, as did the hands holding Mirrik. Her legs felt wobbly, as did her head. "But... only the Sha-folk have visions. I'm not one of them!" La well remembered the only time she'd ever seen one of the Sha-folk. One of them had come to the castle to examine her. Wrinkled and leathery, with yellowed, crooked teeth, the old woman had tried to convince Lavender's father to let her take her away somewhere, but father had refused.
"That's right. She came to visit you in the castle, didn't she?" She looked down at the dog, not wanting to listen. It couldn't be true, but it kept talking. "She wanted to take you away for training, but since you are the Crown Princess, your father wouldn't have it."
"Training? For what?"
"To become a sha, of course. The sha-folk rarely choose the lives they lead. They are chosen by the spirits and imbued with the mark in their blood. Other sha-folk recognize the mark and train the children to use their gifts. Once chosen, however, the mark will never fade. Your father not allowing you to be properly trained does not change the fact that you are sha, and your gifts will manifest eventually."
"So... what? I've gone insane? I'm going to end up like him?" La asked as she nodded toward the now dancing Stormsmith.
"No. Make no mistake. This is not the delusion of madness, but a vision of the truth. The spirits have bought you here to show you what you would not face: That while you sleep peacefully in silk and satin, thousands suffer below you. Your father did not start this war, but he is taking advantage of it to gain power and wealth, and countless of his subjects will suffer for it for the rest of their lives."
The tears rolled freely down Lavender's cheeks, now. She knew, in her heart, that it was true. The balcony of her bed chambers faced away from the Quarter, but she had seen it, nonetheless. It was a black stain in the middle of the colorful city that she loved. She had asked her father about it, of course, but somehow had always simply accepted his explanations that the people there were there because of things they had done, or because they were sick like Stormsmith, or even just because they were just too lazy to work.
"The lies of a father protecting his little child from the ugly truths of real life."
"Even still, what could I do about anything, here. I'm not Queen yet, and won't be for a very long time. I'm certainly not going to hurt my father and sieze the throne..."
"Certainly not, but you are here to learn. Soon, the vision will have run its course and you will awaken in your silks and the smell of the lavender scents you love. What you do from there is up to you. The possibilities of a new day are the true gift of the dawn."
Wordlessly, Lavender nodded, looking about at the faces that she could see from where she stood Even now, the sky was lightening, and as she looked up to the Eastern wall, across the Quarter, she saw the first sliver of the dawn...
...and woke in her bed, the scent of lavender caressing her gently awake. She lay still, almost waiting for the dream to fade from her memory, but it did not. Looking out the window to see the sun rising, she made up her mind.
* * *
And that's where I'm going to stop this one. I'll be ironing out details and working it into a real story later on, but that's enough for my purposes, here.
Thank you for your patience, and I'll be writing something else, tomorrow! :D
Anyway, here is what I hope to be the end of the scene I've been working my way through. I've been first-drafting this little scene as I typed it into the LJ update form, so it pretty much came to you straight out of my head. While it came to me fairly slowly, at first, it has given me a nice idea for a full-length story down the road. Besides, right now the important thing for me is that I'm making the effort to write every day.
* * *
La stared at the dog, wrestling in her head over what it just said. "Well, surely they must lead themselves out?"
The dog snorted, nodding its head toward Stormsmith. "Look at him," and as she watched, the Hero of Wollenshire drained the last whiskey from his flask and began to shout orders to a garbage heap. "How can he get himself out of anywhere?"
La cast her eyes at her feet as Stormsmith pulled out a rusted sword and began slashing at the heap of refuse because it failed to stand up straight. She cast a glance back to Bertha, sitting by fire barrel and staring into the flames. Everyone talked about how she used to be such a good cook. They say she used to hold the most wonderful parties in her neighborhood with all the best food. Now, her skin was hanging off her gaunt frame from lack of food and her eyes had lost the spark that had once lit up the room. La wondered if she even saw the flames in front of her, anymore.
"What could I even do about it?" she asked without taking her eyes from Bertha, "I'm just a scarred prostitute in the poorest part of town."
"You are no more a prostitute than I am a dog, and I think you know that."
La cast her eyes from Bertha to the young boy sleeping in her arms. Mirrik dozed peacefully, his little face scrunched up in her bossom. "The dreams are real, aren't they?"
"If you mean the brief visions that you are someone else, then yes, but it is the sense that you are La the homeless courtesan that is mistaken. In reality, you are Princess Lavender, oldest child of the King."
Now it was La's turn to snort with derision. "Please! If I'm a princess, then what am I doing here?"
"You are not here at all. You are lying in your bed and you are having a vision. The spirits have taken your sleeping spirit and bought it here to show you truth. What you do with that truth will be up to you."
La's voice began to shake now, as did the hands holding Mirrik. Her legs felt wobbly, as did her head. "But... only the Sha-folk have visions. I'm not one of them!" La well remembered the only time she'd ever seen one of the Sha-folk. One of them had come to the castle to examine her. Wrinkled and leathery, with yellowed, crooked teeth, the old woman had tried to convince Lavender's father to let her take her away somewhere, but father had refused.
"That's right. She came to visit you in the castle, didn't she?" She looked down at the dog, not wanting to listen. It couldn't be true, but it kept talking. "She wanted to take you away for training, but since you are the Crown Princess, your father wouldn't have it."
"Training? For what?"
"To become a sha, of course. The sha-folk rarely choose the lives they lead. They are chosen by the spirits and imbued with the mark in their blood. Other sha-folk recognize the mark and train the children to use their gifts. Once chosen, however, the mark will never fade. Your father not allowing you to be properly trained does not change the fact that you are sha, and your gifts will manifest eventually."
"So... what? I've gone insane? I'm going to end up like him?" La asked as she nodded toward the now dancing Stormsmith.
"No. Make no mistake. This is not the delusion of madness, but a vision of the truth. The spirits have bought you here to show you what you would not face: That while you sleep peacefully in silk and satin, thousands suffer below you. Your father did not start this war, but he is taking advantage of it to gain power and wealth, and countless of his subjects will suffer for it for the rest of their lives."
The tears rolled freely down Lavender's cheeks, now. She knew, in her heart, that it was true. The balcony of her bed chambers faced away from the Quarter, but she had seen it, nonetheless. It was a black stain in the middle of the colorful city that she loved. She had asked her father about it, of course, but somehow had always simply accepted his explanations that the people there were there because of things they had done, or because they were sick like Stormsmith, or even just because they were just too lazy to work.
"The lies of a father protecting his little child from the ugly truths of real life."
"Even still, what could I do about anything, here. I'm not Queen yet, and won't be for a very long time. I'm certainly not going to hurt my father and sieze the throne..."
"Certainly not, but you are here to learn. Soon, the vision will have run its course and you will awaken in your silks and the smell of the lavender scents you love. What you do from there is up to you. The possibilities of a new day are the true gift of the dawn."
Wordlessly, Lavender nodded, looking about at the faces that she could see from where she stood Even now, the sky was lightening, and as she looked up to the Eastern wall, across the Quarter, she saw the first sliver of the dawn...
...and woke in her bed, the scent of lavender caressing her gently awake. She lay still, almost waiting for the dream to fade from her memory, but it did not. Looking out the window to see the sun rising, she made up her mind.
* * *
And that's where I'm going to stop this one. I'll be ironing out details and working it into a real story later on, but that's enough for my purposes, here.
Thank you for your patience, and I'll be writing something else, tomorrow! :D