Warren_Paul
Banishment this world!
I've been taking a bit of time off to get some perspective on my writing and played around with several different versions of my novel, redrafted part of an older novel and have at last come full circle on a decision about how to handle things. So now I've resurfaced and started to take a more active role on the forums.
I've got a piece here which comes after the opening scene of my current WIP so the character introductions for the protagonist and her little companion -- and her stuffed toy bear -- have already been done. Unfortunately, due to word count limits, I can't post the entire scene like I would really want to, and had a hard time finding a good spot to cut it, but hopefully this is enough to get some feedback on. The setting is a form of Urban Fantasy (Not set in present day, or any other era really -- it forms its own evolution of technology) with a light touch of Steampunk elements thrown in the mix. Some people who have read my work in the past might recognise this scene, even with the adjustments I have made since.
With a loud clang, the train doors closed behind me. Waves of rain pattered against the pavement like a hundred horses galloping to war. The girl hunched her shoulders and scrunched up her face. I knew how she felt. With my hand on her back, I lead her from the platform, heading to the lights across the road where Mertellie’s looked warm and inviting.
A carriage passed in front of us, kicking up water, its crystal lights highlighting the drops of rain like a thousand tiny insects racing towards the ground. Its motor churned softly as the carriage vanished into the distance. I wiped wet hair from my brow and continued on.
Doorbells don’t care if you want to remain anonymous, an unnoticed shadow in the back of the room. It rang as I opened the door, announcing to the whole diner: here I am, take notice of me. I wanted to rip it out.
The scent of stale smoke assaulted me and I pulled a face when I saw the thick haze drifting through the air. In the corner of the room, a jukebox played a slow, drowsy tune, the glow of its multi-hued crystallites vibrant in the fog. A dishevelled, grey-haired man sat at the bar, looking as if he’d had the worst day of his life. That was every single day for many who lived around here and I wouldn’t be surprised if there was something a little stronger than coffee in that mug he nursed.
We took a table halfway down the narrow room; one that gave me a good view of the door I’d come through, and where the window would provide me with a mirror-image of the exit at my back. Paranoid or not, with an occupation like mine one could never be too careful. Freed from my belt, I rested the scabbarded sword against the seat. The girl slid across the glossy red benchseat we shared, until she was right up against the wall and able to stare out the window, watching the rain make mosaics of the city lights on the glass.
‘Are you hungry?’ I asked her. The light reflected in the girl’s eyes, but there was no life to them. Torn out the moment she’d witnessed her parents’ death, I suspect.
‘Do you have a name?’ No answer. I placed my hand on hers. ‘You can call me Sera, that’s what my friends call me.’
Her head turned my way and for just a moment her chocolate brown eyes locked onto mine. She hugged her bear tighter and returned her gaze to the window.
A cup clattered down on the tabletop in front of me and the waitress started to pour thick coffee into it. The dark brew splashed up the sides, warm chocolate creaminess swirling around the centre like a whirlpool, but I tried not to get my hopes up; looks can be deceiving.
‘And for your daughter?’ the waitress asked, her Southern Hintervale accent deep and rough as she worked her way around the glob of thornroot in her mouth. I could smell its sweet, sickly scene on her breath.
‘She’s… do you have any juice?’ It might be best for the girl that I did pretend she was mine, at least until I could find her real family – if she had any left that is.
The waitress chewed noisily as she looked down her nose at me. ‘Oranges, fresh in today. They’ll cost you a fair krysta.’
I very much doubted they were fresh, but oranges were rare in the lower levels of Castlepoint. My shardpurse weighed heavily in my hand.
‘I’m good for the crystal.’ I tapped a ruby shard against the table. The sight of it lit up her eyes in a way words never could.
The doorbell rang. The waitress sniffed loudly and turned away, returning to the bar with her pot of coffee. I took a sip from the cup and cringed. See, looks can be deceiving. It was nasty. Forcing myself to take another sip, I watched the man in a dark green trenchcoat sit at a table down the far end of the diner. The waitress walked over and poured him a coffee with the same disconsolate attitude she’d given me.
I flicked my gaze to the reflection in the window. Another man, dressed in the same style of trenchcoat sat a few tables behind us. No doubt they hid weapons beneath those coats. Secretly, so as not to draw attention to myself, I checked the sword where it sat next to me. Their attempts at being inconspicuous were as blatant as a teenage girl gushing all over her school crush on prom night, and they were too clean shaven, their hair kept tidy; not the type I’d expect to find in a rundown establishment the likes of Mertellie’s. I had picked this location for that very fact. Plans never work out as intended.
Once more the doorbell rang. I hid my smile behind the coffee cup. I could play this game, but first I had business to take care of. I peeked over the rim of the cup as Eli Wagner let the door slam shut behind him. The waitress stiffened and the trenchcoat men suddenly found a favourable liking to their coffees. The Blackcoat uniform Eli wore would do that. He took the benchseat across from me and the girl.
He leaned back in his seat, staring at me, his face set with a blank, cold expression. Eli only gave me that look when he wasn’t happy with me. Whatever it was that bothered him, he better let me in on it soon; I wasn’t in the mood for twenty questions tonight.
The waitress returned with the juice, reaching over me to place it in front of the girl. The kid didn’t even notice it, her eyes still fixed on the world outside the window. She didn’t even blink. Beams of light played across her face when a carriage pulled up outside the diner.
Eli tapped the table. The waitress glowered as she poured him a coffee. Turning her nose up at him, the woman retreated to the bar. Making me wait, testing my patience, he took a sip from his coffee and grimaced. He dropped the cup loudly onto the table. ‘That tastes like something my dear departed mother would make.’
I tried not to smile, but it wasn’t easy. The old battle-axe would be turning over in her grave.
‘Just what mess have you got yourself caught up in?’ Eli asked.
I arched an eyebrow at him.
Reaching beneath his heavy coat, he pulled free the paper I’d given him several days earlier and dropped it on the table, displaying the strange symbol drawn on it; a flame with a ring of stars around it, a pair of feathered wings stretching out from behind it. He pointed at the symbol. ‘As you requested, I showed this to Laci, that historian friend of mine.’
‘And?’ I asked, resting my arms on the table as I leaned forward.
‘She recognised it, that’s for sure.’
‘Does she know what it means?’
Eli sighed. ‘Whatever she knows about it, she intends to keep it to herself.’ He leaned forward, resting his own arms on the table and spoke quietly. ‘Look, Sera, whatever your interest in this is, now is the time to get out. This symbol frightened the hells out of Laci, and she isn’t one to be scared easily.’
I slumped back in my seat, letting out a breath. ‘I can’t do that.’ If I figured this out, it might well give me the answers I sought. My nature was a mystery to me, I wanted to know who I was and this was the only clue I had to go with. It was not something I could just walk away from, no matter what dangers it put me in.
I've got a piece here which comes after the opening scene of my current WIP so the character introductions for the protagonist and her little companion -- and her stuffed toy bear -- have already been done. Unfortunately, due to word count limits, I can't post the entire scene like I would really want to, and had a hard time finding a good spot to cut it, but hopefully this is enough to get some feedback on. The setting is a form of Urban Fantasy (Not set in present day, or any other era really -- it forms its own evolution of technology) with a light touch of Steampunk elements thrown in the mix. Some people who have read my work in the past might recognise this scene, even with the adjustments I have made since.
* * * *
With a loud clang, the train doors closed behind me. Waves of rain pattered against the pavement like a hundred horses galloping to war. The girl hunched her shoulders and scrunched up her face. I knew how she felt. With my hand on her back, I lead her from the platform, heading to the lights across the road where Mertellie’s looked warm and inviting.
A carriage passed in front of us, kicking up water, its crystal lights highlighting the drops of rain like a thousand tiny insects racing towards the ground. Its motor churned softly as the carriage vanished into the distance. I wiped wet hair from my brow and continued on.
Doorbells don’t care if you want to remain anonymous, an unnoticed shadow in the back of the room. It rang as I opened the door, announcing to the whole diner: here I am, take notice of me. I wanted to rip it out.
The scent of stale smoke assaulted me and I pulled a face when I saw the thick haze drifting through the air. In the corner of the room, a jukebox played a slow, drowsy tune, the glow of its multi-hued crystallites vibrant in the fog. A dishevelled, grey-haired man sat at the bar, looking as if he’d had the worst day of his life. That was every single day for many who lived around here and I wouldn’t be surprised if there was something a little stronger than coffee in that mug he nursed.
We took a table halfway down the narrow room; one that gave me a good view of the door I’d come through, and where the window would provide me with a mirror-image of the exit at my back. Paranoid or not, with an occupation like mine one could never be too careful. Freed from my belt, I rested the scabbarded sword against the seat. The girl slid across the glossy red benchseat we shared, until she was right up against the wall and able to stare out the window, watching the rain make mosaics of the city lights on the glass.
‘Are you hungry?’ I asked her. The light reflected in the girl’s eyes, but there was no life to them. Torn out the moment she’d witnessed her parents’ death, I suspect.
‘Do you have a name?’ No answer. I placed my hand on hers. ‘You can call me Sera, that’s what my friends call me.’
Her head turned my way and for just a moment her chocolate brown eyes locked onto mine. She hugged her bear tighter and returned her gaze to the window.
A cup clattered down on the tabletop in front of me and the waitress started to pour thick coffee into it. The dark brew splashed up the sides, warm chocolate creaminess swirling around the centre like a whirlpool, but I tried not to get my hopes up; looks can be deceiving.
‘And for your daughter?’ the waitress asked, her Southern Hintervale accent deep and rough as she worked her way around the glob of thornroot in her mouth. I could smell its sweet, sickly scene on her breath.
‘She’s… do you have any juice?’ It might be best for the girl that I did pretend she was mine, at least until I could find her real family – if she had any left that is.
The waitress chewed noisily as she looked down her nose at me. ‘Oranges, fresh in today. They’ll cost you a fair krysta.’
I very much doubted they were fresh, but oranges were rare in the lower levels of Castlepoint. My shardpurse weighed heavily in my hand.
‘I’m good for the crystal.’ I tapped a ruby shard against the table. The sight of it lit up her eyes in a way words never could.
The doorbell rang. The waitress sniffed loudly and turned away, returning to the bar with her pot of coffee. I took a sip from the cup and cringed. See, looks can be deceiving. It was nasty. Forcing myself to take another sip, I watched the man in a dark green trenchcoat sit at a table down the far end of the diner. The waitress walked over and poured him a coffee with the same disconsolate attitude she’d given me.
I flicked my gaze to the reflection in the window. Another man, dressed in the same style of trenchcoat sat a few tables behind us. No doubt they hid weapons beneath those coats. Secretly, so as not to draw attention to myself, I checked the sword where it sat next to me. Their attempts at being inconspicuous were as blatant as a teenage girl gushing all over her school crush on prom night, and they were too clean shaven, their hair kept tidy; not the type I’d expect to find in a rundown establishment the likes of Mertellie’s. I had picked this location for that very fact. Plans never work out as intended.
Once more the doorbell rang. I hid my smile behind the coffee cup. I could play this game, but first I had business to take care of. I peeked over the rim of the cup as Eli Wagner let the door slam shut behind him. The waitress stiffened and the trenchcoat men suddenly found a favourable liking to their coffees. The Blackcoat uniform Eli wore would do that. He took the benchseat across from me and the girl.
He leaned back in his seat, staring at me, his face set with a blank, cold expression. Eli only gave me that look when he wasn’t happy with me. Whatever it was that bothered him, he better let me in on it soon; I wasn’t in the mood for twenty questions tonight.
The waitress returned with the juice, reaching over me to place it in front of the girl. The kid didn’t even notice it, her eyes still fixed on the world outside the window. She didn’t even blink. Beams of light played across her face when a carriage pulled up outside the diner.
Eli tapped the table. The waitress glowered as she poured him a coffee. Turning her nose up at him, the woman retreated to the bar. Making me wait, testing my patience, he took a sip from his coffee and grimaced. He dropped the cup loudly onto the table. ‘That tastes like something my dear departed mother would make.’
I tried not to smile, but it wasn’t easy. The old battle-axe would be turning over in her grave.
‘Just what mess have you got yourself caught up in?’ Eli asked.
I arched an eyebrow at him.
Reaching beneath his heavy coat, he pulled free the paper I’d given him several days earlier and dropped it on the table, displaying the strange symbol drawn on it; a flame with a ring of stars around it, a pair of feathered wings stretching out from behind it. He pointed at the symbol. ‘As you requested, I showed this to Laci, that historian friend of mine.’
‘And?’ I asked, resting my arms on the table as I leaned forward.
‘She recognised it, that’s for sure.’
‘Does she know what it means?’
Eli sighed. ‘Whatever she knows about it, she intends to keep it to herself.’ He leaned forward, resting his own arms on the table and spoke quietly. ‘Look, Sera, whatever your interest in this is, now is the time to get out. This symbol frightened the hells out of Laci, and she isn’t one to be scared easily.’
I slumped back in my seat, letting out a breath. ‘I can’t do that.’ If I figured this out, it might well give me the answers I sought. My nature was a mystery to me, I wanted to know who I was and this was the only clue I had to go with. It was not something I could just walk away from, no matter what dangers it put me in.
* * *
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