R.T James
Furry Steampunk Street Urchin
Hello. This is the opening of my steampunk fantasy story.
I've had horrible times with critiques in the past. Most of them seemed to be focused on castrating any element of normal fantasy, as well as the POV I write in.
So if you say I need to set my story in Paris or London because it's steampunk, I respectfully ask that you don't critique this piece as such things aren't helpful.
I had another beginning to this thread but my phone copied the story twice. Groan the issues of working away from your computer and relying on a phone.
PS: I know grammar isn't my strong suit. Considering my educational background it's amazing I can count to three let alone write a full sentence half the time!
Enough meandering lets get thistrainwreck thread started
I can not stay in one place too long, as something bad always seems to happen.
Voron and I have a past together. That city runs deep in me. I run deep in it. A distant dance which usually ended up with more than a few stomped toes—I was just happy to leave her quietly. I was just happy there were no brawls or duels on my way out, or any other event that could result in a man ending up in a closed casket. I’ve stayed in Chaika for way too long. Going up north may be the best option for us both.
Living on the road is difficult. I have done it for years, but Ophelia is young. She should be out there kicking would be suitors between their legs and winning duels. Not travelling the Chaikan wilderness with a maniac she hardly knows, but Ophelia has stuck by me. I have given her numerous opportunities to abandon me and live a normal life, but for some reason she always stays.
I held up a black ring to the zeppelin’s window. The gold scroll designs were identical to something one would see etched onto a hunting rifle owned by royalty. It was paired to the ornate black collar Ophelia was wearing. The one which I acquired by signing a first edition copy of a book I wrote ages ago.
My mind reflected on what the shopkeeper said to me. That he hoped she felt the same way about me. The implications were high that were we together, but the thought was humorous at best. She was young and I was a relic from the past, an era left in dust only to be mentioned briefly in tomes and then instantly forgotten.
“Lost in thought Darko?” Ophelia’s voice startled me.
“Quite hard not to be”—I ferreted the ring back into the pocketed lining of my top hat— “look at the lovely view of the sky and the famous Gem of Chaika.” I always hated that travel brochure name for Voron, but I guess my idea of ‘Morons visiting Voron’ was not as palatable especially with fancy font and slapped on a pamphlet.
Ophelia was my recent traveling companion. Her white hair shoulder length and violet eyes showed a hint of softness that her abrasive personality often masked.
“Honestly, I can’t see how they could call it that,” Ophelia said, leaning on the polished aluminium railing beside me to also look down at the massive pentagon shaped city of brick we just left.
Sunlight hit me and I averted my eyes. A flash of green, red, and orange caught my attention. The fire opal on her collar was a Morgal variety, a fact I did not notice in the shop. Just looking at it made me feel homesick. What I would not trade to be able to recapture those happy days in my coastal nation, but that will never happen. Some things you are not allowed to relive no matter how hard you try. The past always seems to sneak up and stab you through the heart.
Ophelia snorted, adjusting her satchel. “It’s amazing you can actually see the whole god damn thing from up here.”
“Just think, there are a million people living in that city," I replied. Looking down at the angled glass that made up the passenger deck above the gondola just made the city seem that much bleaker. Voron was pretty up close, but from a far something about lipstick and a pig comes to mind, maybe a powdered wig and a splash of rouge for added effect.
Ophelia drove her knee high boot against the railing and began adjusting her laces. “The zeppelin station is the tallest thing there. Wasn’t it a clock tower or something else ridiculous? You jabbered on about it after getting us tickets.”
“It’s nice to know you were listening, but you are so lucky people can’t see the view you are displaying. Please refrain from doing that on… say a stairway, or a balcony perhaps since you are wearing a skirt.”
“If they want to look, they can look. I can see yeah eyeballing my clothes.” Ophelia dropped her boots from the railing and smacked off the dirt.
“Yes we need to get new soles put on your boots. How is your attire doing?” I said, noticing a tear in the arm pit of her grey aviator’s jacket I purchased for her a year ago.
“The pit tore again. You can sew it up again if really you want. I know this sh*t bothers you— being a former tailor and what not”— Ophelia reached into her bag and pulled out a newspaper she must have acquired from a bench at the station— “Any thoughts on this headline?”
“Curfew enforced onto The Points area,” I read aloud. “I think it is horrible.” Skip Morons visiting Voron. They are already have enough there. Morons running Voron. Some things never do change.
“You know I really do feel for the bonts, just all of th-“
A furry tail brushed past my leg and turned to see a black bont in a pastel yellow riding habit walking down the hallway with a matching broad brim sunhat as her head tilted at the sky. A sheer veil drifted over her fox like face. Her emerald eyes looking towards the sun while her hand-
“Aye-aye-aye!”—Ophelia’s snaps directed my attention back to reality—“You didn’t pay attention to me, but I can see you were focused on the subject matter in other ways.
“Don’t even think about running up to her with your dandyisms, and bowing down to spew romantic nothings. She would probably just slap you across the face. You look like a freaking homeless person, or a chimney sweep, or both—both is bad.”
“Why can you not wear clothes like that?”
“Because I don’t. Though I keep on seeing your gaze turn towards your yellow wearing bête noire. Hmm, thinking about slowly lifting up her tail? I bet she has an amazing giggle. God! Don’t break your fingers on the railing I am only razing you!”
“Yes, I shall confess I have a soft spot for the bonts, but I know of the oppression of which they held in the past! And furthermore it disgusts me to see Chaika using tax money to fund this idiotic notion!” I tore the paper right from her grasp. I was highly disappointed the infernal thing did not rip in half.
“Sorry”—Ophelia held up her hands defensively—“look your tastes are your tastes, but tell me one thing. Would you stick this thing on her if you could?” Ophelia tugged at her ornate collar.
I ignored Ophelia completely. I looked towards my ‘bête noire’ and watched her take the hand of a man in an emerald coat. She let out a wonderful laugh and followed him down into the gondola below. Sometimes the past bites hard.
“Did what I say really hurt you that badly?” Ophelia punched my shoulder. “If I am a bitch just call it out. Don’t go flying into your skull like that, geez!”
“So that is how your arm pit got ripped. It is from punching my shoulder.”
“Eh, sh*t happens”--Ophelia’s voice soften as she latched onto her stomach –”Hey Darko? Do you think we could get something warm to eat? I mean we haven’t eaten anything in like what… two days?”
“Sure, sounds like a decent enough plan.” One can never argue towards getting food. Well, that isn’t correct, somebody could always find a way to argue and complain about anything.
“You paying?” Ophelia crossed her arms.
“Nah, I was going to suggest that we dine and dash.”
Ophelia’s composure faltered. “Oh, that’s golden. I just imagine you diving out of a window.”
“Would not be the first time I fell off of a zeppelin.” nor the fifth, eighth or the twentieth time.
“Oh really? Did you fall or were you thrown out?”
I offered Ophelia my arm. “Oh, if we were to include being thrown out of a zeppelin now then...”
“How are you still kicking, you manic?” she asked, taking my arm.
“Luck my dear. Luck.”
“Some day that’s going to run out.” Ophelia let go of my arm spinning in a flourish before opening up the restaurant door for me.
“ Hey that is my job!”
“Pfft!” Ophelia took a bow with an arm extended out remarking, “Ladies first!”
I grumbled to myself before entering the restaurant. I had to give Ophelia some visual annoyance at her jab, it makes her happy.
I've had horrible times with critiques in the past. Most of them seemed to be focused on castrating any element of normal fantasy, as well as the POV I write in.
So if you say I need to set my story in Paris or London because it's steampunk, I respectfully ask that you don't critique this piece as such things aren't helpful.
I had another beginning to this thread but my phone copied the story twice. Groan the issues of working away from your computer and relying on a phone.
PS: I know grammar isn't my strong suit. Considering my educational background it's amazing I can count to three let alone write a full sentence half the time!
Enough meandering lets get this
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Aboard a zeppelin and leaving Voron – why does this all seem so familiar? Ophelia and I travelled as vagabonds across the countryside, only to arrive in the city and depart immediately. I can not stay in one place too long, as something bad always seems to happen.
Voron and I have a past together. That city runs deep in me. I run deep in it. A distant dance which usually ended up with more than a few stomped toes—I was just happy to leave her quietly. I was just happy there were no brawls or duels on my way out, or any other event that could result in a man ending up in a closed casket. I’ve stayed in Chaika for way too long. Going up north may be the best option for us both.
Living on the road is difficult. I have done it for years, but Ophelia is young. She should be out there kicking would be suitors between their legs and winning duels. Not travelling the Chaikan wilderness with a maniac she hardly knows, but Ophelia has stuck by me. I have given her numerous opportunities to abandon me and live a normal life, but for some reason she always stays.
I held up a black ring to the zeppelin’s window. The gold scroll designs were identical to something one would see etched onto a hunting rifle owned by royalty. It was paired to the ornate black collar Ophelia was wearing. The one which I acquired by signing a first edition copy of a book I wrote ages ago.
My mind reflected on what the shopkeeper said to me. That he hoped she felt the same way about me. The implications were high that were we together, but the thought was humorous at best. She was young and I was a relic from the past, an era left in dust only to be mentioned briefly in tomes and then instantly forgotten.
“Lost in thought Darko?” Ophelia’s voice startled me.
“Quite hard not to be”—I ferreted the ring back into the pocketed lining of my top hat— “look at the lovely view of the sky and the famous Gem of Chaika.” I always hated that travel brochure name for Voron, but I guess my idea of ‘Morons visiting Voron’ was not as palatable especially with fancy font and slapped on a pamphlet.
Ophelia was my recent traveling companion. Her white hair shoulder length and violet eyes showed a hint of softness that her abrasive personality often masked.
“Honestly, I can’t see how they could call it that,” Ophelia said, leaning on the polished aluminium railing beside me to also look down at the massive pentagon shaped city of brick we just left.
Sunlight hit me and I averted my eyes. A flash of green, red, and orange caught my attention. The fire opal on her collar was a Morgal variety, a fact I did not notice in the shop. Just looking at it made me feel homesick. What I would not trade to be able to recapture those happy days in my coastal nation, but that will never happen. Some things you are not allowed to relive no matter how hard you try. The past always seems to sneak up and stab you through the heart.
Ophelia snorted, adjusting her satchel. “It’s amazing you can actually see the whole god damn thing from up here.”
“Just think, there are a million people living in that city," I replied. Looking down at the angled glass that made up the passenger deck above the gondola just made the city seem that much bleaker. Voron was pretty up close, but from a far something about lipstick and a pig comes to mind, maybe a powdered wig and a splash of rouge for added effect.
Ophelia drove her knee high boot against the railing and began adjusting her laces. “The zeppelin station is the tallest thing there. Wasn’t it a clock tower or something else ridiculous? You jabbered on about it after getting us tickets.”
“It’s nice to know you were listening, but you are so lucky people can’t see the view you are displaying. Please refrain from doing that on… say a stairway, or a balcony perhaps since you are wearing a skirt.”
“If they want to look, they can look. I can see yeah eyeballing my clothes.” Ophelia dropped her boots from the railing and smacked off the dirt.
“Yes we need to get new soles put on your boots. How is your attire doing?” I said, noticing a tear in the arm pit of her grey aviator’s jacket I purchased for her a year ago.
“The pit tore again. You can sew it up again if really you want. I know this sh*t bothers you— being a former tailor and what not”— Ophelia reached into her bag and pulled out a newspaper she must have acquired from a bench at the station— “Any thoughts on this headline?”
“Curfew enforced onto The Points area,” I read aloud. “I think it is horrible.” Skip Morons visiting Voron. They are already have enough there. Morons running Voron. Some things never do change.
“You know I really do feel for the bonts, just all of th-“
A furry tail brushed past my leg and turned to see a black bont in a pastel yellow riding habit walking down the hallway with a matching broad brim sunhat as her head tilted at the sky. A sheer veil drifted over her fox like face. Her emerald eyes looking towards the sun while her hand-
“Aye-aye-aye!”—Ophelia’s snaps directed my attention back to reality—“You didn’t pay attention to me, but I can see you were focused on the subject matter in other ways.
“Don’t even think about running up to her with your dandyisms, and bowing down to spew romantic nothings. She would probably just slap you across the face. You look like a freaking homeless person, or a chimney sweep, or both—both is bad.”
“Why can you not wear clothes like that?”
“Because I don’t. Though I keep on seeing your gaze turn towards your yellow wearing bête noire. Hmm, thinking about slowly lifting up her tail? I bet she has an amazing giggle. God! Don’t break your fingers on the railing I am only razing you!”
“Yes, I shall confess I have a soft spot for the bonts, but I know of the oppression of which they held in the past! And furthermore it disgusts me to see Chaika using tax money to fund this idiotic notion!” I tore the paper right from her grasp. I was highly disappointed the infernal thing did not rip in half.
“Sorry”—Ophelia held up her hands defensively—“look your tastes are your tastes, but tell me one thing. Would you stick this thing on her if you could?” Ophelia tugged at her ornate collar.
I ignored Ophelia completely. I looked towards my ‘bête noire’ and watched her take the hand of a man in an emerald coat. She let out a wonderful laugh and followed him down into the gondola below. Sometimes the past bites hard.
“Did what I say really hurt you that badly?” Ophelia punched my shoulder. “If I am a bitch just call it out. Don’t go flying into your skull like that, geez!”
“So that is how your arm pit got ripped. It is from punching my shoulder.”
“Eh, sh*t happens”--Ophelia’s voice soften as she latched onto her stomach –”Hey Darko? Do you think we could get something warm to eat? I mean we haven’t eaten anything in like what… two days?”
“Sure, sounds like a decent enough plan.” One can never argue towards getting food. Well, that isn’t correct, somebody could always find a way to argue and complain about anything.
“You paying?” Ophelia crossed her arms.
“Nah, I was going to suggest that we dine and dash.”
Ophelia’s composure faltered. “Oh, that’s golden. I just imagine you diving out of a window.”
“Would not be the first time I fell off of a zeppelin.” nor the fifth, eighth or the twentieth time.
“Oh really? Did you fall or were you thrown out?”
I offered Ophelia my arm. “Oh, if we were to include being thrown out of a zeppelin now then...”
“How are you still kicking, you manic?” she asked, taking my arm.
“Luck my dear. Luck.”
“Some day that’s going to run out.” Ophelia let go of my arm spinning in a flourish before opening up the restaurant door for me.
“ Hey that is my job!”
“Pfft!” Ophelia took a bow with an arm extended out remarking, “Ladies first!”
I grumbled to myself before entering the restaurant. I had to give Ophelia some visual annoyance at her jab, it makes her happy.
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