On the Run (continued)

Hey-dee-hi, hi-dee-ho! C'est moi, that side-sleeper, back-sleeper, stomach-sleeper, pillow-armer, fortress-sleeper, crash-lander conundrum, Hannah!
Yes, few will understand, and yes, that is a sort of a sorry title up there. I couldn't think of a better one on the spur of the moment. If I ever continue this story I'll see if I can't get a bit more creative. In any case, here's the second part of that blurb I promised.


~|~

fatalementfatal.tumblr.com

The impact drove the breath from her, and her dagger bounced out of her hand. She was left on her back,

stunned, unarmed, and in pain.
Through the haze, Sofie saw three blurred figures approaching. One swore in a male voice, struggling to reload the crossbow.
“I won’t miss this time,” he snarled at his companion, pulling the string back.
Sofie forced herself to roll upright. She got on her feet as the crossbow clicked behind her.
“Got it,” the man muttered, raising it to eye level.
Breaking her pact not to look back, Sofie gazed straight at the man, backing against the net in fear. The moonlight glinted off the tip of the bolt. There seemed to be some gel-like substance coating the head.
Poison, Sofie’s subconscious guessed.
The man pulled the trigger, though Sofie didn’t remember hearing a sound. The bolt buried itself in her shoulder, deep in the muscle, flinging her backwards against the net. The woven trap under Sofie bore her smoothly to the ground. She lay there, unmoving, as the light flickered out in her mind.


Colter Serek had been waiting in his tree. So far no one had found him there, and he could keep an eye on the hunter’s activities unnoticed.
He had been sitting in the same position for the last hour, maybe longer. His legs were asleep. The only things that moved were his eyes - darting back and forth, taking in every movement and detail - and his fingers, drumming on his knee, only pausing when anything alive came into view.
Colter heard the tell-tale swish-swish of someone running through the woods. His fingers froze in mid-air.
A hundred-plus yards from the base of his tree, Colter saw a figure bounding over trees and branches with hardly a sound. The person didn’t slow as they sped toward the net-fence. Colter couldn’t help but wince as they ran into it at top speed and were flung backward onto the ground.
The figure recovered quickly, jumping to their feet. They looked around at the fence, then began to dig down at the base of the netting, squirming underneath the fence moments later.
He frowned. Who would go into the Hunter’s Haunt intentionally?
A moment later, the answer to his question came up panting along the same path the first person had arrived on. They stopped when they reached the net, obviously familiar with the trap. It looked like a big man, from what Colter could see. The man went along the length of the fence someways, then slipped in through a hidden entrance.
Colter switched back to the first figure in time to see them break cover and dart over to the opposite fence line.
Inwardly, he sighed. It would have been safer to stay among the old barrels.
He watched as the old cabin’s door opened. Three people came out, a lantern in hand. The person digging at the fence froze. Then they jumped up, clawing at the net like a wild animal and trying to climb out.
One of the hunters fired a bolt at the figure, dropping them to the ground. He started to load another bolt, and Colter was surprised to see the figure jump up again and turn to face them. The hunter fired again. The figure fell back against the net, then slipped to the ground.
Colter saw the hunters kick the body, but it didn’t move again. Finally the one with the crossbow bent over and snapped off the now-useless shaft of the old bolt. The three hunters went back into their cabin, leaving the body sprawled on the ground.
Colter closed his eyes. So passes another victim, he thought.
A light mist began to fall. Colter raised a palm to the gentle rain and sighed. He stretched his legs and climbed down from the tree, landing silently on the ground.
Time to go home.
He turned to trudge away, then cast a final glance back at the fallen figure. In his culture, it was a grave dishonor to leave a body unburied. Letting a fallen person decay in the open was the ultimate insult.
Colter let out a breath. He might as well bury them, whoever they were.

He had to move quietly, and slowly. If the hunters saw him, it was all over. The dirt under his feet was turning to mud, and he knelt next to the fence, careful not to slip.
Unsheathing his dagger, he slit the netting and went into the Hunter’s Haunt, walking as lightly as the elves of legend.
Crouching next to the fallen body, Colter was shocked to see the long hair and delicate features. Even among the blood and dirt, he could tell that it was a girl. Probably younger than him by a few years. He felt a surge of anger against the hunters. Their cruelty had reached an all-time low.
Gritting his teeth, Colter sheathed his dagger and took the girl’s arm. He pressed two fingers to the inside of her wrist.
No pulse, he thought grimly. He muttered something under his breath about the lineage of the hunters.
Wait.
Colter’s eyes widened. There was a pulse, faint, but steady. Quickly he put a hand above the girl’s nose and mouth, where he could feel her breath on his skin.
She was alive.


Sofie was having a nightmare. She was lying on an infirmary table. It was cold under her back.
As she lay there, a stylus appeared over her head. It was the kind you wrote with, only it looked metal. No one was holding it, but it floated down and stabbed into her shoulder.
Instant pain flooded her body. She tried to scream and pull away, but something was holding her down, and her voice seemed to have deserted her.
In her shoulder the stylus twisted and dug around, tearing the muscle. Then on it’s own accord, it burst into flame.
Sofie’s hand was loose; she clawed at her shoulder. Her insides were on fire. The flame spread onto her left hand, shooting down her fingers, devouring her as easily as dry paper.

She jerked awake with a gasp. The fire in her arm had died away. It was just throbbing dully now.
Sofie looked around. Where am I? At first, she was dazed from sleep, but then she realized she really didn’t recognize her surroundings. It looked like she was in some shelter, a temporary outdoor construction. The ground was cold against her back, bringing the image of the infirmary table to her mind again.
Someone knelt a few feet away, their back to her.
Without thinking, Sofie sat up, grabbing for her dagger.
Immediately, the fire reignited in her shoulder, her fingers closed over empty air. Her dagger was gone. The effort made her arm feel like it was being torn from its socket.
The kneeling person turned and saw Sofie, catching her before she fell back again, hurriedly clamping a hand over her mouth.
“Don’t scream,” he hissed.
Sofie’s eyes grew big. He - because she realized it was a boy - lowered her back down to the ground, and after a warning look, took his hand off her mouth.
She didn’t scream, or make any noise, so he turned back to whatever he had been doing. Sofie watched him. Whoever he was, he didn’t look much older than her. A little older, definitely, maybe seventeen. He had dark hair, cut a bit long, but it was brushed out of his eyes, which were as dark as his hair. His skin was a pale brown, like one of his parents had had dark skin, but the other hadn’t.
“What am I doing here?” she whispered, suddenly noticing how dry her throat was.
The boy turned, handing  her a glass of water. He propped her up and helped her drink. “I saw what happened to you in Hunter’s Haunt.”
“In what?”
“That fenced-in place. Haven’t you heard of it?”
Sofie shook her head. “And you got me out?” she asked hesitantly.

~|~


Well, that's all I've got. What do you think? And also, don't forget to check out this Pinterest board, and pick a numbered picture for us to do a creative writing on!

Sosrin God ignt eht ceallian,
(To God be the Glory)
Hannah

The Prodigal Blogger Returns (AKA, Hannah's Back)

Long time, no see, me mateys! 'tis I, the bold and blue, slightly crazed and true Hannah. How be thou?

It's been a long, long, long, long, long time since I last posted. A grand total of... what, 65 days? Well, I am taking a short break from my hermitage, since I was flipping through one of my old notebooks recently and found a presentable snippet from a story I began sometime ago.
This is part one, since it was so long. I do not really know anything of the background of the story. It was inspired by a nerve-wracking dream I had, and I didn't much bother to flesh out the whole tale, just started writing (well, I spent a good twenty minutes picking out character names, but anyway).

~|~

ezraezra.tumblr.com

Sofie’s heart was pounding so hard she would later wonder how only a few layers of skin, bones and muscle could keep it in place.
At the moment, all she could think was, Run!

Sofie didn’t know what on earth was going on. Just that two men were chasing her, she had no idea where she was, and somewhere along the way she had lost Tryne. Where her sister was now, she didn’t know, but for the moment, it seemed that one of the men chasing after her had disappeared. Only the big one was left.
She was grateful for her dark clothing that blended into the woods in the semi-twilight. Unfortunately, the other man was also wearing some sort of camouflage, and she only knew where he was half the time. For a big man, he was pretty quiet.

Sofie’s boots skidded as she burst out of the woods. There was a small country road separating her from the next patch of forest. She was faced with the split-second decision of following the road or diving into the woods.
Cover, her brain said. She jumped into motion and crossed the dusty road, jumping over an overturned tree to get deep into the woods. She stopped, hunkered down and watched to see if the big man would turn up.
She was not disappointed. Hardly ten seconds later, before her heart had a chance to slow down to a less painful pace, a hulking figure skidded out of the woods. His shoes kicked up a cloud of dust as he stopped. He took a brief glance up and down the road, then barreled straight across the road toward her hiding place.
Sofie’s brain threw up a half-dozen curse words to fit the predicament, none of which she wasted breath on. She jumped up, on the run again.
There was no way she could outrun this man. The stitch in her side was hampering her breathing. Trickery was the only way to escape, but she was completely unfamiliar with this neck of the woods and the half-mile of trees that had proceeded it.
Dodging around a cluster of oaks and plowing through a thorn patch, Sofie ignored the pain from the odd branches slapping her in the face. Or the inch-long thorns tearing bloody gashes into her legs.

Suddenly she ran into something elastic, slamming into it full-force, It stopped her momentum easily, flinging her onto her backside.
Sofie shook her head, dazed, and looked up to see a net, like a fishing net, stretching up above her head. It was nearly invisible in the dark.
She scrambled to her feet. Had the two men set it earlier to trap her? It looked old, and through the mist, in the dark, it stretched as far as she could see in both directions.
Sofie heard branches snapping behind her, and without pausing to glance back, began to dig under the net. Her formerly well-manicured nails filled with dirt, but she barely noticed. Her fingers pushed under the net and she was grabbing the woven, pushing herself underneath.
She was out.
Or in, she realized, looking around. There was an old building nearby and several large barrels stacked beside it. Sofie squashed herself behind the barrels for temporary cover.
The net had seemed to be a fence of some sort - to keep something in, or out. She pressed herself against the rough wall of the building. This hiding place wouldn’t last long.
Casting a look around, she saw another net-fence not ten yards away. She dashed across the yard and started to dig, but got an unpleasant surprise as a beam of light hit her from behind, casting her shadow several feet in front of her.
A moment later, there was the familiar crank and click sound of a crossbow being loaded.

The past couple days of being chased had taught Sofie a few things. One was that you couldn’t look back. It was safer to always assume that the hunters were right behind you. Looking back wasted valuable escape time, and if you happened to see what you were up against, it usually scared the chutzpah out of you.
So instead of facing whatever it was behind her, Sofie decided to do something unexpected. Probably ineffective, but it might buy her a few more hours of life.
Already crouching, Sofie tensed her leg muscles and jumped straight up. She grabbed the net and started to climb. If she couldn’t go under, she’d go over. It’s harder to hit a moving target, after all.
Sofie’s hand tangled in the net, and she could hear shouting down below. But she just yanked her hands free, one at a time.
I’m almost at the top, she thought, preparing to swing a leg over the net and drop to the ground.
Her head snagged on something overhead, and she looked up.
In the moonlight, she could see a second net - stretching overhead like a roof. Or a lid on a jar.
No. No, no, I’m trapped! 
Heart beating wildly, Sofie twined her left fingers in the net and grabbed her dagger, slicing at the netting.
Just a hole that’s big enough! Give me time, she pleaded.
Something whistled past her ear, and not a second later, fire seemed to spread though her left hand. The one that she need to hang on with. Sofie almost fell, but the netting caught around her wrist and she dangled for a moment.
Her left hand was all pain, and through a haze she saw a crossbow bolt sticking in it. All the way through. The netting couldn’t support her any more. The fibers slipped over her wrist, snapped the wooden bolt out of her hand, and let her fall to the ground.

~|~

What think you? I am wondering if it would be worth the trouble to go any deeper. Feedback is fantastaboulistic. Or well-appreciated, at least. I have a second part to put up later, once I've finished typing it down and doing a tiny bit of editing.
Au revoir!



Sosrin God ignt eht ceallian,
(To God be the Glory)
Hannah

More Random Blurbs

The majority of the writing I've been doing recently is just in my 642 Things book, so here's some more of what I've done lately.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

It was the first time he had ever gotten into a fight, and it was in ___________ of all places:

It was the first time he had ever gotten into a fight, and it was in front of the recruiting office, of all places. Two officers pulled them apart. The other guy had a split lip and a bloody nose. Eyrik had not fared so well. He was dragged into the supervising recruiter's office, where he stood in front of the desk silently. 

"You picked a fight with one of my men." The supervisor stated.

"That's a lie." Eyrik didn't offer any further explanation.

The supervisor raised an eyebrow. "Are you aware that Private Gavin is twenty-three years old, 
and weighs 254 pounds?"

Eyrik swiped at the corner of his mouth and looked at the blood on his hand. "Just his fist, or does that include the rest of him?"

The supervisor leaned back and studied him. "How old are you, boy?"

Eyrik looked him in the eye. "Eighteen."

The supervisor laughed. "With a little training, you could make a talented liar. Now, truthfully, how old are you? Thirteen?"

"Fifteen!" Eyrik snapped, insulted.

With a grin of satisfaction, he asked, "Do you know how many men have taken on Gavin and lived to tell the tale?"

"None of the dead ones."

The humor drained from the room almost instantly. 

The supervisor leaned toward him and barked, "Quit playing with me, boy! From now on, you work for me and you'll answer my questions straight!"

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Note: This actually includes one of my characters from my story Aouthentica, Eyrik Duell. I've always wanted to explore his backstory a little more deeply, so I made him fifteen (he's twenty-one in the book) and put him in a fight, because I have no doubt he started fighting early. I may actually expand this one at some point.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

You wake up by the side of the road lying next to a bicycle, with no memory, and no wallet. What happens in the next hour?:

*Where am I?* I surveyed my surroundings, prompted by some unknown instinct. Empty highway. On my side is grass, trees, and the sound of water. On the opposite side is barren desert as far as I can see. There also seems to be vicious windstorm, which I can't hear, but what else could be kicking up so much dust and sand? The bicycle is next to me. It looks wrong laying sideways in the notably lush grass. I picked it up and felt a strange urge to sit on it, so I swung a leg over and did. 

     A few seconds later found me traveling down the highway slowly, watching the strange environment for any kind of change. The only difference I found was when the highway inexplicably disappeared. I stopped pedaling, tottered, then fell over, smacking my forehead against the asphalt quite soundly.

*Run, Anthea, run!* 

      A voice, shouting. A memory. A single memory, and that just a voice. I still wasn't even sure if Anthea was my name, or someone else's name. Maybe... maybe that was my voice. It gave me a headache just to think about it. 

     Though it may have been the rapidly developing knot on the front of my head. I decided the bicyclewas too risky to continue using, so I walked to the end of the road on bare feet, which I only now realized. The biomes were still divided, but met in a blurred line.

     I cautiously stepped off the road with one foot. Sandy grass. Odd, yet not unpleasant. I stepped off entirely. 

     Sights, smells, sounds and sensations hit me, overloading my sense. I stumbled backwards onto the pavement and they stopped. My brain was working overtime, sorting everything out like a puzzle. Tentatively, I stepped off again. The visions hit harder this time, driving me to my knees and embedding themselves in my mind. 

     By the time I got back to the pavement, I was sure of two things: They were memories, and they weren't mine.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Something I've noticed as I write blurbs and creative writings is that I tend to start out writing in first person, but when I start writing longer stories, like my novels, I usually write in third person. Odd, huh?

Sé onr sverdar sitja hvass!
-Trinity

Random Blurb

My mom bought this really neat book for my siblings, called 642 Things To Draw. On each page it has one or two ideas for things to sketch out. It's pretty neat, but I'm not the artsy type.

Then she got 642 Things To Write About. It's awesome. 

Some of the ideas included are:
1. Find a short story you haven't read yet. Read the first two-thirds. Then pick up the story where it leaves off, and write it's end.
2. Write about two characters who have known each other for a long time, and give one of them a secret.
3. Start a story with the line "My mother broke every plate in the house that day."
4. Write ten sayings for fortune cookies.
5. You can only keep one memory from your entire life. What will it be?

So every once in a while I pick it up and write a little blurb, some of which may make it up here, and some may not.
Anyhooo... Here's one I wrote 7/3/13 (which I know because I date each one when I finish them). Actually, it's kind of two prompts, but they relate back to each other, which makes it one blurb. If that makes any sense. Oh, and one last thing. Please keep in mind that I wrote this at about 11:00 pm.



Start a story with: "This is what she wants most in the world."

"This is what she wants most in the world." The hawk-nosed warden slapped a flash drive down on the rickety table. "I asked her."

I snorted. "What's on it?"

"The missile plans. Our own, of course." He smiled as if he had just discovered cheese single-handedly. "She'll sing like a bird if we offer her these."

"Really." I wasn't even close to being convinced. "The girl who hacked your prison server in thirty seconds will spill her guts for a few missile plans she could sell on the black market in five minutes if you gave her a computer? You forget I worked undercover with her.



After the above prompt, try this: "She is lying. This is what she wants most in the world."

I shook my head and leaned forward. "She is lying. This is what she wants most in the world: Out."

"Out?" The warden repeated. "Out of prison? Ain't happening."

"No, you dolt." I growled. "Out of this life. A fresh start; a new identity. Offer to wipe her record, set her up with a new name and never bother her again. If she goes for anything, she'll go for that. If not, you can always take her to the basement."

He frowned. "I ain't entirely comfortable with the facilities down there."

"I didn't ask if you were comfortable!" I shouted. "This is a prison, not a resort! I need that information. I don't care if you bribe her or take her to the basement and peel her like a grape. Make her talk!"


Welp. That's it. I'll probably put some more up before too long.


Sé onr sverdar sitja hvass!
-Trinity

Blurbs: Young Liza

http://dahliart.jp/

So I was thinking I wanted to do a sort of creative writing thing (which is surprisingly difficult when you have to assign yourself pictures), and then I came across this picture which reminded me of one of my characters from Aouthentica, Liza Vulken, though a bit younger.

Liza worked for the previous king when she was about Rienna's age (nineteen), and over the years (she's nearing forty now) she's become a very silent, withdrawn, strict person, like this. It's very rare to see her smile. But I imagine that when she was younger she was more innocent and easy-going, though not nearly as easy-going as Rienna is. It's kind of fascinating me right now, imagining her younger, so I'm gonna write a little blurb about her.

Liza closed her eyes and steadily counted to three. On three, she dropped to the floor as a wooden beam flashed out at the place where her head had been seconds before. She rolled over and drew her gun, firing at the red target three times and the blue one five times. Each shot went through the same hole in the exact center. Then she shot the steel plate that trigger the second phase of the exercise. 

She scrambled to her feet and the ground beneath her dropped down, taking her with it. She took the brief respite to switch mags, then she was on the second floor. 

There were four hallways on each side of her. A dummy popped out at the end of the hall in front of her and sped toward her on a track. Liza fired at it several times, but failed to hit the stop target, which was in the head, not the torso. 

She quickly corrected herself, but before she could get off another shot, something slammed into her from behind: The second dummy, which she had completely forgotten about. 

She found herself on the floor a few feet away, staring up at the ceiling and gasping for breath. A voice came through her headset.

"This is a recurring problem, Ms. Vulken, and it could affect your grade."

Liza pushed herself up and croaked, "I'm sorry, ma'am. I didn't realize the stop targets had been moved."

"You failed to scan your surroundings." Captain Nahtey said sternly. "That is always the first step. Observe, Orient, Decide, Act. Not Orient, Act."

"I know the OODA loop sequence." Liza replied through gritted teeth, getting to her feet and holstering her gun. 

"Then follow it!" The captain snapped. "If I graduated you now you'd be a dead woman walking."

Liza knew enough not to say anything other than, "Yes, ma'am."

There was silence over the radio for a few moments, and she began to wonder if the phase had been reset. 

Then the captain said in a very formal tone, "There's someone here to see you, Ms. Vulken."

Liza closed her eyes and groaned inwardly. She knew who it was. And she could only hope he hadn't seen her mistake. 

"I'll be there in a moment." 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Liza stopped in front of the door to the training observation room and ran her fingers through her hair, hoping it wasn't too messed up. Then she took a deep breath and entered the room. It was rather gloomy, the only light coming from twenty or thirty television screens on the wall. She realized that they were all playing back various clips of her training exercises from her last year at Imea House. Captain Nahtey was sitting at her desk, silhouetted by the screens, and next to her was just the man Liza didn't want to see.

He turned and grinned at her. "That was quite a hit you took."

Liza didn't answer, trying not to glare at him.

Captain Nahtey turned and stood. "Ms. Vulken, this is Arron Vitez, personal assistant to the King."

"A pleasure, I'm sure." Liza said tightly, shaking his hand.

"Oh, the pleasure's all mine." He gave her an impudent, too-familiar wink.

Liza shook her head slightly to warn him off.

"I'm here to find another recruit for the king's personal task force." Arron said, gesturing to the screens. "Captain Nahtey was kind enough to help me review your training sessions, and I think you might be the one."

She met and held his gaze for a long minute, then said, "I don't want the position."

Arron just smiled.

"Ms. Vulken, this position would take you above and beyond anything we can teach here at Imea." The captain advised. "I highly recommend that you accept it."

"I don't want it." She repeated firmly. "Now, may I be dismissed?"

"No." Arron looked entirely too amused. "This isn't an option. You've been recruited."

Liza stared at him in disbelief, then let out a frustrated sigh. 

Arron looked to the captain. "If I might have a moment to speak with... Ms. Vulken?"

The captain nodded and stepped around them, letting in a flood of light as she went through the door. As soon as it shut again, Liza whirled on Arron.

"Why are you doing this to me?!"

He frowned and folded his arms across his chest. "The captain's right. Working for the king will take farther than anything Imea House has to offer. You should be glad you were chosen."

Liza clenched her fists. "Why was I chosen? I'm not the top of my class. I'm not even near the top."

Arron glanced down at the floor, then looked her in the eye. "We need people we can trust. And I trust you."

"Well, I don't trust you." She shot back.

He groaned. "You're still upset about the prank I played on you?"

"I nearly drowned!" Liza shouted. "Just because you were about to graduate and I was a freshman didn't mean you could use me like a lab rat!" 

"Alright, I made some miscalculations." He admitted. "But you survived."

"No thanks to you. Find someone else to be your recruit. I won't do it." 

"You don't have a choice." Arron pulled a card out of his pocket and gave it to her. "That's my I.D. It says I work directly for the king. That makes you my subordinate and as such, you're required to follow my orders."

Liza glowered at the card for a long moment. "I'll get to keep training?"

"You'll get better training." He promised.

She sighed heavily, then flicked the card back at him. "Fine. I still don't trust you though."

Arron leaned over and picked the card up. "You'll have to sooner or later." 

"Is that a threat?"

"No. It's a warning." He tucked his I.D. into his back pocket. "Look, Liza. I realize you consider me to be..."

"Brash?"

"Yes, and maybe a little..."

"Cocky?"

"Okay, yeah, but I was thinking more..."

"Reckless? Thoughtless? Arrogant? Hotheaded?"

Arron raised an eyebrow. "Are you finished?"

"No, but I'll stop anyway."

"I realize you consider me to be your nemesis, but it looks like we're going to be working together quite a bit and unless we trust each other someone's going to get hurt." He offered his hand. "Truce?"

After a moment's thought, she nodded and took his hand. "Truce."

"Excellent." His roguish grin was back immediately, and he pulled out a small invitation, which he handed her. "You'll be expected in Aryeh tomorrow morning. General Talman Perdant will be visiting and the king's throwing another one of his dinner dance things. The times are on your invitation. You'll be presented and introduced to him there. See you then."

As he turned to go, she asked, "I'll be presented to the General?"

"No, the king." Arron frowned and said seriously, "You'll be directly under me, and I'm directly under him. In no way whatsoever will you be under the General's command." 

"I understand." She nodded again. 

"And one last thing. It's a formal ball, and you'll be going as my consort, so uh... see if you can't dress yourself up a little." 

Liza's cheeks flushed. "I'll see what I can do."

That's it for now. I might add some more later if I get some ideas.

Sé onr sverdar sitja hvass!
-Trinity

Snippets and Nonsense

It'sa Hannah.

How are all ya'll?

On a normal day it takes about, oh, a hour to write a post, at the least. I don’t know, am I slow? I usually write a bunch of little talkity things while I decide what the subject is going to be. Sometimes the subject I want to write about is pretty clear, sometimes not so much. So now I’m just going jump into a river of pretty nonsensical nonsense. (Nonsensical nonsense makes more sense than nonsensical sense. Or maybe it makes less sense. Fewer senses? I don’t know.)

By the way, thanks for the encouragement about Orphna’s Tale. I suddenly got super excited about it and began writing again. And it’s been spectacular fun! Creativity, I know, comes from restrictions, but there is also a lot of fun in writing without so many boundaries on everything. Like my characters from the Eyra Chronicles. They are (at least to me) a world apart from the Orphna characters. For instance, Armen (an elf who I have not gotten around to telling you all about), he’s serious. Almost all the time. He doesn’t usually make jokes, but when he does they are pretty subtle. Not recommended for idiots.
But then I started working on Xren! Wooooowwww… that is so fun. He is a fun, talkative, playful guy… and I’ve only written, at most, four pages with him! There is a big difference. When looking at Pinterest for picture inspiration, I see a picture of this guy and girl chatting. I think, “Oh, that could be Armen and Lina, they’re good friends… but no, wait, the guy is slouching. Nothing like Armen. He’s very proper.
“But wait! Xren doesn’t care! Yay! I can use this!” And I do a little happy dance in my writing chair.
I know, it’s weird to get happy over things like that. But to me, my characters are just so fabulous! I love the little differences between characters, it just makes it seem more real to me, as opposed to having a bunch of clone-like people all acting the same way.


So anyway, a little section of my more recent try:

The banging on the castle doors was muffled now that they were in the upper rooms, but it still echoed ominously in the distance.

The queen pulled her counsel into a side room, and decided to get right to it, talking quickly.
“I don’t believe they can be made to see sense. It’s gone too far; it’s dangerous now.”
Five pairs of eyes met her gaze. “What are you trying to say?” Arsha asked with a frown.
“I’m not going to let you be killed for my sake,” the queen said in a low voice.
“It would only be an honor, Your Majesty,” Xren, the soldier, said quietly.
“No!” argued Losila tightly. “I would rather have you live and fight than sacrifice yourself. I am leaving, with what is left of my entourage. You all have a choice.”
The counsel members exchanged glances, then regarded their queen with guarded interest.
“There is a back way,” she said softly. “Arsha knows where it is. I would have you all go now, escape into the woods, and stay there until the uprising dies down, or until you are forgotten.”
“You’d have us run,” objected Mylenda Linley.
“Yes, I would,” said Losila. “Take your families and leave.”
“What about you?” asked Kiake anxiously.
“I will be fine. Though I will need a companion on my own journey.”
“I’ll go, Your Highness,” said Arsha automatically.
“No.” The queen set a hand on her shoulder. “You need to be a leader.”
Arsha frowned, looking almost hurt. Undiro stepped forward. “I will go, Your Majesty.”
“You have a family, Undiro, you can’t leave them.”
“If Your Majesty says the word– ”
“I don’t. Stay.”
Mylenda straightened. “Then I will go.”
Losila looked at Mylenda, concern furrowing her brow, but she sighed. “All right. You may.”


Shouts came from the below levels, along with a resounding boom as the palace doors gave way.
Kiake ran to the window and called, “The courtyard is emptying. They’re inside!”
“Go, now,” Queen Losila shouted, and she and Mylenda disappeared through a side door.
The remaining counsel members looked at each other.
“My wife and daughter,” said Undiro.
Arsha snapped to reality. “Go, then, get them. Kiake, go with him.” Undiro was already out the door, in spite of his age, and Kiake nodded acknowledgement and bounded after him.
“Don’t take anything but the absolute necessary!” Arsha called after them, then turned to Xren. “Get my sword.”
“Are you going to run in a dress?” he asked, retrieving the weapon from a nearby drawer.
“I guess so,” she said flatly, slipping something from a shelf into her pocket.
“What was that?” asked Xren.
“Hush,” said Arsha. “Head for the second counsel room, and see if you can’t get Kiake and Undiro on the way.” She took her sword from him and went out the door.


Arsha reached the staircase and stopped as she saw the foot of the flight crowded with torch-bearing men. “Xren, change of plans. Get over here.”
He appeared at her shoulder. “Blast,” he cursed.
“They’re just local people. Should we try to force our way through?”
“Let’s not turn this into a debate,” suggested Xren, turning and running nimbly down the opposite staircase, which was less crowded. As a man approached with a pitchfork, Xren batted him away with the hilt of his sword and glanced up to see if Arsha was coming.
Arsha gritted her teeth, and throwing a glance over her shoulder, hiked up her skirts and followed, sword in hand. A peasant dove at her with a crude scythe of some sort, and she deflected the blade, stepping to the side and bringing the sword down on the man’s back. It slid through his body easily.
She swallowed to resist gagging, and dispatched the next man, making her way towards Xren.
“Come on,” the counsel-man said. He had done a neat job in clearing the staircase, but more locals were moving around toward them.
“Second counsel room,” Arsha reminded. “You go, I’ll hold them off.”
“Not going to happen,” Xren said calmly.
She threw him a glare. “Make sure that Kiake and the Meriweathers get out.”
“That’s not going to happen,” repeated Xren. “Only you know where the exit is.”
Arsha growled and ducked into the corridor. He followed, right on her heels. 

Okay, yeah, that wasn’t a little section, it was kind of a big one. And to clarify. This may not be the same with you guys, but our parents don’t want us to write romance stories. So people in our books might like each other, but we’re not going to get all into that. As a basic rule, it’s probably safer to assume that a guy-girl couple in our books are just friends, unless otherwise indicated. Please go ahead and tell me if this is corny, I can take it. If there is a problem in… oh, grammar, spelling, plot, believability, feedback is welcome.

Oh, one more thing. What did you think of that cover up there? That's the original. The black background is my 10-year-old work with pastels, and the rest of it is courtesy of Trinity's 12-year-old Photoshop skills. Pretty good, considering. But for this post, I decided to revamp it.

And no, I don't own any of the pictures in this cover. In fact, I have no idea who they belong to. Some kinks will have to be worked out if I ever want to publish the book with this cover.

Blurbs: Rienna and Jrew

Trinity here!
It's been a while since I posted anything writer-ly, but I did write something recently about my two of my three favorite characters, Rienna Lee and Anjrew Arion.
They're from my Aouthentica novel that I've been working on since 2007-ish. They're also the very first characters I ever wrote in, and the first characters I wrote with any depth. It's also my only novel that is not set in a fantasy, dystopian, or middle-age type of setting. They've got guns and cell phones and whatnot.
Rienna's nineteen, and has no clue who her birth parents are, though she's pretty sure they're deceased. She was adopted by Liza, another character, so she's kind of got a mother.
Jrew's twenty-one (That's what everyone calls him, though his full name is Anjrew) is heir to the throne of Aouthentica, but is currently living in the refuge city of Milliayn in a neighboring country because his uncle (the last king) and his parents (the prince and princess) were killed in an uprising by one of the generals.
I really ought to write out the whole story for a post soon. It's very interesting (to me anyway), as well as long and involved. Plus, it would be good for me to have a complete synopsis written out for future reference.
In any case, Jrew and Rienna have been best friends since she was two and he was four, and she blew out the candles on his cake and they both burst into tears. They're more like brother and sister than best friends really. And just for clarification, there is absolutely nothing more to their relationship.
So, here's my blurb for them, which I wrote while pondering how the two would greet each other after being parted under various circumstances. Sometimes Jrew would just chew her out for almost getting herself killed, and other times he'd be absolutely frantic. He's kind of a worry-wart like that.
Then I thought what Rienna would be like if Jrew went off on a long trip and what her reaction would be like when he came back, and this is what I got.
It also surprised me how easily their dialogue came, and then I realized that of all the characters I've brought to life, I know Jrew, Rienna, and their friend Eyrik the best. Like, I know their brains inside and out. I wish I knew all my characters like that. It would make it so much easier to write. Of course, I've also put Rienna through all sorts of horrible things in my many blurbs, so I think that helped me develop her character a little more. (That and I've known her for nearly six years now.)
Okay, NOW here's my blurb:

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Jrew shifted his duffel bag to hang behind him and began to fumble with his keys. He finally found the right one and inserted it in the doorknob. It clicked faintly as it unlocked, making him smile with relief. It was good to be home.

He pushed the door open, picked up his other suitcase and went into the kitchen. Dropping his bags on the floor, he flicked the light on and opened the fridge to see if anything was still good after his trip.

A dull thud came from the other room. Jrew straightened and frowned. There wasn't supposed to be anyone else in his apartment. He shut the fridge quietly and turned to face the rest of the house. Footsteps were approaching rapidly. Suddenly a figure clad in all black turned the corner. Jrew pulled his gun, placing the red dot sight on the intruder's chest.

"Jrew!" Rienna shrieked, completely ignoring the gun as she launched herself at him.

"Oof!" Jrew took two full steps backwards before putting his free arm around her. "Holy- Ri, I almost shot you."

"Did you just get back?" She asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Yeah. Crossed the border about ten minutes ago. What are you doing here?"

Rienna pulled back to give him an offended look.

He grinned. "No, I'm glad to see you and all, but how did you get in? And what are you doing here? It's three in the morning!"

She smiled sheepishly. "Cerra said you'd be back any day now, and I didn't want to miss you if you came in late, so I started staying over in my room."

Jrew extracted himself from her tenacious hug and gave her a push towards the kitchen table, saying, "That's not your room, it's the guest bedroom."

"I'm the only one that ever sleeps in it, and all the stuff in there is mine." She argued. "Oh, and we're out of shampoo."

Jrew looked away from making himself a sandwich. "I bought a new bottle before I left. You used it up already? How many days have you been staying here?"

Rienna picked an apple out of the fruit bowl in the middle of the table before answering, "Three nights."

"You do realize your apartment is just across the way?" He reminded her, bringing his sandwich to the table. "And that this one is actually mine?"

Rienna didn't look up from polishing her apple on her sleeve. "Are you saying you don't want me here?"

"Yes. Wait, no. Oh, forget it!" Jrew groaned and started in on his sandwich.

Rienna bit into her apple, froze, then yanked it away. "Bleah! It's fake!"

Jrew grinned and swallowed. "I was wondering if you were actually going to try to eat it."

"You knew?" She threw the apple at him and it bounced harmlessly off his shoulder. "You could've told me."

"I thought you knew." He shrugged, taking another bite.

They sat in silence until Jrew finished his snack, then he stretched and said, "You should get back to bed, Ri. I'm gonna do a little unpacking and hit the sack myself."

"Do you mind if I stay up with you?" She asked hopefully.

Jrew stretched and put his hands behind his head. "I'm only going to be up for ten more minutes, and I'm just gonna be getting out my toothbrush and stuff. Go ahead and go back to bed. I'll still be here in the morning."

She sighed and got up. "All right. You promise we can talk in the morning?"

"Yes, I promise." He got up and gave her another hug. "Incidentally, what did you knock over when I first got here?"

Rienna's face went a little red. "Nothing. I fell out of bed."

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

And that's all I've got for them right now. I hope that gives you a bit of a better idea about their relationship and personality. You'll probably being hearing more about them soon. But no promises, 'cause you know how bad I am about posting what I say I might post.



Sé onr sverdar sitja hvass!
-Trinity

A Bit Of Writing

I have been inwardly debating whether to post some of my own writing or not. The major issue is that I hardly have enough suitable material to show y'all. I should be doing writing right now, for instance, to see if I can't change that.
Oh, hey, by the way, se trata de Hannah. It's me again. Been busy, busy, busy during the holidays, but we're back. So there oughta be more posts in the next few... whiles... 'cause we're planning on starting to schedule posts to, well, post themselves on a normal basis. Semi-normal. Maybe.
But for the meantime, I'm looking through my files for suitable, at-least-slightly-interesting text that I might be able to put on here.

Also, there's a tiny itty-bitty problem. The story I'm writing actually has my real-life friend as the star, and I don't think it would a wonderfully brilliant idea to go writing about her life, real or fantasy, on the Internet, so if I put anything on here, it will probably have to be edited quite a bit.

But.............. for the mean-time, again, because I realize I've already said that, I'll put this tiny thing on here, and you can tell me what you think if you like (you too, Trinity, since you don't usually get to read this stuff, though you've frequently attacked my files with intent to devour).

Now, for explanity-stuff (explanatory whatevers - I am currently having grammar problems), this thing here is a dream the main character is having. It might be a bit dramatic, but seriously, I'd like some honest constructive criticism.

*WARNING* The following text has not been thoroughly edited. Spelling, grammar, and storyline mistakes may occur. You may alert the writer to the last two of these if you wish (she can handle her own spelling mistakes, though apparently she has some trouble spelling 'own'). For the moment, please excuse her clumsy retardedness.

The sound of metal crashing was deafening. It echoed across the valley, and for those who knew what it meant, their breathing was stilled. Thousands of armored boots were treading across a field, on the path to obliteration.
Half a mile away, on a cliff side, a woman in chain mail tied back her hair to ensure that it wouldn‘t hinder her in the ensuing battle.
“They’re on the move,” she whispered to her companion. Her silver winged helmet reflected the moonlight.
Her companion nodded and removed his cloak. His double knives slipped from their sheathes without a sound.
The pinpricks of flame that were the army’s torches bobbed in the distance, indicating the enemy’s position. The warriors on the cliff side watched in dreadful anticipation.
The woman laid a hand on the arm of the man beside her, getting his attention again. He flinched at her touch.
“High-strung?” she guessed, withdrawing her hand.
He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “Aren’t we all?” he said in a low voice.
She gave him a worried look. “Do you think we’ll be able to win this?”
The man tossed one of his knives into the air and let if flip end over end several times before catching it. “I certainly hope so.”
They stood there without talking for several minutes. The woman ran her hand across the hilt of her sword nervously.
“No,” a voice echoed up the side of the cliff. “No! No!!!”
The man and woman exchanged glances in alarm before the voice shrieked, “It’s a trick! They’re here! They’re– ” and then the voice was cut off suddenly. Sounds of battle reverberated from the ground below.
Simultaneously, the two warriors sprinted to the edge of the cliff. “They’re still a long way off!” the woman shouted over the noise. “How can this– ?”
An enormous fireball exploded from below the cliff. The flames stretched up to the sky, bleaching the plains orange with it’s light.
In the precious seconds of illumination, the defenders on the cliff saw hundreds of warriors just beneath the rock edge. Their swords and armor were painted black, as to reflect as little light as possible, but blood dripped from their blades.
“No,” the woman whispered in horror. “A trap.”
The scene was obliterated, blinding white light eclipsing it. A deep, ringing voice proclaimed:
“The white one shall be beyond your reach. The angel shall be lost.”

(Sorry, I couldn't resist)

Remember, this is a dream. It will be a bit important later in the story.  I'll see if I can put some more on later, if you like. But for now, I'm wrapping this up. I have decided... drastically......
NOT to schedule this post! HA HA HA HA!

Yes, I take pleasure in little nutty decisions like that.

By the way, if you haven't noticed, we like comments. A lot. It seems we all love comments here in Writey Happy Land. So if you have something you'd like to say...