WIP: Solomon’s Choice – Ravena Takes a Look
“What a good boy you are,” soothes Ravena, and I want to turn toward her again, want to bask in that praise - Notte sighs. “Must you?” She stops.
“What a good boy you are,” soothes Ravena, and I want to turn toward her again, want to bask in that praise - Notte sighs. “Must you?” She stops.
“But how could he guarantee… here you are, with all your free will… things,” I say, waving my hand. “With only Terrance allowed to kill people.” “Yes.” “Then he failed. He completely failed.” Notte sighs. “No. He succeeded.”
"I am The Mortal’s Doom, and before your mother shed her first infant tears onto the soil of the old world, I was."
It sounds like exaggeration, does it not? I was there, and it is still difficult to credit.
She guided me – taught me, which by design should not have been possible – to never kill children, to avoid the unwisdom of well-armed cities. She taught me, friend, to stop before my prey would die.
I had discovered a state of existence other than hunger, and I wanted more. Tranquility spins a siren-song of its own.
Tiny yearning tugged at me. What would I find, if I could find my way there?
We carried stories from town to town, transmitting parables like pathogens, connecting people via the thin threads of empathy and imagination who would otherwise never meet.
So many things seem eternal, seem, in the moment, to be without end and culturally permanent scars. The great flood; the memory of dragons; the knowledge that there are demons in the dark.
I now present an unedited snippet from Notte, the dramatic hero of my WIP. SO dramatic. Oh my.
A bit of writing process and a brand-new NOTTE snippet.
The tower was filled with breaking. Breaking wills, breaking minds, breaking cries. At every turn, every landing, even every stairwell, Saqalu draped and twisted, wings out, faces stretched, and if they were aware of me at all, they told me to run.
Flames dance thanks to exothermic reactions, a process that releases energy to its surroundings in the form of heat and light. So did she.
She sort of… skipped, boots barely touching the treacherous ground, keeping on her feet even as I slipped and staggered and relied solely on her grip to keep me on mine.
Just a short, dark excerpt from my current WIP, Beloved Notte. Enjoy!
Yet another snippet from Notte! Unedited, messy, etc. Enjoy! Horse's instructions seemed simple: I was to find the city of Mercy; to locate the inn called Pearl's Bottom; to rent…
Just a glimpse from my newest WIP, Notte. Enjoy! My panic did no good. We could not escape the dead. Everywhere, everywhere, forests burned and fields blood-stained and wells left…
"Do those you drink from die?" "Yes," I said. "But sometimes, they live."
This is a work in progress. :) Typos, verb tense problems, and more issues abound, but it's still pretty fun.
So here's this thing that I've know about forever, but have had no opportunity to talk about yet. It's called the First War, and was probably one of the most culturally significant things to ever happen among the Mythos.
Notte’s having a really bad day. I won’t give more context for the moment.