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Hello going to try to keep this brief, some of my writing feels sort of flat (especially with quiet scenes and snippets involving characters I haven't worked on a lot), but I can't tell if it's my bias because I'm more used to writing comic fantasy with characters I've had for months.
I'm going to pop in one snippet that I feel is normal and another I feel is flat. I'm wanting to know if the second is flat/boring or just different. you do not have to read the whole of the first one by the way it's just an example (and also it's not intended to be comedic very much it's just an example of my normal writing)
Fergus stalked past Grace, who, for someone who saw attempted mutinies nearly weekly, was entirely unaware of his presence. He chose not to question this.
He went carefully to her wardrobe and sifted through, checking the pockets on each coat, blouse, and pant. Nothing of interest aside from bloodstains, which Fergus guessed belonged to either navy officials or traitorous crew members.
Under the bed, he found plundered riches as well as books he had lent Grace. Not one of the pages so much as a dog-ear on any one of them, and the spines were as they were when they were Fergus’. However, there was one that stood out.
It was a leather-bound book that read on the cover, ‘The Ultimate Guide to Piracy’. In writing larger than the title was, ‘a Yewport Crimes Bestseller!' It was very old, and just as dusty as the other books.
The shelves held only Grace’s jewelry, tangled in heaps, and various trinkets, all symbols of good fortune- a horseshoe, hag stones, and a wooden cardinal.
The chest at the end of Grace’s bed was stocked with guns, knives, and bullets. The only thing to be gleaned from the cabinet was her drinking habits. There was nowhere else Fergus thought to check because the rest of her possessions were scattered on the floor.
Now Fergus was convinced Grace didn’t have it. Either someone had beaten him to it, or she’d never had it- a ruse to boost morale. But that was unlike her. She didn’t need to lie to get what she wanted; she didn't unless she had to.
Fergus began to stalk out of the quarters but paused. Under his heel was a letter, in Grace’s handwriting- a cursive barely legible to the untrained eye. Throwing another glance at his sister, he unfolded it.
Writing in question:
At the foot of the palace was a stone stair, caked in lichen and frost in the crevices. At the foot of the stair were three guards, At their sides were mares with bells and wood hung around their necks. The only purpose they appeared to serve was to fill the silent wood with clacks and light jingling
The guard at the door looked over the men, Micah with wariness. Micah smiled lightly, careful not to bare his teeth, as Erez presented his pin. The guard opened the door, which was taller than the treetops, and escorted the two in.
The hall was draped in silk and carpeted in velvet, both dark morning blue. The only light came from the guard’s lantern and wanly through stained-glass windows, all of which depicted white birds. It smelled of ancient pine and ash. Micah felt like an intruder.
After minutes of walking, the hall turning like a prisoner’s maze, the three came to their third flight of stairs, which led to the throne hall. As they were instructed to, Micah and Erez waited outside the door.
Erez watched Micah chew at his claws. “How long have you been waiting?” He asked.
“What day is today?”
“February the twenty-eighth,” Erez replied. Micah thought for a long while, counting on his fingers, mumbling with his lips as close as possible as he threw glances at the guard. “I don’t know. It might’ve been spring. Almost a year, I’d guess.”
Micah turned and studied the window behind him. “Is that a dove?” He smiled crookedly, trying to change the subject. Erez nodded.
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