forum I can critique your scenes and ideas

Started February 25, 2018 by Mila

tune

Hit me with all you've got! I'm open to anything.

Yay! Hope mine is not too long (I'm going to critique yours that you posted on my thread now)

Evera stepped through the threshold. Her blouse and pants were spotless, and there was not a hair out of place on her head. However, Nyir saw immediately that she was disheveled, if not physically, then mentally. Something must have happened. The party fell quiet.

“Hello, all,” she greeted into the silence, a thin smile stretched across her lips, “good to see you. Glad to see General Nyir at home.”

Nyir nodded. “It’s good to be back,” she replied in a cool voice. “What can I do for you?”

The other woman ran her tongue over her lips, considering. She opened her mouth to speak, paused, faltered, then bit out, “Nyir, can I speak with you? I understand you’re enjoying yourself, and you’ve earned a reprieve, but—”

“I haven’t earned a damn thing,” she responded with a wry smirk, nodding again, “so sure. I’ll talk.” It was about the mission, of course. They always sent Evera to discuss the details whenever Nyir did anything off mission. From the smallest step out of place, to trying to kill a dragon, nothing went unchecked. Nyir ignored her, for the most part.

Pushing herself up from her seat, she barely suppressed a hiss of pain as agony wracked her frame. Tyfer leapt up to assist her, but she shook him off, her lips flattening. He glared at her, wordlessly, and she smiled back. He sank back into his seat, admitting begrudged defeat.

She led Evera down the short hallway and into her bedroom, shutting the door behind them and crossing her arms. She stood against the door, leaning a shoulder against the wooden frame. Evera crossed over to the other side of the room, inspecting the tiny bed and accompanying side table. Her gaze lowered. “A lot of dust on this table. Are those Yuumi’s glasses?” She lifted the offending item by the frames between finger and thumb, her full mouth drawn.

Nyir rolled her eyes. “Eve. Cut the bullshit.” It’s not amusing.

“For old times sake, don’t be difficult,” Evera begged, dropping the glasses back on top of the book on the bedside table. “I’m in a jam. I need your advice.” Her hands tugged at the corner of her blouse.

“Just spit it out.” Nyir rolled her eyes again. Her eyes were growing tired but she didn’t care. “You’ve always danced around the point.”

Evera wouldn’t meet her gaze. She kept playing with the hem of her shirt, her eyes glued to the ceiling. “It’s…Mitsig. The Northern kid.”

“Mitsig?” Her brow twitched, the only sign of her interest. “What did he do?”

She sighed. “We think he’s stolen over half our rations. He’d been making off with a few, allegedly, but we could never get solid proof. Heck, we still don’t have solid proof. That’s why I’m here.”

“No, sorry, still don’t get it.” Nyir’s gaze bored holes into Evera’s face, but Evera still wouldn’t look straight at her. The force of her stare kept her at bay. “Why suspect him in the first place? And since when do you need that much proof?” Before Evera could reply, she continued with narrowing eyes, “The Board is to keep the peace, regardless of the cost. What’s keeping you from making this kid disappear?”

“Nyir!” Evera’s harsh voice sliced through the air like the blade of a sword. Her eyes snapped to meet Nyir’s. Fury seeped from her voice. “We are not unfair. We never have been. But there’s been talk, talk about the Northerners, talk about what we did. Mitsig’s background –his family, his home—they represent danger. But he’s little, he’s autistic, he’s innocent until proven guilty, because if we condemn him, the talk just gets louder. Suddenly he’s a martyr and meanwhile we’re all starving.” She raked her hair away from her scarred face, her eyes brimming with anger. “What do I do, Nyir? Some of us can’t just drop everything and go fight a fool’s war.”

Nyir glanced at the edge of the door, her tongue darting over her lips. She wished she still had the bottle of liquor in her hands. A drink could do both of them some good. She almost laughed. “Mhm. Sounds like a real predicament you’ve got there. You want to know what I think?” She paused. Evera said nothing. “I think you should stay in your damn lane.”

“Excuse me?”

“Go face the masses and tell them your usual spiel,” she continued, rubbing at her eyes, “tell them everything’s under control. Tell them you’re investigating, that you’ve almost reached a verdict, that they’re safe and sound. Do what you always do. There’s a reason you’re just a figurehead, Eve.”

Evera was never at a loss for words. Now was no exception. She bit out, “Maybe you’re right. You always are, aren’t you? Even when you’d kill yourself and destroy your team for ‘revenge’.” Her voice lacked passion and she held herself stiffly. Her eyes trailed off to the bedside table again, this time fixating on the book the glasses rested upon. “Of Mice and Men. Archaic and irrelevant.”

“Goodnight,” Nyir mumbled, turning heel and opening her door. She waved her hand, motioning for her to leave. “Tell Rylie and the kids I said hello.”

Evera strode from the room. She didn’t pause as she vanished through the threshold. “Goodnight, Nyir. Feel better.”

Nyir dragged herself to her bed, sitting close to the edge. Her muscles wouldn’t relax, as much as she tried to make them. As she inhaled, the air whooshed and rattled through her lungs in a way that felt unnatural. Her hand brushed over the cover of the book, her eyes clouding over.

Of Mice and Men. She’d never read it.

Wow. Actually, wow. I just want to keep reading. The characters are really likeable despite the tension, and the text is flowing and easy to understand. I really like your description, I'm almost feeling the same emotions as Nyir and Evera. You can feel the history between them. It's really, really good. I mean, I can't comment on someone better than me, so this is the best I can do.
I really like Nyir's personality, quick and snappy.

Aw man, i'm so stupid when it comes to compliments. I got the goofiest smile on my face reading your comment. Thank you so much!!!! I'm so glad you like it. Also, I feel like your dialogue (based on what I read) is as good if not better than mine!!

Can you critique my characters?

I really like the trio's relationship. Each boy has a bit of an opposing personality, and I often find that that creates a really nice group, so that seems nice and natural. The only thing you should be careful with is not layering on all the possible problems. I've read a book like that and it just felt completely fake. It's perfect the way you have it right now, with Haiden's depression, Daxon's insecurity and Alec's family situation.
Alec: For his indecisiveness, you say it's because he doesn't want to make any bad choices. Is this due to how he had to care of amy (the most wonderful woman in the world) for the majority of his life? And, as he's terrified of change, was it brought on because his parents started fighting when they moved, and his mother ended up leaving? Not really criticism, just wondering, as they seem to connect pretty easily.
The rest is cool, I like the little mysterious touch with the ALNC acronym XD

@Mila
Yes! I'm glad you could see the connection between all that!
Thank you for your critique!

@Mila
Yes! I'm glad you could see the connection between all that!
Thank you for your critique!

Hey! I was wondering if this basic plot is something I should pursue:
It goes that in a fantasy world with little to no knowledge of science, my main protagonist rejects all belief in the spiritual realm or anything to do with things she can't see. The plot is that her best friend is kidnapped by the people (the Kinesis) that nearly wiped out her tribe (the Ike) a hundred years ago and they (the Kinesis) claim that he has to break a curse that the Ike people put on their land. Also there are some bloodlines that have "Talents", that can do basically superpowers. The main protag has the power to take peoples pain, the other protag can run really fast, and the main anti-hero has gravity manipulation.
This is a bit from the first chapter I wrote a year ago:

The water got deeper and deeper, and it wasn't until I was struggling through waist deep water that I noticed I could see the dirty walls of the stone tunnel. Light. My heart leapt and I almost laughed in relief. It got brighter and brighter but the water also got deeper and deeper. I practically was swimming now, the water up to my stomach. I had to hold my bow above my head to keep it dry.
The tunnel eventually emerged into a huge room. Twilight trickled down from above, where the room opened more than fifty feet above.

No exit.

I'll admit at that point I yelled curses into the air in frustration. Taking a shaky breath, I gripped my bow tighter.

“We are not going to die down here.” I muttered to myself.

I studied the room more carefully now, noting a large rock jutting out of the water near the center of the room.
I swam over, and pulled myself out of the water. My teeth chattered. The water seemed too cold–unnaturally cold for the middle of the summer.
My leather quiver was soaked and the fletching of the arrows drenched. Useless to me, unfortunately. My precious bow was dry, and the stolen pain in my leg had lessened.
Maybe Chandler hadn't broken anything.
I allowed these positive thoughts to fuel my search. I noticed a metallic glint on the otherwise dark rock I was crouched on. I leaned closer and discovered a ring. It was wedged into the rock firmly, almost…purposefully. It was silver and had a delicate symbol etched into its surface. I recognized it immediately. Chandler had shown me his engagement ring the day he proposed, and on it was the same straight line with the same small line meeting it at the end, like half an arrow tip. It had the same curved line crossing like an S over the first line. It was the symbol of a promise.
What was an engagement ring doing here?
My mind demanded I ponder the question, a new puzzle to solve, a new mystery to uncover, but common sense whispered accusingly–Survive, Naomi.
I wrenched the ring out of the rock, and shoved it in my pocket. It felt weighty there, like I could feel the ring’s very presence. I shook the ridiculous thought away. My mom and Chandler were rubbing off on me.
Exit. I need an exit.
It was then I noticed a faint light coming from below the surface of the water, in the wall across the room.
I swam over to inspect.
The splashing as I did so seemed far too loud. When I stopped to inspect I could have sworn the sound of swimming carried on for a second longer, just behind me. I twisted around, heart pounding. Nothing. Just the dark rock, and the tunnel I had entered through.
I was just freaking myself out.
I turned back to the opening in the rock.
It was large enough to where I could swim inside, but not easily. My bow would get wet, and there was no guarantee it wouldn't be another dead end. If it was, I would just drown.
I could just turn back and check out the tunnel on the right side. I didn't have to do this.
But just as I had the thought, the universe laughed at me.
Dizzying pain shot through my leg and I choked back a scream.
Chandler was moving, the idiot. Tears sprang unwillingly into my eyes.
“Stop it!” I gasped, but of course, he couldn't hear me.
I couldn't think in this condition, let alone swim or walk, so I did the worst thing I’ve ever done with my Talent. I let the pain go.
Instantly, my leg was better, but I felt like hurling the contents of my stomach into the freezing water.
Giving the most annoying boy in the village my period cramps when he had laughed about how weak all girls were could not compare to this level of cruelty. I tried not to imagine Chandler’s own green eyes filling with tears of pain, or his own scream.
Every time I take a person’s pain an unspoken promise is formed. I would guard them. I would protect them from their own pain. I would keep it until they healed. I had betrayed him, my best friend.
I slung my bow over my shoulder and dove underwater.
If the spirits of my ancestors were watching over me at that moment, I cursed them.

Stray thoughts flashed through my brain as I swam.
My family would probably have to burn my favorite book on alchemy for my funeral.
I would miss my eighteenth birthday. I was only five weeks from coming of age.

It did get lighter as I went, but my lungs began to protest, demanding air. I kept swimming forward. The rock all around me seemed to press closer, and for the first time in my life I understood Kira’s claustrophobia. Seconds before I thought I was done, I spilled out into the true sunset light and a little creek. The current of the creek buffeted me, and I bumped along the rapids, gaining new bruises with each rock I hit. I struggled to my feet and waded to blissfully dry ground.
I was tempted to collapse there, but images of Chandler, alone and in pain, bombarded my brain.

I checked my surroundings. Thanks to my hobby of breaking rules to explore and hunt in the far reaches of the mountains, I knew where I was. I had crossed this creek on one of last week’s hunts.
I jogged in the direction of my village. I couldn't go back to the ruins without more rope and a bit of help.
And some light. The sun sunk down the horizon, setting the mountain ridge to the west on fire. The cicadas started to sing their nightly song, making my eyelids and each step heavier and heavier.
Finally, I saw the light of the central fire, a beacon of brightness that supposedly warded off the evil spirits and creatures of the dark. While I was mostly skeptical of its purpose, I was thankful for it now.
I picked up my pace and came within eyeshot of the main road.
Standing there, silhouetted menacingly in the firelight, was the one person I had hoped to avoid tonight.

It was my mother.

It's a very interesting extract! The plot idea is also quite cool, and I think if you develop it, it could definitely be great. The "Talents" idea is interesting, and I really like the examples you have. The only thing is the tribes, the curse, the talents, kind of reminds me of Twilight. But I'm sure if t was taken further, that would disappear.
So if I understood this correctly, Chandler was kidnapped and his leg was hurt. Naomi took his pain so that he'd be okay. The description is easy to visualize, the character made me smile. One thing I really like about this scene is that it feels really simple, but it does grab your attention. Just a few small things I would watch out for: A few small grammatical and punctuation errors, a bit of repetition and tense switching.
Also, for a first chapter, I think there are a few too many references to things that have already happened, or things we didn't know, but maybe they were all mentioned in the chunk of the chapter I haven't read. Anyways, I really like it.

thanks! yeah…the grammar is gross cause I didn't know what I was doing a year ago! I probably shouldn't have posted that random chunk because it's super out of context…i have about 16.7k words of RD that needs major editing and was curious if anyone thought it was worth it

I think it's definitely worth at least fine-tuning what you have and then deciding if it's worth it

Hello! Would you mind checking out my character when you have time?

Thank you:)

I have to say, this guy is really interesting. His taste is very unique, as is his personality: someone you'd think is cold, big-headed and stiff but is actually noble and not afraid to get their hands dirty. I just have a few questions. The Naissance is an organization that trains assassins and plans assassinations. I think a bit more detail on that would nice. Like, how did Luciel find out about the Naissance? When did he join? Did his family not mind when their son ran off to join a secret organization?
Another thing. How did he become interested in Satanism, of all things? Why did he get into it, was it just something to occupy his time?
Maybe a few things about his relationship with Teo too. For example, if Luciel, who seems to be very loyal to the Naissance, was tasked with killing him and Victoria, how did they become friends? And how do their clashing personalities fit together?

Ahh thank you so much, you totally understood the aura I want to give him:) I'll edit him asap~!

Hey @Paperok I am so so sorry it took so long, I was travelling
First thing: she's tall and a bit heavy. Intentional?
Second: the whole thing confused me. There were a lot of names, groups I didn't know (Team Delta, Rio Giraud, Macy and Merlin…). Just try and limit the flood of information, I've had my fair share of loads of characters and sub-plots. Go through it all carefully, see if it's really all necessary. If it is, then try and explain the person/group's role in the story just so people have an idea.
I loved Angelica's 'Nature' page. It's wonderfully developed and feels real, it makes sense. I also REALLY like the plot, though again a bit confusing. It's not exaggerated, it's simple but interesting, which goes very well with your amount of characters and histories.
Angelica is immediately likeable: I was sad just reading about how the book ends. Just a couple small questions: is there a reason she washes her hair so much?
You would imagine that after seeing her parents murder her sister, it would most likely lead to trust issues especially considering how her parents were at the start, and I don't think that she would have trusted Jackson so easily at the start; try and justify that (I do get that he saved her and that that would lead to her trusting him easily, but still, think it over).

Its alright, even I forgot this was a thing lol. and yes Angelica is a little heaviset. the reason she washes her hair so much is because when washing her hair, or doing anything at all she tends to ¨fade out¨ as Jackson dubs it. she just keeps going and going not really thinking about it. also it may seem like Jackson and Angelica just met and fell for each other but there is much more unmentioned detail. it took months of her running away from him before she would let him anywhere near her. Even after that It took years of Jackson trying to get Angelica to be at least slightly trusting. I didnt want to go into too much detail as It was already so long lol. Thank you for the review Im glad you like her :)

Keep it coming guys, I'm still going!

This is a bit from my paranormal romance WIP. I'm trying to keep the shifters from being overpowered by putting limits and consequences on their powers.

---

Leo gave serious consideration to whether he should shift-heal his ankle. Skin shifters healed faster than humans –most paranormals did– and several of their kind had abilities that helped facilitate care of and healing of injuries. Those with ground herbivores as their second skins, horses, gazelles, deer, healed from bone-injuries the easiest. Predators tended more toward open wounds, whether dealing with them or inflicting them. But every skin shifter could force a healing by shifting back and forth in a short space of time. It was all about tricking the body into forgetting the injury.

It was incredibly ill-advised.

Their kind aged slower because they grew up in two different sets of skin. He could ignore the injury by shifting to his second skin, but it was far from a perfect solution. Wounds on the skin they weren't wearing healed at half-speed or slower, and just because it wasn't their active skin didn't mean they couldn't feel it, the same way humans knew things were sometimes wrong with the parts inside them even when they shouldn't be.

Forcing the heal tended to have even nastier side-effects, like the bone setting wrong. Wrong-wrong. Consequence of going something like liquid in the transition, he supposed. Which meant subsequent shifts automatically re-breaking that bone and healing it over and over again until it remembered the shape it was supposed to be.

But the fact remained that their bodies just weren't meant to heal that fast, and, ultimately, it resulted in two things. Extreme stiffness of the affected body part, and two, knocking you on your ass. They might have been magic, but they weren't magic. Their bodies ran on energy from meals and convalescence always used more. Shifting skins took energy. Using one specifically to force the other? There was a reason it was only used when absolutely necessary.

The question became, then, how absolutely necessary did he consider it right now?

Between the fights and sex, he'd only been spending energy all night, with no chance to eat or drink or really rest. And the hours were only getting longer. He had things to do, had to get them out of here, couldn't rule out the chance of more fighting. He'd need the energy to fight, need the energy to run. On the other hand, running was pretty well out at the moment. He could tolerate the pain of standing on the foot, but it wouldn't be able to stand the stress of running, jumping– any impact at all.

Leo had exquisite, hard-won control over his shifting. He could probably localize the change to his lower leg and foot, but even then, the energy cost was going to be enormous. Could he afford it? Could he afford not to?

Decisions, decisions.

“Captain Flintlock Ulysses Calvert Keating, please report to the boarding area for ESS Wells. Captain Keating to the Wells, please.”

Axelrod’s ears perked up when he heard ESS Wells, and he started gathering his things before hearing that they only wanted Captain Keating. He groaned, and slumped back in the uncomfortable waiting room chair. It felt like he had been waiting for hours. His own fault, really, for getting up early and arriving to the THINGY three hours before he had to be there. He couldn’t help it, though. It was his first mission as first mate and he was almost out of his mind with excitement. The last captain had retired, so Flintlock had been promoted to Captain, and Axe had been promoted to Mate, much to the chagrin of the Wells’ navigator. 

Marion Huckleberry was older and had more experience, and it was traditional for the navigator to be the mate before the engineer, (which was Axel’s previous job) but there had been some tiny error in her application, and the company owners were notoriously sexist in a quiet way, so Axe was the mate and they had to hire a new engineer. He wondered who it would be. He knew most of the engineers in the area from various training seminars, and for the most part got along with all of them. He just hoped it wouldn’t be Cooper Johnson. He couldn’t stand Cooper Johnson.

“Marion Huckleberry, please report to the boarding area for the ESS Wells. Huckleberry to the Wells.”

He started up again, then fell back into his seat. Still not his turn. He should have expected this. The mate was usually the last one to board. And Axe was extremely bored. You can only people-watch for so long before getting tired of it. He closed his eyes for a minute, let his head hang over the back of the chair and sighed again, trying to maybe fall asleep or something, anything to pass the time. Someone poked his shoulder.

“Oh my god. Axe? Axelrod?” The voice and the Australian accent sounded familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it. “Axelrod Hemmingsworth?”

He stood up abruptly and almost knocked heads with a short, dark haired woman around his age.

“Oh my god, it is you! Hi!”

He stared for a second before recognizing her.

“Chessy? Oh my god, it’s Chessy Cheshire! I haven’t seen you since graduation!” He hugged her, picking her up and swinging her around in a circle before setting her on his chair. “How have you been, man?”

“Oh my god, Axe. You’re just the same as ever, obviously.” she grinned and patted him on the head. “Still tall, still ‘not a ginger’”.

“Hold up, what are you doing here? I thought you went back to Canberra?”

“I’m going to space, dude! You’re talking to the new engineer for the–”

She was cut off by the clear, robotic voice of the intercom.

“Elodie Cheshire, please report to the boarding area for the ESS Wells. Cheshire to the Wells, please.”

Chessy hopped off the chair and hugged him again, then started walking away.

“Sorry, Axe, duty calls. I gotta go. Wish me luck!” she turned around to salute him with a grin. “It was nice knowing you!”

Axe grinned back and waved a little overenthusiastically. “See you in like an hour probably!” he called after her. She didn’t hear. He had forgotten that she couldn’t hear very well when she was looking somewhere else.

"Ivory," someone called. "Ivory, Ivory, Ivory…"

She fell through the darkness until she felt someone grasp her wrist. "Ivory, you klutz," someone laughed affectionately. There was a sudden pulse, and the dark faded away, replaced with a dark starry sky and a floor of whirling blues that blended together like smoke.

"Well, what do you think?" the person said behind her. She turned around to see a girl with hair that almost blended in with the sky and dark, twinkling eyes. Her fingers intertwined with Ivory's, squeezing warmly. "Not bad, huh?"

"The view is amazing," she said politely. A star floated past her nose, and it automatically twitched, preparing to sneeze.

The girl poked Ivory's nose gently, removing any traces of itchiness. "Yeah, amazing. Like you," She grabbed the same star, and uncurled her fingers around it, getting down on one knee. "My stargirl,"

Ivory sat up in her bed, eyes wide. Who was that girl? She felt a small itch on her shoulder and looked at it to see the same star from her dream caught in the lace of her nightgown sleeve. Suppressing an uncharacteristically dreamy smile, she got up and changed into a daytime dress.

Hearing the ominous click of heels approaching her room, she shoved the star under her pillow and straightened her dress just as the White Queen walked in.

Ivory bowed deeply. "My queen,"

The Queen smiled, sickly sweet. "Ivory… How many times have I told you not to wear that stupid peasant's dress?"

In reality, the dress was made out of soft silk, with an uneven hem and a skirt that fell to her knees to look like a flower. A not quite white flower, which had the faintest hint of mutiny in its light pink undertone.

Ivory swallowed, an ice cube of fear sliding down her throat. She had to spit it out on her bedsheets to prevent from choking, where it instantly melted into a frog and hopped away. "Sorry, moth- my queen,"

Queen Mirana glared at her and stalked off, chin held high in the air. "Stupid girl,"

Ivory breathed a sigh of relief when her mother left, long white gown trailing behind her. She went over to her seat by the window and opened it for a bit of fresh air, heading out for a snack.

She walked down a generously decorated hallway in the castle, headed for the kitchens. All of a sudden, a heart-stopping shriek split the air.

Ivory sprinted towards the sound of the shriek, rounding a corner and freezing in the spot when she saw a corpse of a butler at her mother's feet. She knelt down and removed a steel knife from its chest, the bright white gleam of reflected sunlight stark against the dripping red that marred its surface.

The queen laughed silently as her new white dress was splattered with crimson blood, to add to the tea spreading across the bodice slowly. Most likely the now deceased butler's accidental work.

The blood drained from Ivory's face while her heart pounded, ears ringing with the sound of mad laughter. She turned and ran as fast as she possibly could.

Ivory flew down the staircase, her feet carrying her as far as possible from her psychotic mother. Her heart pounded furiously, the image of the butler's horrified eyes as he slid to the floor replaying over and over again in her mind.

She sprinted around the corner… and straight into her mother. She stepped back, apologizing quickly and bowing.

"Ivory. You saw nothing. Understood?" Queen Mirana said pleasantly, back ramrod straight. She made a perfect picture of majesty and regalness, despite the scarlet melting into the light speckles of brown on her dress.

Nodding violently, she stepped back and willed her trembling knees into a light curtsy. "To hear is to obey, my queen,"

Ivory didn't dare look up until she heard the sound of plodding footsteps recede, and then collapsed to the ground, trying desperately not to think of what just happened.

Her mother was always strict and overbearing, but… murderous? Had she… gone mad?

Never. Mad was for Wonderland. And Queen Mirana did not do Wonderland. The Outlands were a place of law and order, those banished merely because they weren't becoming unruly.

Besides, after visiting Wonderland for a short time, Ivory was sufficiently determined to never return. Croquet with flamingos and hedgehogs? Soldiers of playing cards? Literal frogs in your throat- Wait.

Why had the nerves in her throat turned into an ice cube, then a frog? Earlier, Ivory was too focused on that dream to think of it, and disoriented by her trip to Wonderland last week. All sorts of nonsense like that was considered "normal" in Wonderland.

But these were the Outlands. Mothers did not murder people at a whim. Ice cubes did not apparate from one's throats. Stars did not appear from people's dreams and settle onto their shoulders…

Ivory's trembling hand slid onto the banister as she started to head back up the stairs, dainty silk slippers purposefully treading in the puddles of blood that her mother had left and soaking her white shoes a dark vermillion.

There would be no insanity in the Outlands when Ivory would become queen. No lunacy. No… no madness.

She headed back to her bedroom, opening the door. And yet…

Ivory picked up the star, smiling slightly at the memory of the dream. Looking closer, she saw that it was actually a small white flower that glowed a faint gold. She inhaled the scent of exploding cherry bombs at Midwinter Eve, and her nose tingled, preparing to sneeze.

Cherry bombs were one of the most annoying things that Ivory had ever seen, due to its penchant for making her sneeze, but the amazing explosions it made in the sky smelled spicy sweet and made her allergies all worth it.

Yeah, amazing. Like you. My stargirl. She smiled, tucking the flower into her hair.

Well, Ivory supposed that there were some methods of madness that she could tolerate, and dreams of cute girls were one of them.

It struck her that for once, she looked at a white object without being reminded of her mother.

She went over to her seat by the window and opened it for a bit of fresh air, heading out for a snack.

There shouldn't be a comma connecting those two clauses, because it makes it seem like she headed for a snack THROUGH THE WINDOW.

Overall, I could see everything clearly. (I was very WHAT with the frog.)
But the plot moves too fast, and she doesn't show enough emotional connection. Her mother suddenly becomes a murdering psycho and kills a man in front of her and 'oh, la, pretty girl in my dream, hehe~' WHAT?
Does she not care about servants? It needs to be shown. Is she not traumatized by seeing someone die in front of her? (THEIR BLOOD IS ON HER CLOTHES, ON HER SKIN.) It needs to be shown.

You can't go from pretty girl dream to maybe I'll get a snack to DIE, FUCKER, DIE and then right back to pretty girl dream happy-sigh with no emotional transition. Trauma lasts longer than it takes to have the next emotion.
The emotion WHILE the dead guy is tying is good, but then it just goes haywire.
The incredulity over Wonderland and THAT denial plays more vividly than DEAD MAN AT MY FEET.

She went over to her seat by the window and opened it for a bit of fresh air, heading out for a snack.

There shouldn't be a comma connecting those two clauses, because it makes it seem like she headed for a snack THROUGH THE WINDOW.

Overall, I could see everything clearly. (I was very WHAT with the frog.)
But the plot moves too fast, and she doesn't show enough emotional connection. Her mother suddenly becomes a murdering psycho and kills a man in front of her and 'oh, la, pretty girl in my dream, hehe~' WHAT?
Does she not care about servants? It needs to be shown. Is she not traumatized by seeing someone die in front of her? (THEIR BLOOD IS ON HER CLOTHES, ON HER SKIN.) It needs to be shown.

You can't go from pretty girl dream to maybe I'll get a snack to DIE, FUCKER, DIE and then right back to pretty girl dream happy-sigh with no emotional transition. Trauma lasts longer than it takes to have the next emotion.
The emotion WHILE the dead guy is tying is good, but then it just goes haywire.
The incredulity over Wonderland and THAT denial plays more vividly than DEAD MAN AT MY FEET.

Thanks for the critique!
Explanation:
The frog/ice cube thing is one of the many hijinks that goes on in Wonderland, and Ivory's confused as to why she's doing something in the Outlands, a place of law and order, that belongs in Wonderland. (Since, you know, literal metaphor for 'freeze up' and 'frog in your throat')
In the next chapter, she does pay her respects by visiting his 'clock-heart' (clock-hearts are mad by the Mad Hatter. Alice got things in her dream wrong and thought he was a 'hatter,' not a 'hearter,' Very informal title for him. He puts clock-hearts in corpses, to reanimate them for a short while, then they have to be replaced. So that dude was technically already dead, and will die again soon.) at his reimagining, the place where they put his clock-heart in a new corpse. So she's more shocked at her mother going 'mad' than the butler being killed. In the eyes of the Outlanders and the Wonderlanders, "murder" of servants is just a small inconvenience.
But you're right: I should mention something about how it's still slightly traumatizing. Thank you for your time!

That makes so much more sense! Also, the frog thing got explained later, so I wasn't suggesting at any point changing that. Just that it definitely got my attention when it first happened. (It's cute and charming~)

Though it does pose a new problem. If this was just (haha, 'just') murder, then Ivory would be the only witness. But if the butler can be his own witness, then that brings up the question of 'why then doesn't he tell anyone that the queen has lost her ever-loving marbles?'

Or are these clock-hearts fully steampunk and not actual people-people?