forum Offering Feedback (5/5 - CLOSED for now, check back later)

Started July 12, 2018 by @Riorlyne pets

tune

@LittleBear – all right, here goes! As always, inline feedback here.

---

General Comments

Tension
First of all, you build tension really, really well. That first scene had a very compelling arc (though it perhaps needed a couple more sentences of winding down) and although I knew from my first quick skim that the girls would survive, it didn't feel that way as they fought! I also found Natiselle's emotional reaction to the ordeal realistic and believable - it came across that she was repressing it at first (partially due to her anger with Aelina and the danger they were in, and partially due to upbringing) but when alone and with someone she trusted was able to let go a little.

(Also, I love all forms of wordplay and Nati's "I can take all three of you" comeback was gold.)

Worldbuilding
Again, as I have probably mentioned before, the world of your story feels rich and solid. You've got a great balance here where there's the right amount of detail and nothing comes across as infodumping. There's a reason behind the little details of the setting and the characters, and it shows. I find the scenes easy to picture, and hard to leave behind, so if you do have more when I have time, I want to tumble into this world again.

Filter words/phrases
I noticed quite a few of those in this segment, so I thought I'd point them out. When you don't relay the action to the reader directly but filter it through the character's senses, it can lose some of its impact. Phrases of this kind are "I saw, I heard, she seemed, it looked like". Some of them work, but most of them just slow the action down. If the narrative is told from a first-person perspective, the reader will easily assume that the narrator can see or hear what they're told is going on.

Paragraphing
Just a couple of things: I find that the narrative flows better if a sentence where a character acts is in the same paragraph as the one where they speak, rather than paired with a different character's dialogue. So, instead of this:

"I'm sorry," Jane said. John stared at her.

"No you're not."

This is better:

"I'm sorry," Jane said.

John stared at her. "No you're not."

In the document, I've marked a few places where I think paragraphing would flow better the second way.

Lastly, when you repeat a character's name for the first time in a bit, I find it more helpful as the first mention of that character in a paragraph (and using pronouns afterward, instead of pronouns first and name afterward).
Instead of this:

She fell to the floor. Jane wasn't breathing.

This is better:

Jane fell to the floor. She wasn't breathing.

---

As always, all of the comments above and in the document are my own opinion; feel free to keep and reject what suits your story. If you have any questions about anything I've said (written), I'm more than happy to clarify what I meant!

Also, avalanche of small suggestions aside, I think this piece is excellent. I'm invested in both characters (yep, even the horribly misguided Aelina) and want to know the rest of their story. :D

@Riorlyne Thanks so much, you are always so thorough! It makes me SO happy that you caught that Nati's demeanor is from her upbringing/training! And I'm on break from school right now so I have the time to write, so if you want I can definitely put some stuff up! But I don't want to take up too much of your time, so once I get it up put me at the bottom of your stack :)

@Relsey - I've had a look at your plot. Here are my thoughts. :)

---

The magical items
I like the concept of the gods having given these special magical artefacts to the leaders of each magical race. I think you should really nail down what the powers and drawbacks of these pieces of jewellery are (in your own notes, not necessarily in the information given to the reader). In the beginning, Cador (who was wearing the crown) gets infected, but Azizia does not (because she was wearing the crown). So does the crown protect from infection or not? And if you mean that Cador gave it to his little sister to protect her, why doesn't the crown just fall off her? You've said that the object falls off if the "true ruler" is not wearing it, and it doesn't really make sense to me why it would consider Azizia the "true ruler" if she's three years old and has a living (and ruling!) mother and older brother.

Also, you've mentioned that the magical objects have powers, but that if they're under too much strain they will break. So is Azizia's crown in danger of breaking at any point in her journey? What does it protect her from, exactly? (Like, maybe she can't purposefully be killed. But if she fell into the ocean would she drown, etc.?)

The Blakes
The idea of a magical virus borne from a broken magical object is pretty cool. I guess that makes them, like, magical zombies? I'm not too keen on the name "Blakes" though, probably because it's a given name and it makes me think of a cool high-school kid who likes to skateboard, not a fantasy virus-possessed creature.

You will need to work out the specifics of the virus so that dealing with it in the story is consistent. How does it spread? What are its effects? How quickly will someone die from it? Can they be cured? How do you kill a Blake that already died from the virus? Are Azizia and the other jewellery-wearing royals the only ones immune to the virus?

You don't need to answer these here, but you do need to know the specifics yourself.

Scale
I'm not sure about book 2 being from Scale's perspective, especially if she won't be able to communicate with anyone for most of the story. Also, some questions that you should make sure your planning answers:

• Why does the Dragon queen have magic if the ring is gone?
• Can Scale transform back? How?
• Is it supposed to be a twist that she's a dragon? With a name like "Scale" readers may figure it out sooner than you like.
• Why can't she communicate with Azizia?
• Scale seems pretty independent, so does she try to escape from her kidnapper?

The communication thing is the one I find hardest to wrap my head around. It sounds from what I've read of the plot that Azizia knows Scale is a dragon and that's why she needs her for the quest. So she would make every effort to explain what's going on to Scale and get the girl on her side. If the reason for the ringing in her ears is "because of plot she can't know why she's with Azizia", I think there's too many ways around that. What happens if Azizia writes it out? Or draws pictures? What happens if they're joined by a Feana who comes up to Scale and says, "Hey, I'm Lucy, I heard you're here to help us defeat the Blakes" - does she have the ringing in her ears then too?

I really think you could build conflict and tension around something other than communication. For example, imagine Azizia explains exactly why she kidnapped her: "You're the last living dragon and I need your dragonfire to fix this ring so we can end the Blakes". Well, Scale still looks like a human. She can't breathe fire. How is she going to transform back? She doesn't have magic. She had no dragon parents to teach her, etc. The problem's not solved just because she knows what's going on. And she may not even believe Azizia in the first place.

---

Overall, I think you've got a great idea that you can launch a story from (the background with the dragons and the destruction of the ring is pretty cool!) but you need to work out the parameters of some of the other elements in your story (like the limitations of the magic jewellery, the way the virus works) so that the world can be consistent and you can avoid creating plot holes that will become bigger issues later.

All the best with your writing!

Thank you @Riorlyne! you're comments we're very helpful and I will make some tweaks and changes, A lot of what you commented on I do have in personal notes (including why she can't hear when people tell her she's a dragon, don't worry I've thought of that), but some of the other things I hadn't considered, Thank you again!

@Riorlyne, would you mind giving my short story a look? I'm currently on the second draft, but I'm planning on entering it into a competition so I need it to be the best it can be. And be as brutally honest as necessary, my feelings don't get hurt very easily!

@mackbyst - Hi! I've read through your short story a couple of times. Inline feedback can be found here, and I've written some general thoughts below.

---

Repetition
I think that the repeated colour language can be effective, but it's repeated a little too much in this piece, in my opinion. It's especially obvious with "mauve", since that's not one of the more common colour words, and because it's such a specific shade of purple, it can sound contrived that so many things are exactly that colour. "Crimson" works more easily since it's a more commonly known colour.

Consistency
Several things seemed to waver back and forth through the piece, which made it hard for me to connect with the main character. Was she a teenager, or was she old? Was it crimson or mauve that she wanted to forget? Did she love Octavian forever or was it just one day? Was she worried about Sophelia finding her or not? (Honestly once she's in London that 'get away from Sophelia' vibe kind of disappears. You may not need it. Running away to forget might be enough reason for your protagonist if she's old enough to be independent from her parents.)

I don't think you need to spell these out for the reader directly, but if you remember them as you write, your writing is likely to be more consistent.

Make every word count
In writing, you want every word to be there for a reason. This is even more the case when it comes to short stories, because there's not a lot of room for extra bits and pieces. In your story, there were a few tangents I noticed that didn't contribute to the story you were telling—some of the flashbacks, and a few sentences of introspection. They jolted me out of the flow of the story and raised more questions than they answered.

I thought the way you interspersed flashbacks throughout the story was an effective technique, but if you cull what's unnecessary and link more of your plot elements together, they'll work even better.

Ending
I did like the way you decided to end the story. The imagery is a lot clearer. Alessa shows purpose and personality. It's probably the strongest writing of the piece. I think with a more consistent build up to the ending, it will pack a bigger punch.

Thank you so much! This was very helpful, and it made me realize so many holes in my story. I am making edits now!

If you've got time, would you mind looking at this for me?

~Edits have been made!~
Hey Girly! I hope this finds you being your awesome self. Here is another scene I have been working on the past few days (sorry for the CRAZY hiatus)

Here are just a few reminders of my crazy story.
This is the generation before Natiselle.

Gov’t/Setting:

• The Kingdom of Darion is a diarchy (so two kings as opposed to a monarchy). There are twelve houses in total, and everyone is affiliated with a specialty, think like a medieval guild or American style President’s cabinet (does Australia’s President have a cabinet?). The King Houses (if you can help me think of a better name then that, I would be eternally grateful) are in charge of War (Soldiers and Peacekeepers) and Coin (Econ). The ten remaining lord houses are things like medical, education, artisanry, agriculture, etc. The Houses are all named after the last name of the lords. They all have distinctive colors and corresponding gems, have offices in the grand palace (I can tell you more if you’d like, but I think that’s enough for this scene.)
  Characters:
• Jerlorn Deracose is the Crown War Prince and has been friends with Marielle since they were 11 and 10 respectively. How they became friends is super complicated. As a crown prince, he is expected to get married to strengthen an alliance. He is about 16 at this time
• Marielle is a common girl that became a lady’s maid to her friend Eline (part of the Education house) after her father (a carpenter in the Artisan’s Guild) died (during his conscription, so that’s awkward) inorder to support her family. She is about 15 at this time. She is known around court as being one of the most beautiful women.
  Spoiler - click to show.

  They're Natiselle's parents

I’m terrible at writing men so I guess I’m wondering if this sounds masculine (as masculine as a dude can be when with his crush) and different from Erion. Also, I’m trying to get the shipping feelings started. Let me know what you think!

Jerlorn –

“Marielle, may I ask you for a favor?” I asked, hiding my hands behind my back.

She looked up from her book and grinned. “Yes! Anything to pull me away from Aton!”

“Why are you reading him if you don’t like him?”

She threw up her hand as if to wave away a pest. “Eline is making me. She wants someone to discuss his philosophies with and apparently the entire Pravaci Court is not enough for her.”

I chuckled, “That sounds like her.” I hesitated, opening my mouth to say something clever, but the thought disappeared, so I clamped my mouth shut.

Marielle tilted her head quizzically, "So… the favor?"

"Will you walk with me?" The words fell out in rushed jumble.

She laughed. "That's the favor?"

"No!" I could feel my face burning. "No. But will you walk with me?"

“I’d be glad to,” she said as she set the tome on the side table.

We set off down the hall at and easy pace, the purple banners of the Camile Wing slowly fading into the translucent ones of the Court.

“I’m glad I could rescue you from Kitraton, but may I ask what you think of him?” I said as I led her towards the grand staircase.

“I don’t like his works at all, too much destiny and duty.” She thrust her finger into the air, made a funny face, and in a deep a haughty voice said, “One must always consider his station when making decisions. A lowly fisherman has no place debating as if he were king, that is not his role and should not waste his time when he could be fishing. Blah, blah, blahdy, blah. Look at me, I’m so smart.”

I could not help but laugh. “What do you think we should do then?”

“Well, what if that fisherman is more clever than the king?” she said in her regular register. “Maybe not in all things, but perhaps in a single instance he knows what is right. Should he stay quiet because he does not have a throne or jewels? Should the rest of the kingdom suffer because the king did not have all the perspectives? No! An idea is good or bad not matter its source,” she said.

No matter its source. The words rung in my ears. She was right, wisdom should always win. If only it was that easy. To see all men as men, no matter the lineage. To let a boy court a girl, no matter her station.

“But enough of my prattle,” she said. “What is this mysterious favor?”

“I’m having trouble with something.”

“Is that all you’ll tell me?” she giggled. She took on the deep voice again and started walking in what I assume was an impersonation of a man’s gait. “I’m Jerlorn, and I have secrets –”

“Stop, stop!” I laughed. “We have to get there first!”

“Fine then, let us make haste! I grow impatient!” She said, gathering her skirts so she could fly down the stairs.

A passing governess was about to chide her, but she caught sight of me and quickly closed her mouth.

Chuckling, I followed after her.

Once she reached the courtyard, she stopped and waited for me. When I did reach her, she had her eyes closed, her face tilted towards the midday sun.

“Come on then, stop your dilly dallying,” I said and started towards the greater grounds.

“I protest!” she said. “I have neither dillied nor dallied in my life!”

Gods how she made me smile. I was drunk on her joy.

“M’ lady!” A voice called after us. “You will burn!”

I turned and a harried maid was hurrying towards us with a parasol in hand.

“Oh, Your Highness! I did not realize it was you,” she said, dipping into a deep curtsy. She turned
to Marielle and asked, “Do you required someone to hold the shade?”

“No thank you, I don’t want to keep you,” Marielle said, taking the parasol.

The maid looked relieved, curtsied again, and made her way back inside.

“My how the palace is different… I have to worry about the sun now,” Marielle said, almost to herself.

“Maybe use it as a walking cane or as a sword. I could picture you fending off pack of bandits with that.” I said. “A warrior in lace!”

She shook her head at me. “The things you say! What imagination!” But, with a mischievous look in her eye, she swung the parasol around as if ready to defend us from an imaginary foe.

“All beware, Marielle the Mighty guardian of the realm,” I said.

She giggled, opened her mighty weapon, and began to use it for its true and much less exciting
purpose. “You are too much. But really, Jerlorn where are we going?”

“What, this open field is not enough for you?” I said.

She just gave me a look.

“It’s that building over there.” I pointed to a small building with a thatched roof and an overhang, black Vrualti and orange Ahitha banners fluttering in the breeze next to it. Unlike all the surrounding buildings there was no flurry of activity inside. At my request and my purse, the carpenters had taken the day as a holiday.

“Artisans and Innovation? What could you possibly need there?” She asked, her eyebrows knitting together.

“Well, I wanted to make something and I’m having a lot of trouble. If I were to ask one of the craftsmen, I would be making them late for their other projects. So, I thought I would ask you.” I said, hoping that she would say yes.

“You mean we’re going to the carpenter’s shop? You want help with woodwork?” She asked, a hopeful lilt to her voice.

“Yes? Is that alright?” I said.

“It’s wonderful! I have missed smell of saw dust, as strange as that is to say. I would love to help you. This is more a gift to me than anything.” She was practically bouncing.

“You want to go quicker, don’t you?”

She looked at me guiltily.

“Give me the parasol,” I said.

Marielle nearly threw it at me.

I closed it, tucked it under my arm, and ran after her. Her skirts slowed her down, but we made it in record time. “You’re mad.”

She smiled and huffed, “Would you have me any other way?” She straightened her skirts and tucked away some runaway strands of hair. “Shall we?”

“Yes, lets.” I said. The moment I opened the door for her, the dry scent of saw dust wafted out.

As soon as she crossed the threshold, she took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of sap and sawdust, and sighed. She went to the windows and gently pushed aside the curtains, brightening the room tenfold. Then she went and sat at the work bench, taking great interest in the wood, tools, and gloves strewn about. “So, what can I help you with?”

I took the stool next to her and pointed to my various failed attempts at carving. There were many blocks of white wood with rough edges, gouges, chips, and splinters in them. “It’s a lot harder than I initially thought,” I said sheepishly.

“Who gave you this?” She asked, picking up one of the blocks, turning it over in her hands.

“No one gave it to me. I didn’t want to bother anyone, so I just asked for some of their scraps.”

Marielle put a hand on my arm and shook her head at me. “Its no wonder you’re having trouble. This is Red Oak, one of the most difficult woods to work with. Red Oak pieces can outlast entire kingdoms and requires extremely skilled craftsmen.” She got up from the work bench and went towards the shelves of wood in the back. “Oh, this is so lovely, everything is labeled!” she said, turning a corner. “Ah ha! Would you like a white color or browner?”

Nightingales were brown, right? “Brown.”

“Butternut it is then,” she said and then sat back down next to me. She was so close that her skirts brushed against my trousers. “You see, this wood is a lot lighter and softer, making it easier to carve and is a good starting point for a beginner. It’s also a lot better if you want to make more intricate designs.”

It took all my might to pay attention to her words as the air between us became increasingly electric.

She set two blocks of the light brown wood on the table and grabbed a skinny, sharpened piece of charcoal. “This charcoal is so fine. Are you sure its alright for me to be doing this? I don’t want to use something so expensive.”

“I promise to pay them back.”

“Alright then,” she said, twirling the charcoal between her fingers. “First you should sketch a rough design of what you want onto the wood. This will give your reference and then you can refine the image as you get closer to the finished item.” She turned to look at me expectantly. “What would you like to make?”

“A Nightingale,” I said before I could lose my courage.

“Lovely! I like that much more than what I expected.”

“And what’s that?”

“The boar from last week’s hunt. I know it was prize game, but it was gruesome sight.” She shuddered lightly, “I don’t care for the mounted heads in the great hall.”

I made a mental note to make sure the boar wouldn’t go up with the rest of the game. Perhaps it would make a good tribute for a visiting emissary. “No, just a bird.”

Nodding, she began to sketch a plain bird with an open mouth. I watched as her quick fingers glided over the wood and brought a liveliness to it. She was done as quickly as she had started. She handed me the charcoal and said, “Now you. You can use mine for reference if you would like.”

I took it from her and when I put it to the wood, the charcoal’s point snapped off.

Giggling, she plucked the charcoal out of my hand. “Gently. The wood isn’t going to hurt you.” She grabbed a nearby knife and sharpened the charcoal before putting it back in my hand, her fingers guiding mine. “Try again.”

I looked at her and grumbled, “You’re having fun, aren’t you?”

With a grin she said, “Crown Prince, you’ve entered my realm now. Now stop stalling!”

After four more shattered pieces, I had a sketch that was much rougher than Marielle’s.

She looked at it quizzically before she took her index and smudged the lines in a way that saved my bird. Then she tested a blade on one of the scraps. Not finding it to her liking, she grabbed a sharpening stone and dragged the little knife back and forth. Then she pulled a glove onto her left hand before handing me one. “Put this on your right.”

“But yours is on your left.”

“Non-dominant hand,” she said as she made a shallow cut into the wood.

"How did you know that?”

She set down her knife and gave me a stern look. “Jerlorn, you forget how long I have known you!”

I held up my hands in surrender.

“Also, you carry your sword on your right hip. It would be hard to draw if that were your dominant hand.” She pointed to the sword that was indeed hanging from my right side. “Now, you should always cut with the grain. Take this and try to make a shallow cut going both ways. The one that gives the least resistance is how you should always cut.” She handed me the knife. “And Always cut away from yourself. I don’t want to think of the trouble I would be in if you died.”

“You wouldn’t miss me?” I feigned hurt.

“Can I give you my answer another day?” She said, grinning.

“As you wish,” I said, and my heart warmed at the thought of another day.

For the next few hours, Marielle guided and teased me mercilessly until my fingers were sore and my soul was as light as a feather.

After all the labor, I finally had a rough, vaguely birdlike figure – a figure that looked nothing like Marielle’s wonder.

“With the rough paper, you rub away the hard edges and splinters until it is as smooth a river stone,” she said, moving the paper over her nightingale in quick circles. “My father used to always say that we are all like stones. We begin as rough rock with edges that crumble and stab and tear. But over time, whether it be other rocks knocking into us or by water gently smoothing us over for centuries – we all become smooth as we are supposed to be. We all find our place in the world.” She did not look at me as she talked, she was too focused on the wood. The way the wood changed, you would have thought it was clay between her fingers.

“That’s beautiful…” I didn’t even mean to say it, it just slipped out.

She chuckled and looked at me with mirth, “It’s not even stained yet!”

“No not the wood, what your father used to say.” The way she was looking at me made me feel things that I shouldn’t. She wasn’t an advantageous match, I shouldn’t be torturing myself like this. “I think that is a beautiful way to think about humanity. He must have been incredibly wise. I wish that I could have known him.”

“He would have liked you.” Marielle looked as if her mind was far away, perhaps deep in a memory. “He liked honest people, people who are always looking out for others.”

“I think you’re describing yourself more than me,” I said, taking one of the sand papers and trying to mimic her movements.

“I don’t know what you mean,”

“Moving here. It must have been terribly hard for you to leave your family after your father was killed. It was brave. If our roles had been reversed, I don’t know if I could have done it.”

“There was a choice to be made, my feelings didn’t matter. The money I send home is more important than any of the comfort I could have given them. Bravery had nothing to do with it,” she said, looking down.

“Don’t do that,” I said, with much more force than I meant.

She stiffened and immediately the line between us sprung up. The line that dictated that she followed my every order, the line that demanded everyone followed my orders.

“Yes, I apologize.”

“No, that’s not what I meant.” I said, reaching for her. I wanted to take her hands in mine, I wanted it so badly. But, I stopped short and sat with my hand in the air like an idiot before I dropped it. “I – I, oh, never mind.” And I pushed back from the work bench, I shouldn’t have come. It was foolish to even entertain the thought of courting her.

“Your Highness, what did you mean?” she asked, though her voice was soft, hearing my title from her mouth was like a slap.

I stopped in my tracks. It was wrong to do this. The court would never accept her as a queen. I should leave. It would have been smart to leave.

There was a scrape as she pushed back her own stool and her footsteps whispered against the dirt floor until she was right behind me. “What did you mean?”

“I meant don’t undervalue yourself.” I turned to her and we were so close I could smell her perfume, something that made me think of warm cookies from the kitchen. “You are the most remarkable person I have ever met. I have met kings and queens from foreign lands and none of them have captivated me as you do. Your honesty and mirth. The way you question the world and urge others to do the same. Your strength. I don’t have enough words to tell you how much I admire you.”

She took a step back, a hand on her chest. “I don’t know what to say. I –” a blush was creeping into her cheeks and regret was creeping into my bones. I shouldn’t have said anything.

“Forgive me, I’ve made you uncomfortable. I’ll take my leave.”

“No, you haven’t. It is only that, no one has ever spoken to me like this.” A strand of hair fell from her braids. “Thank you, that’s what I should say. Thank you, your Highness.”

“Jer. Please, even if we were in front of the entire court, I beg that you call me by my name.”

Marielle smiled. “I don’t know about in front of all of them, but here, alone with you – thank you, Jer.”

When I write Erion, I try and make him think some comment or about her physical appearance, that he loves her, but a lot of it is based in how attractive he finds her. In contrast, I tried to write it so that Jer is in love with who Marielle is as person, rather than her physical characteristics – so he never describes her features, just her actions. So, my intent is to show that despite Erion being the main character, Jer is really the right one for Marielle. Did I achieve my goal?

Also, in order for Marielle to be a good lady’s maid she is constantly being taught. Jer though it would be nice for her to have the chance to be the expert in something (besides finding excuses to be alone with her).

And here is a bonus (much rougher) excerpt like 3-4 years later. Note: Solin Seblire is the Crown Coin Prince and has trained with Jer their entire lives. They are more brothers than friends. You dont have to edit this if you don't want to, just thought you'd enjoy it!

Solin – The skies opened up with all of their rage, each drop stinging across any bits of open flesh. Xios shuddered underneath me and snorted with displeasure.

“Jer, the storm isn’t –”

One look at him and my words fell away. The madman’s features were twisted in a feral grin and he was clearly enjoying himself. There was a violent flash of lightning that turned the world grey and Jer howled with joy.

Jer caught me looking at him and rammed me with his elbow. “What’s that look for?” He yelled over the sound of the rain, the wind, and the disgruntled horses.

“You’ve gone mad!” I tried to yell back, but the thunder drowned me out.

He laughed again and roared, “Can you feel it? The raw power in the air? It’s like the gods fight with us!”

“There is no enemy, but this cursed rain!” I yelled, pulling the collar of my coat higher.

“Oh, come now it’s not so bad –”. He looked at me, must have seen how miserable I was, and roared with laughter again. “Fine. Fine, the next tavern is only a half hour’s ride away.” He turned to the men behind us, who looked as half-drowned as I felt, and shouted, “To the tavern boys!”

A cheer erupted from them and with a newfound fervor, we rode into the night – fueled by the promise of warm beds and fiery ale. To an onlooker we must have looked like Rionel’s huntsmen, come to raze the countryside.

After a time, we arrived at the promised inn. Thankfully it had a covered area large enough for all of our horses. We all wiped them down and tied them securely before heading towards our own blessed refuge.

Jerlorn threw open the door and immediately stomped the mud from his boots and shook his head like a wet dog. He waved down the tavern maid and smiled at her warmly, “How are you doing this fine evening?”

She looked at him quizzically and I could see we were of the same mind – that my fine friend belonged in a madhouse. “Pay him no mind, a round of ale for him and all of us beleaguered wet men,” I said.

“So, everyone here?” She asked, gesturing to the fairly full tavern.

“Yes!” He grinned and then stood up on the bench and roared, “Tonight, drinks are on the Crowns!”

The following roar was tremendous.

I blinked up at him and yelled, “Get down you great loon!”

“Does he mean that? Everyone? All night?” The tavern maid asked, her eyes as big as saucers.

“We are good for it. Find me tomorrow morning and I will pay the debt in full,” I said as I pulled out my Seblire emerald ring from under my shirt.

Immediately she dropped into a curtsey and said, “Of course, Your Majesty”, before scurrying off to the rest of the tables.

Jerlorn was still egging on the raucous cheering from the bench. So, I got up and with a mighty yank, I pulled him from the bench. “What in three hells has gotten into you?” I said as I shook him.

“She accepted.” He grinned.

“What?”

“Marielle! I gave her a courtship bracelet and she accepted!” His eyes gleamed and he was nearly bouncing on his heels with glee.

I tackled him. “My gods that’s incredible.

@LittleBear — Sorry for the delay! I will get to your work soon. :) (Though I’ve already had a cursory look and I very much like it)

Hello! I was wondering if you were still doing this. And if so, do you have a spot open to critique the prologue of my story?

@Moxie - Yes, still doing this, albeit slowly because work is hectic this week. I'll put your prologue in slot 5. :) Feel free to link/paste it here.
@LittleBear - Sorry for the delay! Things should have calmed down by the end of the week. :)

Yay thank you so much! Don't worry about getting it done quickly.
So there's a lot of action in this scene, but I don't normally write action scenes so this was a bit challenging. This is also my first draft, so it needs a lot of work.
———————————————————————————————–
A flash of bright light shone throughout the street, illuminating the chaos. Small fires burned, scattered across the empty block. The few people left ran for their lives, trying to clear the block.
Fourth street was in chaos. Shops were on fire, cash flooded the street, food carts were tipped over, people were running around screaming, and a boy clothed only in white, dubbed by the public as Lumen, was flying around, trying to keep a seven-foot-tall black robot at bay. Written on the back of it were the words ‘Vanta Enterprises’ in purple cursive. The sunlight shone down, and the boy reflected it off his hands at the head of the robot, blinding the girl inside. At the same moment, the robot tried shooting at the boy, missing by a few inches. Lumen flashed light at it again and flew around the back, looking for a button or a lever or something. ‘Damn you, Lila,’ he thought, not finding any easy entryways or possible ways to shut the machine down. He had discovered that this particular robot took many difficult calculations when the user inside wanted to turn the head, and thus tried to find a way in from the back. It was not going well. Lumen heard a woman scream and turned his head, costing him precious seconds. The robot’s head finally turned and aimed a blast at Lumen’s back, shooting him to the ground. He went to shoot up off the ground but felt a searing pain in his shoulder as he did. With anger on his masked face, he stood, feet firmly planted on the ground. He was running out of time. This fight needed to end. Soon. He held his arms out in front of him, letting the robot come to him. Once it was close enough, he pushed with his mind, making a thrusting motion with his hands at the same time. The robot flew up and crashed down to the ground. Sweat started to bead on Lumen’s forehead. The robot started to get up, but Lumen pushed it into the air again, higher this time, and let it fall to the ground. It stirred, and he shoved it upwards last time, trying not to pass out from the effort. The robot fell to the ground with a great crash and did not move again. Small, insect-like drones flew in a swarm and picked up the black shell, flying it out to the unknown. Lumen collapsed to the ground, holding a hand to his throbbing head. But people were coming. Those who were in hiding started to creep out, and those who had been avoiding the street started to tentatively walk towards it. They were lost and confused. They needed someone to tell them things were okay. Lumen pushed off the ground and into the air. “It’s alright!” he said in a loud voice. “The street is safe now. You can all go about your business.” He flew off into the early morning air, to an apartment window down the street. He tumbled through it and landed on his bed, taking his white mask off, his breathing heavy. He checked the clock by his bed and groaned. He was going to be late again.

(One other thing that I need help with: when he is "pushing" the robot, I know it reads like he is using telekinesis but he is actually controlling the wind, and I'm not sure how to make that more clear.)

@Riorlyne No problem, my senior year started so I'm also swamped!

@RiorlyneHey! I don't know if you remember, but one of the critiques you gave me was that you wanted to know the colors of the wedding dresses of my characters and that thought stuck with me. (When I should have been studying) I ended up sketching them both and thought you might like to see them…

.