forum The Pravaci Court - Leave me a critique!

Started February 27, 2018 by @LittleBear group

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@"Write Like You're Running Out Of Time" congrats on college! Lmk how your first day is (if that's not weird, lol) And don't worry if it takes a while, that'll just give me more time to write!

It's not weird! I'll let you know once classes start. Right now it's kind of a welcome weekend/beginning of the week. I don't start classes until Wednesday.

Hey guys, here is a REALLY rough idea, more of a skeleton… but tell me what you think. ALSO, I'm thinking of what I'm going to name this. Like if I wanted to have "Blank Blank" a Pravaci Court Novel or something that is in the same style but different for each one like "Pravaci Court", "Pravaci Plot", then "Pravaci Rebellion". Or if I should turn away from "Pravaci" entirely? Thoughts?

Natiselle -

There is no other word to describe what I felt. Well, except for maybe bliss. I could feel the sun streaming through the open windows, it tickled my cheeks with tendrils of my hair. I stretched and spread my fingers out, expecting to brush against him. They were met with only sheets. I opened my eyes and found nothing but an empty bed.

Maybe he had gone out for food.

Maybe he got caught up in something.

No.

He left.

-Few Days Later-

Fuming, I strutted down the hall. Each click of my boots seemed to goad me even further into a rage. How dare he? He thought he could do that to my heart and then just leave without so much as a word! No conversation, no letter, not even a message left with a maid. I had to find out from Aelina.

Oh, I thought you of all people would know.

Know what? Spit it out Aelina, I have no patience for your games.

Stris left a few days ago with a full saddlebag. He would not tell me where he was going.

The wretch looked so pleased with herself when she told me. I did not feel better when I shoved her out of my way.

Now, I did not know what to do, or where to go. I only knew to keep moving. But my feet betrayed me. Before I knew what I was doing, I was standing in front of his door.

“Miss – ” a maid started.

“What are you looking at?” I roared.

Her eyes widened and she stammered before running off, clean linens went flying out of her basket as she escaped.

I cursed and rested my head on his door. The Blackwood cooled my forehead ever so slightly, but did little to comfort me. I weakly brought my fist to the door and felt a little better. I did it again. And again. Each was time a little harder until I was slamming my fist into the door.

“What did that door ever do to you?” asked a familiar baritone.

My hand froze mid strike. With my hand still in the air, I turned to see the idiot grinning like a damn fool.

“You!” I thrust my finger into his chest.

“Me,” he said calmly.

“You cannot do that!” I was so angry I was shaking.

“Do what?” He was grinning at me.

“I- I,” my palms were getting sweaty and I wanted to kick things. “You left! I told you how I felt and then you left. If you did not feel the same way, you could have said something.” I jabbed my finger into his chest with each sentence.

“Nati,” He wrapped his hand around mine mid jab and pulled it into his chest. “I would never run from you.”

I struggled to pull my hand from his grasp, but he would not let me go.

“You terrify me in ways that you cannot imagine and yet I know that I will always be running towards you.” He put his other hand on my cheek.

“Let go of me,” I spat before his words sunk in. “What?" I stammered and froze. "What did you say?”

“Gods above, all my pretty words are lost on you,” he murmured and he brought his lips to mine. They were firm and soft and tender and, and, and–

I was so shocked that I stumbled backwards.

“You cannot just go around kissing people!” I exclaimed. “Especially after you slip out like a thief in the night!” I knew that I was not going to win this fight, nonetheless that did not stop me from trying.

“Nati, you made the first move!” He finally let go of me as he threw his hands in the air. “I am the man, I am supposed to tell you my feelings first!”

“That is an imbecilic rule! Why can I not do what I want!” I yelled back.

He ran a hand through his hair and thrust the other into his pocket. “Would you let me hold onto my traditions? You did not give me enough time!”

“Time for what?” I gestured wildly.

He pulled out a beautiful thin bracelet of gold inlayed with a single, tiny emerald. “For this. I wanted to court you properly.” He growled. “The goldsmith was not finished.”

“You!” I sputtered; I had no words for how I was feeling. So, I tackled him. I flew into his arms and kissed him with all the might I could muster, all my anger.

@LittleBear yes! they are probably going to be together bc I feel the same way!!

@TryToDoItWrite & @"Write Like You're Running Out Of Time" if you guys want, I would be more than happy to critique y'all's stuff in a similar fashion to this! (nudge nudge, wink wink bc I really want to read y'all's stories: dragons, daemons, and ghouls oh my!)

That'd be amazing! I don't really have much time to write right now, but when I go home this weekend I'll look over the two things you've posted and maybe drop a scene from my book.

Just read that last passage!! I'm a hopeless romantic!! It's so cute——!
lil bit of grammar mistakes here and there but that can't be helped

• “Nati,” he wrapped his hand around mine mid jab and pulled it into his chest. “I would never run from you.”
  Capitalize "he" here. You are interrupting a complete sentence of dialog with a complete sentence of narration, so you need complete sentence punctuation.

• “Let go of me!” I spat before his words sunk in.“What?"
  Besides the space between in. and What?, I'd change the exclamation point to a comma. When reading a ! I think high pitched at the end, but the word "spat" seems more monotone, more striking and angry. Idk. that's just my feeling about it tho lol. Most of my words and punctuation I use on instinct

• They were firm and soft and tender and and and.
  I think a dash at the end would be more grammatically correct (with a pinch of commas) like so:
  They were firm and soft and tender and, and, and—

I think that's all! Looking mighty fine my friend ;)

I'd love to show you some of my stuff! I haven't written any new stuff in a hot minute because I always start writing thinking I don't need an outline or a plan, then I regret cause all of my scenes are disjointed and the story is patchy. I'm in the middle of a writing hiatus rn where I spend all my free time staring at my scene list and screaming

tho I'm sure I could rustle up a scene or two for you lol

@"Write Like You're Running Out Of Time" @TryToDoItWrite
So, I got in trouble at school (for skipping a class to finish an essay) and had to walk hours (walking back and forth with my old AF m14 for literal hours). And in the third hour of mindnumbing silent walking I got to thinking about Erion and his time in Lian… and man, Erion I'm sorry. (Side note: Janon Hane is Erion’s alias and the __________ will be either new chapters or jumping to another scene later on)

Also, I'm glad that you liked it! I need to finally write some fluff for Erion …. the poor boy is going to need it after this…

Erion -

“The subject is Halis Onrin,” Maious said. “He will be in his residence in the Selian district.” He handed me a slip of parchment.
If my memory of Canise served correct, the Selian district was the richest, other than the Palace of course.

“What has he done?” I asked.

“Not a concern of yours,” he said, dismissing me.

Knowing better than to protest, I left the room. But I stayed close to the door, straining to hear as best I could.

“Keep your eye on that one, Anions. We never should have taken an Uradavi in,” Maious said to my handler. “His conscious will be the end of us. If he has anything of his mother, then his will is unbreakable.”

“The boy asks a good question. I myself am curious,” Anions said.

“Smuggler. The King wants his wares, a poison of some kind, off the streets,” Maious answered. “The assignment should be easy enough. He will be alone.”

Satisfied, I put space between myself and the door. The risk of a beating was not worth the extra gossip.

He is a drug lord, a thief, a liar; the King has ordered his death. This is no different from a soldier obeying orders, I told myself. This was not murder.

((I’ll write them riding through the city later, too lazy to do it now))

We tied up our mounts a little ways away and Anions turned to me. “Quickly, quietly, and the house burns after us. No traces. Understand?”
I nodded.

The only sound was the whisper of wind though the date palms. Nothing was awake apart from Anions and me, even the crickets were no longer playing their song. The grand house was one of many, all stark and beautiful against the vast desert sky. And most importantly, a second story window was open.

He glanced around and nodded to me. Quickly, we made our way to the wall, I gave him a boost, and he disappeared into the house. A moment later the end of his whip fell down the wall. Just as we had practiced so many times before, I wrapped my hand around the whip and walked up the wall.

“Do not touch anything,” he breathed as I clambered into the room. An office, by how it was furnished

“I am not an imbecile,” I muttered to myself as he made his way deeper into the house, his footfalls barely a whisper. I slipped after him.

We made our way through the house. At every turn I could not help but wonder at the splendors that were here and how they differed from the opulence of home. There were lush rugs inlaid with golden scenes instead of tapestries and painted porcelain instead of crystal vases. The home smelled faintly of incense, snuffed out hours ago.

We finally came to a set of double doors, and, as was the usual for Lianian architecture, they led to the bedroom. Anions motioned me forward with one hand and slowly opened the door with the other.

I drew my dagger, took a deep breath, and slipped through. A large bed took up most of the room, just as expensively decorated as the rest of the house. It was occupied by huge Lianian man who was snoring soundly, his barrel of a chest rising and falling. I crept up next to him and looked down at his face, obscured by a well-groomed black beard.

“I am sorry,” I breathed. He is a drug lord, a thief, a liar; the King has ordered his death. This is no different from a soldier obeying orders, I told myself again. This had become my mantra.

I dragged my knife across his throat – quickly, cleanly, and through both arteries, just as I had practiced on the pigs. His eyes flew open and his snores were replaced with the gurgle of blood in his newly-ruined throat.

I stumbled away from him and scrambled back through the door.

The moment I came through the door, Anions grabbed my collar and forced me to look at him. “Breathe boy. You have done well, but the job is not over.”

I nodded and we each went to a lamp and poured the oil out onto the floor, darkening the beautiful carpets. Simultaneously we lit our matches and let them fall. The light that followed blinded me for a moment and all I could see was the dark liquid flowing from his neck.

The way it shined in the moonlight was seared into my memory.

“Come,” Anions said. He pulled me back the way we had come, out the office window and towards our mounts. When we finally turned to look at the house, it was engulfed in flames.

“You did well. But it is time to return,” Anions said and for a moment I felt a spark of pride. A spark that I immediately squashed down, for it was pride that threatened to rot my insides.

I was about to reply when I heard a scream and then a crying babe shortly after.

No.

Before I could process what was going on, I was running back to the house. I did not get far.

“There is nothing you can do now. What is done is done!” Anions had my forearm in a vise.

“There is a babe in there! You said he would be alone!” I roared.

“Sometimes the intelligence is wrong. You did not verify,” he said matter-of-factly, as if we had not just condemned the life of an innocent.

“May Rionel have at you,” I cursed as I drew my sword and smashed the pommel into his face. It was if Lehion himself was guiding my hand, for Anions crumpled immediately.

I did not bother with the window again; instead, I went for the entrance. I tore off my headscarf and held it to my mouth before I put my boot through the grand window. The smoke that billowed out stung my eyes and burned my throat. With a last prayer to Lehion, I stepped into the inferno.

“Where are you?” I yelled over the roar of the flames and the groaning of the house. What had seemed grand only minutes ago had transformed into a hells cape. “Where -” I was racked with a coughing fit.

“Help!” the voice called, clearly feminine, just loud enough to be heard over the cacophony.

“Keep yelling!” I shouted and followed the voice through the house.

Suddenly, an almighty groan rose above the rest. I looked up and saw a beam bow and then break. Luckily, I leapt forward just in time to escape its crushing blow. Plaster rained down around me and added to my urgency. After what seemed like an eternity, I came to the woman’s door. A burning armoire had fallen in front of the door

“I am here. Hold on!” I yelled. “Move away from the door!” I bit into my headscarf and used both hands to lift my sword high over my head. I do not know if the fire had just weakened the wood or if it was the adrenalin coursing through my veins, but I made short work of the armoire. I shoved the pieces and the blankets that it held aside and grabbed the door handle. White-hot pain screamed up my hand before
I could realize my mistake. Cursing, I grabbed my headscarf again then grabbed the handle and pulled.
The woman was crouched in the farthest corner of the room, a nursery. She curled around her child, trying to keep him from the smoke that swirled all around her. When she saw me, she leapt to her feet and rushed forward. She was barefoot.

I sheathed my sword and grabbed her.

“No!” She screamed, terrified. It was then that I realized that she was only in a thin shift.

“You are barefoot – I will have to carry you,” I croaked. “Here, take this.” I handed her my headscarf.

She nodded slowly. I swept her and the baby into my arms, and I stumbled back through the house.

“Go through the back,” she shouted, straining to be heard over the blaze, “It is much closer.” She became my eyes as I stumbled through the deadly maze, shouting a new direction every few moments.

When we finally came to the back door, the world was beginning to spin and my entire body was shaking. “Hold on,” I wheezed and I kicked the door open.

We spilled into backyard and clean air flooded my lungs. The woman and her child tumbled out of my arms just before my stomach heaved. I narrowly missed them when I vomited black sludge into the grass. We laid there for a moment, with the sound of the dying house taking over the night.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I do not even know you and you saved us. How can I ever repay you?” Her words were worse than the raging fire.

“Forget that I was here,” I said as I picked up my headscarf rewrapped my head. “Tell everyone that you got out yourself.”

“But -” she objected.

I was already walking away from her, towards the back gate. I had to face the Anions’ wrath. I skirted the edge of the property and slowly made my way back to where I had left him. But he was not there. Cursing, I started towards the horses. I had not made it five paces before someone appeared behind me and wrapped his arm around my throat. Instantly spots danced in my vision. I slammed my fists at his arm, but the effort was feeble. My strength was gone.

---

Hot.

That was the first thing I noticed. The heat was oppressive. I could not tell if the wetness on my face was sweat or tears. The salt burned my eyes and my parched throat screamed at me for water. But when I tried to wipe my face, I realized how truly, deeply wrong things were. I was in stocks and there was a roaring fire in a hearth not ten feet away. “Let me out!” I tried to scream, but my throat was too dry, producing only a harsh and guttural sound.

There was a gust of cool air as the door opened and the Spy Master strode in, a bucket in one hand, cane in the other. “Ah, the princeling awakes,” he purred as he rapped my chin with his cane.

Without thinking, I lunged forward, causing the stocks to jerk.

“And yet still so hostile,” he tutted. He crouched so that he was level with me. “You do not understand. Your dear mother has given me all the license in the world. We will break you, Uradavi; keep you dancing between life and death until you learn.” Then he threw the bucket’s contents at me. Cool and beautiful water.

“Three hours more. Then I want him in the throne room,” he said as he left. “Call all the apprentices in. I want the consorts too. Bring –” and the door closed, locking out all the cool air.

I think I made it another thirty minutes before passing out again.

This time, the air was mercifully cool. But, I could tell that I was not alone. There was the gentle hum of a confused crowd. This time took full stock of my position before I opened my eyes. I was not wearing a shirt, I was bent over on something curved and soft, and my feet were solidly on the ground. Most importantly, my wrists were tied down.

I opened my eyes and immediately wished I had not. I was indeed surrounded by a crowd. Everyone was in the throne room. All the other apprentices, instructors, and guards were watching me. Even the courtesans were here. Instantly I knew what was coming.

“There he is! Let us begin then!” He said, his voice like a like velvet. Gods, he was going to paint it as entertainment. “Thank you so much for joining us today for the trial of Janon Hane.”

“His crimes include questioning orders, disobeying orders, reckless endangerment of mission, reckless endangerment of self, attacking a handler, and endangerment of identity. Thus – ”

“The babe would have burned to death!” I squawked. My throat burned in protest.

“Oh, let us add interrupting me to the list! I will be merciful – five lashes for each infraction. That brings us to,” purred as he mimed counting on his fingers, “thirty-five. Anions, you do the honors.”

The crowd fell completely silent and I knew that all my gods had left me. There was no getting out of this.
It felt as if the air had turned to molasses. Each of Anions’ footfalls took an eternity and the pounding of my heart drowned out everything else. He came and tightened my bonds, his face drawn and almost remorseful. “Forgive me.”

I focused on the Spy Master, lounging in his throne, grit my teeth, and grip the bonds. There is a crack and instantly I felt a blinding pain across my shoulders. I jerked but did not make a sound. I wound not give him the satisfaction.

My mind goes to another place. A place where I cannot feel the skin curling off my back or the blood dribbling onto the floor. A place where I can repeatedly punch the Spy Master in his teeth. I did not take my eyes from him. I pulled all my strength from my hatred of him and drew joy when he straightened in his throne. I realized He wanted to hear me call out. He wanted to hear me break.

I would rather die before breaking.

“Stop!” he barks after the tenth lash. The tension leaves my body. “Bring his partner.”

My heart drops.
“Unhand me!” her pretty voice shouts. “I have done nothing wrong.”

Two guards come through the crowd, a blonde twisting and thrashing in their grip. Her hair is disheveled, she is still in her dressing gown, and it looks like there is a handprint blooming across her face. They brought her directly in front of me and I could see that it is unmistakably Sela.

“Janon, my God,” she cried, “What have they done to you? What is going on? I am so scared.”

“If you will not cry out for me, perhaps you will do so for her,” the Spy Master growled.

He would not dare. To mar a courtesan would be the same as condemning her to death. No man, no matter how pretty the face, would deign to let an imperfect courtesan warm his bed. He would lose all that he had paid for her and she would have to take to the streets.

“So be it. She will take your remaining twenty-five.” His grin brought bile to my throat.

“What? No! Please, master! Please!” Sela screamed, dropping to her knees.

He was bluffing.

I made no move. No sound.

“Oh, you do not believe me!” His smile turned predatory.

He stormed down from his throne and grabbed one of the guard’s whips. He was bluffing.

I watched in horror as he drew it back and it snapped across her back. The sound seems to reverberate across the room, louder than the others were. With a cry, she fell forward. Her gown was torn and blood was already flowing from her flesh. What had I done?

The Spy Master raised his hand again and he has won.

“No!” I roared.

There is no pride left to fight for.

“Stop. Please,” I said. “Have mercy.”

Triumphantly, he lowered his hand and called out, “Proceed, Anions.”

Again, the whip whistled through the air and it cracked across my back. And I screamed. I screamed like an animal in the throes of death.

My poor, parched throat cracks again and again from the force. The pain came in waves. It was relentless.

My vision swam and Sela blurred away.

Soon, it was too much to exclaim. All that escaped are pitiful whimpers. Then the cool fingers of darkness dragged me under and I felt nothing at all.

---

An unholy moaning filled the room and crashed in my ears, like a tempest’s waves on the shore. Put the poor man out of his misery, I want to say, but then it dawns on me. I am the man. I am the moaning. My mind was heavy, stuffed with cotton. But I felt nothing.

She appeared like an angel and put a cool hand on my forehead. “Shh,” she soothed. “I am so sorry, Erion. I am so sorry.”

Why? Why is she sorry? “No…” The words are hard to form. “I have killed you.”

She sobbed and covered her mouth.

“No, no,” she choked. “I am so sorry, Erion. It was all fake. Every moment of it. They found me beforehand and threatened – they said they were going to kill you if I did not act out the scene.”

I did not understand. There was blood. Her gown ripped. “They ruined you.”

She shook her head. “It was paint. It was pageantry. The dress was already torn when they brought me to you. When I heard the sound, I was supposed to fall forward and pretend.”

Her words were confusing and it grew harder to muddle through them. She faded away just as she appeared. Maybe she was a dream.

---

The first thing I saw is my bandaged hand. It smelled strongly of something sharp that irritated my nose. With my good hand, I tried to push myself up and suddenly I was on fire. There was nothing but pain. My world was pain and the air filled with cries.

“No! Do not move!” Suddenly Anions is here. He guided me back down and forced something into my mouth. “Swallow, boy.”

Hopefully, he has come to finish me off.

Darkness comes again and I greet it happily.

I could feel his eyes on me. He was sitting on the floor, leaning against the far wall.

“I had no idea what they would do to you,” he murmured. “I am sorry Erion. What you did, I respect you for it. None of us here would have done that.”

As I fell asleep again, I could not help but think that that was the first time he had used my true name.

---

((Back in Estonie, much later on in the book))

Finally, there was a knock at the door. If it was not so worrying that Delpe was so late, I would be cross.

“Enter,” I called as I selected a shirt from my office bureau. “Where have you been, I expected your…”

I turned and froze. The person at the door was not Delpe. It was Eline.

Cursing, I yanked the shirt on.

“Erion, your back…” She was as white as a sheet and her hand was at her throat. “What happened to your back?” she asked as she stepped forward.

“Nothing.” My mind was racing.

“Those are not from sparring or battle. These are whipping scars. What happened over there?” She reached out to me.

“I said –”

“Do not lie to me. I know what I am seeing,” she whispered.

I could not do this. No one could know. “No,” I said. And pushed past her. I could not be here.
_________________________________________________
Someone knocked furiously at my door and within seconds, I had my dagger in hand.

I wrenched it open and found Eline standing there. With a heavy sigh, I tucked my dagger into my trousers. “Eline, what are you doing here? If someone sees you here, the scandal –”

“Fie on scandal!” she spat. “I care about you more than the prattle of gossipmongers. What happened? I will stand here all through the night if I have to.”

“Do not do this to Solin. You cannot be here,” I begged, willing Tian to give me patience.

“If he knew, he would be here as well. Let me in. You have nothing to bargain with.” She crossed her arms and glared at me.
I let her in. It was no use.

Dang son! Erion has been through some tough crap! I'll look in depth later (I'm insanely busy it's ridiculous)
Love it, though, seriously!!! :)

@TryToDoItWrite Take your time! :) And yeah… I need to be nicer to him.

@TryToDoItWrite @"Write Like You're Running Out Of Time" Hey, Y'all just checking in to see how your senior and freshman year are going!

It's actually been amazing! i'm busier than ever (as you can see by my inactivity lol) but being a senior is kinda surreal. it's the first actual mile stone in my life besides, like, my first word or walking for the first time! I finally found time to almost finish my complete outline today, so hopefully I'll crank a scene out over the next week and send it to you! I'm pumped about that!

also, @"Write Like You're Running Out Of Time" are you a freshmen in college? (sorry, just curious)

oh gosh i just scanned again the scenes you sent ages ago and i forgot how much of a cruel cruel story maker you are…poor guy :(
i probably need to be meaner to my characters lol

Aw thanks for checking in! As you can probably tell, I'm way too busy to check notebook most days. Today's the last day of my fall break, so I'm about to jump right back into things. My first college midterms went surprisingly well, a thought I still have one more to do this week. One thing that really surprised me about college is that I really don't have that much free time anymore. It's actually cool, in a way. I like being busy. Anyway, so far college has been a great experience.

Hey!! I finished a short lil scene for my story tonight and figured I may as well share it! (it's really rough so tear it apart lol)

Fenin's POV

I left the other's inside, studying the old rune, debating about what it was.

("Look here! I know that mark there means that it should explode it some way."

"You're just hoping it'll explode, Simon.")

I gazed off the third floor landing into the city. It was easy to spot where the native section ended and where the citizen's section began, besides the wall. Our buildings, the ones that survived the Purge, were dark, ugly with dirt and grime. The paths–it was too generous to call them streets–of our section winded and twisted around, only there because of the feet that carved them into the dirt everyday. Their buildings were new, built in a foreign sweeping style that made me think of the wind. Their streets stood in paved straight lines. Yes, the wall was simply a formality of separation.

"You can see the whole city up here."

Camille had walked out of the apartment without my noticing, coming to stand next to me.

She smiled slightly. "The city lights look like the stars."

"I hadn't noticed."

Her smile faded. Still staring out at the city, she said, "Bastian is going to be fine. He needs two weeks to fully heal, I'd say."

I raised my eyebrows. "You say."

As we stood in silence, laughter from indoors floated out. I could make out Isabel's voice teasing Simon, then another round of laughter. The air outside seemed suddenly colder. I straightened up and opened my mouth but Camille spoke first, turning her intent gaze on me.

"How did you escape them?"

"Who? The police?"

"No– I mean yes, but also no. I mean–" She gave a huffy little laugh. "I mean when you were a baby."

"Oh."

My face must have said it all, because she looked away. "You don't want to talk about it."

I sighed. I didn't, but despite myself, I said, "My grandparents caught rumors of the Purge before it happened."

Camille glanced back, surprised I was speaking.

"They ran away with their family and as many friends as they could convince to come with them. They've lived in the mountains for the last 50 years. My mother and father were both raised there."

She pondered this, then asked, "Are they all rune users?"

"Yes."

"How many of them are there?"

"I'd say about fifty, give or take a couple of births and deaths."

"Do they follow all the old cultural customs?"

I schooled my face into it's neutral expression as I spoke. "Yes."

"My mom was right!" She grinned. "If they exist, then we can take Andere back. A couple of wise rune users is better than a hundred guns. All we need is to find them, and get them to join us–"

"–why'd we lose the war to begin with?"

She ignored me. "–then we'll start our revolution!"

"Don't get your hopes up."

"Why not? They know what life was like before the war. They will want it back more than anyone ."

"I'm not sure you want that."

"What do you mean?"

"You don't know what the old society was like. Your mom didn't even know. It's not as magical and happy as you'd like to think."

Glaring, she said, "It has to be better than this." She gestured out at the divided city, at the dirty streets and ragged houses.

I didn't reply. At least in this society, all natives are equally treated. Equally treated like dirt, yes, but we are all in the same situation together. In the old society, everything was based around your rune–how powerful it was was directly related to your position of power in life, how useful it was determined your job, how it reacted to other rune was how matches and marriages were made. Even the color of the rune affected you. Your rune was your fate, and your fate was etched on your palm before you were born. A bad draw of the cards dealt you a life of misery.

Finally, I replied, "The thing you're chasing is a pipe dream, Camille. Let it go."

"No." She flared up like a tree in a forest fire, slowly and then all at once. "No! I won't just let it go. I can't. And do you know why?" She stood tall, glowering up at me. "Because it's all I have. It's all any of us natives have. I don't care if it's a dream. I'd rather chase a beautiful dream than go on living how you do."

"How do I live?" I kept my voice even and it frustrated her more.

"You live like–like–all the world is evil and you can't trust anything good in your life–like the good things are going to crumble away or bite you eventually. It's not right!"

"But that's how I have stayed alive. Wishful thinking and trusting shitty promises will get you killed."

"It's not wishful thinking and–bad promises!" She threw her hands up in frustration and turned away.

As she reached the door, I called, "You said you'd rather chase a dream? I'd rather see reality."

She threw one last glare over her shoulder and opened the door. Light and warmth streamed out from the apartment. The voices of my friends came back into focus. Then it all disappeared behind the slamming door.

Her words had brought visions of the mountain society back into the front of my mind. They had been repressed, locked in a dark corner of my mind to be forgotten.

They had gathered around me eagerly on the appointed day. My rune had fully developed and I was ready to energize it. My mother had already studied the rune in depth and informed me that it was defensive in nature. She had laughed when she told me.

"It suits your personality, Fen." The smile she gave me was everything a child wanted and needed–warm and unconditionally affectionate. Little did I know that there was a condition.

Faces crowded around; my mother smiled encouragingly; my father stood proud; my grandma had tears in her eyes as she informed me that my grandpa would have been so pleased. There were others there, but I couldn't remember their faces well. I just remembered the eyes, the many many eyes, focusing on me as I attempted to make my rune work.

It had been easier than I thought it would be to energize the rune. It started with a tingling sensation in my palm. As I concentrated more, the warmth grew. It painful in a way that plunging freezing hands into hot water is painful. It was a dead part of my body coming to life.

Then the light began to pour out of my rune. I had done it!

My achievement had not been met with happiness from the eyes watching me. There were gasps of fright. My mother had screamed. My grandmother clutched at her heart and made a sign to ward off evil in the air.

"Stop that right now," my father had snapped. He had grabbed my palm, covering the glowing rune.

I could feel the crushing weight of my mother's fear and father's anger settling on my shoulders. What had I done wrong?

Nothing. But my crime had still shone beneath my father's fingers–the rune light. It was not the yellow of my mother, a sign of her compassion. It was not the blue of my father, a sign of his unfailing loyalty. Nor was it green, pink, white, or even orange.

It was red light, the sign of the devil.

I shook the flash of memory away. That life was over. I shivered slightly in the brisk wind as it picked up and went inside. Someone had turned the lights out. Simon was still at his work bench, studying the strange rune by lamplight. His sister quietly chatted with him as he did. Sandra had gone to bed. I could hear her heavy breathing.

Camille lay on the floor beside Bastian on a makeshift pallet of a couple of extra blankets. She didn't move when I stepped near her, but she was too stiff to be sleeping.

I ignored this and went straight to bed. Later that night, I dreamed of watching eyes and my weeping mother.

@"Write Like You're Running Out Of Time" I'm so glad that you're enjoying college! Take full advantage of everything! @TryToDoItWrite I don't have time to go into a critique right now, but OMG I read through it and it's so good! I think that I've said before that I'm pretty squeamish around the magic because so often people use it as a cop out - BUT I LOVE THIS! I love the social dynamic of it! AND you can tell that you have thought it out really indepth!

Thank you! And take your time!! (you don't even have to give it a detailed critique if you don't want..don't feel pressured!)

OMG this has been way too long! @TryToDoItWrite & @"CW-Write Like You're Running Out Of Time" MERRY CHRISTMAS! Sorry this semester has been CRAZY! @TryToDoItWrite I swear I will edit your lovely work soon! But for now, here is a little something I have been playing (other than a rewrite of the earlier city scene)

Natiselle -

“Papa?” I asked

“Yes, my Little Bird?”

I pointed at diagram at all of the Pravaci families. “Why is this one shorter than the others? They all have a row of more names here, but this one is short.”

“Ah,” he murmured to himself and rubbed the nape of his neck. “Onell!” he called.

“Papa! Mother and Kriao are in town,” I said.

“Well, that is the Deracose family. Do you remember what the Deracose family’s domain is?” He asked, fiddling with his beard.

“War. They train all of the soldiers and peacekeepers and keep everyone safe,” I rattled off.

“Very good, now which house is the most?”

“The King house is House Bestolin and they are in charge of the law. King Reviante Bestolin is in charge.”

“House Bestolin is actually the Regent House. That means that he is in charge of the kingdom until the real King Houses can rule again.”

I chewed on my lip and stared at the diagram again, “I don’t understand.”

“Do you remember the old King Houses?” he asked gently.

“Can you tell me again, Papa?”

“Of course, Little Bird. So, before you were born, we still had the twelve Pravaci families, that was the same. But, there were two families worked together the closest and were in charge of the rest of the families. They were the House Deracose and the House Seblire.”

“War and Money!” That I could remember.

“Yes, Military and Economics. Because so much of our land’s governance relies on –”

“Papa, what is governance?”

“It means to rule or be in control of. Now, where was I?” he looked off into the distance briefly before collecting himself. “Yes, because most of the rules
have to do with money and keeping little beasts like you –” He took this opportunity to tickle me and I squirmed away from him.

“Papa! Finish the story!” I giggled.

“Because we need a lot of rules to keep everyone safe and have money to buy things. Those two houses were the King Houses. The Houses Deracose and Seblire were so close that they were almost brother houses. They loved each other as if they were one family.” He stopped, and it was like a shadow passed over his face.

“Then there was a big fight between the two houses and they stopped acting like brothers. They started acting like enemies.”

“Why?”

“Well…” He stopped to tuck a curl behind my ear. “The two houses were very sad. They were very sad because some bad things happened to the Queens. And they were tricked into thinking that the other house was to blame.”

“Who tricked them?” I asked.

“A wicked witch,” he said and his eyes were far off again. Papa sometimes looked like that, like his mind was in a distant land where I could not go. “A wicked witch played a dirty trick and made the houses hate each other. So because they could not work together anymore, the Pravaci court decided to choose one house to watch over the country until House Deracose and Seblire can become brothers again.”

“Papa, that still does not tell me why the Deracose tree is not as long as the other trees,” I reminded him.

“Well something bad happened to the Queens and they both moved to the heavens.”

“Which heaven are they in?” I asked.

“Yiela’s,” he said without pausing to think.

“How do you know?” I asked.

“I know because they were both good Queens who loved and cared for their people. They were kind and strong and funny and brought sunshine on the rainiest of days. To be around them was already like Yiela’s Halls of Plenty, and so it would be a mistake if they were not there now. One of the Queens, the Seblire Queen, her name was Eline had a son before she died. So his name is there on this line.” He pointed to the name Strisen in the Seblire tree. “But the other Queen did not have a child before she passed on. And the two Queens were so good that both of the Kings were very in love with them, so in love that they did not remarry.”

“That sounds so lonely.”

He looked down at me sadly and said, “Yes, Little Bird, it does,” so softly that I almost did not hear it.

“I am glad that you have Mother so you are not lonely and are not like the poor Kings.”

“Yes… I suppose I am lucky”, he whispered and I knew that he was no longer talking to me.

@TryToDoItWrite
This is a super sloppy edit, but here goes nothing! Also, I'll try and actually give a content based critique later!

I left the other's inside, studying the old rune, debating about what it was.
(others, no ownership)

I gazed off the third floor landing into the city. It was easy to spot where the native section ended and where the citizen's section began, besides the wall.
(Here do you mean "beside" as in 'next too' or "besides" as in 'other than')

Our buildings, the ones that survived the Purge, were dark, ugly with dirt and grime. The paths–it was too generous to call them streets–winded and twisted around, only there because our feet pounded the dirt everyday.
(I would delete "of our section" because it makes the sentence kind of clunky and from the previous sentence we already know that is is their district. I also shorted the latter half for readability (that ones more of a style suggestion than anything))

Their buildings were new, built in a foreign sweeping style that made me think of the wind. Their streets stood in paved straight lines. Yes, the wall was simply a formality of separation.
(The "yes" here seems a little out of place)

I raised my eyebrows. "You say."
(this feels like it should be a question)

(You're so much better at this than me, but I think this should be a new paragraph that leads up to Camille's question.)
I straightened up and opened my mouth but Camille spoke first, turning her intent gaze on me. "How did you escape them?"

I schooled my face into it's neutral expression as I spoke. "Yes."
(The use of schooled is a little off, try "I forced myself to take on a neutral expression")

"I'm not sure you want that."
(I love this line! It is so wonderfully foreboding and it breaks the stereotype where the main characters go on an epic quest only to find that their savior is anything but.)

In the old society, everything was based
(try on here in stead of "around")
around your rune–how powerful it was was directly related to your position of power in life.
(Put a period here.)
How useful it was determined your job.
(Maybe another one here.)
How it reacted to other rune was how matches and marriages were made. Even the color of the rune affected you. Your rune was your fate, and your fate was etched on your palm before you were born. A bad draw of the cards dealt you a life of misery.
(I love this explanation and the hierarchy of runes!)

She flared up like a tree in a forest fire, slowly and then all at once.
(Beautiful description here)

Her words had brought visions of the mountain society back into the front of my mind. They had been repressed, locked in a dark corner of my mind
(I would take out "in a dark corner of my mind" and replace it with 'away'),
to be forgotten.

Little did I know that there was a condition.
(This is so hauntingly sad, that a mother's love is conditional)

Faces crowded around; my mother smiled encouragingly, my father stood proud, and my grandma had tears in her eyes as she told me my grandpa would have been so pleased.
(I don't think you need that many semicolons and informed me seems to proper)
There were others there, but I couldn't remember their faces ('as') well. I just remembered the eyes, the many many eyes, focusing on me as I attempted to make my rune work.

My achievement had not been met
(passive voice, try 'was' instead of "had not been")
with happiness from the eyes watching me (try "watching eyes").

I could feel the crushing weight of my mother's fear and father's anger settling on my shoulders. What had I done
(replace "had I done" with 'did I do')
wrong?

It was red light, the sign of the devil.
(Interesting, though I'm sensing this is just a superstition)

I shook the flash of memory away.
(I wouldn't say flash in this situation, this was a full scene, I would just got with 'I shook the memory away')
That life was over.

I ignored this
(change 'this' to 'her')
and went straight to bed.

These edits are so helpful!!!! Thank you!

Okay!! Good backstory and worldbuilding here!

“Ah,” he murmured to himself and rubbed the nape of his neck. “Onell!” he called.

“Papa! Mother and Kriao are in town,” I said.

“Well, that is the Deracose family. Do you remember what the Deracose family’s domain is?” He asked, fiddling with his beard.
Maybe it's because this is a piece out of context, but I don't understand the little interjection about Onell? Is he calling for someone else to explain it because he doesn't want to? It could be clearer I think

“Very good, now which house is the most?”
I'm not quite sure what is being asked here. Her question and his answer only vaguely go together in my mind. I think with worldbuilding that is question and answer (i do this technique a lot actually too) it's important for the question to be clear and relevant otherwise it just looks like the one person is spilling seemingly random information and then it becomes an info dump

So, before you were born, we still had the twelve Pravaci families, that was the same.
Run on sentence

One of the Queens, the Seblire Queen, her name was Eline had a son before she died.
another run on. The interjection her name was Eline needs either parenthesis or dashes around it to make it a complete sentence. I tend to use dashes

other than those tiny things, this is so good!! All your fleshed out backstory for your world is really shining through! I'm reading Tolkien for the second time and he has the same thing going! The more backstory, even if you don't tell it all, the better because the richness of the world is evident! Good job friend :)

((Hey y'all, sorry it has been SO long, this semester is absolutely CRAZY. And I'm actually supposed to be writing an essay on counterterrorism… but I couldn't get this stupid myth of of my head… so here it it. I just finished it and have not edited it, so it is RAW. Lmk what y'all think. ALSO, note: Erion planted a little grove of fruit trees behind their house in memorial of Nati and Kraio's mothers.))

Erion -

Kraiotan was sitting at the base of his mother’s tree, his little head buried in his knees, shoulders shaking. I went and sat next to him, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” he said, muffled by his knees.

“Alr – ”

“Natiselle punched a town boy for me today,” he said.

I sighed and pinched my nose, that little girl was going to be the death of me.

He finally looked up and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “We were all playing at the lake and Lorcas was trying to get to find out who Nati favors. When she refused to play, he turned to me and asked who I favored and I told the truth.”

“What do you mean little Sun?”

“When he was asking Nati, he listed all the boys in town and when he was asking me he kept listing all the girls. So, I told him that I favored some of the boys too.” He turned to look at me, his eyes ferocious and hurt. “He started calling me really rude things. I couldn’t move, I just looked at him, gaping like a fish.”

He rested his chin back on his knees and grumbled, “I just froze. Nati jumped up and started punching him before I could even do anything. I couldn’t be there anymore, so I came here.”

“I don’t understand. Why is it okay for Nati favor a boy and not me? I like Prios just as much as I like Talina.”

“Let me tell you a story about one the greatest warrior of the cosmos; Plenon, God of Choices.”

Plenon was one of the great heroes of the old world, the world before the twelve houses came together. And in that time of chaos, Plenon was instrumental in fighting off the Kicrion invaders as they swept across the north. He was easily the most skilled swordsman in on any battlefield and it is said that he fought with a deadly grace that would cause any onlooker to stop in their tracks to watch.

As is the case in war, beauty fell to ruin, women took to hiding their glory to save themselves from the invaders, monuments and temples were destroyed in the Kicrion’s wrathful wake, the people burned their lands in an effort to starve the enemy. And so, with the beauty gone, there was little use of Jesimae and she fell into a deep slumber. She would only stir when there were collective thoughts of beauty occurred and as this only occurred when Plenon was fighting, her power was connected to him. The larger the battle, the larger the crowd that saw his grace, the more that she stirred, until one day the battle so large and the crowd’s admiration so powerful that Jesimae awoke fully. And when she did, the only thought on her mind was to find the source of her new-found power.

When she finally did find Plenon, she too fell in awe of him. In a land devoid of beauty; every elegant slash, every enemy that fell away from him, every drop of blood that dared to mingled with the sweat of his brow spoke of liberation; both for his people and for her. She fell madly in love with him – as much as a goddess can. When the battle was done, and he was nursing his wounds, she came to him in the form of a beautiful woman and tried to spirit him away to live as her consort. But Plenon already had a wife whom he loved dearly, for she was the only one who truly knew his heart and was equal to him in wit and courage. When he denied Jesimae he told her about his wife and Jesimae fell into a jealous rage. She found his wife Aeda in their cottage and indeed found her to be beautiful in a certain point of view. Jesimae tricked Aeda into leaving the cottage by pretending to be Plenon, and then sold her to the kingdom that would become Stricia. For Stricia had made an uneasy agreement with a vengeful sea serpent: the sacrifice of a true love in exchange for a year of safe sea passages. But if the kingdom missed one sacrifice, all ships would fall to the wrath of the sea serpent. So Aeda was tied to Ahitbe Cliff with unbreakable chains to await her death.

When Plenon heard of his wife’s disappearance, he left all of his men behind to try and rescue her. Lehion fell into a rage as he watched his favorite warrior leave the battlefield and swore to smite him for his cowardice and selfishness. But Yiela had been watching the entire situation –”
“Papa! Yiela is the goddess of peace and pure hearts! Wouldn’t she be in a slumber too? Wouldn’t all her powers be drained?” Kraio asked, all his tears gone.

“Most men of the battlefield yearn for peace as they clash against their enemies. Both sides have their own ideas about ideal peace, and usually they both think the other is so abhorrent that they are willing to fight to prevent it from coming to fruition. And there are those who fight to protect those who cannot protect themselves, who would rather find any other means but have realized that the only way left is to fight. With such thoughts of future peace and willingness to sacrifice for good, Yiela is almost more powerful in the instances of just wars than she would be in times of actual peace. Does this make sense?”

“Because in times of peace you don’t pay attention to it and in times of war you think of it and seek it on purpose?” He said, looking at me with a slightly furrowed brow.

“Precisely.”

“Okay, but what does this have to do with me?”

I poked him in the belly and said, “If you would be patient and let me finish!”

He giggled and swatted me away, “I’m to old for that Papa! But finish please, I promise I won’t say anything more.”

Yeila had been watching the entire situation and stopped Lehion, reminding him to not act hastily and she asked him to let her handle the situation. He reluctantly agreed, as long as Plenon returned to the battlefield within three days. Yeila, knowing that three days was not enough time to complete the task with mortal tools, she said that she would ensure he returned if Lehion lent her on of his godly steeds, imbued with the ability to teleport. Grumbling, he gave over Hent, his most mild tempered and shooed Yeila away.

She appeared before Plenon, looking like a simple stable girl, and when he saw her, he immediately fell to his knees. Yeila told him that she had seen the goodness in his heart, in all that he fought for and in staying true to his beloved wife. And she also told him of Jesimae’s jealous actions. Hearing of this he fell deeper into his depression – to the point that Los, the god of lost things and of sadness, turned his attention to the exchange. Yeila told Plenon that there was only one way to free his wife, by tricking Jesimae. There were three mortal treasures that Jesimae had wanted above all things, but gods and goddesses cannot just take from mortals, things must be given, and as much as Jesimae had tried to trick these treasures away from their hosts, theses three items eluded her. For a moment there was a spark of hope within Plenon. But then Yeild told him that the treasures were the first laugh of a baby, the first blush between soul mates, and the happy tears of a mother on the wedding day of her favorite child. If he could procure these things and give them to Jesimae, she would be compelled to grant him a wish.

Plenon recognized how much Yeila was helping him by giving this information, however he could not help the heaviness in his heart. With such intangible treasures he felt that the gods were playing a trick on him, giving him a moment of hope and then wrenching it away. Feeling Plenon’s sorrow growing, Los appeared as well and offered him a waterskin. It was plain in appearance but Plenon knew what it was instantly – Los’ fabled waterskin made from the bladder of the last Kicrionian war dragon, capable of catching and holding beloved items.
Yeila then gave him Hent’s reins and one more gift. She gave him her ability to sense the true desires of hearts. And finally, she warned him that he had three days to complete his tasks and return to the battlefield, for his borrowed gifts would return to their owners and Lehion would smite him if he was away for a moment longer.

With renewed hope, Plenon quieted his mind and let Yeila’s ability flow through him. When he opened his eyes, he was at a cross roads. One road led to a wealthy district of a town that seemed to be in the midst of a celebration and the other to an orphanage. He went immediately to the orphanage and asked to be taken to the infants. He found many there, but one called out to him with pudgy arms and a pitiful cry. Plenon knew in his heart that no one had held the babe and rocked it to sleep, there were too many babes for the paltry staff to care for all. He picked up the little one and rocked her gently, halting her tears in their tracks. Carefully he sat with her in a rocking chair and doted on her until they both fell asleep. The next morning, the babe started to slip from his lap and startled Plenon awake. In a fright he leapt to his feet and accidentally tossed her into the air, realizing his mistake he lunged to catch her. He caught her before any harm could befall her and delighted by her brief moment of flight, she began to giggle with all her might.

Plenon hurriedly opened the waterskin and the sound slipped inside. Ever aware of the time slipping away, he went to put her back in her crib and the babe lifted her hand and happily patted Plenon’s cheek as if in farewell. With one gift procured, he went again to Hent and open his mind to Yeila’s ability. This time he was transported to a road where that again diverged into two paths, one lead the same wealth part of town where festival music and cheering could be heard and the other lead to a river and a broken bridge. While Hent made a move towards the village, but Plenon chose to go to the bridge instead. Just before the ruins Plenon came upon a young weeping woman with a child on her back. When he asked what was wrong, she told him that she was fleeing the man who had kept her hostage and forced her to bear his child. She had planned to cross the bridge and go to the village across the river but she did not know that a storm had destroyed it recently. She would swim across, but she did not trust herself to swim with the babe on her back. The river was much to deep to ford and Hent did not seem to like the squirming babe. Plenon then took off his boots, cloak, and all his possession save for Los’ godly waterskin and gently took the babe from his mother. Together they entered the river and swam across. The waters were swift but they made it to the other side eventually, tired and shaking but otherwise alright. He built them a fire away a little way from the village and as they were warming themselves, a young man happened upon them. He had his swords drawn, expecting to find ruffian, but he dropped it instantly when he saw the woman. Even with her sopping wet hair, he had never seen such a beautiful sight as the young woman, happily bouncing the babe on her lap. A blush crept to his cheeks and looking up, the woman blushed as well. Plenon open the waterskin and in flew a lovely pink hue, sucked from the soulmate’s cheeks.

They were lost in each other and did not notice as Hent appeared and Plenon left to search for his last treasure. He opened up his heart to Yeila’s gift again and once more Hent transported Plenon to a cross roads, this time one was on the way to a grand castle and the other led to the same village as before, with the sounds of cheering and music. Hent again tried to go towards the music, but instead Plenon guided him towards the castle. For Plenon felt a great weight in his heart and knew that he needed to go to it. When he finally made it to the palace, he found it decorated beautifully with gold, red, and white banners but the air of the people was mournful and what should have been the happy march to the alter sounded more like a funeral dirge. Plenon asked a tinker what was happening and found that the youngest princess, beloved by all was getting married today to a Kicrionian prince. The prince known for his cruelty and many wives, but he had threatened to raze the city if he was not allowed to marry the princess. The king gave her over with the promise that the country would be spared.
Spurred on by the injustice and by the urge to face his enemy, Plenon stormed into the castle. The Great Hall’s doors flew open just as the high minister called and asked if anyone objected to the marriage. Plenon did not say a word as he galloped up the aisle and just before the alter, Hent rose up on his rear legs with a ferocious cry. In fear the Prince fell backwards, the princess, who would have preferred death to the marriage, stood still in the face of the godly steed. Plenon leapt from Hent and stuck down the Kicrionian prince with a single blow from his sword. And the audience rose up with a triumphant roar and began to drive out the Kicrionians in attendance. Happy for her daughter’s freedom, the queen began to weep. Again, Plenon opened the waterskin and the tears flew into it and as its purposed was now complete, it felt heavy in his hands.

Plenon did not need to use Yiela’s gift for the last part of his journey, he bade Hent to take him to the town with the celebration. They were transported once more to a road, but this time it led only to a great feast. There was the most beautiful music, all of the townsfolk where dancing and clapping to the beat, streamers flowed through the air, and heavenly smells wafted all around them. At the center of it all was Jesimae, sprawled on a throne, laughing as men fed her fresh strawberries. Plenon quickly dismounted and hid from her behind a ginormous barrel of ale, he trying to find a way to stay hidden when he spied an old beggar. Plenon traded the beggar his warm wool cloak for his ragged and torn one and then rubbed dirt and mud all over his face, beard, and hair so that his previously golden hair was as dark as the Bordon woods. Plenon then hobbled up to Jesimae, each step closer he made to her, the festivities drew quieter until there was nothing but silence and they were no more than three feet apart. Jesimae laughed at him and asked who dared to be so bold as to approach her looking as he did. Plenon did not say a word but handed Jesimae the waterskin. She could not stop her curiosity and opened it greedily. When she did, the treasures escaped and flew around her, and she began to glow with a happy pink light that seemed to twinkle. Jesimae laughed and clapped her hands in delight, her face took on the look of ecstasy, and the entire town began to sigh happily. She then proclaimed that he would grant him a wish in return and the town began to sing her praises. Even more enthralled by the admiration she said she would even grant him a joint wish, that as long as the two were connected, she would grant him two wishes. Plenon asked her if she swore it on her godly essence and laughing, she swore it without a second thought.

Plenon then threw off his hood and wished that the sea serpent that had been plaguing the land had never come to terrify the waters and that his wife Aeda be returned to him. Before Jesimae could protest, there was a loud crash and Aeda appeared before them, shaking and exhausted, but bearing no sign of bodily harm. Plenon ran to Aeda and was about to sweep her up into his arms when Jesimae let out a horrendous, jealous, screech. But what was done was done, she could not whisk Aeda away again. But Jesimae was as clever as she was beautiful and had listened to all the whispered that Aeda had said to herself on Ahitbe Cliff. For a fleeting moment, on that cliff Aeda wished that she had been born a man so that she could not be the object of Jesimae’s jealously. Jesimae granted that wish and in Plenon’s arms, Aeda transformed into a man.

Jesimae had expected Plenon to leap away from now Aedian, but Yeila’s ability sang within Plenon’s heart and he could feel that the love they shared was still true. He did not care the body that his now husband had, only that he was safe. He kissed him anyways. In that moment Yeila, Los, and Lehion appeared behind Aedian and Plenon and their gifts flew back to their rightful owners. Jesimae found that she could do nothing more and vanished with a huff. The townsfolk were released from her spell and fell down in exhaustion for they had been reveling for the past few days.

Plenon after having rested and telling Aedian about his quest, returned to the battlefield and was instrumental in beating back the Kicrionians. Aedain went to the orphanage and adopted the babe who’s laughter had been so instrumental. And when Hent returned to Lehion, he told him of the brave princess who had refused to move at the crashing of his hooves and was willing to sacrifice herself for the good of her people. Moved by her bravery, he gave her the ability to command respect over men and she went on to rule her people as queen without the need of a king until she married for love many years later.

When it came time for Plenon and Aeidon’s time in the realm of mortals to be finished, the gods offered Plenon a place among them as the god of choices, strategy, duality, and all those who love beyond the opposite gender. Plenon agreed only so long as Aeidon could spend the rest of eternity with him. And so that is the tale of Plenon’s pure heart.

“So, papa you’re saying that it is okay to love both?” Kraio asked.

“What I’m saying, dear child is that you have the profound ability to love someone for the contents of their soul and the kindness in their heart, not for the body that the gods have given them. What you have is a gift that you should never feel shame over.”
The sky turned from blue to orange, pink, and purple as the sun set and I could hear Nati calling out for us.

“Are you ready to get some dinner? Or do you want to stay here a while longer?” I asked him and I was glad to see that the sorrow was gone from his eyes. He shook his head and jumped up to greet Nati as she came around the house.
She did not say a word, she just hugged Kraio tightly, took his hand, and they ran inside.

Beautiful story!! The actual structure and flow of the myth felt like a Greek myth so nice!!
little things:
When you make new paragraphs in a long long monologue (which was the POV character telling the story), you add quotation marks.
"Like," I explained. "If I talk like this for a whole long time…………and we're still going.

"Then I keep talking more in a new paragraph. etc etc etc.

"And again. Still same story. Still same person talking. New paragraph. New quotation marks.

"And now I'm done. and I end the quotes."

and then you have other syntax things like run-on sentences and misplaced commas but I'm not gonna bother pointing those out because this is a rough draft

other than that, nothing stuck out. The pacing of the myth story was very fast paced and lots of names were thrown around that I couldn't keep track of, but that's expecting of that style of story so it didn't bother me too much

@TryToDoItWrite
Thanks so much girly! I was wondering about that! xoxo

~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.