Post by Sephiroth Kaizen on Dec 23, 2004 21:41:01 GMT -5
[glow=blue,4,339]Okay, here's a couple chapters from one of the stories I temporarily stopped writing in order to write another. I might end up revamping the story when I go back to it. I know if D1OP reads this I'll be hearing about it soon.
Here goes nothing. It's currently untitled.[/glow]
****Prologue****
Today. It has to be today. I’m through…
Alana paced nervously. Never before had she felt so terrified, but she knew what she had to do. She had to do the impossible, the unacceptable.
She stopped for a moment, taking a last glance around the well-furnished, comfortable dwelling of the castle that was a part of her family’s heritage for generations. Her room, possibly the most vibrant and welcoming of all thirty rooms in the relic, would be a place she could never forget. This room, with its shimmering lavender velvet floor, ivory curtains trimmed in gold covering enormous windows and a dozen hidden passageways, was a dwelling where she shared memories of her childhood.
Her first fight with her brother, her first kiss, her first lover, memories she would never let go.
Okay. Are you ready, Lana?
No, she wasn’t ready, and yet, she was. Her mind screamed no, don’t leave, are you mad? If you leave, you have no place to go. No friends outside of this city, and definitely more enemies. If you stay here, you have definite security of your family.
“But if I leave…” She began to pace again, worried she would wear a hole in the floor from pacing so much for so long, but she couldn’t stand still. “If I leave I’ll be free.” Nodding, she forced a smile to console herself. “Free…”
Yes, freedom. That’s what you truly want, her heart whispered softly. With freedom, you can finally be yourself. No more preoccupying yourself with the attitude of others. Isn’t that what you truly want? If you left, who would bother you? You are less of a threat alone without the protection of your family.
She inhaled the familiar scent of her room.
Will this be the last time I see you?
Lurching forward and almost tripping, she grabbed her sword by the hilt, and carefully secured it to her waist. She reached for the dark green velvet cloak next to her bag of belongings she decided to take, and fastened it loosely around her neck. Grabbing the medium sized bag made of thick animal hide; she paved the way for a chain of events she hadn’t braced herself for.
****Chapter One****
Alana gazed over her shoulder inhaling the intoxicating scent of an exquisite meal she prepared. A smile of satisfaction graced her full lips as she added the finishing touches to her last dish. Taking the giant porcelain-serving dish, she set it on a large circular wooden table with many other plates, bowls and glasses placed on it.
She took pride in the meals she made.
When she heard the soft footsteps of someone in her home, she gazed toward the open hallway leading upstairs. They sound seemed rather unsteady, and she stared towards the stair in disbelief. Slowly, but surely, a figure accompanied the sound.
A man, limping painfully down one step at a time, finally made his way to the shadowy hallway. He was poorly dressed, on the account of his broken arm, deep dagger wound in his chest and a bite mark to the calf; she didn’t bother to wonder why. Underneath dark tousled hair, peered glassy dark brown eyes gazing around hungrily with a sense of urgency. He managed to find his old worn out clothes that used to be stained with blood, dirt and food before Alana stripped him and cleaned them. Now he stood timidly in the hallway, small traveling bag in hand sizing up this small woman that he didn’t know.
“Where do you think you’re going?” She demanded wiping her hands on a cloth napkin, stood up and smoothed out her dark dress. Her eyes looked over his broken arm wrapped in bandages, supported by a brace made of strong cloth.
“I’m leaving.” His voice broke as he muttered his response looking past her towards the door another hall-length away.
“The hell you are.” She said softly, sauntering over to a chair closest to him and pulled it out for him to sit in. “You’ve been here for three days—beaten up—and you think you’re alright?”
“The clan’s looking for me—“ He insisted now more urgently shifting his weight from side to side turning down her silent invitation to eat.
“And?” She raised an eyebrow with a “so what?” expression on her face. “This place is a safe house—neutral—I have no concern for the clans and they know better than to show up in this town.”
Her tone suggested that arguing wouldn’t make her back down. Her only concern was nursing him back to health, no matter how stubborn they may be. But he didn’t bother to say anything else. He simply dropped his bag in the middle of the hallway, and made his way to the table. Patiently, he waited for her to set a plate in front of him, before he meekly sat at the table.
It took a long moment for her words to register in his mind. “Neutral? How do you know about the clan?”
She placed her fork down beside her plate, wondering how many questions he would ask her before he started to eat. “People from clans show up hurt around here often.”
“How often?” He finally began to eat, surrendering to his hunger.
“Don’t worry about it, no one’s going to hurt you in this town.” She repeated softly and began to eat.
“I’m not worried about being hurt. I’m waiting for someone.”
She ignored him, finally beginning to eat. She had no interest in clan issues and made it her personal mission to not get involved. As easy as it sounded, her previous membership in her family’s clan made it gradually more difficult to not show some sort of interest and concern. Rivalry and hatred between the clans were increasing, the numbers of massacres were rising in an alarming rate, and the survivors were few. Some made their way to neutral towns, but most were captured and killed.
Besides the survivors that made it to her door, she was deeply concerned for family. She hadn’t heard anything about them specifically in over three years; because of this, she couldn’t hide the fact that her nerves were frayed.
“Did you hear me?”
Alana gazed up from her plate, remembering he was there. Perhaps her silence alarmed him? “No, I didn’t.”
“His name is Aubrey.” He sounded aggravated even though he realized the change in his voice hardly fazed her.
“Let me tell you something.” She snapped, in an enraged tone, “I don’t care what his name is. Part of this place being neutral is not knowing a damned thing about the people I take care of. Remember that.”
They continued to eat in silence.
Alana had absolutely nothing else to say, and neither did he, even though she did wonder why the name sounded familiar.
“The food is really good.” He mumbled with a full mouth, helped himself to a second plate, and continued to feed his face.
Alana could see it in his face; she had broken the little bit of pride he had left with her comment. His face seemed somewhat ragged with pain. Not physical pain, but mental anguish. He had something he needed to say, and she refused to listen. She tried her best to ignore it.
“Thank you.” She forced a weak smile, observing the simple fact that she killed the already frail mood. There was nothing worse than a man with a bruised ego and pride.
“Miss Alana!”
An arctic wind ripped through the kitchen followed by a young boy and an adolescent girl. They stood in her kitchen, panting, their large green eyes darting around frantically from the man to Elana. Melting snow trickled from their bear skin shoes to her clean floor.
She stared at the puddle they stood in for a moment; an eyebrow rose impatiently waiting for an explanation as to why they exploded into her home like a pack of wild animals.
“Miss Alana, there’s a man ‘n the woods!” The boy started, half screaming excitedly and pointed wildly out the open door.
“There’s always men in the woods, children.” She said softly, frowned from the cold and glanced at the man. “Close my door, I have a sick person in here—and why don’t you wipe your feet?”
“But he’s hurt really badly,” The usually soft-spoken girl spoke up in desperation with no intention on following Alana’s orders.
Alana sat up straight in her chair, “Okay, you have my attention. Where is he?”
“The wolves are comin’ after ‘em,” The boy cried shifting impatiently in his dingy brown pants. “He can’t hold him off for long—and he’s got a cut—“
“Where the hell is he?” Her calm voice oozed with impatience. She was more than willing to aid the poor man, but with the excitement of the children, she began to concern herself with whether she would be able to reach him in time.
Alana shot up from her chair disappearing into the back of her home and returned with a few items.
“In the northern woods!” They shouted parting for her as she stormed out toward the stables.
“That’s fifteen minutes from now—“ She cut herself short before she could finish her sentence aloud.
He’d be lucky if the wolves don’t destroy him by the time I get there.
Here goes nothing. It's currently untitled.[/glow]
****Prologue****
Today. It has to be today. I’m through…
Alana paced nervously. Never before had she felt so terrified, but she knew what she had to do. She had to do the impossible, the unacceptable.
She stopped for a moment, taking a last glance around the well-furnished, comfortable dwelling of the castle that was a part of her family’s heritage for generations. Her room, possibly the most vibrant and welcoming of all thirty rooms in the relic, would be a place she could never forget. This room, with its shimmering lavender velvet floor, ivory curtains trimmed in gold covering enormous windows and a dozen hidden passageways, was a dwelling where she shared memories of her childhood.
Her first fight with her brother, her first kiss, her first lover, memories she would never let go.
Okay. Are you ready, Lana?
No, she wasn’t ready, and yet, she was. Her mind screamed no, don’t leave, are you mad? If you leave, you have no place to go. No friends outside of this city, and definitely more enemies. If you stay here, you have definite security of your family.
“But if I leave…” She began to pace again, worried she would wear a hole in the floor from pacing so much for so long, but she couldn’t stand still. “If I leave I’ll be free.” Nodding, she forced a smile to console herself. “Free…”
Yes, freedom. That’s what you truly want, her heart whispered softly. With freedom, you can finally be yourself. No more preoccupying yourself with the attitude of others. Isn’t that what you truly want? If you left, who would bother you? You are less of a threat alone without the protection of your family.
She inhaled the familiar scent of her room.
Will this be the last time I see you?
Lurching forward and almost tripping, she grabbed her sword by the hilt, and carefully secured it to her waist. She reached for the dark green velvet cloak next to her bag of belongings she decided to take, and fastened it loosely around her neck. Grabbing the medium sized bag made of thick animal hide; she paved the way for a chain of events she hadn’t braced herself for.
****Chapter One****
Alana gazed over her shoulder inhaling the intoxicating scent of an exquisite meal she prepared. A smile of satisfaction graced her full lips as she added the finishing touches to her last dish. Taking the giant porcelain-serving dish, she set it on a large circular wooden table with many other plates, bowls and glasses placed on it.
She took pride in the meals she made.
When she heard the soft footsteps of someone in her home, she gazed toward the open hallway leading upstairs. They sound seemed rather unsteady, and she stared towards the stair in disbelief. Slowly, but surely, a figure accompanied the sound.
A man, limping painfully down one step at a time, finally made his way to the shadowy hallway. He was poorly dressed, on the account of his broken arm, deep dagger wound in his chest and a bite mark to the calf; she didn’t bother to wonder why. Underneath dark tousled hair, peered glassy dark brown eyes gazing around hungrily with a sense of urgency. He managed to find his old worn out clothes that used to be stained with blood, dirt and food before Alana stripped him and cleaned them. Now he stood timidly in the hallway, small traveling bag in hand sizing up this small woman that he didn’t know.
“Where do you think you’re going?” She demanded wiping her hands on a cloth napkin, stood up and smoothed out her dark dress. Her eyes looked over his broken arm wrapped in bandages, supported by a brace made of strong cloth.
“I’m leaving.” His voice broke as he muttered his response looking past her towards the door another hall-length away.
“The hell you are.” She said softly, sauntering over to a chair closest to him and pulled it out for him to sit in. “You’ve been here for three days—beaten up—and you think you’re alright?”
“The clan’s looking for me—“ He insisted now more urgently shifting his weight from side to side turning down her silent invitation to eat.
“And?” She raised an eyebrow with a “so what?” expression on her face. “This place is a safe house—neutral—I have no concern for the clans and they know better than to show up in this town.”
Her tone suggested that arguing wouldn’t make her back down. Her only concern was nursing him back to health, no matter how stubborn they may be. But he didn’t bother to say anything else. He simply dropped his bag in the middle of the hallway, and made his way to the table. Patiently, he waited for her to set a plate in front of him, before he meekly sat at the table.
It took a long moment for her words to register in his mind. “Neutral? How do you know about the clan?”
She placed her fork down beside her plate, wondering how many questions he would ask her before he started to eat. “People from clans show up hurt around here often.”
“How often?” He finally began to eat, surrendering to his hunger.
“Don’t worry about it, no one’s going to hurt you in this town.” She repeated softly and began to eat.
“I’m not worried about being hurt. I’m waiting for someone.”
She ignored him, finally beginning to eat. She had no interest in clan issues and made it her personal mission to not get involved. As easy as it sounded, her previous membership in her family’s clan made it gradually more difficult to not show some sort of interest and concern. Rivalry and hatred between the clans were increasing, the numbers of massacres were rising in an alarming rate, and the survivors were few. Some made their way to neutral towns, but most were captured and killed.
Besides the survivors that made it to her door, she was deeply concerned for family. She hadn’t heard anything about them specifically in over three years; because of this, she couldn’t hide the fact that her nerves were frayed.
“Did you hear me?”
Alana gazed up from her plate, remembering he was there. Perhaps her silence alarmed him? “No, I didn’t.”
“His name is Aubrey.” He sounded aggravated even though he realized the change in his voice hardly fazed her.
“Let me tell you something.” She snapped, in an enraged tone, “I don’t care what his name is. Part of this place being neutral is not knowing a damned thing about the people I take care of. Remember that.”
They continued to eat in silence.
Alana had absolutely nothing else to say, and neither did he, even though she did wonder why the name sounded familiar.
“The food is really good.” He mumbled with a full mouth, helped himself to a second plate, and continued to feed his face.
Alana could see it in his face; she had broken the little bit of pride he had left with her comment. His face seemed somewhat ragged with pain. Not physical pain, but mental anguish. He had something he needed to say, and she refused to listen. She tried her best to ignore it.
“Thank you.” She forced a weak smile, observing the simple fact that she killed the already frail mood. There was nothing worse than a man with a bruised ego and pride.
“Miss Alana!”
An arctic wind ripped through the kitchen followed by a young boy and an adolescent girl. They stood in her kitchen, panting, their large green eyes darting around frantically from the man to Elana. Melting snow trickled from their bear skin shoes to her clean floor.
She stared at the puddle they stood in for a moment; an eyebrow rose impatiently waiting for an explanation as to why they exploded into her home like a pack of wild animals.
“Miss Alana, there’s a man ‘n the woods!” The boy started, half screaming excitedly and pointed wildly out the open door.
“There’s always men in the woods, children.” She said softly, frowned from the cold and glanced at the man. “Close my door, I have a sick person in here—and why don’t you wipe your feet?”
“But he’s hurt really badly,” The usually soft-spoken girl spoke up in desperation with no intention on following Alana’s orders.
Alana sat up straight in her chair, “Okay, you have my attention. Where is he?”
“The wolves are comin’ after ‘em,” The boy cried shifting impatiently in his dingy brown pants. “He can’t hold him off for long—and he’s got a cut—“
“Where the hell is he?” Her calm voice oozed with impatience. She was more than willing to aid the poor man, but with the excitement of the children, she began to concern herself with whether she would be able to reach him in time.
Alana shot up from her chair disappearing into the back of her home and returned with a few items.
“In the northern woods!” They shouted parting for her as she stormed out toward the stables.
“That’s fifteen minutes from now—“ She cut herself short before she could finish her sentence aloud.
He’d be lucky if the wolves don’t destroy him by the time I get there.
