I did! Hurray!
Granted, I'm not sure I like the last ten thousand words, but now that that scene's in there I don't think I can take them out... oh well.
I'm actually nowhere near the end of my novel, though--there's something I still want to include and they have to travel for a day or two to get there. So that's one thing on my list of things to do now that I've reached 50k.
Other things:
a) Give Jindal some attention, the poor dear.
b) Work on Blood-Red Sun. I've been having more ideas for it recently (when I should have been brainstorming my novel)
c) Start dealing with college stuff again. (This should probably be first on my list.)
d) Design and draw a picture for a Christmas card. This is highly tentative.
...My brain hurts.
I'll try to grab a fictionpress account and toss the story up on there sometime soon.
Showing posts with label NaNoWriMo. Show all posts
Showing posts with label NaNoWriMo. Show all posts
11.18.2007
11.05.2007
Jindal needs to be taught the facts of life. Also, remember remember.
Also, he needs to SHUT UP BECAUSE I'M TRYING TO WRITE A NOVEL HERE, but mostly he needs to be taught the facts of life.
Word count: 13779
Two things happened today. Well, more than two things, I suppose.
First of all, it was the fifth. As is fitting I wore black. Yuck. Remember remember, the fifth of November... did you know we the L fans adopted that? Yes, I am fairly certain that we did.
It was the first day of the new quarter. I am now in R.G.'s English class! Also in Elements and Principles of Design. Gah. Can we get to the DRAWING bit already? This is boring!
ALSO WHITE THINGS FELL FROM THE SKY. NOT VERY MANY WHITE THINGS, BUT DEFINITELY WHITE THINGS. It is only the fifth of November. T_____T Why should snow fall from the sky now?
Finally, Jindal and his Twili history are preying on my mind. Jindal revealed to me yesterday that he is very fond of Dawdon. Very fond. In fact he's saying that Dawdon is his beloved. This is a problem; Dawdon is male. Jindal is male. Midna is supposed to be Jindal's greatgreatgreatgreat etc granddaughter.
SOMETHING IS WRONG HERE.
Several times I have told Jindal that in order for this all to work out, he has to express interest in someone who HAS A WOMB. *shakes head wearily* Look, I know that Dawdon is dear to you, but... this just doesn't work, darling.
Anyway, here's what I have so far, continuing from an earlier entry, I think... Twilight Princess spoilers, of course.
--
Word count: 13779
Two things happened today. Well, more than two things, I suppose.
First of all, it was the fifth. As is fitting I wore black. Yuck. Remember remember, the fifth of November... did you know we the L fans adopted that? Yes, I am fairly certain that we did.
It was the first day of the new quarter. I am now in R.G.'s English class! Also in Elements and Principles of Design. Gah. Can we get to the DRAWING bit already? This is boring!
ALSO WHITE THINGS FELL FROM THE SKY. NOT VERY MANY WHITE THINGS, BUT DEFINITELY WHITE THINGS. It is only the fifth of November. T_____T Why should snow fall from the sky now?
Finally, Jindal and his Twili history are preying on my mind. Jindal revealed to me yesterday that he is very fond of Dawdon. Very fond. In fact he's saying that Dawdon is his beloved. This is a problem; Dawdon is male. Jindal is male. Midna is supposed to be Jindal's greatgreatgreatgreat etc granddaughter.
SOMETHING IS WRONG HERE.
Several times I have told Jindal that in order for this all to work out, he has to express interest in someone who HAS A WOMB. *shakes head wearily* Look, I know that Dawdon is dear to you, but... this just doesn't work, darling.
Anyway, here's what I have so far, continuing from an earlier entry, I think... Twilight Princess spoilers, of course.
--
Consciousness came back to me slowly. You… have never felt being a spirit, correct? We all did that day. It was like being only half-there, like having pieces of your soul break off and disintegrate. I was unwilling to move, even when I had regained full consciousness, and instead I stayed lying where I was. I, the prince of my people. I didn’t yet know I would soon be their ruler, but still, I could have been stronger.
I did not get up until a man came running up to me.
I had seen him before. He was one of the strongest warriors of our tribe, and father had commended him once or twice.
“Prince,” he said to me, looking anxiously into my face, “there is something I must show you. Come with me.”
He offered me his hand to help me up, and I stared at it for a moment. Pathetically, I did not want to get up. I just wanted to lie around until I felt better, and if I never felt better then I was fine with staying where I was until I died.
But he said “Prince, please,” and grasped my arm, half-forcing me to stand. So I went with him.
Around me, things looked strange. The light seemed… uncertain of itself, if that makes any sense at all. It seemed dirty, hazy. The sky was a strange color. When I looked around, it seemed that the land we stood on was an island, floating in… nothingness.
All in all, it made me feel sick to my stomach.
The man led me down a narrow stretch of land; and after we had walked for a few moments, I saw my mother and father. It could only be them, but there was no way for me to actually recognize them. Their bodies had been burnt—charred black in punishment for setting foot into the Sacred Realm. They no longer looked human. I fell to my knees in front of them as tears began to pour from my eyes. I tried to shut my eyes to keep the tears in—but then the warrior gasped. “Prince!”
I opened my eyes again, and through my tears I watched as my parents began to emit a strange, white-greenish glow and floated several feet off the ground. I watched in confusion and horror. The light emanating from their bodies grew brighter, brighter, too bright; I looked away. Then suddenly there was a rushing noise, and I looked back to my mother and father—but they were gone, and in their places floated two orbs of light.
Curiously, the light from these orbs refreshed and strengthened me.
By now you have figured out, of course, that these were the Sols, our version of the sun, which give energy to the world we now call Twilight. Very few of my people know of the origin of the Sols. It would be best that you did not tell my Princess.
The Sols, these orbs of light that had only moments before been my parents, floated higher and higher until they shed light on all of us.
“My king…” said the warrior, still next to me. His voice sounded stronger than it had before.
I pretended—or maybe it really didn’t even register, I don’t remember—not to know that he was talking to me; I looked towards the orb that had been my father.
“My king,” he said again, touching my shoulder. I shook my head.
“He’s your king,” I said, pointing. “I am the prince.”
“No, Jindal, you are king now,” he said, his voice softer on my name as if he feared I would be offended by his using it. “You are our king now.”
“My father—” I began, but I knew it was useless. The Sols shone and strengthened me. I swallowed the rest of my sentence. “I will rule, but I will always be the prince,” I said. “We must never forget what happened to my parents.”
And we never have, of course. My Princess said as much. The shame and horror and pain that result from rising against the goddesses are burned into every Twili soul. If a Twili were to think of defying the goddesses—it would be an anomaly in itself, but the Twili would be terrified of the idea. It’s part of who we are.
But I get ahead of myself again. I had no way of understanding any of that on the first day, or even at any time during my natural lifespan. Not until the goddesses infused me with the light of the moon, the sun’s inconsistent, muted cousin, could I step back from what I felt well enough to understand what had happened to us.
Back then, I tried to act kingly. “Warrior,” I addressed the man who had brought me to my parents, “you have shown great strength in bringing me here; I am impressed. What is your name?”
“Dawdon, my prince,” he replied with a bow.
“You show the potential to serve our tribe very well. Will you lead my royal guard?”
“I will, my prince.” He looked so noble and proud.
“Dawdon…” I whispered, my kingly attitude suddenly evaporating. “Will you support me?”
He knew I was not referring to my political ideas or my rule. I meant like a crutch. I was asking if he would hold me up, and he knew it.
“I will, my prince,” he said kindly, and he offered me his hand so I could stand.
10.26.2007
Okay... I'll post.
Yesterday I did not post because we went to C&T's semifinal soccer game. They lost and it was cold and I had to spend a long time on the bus, but it wasn't as bad as I'm making it sound.
But it was cold.
Today I discovered that Christopher Ott (and by conscious extension, his real-person Chris Rubinsky) speaks in Cockney rhyming slang! I had no idea! This guy is amazing. It was his sky-snake Quartz that claimed its existence and encouraged me to further develop the crew of the Daedalus, resulting in the continued importance of sky pirates. Hurray!
In econ we did a rather interesting activity, led by a speaker from the Minnesota School of Business (look, a link)--"The Cost of Independence." It was about budgeting and how much one needs to make to be independent... I'll only need to make $16.98 an hour to live--with nice standards--independently witha roommate.
...That sounded just a little stupid, but whatever.
It was rather uplifting.
Also, I finished the picture of Eddis so I am presenting those to Sounis right now. Oh, would you like to see them as well?
But it was cold.
Today I discovered that Christopher Ott (and by conscious extension, his real-person Chris Rubinsky) speaks in Cockney rhyming slang! I had no idea! This guy is amazing. It was his sky-snake Quartz that claimed its existence and encouraged me to further develop the crew of the Daedalus, resulting in the continued importance of sky pirates. Hurray!
In econ we did a rather interesting activity, led by a speaker from the Minnesota School of Business (look, a link)--"The Cost of Independence." It was about budgeting and how much one needs to make to be independent... I'll only need to make $16.98 an hour to live--with nice standards--independently witha roommate.
...That sounded just a little stupid, but whatever.
It was rather uplifting.
Also, I finished the picture of Eddis so I am presenting those to Sounis right now. Oh, would you like to see them as well?
10.21.2007
Well I have little better to do right now...
Technically I COULD be reading The Odyssey, but that's not due for another week...
I stole this from Sya, who stole it from this thread on NaNo.
1.) What is your character's name? Hieronymus Bisby.
2.) What does he/she look like? Short brown hair and a moustache. Average height--about 5'7. Weight is normal, and no, I don't have an estimate on that.
3.) Where does he/she live? I actually have not figured this out yet. I really should, since he's going to be road-tripping to where I live... How about a suburb of Chicago?
4.) How old is he/she? Twenty-seven.
5.) What time period does he/she live in? Modern.
6.) Does he/she have any relatives? Hmm... parents that he calls about once or twice a month? No siblings.
7.) What is his/her favorite color? brown or navy blue.
8.) What is his/her favorite food? No idea.
9.) What types of clothes does he/she wear? On the weekends, usually a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt. On weekdays, nice pants, collared shirt, and a blazer. Usually somewhere i the brown/tan spectrum
10.) Describe his/her pajamas: t-shirt and boxers.
11.) What is his/her favorite book? Hmm... something classical, something he would have read in school. I'm thinking Hemingway, but I've never actually read anything by Hemingway... (eep! Need to do that.)
12.) What is his/her favorite song/music genre? I'm really bad with genres. Slow rock? What does that sound like?
13.) How often does your character shower/brush his/her teeth? Showers every day before school. Brushes his teeth three times a day, including at school after lunch because he doesn't want to teach with crap stuck on his teeth.
14.) When was the last time he/she went out on a date? Hmmm... he dated another teacher-to-be for a while when he was a sophomore in college. They broke up because... Well, they didn't really break up. It sort of faded.
15.) Does he/she have allergies/asthma/some strange disease or susceptibility to disease? Nope.
16.) Does he/she play an instrument? No.
17.) Does he/she collect items? Nope.
18.) Does he/she have any friends? A few college friends, I guess... I guess I should probably involve one or two...
19.) If you could place your person in a high school, which groups would he/she "click" with? He's in a high school... but as a student, he'd probably gravitate towards the nerds/geeks without really standing out as one. An amateur geek.
20.) What hair styles does your character have? Boring ones. A little messy. I don't know how to describe guys' hair. ><
21.) If your character got lost in a forest, what would he/she do? Hmm... and this might actually turn out to be an important factor. He'd probably call someone and tell them, whether they could help him or not.
22.) If your character got flicked off by someone, what would he/she do? If it was a student, he'd probably discipline them by sending them to the principal or something. From one of the teachers, he'd feel hurt, possibly inadequate.
23.) If your character was asked out on a date by a random person, what would he/she do? ...He'd refuse, because he still has feelings for that girl he was going out in sophomore year, just because they never stated that it was over. Yeesh. (Some quick decisions about the girl: she studied abroad somewhere in Europe and got involved in a cushy ESL/teaching English as a language class over there, so she hasn't come back.)
24.) Does your character have any phobias? Nope.
25.) Does your character have a job/profession? Student teaching English at a high school.
26.) Is your character a morning person, or a late-night person? Both, he's still a student. xD;
27.) If your character met you, what would he/she say/do? Ahahahahahaha. I can't write that out, I need to wait. xD
28.) When is your character's birthday? I have no clue.
29.) What habits does your character have? Rubbing his temples when he's frustrated. He's a spectacular pencil-twirler. :D
30.) How would a character in your book who does not like this character describe him/her? A boring teacher. Despite his enthusiasm, he hasn't really developed a teaching style yet, so he's kinda boring.
Okay, I don't know where that girl came from. (Or, for that matter, where she is. Part of me wants to say the Netherlands.)
I stole this from Sya, who stole it from this thread on NaNo.
1.) What is your character's name? Hieronymus Bisby.
2.) What does he/she look like? Short brown hair and a moustache. Average height--about 5'7. Weight is normal, and no, I don't have an estimate on that.
3.) Where does he/she live? I actually have not figured this out yet. I really should, since he's going to be road-tripping to where I live... How about a suburb of Chicago?
4.) How old is he/she? Twenty-seven.
5.) What time period does he/she live in? Modern.
6.) Does he/she have any relatives? Hmm... parents that he calls about once or twice a month? No siblings.
7.) What is his/her favorite color? brown or navy blue.
8.) What is his/her favorite food? No idea.
9.) What types of clothes does he/she wear? On the weekends, usually a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt. On weekdays, nice pants, collared shirt, and a blazer. Usually somewhere i the brown/tan spectrum
10.) Describe his/her pajamas: t-shirt and boxers.
11.) What is his/her favorite book? Hmm... something classical, something he would have read in school. I'm thinking Hemingway, but I've never actually read anything by Hemingway... (eep! Need to do that.)
12.) What is his/her favorite song/music genre? I'm really bad with genres. Slow rock? What does that sound like?
13.) How often does your character shower/brush his/her teeth? Showers every day before school. Brushes his teeth three times a day, including at school after lunch because he doesn't want to teach with crap stuck on his teeth.
14.) When was the last time he/she went out on a date? Hmmm... he dated another teacher-to-be for a while when he was a sophomore in college. They broke up because... Well, they didn't really break up. It sort of faded.
15.) Does he/she have allergies/asthma/some strange disease or susceptibility to disease? Nope.
16.) Does he/she play an instrument? No.
17.) Does he/she collect items? Nope.
18.) Does he/she have any friends? A few college friends, I guess... I guess I should probably involve one or two...
19.) If you could place your person in a high school, which groups would he/she "click" with? He's in a high school... but as a student, he'd probably gravitate towards the nerds/geeks without really standing out as one. An amateur geek.
20.) What hair styles does your character have? Boring ones. A little messy. I don't know how to describe guys' hair. ><
21.) If your character got lost in a forest, what would he/she do? Hmm... and this might actually turn out to be an important factor. He'd probably call someone and tell them, whether they could help him or not.
22.) If your character got flicked off by someone, what would he/she do? If it was a student, he'd probably discipline them by sending them to the principal or something. From one of the teachers, he'd feel hurt, possibly inadequate.
23.) If your character was asked out on a date by a random person, what would he/she do? ...He'd refuse, because he still has feelings for that girl he was going out in sophomore year, just because they never stated that it was over. Yeesh. (Some quick decisions about the girl: she studied abroad somewhere in Europe and got involved in a cushy ESL/teaching English as a language class over there, so she hasn't come back.)
24.) Does your character have any phobias? Nope.
25.) Does your character have a job/profession? Student teaching English at a high school.
26.) Is your character a morning person, or a late-night person? Both, he's still a student. xD;
27.) If your character met you, what would he/she say/do? Ahahahahahaha. I can't write that out, I need to wait. xD
28.) When is your character's birthday? I have no clue.
29.) What habits does your character have? Rubbing his temples when he's frustrated. He's a spectacular pencil-twirler. :D
30.) How would a character in your book who does not like this character describe him/her? A boring teacher. Despite his enthusiasm, he hasn't really developed a teaching style yet, so he's kinda boring.
Okay, I don't know where that girl came from. (Or, for that matter, where she is. Part of me wants to say the Netherlands.)
10.20.2007
I love my muse.
I love her I love her I love her.
The Heroic Quest is going to involve steampunk LARP-ing. With the sky pirates used in the OMWP dare. Yay for the crew of the Daedalus! I am so psyched.
Ahhhhhhh.
I'd better get back to designing them, then, since they're actually going to be rather major...
The Heroic Quest is going to involve steampunk LARP-ing. With the sky pirates used in the OMWP dare. Yay for the crew of the Daedalus! I am so psyched.
Ahhhhhhh.
I'd better get back to designing them, then, since they're actually going to be rather major...
10.19.2007
So-far soundtrack to Hieronymus Bisby:
Hieronymus Bisby: It’s a Holiday Tomorrow (?), Rustle
Yeah, Right:
*Calli: You Mean, During the Break?
Miranda: Supper of the Old Days (?)
Miranda’s Irritation: Hello, Kitty Girl
A Heroic Quest: Brave Willing & TP Medly
Crazy School: Of All Circumstances, Hang On
Penguin Stampede: Miss Yukari Goes Wild 1&2
Once More, With (Sky) Pirates!: Naval Affair
Meeting the Author: Pone, Refrain of Memory, Family Portrait (lain)
Reaction to a Dare: …Well, It’s a Tightrope,
>>Also used for discovering what WallofIllusion writes
Class Discussion: What Are You Talking About?
Jindal (if they meet him): Misty, Strange Dimension
Mostly Azumanga Daioh and Last Exile stuff, with a few others. I need to go through the Azu again to find out which one will work for "Yeah, Right" (I have the tune in mind, but I don't remember what it's called), and Calli's theme is uncertain. She's the one I'm having the most trouble with... I sort of want to make it some indie-pop song, but lyrics would distract me, and unless they're exactly fitted to her personality, it'll just be impossible. So at the moment she gets one of the upbeat break themes.
...Yeah, it really doesn't fit. *headdesk* Back to the... listening board? A DJ Tsar song, perhaps... and I want to be high-pitched and fairly bouncy... No, I know most of those already! Maybe something J-pop-ish? *walks off muttering*
I do rather like "Hello, Kitty Girl" for "Miranda's Irritation."
EDIT: Okay, I've got a more solid list now.
What else I did today: I started writing a history of the Twili from the perspective of Jindal, as told to Anachron. I guess you wouldn't mind seeing that, huh? ("You" tte dare nan da yo.) I'll type it up at the end of the entry, spoilers as usual...
We also went and got passports today. That was long... and after that we went shopping. First at TJ Maxx--I got knit armwarmers with removable gloves. How much does that ROCK? Oh, and I got a shirt. Then Barnes&Noble, where I got Reborn 5. Ranking Futa for the win! You know, this author really can create lovely characters. And then off to Kohl's, where I got several long-sleeved shirts. Stocking up for the winter.
And then I came home and did ^that. :3
Okay, so the Twili history dealio. The spoilers start here.
...Oh, and by the way, I don't own the Legend of Zelda franchise. I don't think I've been disclaiming anything in here. Sorry for misleading you.
~
We were not kind people.
You know enough to know that, right? We tried to take over the world. But even before we tried to force our way into the Sacred Realm, we were warlike, ruthless. Little better than a tribe of wandering raiders.
For example: I learned to use a knife when I was three and was a master by the time I was five. It wasn't an uncommon thing. Everyone in the tribe could fight.
And then there was the magic.
You've seen our destructive magic--utilized it. My Princess has remembered it, though generation upon generation has forgotten. I don't know how she remembered it... I can't know. There are things I can't do despite the divinity I've been granted. Semi-divinity, I suppose. But I'll get to that later.
Do you understand? All of us, even the children, made our living by killing and stealing. We were cruel, immoral. And power-hungry, as you know.
I became the prince of the tribe. Became. I wasn't born into the role, just as my father wasn't born into the role of king. Father took that position when I was six--murdered the former king of our tribe. And Mother and I helped finish off the royal family.
...You are disgusted. Would it calm you at all to know that I am, too? What my parents and I did was despicable. A few thousand years in the light of the Sols has ground that knowledge into my mind.
But I said am, not was--I was not disgustedwith my actions at the time. I was... vicious. Energized.
You look rather ill; shall we move on?
I apologize. The history of my tribe is not pleasant.
My father--we--did not exterminate the previous royalty without... reason. He had an idea for our tribe to gain more power--yes. It was my father who came up with the plan to break into the Sacred Realm. The previous ruler wouldn't allow it--but don't assume it was out of wisdom that he refused. He was unambitious, yes, but obsessed with his own power. Miserly--despicable.
But then, my father was despicable as well, and I.
We're pathetic people.
As for how we [intended to get? got? I forget] into the Sacred Realm, I can't really tell you. I don't remember--the goddesses made sure to wipe that particular memory from our minds, along with our ambition and cruelty. In their mercy.
All I know is that it involved combining* our power in support of Mother and Father, who were the ones to actually trespass in the Secred Realm.
And of course you know the outcome of that attempt.
I do remember some things--most thoroughly, pain. That has always bothered me the most. I don't remember what it felt like to be as focused as I was, but occasionally, back when I could still sleep, I would remember in dreams the pain of that focus being broken. It was like a knife going through my forehead. The pain drove everyone to unconsciouness.
~
*This turned into a nanoism when I was handwriting it: combing, rather than combining.
Please note that when Jindal refers to things as "my," he's not really being loving/respectful like Gen saying "My Queen." Think more along the lines of Gollum's myyyy preciousssssssss.
Yeah, Right:
*Calli: You Mean, During the Break?
Miranda: Supper of the Old Days (?)
Miranda’s Irritation: Hello, Kitty Girl
A Heroic Quest: Brave Willing & TP Medly
Crazy School: Of All Circumstances, Hang On
Penguin Stampede: Miss Yukari Goes Wild 1&2
Once More, With (Sky) Pirates!: Naval Affair
Meeting the Author: Pone, Refrain of Memory, Family Portrait (lain)
Reaction to a Dare: …Well, It’s a Tightrope,
>>Also used for discovering what WallofIllusion writes
Class Discussion: What Are You Talking About?
Jindal (if they meet him): Misty, Strange Dimension
Mostly Azumanga Daioh and Last Exile stuff, with a few others. I need to go through the Azu again to find out which one will work for "Yeah, Right" (I have the tune in mind, but I don't remember what it's called), and Calli's theme is uncertain. She's the one I'm having the most trouble with... I sort of want to make it some indie-pop song, but lyrics would distract me, and unless they're exactly fitted to her personality, it'll just be impossible. So at the moment she gets one of the upbeat break themes.
...Yeah, it really doesn't fit. *headdesk* Back to the... listening board? A DJ Tsar song, perhaps... and I want to be high-pitched and fairly bouncy... No, I know most of those already! Maybe something J-pop-ish? *walks off muttering*
I do rather like "Hello, Kitty Girl" for "Miranda's Irritation."
EDIT: Okay, I've got a more solid list now.
Hieronymus Bisby: Of All Circumstances
Yeah, Right: Somehow
Calliope: Forest Cake
Miranda: 期待
Miranda’s Indignation: Hello, Kitty Girl
A Heroic Quest: Brave Willing & TP Medly
Crazy School: Hang On
Penguin Stampede: Miss Yukari Goes Wild 1&2
Once More, With (Sky) Pirates!: Naval Affair
Meeting the Author: Pone, Refrain of Memory, Family Portrait (lain)
Reaction to a Dare: …Well, It’s a Tightrope,
>Also used for discovering what WallofIllusion writes
Class Discussion: What Are You Talking About?
Jindal (if they meet him): Misty, Strange Dimension
What else I did today: I started writing a history of the Twili from the perspective of Jindal, as told to Anachron. I guess you wouldn't mind seeing that, huh? ("You" tte dare nan da yo.) I'll type it up at the end of the entry, spoilers as usual...
We also went and got passports today. That was long... and after that we went shopping. First at TJ Maxx--I got knit armwarmers with removable gloves. How much does that ROCK? Oh, and I got a shirt. Then Barnes&Noble, where I got Reborn 5. Ranking Futa for the win! You know, this author really can create lovely characters. And then off to Kohl's, where I got several long-sleeved shirts. Stocking up for the winter.
And then I came home and did ^that. :3
Okay, so the Twili history dealio. The spoilers start here.
...Oh, and by the way, I don't own the Legend of Zelda franchise. I don't think I've been disclaiming anything in here. Sorry for misleading you.
~
We were not kind people.
You know enough to know that, right? We tried to take over the world. But even before we tried to force our way into the Sacred Realm, we were warlike, ruthless. Little better than a tribe of wandering raiders.
For example: I learned to use a knife when I was three and was a master by the time I was five. It wasn't an uncommon thing. Everyone in the tribe could fight.
And then there was the magic.
You've seen our destructive magic--utilized it. My Princess has remembered it, though generation upon generation has forgotten. I don't know how she remembered it... I can't know. There are things I can't do despite the divinity I've been granted. Semi-divinity, I suppose. But I'll get to that later.
Do you understand? All of us, even the children, made our living by killing and stealing. We were cruel, immoral. And power-hungry, as you know.
I became the prince of the tribe. Became. I wasn't born into the role, just as my father wasn't born into the role of king. Father took that position when I was six--murdered the former king of our tribe. And Mother and I helped finish off the royal family.
...You are disgusted. Would it calm you at all to know that I am, too? What my parents and I did was despicable. A few thousand years in the light of the Sols has ground that knowledge into my mind.
But I said am, not was--I was not disgustedwith my actions at the time. I was... vicious. Energized.
You look rather ill; shall we move on?
I apologize. The history of my tribe is not pleasant.
My father--we--did not exterminate the previous royalty without... reason. He had an idea for our tribe to gain more power--yes. It was my father who came up with the plan to break into the Sacred Realm. The previous ruler wouldn't allow it--but don't assume it was out of wisdom that he refused. He was unambitious, yes, but obsessed with his own power. Miserly--despicable.
But then, my father was despicable as well, and I.
We're pathetic people.
As for how we [intended to get? got? I forget] into the Sacred Realm, I can't really tell you. I don't remember--the goddesses made sure to wipe that particular memory from our minds, along with our ambition and cruelty. In their mercy.
All I know is that it involved combining* our power in support of Mother and Father, who were the ones to actually trespass in the Secred Realm.
And of course you know the outcome of that attempt.
I do remember some things--most thoroughly, pain. That has always bothered me the most. I don't remember what it felt like to be as focused as I was, but occasionally, back when I could still sleep, I would remember in dreams the pain of that focus being broken. It was like a knife going through my forehead. The pain drove everyone to unconsciouness.
~
*This turned into a nanoism when I was handwriting it: combing, rather than combining.
Please note that when Jindal refers to things as "my," he's not really being loving/respectful like Gen saying "My Queen." Think more along the lines of Gollum's myyyy preciousssssssss.
10.12.2007
Cody says hi.
And then he walked right back out of the room. XD That silly puppy of ours. He got quite riled up tonight; we were watching Court Jester. Good movie, that, though I kept trying to connect things to court life in Attolia. *shakes head* Primarily for clothes issues, though if I want to write them I should have an idea of how things are set up anyway...
And anyway none of the clothes looked fitting. Though there's a coat on Gaia that seriously made me want to tektek Gen, an Elegent-set one... *runs off and does so*
THERE ARE INSUFFICIENT CANARY-SUITING ITEMS. >:C
Here.
Tis Gen.
I made Attolia earlier today, but I was unsatisfied with it. (Though I did like the combination of Golden Laurels with the Glamrock Ruby Headband for her headband, and the red/gold heart earrings. XDD)
...Oh, dang, I could have made the shades of yellow NOT MATCH! Hello! Oh well. That would defeat the purpose of tektekking...
Um, there are very possibly NaNo people reading this. And they are wondering what on Earth I am talking about. (But if they understood, that would be awesome! I brought Queen of Attolia to school today and there was a girl who had read it. <3)
I suppose it wouldn't really surprise a NaNoer that I'm insane, aren't we all?
It's odd having other people read this. xD Or even thinking aobut the possibility. It's a strange possibility, despite the fact that that's the point of putting it on the Internet.
Anyway... I'm trying to play with ideas to distance Hieronymus Bisby from Stranger than Fiction a little more. So far my main option is to have the psychic (twice I've named her Clara and twice she has rejected the name, so I need to find a different name for her, as well as a description etc etc) encouraging Bisby to do things as concisely as possible in order to fool the author and make her lose interest in this whole mad project. There is a point to this. I'm not sure I'm willing to reveal it quite yet... (Dare ni?) The author then responds by forcing him into inconvenient situations. ...Or something.
And anyway none of the clothes looked fitting. Though there's a coat on Gaia that seriously made me want to tektek Gen, an Elegent-set one... *runs off and does so*
THERE ARE INSUFFICIENT CANARY-SUITING ITEMS. >:C
Here.
Tis Gen.
I made Attolia earlier today, but I was unsatisfied with it. (Though I did like the combination of Golden Laurels with the Glamrock Ruby Headband for her headband, and the red/gold heart earrings. XDD)
...Oh, dang, I could have made the shades of yellow NOT MATCH! Hello! Oh well. That would defeat the purpose of tektekking...
Um, there are very possibly NaNo people reading this. And they are wondering what on Earth I am talking about. (But if they understood, that would be awesome! I brought Queen of Attolia to school today and there was a girl who had read it. <3)
I suppose it wouldn't really surprise a NaNoer that I'm insane, aren't we all?
It's odd having other people read this. xD Or even thinking aobut the possibility. It's a strange possibility, despite the fact that that's the point of putting it on the Internet.
Anyway... I'm trying to play with ideas to distance Hieronymus Bisby from Stranger than Fiction a little more. So far my main option is to have the psychic (twice I've named her Clara and twice she has rejected the name, so I need to find a different name for her, as well as a description etc etc) encouraging Bisby to do things as concisely as possible in order to fool the author and make her lose interest in this whole mad project. There is a point to this. I'm not sure I'm willing to reveal it quite yet... (Dare ni?) The author then responds by forcing him into inconvenient situations. ...Or something.
10.11.2007
I think I have a plan.
I think I shall finish planning and start writing "Leak" (...Leak...?) (Have more confidence in yourself!) this month; Hieronymus Bisby's Abruptly Not-Ordinary Life, being more NaNo-specific, will be written next month.
This means I need random scenarios to put Hieronymus in. Poor man. He's going to suffer. Particularly on the fifth. Eyurgh, that's coming up.
I'm feeling slightly better now.
This means I need random scenarios to put Hieronymus in. Poor man. He's going to suffer. Particularly on the fifth. Eyurgh, that's coming up.
I'm feeling slightly better now.
10.10.2007
Darn that muse of mine.
She just gave me a new idea. A new, completely different idea. It involves the name I've wanted to use--Hieronymous Bisby, I mean, who can pass up an amazing name like that?--and it would be completely un-serious. He gets a call one day informing him that he's a character in a novel by an increasingly desperate author who needs to write 50k words by the end of the month. (Wait, this sounds familiar!) He then goes on a quest to find this author and convince her to stop throwing random things (like fifteen-chickens-in-every-chapter) into his life.
Anyway... I still have a cold, and THAT THING started today. What a miserable combination. Good night.
Anyway... I still have a cold, and THAT THING started today. What a miserable combination. Good night.
10.03.2007
Where did this ambition come from?
The Undergrounders from my story decided to overthrow the Wizards' government. What the heck? Where did that ambition COME from? They're supposed to be based on the Twili, for goodness' sake! Augh.
This morning after I finished my computer lab Econ work I went wandering. I visited the Japanese Death Note site and found that one of the DVD covers contained a scene from freakin' 58. *hatred* And it was the biggest one pictured! *hatredhatredhatredanddistress* Hatred. And then I went to the English one and there was still no "Extras" (they've been "Coming Soon" since the beginning of the summer!). And. I went to Right Stuf to see if there was any merch--there was, by the way, but only one L thing, I mean seriously, grr--and. The novel was there. Coming out in February. So now I'm dealing with a search for a new dream... again.
This, and the whole 58 thing, resulted in an awful mood. It evaporated by lunch, though.
...Yeah, it makes me unhappy, but dang it, I'd been hoping. Is a demon, is a demon, is a demon. Dang it, how many times are you going to tell yourself that before you'll stop relying on hope? How could you ever get the novel? You're seventeen, no experience, no idea how the translating industry works. There's no reason whatsoever you should have been embracing a dream like that. You translated it and that should be more than enough for you.
That's all.
This morning after I finished my computer lab Econ work I went wandering. I visited the Japanese Death Note site and found that one of the DVD covers contained a scene from freakin' 58. *hatred* And it was the biggest one pictured! *hatredhatredhatredanddistress* Hatred. And then I went to the English one and there was still no "Extras" (they've been "Coming Soon" since the beginning of the summer!). And. I went to Right Stuf to see if there was any merch--there was, by the way, but only one L thing, I mean seriously, grr--and. The novel was there. Coming out in February. So now I'm dealing with a search for a new dream... again.
This, and the whole 58 thing, resulted in an awful mood. It evaporated by lunch, though.
...Yeah, it makes me unhappy, but dang it, I'd been hoping. Is a demon, is a demon, is a demon. Dang it, how many times are you going to tell yourself that before you'll stop relying on hope? How could you ever get the novel? You're seventeen, no experience, no idea how the translating industry works. There's no reason whatsoever you should have been embracing a dream like that. You translated it and that should be more than enough for you.
That's all.
10.02.2007
I had a brilliant idea for a title earlier today.
It left.
And I don't... really feel like blogging right now. I'll try to muster something.
Here, see what I wrote this morning. The NaNo forums are open!
~
Anachron furrowed his brow. A thought was flitting on the edge of his mind; if he could just hold onto it for a second--
Oh.
"Jindal," he said abruptly, turning to the Twilight god, who tweaked an eyebrow in reply. Slowly, Anachron asked, "How much of this did you plan?"
Jindal's face took on an inquisitive air. "Plan? How much of what? I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about, my Beast."
Anachron shook his head. "I think you do, though," he said. "Your intention in granting that higher potential was to restore the Twili to their former potential, wasn't it?"
"Of course."
"How could one person in a generation help that?"
~
When I started thinking about this part of the scene more, Anachron abruptly informed me that he was the one to realize this. (Or at least, to point it out. Din and probably Farore and Nayru already noticed, but they haven't said anything. Well, Din said a little.) I was surprised.
And I don't... really feel like blogging right now. I'll try to muster something.
Here, see what I wrote this morning. The NaNo forums are open!
Dear Michelle,
Look, I'm sorry I never drew you, and I'm sorry I've been focusing on the other characters' characterization more, but really. That was no reason to turn evil. Seriously. I thought you and Myra got along, and now this.
Sincerely,
WallofIllusion
Dear Muse,
I'm going to take a leap of faith here and assume you exist, because ideas are appearing in my head with charming regularity. However, I would like to be able to speak directly to you, so if you could appear and possibly name yourself, that'd be lovely.
If naming yourself is too much trouble, could you at least please HELP ME NAME MY NOVEL?!
Sincerely,
WallofIllusion
~
Anachron furrowed his brow. A thought was flitting on the edge of his mind; if he could just hold onto it for a second--
Oh.
"Jindal," he said abruptly, turning to the Twilight god, who tweaked an eyebrow in reply. Slowly, Anachron asked, "How much of this did you plan?"
Jindal's face took on an inquisitive air. "Plan? How much of what? I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about, my Beast."
Anachron shook his head. "I think you do, though," he said. "Your intention in granting that higher potential was to restore the Twili to their former potential, wasn't it?"
"Of course."
"How could one person in a generation help that?"
~
When I started thinking about this part of the scene more, Anachron abruptly informed me that he was the one to realize this. (Or at least, to point it out. Din and probably Farore and Nayru already noticed, but they haven't said anything. Well, Din said a little.) I was surprised.
9.28.2007
So I have pep band tonight and I won't feel like writing anything at eleven.
True fact. Facts, I suppose.
Econ was yawn-inducing, English was the Handmaid's Tale test--not too hard--and then free time, freep I'll talk about in a moment, and in band we didn't have to do anything for the first half, and then we played patriotic music. And then there was a Homecoming assembly and the band played, and the entire school fits on ONE site of the gymnasium, though only the band really had breathing room. HA! -pokes you menacingly with a flute-
During freep today, I wrote 1683 words. Yes. I did! They were all (okay... mostly) about Gateaux de Lacet, the first scene where Umeko is at her uncle's funeral.
It's for NaNoWriMo practice. As such, it has padding and nonsense included. You get to see it in its unedited form! Perhaps later I shall edit it.
~
Under a gray sky like wrinkled silk, a sea of black rested, quivering with tears. [NAME Inoue], quite possibly the second greatest Shakespearean actor Japan had ever known, had died last month in a tragic accident of falling scenery, and his friends, relatives, and admirers were here to mourn.
Well, mostly his relatives and admirers; for an actor, Inoue had been quite reclusive and unwilling to deal with strangers any more than necessary. He had few lasting relationships in the acting world (though his acquaintances in the drinking world were, by his own estimate, plentiful) and the only people he would readily speak to outside of work were his family. They sat in the front row of his funeral—his mother and father, both in funeral kimonos, provided such things exist, his stoic-faced father clutching his mother’s shoulders tightly as the woman held a handkerchief to her mouth and sobbed. No don’t stop keep writing His brother, [NAME2] Inoue, sat with his own wife and daughter. [NAME2] was dressed in a simple suite, I mean suit of course, and his wife in a plain black dress.
His daughter, Umeko Inoue, was another matter all together.
Umeko was into the Lolita street fashion—very into it. At the moment, she was clad in an Elegant Gothic Aristocrat dress, made of pure black whatever material Elegant Gothic Aristocrat outfits are made of. Silver grommets, laced with shiny black ribbon decorated the front for a corseted effect. Her collar rose around her neck with scalloped, ruffled edges. Similarly, the ends of her sleeves were ruffled, and where the sleeves joined the dress, they puffed neatly. Her skirt was long and black, and it reached her feet, almost but not quite concealing her elegant, patent leather platform boots, also black. She had done her hair in a bun with ringlets hanging in front of her ears, and clipped into her hair was a flower barrette with a lacy black veil half-obscuring her face. She wore lacy black gloves and clutched a petite handbag. Her face was solemn, as befitting Elegant Gothic Aristocrats.
Behind the family sat the admirers. He had quite a few, and the number who had managed to make it to the funeral was not small. He had been an exceptionally talented theatre actor; he was best known for his role of Hamlet, though in his lifetime (tragically ended as it was), he had performed all of Shakespeare’s best well-known male characters, and, in a few more traditional performances, several of his female characters as well. His range of emotional expression was incredible; in a single moment, he could change from lamentably lachrymose to exuberantly ecstatic, portraying both emotions and even the abrupt switch between them flawlessly and with breathtaking conviction.
He had, though, as stated, almost no friends.
The person he was closest to in life was, to many people’s surprise, Umeko. For several reasons, they had gotten along very well. Perhaps it was because neither of them was an exceedingly traditional Japanese person; in fact, both harbored intense love for England, especially some of its historic eras. Inoue, naturally, adored Renaissance and Tudor England, which fueled his love of Shakespeare. He despised modern adaptation, much preferring period costuming and set effects. (Ironic that a primitive set then killed him.) Umeko, on the other hand, had a deep fascination with Victorian England, especially the clothes. It is on Victorian dolls that Lolita styles are based, and in fact, Elegant Gothic Aristocrat is based on Victorian Funerary wear, so it made perfect sense for Umeko to wear Elegant Gothic Aristocrat to her uncle’s funeral.
There was another bond that they shared, and it laid in food. Inoue loved sweet baked goods like cakes, pastries, Danishes, brownies, and funnel cakes, but he was an absolutely abysmal cook. He could not bake a brownie to save his life and occasionally managed to even burn Rice Krispie treats, provided they have Rice Krispie treats in Japan. Umeko, on the other hand, adored baking. She had recently graduated from one of Japan’s most prestigious cooking academies with full honors, and the treats she baked were heavenly and delicious. She had won several cooking contests when she was younger, though more recently a young man named Naoki whatever had entered the cooking scene and was beating the pants off of even the most experienced bakers, often while singing a little nonsense song in English: “Milk in the batter, milk in the batter! We make cake, and nothing’s the matter!” So, whenever Inoue got a chance to take a break from his illustrious acting career and visit Umeko, she would make him a plate of delicious Snickerdoodle cookies or a whole strawberry cheesecake. This, too, brought them much closer together.
His favorite treat had always been double-layer strawberry and chocolate cheesecake, so for his funeral, Umeko had made one, pouring her heart and soul into it, as well as a few tears that had slipped in. She really had been very fond of her uncle.
As the funerary service finished, Umeko took a small embroidered handkerchief out of her petite clutch purse and wiped her eyes. Yikes um not focused. Then she and her parents stood and went to speak to some of the other guests. Her father slowly went to speak to his parents. Her mother graciously went to speak to some of the admirers, most of whom were bawling much harder than even poor Inoue’s mother. Umeko decided that she, too, had better do her part, and she wandered over to the refreshment table. There was her double-layer strawberry and chocolate cheesecake, just as her uncle would have loved. She sniffed, and then she was surprised to hear a cough from her left, roughly at the height of her elbow.
“Ms. Umeko Inoue, isn’t that right?” said an old man’s voice (speaking with such Japanese-old-manisms like “ja” and all that stuff the Kino characters use), and Umeko turned to look at the speaker. The old man was wringing his hands and looking up at her, because he was quite short, really only about as tall as to reach up to her elbow.
“Yes, I’m Umeko Inoue,” Umeko Inoue answered politely. “May I ask your name?”
“I am [NAME NAME], your uncle’s financial advisor.”
Umeko nodded understandingly. Her uncle had been as awful with finances as he had been with cooking. In fact, the man had had no practical skills whatsoever—but what an actor he had been!
“I’m deeply sorry for your loss,” the wizened financial advisor sympathized. “I like to think that perhaps your uncle considered me a friend as well, but the love he expressed for you was greater than any other he ever talked about.”
He squinted at her, and Umeko wasn’t sure whether this was because he was having trouble seeing, or because he was holding back tears, or because he was scrutinizing her. In any case, he nodded inexplicably, and continued, “Yes, your uncle was quite fond of you—I don’t mean that in a strange way, of course, but in the sweetest way possible. He loved you and he loved acting, and perhaps nothing else in the world, so all the love that he had was concentrated in those two things. He loved the cakes and cookies you’d make for him—he shared pieces of your cake with me sometimes, you know. It was delicious. Your love for him was like a tangible ingredient in it.”
Umeko bit her lip with the effort of holding back tears.
“Oh, I’m sorry, my dear Ms. Umeko,” the old financial advisor exclaimed, seeing her distress. “I realize that this must be so painful for you. It is never easy to lose a family member, or anyone who is precious to you, but to lose your uncle… Tragic, yes, how tragic… I just wanted to make sure you understood how deeply your uncle felt about you.” He gave a slow nod. “Of course, it will be clear soon. Very soon. You’ll see, when it is read…”
“When what is read, Mr. NAME?” Umeko questioned the old man.
“You’ll see,” the old man said again. “You’ll see. It is quite remarkable… incredible… completely unbelievable. I never would have believed it. Quite irregular, but he never was a regular man, was he?”
Umeko was flummoxed; she was bewildered. She had no idea what the old financial advisor could possibly be talking about. However, she knew that it is best to always be polite, so she simply answered the part of the old financial advisor’s statements that she had understood. “No, he wasn’t a regular man. He despised being normal, in fact, and he encouraged me to be as abnormal as possible. An unusual sentiment in a Japanese man, but actors are known for being strange. I suspect he was delighted when I adopted the Lolita style of dress.”
“Yes, yes,” the wizened Mr. NAME said again. “And by the way, you do look quite beautiful, Ms. Inoue. Old-fashioned and… kurashii, in a way. Classy. I like it.”
“Thank you,” Umeko said with a smile. Now she was back on solid ground; gracefully receiving compliments on her style of dress was something that she was quite used to doing. “It is from Moi Dix Mois. In fact, it’s one of Moi Dix Mois’s newest styles. When I heard about my poor uncle, I decided to buy it.”
The old man smiled and nodded, though Umeko doubted that he’d ever heard of the company Moi Dix Mois. But he, like she, and like any other Japanese person, was trained in the art of pleasing the other person.
“Well, I shall see you later, Ms. Umeko Inoue,” said Mr. [NAME]. “It was a pleasure to meet you at long last. Very interesting. I can see why your uncle loved you so much; you are rather similar to him. I’m beginning to understand why he did what he did.”
And without explaining what he meant by “why he did what he did,” the old financial advisor gave a little bow and walked away.
~
I made these comments to myself after finishing:
Interesting ideas that came out of it: Love concentrated in one or two things. Strange and a little romantic in a weird way.
Econ was yawn-inducing, English was the Handmaid's Tale test--not too hard--and then free time, freep I'll talk about in a moment, and in band we didn't have to do anything for the first half, and then we played patriotic music. And then there was a Homecoming assembly and the band played, and the entire school fits on ONE site of the gymnasium, though only the band really had breathing room. HA! -pokes you menacingly with a flute-
During freep today, I wrote 1683 words. Yes. I did! They were all (okay... mostly) about Gateaux de Lacet, the first scene where Umeko is at her uncle's funeral.
It's for NaNoWriMo practice. As such, it has padding and nonsense included. You get to see it in its unedited form! Perhaps later I shall edit it.
~
Under a gray sky like wrinkled silk, a sea of black rested, quivering with tears. [NAME Inoue], quite possibly the second greatest Shakespearean actor Japan had ever known, had died last month in a tragic accident of falling scenery, and his friends, relatives, and admirers were here to mourn.
Well, mostly his relatives and admirers; for an actor, Inoue had been quite reclusive and unwilling to deal with strangers any more than necessary. He had few lasting relationships in the acting world (though his acquaintances in the drinking world were, by his own estimate, plentiful) and the only people he would readily speak to outside of work were his family. They sat in the front row of his funeral—his mother and father, both in funeral kimonos, provided such things exist, his stoic-faced father clutching his mother’s shoulders tightly as the woman held a handkerchief to her mouth and sobbed. No don’t stop keep writing His brother, [NAME2] Inoue, sat with his own wife and daughter. [NAME2] was dressed in a simple suite, I mean suit of course, and his wife in a plain black dress.
His daughter, Umeko Inoue, was another matter all together.
Umeko was into the Lolita street fashion—very into it. At the moment, she was clad in an Elegant Gothic Aristocrat dress, made of pure black whatever material Elegant Gothic Aristocrat outfits are made of. Silver grommets, laced with shiny black ribbon decorated the front for a corseted effect. Her collar rose around her neck with scalloped, ruffled edges. Similarly, the ends of her sleeves were ruffled, and where the sleeves joined the dress, they puffed neatly. Her skirt was long and black, and it reached her feet, almost but not quite concealing her elegant, patent leather platform boots, also black. She had done her hair in a bun with ringlets hanging in front of her ears, and clipped into her hair was a flower barrette with a lacy black veil half-obscuring her face. She wore lacy black gloves and clutched a petite handbag. Her face was solemn, as befitting Elegant Gothic Aristocrats.
Behind the family sat the admirers. He had quite a few, and the number who had managed to make it to the funeral was not small. He had been an exceptionally talented theatre actor; he was best known for his role of Hamlet, though in his lifetime (tragically ended as it was), he had performed all of Shakespeare’s best well-known male characters, and, in a few more traditional performances, several of his female characters as well. His range of emotional expression was incredible; in a single moment, he could change from lamentably lachrymose to exuberantly ecstatic, portraying both emotions and even the abrupt switch between them flawlessly and with breathtaking conviction.
He had, though, as stated, almost no friends.
The person he was closest to in life was, to many people’s surprise, Umeko. For several reasons, they had gotten along very well. Perhaps it was because neither of them was an exceedingly traditional Japanese person; in fact, both harbored intense love for England, especially some of its historic eras. Inoue, naturally, adored Renaissance and Tudor England, which fueled his love of Shakespeare. He despised modern adaptation, much preferring period costuming and set effects. (Ironic that a primitive set then killed him.) Umeko, on the other hand, had a deep fascination with Victorian England, especially the clothes. It is on Victorian dolls that Lolita styles are based, and in fact, Elegant Gothic Aristocrat is based on Victorian Funerary wear, so it made perfect sense for Umeko to wear Elegant Gothic Aristocrat to her uncle’s funeral.
There was another bond that they shared, and it laid in food. Inoue loved sweet baked goods like cakes, pastries, Danishes, brownies, and funnel cakes, but he was an absolutely abysmal cook. He could not bake a brownie to save his life and occasionally managed to even burn Rice Krispie treats, provided they have Rice Krispie treats in Japan. Umeko, on the other hand, adored baking. She had recently graduated from one of Japan’s most prestigious cooking academies with full honors, and the treats she baked were heavenly and delicious. She had won several cooking contests when she was younger, though more recently a young man named Naoki whatever had entered the cooking scene and was beating the pants off of even the most experienced bakers, often while singing a little nonsense song in English: “Milk in the batter, milk in the batter! We make cake, and nothing’s the matter!” So, whenever Inoue got a chance to take a break from his illustrious acting career and visit Umeko, she would make him a plate of delicious Snickerdoodle cookies or a whole strawberry cheesecake. This, too, brought them much closer together.
His favorite treat had always been double-layer strawberry and chocolate cheesecake, so for his funeral, Umeko had made one, pouring her heart and soul into it, as well as a few tears that had slipped in. She really had been very fond of her uncle.
As the funerary service finished, Umeko took a small embroidered handkerchief out of her petite clutch purse and wiped her eyes. Yikes um not focused. Then she and her parents stood and went to speak to some of the other guests. Her father slowly went to speak to his parents. Her mother graciously went to speak to some of the admirers, most of whom were bawling much harder than even poor Inoue’s mother. Umeko decided that she, too, had better do her part, and she wandered over to the refreshment table. There was her double-layer strawberry and chocolate cheesecake, just as her uncle would have loved. She sniffed, and then she was surprised to hear a cough from her left, roughly at the height of her elbow.
“Ms. Umeko Inoue, isn’t that right?” said an old man’s voice (speaking with such Japanese-old-manisms like “ja” and all that stuff the Kino characters use), and Umeko turned to look at the speaker. The old man was wringing his hands and looking up at her, because he was quite short, really only about as tall as to reach up to her elbow.
“Yes, I’m Umeko Inoue,” Umeko Inoue answered politely. “May I ask your name?”
“I am [NAME NAME], your uncle’s financial advisor.”
Umeko nodded understandingly. Her uncle had been as awful with finances as he had been with cooking. In fact, the man had had no practical skills whatsoever—but what an actor he had been!
“I’m deeply sorry for your loss,” the wizened financial advisor sympathized. “I like to think that perhaps your uncle considered me a friend as well, but the love he expressed for you was greater than any other he ever talked about.”
He squinted at her, and Umeko wasn’t sure whether this was because he was having trouble seeing, or because he was holding back tears, or because he was scrutinizing her. In any case, he nodded inexplicably, and continued, “Yes, your uncle was quite fond of you—I don’t mean that in a strange way, of course, but in the sweetest way possible. He loved you and he loved acting, and perhaps nothing else in the world, so all the love that he had was concentrated in those two things. He loved the cakes and cookies you’d make for him—he shared pieces of your cake with me sometimes, you know. It was delicious. Your love for him was like a tangible ingredient in it.”
Umeko bit her lip with the effort of holding back tears.
“Oh, I’m sorry, my dear Ms. Umeko,” the old financial advisor exclaimed, seeing her distress. “I realize that this must be so painful for you. It is never easy to lose a family member, or anyone who is precious to you, but to lose your uncle… Tragic, yes, how tragic… I just wanted to make sure you understood how deeply your uncle felt about you.” He gave a slow nod. “Of course, it will be clear soon. Very soon. You’ll see, when it is read…”
“When what is read, Mr. NAME?” Umeko questioned the old man.
“You’ll see,” the old man said again. “You’ll see. It is quite remarkable… incredible… completely unbelievable. I never would have believed it. Quite irregular, but he never was a regular man, was he?”
Umeko was flummoxed; she was bewildered. She had no idea what the old financial advisor could possibly be talking about. However, she knew that it is best to always be polite, so she simply answered the part of the old financial advisor’s statements that she had understood. “No, he wasn’t a regular man. He despised being normal, in fact, and he encouraged me to be as abnormal as possible. An unusual sentiment in a Japanese man, but actors are known for being strange. I suspect he was delighted when I adopted the Lolita style of dress.”
“Yes, yes,” the wizened Mr. NAME said again. “And by the way, you do look quite beautiful, Ms. Inoue. Old-fashioned and… kurashii, in a way. Classy. I like it.”
“Thank you,” Umeko said with a smile. Now she was back on solid ground; gracefully receiving compliments on her style of dress was something that she was quite used to doing. “It is from Moi Dix Mois. In fact, it’s one of Moi Dix Mois’s newest styles. When I heard about my poor uncle, I decided to buy it.”
The old man smiled and nodded, though Umeko doubted that he’d ever heard of the company Moi Dix Mois. But he, like she, and like any other Japanese person, was trained in the art of pleasing the other person.
“Well, I shall see you later, Ms. Umeko Inoue,” said Mr. [NAME]. “It was a pleasure to meet you at long last. Very interesting. I can see why your uncle loved you so much; you are rather similar to him. I’m beginning to understand why he did what he did.”
And without explaining what he meant by “why he did what he did,” the old financial advisor gave a little bow and walked away.
~
I made these comments to myself after finishing:
9/28. First attempt. Count: 1683 words. Padding utilized: babbling when the next sentence wouldn’t come to mind. Some over-explanation. Character who repeats himself. Phrases like “provided that exists.” Quality of writing: inconsistent; poorer than normal. Time: efficient.
Interesting ideas that came out of it: Love concentrated in one or two things. Strange and a little romantic in a weird way.
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