Temporary Shutdown

Well, it's been about a million years since I've paid any attention to this ol' blog of mine, but I've been thinking about it a bit lately. It's been so neglected over the past few months, all this time and no posting, but this summer didn't exactly play out as anyone expected.

At first I was thinking that I really don't have time to keep up this blog, but I've met with so much lovely support and kindness from people that I really wouldn't like to close it down either. Shall we say that it is now dormant, because I don't want to close off a window which I think has been helpful to my writing, even though I don't have the time for its upkeep.

Again, thank you, everybody, for your lovely words and encouragement! I hope you're all doing well!

God bless!

A Million Years Later...

So sorry for the prolonged absence! This has been a crazy month and doesn't look to be settling down anytime soon, but I have another piece of writing that I'd like to place up here for criticism. I'd love some honest opinions on it-- I know I can always improve!

Again, this is told from Liv's perspective. Please forgive her occasional language, she wasn't raised very well. This is after she has stolen the ring off of Drake and successfully made her way out of the governor's mansion, and she and Finch are in his room at a dockside inn making arrangements about payment.

“There,” he remarked cheerfully. “You certainly do not disappoint. Very well then. You come and lay the ring on my chest and I’ll lay down the money and we trade. Fair?”

“Fair,” I replied, moving to one side of the chest at the foot of his bed.

He moved to the other. The ring, cool and smooth, slid readily off my hand as I bent and placed it on the chest. A few golden coins clinked to the polished wood only inches from my fingertips. I placed my hand readily over them. I had no use for this ring.

Finch was reaching for it when-- the door swung open. We turned abruptly, and I used the motion to sweep my coins into my apron before my jaw dropped. Reese, his rapier at his side, and Kutch behind him, armed with his sabre, stood in the doorway.

“Hello, what have we here?” Finch asked softly, standing.

“Beg pardon, I want nothing with you,” Reese answered, before turning to me. “Liv, what in the bloody blazes are you doing here?”

“Me?” I sputtered. “What in hell are you doing here?”

“What do you think? Looking for you!”

“I don’t need finding.”

“Oh aye? Who knows what may have happened to you! Who knows...” here he paused and looked hard at Finch, “what you have done.”

“My dear... concerned older brother and,” Finch looked past to Kutch, “concerned smaller brother, I can assure you, nothing has happened to this your sister, friend, acquaintance, what have you, only a bit of business which has hardly hurt her. But I have no need to justify myself before you, these are my lodgings, honestly paid for.”

“How honestly did you come by the pay?” Reese asked bluntly.

Finch smiled.

“I catch your drift, lad. But what’d you say to that? You’re too young to be any sort of harman, and if you were, you’d likely be inefficient. But, seeing as this girl you’re so worried about happens to be a regular napper, I’d bet you’re on the odd side of the law as often as not.”

“As I said, I’m only here for the girl,” Reese stated.

He reached for my wrist. I tugged it away.

“So what, you’re going to haul me out like a child?”

“It is my job to protect you, Liv,” he told me.

His tone was the same. But there was hurting in his brown eyes. I tried to ignore it. I pretended it wasn’t there.

“I don’t need your protection. As a matter of fact... we’re better off without it. Reese, I can make money, so much faster, so much easier--”

“How much?” Kutch asked, raising his eyebrows in interest.

Reese elbowed him.

“A lot more than you’d make a day at the docks,” I went on. “More than a week’s wages, in all actuality.”

“Probably more than a month’s,” Finch added.

“You stay out of it,” Reese told him. “This is none of your concern.”

“Well, it’s taking place in my room, not to be rude.”

“I would love to take this elsewhere, but she’s making this very difficult and I’d rather not walk through Kingston with her over my shoulder.”

I gave a little cry of angry disbelief and struck at him with my open palm. He caught my wrist and I struggled to make him release me.

“Take your hands off me, you hypocrite!” I hissed, wrenching away. “You can talk all you like of a better future for us, but you won’t let me make it any easier for us! You won’t let me help the others.”

“I won’t let you hurt yourself and I won’t let you hurt this family,” Reese shot back, fire behind his gaze. “Who have you been stealing from?”

“No one who’ll hurt for it!” I snarled, hoping to quell the threatening tears with anger. “I’ve taken nothing anyone could even miss. A trifle for a rich man. Entire meals for Buskin and Ascanio.”

“What have you taken?” Reese asked.

I pushed my hair out of my face, composing myself. Don’t let him rile you. Don’t look into his eyes. They make you feel things you don’t want to feel... angry, vulnerable...

“Nothing but a trinket. A pretty, worthless little trinket.”

“That there?” Kutch inquired, pointing at the ring, still sitting on the chest.

Finch had not picked it up. He made a move for it now, but Reese was there before him, whipping out his rapier and sticking the point through the ring, nicking into the wood of the chest. He flicked it into his hand and turned it seal upwards.

His eyes widened.

When nothing was said, Kutch stepped forward.

“Reese... we ha’ Liv noo,” he murmured. “Le’s be off then?”

“Wait...” Reese said quietly. “Where did you get this?”

“I’m sorry, lad,” Finch said brightly, “but if the bailiffs come poking around for property stolen from so-and-so, I don’t want you to be able to supply address and, more importantly, description. And I’ll be having my ring back.”

Reese’s fist closed around the ring and his intense stare focused on Finch.

“Tell me where you got it.”

“Can’t. Won’t. Very bad idea. Return it. That would be a good idea.”

“Tell me.”

“Or what?”

“Or else I won’t give it back to you.”

Finch leaned his head back, one corner of his mouth raising in a humored smile.

“You honestly think I can’t take it?” he asked, casually drawing his sword.

“You’re going to risk dying rather than give me a name?” Reese demanded, raising his.

“I don’t believe I’m risking much at all, really. I don’t really want to hurt you and I’m fairly assured that you won’t hurt me.”

They faced each other, swords drawn, poised like two sturdy trees, entrenched in roots, stubborn, unmovable.

“Boys!” I yelled, trying to move between them.

Before I got two steps, I felt hands like iron about my elbows tugging me backwards, into the doorway. I was furious-- why was Kutch not letting me prevent this?

“No, stop! Can’t you try to reason this out?”

I watched as Finch lunged, his blade aiming, not quite for Reese’s heart, but for somewhere on his torso. Reese’s arm was perfectly straight, his footing nor his stance shifted in the slightest, but his wrist pivoted, drawing a C in the air, redirecting Finch’s attack down and away, and then lightly, by inches, the rest of the arm came into play, striking aside an blow from the left, striking aside a blow from the right, and slapping down a second lunge. Then-- everything was let loose. The trees became blades of grass.

And then action commences. I have a lot of fun writing fight scenes. What do you think? Should I post the ensuing fight?

God bless!

How to Rob a Captain

It's been a while since I've posted anything I've written, and so I decided to insert yet another plot piece from Kingston, a part I've always been a little more unsure about, so if I could get your cruelest criticism, I'd be much obliged.

So! Last time we checked, Liv and her new partner in crime Finch Killigrew were off to nab a ring off of some poor unsuspecting decorated post captain. Why, Liv doesn't exactly know, but it's good money and that's really all that matters to her. They've infiltrated the governor's palace in disguise as servants. This is from Liv's POV.

The parlor, thank God, wasn’t difficult to find. I shouldered through the door, unnoticed, into a room large enough to be airy, yet the bright lights and closed windows managed to make even that great a space feel stuffy. There were maybe forty or more gilt chairs set up facing away from the door, towards the opposite end of the room, laden with blue-coated naval officers and red-coated soldiers with a handful of civilians and ladies in bright gowns, a sea of wigs and seamen’s pigtails. Beyond them sat a young lady in a sea-green taffeta gown playing a complicated piece on a cello for their entertainment. She was very good, as far as I could tell.

There was a table fairly near the door, set with several little pewter goblets. I quickly took my station here and set down my bottles to begin pouring. I cocked an eye about the room, trying to spot Finch among the gentlemen’s valets standing in attendance. I didn’t need to find him however. He came to me.

“There you are,” breathed a voice not far behind me. “I was beginning to wonder what you were about.”

“Which one is he?” I breathed back, ignoring him. “Drake, which one is he?”

“I will cough when he comes for a drink.”

“Mind you don’t before.”

Presently, the entire room erupted into applause, nearly drowning the final fleeting notes of the girl’s cello. The young girl dipped her curtsies, smiling sweetly at her audience from under a plush feather done up in her golden hair that curled over her forehead, bobbing with each motion, and then, as soon as she exited the sphere of attention and the guests began to stand and mill about, she made a direct line towards a sea officer with a thick, dark queue. Gentlemen and ladies began to flock to my table for refreshments, as well as some valets. I noticed a few men still in their chairs, deep in discussion with each other. What if Drake was one of them?

Suddenly, I found myself staring into a pair of the most piercing blue eyes I had ever seen. I nearly let the bottle slip. His face was rugged, unshaven and noble, slender-jawed and straight-nosed, with a firm, intelligent mouth that turned up the slightest bit when his eyes met mine. Behind me, I heard Finch give a violent hack. My eyes traveled down the man’s arm, entwined with the cello player’s, all the way to his left hand, on which shone a familiar design. Two white suns divided by a river.

So this was Captain Drake.

An answering smile spread across my face before I could stop it as I handed him the wine goblet. He met my hand halfway with his and retained my hold on it for a moment. Our hands would have touched if it weren’t for the goblet in between. The cello player, sensing that his attention was slipping, prattled on sharply to regain it.

“No, no, my dear Miss Webb,” said Drake, turning to her and offering her the goblet, “I believe you played very cleverly, exceedingly well. Did she not?”

The question was addressed to me, shockingly. I was taken aback.

“Oh, quite, sir,” I replied, managing to sound casual, even though the proper response would have been surprise.

I began pouring for him next. How to get at his left hand? It was around the girl’s arm.

“Oh, Lord, how warm it is in here! I thought I should faint!” trilled the girl.

Her voice was like a cello too, I thought. And she was right, it was warm. If only they would open a window... Inspiration. I reached across to hand him his wine, just as the girl sipped hers. Swiftly, so that no one saw, I knocked the back of my hand against her tipped goblet and watched in feigned horror as bright red port splashed across the sea-green taffeta. She gasped.

“Oh dear!” I cried stupidly. “Let me help you.”

I dodged around the table, focusing all my physical skills on fatigue. Sluggish motions, panting breaths, sweat... I could summon them on demand. Captain Drake, meanwhile, was gently wiping the spill with his handkerchief until I arrived with a napkin. It was a shame really, it was a pretty dress, but it wasn’t as if there was much on it, not more then a few spots.

“Hurry, will you?” hissed the girl.

I pretended not to hear her. With sobs for breath, I toppled sideways, falling straight onto Captain Drake. I expected him to step back, so I reached for his left hand, but suddenly it was around my waist.

“Steady! Steady there! What ails you, my girl?”

I found myself tipped back, looking into his eyes.

“Forgive me,” I panted, tears springing to my eyes. “Forgive me, it’s too warm...”

I felt his hand sliding under my legs and next thing I knew, I was lifted against his chest.

“Come now, I will bring you out. I beg your pardon, Miss Webb!”

The girl stood there with the napkin easily hiding the stain, ready to fly away and change her gown. She wouldn’t suffer much embarrassment for this. Captain Drake, however, was seen by the entire room carrying a servant girl from the parlor.

Oh, Liv, you really are a bad girl, aren't you. Impressive acting ability, she really should've gone for the stage. Now Drake-- do we trust him or don't we? What are the reader's initial thoughts on him?

God bless, everybody!

That Awkward Moment When...

... you haven't blogged for like a month and suddenly you find you've been nominated for the same award by two people and you are so entirely charmed but you don't know if you can meet the requirement so... you do your best anyway. Challenge accepted!

The award was the Liebster award! I was nominated by the lovely Julia from http://runningthroughthestars.blogspot.com/ and Margaret from http://blendersandphobias.blogspot.com/. (I should really learn how to tag people. HELP!) And whereas I don't exactly know another nine bloggers, I'm new to this world, I will do the best I can!

Erm.

My friend Monica from http://thescottishsketcher.blogspot.com/-- check her out, she's really cool!

My friend Rhian De Questa from http://thedancingshamrock.blogspot.com/

And uhhh... no tagbacks? Darn.

Well, anyway, I will still answer the questions!

First, I must list... 11 facts about myself.

Now I will answer Julia's questions.

1. If you were a demigod from the Percy Jackson series, who would you be the child of and why (If you haven't read it, just Google a quiz. There are tons)?
Well, I've never read Percy Jackson, there are a couple things I know about it that sort of wrecked the series for me-- especially in the second part.... series... thing-- but my favorite god from Greek myth has always been Athena. She's very wise, but also very much a woman.

2. Would you rather date Khan from Star Trek: Into Darkness or Voldemort, from Harry Potter (BWAHAHA good luck with this one)?

Khan. Khan. Khan. Khan. Khan. Khan. Khan.

3. What's your favorite Shakespeare play?

I'd say Macbeth or Hamlet. A lot of action and some really deep thought going on.

4. What fictional character do you most relate to?
There are actually very few characters who have ever reminded me of myself. There are traits of myself scattered all over fictional history. I've been told that I'm like Marion from Raiders of the Lost Ark and I have Belle's bookishness from Beauty and the Beast but Merida's boldness from Brave. I look like Esmeralda from Disney's Hunchback of Notre Dame, but my temper resembles Colette's from Ratatouille and I really felt Elinor Dashwood's pain when Marianne was sick. I also really sympathize with both James H. Braddock and Joe Gould from Cinderella Man. So... yeah. It's pretty difficult to place me.

5. Which do you prefer, skirts or dresses?

Dresses when I can get 'em!

6. What's your favorite motivational song?

Bon Jovi's Livin' On A Prayer.

7. Do you prefer a Kindle or a book?

Book. Undoubtedly.

8. Do you think #7 is a big deal?

Yeah. I mean, it could be just a personal preference, but a family friend's bookstore closed and I think it was due to the rise of virtual reading.

9. Would you rather turn into a turtle for a month or a panda?

A panda. Pandas are wonderful.

10. Do you prefer C. S. Lewis or J. R. R. Tolkien?

For an easy read, C.S. Lewis, light and fun. If I'm looking for profundity and enlightenment and sheer epicness, J. R. R. Tolkien all the way. I can't read him too often though otherwise I get a hangover of emotion for like a week.

11. Do you prefer drawing or writing?

I don't believe the two are entirely separate. I'm definitely better at writing, but sometimes I like to express what I feel about my writing through art and I like to draw my characters.

And now I will answer Margaret's!

1. Favourite author? 

J. R. R. Tolkien. Forever and ever.

2. Cravats or bowties?

Bowties.

3. Have you been to a foreign country? If so, which one(s)?

Noooooooo isn't that awful? I need to go to Italy someday.

4. Quote something off the top of your head.

"I will make this easy to remember-- keep your station clear-- OR I WILL KILL YOU." (Probably since I was just cleaning the kitchen. Probably because my siblings hear this about a dozen times a day.)

5. Broadway or Hollywood?

Eh.... Hollywood. I just haven't seen enough of Broadway and the tickets are... SO expensive. Besides, there's a subtlety to movies that is often lost in plays, as awesome as they are.

6. Do you like sushi?

Never tried it! I've always been a bit turned off by the fact that it's raw fish.

7.Thoughts on floor lamps?

Sure! Why not?

8. Do you enjoy chick flicks? (be honest;P)

Depends. I like certain chick flicks. But on the whole, the genre isn't very... me. So many are really clicky. I think the clickiest I'll go is Letters to Juliet, and that's pushing it... especially the ending. I like Steel Magnolias and Leap Year and Return to Me-- those fall under my category.

9. What is a hobby from your childhood you still retain?

Writing and drawing. And basically everything else.

10. Does a PT6A have a multi-stage compressor?

Uhhhhh non parlo Inglese.

11. Beards or no beards?

Usually, no, but there are exceptions. Like Chris Hemsworth.

Alright, now I get to issue eleven questions. MWAHAHAHA

1. Favorite childhood TV series? (If you watched TV. We didn't, but we still had a few shows.)

2. Favorite piece of clothing?

3. Which Disney princess do you most resemble?

4. If you were any character in a book, who would you choose to be?

5. If you write, (which everyone I know in the blog world does) which of your characters is the most like you?

6. What villain scared you the most as a child? (And possibly still now?)

7. What one style function do you wish could make a comeback?

8. Coffee or tea?

9. If you could speak any other language in the world, what would it be?

10. Favorite accent?

11. The ultimate question... now think hard, this is important. Everything you believe in rides on this answer. Use the Force, Luke. Good luck. Only you can decide...

...

...

...

Cake... or DEATH?

Anyone else who'd like to answer these questions is welcome to try!

God bless!

Trouble in River City

Actually, it's trouble in Kingston. But there isn't a song about that.

Anyway, whenever there's trouble in Kingston, you can bet that Liv is a part of it. And here two unlikely yet unfortunately similar characters meet to cause destruction and mayhem.

Meet Finch! My friend writes from his point of view, and here is when his path crosses that of the children, namely, Liv's, because she's being a loner right now and he needs a good thief. So again, from Liv's point of view.

He was not above four and twenty I would guess, with a long, noble face, high cheekbones, and grey-blue eyes that held secrets, who could say how many secrets? His hair was not long like a sailor’s, with only enough to tie in a short pigtail behind him. He was clean-shaven, with an aquiline nose and basically all the features to suggest that he wasn’t as low-born as his situation presented. Perhaps he wasn’t rich, but he was smart, he was very smart. I’d have to watch myself with him. Clearly he was on no good terms with the law, so a little more trustworthy, and a little less at the same time. His clothes were stained with fresh sea travel. Here was a man who had not been ashore long and did not know Kingston and Port Royal as I knew them. So that was an advantage.

“So,” I began, smiling a little as he lifted his tankard, “what is it you need then? We’ll be square on this, or I’m out.”

He put down the mug after a long draught with a sigh, then reached into his coat. The folded slip of paper produced was weathered from wind and water, but the thick ink, he revealed to me as he unfolded the fragment, was secure and scarcely leaked outside the boundaries. He spread it on the table, facing me, but didn’t take his hand off of it for an instant.

“Who drew up this chit?” I asked. “Pretty hand.”

It was a pretty hand. There were several lines of miniscule writing, looping and sweeping, on the page. My companion smiled a little.

“It wasn’t I. But it signifies little.”

“Are these bearings?” I asked, frowning at the spidery script.

An inheritance there for royal bastard blood...

“Aye, but not complete.”

His finger tapped a blank spot in the steady string of black ink. I stared. It was as if the words there had just seeped away, as if the paper had swallowed them. From the coast of--

My eyebrows knit together as I surveyed the strange message. There was another, and another. Five barren spaces.

“What happened to the rest of it?”

“Never mind that. All I’m interested in is this.”

He pointed to a little picture inked at the bottom of the paper. I glanced over it. It was a miniature of a coat of arms, a simple black field divided through the center by a wavy white line, with a white sun on on either side of this. I read the inscription.

“Sir parvis magna,” I murmured. “Very plain, I’d say.”

“You may say that. ‘Out of smallness, greatness’.”

I flushed.

“Whose is it?” I asked defensively.

“It’s on a ring I wish to commandeer. Belongs to a man by the name of Captain Drake.”

I leaned back with a snort of laughter.

“Then shall we fetch it to Good Queen Bess?”

“I’m not having fun with you, lass,” he laughed. “Regardless of where he got the name, he’s as flesh and blood an officer as ever hoisted anchor. Surely you’ve seen his ship in Kingston Harbor-- the White Swan.”

“Aye.”

The pretty ship came to my mind with its beautiful swan figurehead spreading its wings against the keel.

“So his name’s Drake?” I asked. “Here’s wagering that he’s had to take a load of bilge for that then.”

He grinned, watching me as I gulped the fiery grog.

“All’s one, he’s still a fine seaman and has moved up to post quicker than other sailors.”

“Then he’ll be at the governor’s palace tonight. The governor always invites the officers fresh off the ships, with nary a variation. How d’ye reckon we’ll slip it?”

“Is the governor’s palace impregnable? To attack, perhaps more so, but to a stable hand and a serving girl?”

A smile spread across my face.

“I see. Yet there remains some risk... so here’s the rub. What am I risking for?”

Okay, and now everybody's off to steal a ring! Definitely more Finch to come. He doesn't know who Liv is or where she comes from and she doesn't know anything about him either. He's a devious fellow, should she be trusting a guy like this?

God bless!

Little Flower

Okay, I just realized there's only one of Reese's crew I haven't introduced you to yet! There are more characters, but they join in later on in the story, and I don't want to go out of chronological order yet.

This is Suyin, thirteen years old, a little shadow. This sampling's from Reese's POV, because Liv has gone and, surprise surprise, got herself into what looks like trouble. Again, the accents here are pretty thick again. Suyin has a very pretty, purry Singapore accent, and it just seems to go with her personality so well.

I may have been half-sleeping, sitting there slumped on the ground. But I still felt the moon against the right side of my face, streaming in almost tangible beams through the opening. The light flickered against my eyelids. I opened my eyes. The moon was stable there again, a white half-orb beyond the window and over the thick treetops.

“Suyin,” I said, “I know you’re here.”

A slender figure materialized out of the shadows.

“You on’y one what a’ways know I am her’.”

She crouched beside me, her slanted eyes reflecting the light of the moon. She wasn’t wearing her hat.

“Why are you awake, flower?” I asked.

“Bad things afoot. Liv is on de game.”

“What?”

“She go out, but not come back. Netta waits up for her, Suyin goes and follows. No one see.”

“Where is she?”

“Kingston.”

“What is she doing?”

“She is on de game. Not alone. Wit' a man.”

Something inside suddenly felt cold.

“A man? What kind of man? Did he-- was he touching her? Where did they go?”

Suyin shook her head.

“No, no, just game. No play footsie. I see them, they no see me, Suyin could put a very nice knife down in his eye and den he see nothing, never ‘gain. But no. Just game. They go to Gull Roost.”

“The Gull’s Roost? By the docks?”

“Aye.”

I was up in an instant and heading for the door.

“Suyin, get Kutch and Netta. Tell Netta what’s happened and tell Kutch to come to me. And you,” I paused with the door open, turning to point seriously at the child, “you stay here and you go to bed. Do you understand me?”

“Aye, Reese.”

I spared her a small smile before I dashed out. She was worried, after all. And so was I.

Suyin's a strange character, and I hope that translates well here. Although she's only a little girl, she's very protective and has a strange sense of humor that contrasts weirdly with her nature. I think it's because largely, she doesn't understand concepts such as death. She never really thinks that hard. I think she mostly thrives on the notion of keeping the family together and generally having a good time.

Well, tell me what you think of her. She's my strange one, but I love her anyway.