Author Topic: Works in Progress  (Read 8234 times)

chronotriggerfreak

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« Reply #15 on: November 16, 2004, 11:02:47 pm »
And I meant to check your spelling, not to store your files.  :P

V_Translanka

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« Reply #16 on: November 17, 2004, 06:21:53 pm »
Even after using Word's spellcheck you can still have plenty of errors...

chronotriggerfreak

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« Reply #17 on: November 17, 2004, 07:29:29 pm »
Yes, but you won't have any incorrectly spelled words.

V_Translanka

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« Reply #18 on: November 19, 2004, 06:12:43 pm »
Well, the words themselves may not be incorrectly spelled, but they may not be the right words in whatever context, so they are, in essence, incorrectly spelled.

chronotriggerfreak

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« Reply #19 on: November 19, 2004, 06:14:07 pm »
Technically, they're not, which is what I was referring to.

But hopefully you at least won't have a misspelled word and change it for the wrong correctly spelled word...

Leebot

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« Reply #20 on: December 04, 2004, 12:10:08 am »
[Here's what I have for my next Backer post; let me know if it's too much.]

Scene X – Echoes

The End of Time


/Stabilization: 34.5%
Optical input restored.
Optical input connected to visual stream 1.
Testing vision…
Possible error: Optical input resolves no recognized pattern; chaos: 100%
Diagnosing optical input…
No errors found.
Analysis: Chaos is ambient.


As coherence returned to Backer, he replayed the events leading to his current state of affairs. His consciousness had been persuaded—or perhaps overridden, he couldn’t be sure—by an entity which identified itself as LEGACY. It had connected with his mind and transmitted vast amounts of information to it, so much that his subconscious was still sorting it out. It had then told him a purpose awaited him at the End of Time, then guided him on a set of actions which sent him there, apparently through tearing a hole in space-time.

Prior to that, he had been in contact with the artifact known as the Frozen Flame. It had tried to tempt him with power, but a logical override had saved him. Once he had the situation in control, LEGACY had connected with him.

Even earlier, he was searching through the cave, with two others, Hunter Deschain and Amy Millian. But, what had happened to them? Backer replayed his vision up through his arrival in the End of Time. As he fell into the rift, he noticed two figures falling towards him from nearer to the Frozen Flame. They had most likely fallen in after him.

He looked around, but saw nothing distinct from the chaos that seemed to characterize this place. He sent out a pulse to see if that avenue yielded any results. /Fire… ------^^`’*’`##---/

Interesting results. There was a lot of interference, but he could sense something coming from one, definite direction. He knew he hadn’t seen anything in any direction previously, but when he looked again, he could see quite clearly a structure floating in the distance. It was too distant to resolve many details, but it appeared to be oblong, tilted 20° off its axis.

/Applicable information found in LEGACY data.

Location type QC:
Certain dimensional locations lack normal physical parameters. Apparent physical parameters of such locations can be shaped by sufficiently powerful and ordered minds. Those without sufficient mental ability will perceive the environment created by another, if such is present. Otherwise, they will perceive only chaos./


That seemed to be consistent with what he was observing. He decided to test this hypothesis.

/Hallway, leading from here to the structure ahead, with door connecting to it./

A drab hallway formed around him, leading up to the structure.

/Gravity and atmosphere, standard.

Backer fell to the floor of the hallway as the environment returned to what he perceived as normal. He started walking towards the structure, but then decided to see if exactly how malleable the space there was.

/Shorten hallway to 2 meters, with same destinations./

The hallway obeyed, and two more steps took him to the plain, wooden door that had been created at the end. As he was about to open the door, he felt a surge of null energy from beyond. It passed in a few moments, and he proceeded to open the door.

The door led to a small staircase, which in turn led to a moderately-sized room with solemn décor. At the center was a brown-clad man standing at the foot of a streetlight, staring at him in surprise. He was surrounded by an assortment of odd individuals, who were either staring at Backer or at the hall across from him, where another group of people had arrived in confusion. Among the crowd he picked out Hunter and Amy, to whom he gave a quick nod. His mind briefly registered a slight discoloration of Hunter’s arms and Amy’s legs, but he deemed it inconsequential.

“I hear you’ve got a quest for me,” he stated.

V_Translanka

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« Reply #21 on: December 04, 2004, 08:45:10 pm »
Sounds good. I kind of wanted Hunter & Amy to be passed out when they arrived in the EoT, but I suppose I could deal with that stuff as being before Backer enters. Maybe he should notice something is different about them though...He doesn't have to though, as it is currently not a 'big' change, especially if his focus is on Gaspar.

Leebot

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« Reply #22 on: December 04, 2004, 09:43:05 pm »
Hmm, he probably would notice it, distracted or not. I've added in a sentence to cover this in the second-to-last paragraph. I'm not sure how you wanted it to appear at this stage, so I just said a "slight discoloration."

ZeaLitY

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« Reply #23 on: December 06, 2004, 07:05:48 pm »
The gentle, golden tones of the platinum harps were heard emanating from the stately edifice, even manifested as caressing crests and waves in the sensitive minds of dreamers nearby; these alluring sounds, though often heard within the chamber’s corridors, now announced to all within their aura – even those not invited – that a grandiose function neared its hour of beginning, when the hearts and minds of the most humble and inflated members of the Zealian society would be of one mind and purpose – to bask in the royal glory of the continents, and celebrate the birthday of its prince’s sister, whose flowing beauty and charm were considered a crown treasure by their own merits. Azure, crimson, and violet robes crafted most meticulously shifted into the palatial halls, their owners and wearers each seeking to be a luminary to the amassing crowds. Drinks were in free, plentiful flow, as magic granted the use of fountains of wine that flowed elegantly near the marble walls, allowing patrons to dip their cups in the forming pools and partake of the mirth and passion yielded from a draught of vintage. More than ever, those in attendance were aware of their position in the heavens – the centerpiece of the universe, of viridian pastures and blue skies, and the honors therein.

However, not all were able to be detached from their daily tussle fully; some still scrambled as they did within labs and centers of research, permanently caught in the rigors of analysis and invention. These sorts were now furiously checking, for the fourth time, the presentation planned for the evening; if one nonfluency were detected by the audience, or one hairline crack in the visual screens noted, the showing would be deemed a failure, and the aristocracy would scoff at the bustling of the temporal researchers, comparing them to rodents starved for a piece of cheese. One of the top officials of this gang of rats was correctly adorned in flowing blue dress, with shoulder lapels that granted him seniority over those with him behind the majestic curtains upon the stage. As he directed the checkups, the music became more swift and uplifting, and some began to dance. Roget was at once attracted, for dancing was the epitome of the social arena he had heretofore been shielded from by the Centre for Dimensional Research; the women, in ageless beauty and grace, enchanted him, though he did not wish to be their partners – for he was cognizant of their dull and empty lives; of their revolting at the drop of a needle – of their lack of substance, which he, as a participant in the most truly zealous project even undertook and approved by the Council, had regularly. Even at the moment, the worry of a faulty speech and display of the project’s on goings – an attempt to appease the aristocrats – made him feel alive, something these monotonous “leaders of men” could never experience.

The analysts, their hands still glowing darkly from their run-throughs of the inner, magical workings of the presentation, gave their approval, releasing Roget from responsibility temporarily. He sauntered off the stage, his face beaming, and his carriage perfectly upright, and surveyed the room. He was unshakably happy this night, proud to be a pillar of Zealian society, the empyrean of the world; at this length, he walked by the sides of the main corridor, sampling the wine with a glass nearly rendered invisible by its transparency, and was subsequently taken aback upon his view of a woman approaching the wine falls near him; though the wives of the aristocrats were able to feign a kind and dashing radiance with their tools and devices of artificial and prolonged beauty, this woman, to his more warmer senses, shone with a luminosity that was not blindingly bright, but reverently steadfast; it was as the stars – eternal in their reign in the sky, overshadowed by a full moon occasionally, but always aloof and present. It demanded his submission by merely hinting that it was deeper and more meaningful than anything he had ever known – and this it received, as Roget was now so unbearably off-center that he awkwardly struggled to have mind of doing even trivial things, such as raising his glass to drink. The woman, too appearing imbalanced across from him, opened dialogue.

“Ex-excuse me, is this…Blushful Spring?” she asked.
”Uh, yes, it is, the stuff. Good,” he answered.
“Thank you.”

The woman held her cup below the pouring crimson, and sipped. Long through the ages, alcohol had been thought of as a numbing drug; its definition did not fail Nasreen Ferdows, whose sips at last made her feel more at ease in this foreign setting.

“Are you with the…project?” she asked.
“Uh, yes; we’re giving a presentation, and—“
“Oh, I see; I was asked to come here by them.”

Being interrupted nearly critically wounded Roget, but his alert mind fortunately accepted the possibility that her accidental rudeness was due to the Blushful Spring.

“Them? The Council?” he asked.
“Yes…I don’t know why…”
“Well…yeah, they’re kind of shifty…” he soon remembered manners. “What’s your name, by the way?”
“Oh, sorry; I’m Nasreen…you are…”
“Roget. Yes, are you interested in the project?”
“Well…” stuttered Nasreen, accustomed to acquiescing to positive answers to questions given to her – “Yes, it is all very interesting.”
“Great. I hope you enjoy the presentation. I’m one of the project officiates. It’s…a good show.”
“Oh, I will…” she said, glancing behind her.
“W—“ Roget began.
“I have to go; my mother requests me. It was nice talking to you,” she concluded.
“You too.”

Roget immediately brought the container in his hand to his mouth, and cooled his nerves. This woman entranced him, though he initially did not know it; his Romantic senses were not finely tuned, nor experienced. However, this meeting had planted a seed in his mind, sharply drawing his attention and unyielding in its demands. The project remained the focus of the evening, as well as his thoughts and actions – but his eyes were purely Nasreen’s. He returned to the platform, and continued to prepare for the events of the evening.

Leebot

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« Reply #24 on: December 06, 2004, 09:29:04 pm »
Stylistic comments:

-We decided to write the scenes in third person focused, and you appear to be focusing on Roget. However, you bring up Nasreen's name before Roget knows it.

-Watch the run-on sentences. Your first sentence takes up over half the paragraph. Consider replacing some of the semi-colons with sentence breaks.

-Paragraph 2, about halfway through: I'd put "gang of rats" in quotes.

Grammatical:

-In the first paragraph, switch the first semi-colon with the second comma.

-Paragraph 3, about halfway through: "more warmer" -> "warmer" (If I were writing it, I'd go for "keener," instead.)

-End of paragraph 3: "too" -> "also"

chronotriggerfreak

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« Reply #25 on: December 06, 2004, 10:41:20 pm »
Scene XX - Eyram Green

Gargeth Wardell found his accommodations most unpleasant. For one thing, the secretary chick who hung around in the entrance hall outside his door attended to every resident of the Choras town hall (that is, what they called the rooms where all of the elder’s friends who were too dirt-poor to live alone resided in luxury)—so she could only attend to his needs every hour or so. And for another, his wooden chair was stiffly uncomfortable and didn’t lean properly.

He was halfway through the process of discovering this by falling over backward when the secretary rudely intruded, bringing in a guest. From the looks of him—swanky suit, collection of fancy stationery-based documents in his hand, that stupid bowler that he so elegantly rolled off his head and hung on the hat rack—he was one of the elder’s higher-ups.

Garg quickly collected himself from the floor whereupon he fell and discovered that this interruption pissed him off. It wasn’t the embarrassment of being caught falling over backward, no, and it wasn’t that this guy was once probably just as lowly scum as Garg and still got better treatment, not that. It was that the secretary only said, “The elder will be in to see you shortly.” That was it; then she left. No, “Hello, Mr. Wardell,” or any, “Would you like anything, Mr. Wardell?” Not so much of, “I had some real fun before, Garg; when can we do it again?” as of nothing. Of course, it wouldn’t be appropriate with such a fine gentleman in the room, but still, could she have been any colder? It was like a bad omen, for a chick he’d had an experience with not to mention anything about it the next time he saw him... it was almost as if she was sure this would be the last time she saw him.

Well, if she didn’t have time to worry about him, then he couldn’t afford to spend any time worrying about her, either, not with the elder’s lackey standing in his doorway. So he set his chair upright, sat down, and then made the gesture of standing up again to invite him in. He didn’t bother to close the door behind him; he obviously didn’t think much of Garg’s privacy, which meant neither did the elder. How could the elder treat him that way, when Garg had promised him so much, and both of his treacherous families had expressed their support? Surely the elder knew he was not a powerful enough man to deal with his own nobility and the eldership of Porre.

“Good morning, Mr. Wardell,” said the gentleman.

What was he doing here, anyway?

“A fine one, thank you,” Garg replied, “but I’m not quite sure we’ve met.”

“Oh, excuse me, I forgot that we haven’t. My name is Eyram Green. I’ve been assigned as the legal counselor in your case against Mr. Levine—“

“Who?”

“I believe his first name is Toma. As I was saying, I will represent you in the case of the Rainbow Shell.”

“Will you? That’s nice, but—“

“Excuse me for being late, gentlemen,” said the Choras elder as he hobbled in, leaning heavily on his cane. “I see you’ve met Mr. Green, Gargeth.”

Garg shuddered. What was his mother thinking with that name? Gargeth. Honestly.

“Please, sir, call me Garg.”

“Nonsense. If I’ll call you anything, it’ll be Mr. Wardell. We are all, after all, men of stature, are we not?”

“Yes,” said Eyram, “and that is why I must insist that we hurry this along.”

“If you don’t mind my asking,” said Garg, “why did you call us, Elder?”

“I believe I can answer that.” Even as the elder opened his mouth to speak, Eyram circled around into Garg’s view and interrupted. Garg wouldn’t forget his disrespect for authority, and he would be sure no one else would, either. “Quite simply, your requests to study interregional law and represent your case in any pending legal proceedings have been denied. It has been concluded that your experience with scholarship is insufficient when considering the imminence of the matter at hand.”

Oh, Mr. Green spoke well-cultured enough, but despite whatever confusion he may have hoped to achieve, Garg understood every word he said—and probably could have spewed it back with more verbiage that the man could handle. Again, Garg would remember this subtle spite, but for the moment he found it more suitable to play dumb.

“So you’re telling me that the elder won’t sponsor my legal studies, is that it? With his infinite income spent on infinite corrupt things that I could reveal at any moment, he can’t—“

“Please, please, Mr. Wardell, settle down,” the elder said, himself finding a small, wobbly wooden chair to rest in. “It’s not that I can’t afford to let you study, but I just—“

“Well, if you’ll excuse me for saying it, Elder, then I don’t see why I can’t just study it no matter how useful it will or will not be. I mean, with the favor I’m doing you here, I think it’s the least you could do.”

“Why would you ever want to study something you won’t find use for?” said Eyram mockingly.

“You seem to be making yourself a fine living with your useless studies,” Garg mocked in return.

“That’s enough,” the Elder said as loudly as he could at his age. “If we can’t behave civilly here, then we won’t be here at all. Now, Mr. Wardell, I’ll be fine with it if you want to go ahead and study interregional law, but I’ll take no blame for your disappointment if I don’t think you’re ready to win whatever case we find ourselves up against in this whole debacle.”

“Thank you, Elder.”

“Let’s depart, Eyram. If there’s to be something for Mr. Wardell to take over, we have a case to prepare.”

With that, Eyram Green and the Choras elder walked out of Garg’s dormitory, shutting the door behind them. Even as the door clicked softly shut, Garg could hear Eyram’s furious explosion at the elder’s submission. Chuckling in the growing silence of his room, Garg leaned backwards in his stiff wooden chair and fell over.

Radical_Dreamer

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« Reply #26 on: December 06, 2004, 11:49:15 pm »
You refer to Toma as Mr. Toma. His last name is stated in the game; I believe it is Levine, but it bears double checking.

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« Reply #27 on: December 07, 2004, 12:10:51 am »
Levine sounds right.

This is an unedited take of my next post.


Scene #7 – An Evening Above the Stars


Covering her mouth as she yawned, Naomi slouched her posture as she sat upon a sofa in her mother’s room, nearly sliding off the divan as she waited impatiently for the enchantress to finish dressing for the gala being held at the palace later in the evening. Although she had no great love of such social events, Sessimine had insisted that she attend. Not wishing to disappoint her mother and seeing the occasion as an easy way to earn the favour she struggled endlessly to obtain, Naomi agreed to accompany the elder Maruyama to the ball and had even already dressed herself appropriately by donning the pink subfusc she wore everyday to class over a simple coral-coloured gown worn by novice enchantresses on formal occasions. Unable to focus her mind on any one train of thought for very long, the student let her eyes wander about the room aimlessly, her vision repeatedly returning to one of the portraits hanging from the wall until she was finally able to remain concentrated on one subject.

“Mother?”

Sessimine replied from behind her dressing screen, her voice slightly muffled due to something in her mouth.. “Yes, dear?”

“That man…” Naomi paused, unable to speak momentarily, then finally forced something barely coherent out. “… absolutely wonderful!”

There was no doubt in Sessimine’s mind as to whom her daughter was referring to. “He is, isn’t he? Whenever I have a nightmare or some other unpleasant thought late at night, I just turn to that portrait and instantly my fears are gone – although I usually end up losing sleep over continually staring at him, but that’s far more preferable than losing sleep over something horrible! I suppose you meant to ask me just who he was, however, didn’t you?”

“Huh?” The student continued to stare semi-mindlessly, her mother’s comments entering one ear and exiting the other.

The elder Maruyama giggled as she peered out from behind her screen at her daughter. “Dear, if you blink once in awhile, you can ogle over that portrait longer.”

Naomi snapped out of her trance. “What? I am not ogling over anything! I’m merely… admiring respectfully, that’s all!”

The enchantress smiled as she disappeared once more from plain view. “Admiring respectfully, hmm? Fabulous excuse, my dear… I’ll have to remember that one! Anyway, as you were undoubtedly about to ask, that beautiful work of art is none other than the very lovely [INSERT FULL NAME HERE]. [NAME], as you might have reasonably deduced had your mental capabilities been free, was the single male Provost of the School of Enchantment. Besides unquestionably being the finest specimen the other gender ever had to offer, he was arguably the most talented enchanter in the history of the art. [NAME]’s work revolutionized the way charms were studied and altered the way enchantresses viewed themselves and the world around them.”

“How so?”

“How so? How so!” Sessimine stepped out from her screen with one hand wrapped firmly around her hip, the other pointing at Naomi in condemnation. “What do you mean, how so? Had you kept up with your studies and read my work, you would know!”

“Eep!” Naomi covered her mouth; she had unintentionally confessed to something she did not plan to reveal.

The elder Maruyama sighed as she turned away and pointed at one of the portraits on the wall. “Seeing as how you’ve neglected even to read the exciting work of your own mother, I suppose I’ll give you a generous - yet brief - overview of my magnum opus, [INSERT TITLE OF BOOK HERE]. This lovely middle-aged woman you see here is Miss Berenyi Fujima, the first Provostia of the School of Enchantment. As you may or may not realize, our art is the youngest of the five divisions of magic; for a long time, charms were merely considered to be a subdivision of sorcery. After the creation of the Mammon Machine some twelve-thousand years ago, Zeal entered a phrase of unparalleled scientific enlightenment and for nearly six-thousand years afterward this enlightenment had a profound impact on our kingdom’s culture. You see, the focus of the enlightenment was on the power of reason and its role in conceptualizing new ideas under which the entire universe were governed. This focus on becoming more and more rational overrode personal desires and human emotion; the passions were all but abandoned and cultural achievements such as the arts came to a standstill. It was in this time that Berenyi, appearing seemingly out of thin air, became an influential voice in Zeal by advocating the value of the passions once more. This return to a focus on the relevance of human emotion eventually gave birth to the School of Enchantment, which Miss Fujima was appointed the first Provostia of – despite the fact she was utterly and completely devoid of any personal charms and charisma herself. It was said of her that men would fall in love with her at a distance only to quickly fall out of love upon hearing her ceaseless complaining and commandeering; in fact, there’s even a spell named after her which grants its caster a similar aura!”

“Interesting. So whatever happened to Berenyi, given the lack of charisma? I bet she didn’t hold the post of Provostia very long.”

“No, she didn’t. Miss Fujima was a tremendously powerful sorceress, but she simply didn’t have what it took to be a successful enchantress. She is relevant to our art not because of her power, but rather because of who she was. In a time where emotion was being rejected as a legitimate expression of our humanity, Berenyi advocated that there was no greater value than that of self-love.”

Naomi grinned. “You mean vanity, right? Now that you mention this, it’s starting to sound familiar.”

“Precisely. Calling her vain really doesn’t do her arrogance justice; however, despite her flaws, Berenyi was vital to the resurgence of the passions within Zealian culture, although few outside our art accepted her claims that self-love was the end-all-be-all to our existence. Still…” Sessimine hung momentarily on the final letters of the word before continuing on. “…the School of Enchantment was very… different then than it is now. In the beginning, there was no theory behind charms or illusions – these had to be created and borrowed from other disciplines, and it would still be several generations before our order would begin this process. For nearly a hundred years after Berenyi mysteriously disappeared, the School of Enchantment was little more than a social club for bored aristocratic housewives. It was not until… ahem… the very lovely [NAME] became an influential figure within the kingdom did our discipline begin to take on the theories you are familiar with and earn the respect it so rightfully deserved as a distinguished arcane art!”

After turning back to Naomi to make sure her daughter was still listening and engaged in the all but one-sided conversation, the elder Maruyama continued to recount the history of the school she oversaw. “[NAME], besides being wonderfully beautiful as we’ve both suggested many times now, was well-known and respected for his intelligence and wisdom, despite his lack of training in the arcane sciences – a point his detractors and those envious of his influence routinely pointed out. In an effort to silence his critics, he enrolled in the School of Enchantment – the mystic art he considered to be the most practical – and blazed through what little curriculum existed at the time. Unfortunately for [NAME], but fortunately for us, his detractors were quick to point out he chose the least demanding of all the arcane colleges to study. Frustrated with his naysayers constant criticisms, but realizing that in reality that they were true to some extent, [NAME] decided to undertake a task that would once and for all prove his talents – to transform the Zealian Lonely Housewives’ Social Circle & Cotillion Society into a fully-functioning  educational facility.” The enchantress grinned, amused with her own wit. The Zealian Lonely Housewives’ Social Circle & Cotillion Society… what a brilliant name for am opera! I’ll have to remember that one… “In any case, [NAME] disappeared from public view for nearly five years before finally emerging from his self-imposed solitude, having written a slew of books concerning theories behind the art of enchantment… I suppose it goes without saying that he was successful in passing on what he learned from his compilations, although sadly, he was never successful in obtaining the approval of the critics he sought to win; it was only several generations later that the importance and the far-reaching effects of [NAME}’s work were fully appreciated.”

The younger Maruyama glanced over the handsome man’s portrait one last time before the image of another one of the school’s headmistresses caught her eye. Like all of the other women immortalized on the bedroom’s wall, she was very beautiful, but something about the academic diva bothered her – something Naomi couldn’t quite put her finger on. After staring at the portrait for a few minutes while her mother finished getting dressed, the exact source of her uneasiness finally struck her, but just as she was about to inquire into the woman’s identity, a knock came from the door.

“Naomi, please see who that is. It should be one of the prince’s aides or someone to escort us to the palace this evening.”

The student’s eyes widened as an expression of surprise overcame her relaxed visage. “An aide of the prince? You mean Prince Aias?!”

Sessimine replied, rolling her eyes – a gesture that went unseen due to her location behind a dressing screen; however, from her tone of voice, anyone with even a passing knowledge of the enchantress could have guessed the motion of her visual organs. “No Naomi, the other prince. Of course I’m referring to Prince Aias! You are aware that the King only has one male heir, aren’t you?”

“Yes, yes. I’m sorry… It’s just that… Well, I wasn’t aware you had any sort of personal relationship with his majesty. I mean, why would Prince Aias ask for your presence in particular at such an important social event as his sister’s birthday?”

The elder Maruyama stepped out from behind the screen with an exasperated look on her face and her hands locked – as usual – firmly on her hips. “Why would Prince Aias ask for me presence at such an important social event? Why wouldn’t he, is the question you should be asking! It’s not like I’m…” Sessimine’s rant was cut short by another knock on the bedroom’s ingress. With lips clenched tightly, the enchantress lifted one of her hands from its position and pointed toward the source of the tapping sound. “Just… get… the door, okay?”

Naomi scurried to the door and answered it with a polite a grin on her face as she could have possibly mustered. “Er… Hello? May I help you?”

Acting as if he had not heard any of the two women’s conversation – although from the look on the man’s face, it was obvious he had – the attendant returned the polite expression with one of his own. “I am here to escort Miss Sessimine Chisato Maruyama and whoever may be accompanying her this evening to the palace. There is a carriage waiting for us just outside the college gates whenever she is ready.”

The student turned back to her mother, who was now sitting at a dressing table, slowly applying makeup as if she had not a care in the world. Turning back toward the attendant, Naomi glanced one last time at her caretaker before replying. “I think she’s going to be awhile. I’d ask you to come in, but I don’t think mother would appreciate that. Why don’t you wait outside in the carriage and I’ll try to hurry her along as much as possible.”

The aide grinned, impressed with the young woman’s ability to resolve the situation. “Of course, madam. We’ll be waiting patiently outside for you. Until then…” The young man removed his hat and took a deep bow before departing for the carriage. Tickled with herself, Naomi closed the door and sat back down on the sofa with an amused expression on her face. Having momentarily forgotten about the spat moments before, the young woman remained seated until Sessimine tossed several containers of makeup back into the drawer which she kept them and looked herself over one last time before standing up from her vanity and posing before her daughter.

“Well? How do I look? Not as if I really need to ask, but…”

Naomi rubbed her chin, actively noticing her mother’s choice of clothing for the first time. For once, she was actually quite pleased – impressed, even – for the elder Maruyama had opted to wear something unquestionably modest by even the most conservative standards; after considering this for a moment, Naomi began to wonder why her mother’s newfound sense of decency hadn’t stuck her earlier. Sessimine’s attire consisted of an dark purple kimono which left an unusually lengthy trail of silk behind her when walking, a violet undergarment which – to Naomi’s delight – left everything to the imagination, and a golden sash and pair of gloves that she had chosen to wear solely because she had stumbled upon a similarly coloured vial of eyeshadow moments before.

“I like it, which coming from me, really means something, I guess. It looks… very traditional, yet sorta modern at the same time. I can’t say I would have expected you to dress like that, but it fits at the same time… I don’t think most people could pull off wearing a kimono.”

“Obviously you haven’t been paying attention to the latest fashion trends, although I appreciate the comment. The kimono is very stylish right now, at least if you’re of the proper social standing; however, I don’t think I’ve seen anyone wearing one long enough to pool about their feet – those knee-length dresses have been the fashion staple so far.” Content with her dress, Sessimine glanced back at the mirror, inspecting herself one last time, only to find an aspect of her appearance she had neglected. “Oh my! I nearly forgot!”

Naomi scratched her head. What could you have possibly forgotten? You’re dressed to the nines as is…”And what would that be?”

“My hair! The last time I met with the prince, I took the liberty of rummaging through his mind a little…”

The young woman gasped, cutting the elder Maruyama off. “Mother! That’s terrible! You can’t do that to a member of the royal family!”

Sessimine dismissed Naomi’s objection with a few nonchalant waves of her hand. “Calm down, calm down… Of course I don’t make a habit of invading Prince Aias’ mental privacy; however, being the loyal and submissive subject I am, I want to tend to his needs the best I possibly can.”

“And what, might I ask, does this have to do with your hair?”

“Prince Aias swoons over brunettes.”

“Mother! You’re not going to…” Before the student could finish the objection, Sessimine bowed over quickly, flailing her hair about wildly before standing straight once more, her inky locks having lightened up several degrees to a deep brown colour. Frustrated, Naomi continued her rant. “You can’t just go changing your appearance whenever you like! Don’t you think that’s just a little dishonest?”

“Dishonest?” Sessimine eyed her daughter bewilderedly. “First of all, I have never – nor has anyone in our art – championed the value of truth. The truth can be repugnant and uninviting, the very traits any enchantress with the slightest notion of her proper role seeks to avoid! I’m not suggesting we should lie whenever it suits us, but to value truth for the sake of truth is just…. well, silly – perhaps foolish, even! Secondly, my powers as an enchantress are part of who I am. My capacity to change my appearance as I see fit is a legitimate aspect of my persona as my incredibly clever wit. There’s nothing dishonest about changing the colour of my hair to impress someone – especially if that someone in question is a member of the royal family! And finally… well, silver just does not pair well with brown!”

A look of confusion manifested itself upon Naomi’s face. She frequently had trouble trying to follow her mother’s twisted sense of logic, but sometimes it was simply impossible to decipher the meaning behind the enchantress’ statements. “Pardon me?”

“My hair! What else would I be talking about? Remember those icy sparkles that annoy you so much?”

“Oh yes! Now I see what you’re saying. Yes, you should do something about that. Silver and brown don’t go together very well, you know.”

Sessimine rolled her eyes and stared at herself in the mirror for several minutes, mumbling to herself until the solution finally occurred to her. “Eureka! I’ve got it!”

Now it was Naomi’s turn to roll her eyes. “You mean you’ve discovered the obvious solution of removing the dye from your hair?”

“Of course not! That would be far too pedestrian for someone like me!” With a smirk on her face, the elder Maruyama ran a hand through her hair; several swoops later, the silver dye had turned golden to match the rest the accessories of her outfit. “There! Now what to do you think? Marvelous, no? I think it makes me look at least a hundred years younger, if I do say so myself!”

“I think you should present yourself to Prince Aias as you are and let him love you with all of your flaws.”

Sessimine’s eyes widened before her jaw could make its way toward the floor. “Oh… my… Naomi Maruyama, I don’t even know where to begin! Suggesting that I have flaws is bad enough, but suggesting that love has anything to do with this… I… I… You! Banish such preposterous ideas from your confused mind! I would never do something as foolhardy as falling in love – that’s entirely beneath me! I’ll have you know that Prince Aias asked me to the ball this evening because I have been interpreting his dreams lately! His majesty is merely finding a way to reciprocate the services I have provided for him so generously!”

And generous services I’m sure they were!

“I know what you’re thinking, Naomi – nothing of the sort took place! Now enough of this! We shouldn’t be arguing on the eve of such a delightful occasion! I look wonderful and you look wonderful, so we should be on our way. Agreed?” The elder Maruyama extended both hands toward her daughter, who was still seated firmly upon the sofa. Trying to repress a smile, Naomi allowed her mother to aid her to her feet and straightened out the wrinkles in her gown.

“Agreed. No more arguing.”

“Excellent!” Sessimine kissed the young woman on her cheek. “Let’s be off. I do believe we’ve provided the prince’s attendants with entertainment long enough.”

“What do you mean? They’re waiting for us in the carriage, which is supposed to be parked outside the school, right?”

Her back to the door, the enchantress grinned as she snapped one of her fingers. Seconds later, the same aide who had requested the two ladies’ presence earlier stepped into the room. “Oh cute - another eavesdropper! Naomi, you wouldn’t happen to remember what I did to the last person who snooped on me, do you?”

“Mother, don’t be cruel! Think delightful occasions!”

With arms crossed, the enchantress looked her daughter over and then turned to the overly curious servant, giving him the same icy yet playful stare. “Well! Looks like you’re getting off easy this time, aren’t you? A little advice, however… Stick to carriage driving and upholstery – you make for a lousy spy.” Smiling innocently, Sessimine tapped the captivated attendant on the shoulder and pointed toward the door. “Shall we be off?”

Leebot

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« Reply #28 on: December 07, 2004, 12:51:13 am »
Stylistically: You showed the thoughts of both Naomi and Sessimine at points, either pick one, or insert a section break.

Gramatically:

Quote
The elder Maruyama stepped out from behind the screen with an exasperated look on her face and her hands locked – as usual – firmly on her hips. “Why would Prince Aias ask for me presence at such an important social event? Why wouldn’t he, is the question you should be asking! It’s not like I’m…” Sessimine’s rant was cut short by another knock on the bedroom’s ingress. With lips clenched tightly, the enchantress lifted one of her hands from its position and pointed toward the source of the tapping sound. “Just… get… the door, okay?”


-"ask for me presence" -> "ask for my presence"

-Put the "Why wouldn't he," in quotes, like 'Why wouldn't he?'

Quote
“Dishonest?” Sessimine eyed her daughter bewilderedly. “First of all, I have never – nor has anyone in our art – championed the value of truth. The truth can be repugnant and uninviting, the very traits any enchantress with the slightest notion of her proper role seeks to avoid! I’m not suggesting we should lie whenever it suits us, but to value truth for the sake of truth is just…. well, silly – perhaps foolish, even! Secondly, my powers as an enchantress are part of who I am. My capacity to change my appearance as I see fit is a legitimate aspect of my persona as my incredibly clever wit. There’s nothing dishonest about changing the colour of my hair to impress someone – especially if that someone in question is a member of the royal family! And finally… well, silver just does not pair well with brown!”


-There's an extra period after the ellipses.

I'm no good with coming up with names (as evidenced by my spell list), so I can't help you there.

chronotriggerfreak

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« Reply #29 on: December 07, 2004, 08:15:19 pm »
Thanks. That's something I was looking forward to being corrected on. If there aren't any other comments--on style and prose more than anything else, as I proofread grammar fairly well myself--then I'll post it to the story thread tomorrow.

For now, Metroid Prime 2.