|
|
Post by Trilly (18426 words) on Oct 5, 2009 23:39:24 GMT -5
You just have this amazingly wry, playful tone you use in writing. ^^ I like these characters so far.
|
|
|
|
Post by Rikku on Oct 6, 2009 0:12:07 GMT -5
His dark-as-night-or-‘nite-as-the-case-may-be cloak would have looked more impressive if it hadn’t been partly covering his head in an effort to escape the sound. =D ...that is win. I'm glad for all the puns you can make out of the 'nite. And the characters seem quite win as well. And it's Rikku-writing and that just makes me happy on general principles. As am I! =D I may resort to it in times when my muse deserts me. 'Seren paused. There she was, stuck between a row of snarling rabid wolverines and a row of angry spaceships with lasers. Beneath her, the ground rumbled with the beginnings of the eruption, and the sun burned with the intensity that meant that a supernova was coming soon; there was no way out of this. She was suddenly struck by how amusing it was that night and 'nite sounded similiar.' ... And thanks. ^__^ ... That is quite irrelevant, yes! And I can't think of much to say in response to it, so I'm just going to grin inanely. =D *grins inanely back* =D ...It occurs to me that in a universe made of milk, it might be hard to be thirsty. Or to breathe. Not to mention that it would start to smell horrible after a while. xD You just have this amazingly wry, playful tone you use in writing. ^^ I like these characters so far. Yay! ^__^ Wry and playful. Good. That's good. And that's also good. ^___^ (Though I have a sneaky suspicion that for every interesting character in this thing, there'll be a hundred dozen characters I haven't even named yet. xD) |
|
|
|
Post by Rikku on Oct 6, 2009 2:14:42 GMT -5
... Aww, man, I forgot to include my favourite line. xD The Prince was going to say, 'Navy Intelligence? There's two words that seldom go together.' Darnit! Granted, I see no way to include it now, but that's a bit of a pain. And I'll really have to jump through hoops if I want to put it in the story proper.
... Oh well. =D
|
|
|
|
Post by insanepurpleone on Oct 7, 2009 1:28:49 GMT -5
Even without that line, it was awesome. I really like your writing style.
And I think my favorite line was the grain bit... "In which case it would have been quite bland, just a bunch of sacks all over the place, maybe spilling out a few grains here and there onto the floor, in the way that sacks of grain inevitably seemed to do, albeit mainly in illustrations of children’s picture books." I love stuff like that. :3
|
|
|
|
Post by Zylaa on Oct 8, 2009 15:19:53 GMT -5
XDDDD I was going to quote all of my favorite lines from that story, but there are way too many and I am low on time. I love it!
|
|
|
|
Post by Rikku on Oct 9, 2009 0:50:42 GMT -5
^____^ Thankies, both of you.
|
|
|
|
Post by insanepurpleone on Oct 9, 2009 1:10:51 GMT -5
I also feel the need to mention that I had no idea what Gunnerkrigg Court was... the mention on this thread made me curious, since you guys made it sound interesting, and I looked it up today, and am now on chapter three. Needless to say, I like it a lot! (Thus ends my non-Nano, mostly off-topic post...)
|
|
|
|
Post by Rikku on Oct 9, 2009 16:46:45 GMT -5
=D It is pretty neat is it not. Also ... Dare: Include misc. references and quotes throughout your NaNo. Bonus: If they make sense in context. Double above-bonus: If they sound like something that would be said anyway, and thus may not always be easily identifiable. Bonus2: If a character points out at least one reference. Double above-bonus: If they're not breaking the fourth wall by doing so. Heh heh heh. =D I may or may not be able to wrangle this, but I can imagine it making some nice filler. |
|
|
|
Post by Rikku on Oct 14, 2009 3:01:42 GMT -5
Workin' out stuff, because I'm about halfway through my planning time and not, strictly speaking, halfway through my planning. xD I never figure out my villains in time. Or, y'know. Plot.
Letchford Achilles captains the Gracenote, an impractical, Mule-designed spaceship intended more for stunning artistry than smuggling moonshine or banned Drinks So Alcoholic They're Very Nearly Corrosive (DSATVNC for short!) beneath the Navy's nose.
Achilles isn't very fond of the Navy, for a whole variety of reasons. He's a careful man, very big on planning, and so he was somewhat surprised when, one day, very shortly after he'd finally been caught and had his ship impounded, he found himself possessing a ship worth more than he could ever dream of, and not being quite sure what to do with it. He has slightly curly hair, and is of average height. And he's shortsighted. In these modern worlds, such a thing is almost unheard of. Actually, he used to be longsighted, and came out from the laser eye surgery shortsighted. Disgruntled, he gave up, and got some glasses.
(I haven't yet decided whether Achilles acquired the Gracenote a few years before the story begins, only shortly, or whether the story covers him obtaining it. I'm leaning towards the last, but I'm less than sure. While we're on the subject, I'm not sure whether I prefer Gracenote as one word or two, and whether or not I want to put it in italics throughout. Truly, I lead a difficult life.)
His cook is a cheerful, ruddy-cheeked man who has a habit of speaking in rhyme. His pilot is one of the Squidfolk, gloomy of temperament, and more skilled at piloting than navigating; his name is Mood, pronounced 'mud'. (Later, when Lady Luck boards the ship, he ... gets turned into a parrot. Yes, I know.) And he has a couple other miscellaneous crew, too. One of them is a mercenary or hunter of some description who - wait a minute. Wait a minute. =D I spy a chance for a meaningless coincidence here! Achilles's old hinter is the Nightkind guy! Yess! *punches the air* I love finding bizarre connections!
For example, the person who stars all this quest stuff is a girl called Georgette, who is the kid sister of Ada, Mule's wife. Ain't this great? I love NaNo!
I need a personality for Lady Luck, or at least a character design. D= I know she's catlike, goes by the name 'Felicia', and is Reynard's sister; but beyond that ....
Um, and I was gonna write stuff about the Navy and the Nightkind and the Ring, Cup, and Pen, but I'm running out of time, so this'll have to do. xD
|
|
|
|
Post by Rikku on Oct 22, 2009 1:07:07 GMT -5
As mentioned, the story of when Mule met Ada. I'm not happy with it at all, but hey, so long as it's fun to write, yeah? Mule Beckett hides a heart of gold beneath an absent-minded, not particularly tactful, in-fact-often-downright-rude-when-he's-uninspired exterior. =D About seven years before Starfall. There is a theory which states that every high-society party is exactly the same, and no one ever notices that they’ve eaten the same delightfully bland canapés and listened to the same soothing music and so on before because they’re too busy making sophisticated, meaningless conversation and furtively eyeing the other people’s gowns from behind the chocolate fondue fountain.
This one certainly didn’t offer anything special. The chandelier was so tinkly that guests kept on glancing up nervously and wondering aloud whether it was going to rain. One of them took cover a table and then had to try and pretend that he hadn’t, feeling rather silly.
The one thing the partygoers looked at even more the chandelier was a corner. This corner was not remarkable at all, and was, in fact, quite mundane, as corners went, though admittedly it had unusually beautiful wallpaper. One thing that might have drawn attention to the corner was the sheer amount of women in it.
They were all very young and giggly, and all wore wide-eyed, attentive expressions. They were also, to a one, beautiful.
If you scooted to the side a bit, the object of their adoration could be seen, and it was he that made this particular corner memorable. Surely a man who was moderately handsome but no more than that could not attract so much female company, or the eyes of just about everyone in the company.
But he could. Oh, how he could.
He was about twenty-five, maybe twenty-six; tallish, of average build, with longish sandy-blond hair and a face that was fairly pleasing but would have been even more pleasing if it hadn’t been wearing an expression of slight boredom. The fawning ladies surrounding him were all draped in golden chains and strings of jewellery and oil-pearls, to the extent that they clinked even more than the chandelier. He presented a sharp and somewhat jarring contrast, because he was wearing shabby, comfortable-looking clothes that were stained with paint and smeared with clay.
His name was Mule Beckett. He was the richest man in the room.
Mule had already been to several dozen of these parties in the last … oh, three days or so. Normally, he wouldn’t be quite so prodigious; he certainly couldn’t attend each function he got an invitation to, because, being Mule Beckett, he got an invitation to just about every function. In fact, he’d just come from the Antelope Admirers’ yearly banquet, and was somewhat surprised to discover that the constant compliments these inevitable women were paying him were even duller than the muted but passionate discussion of the various benefits of dik-diks versus impalas that he’d just left.
“Oh,” crooned one woman, who had precariously arranged hair and looked about half his age, “you simply must tell me more of your heart, dearest Mule!”
“I believe you meant to say ‘art’ just then,” said Mule.
“Perhaps,” she said, fluttering her eyelashes at him so wildly he was surprised they didn’t fall off. She then giggled.
It was an irritating sort of giggle. He hated giggles like that.
Another lady smiled at him over her champagne glass. It was the kind of smile that is known as ‘becoming’; Mule wondered what, exactly, it was becoming, and decided a moment later, resignedly, that it was probably going to become another giggle. “So, Mister Beckett. How does it feel to be the richest man in the room?”
“Quite boring. And it’s quite a small room.”
The ladies looked at each other. The room was gargantuan.
“How on earth did you arrange your hair?” one simpered sweetly.
“I brushed it.”
“Oh, your clothing style is so unique!”
He couldn’t quite think of a reply to that one, and was saved the bother by the sudden arrival of yet another lady.
On second glance, she was different. Her hair was red – not red as fire, or red as passion, or anything so dramatic as that. Just red, beautiful, strong red. But he’d seen beauty before – it was all around him, smiling sweetly with sugared lips - and he’d certainly seen more beauty than this woman possessed. Sure she was pretty, but … hey. She was actually older than him. There was something unusual.
“Oh, not another one,” he said to her, so grateful to her for saving him from dull conversation that he was almost willing to converse with her. “Haven’t you got some other man to seduce?”
She drew herself up to her full height. She had strong features, too, and was, right now, scowling. “What kind of arrogant prat—”
And then she looked at him again, and the ladies around him, and fell abruptly silent.
“Ah,” she said, her voice more cautious, though not that much, and still a little haughtier than he was used to. “That kind. Excuse me, I have to go … admire … the refreshments. Admiringly.”
She walked away again, leaving an indignantly stunned silence in her wake, as all the ladies flounced their skirts and pursed their lips and shook their head disapprovingly at her boldness.
Mule stared after her.
“You’re so handsome when you’re insulted!” giggled one woman, a girl with bleached-blond hair set in ringlets.
“Shut up, you empty-headed pigeonbrain,” he said, and then added, conscientiously, “Sorry. That was quite inaccurate.”
She preened. “Oh. Well, I—”
“You can’t be empty-headed and a pigeonbrain. Got to be one or the other. Can’t quite decide which, though. Will you excuse me?”
Leaving her gasping like a fish, he exited his little circle of admirers.
The red-haired woman was nearly to the drinks table, but he beat her to the punch, quite literally. She came to a stop, recognising him. She frowned, her lower lip sticking out a little, lending her expression a petulance that ruined the defiance in it. She probably didn’t realise she pouted like that when she frowned.
He leaned against the table as casually as it is possible to lean against a highly expensive wooden table groaning under the weight of a massive punch bowl, ie, not very casually.
“Hello,” he said, in what he hoped was a suave voice but wasn’t. “Would you like a drink?”
“Not particularly. I don’t like any of these drinks.”
“Yeah, neither do I,” he said, instantly.
“You’ve half finished yours,” she said, pointing.
He glanced down at his gold champagne. “So I have,” he said. “Um. What a … woeful … mischance.”
“Mischance,” she repeated, and snorted. It might have been a laugh.
“Was that a laugh?” he edged.
“No.”
Oh well. “Back there, you …”
“Intruded on your little circle of admirers. Sorry. You must have been quite enjoying the attention.”
“Actually, I hate being the centre of attention.”
“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow. “Then why are you trying to get my attention?”
He leaned forward, glad to admit it. “Because you didn’t pay me any attention. No one’s done that before!”
“Right. Because of course all of Little Squid revolves around you.”
“Well, they seem to think it does.” He gave a pitying sort of laugh. “Like having money makes me more important than everyone else.”
“And do you think it does?”
Mule was taken by surprise. “No?” he said hesitantly. “Is no the answer you want me to give? I can’t tell, with you.”
“Ugh.” She started to turn away from him. “I’m going to ignore you now.”
“Please do!” he said eagerly.
She snorted again, and it might have almost been a laugh this time, though if it was, it was a reluctant one.
“Yes!” he enthused. “Go on ignoring me! Please? Hey, not that much!”
For she had started to walk away. He hurried to catch up, in a most undignified way.
“Wait!” he called.
She gave no response, just rolled her eyes. With a stab of annoyance, he saw that she was nearly out the door, and then …
Gone.
He stared after her for a second, and then dashed out after her.
Miridian was a sky-high city, and bridges criss-crossed the world. She started walking out across a broad bridgestreet, hugging her shawl around her, and he half-ran, half-walked to catch up.
She shot him a look of pure irritation and walked faster.
He could see what she thought of him; just some strange rich man who thought he was the centre of the universe, just some man who was bothering her, just some … arrogant prat. She obviously had no respect for him whatsoever.
Of course, that just made him even more intrigued.
“You make me feel enthusiastic,” he told her, now almost running so as not to lose her. “Will you be my muse?”
“What?” she said, startled out of silence.
“I’ve been looking for one. You seem interesting.”
She turned away again.
“Yes! See that? What you just did, there? That was interesting! You’re annoyed by me!”
She nodded.
“You probably think I’m immature!”
Only this woman could make a nod seem sardonic and mocking and wry all at once.
“You’re so honest! Can I see you again?”
“No.”
“But can I try?”
“No.”
“I’ll woo you. I’ll … buy you … flowers! Do you like flowers?” He was speaking so rapidly that she gave him a pitying look, and he, sensing an opportunity, expanded on his topic. “I will make you flowers! My muse, for you, I will construct flowers out of worlds—”
“Stop it—” she began, raising a hand in protest.
“I will spin flowers from silken threads, paint flowers on flower-printed paper, fold that paper into paper flowers—”
“Really—” she began, half-laughing, and he, triumphantly, stopped walking.
“You laughed!” he said. “You really did!”
“No I didn’t,” she said instantly, and walked faster.
“You did,” he called after her, gloatingly. “Can’t deny it!”
“You’re an arrogant prat!”
“I know you are, you said you are, but what—” he sing-songed.
“Oh, come on!” she wailed, nearly out of sight now, and he half-thought he glimpsed amusement through her exasperation.
“So I’ll see you tomorrow, Muse!” he shouted after her.
The distant figure slumped its shoulders in resignation.
“With flowers!” he added, and stood, watching, even after she’d boarded her carship and was long gone, warmed by the creativity burning in him.
Yes. She would do nicely. She was the one he’d been looking for without quite knowing it. She was the one he’d marry.
Although he’d like to know her name first. |
|
|
|
Post by Kathleen on Oct 23, 2009 19:57:45 GMT -5
Whee! =D I like that story. <3 Especially how she ignores him. *nod* Why are you not happy with it? D=
|
|
|
|
Post by Rikku on Oct 23, 2009 20:54:58 GMT -5
Whee! =D I like that story. <3 Especially how she ignores him. *nod* Why are you not happy with it? D= ^_^ Because it's not quite what I intended it to be, and I always find that comparing what I intended something to be to what it turned out as leaves me a little jaded. D= Doubtless I'll rediscover it a few months from now and giggle over whatever humour I stuck in it; that's usually how these things work. That said, I ought to get my mind prepared to deal with things changing en-route from my mind to Word. This is NaNo, after all. xD |
|
|
|
Post by Rikku on Oct 30, 2009 20:28:50 GMT -5
NaNo is tomorrow.
... Okaygranted I don't write on Sundays so I'm going to have to write two day's worth on Monday, when I have school and orchestra and everything but nonetheless! NaNo! Is! Tomorrow!
Expect my posts to be saturated with '=D's from today onwards.
Okay, I have things mostly sorted; a shape of the plot, which is enough with luck, and things for each character to angst about, and funtimes, and a 'ship or two lurking in the corner. Reynard hasn't quite revealed his personality to me yet, but I'm sure he will, as will Ferre, hopefully. Oh this is going to be so much fun!
=D
=DD
=DDD
... I did warn you.
NaNo. Starts. Tomorrow.
...
=D!
|
|
|
|
Post by Kathleen on Oct 31, 2009 19:02:47 GMT -5
I feel much the same way about these: =DDD Well, okay, about pretty much everything. 'Cept for the Sunday thing; I'll probably not be writing at all on Monday.
But anyway, the point of this was a shared squee of joy and a good luck. =D
|
|
|
|
Post by Rikku on Nov 2, 2009 2:27:58 GMT -5
Yes, good luck to you too! ^__^ I say this here because I haven't seemed to have got the chance to post on everyone's threads yet, or indeed read them, which is a crying shame and must be remedied at soonest opportunity but yes.
It begins.
Hmm ... woke up earlyish this morning. Wrote two thousand words. Wrote another handful just now. Am feeling happy with NaNojoy and hugging people randomly for no real reason. A good day, though woefully devoid of puns.
|
|
