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Post by Deleted on Mar 30, 2014 19:25:21 GMT -5
Not fun for long! The angst train's due in about...six-hundred words.  |
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Post by Shinko on Mar 30, 2014 19:35:43 GMT -5
Well of course, those are the rules.
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Post by Shinko on Mar 30, 2014 22:13:45 GMT -5
I'm free again if anyone wants to go for a while.
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Post by Deleted on Mar 31, 2014 13:18:37 GMT -5
*dances* Anybody up for a word war today? I'm free for a little bit right now and probably more later.
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Post by Deleted on Mar 31, 2014 13:29:31 GMT -5
I'll be ready in ten minutes, maybe!
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Post by Deleted on Mar 31, 2014 13:35:18 GMT -5
Awesome!  Just let me know when you're ready and how long to go for! |
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Post by Deleted on Mar 31, 2014 13:39:14 GMT -5
Ready! Shall we start at :45 and go for 45 minutes?
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Post by Deleted on Mar 31, 2014 13:43:35 GMT -5
Sounds great!
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Post by Deleted on Mar 31, 2014 14:31:50 GMT -5
702! Not bad at all! A wide grin spread across Isengrim’s own muzzle and his tail wagged fast as a Poogle at the races. “Do you require anything else from my hoard?” he asked excitedly, turning back to the piles.
“No!” Terra laughed, putting a hand on his arm to stop him. “No, I’m fine, this will do fine, thank you,” she assured him. It was incredible to see him so eager to please, and that bit of innocent endearment she had seen from him last night returned. If only dealing with him the rest of the time wasn’t so frustrating.
Sighing, Isengrim looked back at her. “If you are sure. Know, though, that all I have is yours, owner.” He put a paw to his chest and bowed to her.
Terra gave him a bittersweet smile. “Thanks.” He didn’t seem to comprehend that material wealth meant nothing to her compared to just being understood and appreciated. She began to run the comb through her hair, working out the snarls. “So what happened to those Faerie weapons? Did they survive the destruction of your keep?”
Isengrim’s ears twitched forward. “Of course. You can’t unmake a Faerie weapon that easily. But they are not here.” His lips curled. “Nasty things, those Faeries craft. I wouldn’t use them in a thousand ages. When I seized the Burrows, I sold the weapons to replenish my hoard.”
Terra looked up at him, wincing as she teased out a particularly tough tangle. “So Werelupes and Faeries don’t get along, huh?”
“We loathe Faeries,” he growled, “and they loathe us.”
“Is Balthazar a Werelupe?”
“He is something approaching one. He could be, if he so chose, but he has not yet let the wild completely overtake him,” Isengrim explained. “And he prefers to live and work alone rather than in a pack.” He examined his claws. “Still, he is one of my close associates, and he regularly sends me tribute from what he catches.”
“Huh.” Terra put the comb in her pouch and began to re-braid her hair. “Makes sense.”
Isengrim let out a sharp breath. “Well. It is time for lunch, let’s go.” He took a hold of her shoulder again and steered her out of the room, giving one last glance over his shoulder at his hoard before shutting the door.
The trip back to the commons cavern went well in some regards and miserably in others. Isengrim was pleased that Terra no longer quailed and faltered at crossing bridges. Terra lost more and more of her appetite with the mounting pressure of being coerced to earn someone’s approval. Going over bridges did not become any easier, and in fact became more difficult because she had not only the inherent instinctive fear of falling, but the very real and present danger of losing Isengrim’s favor. But she pushed herself onward.
They had lunch with Suhel and Pharazon again. This time Terra treated herself to vegetable stew, having to drink it from the bowl as there was a distinct lack of cutlery at the Werelupes’ distinct lack of tables. She noticed that all of the flatware was made of clay, decorated with crescent moons and more abstract patterns.
Isengrim, meanwhile, picked up a platter of roast pork. He tore off a large chunk of meat and then set the platter down nearby Terra.
Terra studiously ignored it and went for a bowl of peas. “Isengrim, did you paint the ceiling in here?” she asked, gazing up at the murals. “It looks like the paintings in your grotto.”
“We all did, under my instruction,” he replied, scooting a bowl of smoked fish closer to her. “The motifs are of my own design, but it was a group effort. To symbolize our unity as a pack.” He pointed to a cluster of pawprints next to a drawing of a running Whinny. “See? Those are Suhel’s.”
Terra eyed the fish with distaste and reached for a plump tomato. While she tried not to make a mess with it, at the first bite the juices spilled out over her hand, so she quickly gave up on that plan.
Suhel chuckled, her eyes dropping in embarrassment. “Milord, please.” |
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Post by Deleted on Mar 31, 2014 14:33:20 GMT -5
431! A small improvement. That brings me to 763 words for this story. Full story thus far: Sun-dappled leaves, paint-spattered students, and winds whistling their own familiar tune. A pen twirled in her lavender fingers, then tapped against the notebook. Just like that, ink descended upon paper, each word flowing together in cursive. And just like that, Lilah Lieber found her story finished. After giving it a few staples and a name at the top — for she always saved the name for last, for it was more satisfying to affix it to a finished work — she looked down at the story and smiled.
“Congrats on your latest catastrophe,” snickered the grinning faerie Wocky beside her. Chuckling, Lilah put a paw on the Wocky’s bright pink shoulder and leaned towards an ear.
“Better than you’ll ever manage, Ellie,” she whispered. She drew away sharply as the Wocky stuck out a tongue. “Anyway!” She clapped her paws against the desk and surveyed the room. Save for her and Ellie, there were only two other members of the school literary magazine present. “Who here is ready for some full-on concrit?”
A few lazy gestures, all suggesting participation. Half-hearted participation, that is. The rest would sugarcoat their words, no doubt, but Lilah - goodness, sometimes she wondered if she was the only member with a spine! It pained her so, to see one neopet tack on an apology to feedback that did not merit one. She knew Ellie hated it, though the Wocky recoiled at proper criticism just as much. Either way, it was a trying ordeal. Neither co-editor in chief would receive the response they so desired. And yet again, the club would have to churn out an underwhelming literary magazine, because no one seemed to care.
Irritation had already flared up within her, a fierceness that contrasted sharply with her actual demeanor. Her entire appearance was built around pastels and soft shapes, from the miniature teacups turned earrings to the classic rosy dress that she had ironed out that very morning. These niceties boosted her confidence quite well, in a way her co-editor, as an unconverted pet, would never understand. Lilah hardly envied her that, nor her poor social skills. Nevertheless, every so often look upon the Wocky with contempt, far more sincere and burning than the sort the two volleyed back and forth at club meetings.
Ever since the two had teamed up to resurrect the school’s literary magazine, they had shared a uniquely vitriolic acquaintanceship. Neither could call the other a friend, for they scarcely met outside meetings and took no real interest in the other’s personal life. Sometimes a granule of drama would float to the surface, be it the bullying inevitable for a Wocky that refused to wear clothes, or the tense relationship between a Zafara and her high-maintenance owner. But that made no difference. They were satisfied where they were, as neither friends nor enemies, their words untouched by true antipathy. Instead they would carry on in the most professional manner manageable. And yet, and yet, and yet…
Enough of that pile of dung, Lilah thought to herself, putting her muzzle in her paws, leaning forward on the desk as the other three passed around her story. Onto the good stuff.
“So…” drawled the red Grundo to her left, flipping through the pages. “It’s about Faerieland again?” He sent her a skeptical, tight-lipped look, then returned to reading. After a few minutes, he announced, “The prose is cool, but I don’t get what’s going on, sorry.”
“What do you mean?” asked Lilah.
“It’s just…” The Grundo scratched the back of his head. “I dunno. It’s like you’re trying to make a point about something, but there’s so much going on that it can’t really get across? Sorry.”
“What?” The Zafara blinked, crinkled her nose, and said, “Don’t apologize. But…whatever. Naomi?” A striped Korbat lifted her head from the desk, groaning. “Yeah, never mind. Ellie, what do you think?” The faerie Wocky bit down on her tongue; her tail flicked back and forth rapidly, anxiously. Finally, after exhaling softly, she spoke.
It was too long, for one, to function as a short story. The Neopian Times—how often did she mention the Times, as if it was the alpha and omega of creative writing?—well, they wouldn’t accept anything over four-thousand words, so it would be best to split it up into a series. Write more and see where it goes? Yeah. Lilah nodded along, listening curiously, and until one line broke her concentration:
“—that’s what Lana told me, at least.” Also, whoops. Angst train came earlier than expected. >___> |
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Post by Deleted on Mar 31, 2014 14:41:52 GMT -5
Haha, interesting! I like your exploration of how a UC pet would function in society, and writing about writing is always fun. I don't think I've ever seen a story about critique, so that's really cool. And I like the intrigue at the end, I really want to know what happens next and who this Lana person is.
Feel like going again?
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Post by Deleted on Mar 31, 2014 14:44:47 GMT -5
Yeah, at :00? It's actually a continuation of some other short stories of mine! ^^ Specifically, this one. Lana's this semi-famous writer who ends up mentoring Ellie a bit? For some reason or another. |
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Post by Deleted on Mar 31, 2014 14:45:53 GMT -5
Sounds good! How long did you want to go for?
Ooooh, I see. Neat!
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Post by Deleted on Mar 31, 2014 14:49:03 GMT -5
Half an hour would be good! I'm taking a break mostly because I haven't had lunch yet. >> That one was pretty fun to write. I initially wrote it for a creative writing project. Humanized, of course. |
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Post by Deleted on Mar 31, 2014 14:50:12 GMT -5
Sounds great!
Ooh, I see. Fun stuff. ^^
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Just let me know when you're ready and how long to go for!