Post by Naem on Jul 4, 2009 3:28:14 GMT 10
I am being forced to write things. A summary of what happened:
No, seriously. So, uh, you know that whole thing about my characters and how you don't actually know anything about them? You will now, I guess. Mind you, my story is in such an incomplete and flawed state it doesn't even have a title yet. There are still plot holes to be filled. Still... I don't really have a choice, eh? Any help, support and comments will be greatly appreciated.
Yes yes I know LPs I'll update etc etc
***
The cynical do not believe in miracles. However, some would argue life itself is a miracle. Is there such a thing as “destiny”? Probably not, but no one can deny that, sometimes, the river of life flows in a way that seems supernaturally arranged. The people we meet, the friends we make, the good and bad things we go through... Sometimes, everything seems to happen for a specific reason, even our misfortunes; those, in particular, can lead to unexpected joy, no matter how hopeless they make you feel at first. The soulmate you're searching for could be on the other side of the world right now; deep within the ones you believe to be your enemies, there could be the heart of the best friends you will ever have. Life works that way.
This story begins in a village, where the flow of this river is about to be dramatically affected. The results, well, those were only seen nearly 300 years later... in what we would call the present time.
Two people sat at a table, both of them mostly strangers to each other. They were struggling to communicate, as neither knew the other's language. In fact, even their cultures differed greatly. One of them was a woman, a native from this village, dressed in old-looking, exotic clothing. She wasn't exactly young, but her worry lines were a bit more pronounced than they should be. The other was a foreign man, sharp-eyed and carrying a notebook. His clothes looked expensive; the woman facing him didn't know this, of course, but they were quite fashionable in France at the time. The most unusual thing about this man wasn't what he was carrying or his clothing, though - he looked somewhat like a large teddy bear, or perhaps an otter. That is, if either of them had horns or tiny, probably residual wings.
Both were speechless. Well, they knew exactly what to say; the problem was they didn't know how to say it. The man knew the woman's name; it was something like "Reida". The girl he was looking for had told him so a few years ago. Now, how would he ask Reida, the girl's mother, where to find her? The woman stood up before he could think further. She picked up what appeared to be a bunch of wrapped up cloth and showed it to the man. It was, in fact, a baby, probably no older than six months old.
"Le nez d'Areia..."
Reida's eyes widened at the mention of Areia. The strange man's job was apparently much easier than he had first thought. "Areia...?" he repeated, more slowly this time.
Reida closed her eyes and lowered her head. After a moment, tears began to silently fall down her face. The message was clear. But what could have happened? Areia was young, healthy and fit... Was it an accident? A demon, maybe? The foreigner was able to ask no more, though. Something was audibly going on outside.
The woman opened the door to her home and, as she saw what was happening, let out a loud gasp. The man then had a look himself and what he saw was definitely surprising. Men in iron armour confronting others who appeared to be the village's own warriors. He recognised the style of the armours - they were Spanish. But how and why were they here? This village had been hidden for centuries. Some years ago, an event led to its protection being nullified... But he was certain the Spanish were convinced there was nothing around there. Did they follow him? Well, perhaps it WAS odd to see a writer walking off into the wilderness.
The two exchanged a look of worry. Reida then looked at the baby and, once again, at the foreigner. He understood, and the woman's eyes made it clear that she didn't need help. She held her young granddaughter in her arms and escaped through the back door, never to be seen again.
At this point in time, many lives ended. In other places far away, though, some began their new lives and others still continued as if nothing important was happening. Many were living a dead life, and a few waited to be born. But the baby, the daughter of Areia, who was no longer living... The baby was not even at this point in time anymore.
<FE> Gee I wish I had some kind of motivation to write
<Fiery> Write if you want me to unban you
<FE> Aww crap
<Fiery> Write if you want me to unban you
<FE> Aww crap
No, seriously. So, uh, you know that whole thing about my characters and how you don't actually know anything about them? You will now, I guess. Mind you, my story is in such an incomplete and flawed state it doesn't even have a title yet. There are still plot holes to be filled. Still... I don't really have a choice, eh? Any help, support and comments will be greatly appreciated.
Yes yes I know LPs I'll update etc etc
***
PROLOGUE
The cynical do not believe in miracles. However, some would argue life itself is a miracle. Is there such a thing as “destiny”? Probably not, but no one can deny that, sometimes, the river of life flows in a way that seems supernaturally arranged. The people we meet, the friends we make, the good and bad things we go through... Sometimes, everything seems to happen for a specific reason, even our misfortunes; those, in particular, can lead to unexpected joy, no matter how hopeless they make you feel at first. The soulmate you're searching for could be on the other side of the world right now; deep within the ones you believe to be your enemies, there could be the heart of the best friends you will ever have. Life works that way.
This story begins in a village, where the flow of this river is about to be dramatically affected. The results, well, those were only seen nearly 300 years later... in what we would call the present time.
Two people sat at a table, both of them mostly strangers to each other. They were struggling to communicate, as neither knew the other's language. In fact, even their cultures differed greatly. One of them was a woman, a native from this village, dressed in old-looking, exotic clothing. She wasn't exactly young, but her worry lines were a bit more pronounced than they should be. The other was a foreign man, sharp-eyed and carrying a notebook. His clothes looked expensive; the woman facing him didn't know this, of course, but they were quite fashionable in France at the time. The most unusual thing about this man wasn't what he was carrying or his clothing, though - he looked somewhat like a large teddy bear, or perhaps an otter. That is, if either of them had horns or tiny, probably residual wings.
Both were speechless. Well, they knew exactly what to say; the problem was they didn't know how to say it. The man knew the woman's name; it was something like "Reida". The girl he was looking for had told him so a few years ago. Now, how would he ask Reida, the girl's mother, where to find her? The woman stood up before he could think further. She picked up what appeared to be a bunch of wrapped up cloth and showed it to the man. It was, in fact, a baby, probably no older than six months old.
"Le nez d'Areia..."
Reida's eyes widened at the mention of Areia. The strange man's job was apparently much easier than he had first thought. "Areia...?" he repeated, more slowly this time.
Reida closed her eyes and lowered her head. After a moment, tears began to silently fall down her face. The message was clear. But what could have happened? Areia was young, healthy and fit... Was it an accident? A demon, maybe? The foreigner was able to ask no more, though. Something was audibly going on outside.
The woman opened the door to her home and, as she saw what was happening, let out a loud gasp. The man then had a look himself and what he saw was definitely surprising. Men in iron armour confronting others who appeared to be the village's own warriors. He recognised the style of the armours - they were Spanish. But how and why were they here? This village had been hidden for centuries. Some years ago, an event led to its protection being nullified... But he was certain the Spanish were convinced there was nothing around there. Did they follow him? Well, perhaps it WAS odd to see a writer walking off into the wilderness.
The two exchanged a look of worry. Reida then looked at the baby and, once again, at the foreigner. He understood, and the woman's eyes made it clear that she didn't need help. She held her young granddaughter in her arms and escaped through the back door, never to be seen again.
At this point in time, many lives ended. In other places far away, though, some began their new lives and others still continued as if nothing important was happening. Many were living a dead life, and a few waited to be born. But the baby, the daughter of Areia, who was no longer living... The baby was not even at this point in time anymore.
