December88
Well-Known Member
- Joined
- Nov 17, 2008
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Hello everyone. This is the 8th version of the opening for my WIP: Anathema.
I do actually have a progloue to this in which i show the past of one of the main characters in this chapter - Simariel.
Anyhow, i would appreciate it if you people could look over this and tell me if it was able to grab your attention/hook you and whether it was interesting or not. Grammar nitpicks are a bonus (There could be alot of them as i haven't really been paying attention to spellings/punctuation).
Thanks in advance!
I have killed enough to know that the real enemy is not the one at the end of my blade but the one who told me to kill him.
Words written in blood, scrawled upon a piece of parchment that had slipped from between pages of a book. The book belonged to the new girl and she had dropped it when the bullies came to take her.
Newcomers were a rarity at the academy and breaking into the tightly knit community of elite students was a daunting task, one made impossible when the new girl had for some reason, chosen to foul mouth an elf. Now she found herself in the clutches of seniors, being led away for ridicule. No one would object of course, to offend one elf was to offend everybody else because simply put, everyone one loved the elves, even Varrin Ebonlocke, though maybe not all that much. Varrin was also a senior, however he was not a part of the posse, he was instead making use of the opportunity to shamelessly look through the girl's book.
But Varrin wasn't a thief or a snoop by nature, he was just a boy who had been intoxicated by an alluring curiosity ever since he had first laid his eyes upon the girl, or rather the first time she had laid her eyes upon him.
It had been in class earlier; he had caught her staring at him, but when their eyes had met, his own had been repelled almost instantly. It simply wasn't right; as far as Varrin could recall, the person to turn away, face burning with guilt, was supposed to be the person caught staring, not the other way around.
He had been too frightened to look at her after that but her strangely attractive, outlandish looks and quaint dress sense – both of which had been observed in that heart stopping fragment of a second – were more than enough to distract him for an eternity. Simariel, that was her name, different, but delightfully so to Varrin.
Laughter – the cruel sort – erupted from somewhere in the direction of the main grounds. A tinge of pity coated with guilt pricked Varrin and he closed the book. Absolved, he turned his attention to the strip of parchment, and flattening it against his knee, began to read it. He paused only a few words in, went back to the start and read it again, and then, again. Once more, much more slowly this time.
A high pitched scream shattered Varrin's dumbfounded expression and he looked up, startled. Voices cried out in alarm and then, anger. Something had gone wrong.
Footsteps, just about distinguishable over the din of rabble, someone was approaching. Fumbling with the parchment and his nerves, Varrin managed to clumsily cram the former in between the cover of the book before the person broke into the clearing.
Her hair -although short - was disheveled, her face; smudged with dirt and clothes; torn. Her eyes settled upon Varrin exactly as they had earlier that day – horribly expressionless and empty.
“You dropped it when they took you.” said Varrin at a loss for anything else to say. He extended the book timidly.
“I know.” replied Simariel in a whispering voice.
Silence.
Varrin's hand started to hurt, the book wasn't heavy, but the awkward position of his outstretched arm caused his muscles to groan in pain.
All of a sudden Simariel snatched the book, just as Varrin's arm began to tremble hurtfully. Opening it, she quickly flipped through the pages to make sure nothing had been taken. She reached the inside of the back cover and stopped.
Another long bout of silence, a stifling one this time; one that seemed to be waiting for a confession.
“I never touched or read anything I swear!” appealed Varrin. It was a stupid thing to say, the parchment was folded in a haphazard angle and its edges were sticking out of the book quite blatantly.
Simariel extended her stare, penetrating Varrin and ripping apart any scraps of self confidence and assurance that still flitted within him. And then, she was gone.
Nearly a full minute later, Varrin stumbled out of the clearing and onto the main lawn. His head was spinning and he realized that he had been holding his breathe for quite sometime. He was allowed a few gasps of cool air before he had to hold it again.
The grounds were in chaos. A large group of students had formed a large,confused circle by the buildings and others, mainly juniors, ran to and fro from the fountain to the circle carrying what seemed to be pieces of torn uniform soaked in water.
“Excuse me, sorry, excuse me. Move. Move, out of the way!” Varrin reached the congregation and pushed and pulled his way into the center clearing.
Three seniors sat on the ground, massaging various parts of their hurt bodies. But in the middle, sprawled upon the ground, covered in purple bruises and gashes that streamed with blood, were two elves.
Rajak and Nyssa mouthed Varrin as he knelt beside the elves. He knew their names, but then again, everyone knew all the elves' names. They seemed to have been beaten, and quite badly; their otherwise immaculate, fair faces, were blemished with scratches and scars.
“Here!” cried someone, thrusting a soaking piece of someone's shirt at Varrin. Following the example of others around him, Varrin began to gently swab away at the blood and dirt upon Nyssa's face and arms. As he did so, a deep, inexplicable sorrow filled him, one that almost had him upon the brink of tears. A timid look to the left and right revealed a similar feeling reflected in the faces of those around him; he was not alone in sorrow.
But Varrin lacked something that everyone around him felt – anger. For they were full of hatred toward the person who had done such a terrible thing to the elves, and they knew who it was, even Varrin knew who it was even though he hadn't seen what had happened, yet he felt no anger, only awe and wonder.
“What happened here?” a clear voice cut above the rabble; a professor had arrived on the scene. “Joel Sillard, go fetch the nurse. You, you and you, get those boys inside!”
“Come one!” said someone, grabbing Varrin by the arm.
“Arrain, what?” cried Varrin, recognizing his brother.
“Professor Remulin needs to know what happened, come on!”
“But I didn't see what happened! Arrain stop!” protested Varrin as his brother continued to pull him onward.
“Doesn't matter.”
“Doesn't matter? But I don't know what happened!”
Deaf to Varrin's protests, Arrain craned his neck, looking through the crowd. He spotted what he was searching for and plunged forward, Varrin in tow. “Aslin!” yelled Arrain, lifting a hand and motioning to an elf. “Over here! Aslin!”
Aslin; tall, handsome and graceful as all elves were, weaved toward and joined the two brothers. Varrin immediately stopped his protests; Aslin's presence was comforting and he would speak the truth. It was not that Varrin didn't trust his brother, he was just a little afraid that Arrain might exaggerate the story – whatever it may be.
“Alright come on.”
“Prefects! Are there any prefects here?” cried professor Remulin.
“Right here sir.” replied Arrain.
“Good.” said the professor, running his eyes upon Aslin, Arrain and Varrin. “Whats the matter with you Varrin, sick? No? Alright, come on then, lets go inside while the nurses take care of this.” He turned to the crowd of students. “To your classes everyone, it warms me to see that you are concerned but everything will be taken care off.”
The four of them climbed the steps to the main building and entered a quiet corridor. “Alright boys, Asilin, tell me what went on and hurry please, there are six new students coming in tomorrow, very important ones, and I have a lot of work ahead of me.”
“It was the new girl sir.”
The professor thought for a moment. “Simariel isn't it?”
“I think so sir.”
“It is.” said Varrin, a little loudly. He looked down and made to straighten out the hems of his breeches, trying to avoid Arrain's narrowed eyes and conceal his own embarrassment.
“Were you lot giving her trouble?” asked Remulin.
“If we were, would that justify what she did sir?” replied Arrain.
“No, it wouldn't, but I need to know. And watch your tone Arrain.”
“I'm sorry sir.” said Arrain, he paused while Remulin gave him a quick nod, then continued. “It was the same girl who bad mouthed Jarod earlier sir, for no reason at all, right after class. She...”
Remulin raised his hand, silencing Arrain. “I do not want to know of her whole past Arrain, tell me what happened upon the field, thats all.”
“If I may sir?” asked Asilin, stepping forward.
“Of course Aislin, please go ahead.”
“As my friend Arrain said sir, the girl bad mouthed Jarod earlier for apparently no reason. She berated him as soon as our history class ended and well...”
“We, the seniors, thought that she needed a little lesson in manners.” interrupted Arrain, finishing Asilin's sentence for him.
“I ask that you do not interrupt Arrain.” said the professor in a stern manner. “Ah, well go on then master Ebonlocke.”
Arrain nodded. “It was nothing serious sir, harmless, all done in good nature of course...”
“What did you do to her Arrain?” cut in the professor.
“Just a little name calling sir, ragging; to teach her some manners.”
“And?”
“She pulled a knife on us sir, from the pockets of her breeches.”
Varrin looked at Arrain incredulously.
“A knife?” asked the professor.
“Yes sir, you may ask anyone that was present and they will tell you the same.”
“No, no.” said the professor, waving his hand dismissively. “You are all prefects and I trust you, besides I also have Aislin's word as an elf. Although I must say that this is very serious - a student carrying a knife with her on academy grounds.”
“And using it.” added Aisilin. “She used it on my cousins.”
The professor scrutinized the three of them for a long moment. “This is very serious indeed, its a good thing no one was hurt too badly.” he muttered, then eyed Varrin. “You have been silent for sometime master Varrin, is this what happened?”
Varrin felt three pairs of eyes upon him and his stomach curdled. “Yes, yes sir, saw it with my own eyes.”
I do actually have a progloue to this in which i show the past of one of the main characters in this chapter - Simariel.
Anyhow, i would appreciate it if you people could look over this and tell me if it was able to grab your attention/hook you and whether it was interesting or not. Grammar nitpicks are a bonus (There could be alot of them as i haven't really been paying attention to spellings/punctuation).
Thanks in advance!
CHAPTER 1
I have killed enough to know that the real enemy is not the one at the end of my blade but the one who told me to kill him.
Words written in blood, scrawled upon a piece of parchment that had slipped from between pages of a book. The book belonged to the new girl and she had dropped it when the bullies came to take her.
Newcomers were a rarity at the academy and breaking into the tightly knit community of elite students was a daunting task, one made impossible when the new girl had for some reason, chosen to foul mouth an elf. Now she found herself in the clutches of seniors, being led away for ridicule. No one would object of course, to offend one elf was to offend everybody else because simply put, everyone one loved the elves, even Varrin Ebonlocke, though maybe not all that much. Varrin was also a senior, however he was not a part of the posse, he was instead making use of the opportunity to shamelessly look through the girl's book.
But Varrin wasn't a thief or a snoop by nature, he was just a boy who had been intoxicated by an alluring curiosity ever since he had first laid his eyes upon the girl, or rather the first time she had laid her eyes upon him.
It had been in class earlier; he had caught her staring at him, but when their eyes had met, his own had been repelled almost instantly. It simply wasn't right; as far as Varrin could recall, the person to turn away, face burning with guilt, was supposed to be the person caught staring, not the other way around.
He had been too frightened to look at her after that but her strangely attractive, outlandish looks and quaint dress sense – both of which had been observed in that heart stopping fragment of a second – were more than enough to distract him for an eternity. Simariel, that was her name, different, but delightfully so to Varrin.
Laughter – the cruel sort – erupted from somewhere in the direction of the main grounds. A tinge of pity coated with guilt pricked Varrin and he closed the book. Absolved, he turned his attention to the strip of parchment, and flattening it against his knee, began to read it. He paused only a few words in, went back to the start and read it again, and then, again. Once more, much more slowly this time.
A high pitched scream shattered Varrin's dumbfounded expression and he looked up, startled. Voices cried out in alarm and then, anger. Something had gone wrong.
Footsteps, just about distinguishable over the din of rabble, someone was approaching. Fumbling with the parchment and his nerves, Varrin managed to clumsily cram the former in between the cover of the book before the person broke into the clearing.
Her hair -although short - was disheveled, her face; smudged with dirt and clothes; torn. Her eyes settled upon Varrin exactly as they had earlier that day – horribly expressionless and empty.
“You dropped it when they took you.” said Varrin at a loss for anything else to say. He extended the book timidly.
“I know.” replied Simariel in a whispering voice.
Silence.
Varrin's hand started to hurt, the book wasn't heavy, but the awkward position of his outstretched arm caused his muscles to groan in pain.
All of a sudden Simariel snatched the book, just as Varrin's arm began to tremble hurtfully. Opening it, she quickly flipped through the pages to make sure nothing had been taken. She reached the inside of the back cover and stopped.
Another long bout of silence, a stifling one this time; one that seemed to be waiting for a confession.
“I never touched or read anything I swear!” appealed Varrin. It was a stupid thing to say, the parchment was folded in a haphazard angle and its edges were sticking out of the book quite blatantly.
Simariel extended her stare, penetrating Varrin and ripping apart any scraps of self confidence and assurance that still flitted within him. And then, she was gone.
Nearly a full minute later, Varrin stumbled out of the clearing and onto the main lawn. His head was spinning and he realized that he had been holding his breathe for quite sometime. He was allowed a few gasps of cool air before he had to hold it again.
The grounds were in chaos. A large group of students had formed a large,confused circle by the buildings and others, mainly juniors, ran to and fro from the fountain to the circle carrying what seemed to be pieces of torn uniform soaked in water.
“Excuse me, sorry, excuse me. Move. Move, out of the way!” Varrin reached the congregation and pushed and pulled his way into the center clearing.
Three seniors sat on the ground, massaging various parts of their hurt bodies. But in the middle, sprawled upon the ground, covered in purple bruises and gashes that streamed with blood, were two elves.
Rajak and Nyssa mouthed Varrin as he knelt beside the elves. He knew their names, but then again, everyone knew all the elves' names. They seemed to have been beaten, and quite badly; their otherwise immaculate, fair faces, were blemished with scratches and scars.
“Here!” cried someone, thrusting a soaking piece of someone's shirt at Varrin. Following the example of others around him, Varrin began to gently swab away at the blood and dirt upon Nyssa's face and arms. As he did so, a deep, inexplicable sorrow filled him, one that almost had him upon the brink of tears. A timid look to the left and right revealed a similar feeling reflected in the faces of those around him; he was not alone in sorrow.
But Varrin lacked something that everyone around him felt – anger. For they were full of hatred toward the person who had done such a terrible thing to the elves, and they knew who it was, even Varrin knew who it was even though he hadn't seen what had happened, yet he felt no anger, only awe and wonder.
“What happened here?” a clear voice cut above the rabble; a professor had arrived on the scene. “Joel Sillard, go fetch the nurse. You, you and you, get those boys inside!”
“Come one!” said someone, grabbing Varrin by the arm.
“Arrain, what?” cried Varrin, recognizing his brother.
“Professor Remulin needs to know what happened, come on!”
“But I didn't see what happened! Arrain stop!” protested Varrin as his brother continued to pull him onward.
“Doesn't matter.”
“Doesn't matter? But I don't know what happened!”
Deaf to Varrin's protests, Arrain craned his neck, looking through the crowd. He spotted what he was searching for and plunged forward, Varrin in tow. “Aslin!” yelled Arrain, lifting a hand and motioning to an elf. “Over here! Aslin!”
Aslin; tall, handsome and graceful as all elves were, weaved toward and joined the two brothers. Varrin immediately stopped his protests; Aslin's presence was comforting and he would speak the truth. It was not that Varrin didn't trust his brother, he was just a little afraid that Arrain might exaggerate the story – whatever it may be.
“Alright come on.”
“Prefects! Are there any prefects here?” cried professor Remulin.
“Right here sir.” replied Arrain.
“Good.” said the professor, running his eyes upon Aslin, Arrain and Varrin. “Whats the matter with you Varrin, sick? No? Alright, come on then, lets go inside while the nurses take care of this.” He turned to the crowd of students. “To your classes everyone, it warms me to see that you are concerned but everything will be taken care off.”
The four of them climbed the steps to the main building and entered a quiet corridor. “Alright boys, Asilin, tell me what went on and hurry please, there are six new students coming in tomorrow, very important ones, and I have a lot of work ahead of me.”
“It was the new girl sir.”
The professor thought for a moment. “Simariel isn't it?”
“I think so sir.”
“It is.” said Varrin, a little loudly. He looked down and made to straighten out the hems of his breeches, trying to avoid Arrain's narrowed eyes and conceal his own embarrassment.
“Were you lot giving her trouble?” asked Remulin.
“If we were, would that justify what she did sir?” replied Arrain.
“No, it wouldn't, but I need to know. And watch your tone Arrain.”
“I'm sorry sir.” said Arrain, he paused while Remulin gave him a quick nod, then continued. “It was the same girl who bad mouthed Jarod earlier sir, for no reason at all, right after class. She...”
Remulin raised his hand, silencing Arrain. “I do not want to know of her whole past Arrain, tell me what happened upon the field, thats all.”
“If I may sir?” asked Asilin, stepping forward.
“Of course Aislin, please go ahead.”
“As my friend Arrain said sir, the girl bad mouthed Jarod earlier for apparently no reason. She berated him as soon as our history class ended and well...”
“We, the seniors, thought that she needed a little lesson in manners.” interrupted Arrain, finishing Asilin's sentence for him.
“I ask that you do not interrupt Arrain.” said the professor in a stern manner. “Ah, well go on then master Ebonlocke.”
Arrain nodded. “It was nothing serious sir, harmless, all done in good nature of course...”
“What did you do to her Arrain?” cut in the professor.
“Just a little name calling sir, ragging; to teach her some manners.”
“And?”
“She pulled a knife on us sir, from the pockets of her breeches.”
Varrin looked at Arrain incredulously.
“A knife?” asked the professor.
“Yes sir, you may ask anyone that was present and they will tell you the same.”
“No, no.” said the professor, waving his hand dismissively. “You are all prefects and I trust you, besides I also have Aislin's word as an elf. Although I must say that this is very serious - a student carrying a knife with her on academy grounds.”
“And using it.” added Aisilin. “She used it on my cousins.”
The professor scrutinized the three of them for a long moment. “This is very serious indeed, its a good thing no one was hurt too badly.” he muttered, then eyed Varrin. “You have been silent for sometime master Varrin, is this what happened?”
Varrin felt three pairs of eyes upon him and his stomach curdled. “Yes, yes sir, saw it with my own eyes.”
