DaCosta
Habitual Daydreamer
- Joined
- Aug 19, 2013
- Messages
- 277
This was the project I began committing to e-paper last night (the one MS Word gobbled up). After Word ate it, I had to rewrite it again. Besides that hiccup, I had a fab time getting the words down and wondered what you guys thought of it.
This is very different from my current WIP. It has a faster pace and should be a light enjoyable read. It's at the first draft stage, so basically a splurge of ideas that will need drilling down later on.
I'm looking for your opinions on:
Voice - whether the female MC is interesting enough to carry a story.
First person - it's been a long time since I've written in 1st person so I'm not sure if I've got the tone right.
How does it work as an opener? - I've tried to avoid the infobump scenario.
Audience - What type of audience would read this?
Any and all comments welcome.
~~~
Fate walked into my workshop that evening. Ankle length red leather coat, platinum hair, timberland boots, he was like something out of a graphic novel and if the goosebumps shivering across my skin were anything to go by he clearly wasn't as human as his anime-inspired appearance would have me believe.
At first I ignored him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me hesitate. I’d be damned if I was going to drop everything just because he’d helped himself into my person space. So I continued to work on the blade resting on the anvil before me. I hammered out the imperfections in the surface, metal singing with each blow. Behind me the forge blazed, waves of heat rolling over me. I told myself it was the heat that sprinkled perspiration across my face and back, but in truth it was fear.
Picking up the blade with gloved hands I turned and plunged the metal into the molten coals, before turning to face my uninvited guest. He’d given himself the tour of my small workshop, admiring the various swords on display, some unfinished, some as close to art as I was ever going to get.
“Well?” I asked, managing to inject some genuine irritation in my words in the hope it hid the anxiety building inside me.
“Impressive.”
He turned icy blue eyes on me and smiled a killer smile. If he thought I was going to gush and swoon he was in for a shock. “Who are you and what the hell do you want?” I demanded.
“You’re Muse, right?” He gestured at the cramped workshop. “I was expecting something... else.”
I hadn’t heard that name in years. A tag left over from darker days, ones I didn’t wish to revisit.
He reached inside his leather coat. I tensed as I noticed the glint of a custom handgun, the pearl grip engraved with what looked like entwined scorpions but it wasn’t the gun he reached for. He withdrew a short sword and rested it on the anvil in front of me. “I want you to read this.”
Tugging off a glove I skipped my fingertips over the rippled surface of the blade. The metal burned cold against my brazen touch, as though the sword resented my presence. It was a wonderful piece of workmanship, the tempered edge sharp enough to slice through flesh and bone with little effort. An intricate hand-forged guard and leather-woven hilt betrayed the sword as functional but with a flair for the dramatic and yet it was clearly a weapon meant for combat, not ceremony.
A thin snap of power danced up my fingers and with a small hiss I drew my hand back and looked up at my intriguing visitor. “What’s in it for me?”
“What do you want?” he asked.
Now there was a loaded question. With no idea who or what he was I had no notion of what he could potentially afford or the stakes involved. “It depends on what I’m going to find. If this blade as seen murder then I want danger money. If it’s just a lovers tiff you’re interested in, then a few hundred should do it.”
“Or I could walk out of here now and tell the world where you are. I know there are a few unsavouries from your chequered past who would be very grateful for the heads-up on your whereabouts.”
He just had to, didn’t he. I smiled, it was the first smile I’d given him since his arrival. “Now, there, you see. We were having a civilised conversation and you just had to go and spoil it by threatening me.”
“Why don’t you just read the blade and I can leave you to get on with your...” he cast a shallow glance about him. “...work?”
And now he’d insulted me. “I’m not telling you anything until you give me more to go on.” Who did he think he was talking to? Some back alley halfwit that would fall over their own feet to do his bidding. He might know my name but he didn’t know me.
He blinked, my retort stalling him, before he turned on the charm once more. “You’re right. I’m sorry. A few hundred was it?” He dug deep into his coat pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. Without counting it, he tossed it onto the anvil. “That should cover it.”
I tugged my glove back on, pinching the heatproof fabric between each finger. “I think you should leave.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Just read the sword, Muse.”
I never did get on well with assholes. “Get out.”
I just couldn’t leave well alone, could I. If I had let him have his way, just read the damn blade and been done with it I might never have seen him again. But no, I just had to dig my heels in.
He pulled the gun on me, finger resting firmly on the trigger. “You will do this for me.”
“Go back to hell,” I sneered before reaching around and snatching the blade from the forge, flinging the molten blade and hot coals at him. He recoiled, cursing as the coals bounced off his coat. I didn’t hesitate and dashed for the doors, my hand on the handle to tug them open when he slammed me against the door, knocking the wind out of me.
He thrust the gun under my chin. “Why do you have to be so difficult?”
I really didn’t want this to escalate. Bad **** happens when she comes out to play. The darkness resting at my core began to unfurl, opening like the petals of a flower, but its intent was far from delicate. The touch of it spilt into muscle, flooding a welcome heat through my body. The magic embraced me, as it always does, the lure of chaos undeniable.
He released me and took a few steps back, gun up.
I turned, magic dripping from my fingertips. I couldn’t see it, my human half blind to the energy, but he could. His arctic eyes blaze with the promise of conflict.
He laughed then lowered the gun and tucked it back into the holster inside his coat. “You’re right. This isn’t worth it.” Hands up, as if in surrender, he turned and retrieved the sword in question before weaving his way back around the workbenches towards me.
“I’ll leave you in peace.”
“What?”
“Step aside. I’m leaving.”
I did as asked and watched him slide the door open and pass through. Confused and somewhat disappointed I followed him out into the alley. The magic he’d aroused now began to fizzle out, it’s departure leaving me with a sickly chill and bitter sense of loss.
He climbed into the drivers side of a crimson Dodge Charger. I had no idea who he was, where he’d come from, how he’d found me or what lay hidden in that damn sword and he was leaving. That couldn’t be right? Didn’t I deserve some sort of explanation here?
“Hey!” I called, venturing further into the street.
Headlights bathed me in twin beams, forcing me to shield my eyes. He gunned the engine, jammed the box into reverse and swung the car back into a J-turn before speeding off, fat tyres squealing on wet tarmac.
I stood there, hand on hip, head tilted to one side when the shockwave hit me. I didn’t so much hear the blast as feel the explosion lash across my back. I must have briefly lost consciousness but the furious pain riding my back soon summoned me from the depths. A whine drilled into my skull, various alarms sounding from the industrial units around me.
I turned my head towards the heat, grit digging into my cheek as I peered into the rolling smoke at the hollow spot between two industrial units.
My workshop had gone and with it my attempt at a normal life.
~~~
This is very different from my current WIP. It has a faster pace and should be a light enjoyable read. It's at the first draft stage, so basically a splurge of ideas that will need drilling down later on.
I'm looking for your opinions on:
Voice - whether the female MC is interesting enough to carry a story.
First person - it's been a long time since I've written in 1st person so I'm not sure if I've got the tone right.
How does it work as an opener? - I've tried to avoid the infobump scenario.
Audience - What type of audience would read this?
Any and all comments welcome.
~~~
Fate walked into my workshop that evening. Ankle length red leather coat, platinum hair, timberland boots, he was like something out of a graphic novel and if the goosebumps shivering across my skin were anything to go by he clearly wasn't as human as his anime-inspired appearance would have me believe.
At first I ignored him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me hesitate. I’d be damned if I was going to drop everything just because he’d helped himself into my person space. So I continued to work on the blade resting on the anvil before me. I hammered out the imperfections in the surface, metal singing with each blow. Behind me the forge blazed, waves of heat rolling over me. I told myself it was the heat that sprinkled perspiration across my face and back, but in truth it was fear.
Picking up the blade with gloved hands I turned and plunged the metal into the molten coals, before turning to face my uninvited guest. He’d given himself the tour of my small workshop, admiring the various swords on display, some unfinished, some as close to art as I was ever going to get.
“Well?” I asked, managing to inject some genuine irritation in my words in the hope it hid the anxiety building inside me.
“Impressive.”
He turned icy blue eyes on me and smiled a killer smile. If he thought I was going to gush and swoon he was in for a shock. “Who are you and what the hell do you want?” I demanded.
“You’re Muse, right?” He gestured at the cramped workshop. “I was expecting something... else.”
I hadn’t heard that name in years. A tag left over from darker days, ones I didn’t wish to revisit.
He reached inside his leather coat. I tensed as I noticed the glint of a custom handgun, the pearl grip engraved with what looked like entwined scorpions but it wasn’t the gun he reached for. He withdrew a short sword and rested it on the anvil in front of me. “I want you to read this.”
Tugging off a glove I skipped my fingertips over the rippled surface of the blade. The metal burned cold against my brazen touch, as though the sword resented my presence. It was a wonderful piece of workmanship, the tempered edge sharp enough to slice through flesh and bone with little effort. An intricate hand-forged guard and leather-woven hilt betrayed the sword as functional but with a flair for the dramatic and yet it was clearly a weapon meant for combat, not ceremony.
A thin snap of power danced up my fingers and with a small hiss I drew my hand back and looked up at my intriguing visitor. “What’s in it for me?”
“What do you want?” he asked.
Now there was a loaded question. With no idea who or what he was I had no notion of what he could potentially afford or the stakes involved. “It depends on what I’m going to find. If this blade as seen murder then I want danger money. If it’s just a lovers tiff you’re interested in, then a few hundred should do it.”
“Or I could walk out of here now and tell the world where you are. I know there are a few unsavouries from your chequered past who would be very grateful for the heads-up on your whereabouts.”
He just had to, didn’t he. I smiled, it was the first smile I’d given him since his arrival. “Now, there, you see. We were having a civilised conversation and you just had to go and spoil it by threatening me.”
“Why don’t you just read the blade and I can leave you to get on with your...” he cast a shallow glance about him. “...work?”
And now he’d insulted me. “I’m not telling you anything until you give me more to go on.” Who did he think he was talking to? Some back alley halfwit that would fall over their own feet to do his bidding. He might know my name but he didn’t know me.
He blinked, my retort stalling him, before he turned on the charm once more. “You’re right. I’m sorry. A few hundred was it?” He dug deep into his coat pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. Without counting it, he tossed it onto the anvil. “That should cover it.”
I tugged my glove back on, pinching the heatproof fabric between each finger. “I think you should leave.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Just read the sword, Muse.”
I never did get on well with assholes. “Get out.”
I just couldn’t leave well alone, could I. If I had let him have his way, just read the damn blade and been done with it I might never have seen him again. But no, I just had to dig my heels in.
He pulled the gun on me, finger resting firmly on the trigger. “You will do this for me.”
“Go back to hell,” I sneered before reaching around and snatching the blade from the forge, flinging the molten blade and hot coals at him. He recoiled, cursing as the coals bounced off his coat. I didn’t hesitate and dashed for the doors, my hand on the handle to tug them open when he slammed me against the door, knocking the wind out of me.
He thrust the gun under my chin. “Why do you have to be so difficult?”
I really didn’t want this to escalate. Bad **** happens when she comes out to play. The darkness resting at my core began to unfurl, opening like the petals of a flower, but its intent was far from delicate. The touch of it spilt into muscle, flooding a welcome heat through my body. The magic embraced me, as it always does, the lure of chaos undeniable.
He released me and took a few steps back, gun up.
I turned, magic dripping from my fingertips. I couldn’t see it, my human half blind to the energy, but he could. His arctic eyes blaze with the promise of conflict.
He laughed then lowered the gun and tucked it back into the holster inside his coat. “You’re right. This isn’t worth it.” Hands up, as if in surrender, he turned and retrieved the sword in question before weaving his way back around the workbenches towards me.
“I’ll leave you in peace.”
“What?”
“Step aside. I’m leaving.”
I did as asked and watched him slide the door open and pass through. Confused and somewhat disappointed I followed him out into the alley. The magic he’d aroused now began to fizzle out, it’s departure leaving me with a sickly chill and bitter sense of loss.
He climbed into the drivers side of a crimson Dodge Charger. I had no idea who he was, where he’d come from, how he’d found me or what lay hidden in that damn sword and he was leaving. That couldn’t be right? Didn’t I deserve some sort of explanation here?
“Hey!” I called, venturing further into the street.
Headlights bathed me in twin beams, forcing me to shield my eyes. He gunned the engine, jammed the box into reverse and swung the car back into a J-turn before speeding off, fat tyres squealing on wet tarmac.
I stood there, hand on hip, head tilted to one side when the shockwave hit me. I didn’t so much hear the blast as feel the explosion lash across my back. I must have briefly lost consciousness but the furious pain riding my back soon summoned me from the depths. A whine drilled into my skull, various alarms sounding from the industrial units around me.
I turned my head towards the heat, grit digging into my cheek as I peered into the rolling smoke at the hollow spot between two industrial units.
My workshop had gone and with it my attempt at a normal life.
~~~
