anthorn
Well-Known Member
What tense sounds better for the scene? It's third person past and third person present. I chose present tense because of the need for urgency and the fact iu wanted to hide the thoughts of the main character. I wanted the other main character to question if he is corrupt or not, and there to be a doubt about it through out the novel until the reveal. It could feasibly work in third person too. And I thought about having the other POV in 1st person.
This rain will drown me if I’m not careful, Anthorn thought as he stepped from the carriage, tapping the side of it with the back of his hand so the driver knew to wait. He’d prepared well for it, dressed himself in an overcoat that kissed the knees, a bowler hat, and leather riding gloves, but still the rain seemed to soak him to the bone. He hoped the shop would still allow him to return the rental. Should’ve checked the fine print. I probably bought it as soon as I stepped outside in the rain.
He slowly made his way toward where the body had been discovered, taking in the surrounding area without making it seem obvious. The docks were abandoned save for the Watchmen combing the cobbled stones for any sign of a clue, the few onlookers who’d left their homes when the bell sounded. Anthorn sighed, feeling the familiar stab of pain in his knee and leg as he approached the river’s edge. “Good evening,” he said, stepping carefully down the steps, silently thankful that someone had seen to provide a lamp for the occasion.
“You’re late,” Colt replied. He was dressed in the old City Watch uniform of a green waist length coat, the old badge still visible on his lapel. Like always he was nursing his right hand and the stub where his thumb had been until an ‘animal’ had bit it off. “Where were you?”
“I had some…things I had to take care of,” he said, looking to a point just across the river where the shadows seemed to dance beneath distant lamplight. Thunder rolled overhead. “But I see you coped well in my absence.”
“I much prefer that you are here,” Colt said. “I have no idea what I am doing.”
Anthorn chuckled slightly. “And you think I do? I’m flying blind just like you.” Despite doing this for five years the whole thing felt like a new experience. He wondered why he’d ever agreed to help the Governor bring the various districts of City Watchmen into an organised group, until he saw the body. Then the reason became all too apparent.
The girl was dead for sure. She was naked with her face turned slightly toward him, eyes wide open and almost accusing in appearance. Anthorn crouched down beside her, ignoring the pain blossoming in his knee and hip. He’d only seen her in portraits and photo images but it was her: Jaen Iroko, the daughter of Kaladin Iroko of Iroko motors. “It’s her,” he said weakly, pulling at the collar pasted to his neck from the rain. “Who found her?”
“Some guy. Questioned him for a bit then let him go. We think she was killed here and placed in the tarp to keep her hidden for long as possible. Don’t think the killer expected her to be found so quickly.”
Or maybe they did. “She wasn’t killed here,” he said. “She was placed here and killed somewhere else. There’s no blood. Rain or not there would’ve been blood underneath her. The blood wouldn’t have been able to dry like it did in this weather.” I wish I could question that ‘some guy.’ Damn. He’s probably hiding now. “Any other witnesses questioned?”
“None that have come forward. The people you see up there now are just curious onlookers.” Colt looked up at the sky. “We should take the body to the Doctor, get her out of this weather.”
There was bruising all over her body, around the legs, arms, and waist particularly. There was a cut making its way from collar to navel and he could tell it was superficial even without pressing his fingers to it. Almost as though someone wants us to think there’s a connection to other murders of other young girls. The killing wound had been a single puncture wound to the neck. Something was wrong here. Something was wrong and he couldn’t quite place his finger on it. “Someone should tell the parents,” he said, rising painfully. “They need to know.”
Thunder rolled overhead once again.
How easy would it be to drown in this rain? Anthorn thinks, one hand adjusting his rented bowler hat while his other taps the side of the carriage, letting the driver know he’s to wait. He’s dressed appropriately-this time-in a black overcoat that kissed the knees, leather gloves and heavy boots, but these clothes are on hire and he doubts they’ll return his deposit now. I probably bought the suit as soon as it started to rain.
He walks toward the steps leading down to the riverside and notes the scene as he passes. Somebody-most likely a night watchman-has cordoned off the area with tape and huge wood crates behind which a crowd has gathered. The crowd is a mixture of shapes, sizes, faces, and fashion. He knows there is likely a few ladies of wealth there because they were most likely the ones beneath the parasols. Just another day out in the park for them, he thinks sourly. He turns his attention next to the City Watch. There are five of them, all dressed in the same grass green jackets and sea blue trousers, all moving with careful attention given to the ground at their feet, all pointedly ignoring him. Which is probably just as well.
Anthorn feels his knee wobble as he descends, the familiar stabbing of pain that welcomes him with any kind of cold weather. Though he wants to scream in agony he ignores it and fixes his gaze on the body and the man standing over it. Thunder breaks the monotonous pitta patter of the rain. The light cast from the oil lamp hooked to a hastily hammered spike flickers as the flame sizzles and hisses.
“You’re late,” Colt says accusingly, looking at him with eyes the colour of bird sh*t. There is a scar across his chin and Anthorn notices he’s cradling the stump where his left thumb used to be. He looks soaked to bone and none too pleased about it. “Where were you?”
“I have some things I needed to take care of,” he replies looking off to the distance. The sky lights up and thunder follows. “I see you managed well enough without me though.”
Colt grunts and gestures to the body at his feet. “I have no idea what I am doing,” he says. “So I’m sure as hell glad you came.”
Anthorn wonders at that. “Are you? What makes you think I know what I’m doing?” He says it as a joke but it might as well be true. Until five years ago the city watch had worked as several separate entities and the old ways die hard. Though the Governor has given his express writ that they work as one unit, a lot of Watchmen refused to change with the times. They refused to understand that this change was good and that they could make the city streets safer than before. Sometimes Anthorn wonders why he took the job as the new department head, but then he looks down at the body at his feet and he remembers.
The girl is dead for sure. She is lying naked on her back with her face turned slightly toward him. He notes the colour of her eyes-blue-and the colour of her hair-blond-almost immediately. She is young, probably early twenties. “She looks familiar,” he says, crouching down beside her. The pain in his knee and hip is excruciating and he does his best to ignore it though he cannot hide the glimmer of pain showing on his face. Usually he would check the pockets for identification but as the girl is naked this isn’t an option. “Who is she?”
“Her name is Jaen Iroko.”
“Iroko? As in Iroko motor industries? This is their daughter?”
Colt snaps his fingers. “The very same. Their only child too.”
sh*t, he thinks. “Who found her?”
“Some…fisherman. I questioned him and then promised we wouldn’t report him for illegal fishing. I think the killer might have done the deed here and placed her within the tarp because he didn’t count on the body being discovered so soon.”
Or maybe they did, he thinks. “She wasn’t killed here. She was placed here and killed somewhere else. There’s no blood. Rain or not there would’ve been blood underneath her. The blood wouldn’t have been able to dry like it did in this weather.” I wish I could question that ‘some guy.’ Damn. He’s probably hiding now. “Any other witnesses questioned?”
“None that have come forward. The people you see up there now are just curious onlookers.” Colt looks up at the sky. “We should take the body to the Doctor, get her out of this weather.”
Anthorn continues to inspect the body. There is bruising around the waist but the majority were around the arms and legs. He presses his fingers to the cut reaching from collar to navel and gently slips a finger under the fold. Superficial, he notes. Not like the others. Was the killer distracted? Did someone stumble upon the scene before he was finished and force him to quick abandon the body? Is the killer even a man? Upon her neck is a single puncture mark no bigger than a needle. Something is wrong. Something is wrong here and he can’t quite figure it out. “Has anyone informed the parents?” he asks, pursing his lips and tapping his finger to the side of his unshaved cheek.
This rain will drown me if I’m not careful, Anthorn thought as he stepped from the carriage, tapping the side of it with the back of his hand so the driver knew to wait. He’d prepared well for it, dressed himself in an overcoat that kissed the knees, a bowler hat, and leather riding gloves, but still the rain seemed to soak him to the bone. He hoped the shop would still allow him to return the rental. Should’ve checked the fine print. I probably bought it as soon as I stepped outside in the rain.
He slowly made his way toward where the body had been discovered, taking in the surrounding area without making it seem obvious. The docks were abandoned save for the Watchmen combing the cobbled stones for any sign of a clue, the few onlookers who’d left their homes when the bell sounded. Anthorn sighed, feeling the familiar stab of pain in his knee and leg as he approached the river’s edge. “Good evening,” he said, stepping carefully down the steps, silently thankful that someone had seen to provide a lamp for the occasion.
“You’re late,” Colt replied. He was dressed in the old City Watch uniform of a green waist length coat, the old badge still visible on his lapel. Like always he was nursing his right hand and the stub where his thumb had been until an ‘animal’ had bit it off. “Where were you?”
“I had some…things I had to take care of,” he said, looking to a point just across the river where the shadows seemed to dance beneath distant lamplight. Thunder rolled overhead. “But I see you coped well in my absence.”
“I much prefer that you are here,” Colt said. “I have no idea what I am doing.”
Anthorn chuckled slightly. “And you think I do? I’m flying blind just like you.” Despite doing this for five years the whole thing felt like a new experience. He wondered why he’d ever agreed to help the Governor bring the various districts of City Watchmen into an organised group, until he saw the body. Then the reason became all too apparent.
The girl was dead for sure. She was naked with her face turned slightly toward him, eyes wide open and almost accusing in appearance. Anthorn crouched down beside her, ignoring the pain blossoming in his knee and hip. He’d only seen her in portraits and photo images but it was her: Jaen Iroko, the daughter of Kaladin Iroko of Iroko motors. “It’s her,” he said weakly, pulling at the collar pasted to his neck from the rain. “Who found her?”
“Some guy. Questioned him for a bit then let him go. We think she was killed here and placed in the tarp to keep her hidden for long as possible. Don’t think the killer expected her to be found so quickly.”
Or maybe they did. “She wasn’t killed here,” he said. “She was placed here and killed somewhere else. There’s no blood. Rain or not there would’ve been blood underneath her. The blood wouldn’t have been able to dry like it did in this weather.” I wish I could question that ‘some guy.’ Damn. He’s probably hiding now. “Any other witnesses questioned?”
“None that have come forward. The people you see up there now are just curious onlookers.” Colt looked up at the sky. “We should take the body to the Doctor, get her out of this weather.”
There was bruising all over her body, around the legs, arms, and waist particularly. There was a cut making its way from collar to navel and he could tell it was superficial even without pressing his fingers to it. Almost as though someone wants us to think there’s a connection to other murders of other young girls. The killing wound had been a single puncture wound to the neck. Something was wrong here. Something was wrong and he couldn’t quite place his finger on it. “Someone should tell the parents,” he said, rising painfully. “They need to know.”
Thunder rolled overhead once again.
How easy would it be to drown in this rain? Anthorn thinks, one hand adjusting his rented bowler hat while his other taps the side of the carriage, letting the driver know he’s to wait. He’s dressed appropriately-this time-in a black overcoat that kissed the knees, leather gloves and heavy boots, but these clothes are on hire and he doubts they’ll return his deposit now. I probably bought the suit as soon as it started to rain.
He walks toward the steps leading down to the riverside and notes the scene as he passes. Somebody-most likely a night watchman-has cordoned off the area with tape and huge wood crates behind which a crowd has gathered. The crowd is a mixture of shapes, sizes, faces, and fashion. He knows there is likely a few ladies of wealth there because they were most likely the ones beneath the parasols. Just another day out in the park for them, he thinks sourly. He turns his attention next to the City Watch. There are five of them, all dressed in the same grass green jackets and sea blue trousers, all moving with careful attention given to the ground at their feet, all pointedly ignoring him. Which is probably just as well.
Anthorn feels his knee wobble as he descends, the familiar stabbing of pain that welcomes him with any kind of cold weather. Though he wants to scream in agony he ignores it and fixes his gaze on the body and the man standing over it. Thunder breaks the monotonous pitta patter of the rain. The light cast from the oil lamp hooked to a hastily hammered spike flickers as the flame sizzles and hisses.
“You’re late,” Colt says accusingly, looking at him with eyes the colour of bird sh*t. There is a scar across his chin and Anthorn notices he’s cradling the stump where his left thumb used to be. He looks soaked to bone and none too pleased about it. “Where were you?”
“I have some things I needed to take care of,” he replies looking off to the distance. The sky lights up and thunder follows. “I see you managed well enough without me though.”
Colt grunts and gestures to the body at his feet. “I have no idea what I am doing,” he says. “So I’m sure as hell glad you came.”
Anthorn wonders at that. “Are you? What makes you think I know what I’m doing?” He says it as a joke but it might as well be true. Until five years ago the city watch had worked as several separate entities and the old ways die hard. Though the Governor has given his express writ that they work as one unit, a lot of Watchmen refused to change with the times. They refused to understand that this change was good and that they could make the city streets safer than before. Sometimes Anthorn wonders why he took the job as the new department head, but then he looks down at the body at his feet and he remembers.
The girl is dead for sure. She is lying naked on her back with her face turned slightly toward him. He notes the colour of her eyes-blue-and the colour of her hair-blond-almost immediately. She is young, probably early twenties. “She looks familiar,” he says, crouching down beside her. The pain in his knee and hip is excruciating and he does his best to ignore it though he cannot hide the glimmer of pain showing on his face. Usually he would check the pockets for identification but as the girl is naked this isn’t an option. “Who is she?”
“Her name is Jaen Iroko.”
“Iroko? As in Iroko motor industries? This is their daughter?”
Colt snaps his fingers. “The very same. Their only child too.”
sh*t, he thinks. “Who found her?”
“Some…fisherman. I questioned him and then promised we wouldn’t report him for illegal fishing. I think the killer might have done the deed here and placed her within the tarp because he didn’t count on the body being discovered so soon.”
Or maybe they did, he thinks. “She wasn’t killed here. She was placed here and killed somewhere else. There’s no blood. Rain or not there would’ve been blood underneath her. The blood wouldn’t have been able to dry like it did in this weather.” I wish I could question that ‘some guy.’ Damn. He’s probably hiding now. “Any other witnesses questioned?”
“None that have come forward. The people you see up there now are just curious onlookers.” Colt looks up at the sky. “We should take the body to the Doctor, get her out of this weather.”
Anthorn continues to inspect the body. There is bruising around the waist but the majority were around the arms and legs. He presses his fingers to the cut reaching from collar to navel and gently slips a finger under the fold. Superficial, he notes. Not like the others. Was the killer distracted? Did someone stumble upon the scene before he was finished and force him to quick abandon the body? Is the killer even a man? Upon her neck is a single puncture mark no bigger than a needle. Something is wrong. Something is wrong here and he can’t quite figure it out. “Has anyone informed the parents?” he asks, pursing his lips and tapping his finger to the side of his unshaved cheek.
