Hello, and good morning/afternoon/evening/night. How is everyone? I'm sorry
to hear that/good! Like that line? I stole it from somebody. It was too
good of an opportunity to miss! I just want to tell you something. I will
no longer be able to put up chapters as long as lately. My teacher assigned
a creative writing assignment. If I am going to do a half decent job I have
to concentrate on that, since I got a really good idea. But for now, let
the games begin!!
I walk over to the fluffy square. There's my flute on it from last night. I sit down and pick it up. I might as well practice it. I lift it up, out my mouth above the hole, and blow. I play a slow scale, making sure of every note before going to the next. By the time I get to the top not all my senses are relaxing to the familiar hum of an instrument. I go back down just as slowly, nearly smiling at the sweet memories that come with the flute. I can still remember the day we got our first weapons. We'd been training for weeks, one week with each weapon. He programmed into us the perfect swing for on ax, the best grip on a sword. The smoothest way to throw a dagger, the basic functions of a flute. He'd said he was evaluating our natural potential for each weapon, so as to hone our abilities at the place they'll be most useful. Even then we had to learn basic skills for all possible weapons. I know the grip the knights here use on their swords, and the flaws in it. I know how to use any item to cast a spell on an opponent, though only in the most raw forms. The first weapons we used were rods, nothing fancy about them. I tolerated them lightly, not really enjoying it. The second was a sword each. I was better with that, though not enough to get fancy. The fourth a staff for mages. I remember Catalina reaching for that, how she performed some of her spells with medium difficulty instead of using all her strength on fire. We were very young at the time, and fooled around on the occasion. I remember the exact look on my face when I first picked up my next weapon. I was unable to swallow any jerky for hours, as he insisted on us eating with those three-pronged monstrosities. Next came spears, trimmed down to our heights, I did fairly well with mine. Catalina came very close to gutting herself. Wait, never mind. She did gut herself. Next came claws. Catalina did quite well with those, using them like a cat would. I prefer not to remember how I did. Then came daggers. I still remember the day I saw them, two for each of us. They fit snugly in my hands, wicked points capable of drawing blood. They seemed to sing as I held them, and I did unusually well that week. Throwing them seemed a nature known from birth, as was stabbing the points into an enemy from behind. Catalina wasn't a natural, but neither was she a lion- mouthed sissy. I nearly cried when I had to give them up, and having the next weapon, a flute, didn't raise my spirits. Catalina, on the other hand, seemed to glow whenever we learned a simple spell. At the end of that week he said we'd stick with the weapons we were best with, and learn all the others just as well when we were older. I got my weapons that year, seven years ago. I come back out of the memory with calm in my heart as I stop playing, and drink some water. I look down at the knights once more; they also seem more relaxed, as if someone who knows an instrument can't be all bad. I know better. Lessons long ago have prepared me for anything, and I hardly look up at a clank over my head. No doubt they're opening the trapdoor, and I shall soon be in another session with the royalty clique. I shall have to struggle just as much as yesterday, use years of lessons to hide my real emotions and show ones I don't feel. I remain sitting as they pull the trapdoor closed, with the exception of my head. After a few quick glances I can tell it's the same room as yesterday, with one difference. Somebody new is here, with the body of a burmecian. It looks very similar to the dead one Uncle had us examine. That must be Freya Crescent, renowned dragon knight and protector of the world. They unlock the cage same as yesterday, and go to sit down. This time there is an extra seat for the knight, and the same empty one for me. The king again makes his offer for me to come sit down; again I refuse to acknowledge him. This time, however, the script I had planned to follow falls to pieces as the king says, "I really wish you would trust us Clara. We just want to know why you murdered those people. We aren't going to hurt you in any way. I, for one, am curious. Why would you want to kill someone? Did someone threaten you, say you had to? If so, you can tell us. They'll never know, so stop looking as if you'll die if you make one wrong move." This last statement startles me out of acting, and I jerk upright. How can they tell I'm afraid? I recover in a millisecond, my mask slipping back in place. He sighs. "Neeeever mind. Anyway, this is Freya Crescent. She's our resident Burmecian." "Call me Freya," Says the dragon knight. "I have been told about that language of yours, and was intrigued. I studied many languages in training to be a Dragon Knight, and yours sounds like none ever heard. I wish to learn it, if you will teach me." I look at the cage floor, lost for words. I am faced with a tricky question here. If I refuse I shall have to give a valid reason why, but I would face a great risk of her translating everything I say to them if I do. I come to a quick decision after some debate.
What is her decision? I can't decide. Until I get reviews on what people want next I won't be able to put up my next chapter. Having Freya learn it. or not learn it. could change the outcome of the story, along with how good each chapter is. So vote! I run a democracy here!
I walk over to the fluffy square. There's my flute on it from last night. I sit down and pick it up. I might as well practice it. I lift it up, out my mouth above the hole, and blow. I play a slow scale, making sure of every note before going to the next. By the time I get to the top not all my senses are relaxing to the familiar hum of an instrument. I go back down just as slowly, nearly smiling at the sweet memories that come with the flute. I can still remember the day we got our first weapons. We'd been training for weeks, one week with each weapon. He programmed into us the perfect swing for on ax, the best grip on a sword. The smoothest way to throw a dagger, the basic functions of a flute. He'd said he was evaluating our natural potential for each weapon, so as to hone our abilities at the place they'll be most useful. Even then we had to learn basic skills for all possible weapons. I know the grip the knights here use on their swords, and the flaws in it. I know how to use any item to cast a spell on an opponent, though only in the most raw forms. The first weapons we used were rods, nothing fancy about them. I tolerated them lightly, not really enjoying it. The second was a sword each. I was better with that, though not enough to get fancy. The fourth a staff for mages. I remember Catalina reaching for that, how she performed some of her spells with medium difficulty instead of using all her strength on fire. We were very young at the time, and fooled around on the occasion. I remember the exact look on my face when I first picked up my next weapon. I was unable to swallow any jerky for hours, as he insisted on us eating with those three-pronged monstrosities. Next came spears, trimmed down to our heights, I did fairly well with mine. Catalina came very close to gutting herself. Wait, never mind. She did gut herself. Next came claws. Catalina did quite well with those, using them like a cat would. I prefer not to remember how I did. Then came daggers. I still remember the day I saw them, two for each of us. They fit snugly in my hands, wicked points capable of drawing blood. They seemed to sing as I held them, and I did unusually well that week. Throwing them seemed a nature known from birth, as was stabbing the points into an enemy from behind. Catalina wasn't a natural, but neither was she a lion- mouthed sissy. I nearly cried when I had to give them up, and having the next weapon, a flute, didn't raise my spirits. Catalina, on the other hand, seemed to glow whenever we learned a simple spell. At the end of that week he said we'd stick with the weapons we were best with, and learn all the others just as well when we were older. I got my weapons that year, seven years ago. I come back out of the memory with calm in my heart as I stop playing, and drink some water. I look down at the knights once more; they also seem more relaxed, as if someone who knows an instrument can't be all bad. I know better. Lessons long ago have prepared me for anything, and I hardly look up at a clank over my head. No doubt they're opening the trapdoor, and I shall soon be in another session with the royalty clique. I shall have to struggle just as much as yesterday, use years of lessons to hide my real emotions and show ones I don't feel. I remain sitting as they pull the trapdoor closed, with the exception of my head. After a few quick glances I can tell it's the same room as yesterday, with one difference. Somebody new is here, with the body of a burmecian. It looks very similar to the dead one Uncle had us examine. That must be Freya Crescent, renowned dragon knight and protector of the world. They unlock the cage same as yesterday, and go to sit down. This time there is an extra seat for the knight, and the same empty one for me. The king again makes his offer for me to come sit down; again I refuse to acknowledge him. This time, however, the script I had planned to follow falls to pieces as the king says, "I really wish you would trust us Clara. We just want to know why you murdered those people. We aren't going to hurt you in any way. I, for one, am curious. Why would you want to kill someone? Did someone threaten you, say you had to? If so, you can tell us. They'll never know, so stop looking as if you'll die if you make one wrong move." This last statement startles me out of acting, and I jerk upright. How can they tell I'm afraid? I recover in a millisecond, my mask slipping back in place. He sighs. "Neeeever mind. Anyway, this is Freya Crescent. She's our resident Burmecian." "Call me Freya," Says the dragon knight. "I have been told about that language of yours, and was intrigued. I studied many languages in training to be a Dragon Knight, and yours sounds like none ever heard. I wish to learn it, if you will teach me." I look at the cage floor, lost for words. I am faced with a tricky question here. If I refuse I shall have to give a valid reason why, but I would face a great risk of her translating everything I say to them if I do. I come to a quick decision after some debate.
What is her decision? I can't decide. Until I get reviews on what people want next I won't be able to put up my next chapter. Having Freya learn it. or not learn it. could change the outcome of the story, along with how good each chapter is. So vote! I run a democracy here!
