Hello, All!
If anyone's noticed, I've changed my name. I felt unoriginal with Toymaker, because I got it from a book by Jeremy de Quidt. Feather Gambler is my own creation… I like it a lot more to be honest.
Sorry I've been off the radar, I'll do my best to make up for my absence, starting with a new drabble. Hopefully I'm not too rusty… *creaks*
The character is Atlanta, as per Tinian I'att's suggestion.
Thanks to HoneyGoddess57, Tinian I'att, and Little Miss Illusional for reviewing! =)
…
Disambiguating Derivations
…
Confrontation: a word with ill-defined baggage trailing haphazardly along its length. A terrifying shot of levity to finagle a stark heart. She didn't believe the sights that met her had much value; not anymore. Tangled slurs of violence were all that rallied her wizened spirit, efforts of peace long dissipated from view in the battle field. It was her turf, her territory, her peace that was besotted with the anger of what should have been her life. Her wishes were no longer what she fought for.
The violence was not her will, it was foreign. She was the weapon, the proxy in a war that's load was never meant to befall her shoulders. But she carried it, like she carried the weight of her bow before her. The gadget was small, ethereal and only understood by skill; something that would easily fold in on itself when mistreated. It was something so easily demeaned because of its appearance; nothing that petite could ever be a threat.
That was where the flame sparked. A ray of anger, of fury at the need to prove oneself against conformity and a branded name; a deadly strike of radiance… for most the last light they would ever see. Her weapon blazed fast, a venomous trajectory that caught sight of anything and everything in its path. Though undermined, determination struck fast; and like her profound, complex bolas, she would cling to the problem until she could be the clear victor… the champion in the midst the degradation of a simple reputation.
Just a hint of trepidation would contort her resolve… and then: the transformation that brought forward the poisonous compassion she eagerly fought with.
...
I don't know, I feel I've missed something. Normally I would try and stay away from Atlanta because her character is quite complex. I think I need a bit more practice before I feel completely comfortable with her.
In all honesty, I don't think my writing style really does her any justice, and it was a little tough to incorporate both the crossbow and her bolas with her personality. I suppose I have to start somewhere.
Did I nail it? Did I completely blow it out of proportion? I'd love to know what you all thought =]
Constructive criticism most welcome.
Symbolism is everywhere.
~Feather Gambler