1.26.2005
*doesn't have a title*
Everyone remember me talking about Maera and Kavin, and their respective stories? No? Well, then, go here and read about them. The basic plots haven't changed much since then, mostly because I haven't thought about them a lot, but anyway...quite some time ago I had a scene for Kavin in my mind, and I was idly going over it recently and decided I should write it down. Here's how it came out. And let's see, what kind of important information can I ramble about here...well, this takes place when Kavin's about 16, at least three years after he first learned he was a telepath and he started learning from Andris. To his knowledge there aren't any others out there who can do what he can, so he's basically lived for three years believing that he can do anything he wants to (not that he'll choose to do so, mind you; I'll deal with that some other time, probably earlier in the chronology, so he doesn't have to spend the entire story struggling with the desire to conquer the universe or something).
Kavin let his inner eye flit through the crowd, an action that now required almost no concentration. He kept his shields high to keep others’ privacy intact, sensing only presences and no emotions, as Andris had taught him ages ago. He could practice his skills even in public this way—
His stride faltered, and he had the odd momentary sensation of his mind’s eye going blurry. What in the worlds…?
Deliberately he withdrew and then made shallow bridges into each mind nearby. Something here was different—wrong—
He hit a barrier and pulled up short. Leaning against the wall and trying to look casual, Kavin narrowed in on the man he’d sensed: medium height, dark hair, an uneven beard accentuating hawkish features. Kavin bridged the gap and set a hook into the man’s mind, and then carefully breached the man’s outer defenses.
Void.
Startled, he withdrew. The man walking toward him looked ordinary in every way—except his eyes, there was something about his eyes…
Again Kavin bridged, and again his inner sense tumbled into nothingness. Darkness flooded his mind as he pressed deeper, searching.
Nothing. Emptiness of vacuum, emptiness of deep space—no air, no breath—
Alarmed now, Kavin yanked his awareness out of the other’s mind and forced his eyes open, and the effort drained him, as if he’d tried to bridge with someone miles away. He straightened, thrusting one hand against the wall for balance.
The stranger was staring at him. No, not staring—glowering, and Kavin could see in his eyes the anger and suspicion he could not feel.
He couldn’t have sensed me bridging him. That’s impossible.
Again he heard Andris’ voice: There’s still so much we don’t know…
“Chaos,” he muttered.
“What are you doing?” the stranger demanded, striding closer.
Kavin pushed away from the wall. “I…what do you mean?”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “You’re a terrible liar, boy. Once more—what are you doing?”
Kavin spread his hands. “Taking a walk. Does that…offend you?” He slowed his pounding heart and kept his hands from trembling, determined not to show his fear.
“I see.” The stranger spun on his heel and began to stalk away.
Just once more…
Kavin probed for the breach he’d left behind and slid his point of perception through. What in chaos are you? he wondered—
The man wheeled. Metal glinted in his hand, light flashed, and a white-hot pain erupted in Kavin’s chest. He staggered back, pressing one hand to his ribs, drawing a deep breath that brought more agony.
He shot me. He shot me…
Kavin crumpled to his hands and knees. Stars burst in his vision as he struggled to breathe. Something hot and wet trickled over his hand, and he looked down in disbelief as blood welled between his fingers and began to pool on the walkway.
Dimly he realized that no one in the crowd had reacted to the shot—no one had screamed, or run away, or even tripped over him. That was strange, though he couldn’t understand why—
He’s shielding me. My [God], he’s shielding…
Drawing every last particle of energy into his inner senses, he flung out a wild, uncontrolled probe—felt the shield splinter—heard shouts from the crowd—
He collapsed under the onrush of darkness.
Okay, well, the first thing you need to know is that I wrote this while I was sick and probably shouldn't have been in school, so that might explain why I read over it now and think it's really awkward. The other big problem is this other...dude here. First off, the description is bad, especially since it's almost straight plagiarism--and what the heck do hawkish features look like anyway?--but I just couldn't figure out how else to describe him. *shrug* Yeah, and I'm bad with dialogue anyway, but threatening dialogue is really not my forte. So...um...yeah. That's about it.
Oh, and Kavin doesn't die here, if you're curious. That would sort of ruin the whole story. :p This is...close to the beginning, or at least close to the beginning of things actually happening.
Kavin let his inner eye flit through the crowd, an action that now required almost no concentration. He kept his shields high to keep others’ privacy intact, sensing only presences and no emotions, as Andris had taught him ages ago. He could practice his skills even in public this way—
His stride faltered, and he had the odd momentary sensation of his mind’s eye going blurry. What in the worlds…?
Deliberately he withdrew and then made shallow bridges into each mind nearby. Something here was different—wrong—
He hit a barrier and pulled up short. Leaning against the wall and trying to look casual, Kavin narrowed in on the man he’d sensed: medium height, dark hair, an uneven beard accentuating hawkish features. Kavin bridged the gap and set a hook into the man’s mind, and then carefully breached the man’s outer defenses.
Void.
Startled, he withdrew. The man walking toward him looked ordinary in every way—except his eyes, there was something about his eyes…
Again Kavin bridged, and again his inner sense tumbled into nothingness. Darkness flooded his mind as he pressed deeper, searching.
Nothing. Emptiness of vacuum, emptiness of deep space—no air, no breath—
Alarmed now, Kavin yanked his awareness out of the other’s mind and forced his eyes open, and the effort drained him, as if he’d tried to bridge with someone miles away. He straightened, thrusting one hand against the wall for balance.
The stranger was staring at him. No, not staring—glowering, and Kavin could see in his eyes the anger and suspicion he could not feel.
He couldn’t have sensed me bridging him. That’s impossible.
Again he heard Andris’ voice: There’s still so much we don’t know…
“Chaos,” he muttered.
“What are you doing?” the stranger demanded, striding closer.
Kavin pushed away from the wall. “I…what do you mean?”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “You’re a terrible liar, boy. Once more—what are you doing?”
Kavin spread his hands. “Taking a walk. Does that…offend you?” He slowed his pounding heart and kept his hands from trembling, determined not to show his fear.
“I see.” The stranger spun on his heel and began to stalk away.
Just once more…
Kavin probed for the breach he’d left behind and slid his point of perception through. What in chaos are you? he wondered—
The man wheeled. Metal glinted in his hand, light flashed, and a white-hot pain erupted in Kavin’s chest. He staggered back, pressing one hand to his ribs, drawing a deep breath that brought more agony.
He shot me. He shot me…
Kavin crumpled to his hands and knees. Stars burst in his vision as he struggled to breathe. Something hot and wet trickled over his hand, and he looked down in disbelief as blood welled between his fingers and began to pool on the walkway.
Dimly he realized that no one in the crowd had reacted to the shot—no one had screamed, or run away, or even tripped over him. That was strange, though he couldn’t understand why—
He’s shielding me. My [God], he’s shielding…
Drawing every last particle of energy into his inner senses, he flung out a wild, uncontrolled probe—felt the shield splinter—heard shouts from the crowd—
He collapsed under the onrush of darkness.
Okay, well, the first thing you need to know is that I wrote this while I was sick and probably shouldn't have been in school, so that might explain why I read over it now and think it's really awkward. The other big problem is this other...dude here. First off, the description is bad, especially since it's almost straight plagiarism--and what the heck do hawkish features look like anyway?--but I just couldn't figure out how else to describe him. *shrug* Yeah, and I'm bad with dialogue anyway, but threatening dialogue is really not my forte. So...um...yeah. That's about it.
Oh, and Kavin doesn't die here, if you're curious. That would sort of ruin the whole story. :p This is...close to the beginning, or at least close to the beginning of things actually happening.
5:18 PM|| 1.24.2005
Feathered Arrow
I've wanted to post this for a while now. It is a short story I might look at to expand on when I am done with Mair. It started with a friend and me writting a sentence for each other and exchanging them to make something out of them. The first sentence in this scene is what I had to work with. Comments would be nice. If I do not end up making this into a book/fuller story, I am looking at entering it in some short story contests. I will probably change the character's names sometime. Suggestions would be nice. ;)
The water swirled dizzyingly below her feet, carrying dirt and sticks and debris. But Irina could not turn away. They were calling out to her, threatening. If she did not answer, or he did not break, they would drop her. Wrist and feet burning from the cords that tied her, she looked up again as the men shouted. Ashred was very pale, watching her and flinching every time the wind swung her from one side to the other. It hurt them both to see the other suffering. Now it would not matter. She would surely die.
Perhaps that was what she deserved, after running from home only because of her petty wishes to have adventure. When her older brother followed, she had run even from him, making a sort of hide and seek game out of it. Over time she got bolder, and had carried it too far, into enemy territory.
Of course, she was captured shortly. Her brother also. Neither was trained in arms or in tracking, whereas this enemy was. However, her brother knew something, something he had not trusted her with. She knew the enemy’s question toward him was, “Where are they?” But he would never answer.
She could remember the torture he had gone through. At first, she was hurt also, but soon they had discovered her blissful innocence and stopped. Her brother had gotten it much, much worse. Once when he was thrown into their small cell, he had been missing two of his left fingers. Another time part of his ear was cut off. He always had deep scars on his back and chest, welts from the whip. He would carry the marks of his imprisonment to his death, whether it was soon or late.
It had taken far too short for the enemy to discover his love and protectiveness for her. Then her torture had started again, in front of him. When they began she had cried to him for help, but in a long, quiet talk after, he had explained that to do that to him hurt him much worse than any whip or poison they could ever used. He begged her not to ask again, not unless she truly, truly meant it, and she had agreed. Ever since she had held her tongue through it all.
A burst of wind rocked Irina, and the cords dug deeper. She closed her eyes tight on the pain and the shouts and his face. They yelled again, then suddenly the ropes went slack. She heard a cry, and that was all. The water hit her hard, knocking the air out of her lungs. She helplessly flailed, but felt herself sinking. With tied hands and feet she could do nothing.
There was another splash, and her brother was swimming to her. She cried out to Ashred for help, and he wrapped his arm around her, holding her up. Beautiful air rushed into her lungs again. She gulped at it greedily. He whispered to her not to worry, that they would be fine. Slowly he began dragging her towards the lowest bank. She tried to help him, kicking at the water with her legs.
Without warning his arm went limp, his whole body did. Before the water blocked him from her site, she could see the red tipped arrow in his back. Then she was below the murky liquid.
The water swirled dizzyingly below her feet, carrying dirt and sticks and debris. But Irina could not turn away. They were calling out to her, threatening. If she did not answer, or he did not break, they would drop her. Wrist and feet burning from the cords that tied her, she looked up again as the men shouted. Ashred was very pale, watching her and flinching every time the wind swung her from one side to the other. It hurt them both to see the other suffering. Now it would not matter. She would surely die.
Perhaps that was what she deserved, after running from home only because of her petty wishes to have adventure. When her older brother followed, she had run even from him, making a sort of hide and seek game out of it. Over time she got bolder, and had carried it too far, into enemy territory.
Of course, she was captured shortly. Her brother also. Neither was trained in arms or in tracking, whereas this enemy was. However, her brother knew something, something he had not trusted her with. She knew the enemy’s question toward him was, “Where are they?” But he would never answer.
She could remember the torture he had gone through. At first, she was hurt also, but soon they had discovered her blissful innocence and stopped. Her brother had gotten it much, much worse. Once when he was thrown into their small cell, he had been missing two of his left fingers. Another time part of his ear was cut off. He always had deep scars on his back and chest, welts from the whip. He would carry the marks of his imprisonment to his death, whether it was soon or late.
It had taken far too short for the enemy to discover his love and protectiveness for her. Then her torture had started again, in front of him. When they began she had cried to him for help, but in a long, quiet talk after, he had explained that to do that to him hurt him much worse than any whip or poison they could ever used. He begged her not to ask again, not unless she truly, truly meant it, and she had agreed. Ever since she had held her tongue through it all.
A burst of wind rocked Irina, and the cords dug deeper. She closed her eyes tight on the pain and the shouts and his face. They yelled again, then suddenly the ropes went slack. She heard a cry, and that was all. The water hit her hard, knocking the air out of her lungs. She helplessly flailed, but felt herself sinking. With tied hands and feet she could do nothing.
There was another splash, and her brother was swimming to her. She cried out to Ashred for help, and he wrapped his arm around her, holding her up. Beautiful air rushed into her lungs again. She gulped at it greedily. He whispered to her not to worry, that they would be fine. Slowly he began dragging her towards the lowest bank. She tried to help him, kicking at the water with her legs.
Without warning his arm went limp, his whole body did. Before the water blocked him from her site, she could see the red tipped arrow in his back. Then she was below the murky liquid.
