Ok, so I finished this chapter of Will. I guess the next installment of LRAGOT will be on its normal day, Wednesday, then. Well, but I’m tempted to get it done early.
I’m…not entirely happy about how this chapter came out. Initially I was going to jump straight to Metria’s bar, but as I thought about Zedda starting out on his adventure, this scene gradually evolved in my mind. And then it got completely hijacked. Yeah, once I advance the story farther, I will probably come back to this scene and revise it. Or cut it entirely.
I began my new journey at midnight, a habit from centuries ago. There had once been a small, nomadic culture which had held that all journeys should begin at dawn, so as to receive the sun’s blessing against the many trials that could face a traveller. Sadly, this tribe had also believed in seeking life eternal, and eventually defied the sanctity of Death; thus, the tribe was destroyed. By me. Ever since that time, I had always started my investigations at midnight. Continue reading
My daughter damaged one of the pages of this chapter. Literary criticism at its finest!
Daenerys 3 (23)
Dany is riding with Ser Jorah Mormont, on top of a ridge above the Dothraki grasslands. They are followed by a party including Viserys, but Dany decided that she didn’t want to listen to her brother whining again today. She leaves orders for everyone to remain behind, and rides off down the ridge by herself.
As she rides, she thinks back on the journey to this point. At first, riding had been a terrible ordeal. She had been completely unprepared for riding entire days, and her body had become a mass of sores and screaming muscles, and she began to consider death a preferable alternative. But one night, she had a dream of a dragon, which breathed flame at her that consumed her body without causing her pain. When she woke up that morning, she was feeling better, and afterwards she quickly healed and toughened to the point that riding became her favorite activity. Continue reading
And now, angst.
Arya 2 (22)
Arya’s father is late to dinner again, and she can tell that he has been fighting with the King’s council. Ned discusses the upcoming tourney with Jory, and Sansa expresses a desire to attend. Ned doesn’t want to allow it, but Septa Mordane talks him into it. He allows Sansa and Arya to attend; however, Arya doesn’t want anything to do with the event. She and Sansa begin to argue, before their father stops them. Ned leaves the hall without eating anything, and Arya begins to muse gloomily upon her current life. No one attempts to address her, and she misses her brothers and the days back at Winterfell. Eventually she starts brooding about Mycah, and how no one she trusted had tried to help him. Becoming angry, she gets up and leaves, ignoring Mordane who tries to stop her.
Back in her bedroom, she begins to cry, and blame herself for everything that has happened. She goes to her chest and removes her sword, Needle, from where it is hidden beneath her clothes, and draws it. Mordane starts pounding on the door, demanding that Arya open it, and threatens to tell her father. Arya screams at her to go away, and Mordane leaves. The girl stares out the window, wishing she could climb like Bran, and starts dreaming of running away, finding Nymeria, and returning to Winterfell, or even joining Jon on the Wall. Then her father arrives. Continue reading
When I refer to a Fantasy Kitchen Sink, does everyone know what I am talking about?
For those who fear the gravimetric horror of TVTropes, it refers to a setting where everything can exist, even if they have wildly different origins: aliens, gods, wizards, vampires, management consultants, hillbillies, etc., etc. Anything and everything is thrown together, and mixed thoroughly. And Brian Wilkerson has done just that, in his Journey to Chaos series: he has taken everything that he likes (with a strong lean toward Japanese anime and video games), thrown it into a giant blender, and hit ‘liquify’, resulting in a jumbled but delicious mess.
Um. I feel my metaphor is getting away from me, so let’s move on. Continue reading
I didn’t notice, until the handle of my office began to turn.
The building had been old when I moved in, all those years ago. Now, it was almost ancient. I had grown used to its song, a soothing lullabye of groans and creaks, shifting with the seasons and between night and day. I paid no attention to the occasional skitter of tiny claws, or the occasional skitter of much larger claws. At that time, I hadn’t noticed that what approached my door were not claws, but footsteps. Even when someone reached out to brush the dust off the sign on my door, I failed to take note. But then the handle turned, and I was suddenly alert.
My right hand tightened around Arkesis, loose in her holster. If I had eyelids, they would have narrowed. My eyebrows might have lowered, my mouth could have drawn back in frown. My left hand…but enough of that. Obviously, none of that happened.
When you’ve been dead for over a millennia, even drawing a deep breath ceases to be a reflex. Continue reading
Let the disconnected time resume. Welcome once more…
Tyrion 3 (21)
Tyrion is at dinner with Lord Commander Mormont and a number of his men, having informed them that he plans to return south. He spends some time joking with the men, although Ser Alliser Thorne gets angry at the dwarf’s mocking tone and leaves. The other men are more relaxed, even when Tyrion pokes fun in their direction. Later that evening, Tyrion is alone with Mormont, sharing a mulled drink by the fire. Mormont insists that he have an escort as far as Winterfell, and Tyrion thanks him while internally wondering what Mormont wants in return.
Mormont points out that Tyrion’s sister is the queen, that his brother is acclaimed a hero, and that his father was the most powerful lord in the south. He wants Tyrion to tell the King, and others, of the pressing need for good men in the Night’s Watch. Mormont has felt the approach of Winter, and seen the signs of a great disturbance in the North. He warns Tyrion that when Winter arrives, the Watch is in no position to hold back the horrors that could arrive. Tyrion gravely agrees to pass the message along; he fails to mention that King Robert will ignore him, his father will treat him as though he were crazed, and his brother would simply laugh the warning off. Continue reading