Progress And Such

Since the last word count bar I tried failed so badly, here's another:

26716 / 200,000 words. 13% done!

Much better. I have cracked 25,000 which is a great milestone. Here's an excerpt from my latest idea.

As soon as the sun sank beneath the horizon, I was back in action. Hidden underneath layers of straw was a small knife that I could barely grasp in my talons. If I could have used my beak to hold it, I would have. But my bastard owner had decided to bind my mouth shut as punishment for biting him earlier. And so I was left with no choice but to use my wretched claws instead. The knife was horribly dull, barely putting a dent into the bars of my cage. I pushed harder with the knife, metal noisily screeching against metal. Noise was the last thing I wanted; Qadir would bind my feet and clip my wings if he found me trying to escape like this. So I eased up on the pressure, slowly dragging the knife back and forth across the bar, praying to see some kind of chink in my prison. The light slowly faded, giving way to a dark night. Shadows were creeping across the vast treasure room when I realized that the knife was doing absolutely nothing. With a frustrated (but muffled) squawk, I tossed it through the bars of my cage, where it landed on top of a filigreed jewelery box.

I wished for a moment that Giedre was still here, to tell me that it was better to stay calm and unruffled, to tell me that I'd certainly be free one day, she was sure of it. But she was gone now and I was alone without a friend for the first time in five years. It was true that I knew I would one day be free of this place, that I was destined to lead a life of wonder and magnificence, but it was nice to hear it from someone else besides myself every now and then.

"Simmer down, Nisr. I'm trying to sleep."

Go to hell, old man. I fixed my steely gaze on Bilal, wishing I could screech at him through the darkness. Sensing my foul mood, he grumbled about my bad attitude, his grizzled form curling up on a carpet of indigo and gold that was his home. There were others in the vault, imprisoned treasures such as myself, but no one else spoke to me. I was too fiery, too stubborn, too willing to go too far and earn Qadir's wrath. If it was within their control, they didn't speak a word to me; Qadir was the strictest of men and they dared not get in his way.

Me, on the other hand? I wasn't afraid of Qadir. I'd seen worse than him. I had no qualms about testing his patience.

I have no idea where it's going but it's holding my attention for now. The best part? I have two main characters and when I write them I actually have two different voices. Awesome!

Chapter 1, Scene 1

Advika smiled mischieviously and took the offensive, swinging her curved sword at Mrityu's midsection. Her aim was slightly off and her momentum was slow, but he jumped backwards anyway, just to be safe.

"What do you think you're doing?" He growled, pointing his sword towards Advika's throat, noting that she did not back away. That same mischevious smile was alight on her face. Her gaze was direct, her hand on her hip defiantly, sword pointed at his chest. Mrityu was once again reminded why his sister drove his family insane. She is not like other Rajput women. For better or for worse.

"You are far too easy on me, dear older brother. Are you afraid a woman would challenge your skills with the sword?" Advika said, mixing respect with a taunt as she spoke. "I am simply trying to push my training to a more strenuous level."

Mrityu observed her silently, watching her as she watched him. He lowered his sword from her throat and a bright look crossed her face, happy to know Mrityu had acquised to her wishes. But then, without warning, Mrityu sidestepped and in one smooth movement both disarmed Advika and knocked her feet out from underneath her. She fell to the hard stones quietly, not even crying out with surprise or pain. The surprising move had caught her off guard.

"May god forgive me for striking a woman." Mrityu said calmly, sheathing Advika's sword back in the sling and offering her his hand.

NaNo is kicking my ass today. I haven't had any time to write thanks to an interview and the election. I'll just have to redouble my efforts tomorrow. *game face*

Unfinished And Untitled

Brehan found her by the water.

It was early in the day, the perfect time to hunt, and the sun was beginning to rise in the sky, bursting through the sparse clouds that dotted the blue sky. Not even April and the temperatures were already soaring, the sticky humidity wrapping around him like an unwanted blanket. It was near impossible to stay on the trail of the deer without taking a break, and so he did, veering off course towards the mighty river that ran through the valley. He could catch up with the deer later in the day.

Tucking his bow back into its sling, Brehan bounded down the sloping hills towards the dark river. Zaphura, they called it, an amalgamated name of the two tribes that claimed each side. His peoples' side, the Zamin, were of a water tribe speciality, while the Phuranya were the fire tribe brothers that had settled on the other side of the banks. Zaphura's waters were always on the warmer side, owing to the bond of brotherhood that tied both his water tribe and the fire tribe on the other side. Despite this fact, he knew that dipping in the waters was just the sort of solution to the steaming temperatures of the day. But as he cleared the treeline and made his way to the shore, a figure caught his eye.

She was sitting on top of a small outcropping of rocks next to the waters side. He had never seen someone like her before. The women of the surrounding regions were all similar in particular ways: tanned olive skin, straight black hair. But this woman had creamy pale skin, dotted with light freckles on her cheeks. Her hair was bunched in loose curls at her neck, somewhere between brown and red, shining like a subtle fire in the light of the climbing sun. Added with the largest, bluest eyes he had ever seen, and soft cherry lips, Brehan felt as if he were laying eyes upon a goddess fallen to the earth. Except a goddess would have selected better clothing, not the coarse grey robe that hung from her slender form like a dead man's skin.

What was this woman doing here, looking etherially out of place?

Walking quietly, Brehan came towards her at an angle, as if she were a lion cub that he didn't want to startle or scare. She heard his footsteps almost immediately, those blue eyes fixing upon him with a strange look of confusion. He continued to approach her slowly, finally kneeling down before her as he came to her side.

"Fair lady," he spoke reverently, as if there were no other alternative, "You do not look as if you come from these parts. Have you been separated from your people?"

The confused look on her face heightened even further, a frown furrowing across her brow. Then she began to speak in a sharp, crisp language that he had never heard of before. It was a jarring surprise, hearing her frustrated tones in an alien tongue. But her voice was rich and powerful, without a hint of fear, and Brehan found himself suddenly smitten by the mysterious woman. She stopped talking when she realized that he didn't understand what she was saying, sighing and crossing her arms with disappointment. Her gaze went back to the river, as if her answers were lying amidst the glistening waters.

"If you come with me, back to my village, perhaps I can help you." Brehan asked, even though he knew she didn't understand him. He spoke kindly and gently, hoping that the tone of his voice would help her comprehend what he was trying to say. He shifted on his haunches so that he was kneeling in front of her, directly in her line of sight. "I want to help you. Do you understand?" Tentatively, Brehan reached for her hand, relieved when she didn't flinch or pull it out of his grasp. Holding it between both of his own, he eyed her hopefully.

She considered him for a moment, then gracefully rose from her seat on the rocks. She was much taller than he had realized, almost as tall as himself, her fair legs peeking out from the bottom of the robe as she looked at him expectantly. Still holding her by the hand, Brehan retraced his steps back to the village. The deer would be safe for another day.

As per usual, it's based on a dream I had. I'm 100% sure I wrote a couple more chapters but for the life of me I have no idea where they are. I guess I'll just have to keep looking for it. I have a feeling I may have deleted it in a fit of embarrassment.

Anyway, this particular passage reminds me how unrefined my writing skills are. I mean... ugh. I sound like Stephanie Meyer or something.