november and december snippets

There are quite a few long snippets this time around. My excuse is that most of them are from Copper Blood, and I just love this story beyond all reason. So yes.

“You’re from 001,” the ambassador said softly, his voice matter-of-fact. The sounds of fighting from across the room had cut out, and Nate wasn’t at all sure who had won. For all he knew, he was about to get grabbed just like Brittany had been. But he had to focus on this, on pulling the trigger, on fulfilling his mission. 

There were two bullets in the gun. His life didn’t matter, only this did, the mission, he must he must he must he must 

He opened his mouth to speak, to say something, to excuse himself, to apologize. The man’s face creased in a slow, sad smile, lines appearing by his eyes. “I’m sorry, son. I’m so, so sorry. How old are you, nineteen? Twenty? It takes ‘em young.” The man stepped closer to him, pressing the barrel of the gun into his chest. The smile was gone, and only the sadness remained. “It was a mistake, all of this. Your creation. That thing’s creation. And I know it doesn’t make sense. But I’m sorry. Do what you must.” 

 Nate dropped the gun. “I can’t,” he said. “Go home. Go home and love that daughter of yours, because by God I can’t shoot you.”

- Copper Blood, NaNo 2012

Nate wasn’t prepared for the pain when it came. This time around, it shut out all thought, every impulse that was not of itself. The bite of the cuffs paled, and disappeared completely, lost amid the roaring beast. It tore through his mind, poured itself into his veins, a thing of molten fire that set his blood to boiling, so violent that the atoms seemed to split, reforming into chunks of iron and copper, crystallized remains of what had once fed him life. Pain tore at him from the inside, his whole body jerking against it.

- Copper Blood, NaNo 2012

“I guess you’re not a travelling person?” Nate asked, raising an eyebrow.

 She gave him a withering look. “That is putting it mildly,” she said. “Particularly when you have a hyperactive tribble and Agent K to keep you company, not to mention the ignoramus hunk of muscle that keeps trying to get away. She’s already kicked out our taillight and Nathaniel whatever-your-last-name-is, I swear to you, I am going to make you pay if she gets me stopped by the cops.”

- Copper Blood, NaNo 2012

There was no one about when he coasted into a courtyard, nearly crashing into a statue he hadn’t remembered being there. This landing was even worse than his last; he fetched up against a pillar, Jo half-cradled against him. No outcry had been made, no alarm sounded. Stupid Frey, was his last thought before he Shifted, falling onto the stones with one bare arm still draped over Jo. Stupid, stupid Frey.

- Caste, novel in progress

 - Kyla Denae

snippets of october

One of mine is quite long this month. But honey badger don't care. I love this scene from Dark Dawn, mostly because it sent one of those delightful little shivers, of mingled fear and wonder at what I've created, up my spine. You know it's good when you get one of those. Either that, or you're overwhelmingly, hopelessly lost in an idea of your own importance. Either way.

Without further ado, here are this month's Snippets, a blog challenge-thing put on by Katie, from Whisperings of the Pen!

It was Durion Keljên, or Durion Keljên-who-had-been. His long, dark hair was the same as she had seen before, his eyes the same queer mixture of black and white, but there was more madness there now, and more power. 

 It was from him that had come the voice. He had raised a great staff above his head, a curving thing of wood that was taller than she. At the top of it, a black spearhead crowned it, marked it as a weapon. Dark robes billowed around the man-that-was-not-a-man, his words booming from deep within, making him seem worse than any sorcerer in any tale she’d ever heard. 

"My children,” he called, voice fell and terrible. “Our time has come. In the time-before-time, before Darv’ii exiled me,” the creature spat the name of the Dwarvish god, saying it as a curse, “I was great, mightier than He, mightier than the Dawn he had forced upon me, forced me to love. And I would have taken the world, would have been in dominion over it. But the Creator resented me. Resented my power, and He cast me down, imprisoned me below the depths. I say no more!” A burst of lightning, a boom of thunder came from the creature’s staff as he brandished it once more above his head, and the Ladwalden hooted and shouted, a sound as of a mighty wind, the mouths of a thousand thousands all crying out. 

 The creature raised a hand for silence, and continued once the vale had ceased to ring. “We will take back what is mine, what is ours! We will take the world for the night beginning with the children of men. I will stand before the King, this Darv’ii who believes He is great, and I will raise my hand against Him. And we, my children, shall be great in His place.” 

 The roar began again, swelling above his words, and the creature suddenly turned, a satisfied smile on his face. He looked down at Anarisia, straight at her, and he leaned down to peer into her eyes. 

 He could see her. She knew he could, and the breath seized in her throat, the presence of darkness and evil crushing down on her again. 

“Go home, little human,” he whispered, voice eerily intimate. “Go home and carry your tales. And when you see her, tell my sweet sister that she shall not live long after our Father.” 

- Dark Dawn, novel in progress

The war consumes him, catching him up in its firm grasp. Adrenaline pours through him, filling every cavity and cell with intended purpose, flooding his body with the same manic desires as the ones around him. On and on and on, pushing, pulling humanity, for there is a purpose and it must be fulfilled, though he knows not what it is, nor what it is for. 

 Something beckons, Something beyond himself, Something that could perhaps save him. Perhaps here is the answer he has been searching for, in the fevered eyes of a madman and the raised hands of a million men, all pledging their bodies and lives and souls to the madman who claims to lead them. 

- Something, short story 

- Kyla Denae

september's snippets

So in an attempt to actually make myself write more than I have been, I'm going to attempt the Snippets of Story project/thing/whatever that Katie over at Whisperings of the Pen puts on every month. There are only two this month, mainly because--well, I've not been writing as much, and what I have written doesn't really 'wow' me, but I did have a few good bits of description and times where I sat there and whispered, "I am so deep how do I do this I am so proud of myself yes."

And here they are. You're welcome.

Firelight played across the stone flags of the floor, washing over pages and leather bindings. A delicate pattern of light and shadow came right over her, sitting as close as she dared to the hearth, back against a cushion and book open across her lap. She had long since ceased reading, though, and Anarisia was staring into the flames, thinking and trying not to all at once. 

-Dark Dawn, novel in progress 

 either way, like or love or whatever is a funny thing. especially when you get to thinking about it. because what is love? seems to me it's sort of just this acknowledgement of the fact that both of you are alright, and the idea that maybe if two alrights come together they'll make an excellent. seems pretty absurd to me. still doesn't keep me from falling into it anyway.

-the eternal life of edgar alexander, stream-of-consciousness short story

 - Kyla Denae