Ancient Future (working title) - Prologue
Nov. 2nd, 2010 02:38 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
merikuru posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
volieredeatoriAh.
I caved. I'm doing NaNoWriMo this year.
It's a novelization of Phantasy Star Portable 2 from my character's perspective, and it shouldn't be this much fun, but it IS.
I'll be posting it here as I finish various bits - both to show it off, and to inspire myself to keep going. At this point, I don't think I'll NEED much inspiration, but you know, just in case.
Have a prologue.
The flowers were gone, the grounds were silent, and the sky wept mistily overhead.
No. Her feet threatened to slip on the rain-wet stone as she ran, but Sera paid her precarious balance no heed, swiping droplets from her eyelashes and wondering if the sound she could hear was really pursuing footsteps, or just the frantic pounding of her own heart in her ears. She didn't dare stop; she knew that she shouldn't have come back here, that it was the first place they'd look for her, but she couldn't help herself. This was the one place she always felt safe - but every desperate look around her, searching for flashes of color and straining to catch wisps of scent that just weren't there, was making her suddenly realize just how ephemeral that safety really was in the first place.
She skidded on the slick path, pitched forward and had only enough mind to be thankful she was near a door as she clutched at the rusted bronze handle with hands curled clawlike. No. Please, no.
The sounds were getting louder. Closer. Boot-sole on stone and shouted anger echoed shallowly in her ears, and she wrenched hard at the door, nearly pulling it from its eroded hinges with strength born of sheer desperation.
It opened only slightly, but it was all the space Sera needed. She threw herself inside, caught herself roughly on cracked, aging steps and spared only a small whimper for the pain as she pulled herself upright and fled deeper into the heart of the castle.
Darkness reigned inside the once-majestic structure, but she didn't need the light, pelting around sharp corners and vaulting gaps in ancient stone with the ease afforded her by intimate familiarity. She'd walked this path countless times, nine years of scattered visits and friendly guidance painting a vivid map in the depths of her memory, and her panic only lent her even more swiftness that soon led her up the last stairs (creaky wood, these ones were, as opposed to the worn-down stone tiny feet had so often slipped on in her childhood) and to the very highest point, the pinnacle of Ohtori Castle's single lofty tower. There, and only there, did she cease to run, collapsing to her knees on the splintered oaken floor and wrapping her arms tight around herself, gasping for breath and trying frantically to rub the rain-chill from her bare arms.
It was all wrong. Everything was gone. Her only safe haven was safe no longer, twisted by some unseen force into this malevolent parody of itself.
And yet, when she caught her breath and dared to raise her eyes, one thing still remained - a cracked, filthy vessel on the windowsill, filled haphazardly with earth and a single golden flower, its petals sagging earthward as if in profound exhaustion.
...The last one. The very last one, she realized, and her eyes grew hot, pain twisting her chest. You knew, didn't you? You knew it would all be over today.
The voices came again, spiraling upward from below and growing ever louder, but Sera paid them no more heed, putting her face in her hands and willing herself not to cry.
There was no struggling, no fighting, not even the softest peep of protest from her, when she was surrounded and pulled to her feet, and they seemed satisfied enough, prodding her roughly from the tower and back through corridors that suddenly seemed so cold and unforgiving to emerge into sudden harsh sunlight. The rain had stopped, and in its wake, the castle glared down on her, an empty husk of memories withering away in the face of reality.
They were nearly out the gate when she stole one last glance back at the tower, and though she never so much as twitched an eyelash, she could feel a deep, profound rage welling up in her chest; lying on the flagstones of the courtyard, so far beneath the tower window, was a pile of shards and soil and sickly gold, all that remained of the flower that someone had so carelessly knocked from the sill.
The anger warmed her, sparked an unshakable determination behind her impassive mask.
No more.
Even years later, they wouldn't be able to explain just how she had slipped by, but that very same day, Sera Cecille disappeared from the Communion of Gurhal for good.
I caved. I'm doing NaNoWriMo this year.
It's a novelization of Phantasy Star Portable 2 from my character's perspective, and it shouldn't be this much fun, but it IS.
I'll be posting it here as I finish various bits - both to show it off, and to inspire myself to keep going. At this point, I don't think I'll NEED much inspiration, but you know, just in case.
Have a prologue.
The flowers were gone, the grounds were silent, and the sky wept mistily overhead.
No. Her feet threatened to slip on the rain-wet stone as she ran, but Sera paid her precarious balance no heed, swiping droplets from her eyelashes and wondering if the sound she could hear was really pursuing footsteps, or just the frantic pounding of her own heart in her ears. She didn't dare stop; she knew that she shouldn't have come back here, that it was the first place they'd look for her, but she couldn't help herself. This was the one place she always felt safe - but every desperate look around her, searching for flashes of color and straining to catch wisps of scent that just weren't there, was making her suddenly realize just how ephemeral that safety really was in the first place.
She skidded on the slick path, pitched forward and had only enough mind to be thankful she was near a door as she clutched at the rusted bronze handle with hands curled clawlike. No. Please, no.
The sounds were getting louder. Closer. Boot-sole on stone and shouted anger echoed shallowly in her ears, and she wrenched hard at the door, nearly pulling it from its eroded hinges with strength born of sheer desperation.
It opened only slightly, but it was all the space Sera needed. She threw herself inside, caught herself roughly on cracked, aging steps and spared only a small whimper for the pain as she pulled herself upright and fled deeper into the heart of the castle.
Darkness reigned inside the once-majestic structure, but she didn't need the light, pelting around sharp corners and vaulting gaps in ancient stone with the ease afforded her by intimate familiarity. She'd walked this path countless times, nine years of scattered visits and friendly guidance painting a vivid map in the depths of her memory, and her panic only lent her even more swiftness that soon led her up the last stairs (creaky wood, these ones were, as opposed to the worn-down stone tiny feet had so often slipped on in her childhood) and to the very highest point, the pinnacle of Ohtori Castle's single lofty tower. There, and only there, did she cease to run, collapsing to her knees on the splintered oaken floor and wrapping her arms tight around herself, gasping for breath and trying frantically to rub the rain-chill from her bare arms.
It was all wrong. Everything was gone. Her only safe haven was safe no longer, twisted by some unseen force into this malevolent parody of itself.
And yet, when she caught her breath and dared to raise her eyes, one thing still remained - a cracked, filthy vessel on the windowsill, filled haphazardly with earth and a single golden flower, its petals sagging earthward as if in profound exhaustion.
...The last one. The very last one, she realized, and her eyes grew hot, pain twisting her chest. You knew, didn't you? You knew it would all be over today.
The voices came again, spiraling upward from below and growing ever louder, but Sera paid them no more heed, putting her face in her hands and willing herself not to cry.
There was no struggling, no fighting, not even the softest peep of protest from her, when she was surrounded and pulled to her feet, and they seemed satisfied enough, prodding her roughly from the tower and back through corridors that suddenly seemed so cold and unforgiving to emerge into sudden harsh sunlight. The rain had stopped, and in its wake, the castle glared down on her, an empty husk of memories withering away in the face of reality.
They were nearly out the gate when she stole one last glance back at the tower, and though she never so much as twitched an eyelash, she could feel a deep, profound rage welling up in her chest; lying on the flagstones of the courtyard, so far beneath the tower window, was a pile of shards and soil and sickly gold, all that remained of the flower that someone had so carelessly knocked from the sill.
The anger warmed her, sparked an unshakable determination behind her impassive mask.
No more.
Even years later, they wouldn't be able to explain just how she had slipped by, but that very same day, Sera Cecille disappeared from the Communion of Gurhal for good.
