Akatala
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- Posted: Sun, 16 Aug 2009 08:18:23 +0000
Author's Foreword: The following chunk of prose is the opening scene to a modern paranormal romance / faery tale. I'm working on. I wanted the scene to reflect how the lead male character first meets the mortal woman that is to be his soul mate. I wanted to spend little time reflecting on her since the setting is a lucid dream that the lead female character is having. For what it's worth, basis for the lucid dream comes from my own numerous experiences with such dreams. Anyway, my point is that this scene is intended to reflect mostly on the lead male, telling in hopefully just enough detail that the reader understands who he is, and from what viewpoint he enters the scene. Capturing a decent first-impression taste of what kind of person he is, based on my own artistic rendering of his world and its politics, is a crucial first step as I need the reader to know from the first page how the two characters meet, since I intend the rest of the tale to be filled with a very twisted plot that will obviously take a while to tell. So, those of you who offer constructive criticism, please take these intentions into consideration. Grammar and spelling errors that I missed are a welcomed point out as well even though this piece is a first draft.
Kierdon met her one night as he simply strolled through a myriad of mortal dreams, more in search of cures for boredom than hunger for emotion that he normally drew from them to brew into a wine that would empower himself as he drank it. At the end of it all, that’s all a faery ever needed was new energy taken from wherever to replace whatever had already been spent. Light faeries deluded themselves and the world with the lovely little lie that they fed on laughter and gaiety. The dark faeries knew the ugly truth. That was the one thing they never lied about. When they took energy from leaked from others to use for their own purposes, they made the prey quite aware exactly what was happening. The light faeries, they did their taking in plain sight. On the sidewalk, in broad daylight, in the middle of a bustling town, they disguised the hunt as mere play. Pretty flowers that easily lured in what they needed. The dark faeries, for as ugly as their motives tended to be, at least they had the decency to make the hunt less public. If they hunted in public, then they hunted in places where humans knew darkness always lingered, the night clubs, the bars, the casinos and dive halls. Otherwise, they hunted in smaller units, in the dark, and almost always in dreams where their prey were weakest and knew to some extent that they were being exploited.
Once upon a time Kierdon was like the rest of the dark fey. He hunted simply for what he needed and cared only for his own dignity. The end justified the means. However, as he rose through the ranks of power, Kierdon discovered a bubble of discontentment growing within him. He was meant for great things, this he always knew. He was once ruthless in his pursuit of power. Yet, that bubble seemed to grow as he did. A once ignorable flaw became a nagging need that he could not name. All he knew was that his destiny had shifted, and his aim slowly panned to follow the new path. One that searched the worlds for a treasure without a name. One treasure that would finally give him the crown he had earned. It was only after beginning to chase this new dream that he found himself discovering new insights about the universe he waltzed through that made him begin to question the politics of his kind. In time, he questioned his very own actions. Others saw him as one who was splitting from the dark courts and openly taunted him for it. That was, after all, the way of the faery folk. No other people in all the worlds made war quite the sophisticated, grotesquely beautiful, and intimately passionate art-form that it was to the faeries. It was, for all they did to seduce into believing otherwise, what they did best.
It was on a night when Kierdon had spent a great deal of time mulling over faery politics and customs that he happened to stroll into a dream already started by her own mind. He joined the shadows in the scene of a forest bordering a lake. Water lapped gently at the grit and cobble stone shore as a gentle breeze danced through the air carrying the scent of earth and dew. She walked along the beach, barefoot in a white gown that was more befitting medieval times than modern day. As she walked, she looked at everything, an expression on her face saying that she was confused by what she saw. Even the gown she wore, beautiful and painting her as the epitome of the pure maiden with its white fabric and silver accenting embroidery. Her hair, flowing in long waving streams cascading from the crown of her head, would probably have normally been a simple auburn. However, the night had turned it a strange muted dark chestnut by the light of the moon that shone above the lake. Her eyes were turned dark along with her hair to contrast against the paleness of her fairest of fair skin.
Kierdon saw her approaching the cape where he stood amidst rocks that rose up from the shore and trees that dared to grow among them. He knew from the moment he first laid eyes upon that all too innocent and alluring mortal angel that she was something he had never in his life encountered. It wasn’t a bold notion, easy to discern. It was simply something he felt as truth within that part of his soul warned him to pay attention as something important was soon to unfold. Whatever it was that was important about her, he simply couldn't, in good conscience, let it escape him. If it was to destroy him for his bold interception, then so be it. Kierdon lived his life for the moment, and at the moment, his life was something strange and confusing, in need of a catalyst for change.
Without hesitation, Kierdon glamoured himself into the form of a black wolf that took its place to wait in ambush in the shadows. Though he had begun changing some of his hunting tactics, one that never changed was the foreplay. Feeding without foreplay was like tupping without foreplay. Far too bland and boring to be of any use, especially for one at his level of power. The power was one thing he knew he wouldn’t need so much of for this run. A maiden was an easy catch. He simply barked then let out a low and drawn out feral growl that was his statement of challenge as he stared down at her from his rock.
The woman, close up, was a voluptuous one that most likely was anything but pure anymore in life outside this dream. He filed the notation in his head for pondering later of what she had been trying to tell herself before he interrupted. That is, if he still cared after the hunt. Yet as she screamed in initial fright then spun to pick his form out of the darkness, there was something in her eyes that immediately had Kierdon backpedaling for other ideas. Though he could smell the burst of adrenaline injected fright that washed over him like a heady invisible fog, Kierdon didn’t need his nose to know, this woman was anything but afraid of the snarling wolf she had discovered. Her eyes were wide as they met his own pale blue set, yet her hand lifted to her mouth as she seemed to find awe in his presence. Kierdon gave another throaty growl as he placed one paw so he could lean a little closer, showing his glistening white teeth in malice. Yet his attempts to frightened the woman only seemed to draw confusion out of her.
Indeed, as she stood a few paces from the rocks, the woman tilted her head towards the lake as she looked up at him and spoke, “Only one? And why come after me when the forest is sure to have descent game? Wolves never come after people unless they’re desperate. What’s wrong with you?”
This woman, whoever she was, was entirely lucid. Normally, that wouldn’t be much of a problem. However, this one seemed to to also be well educated about wildlife habits. Or perhaps it was something more. Maybe, some part of her sensed the truth as well. He wasn’t really here to feed as much as to simply interact in an on-going personal study of mortals in search of an answer. He had known the moment he set eyes on her she was different. He didn’t anticipate her doing the wooing as she walked into the water where she somehow managed to catch a trout and toss it up toward the growling wolf. Instinct had him shutting up to launch off the rocks, catching the trout as it sailed through the air, then landing on the beach to hold it in his maw while turning to stare incredulously at the woman who watched him.
Kierdon ate the trout, turning the energy she had somehow managed to form from her own dream back into pure edible energy. There was a distinctive spice to it that mirrored her scent. Her own personal imprint on the energy she had selflessly given him. It was like a hook that once swallowed, had him instantly addicted to the taste. After eating the trout, Kierdon eyed her with a new kind of hunger as he slowly paced toward the woman.
“See, I knew it. You were just hungry. If I manage to do that again, can I touch you? Why am I asking this? It’s just a dream!”
Her own indecision after the offer she’d made brought him to bark a growling affirmative to her question, his tail swaying slowly in hope. He could trap her here if he really wanted to, but somehow, he knew he wouldn’t need such tricks with this mortal. After all, she seemed to have seduced him rather well all on her own. This mortal, whoever she was, was special. Powerful. Alluring.
“One more dream trout coming right up. Tomorrow, I need to remember to talk to Rose so she can help me figure out why I’m standing here in a white ren-faire dress feeding trout to a wolf the size of a tiger,” she prattled as she sloshed back into the water to search for more fish. As it was she ended up catching two more trout out of the seaweed bed she’d found the first one lurking in. Both were flung through the air with the same unceremonious manner as the first. Both were just as easily caught and eaten by the wolf that was Kierdon. By the time the third one settled within him, Kierdon found himself somewhat buzzing from overindulgence.
His pale moon-silver eyes blazed brightly in the false dawn as he padded over to the woman walking out of the lake. His voice flowed from his mouth like warm rich honey as he spoke to her, “Come lovely. You have indeed earned the right to touch however you please.”
She gawked at him as she dropped to her knees in a smooth patch of sand, “You talk. With quite a voice worthy of wooing Red Riding Hood, I might add.”
He flopped to the ground, his head falling into her lap to let her coddle all she wished. The fingers that sank into his fur made him groan, “Grandmas are officially off the menu, replaced by ethereal lake trout caught by your.. oh so very talented hands.”
His groans of approval were joined by feminine laughter that played like a well-tuned crystal bell in his ears before she replied, “That is good to hear. I’m afraid I have no more grandmas left to sacrifice.”
“Cheeky witch,” he mumbled. When his eyelids finally managed to open next, he was back in his own world laying in a grassy meadow surrounded by forested mountains yet still wore the unique French vanilla mint scent of the human wench he had hunted. He could still feel her energy flowing through him like ice water, fluid and subtle yet possessing a lingering sting of chill. He would have to hunt her again. There was no choice in the matter. One hit had him so wired that for the moment, as he rose to go hunt his own kind to see how many he could send on to their next lives before his fresh power lost it’s power to drive him into lust for luscious crimson and the screams of those who thought it wise to call him weak for going solitary.
After thoughts: As I went back over the piece to make sure the formatting was all correct after being pasted in from Word, I noticed that I seem to repeat words, the romance is decidedly flat and redundant, and there is one sentence in there that is questionable in terms of meeting the pg-13 rating. I'm open to suggestions of how to make this rather flat scene a little more.. packed with emotions perceivable in the wording. The emotion seems rather forced and fake to me. Is anyone else getting the same reaction, or is it just me being overly critical again?
A Light in the Dark
Kierdon met her one night as he simply strolled through a myriad of mortal dreams, more in search of cures for boredom than hunger for emotion that he normally drew from them to brew into a wine that would empower himself as he drank it. At the end of it all, that’s all a faery ever needed was new energy taken from wherever to replace whatever had already been spent. Light faeries deluded themselves and the world with the lovely little lie that they fed on laughter and gaiety. The dark faeries knew the ugly truth. That was the one thing they never lied about. When they took energy from leaked from others to use for their own purposes, they made the prey quite aware exactly what was happening. The light faeries, they did their taking in plain sight. On the sidewalk, in broad daylight, in the middle of a bustling town, they disguised the hunt as mere play. Pretty flowers that easily lured in what they needed. The dark faeries, for as ugly as their motives tended to be, at least they had the decency to make the hunt less public. If they hunted in public, then they hunted in places where humans knew darkness always lingered, the night clubs, the bars, the casinos and dive halls. Otherwise, they hunted in smaller units, in the dark, and almost always in dreams where their prey were weakest and knew to some extent that they were being exploited.
Once upon a time Kierdon was like the rest of the dark fey. He hunted simply for what he needed and cared only for his own dignity. The end justified the means. However, as he rose through the ranks of power, Kierdon discovered a bubble of discontentment growing within him. He was meant for great things, this he always knew. He was once ruthless in his pursuit of power. Yet, that bubble seemed to grow as he did. A once ignorable flaw became a nagging need that he could not name. All he knew was that his destiny had shifted, and his aim slowly panned to follow the new path. One that searched the worlds for a treasure without a name. One treasure that would finally give him the crown he had earned. It was only after beginning to chase this new dream that he found himself discovering new insights about the universe he waltzed through that made him begin to question the politics of his kind. In time, he questioned his very own actions. Others saw him as one who was splitting from the dark courts and openly taunted him for it. That was, after all, the way of the faery folk. No other people in all the worlds made war quite the sophisticated, grotesquely beautiful, and intimately passionate art-form that it was to the faeries. It was, for all they did to seduce into believing otherwise, what they did best.
It was on a night when Kierdon had spent a great deal of time mulling over faery politics and customs that he happened to stroll into a dream already started by her own mind. He joined the shadows in the scene of a forest bordering a lake. Water lapped gently at the grit and cobble stone shore as a gentle breeze danced through the air carrying the scent of earth and dew. She walked along the beach, barefoot in a white gown that was more befitting medieval times than modern day. As she walked, she looked at everything, an expression on her face saying that she was confused by what she saw. Even the gown she wore, beautiful and painting her as the epitome of the pure maiden with its white fabric and silver accenting embroidery. Her hair, flowing in long waving streams cascading from the crown of her head, would probably have normally been a simple auburn. However, the night had turned it a strange muted dark chestnut by the light of the moon that shone above the lake. Her eyes were turned dark along with her hair to contrast against the paleness of her fairest of fair skin.
Kierdon saw her approaching the cape where he stood amidst rocks that rose up from the shore and trees that dared to grow among them. He knew from the moment he first laid eyes upon that all too innocent and alluring mortal angel that she was something he had never in his life encountered. It wasn’t a bold notion, easy to discern. It was simply something he felt as truth within that part of his soul warned him to pay attention as something important was soon to unfold. Whatever it was that was important about her, he simply couldn't, in good conscience, let it escape him. If it was to destroy him for his bold interception, then so be it. Kierdon lived his life for the moment, and at the moment, his life was something strange and confusing, in need of a catalyst for change.
Without hesitation, Kierdon glamoured himself into the form of a black wolf that took its place to wait in ambush in the shadows. Though he had begun changing some of his hunting tactics, one that never changed was the foreplay. Feeding without foreplay was like tupping without foreplay. Far too bland and boring to be of any use, especially for one at his level of power. The power was one thing he knew he wouldn’t need so much of for this run. A maiden was an easy catch. He simply barked then let out a low and drawn out feral growl that was his statement of challenge as he stared down at her from his rock.
The woman, close up, was a voluptuous one that most likely was anything but pure anymore in life outside this dream. He filed the notation in his head for pondering later of what she had been trying to tell herself before he interrupted. That is, if he still cared after the hunt. Yet as she screamed in initial fright then spun to pick his form out of the darkness, there was something in her eyes that immediately had Kierdon backpedaling for other ideas. Though he could smell the burst of adrenaline injected fright that washed over him like a heady invisible fog, Kierdon didn’t need his nose to know, this woman was anything but afraid of the snarling wolf she had discovered. Her eyes were wide as they met his own pale blue set, yet her hand lifted to her mouth as she seemed to find awe in his presence. Kierdon gave another throaty growl as he placed one paw so he could lean a little closer, showing his glistening white teeth in malice. Yet his attempts to frightened the woman only seemed to draw confusion out of her.
Indeed, as she stood a few paces from the rocks, the woman tilted her head towards the lake as she looked up at him and spoke, “Only one? And why come after me when the forest is sure to have descent game? Wolves never come after people unless they’re desperate. What’s wrong with you?”
This woman, whoever she was, was entirely lucid. Normally, that wouldn’t be much of a problem. However, this one seemed to to also be well educated about wildlife habits. Or perhaps it was something more. Maybe, some part of her sensed the truth as well. He wasn’t really here to feed as much as to simply interact in an on-going personal study of mortals in search of an answer. He had known the moment he set eyes on her she was different. He didn’t anticipate her doing the wooing as she walked into the water where she somehow managed to catch a trout and toss it up toward the growling wolf. Instinct had him shutting up to launch off the rocks, catching the trout as it sailed through the air, then landing on the beach to hold it in his maw while turning to stare incredulously at the woman who watched him.
Kierdon ate the trout, turning the energy she had somehow managed to form from her own dream back into pure edible energy. There was a distinctive spice to it that mirrored her scent. Her own personal imprint on the energy she had selflessly given him. It was like a hook that once swallowed, had him instantly addicted to the taste. After eating the trout, Kierdon eyed her with a new kind of hunger as he slowly paced toward the woman.
“See, I knew it. You were just hungry. If I manage to do that again, can I touch you? Why am I asking this? It’s just a dream!”
Her own indecision after the offer she’d made brought him to bark a growling affirmative to her question, his tail swaying slowly in hope. He could trap her here if he really wanted to, but somehow, he knew he wouldn’t need such tricks with this mortal. After all, she seemed to have seduced him rather well all on her own. This mortal, whoever she was, was special. Powerful. Alluring.
“One more dream trout coming right up. Tomorrow, I need to remember to talk to Rose so she can help me figure out why I’m standing here in a white ren-faire dress feeding trout to a wolf the size of a tiger,” she prattled as she sloshed back into the water to search for more fish. As it was she ended up catching two more trout out of the seaweed bed she’d found the first one lurking in. Both were flung through the air with the same unceremonious manner as the first. Both were just as easily caught and eaten by the wolf that was Kierdon. By the time the third one settled within him, Kierdon found himself somewhat buzzing from overindulgence.
His pale moon-silver eyes blazed brightly in the false dawn as he padded over to the woman walking out of the lake. His voice flowed from his mouth like warm rich honey as he spoke to her, “Come lovely. You have indeed earned the right to touch however you please.”
She gawked at him as she dropped to her knees in a smooth patch of sand, “You talk. With quite a voice worthy of wooing Red Riding Hood, I might add.”
He flopped to the ground, his head falling into her lap to let her coddle all she wished. The fingers that sank into his fur made him groan, “Grandmas are officially off the menu, replaced by ethereal lake trout caught by your.. oh so very talented hands.”
His groans of approval were joined by feminine laughter that played like a well-tuned crystal bell in his ears before she replied, “That is good to hear. I’m afraid I have no more grandmas left to sacrifice.”
“Cheeky witch,” he mumbled. When his eyelids finally managed to open next, he was back in his own world laying in a grassy meadow surrounded by forested mountains yet still wore the unique French vanilla mint scent of the human wench he had hunted. He could still feel her energy flowing through him like ice water, fluid and subtle yet possessing a lingering sting of chill. He would have to hunt her again. There was no choice in the matter. One hit had him so wired that for the moment, as he rose to go hunt his own kind to see how many he could send on to their next lives before his fresh power lost it’s power to drive him into lust for luscious crimson and the screams of those who thought it wise to call him weak for going solitary.
finis
After thoughts: As I went back over the piece to make sure the formatting was all correct after being pasted in from Word, I noticed that I seem to repeat words, the romance is decidedly flat and redundant, and there is one sentence in there that is questionable in terms of meeting the pg-13 rating. I'm open to suggestions of how to make this rather flat scene a little more.. packed with emotions perceivable in the wording. The emotion seems rather forced and fake to me. Is anyone else getting the same reaction, or is it just me being overly critical again?
