30 June 2010

Vera Suis Background part 5

Title: Reestablishment
Author: Silver Ink
Writing: Character Background Story
Word Count: 1230

Jane Exina was right.

Life at Shalenfear Academy was much like I had always envisioned life for a student to be: School, chores, homework, and leisure time. In addition to language and math and science and history and magic, Souls were also drilled in soul-work and possessing objects or people. A few of us were selected to work for the Shalenfear Guard, a prestigious station of office. Chores consisted of keeping our dorms neat and cleaning the school every weekend. There were other positions, but Souls were exempted so they could train their abilities.

I was new, and a Soul.

Despite my lessons and Jane’s persuasive skills—using examples from my personal past as academic examples—my conversion was rather slow. Gradually though, I understood and embraced the principles of Cordelian life. By the end my first year in Shalenfear—and my admittance into the actual Academy—I was a successful convert.

I wandered, sometime soon after my arrival to Shalenfear Academy—after the conversion— to the main courtyard just in time to hear the following conversation about me.
“The new girl, you know. Suis.”
“Vera,” another supplied.
“Bright orange hair with the funny winged hair ornaments?” I recognized this boy—he was the top Soul in the class, known only as Bus Kandler. “Yes, her.”
“What’s so weird about her?”
“Don’t you know?” A pause. Someone must have shaken their head.
“She used to be part of the Revelin. Jane Exina found her living with a Native in the forest nearby. Rumor is that she’s a Revelin spy.”
“But Bus, she’s a Soul!”
“She grew up around the Revelin; an oddity.”
“Huh. I can see. Her powers too, did you see?”
“Soul-sending and Biological Control. Absolute possession. Scary.”
“I think she’s here to destroy the Cordelian government from the inside.”

“I am a Cordelian!” I shrieked, stepping into sight, enraged. “And not a spy!”

“You eavesdrop though, said Bus Kandler.

I clenched my fists threatening him silently. The group of students around him backed away quickly—the Academy had no policy against fighting. The weakest fell because of their inability to protect themselves. Unnecessary violent was prohibited, but this was provoked. The law of the school was on my side. Only Bus remained unfazed. “Go ahead, stupid ornament-hair girl. Give it your best shot.”

I knew I could not outmatch him in a battle of power. His telekinetic power was well honed, and would react faster than I could act; nevertheless, I attacked, sending the soul of my whole body—but not me—into a nearby boulder and attacking with the stone-concrete statue I now controlled. A few of the others charged at me, and I spun some of my soul-self back, letting the parts drop from the concrete body as I hit the closest with my fingers. Haphazardly, I hit under his ribs, and was whisked into an area I thought to be his diaphragm. It was a short journey to the lungs to pop a few alveoli and transfer a bolus from the esophagus to one of the bronchi, which is what I did. I cut the muscles of two more attackers, plummeted a third with a concrete foot, and drove two of them headfirst into the mud of a nearby planter with a friendly, “Enjoy” to the tree.

This time there was no Akeisa to stop me.

Bus was gone though, by the end of this. I saw him the next day in class, and we passed with a simple curt nod each—our battle had become academic.

I spent my leisure hours alone, honing my skills in the smaller courtyard outside my dormitory hall. No one bothered me there. Jane Exina came a few times, and only she would dare trespass on the territory that was clearly marked “Vera Suis and her only.” I did my homework alone too, for all of the four years I was at the Shalenfear Academy. But Jane Exina was still right: it was a home.

Graduation Day. I had turned out at the top of the Soul class that year, and had a grant to being working directly with the district Guardians. Graduations at Shalenfear Academy were not to be made a great deal of. There was no long speech; only the presentation of badges and other necessitated dignitaries. I passed on my role as one of the head Souls in the Shalenfear Guard and accepted the title of Guardian without much ceremony.

Beside me, graduating second in the class, was Bus Kandler. He accepted his gold medal—mine was made of Soul-steel—with a bitter expression of defeat and accepted the title of Head of the Shalenfear Guard. I clapped politely, my smugness thoroughly concealed.

In the end though, at the party, Bus tracked me down. We were standing about three yards from each other, me talking to a the sole Guardian that had attended and he glaring loathingly at me. He shrugged and pulled off the medal and tossed it at me, intending to ruin my moment talking to the esteemed Guardian. I reacted instinctually, sending a hand of my soul into the gold and putting up a blocking the disc with a shield the shape of a hand in the same material.

“You dropped your medal,” I said, picking it up with the large gold hand. The Guardian had stopped talking, and many people were staring. Bus looked at the small golden disc in golden palm and shook his head.

“You err, Guardian Vera. I meant to hit you. Preferably in the eye.”

A gasp sounded from those watching who understood—a Soul’s weakest point was generally his or her eyes. The Guardian present gave Bus an irritated stare. “Vera, show this insolent what those who reckon with us are treated to.”

And order. I really didn’t want to hurt him, but the order—and my knowledge of the punishment asked for—compelled me to do so. I nodded a single swift jerk of my head in acceptance of the orders.

Bus obviously knew the punishment as well and blasted the medal telekinetically at my eyes. Too slow. I had long since improved my skills: with lightning speed I transferred the soul of in the gold hand back into the medal to stop the path of the disc; the new, tiny, golden hand streaked towards Bus and tapped him lightly on the leg. In a flash, the muscles in both legs had been moved to his stomach and rear end, which provided good cushioning as he collapsed.

 He seemed surprised but any pit for him was replaced by irritation at his scowl. “Stupid hairband girl,” he muttered so quietly that only the Guardian at my side and I heard.

I reached my hand into the my hair for a moment, pulling the winged hairbands out of my hair in an innocent move. “They have a name.”

I tossed them lightly at him, muttering so he would know—and not make the same mistake again—“Estallos.”

If Bus Kandler wanted to get out of the stone prison that encased him—and he was lucky it was only a stone prison and not instant death-- he would need a few very good spellcasters who were willing to suffer the same fate as him.

The Guardian nodded a tacit approval as Estallos fluttered back to me and set themselves in my hair.

Artist's Note: I lied again! >_< But I promise the next one is the last part for Vera. I'm trying to figure out how to tie in the ending of hers into the beginning of the next character's. The next one will start off where the excerpt in the beginning of part I-- so long ago! :/ >.<-- left off. 

Cookies for whoever can guess who the two people in the beginning are, now that all major characters relevant to Vera's story have been mentioned. More cookies to whoever can guess the next OC in this to-be never-ending thread of background stories.

Regarding the post itself though, I am rather pleased. I discovered that I write best at midnight >_< I am throughly tired now, and my fingers are heavy from typing nearly non-stop for the last 3 hours (work and then the story) and I'm sleepy. So goodnight! Please read and review!
~Silver Ink

28 June 2010

The Bus

Title: The Bus
Author: Lewis
Writing: standalone
Word Count: 422

It is always there (the bus is), but you never notice it. The bus stops are not exactly inconspicuous, and the bus itself is even less so. Funny, because that cliché of the child protagonist panicking and yelping "I'm late for the bus!" is so widespread in media and such- you can easily picture it, but you never think it might apply to you. Funny, because today that exact routine-that-only-happens-in-movies might play out. That possibility remains for tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. Then next week.
It still feels like a dream. You pinch yourself in the arm for a moment, just to confirm that it's not. It's not.

Would it be okay to put the bike on the rack at the front of the bus like you've seen people do? You wonder if the bus driver would mind you asking some questions. They always seem so busy. What kind of mysterious secrets are there to be had in public transportation, anyhow? Referring to what Korean dramas, chick flicks, and action movies you've seen (not excluding that bus hijacking in Death Note), the bus is a place rampant with potential stalkers, mass murderers, love interests, FBI agents, or worse. Heavens. You're beginning to regret your decision to board the bus.

But you’ve arrived early, and that cliché scenario you were hoping to avoid has been prevented for today. One giant of a white van with “Route ****” flashing above pulls in front of the bus stop. Some of the people already sitting inside seem to peer at you with remote interest, but most just ignore you. The driver gives you an absent nod as he waits for all passengers to swipe their cards and board.

Whatever excitement it was that consumed you whilst you were fantasizing is definitely not apparent in anyone else on the bus- if it is, you can’t tell. You swipe your 30-day pass, feeling a brief sense of victory when it seems you have successfully swiped it, and choose a seat in one of the rows facing the center of the bus. All is calm and quiet once the driver continues on his route again, and you stare eagerly out the window. Hand poised on the wall, you wait to request a stop. You’re so self-absorbed that you forget about the mysterious other people on the bus until you disembark.

There will be others when you come back on the return trip, though. Comforted by the thought, you head to your next destination.

26 June 2010

Vera Suis Background part 4

Title: Conversion
Author: SilverInk
Writing: Character Background Story
Word Count: 1152

I’m ashamed to say I don’t remember much about that day when once again my life was altered. The Cordelians had no reason to suspect a man with his niece--living peacefully in the forest and paying taxes to the Cordelian government in the form of potato, grain or other surplus material—as supporters of the Revelin. I know not to this day why they came after us.

They had a strong mind-reader with them; her name, as I later learned, was Jane Exina, and she had been a part of the Revelin before being captured.

It was nothing like the army assembled at the village five years before. This time, only a few people were there, a few fighters, and a familiar face or two, from the trading in the city. We were caught unawares at night—they arrested Nem swiftly and threatened his life if I should attack. A soldier caught me from behind and held a knife at my own throat. He was close, very close—I could feel his breath breathing down on my neck, and his arm holding me flush against him. One of my hands was close enough to his leg; if I could only get the other close as well, I could get into his body via the leg; from there it was a short trip up to the brain to paralyze him.

The only Soul that had come with them—there was always a Soul or a pair of Souls supervising the Cordelian missions—examined the two of us, as if deciding with body to take over. Nem had just recovered from a cold, and was still looking quite sickly; he turned towards me.

It felt like my body was suddenly too small—like being in clothes that were too tight—and the world had gotten smaller. I could physically feel the other Soul wrenching his way in, pushing my soul out; like trying to squish into an already occupied seat—or in my case, being squished out. He succeeded, of course—he was much more advanced than I was—and it felt like I popped free of my body. It was nothing like what I was accustomed to doing in soul-sending and more like being shoved out a door than the usual launching-into-the-sky sensation. But I was still in my body, and could still feel my limbs. I tried moving them, but they were not mine to command, only mine to feel.

The Soul was experimenting with my body, lifting my arms and legs and shaking them as if to rid himself of a cramp. I was trapped in my own body, suppressed into a the size of a erythrocyte. But if anything, this red-blood-cell that was now me had a lot of mental power, which was at the moment fueled by indignation and anger. He began prowling through my brain, searching for indications of my power. Frequently I speculate what would have happened if I were not a Soul myself and what would have happened if Jane had not chosen that moment to intrude—she, being a mind-reader –a slight derivative of a soul-sender—blasted her conscious into my mind as well, and shifted through my mind even as I hurtled nasty insults at them both with my mind—which still had some control over my brain.

At this point I realize that for anyone but me, this moment is very strange and confusing. There is no way I can express each distinct feeling as it happened and as I felt it because so many were simultaneously. To compensate, I will call it a blur of action.

After this blur, I found myself—in the next distinguishable feeling—back in my own body, as I had been prior to the Soul’s intrusion. There was a faint dizziness, and I could not feel myself, but essentially I was fine. The girl mage—Jane—was chastising the boy about something in hushed tones and he was glaring at her as if her were superior. I glanced diagonally behind me at Nem, who had been tranquilized and left on the doorstep of his hut.

The Soul left, leaving me with my escort and the girl mage. He had a bitter expression and muttered something about getting her killed.

“Vera Suis,” she greeted, extending a hand. I didn’t take it. “I apologize for my companion’s intrusion. He is a novitiate, and has yet to learn the proper procedure. Come with me. I will ensure you are well.”

I didn’t want to believe her, but she took my hand and a feeling of calm washed over me. Weary, I followed.

When I next awoke, I was in a small dormitory, with a tray of food on a desk next to the bed I was laying on. As I dressed in the uniform lying on the chair, I inspected the broth for poison. Determining there was none, I ate greedily. The taste of the food was different, but not unpleasant, as was the feel of the clothes and the look of the room. A knock sounded on the door briefly and I whirled as the girl mage from the day before stepped in. She introduced herself, and my new surroundings, which she called Shalenfear.

Jane Exina was a partial Soul. She did not have the ability to completely take over a creature, but she could “throw” herself into the mind of another and search through their memories like a Soul. She had the ability of telepathy, as well as mind-reading.

And she, like me, was a Revelin convert, which was, as she put, “partially why [she] had the other Soul spare [me]”.

Jane Exina introduced me to Shalenfear Academy, where she lived as well, and assured me I would have a home there. I requested to return to my uncle’s hut in the forest, claiming the place did not suit well with me, and for some reason she agreed. We left immediately, Jane hushing stares with her death-cold glare.

“Your uncle left after the attack,” she said as we neared, and indeed the place was abandoned by the time we got there. I searched through the hut to find nothing, not even my glass figurines in their pretty wood/metal case.
“You will have a home at Shalenfear, Vera…they took me in when my parents were killed.”

“Why would I work for them? Why would I help the people who eradicated my family?” I spun on her, tears at the brink of falling.

“You can leave now if you want. I won’t stop you,” she said and returned to the front. I was in the bedroom now, facing the back door.

I hunted around the place, for any sign of something left behind—nothing. I thought I had been abandoned, again.

I stood up and walked out the front. “You’ll have a home at Shalenfear. I promise.”

Artist's Note: Technically, I posted twice last last week, so there was no missed update. Either way, this post is twice as long as the usual 500. But it's horrible. I'm going to blame it on writer's block and laziness and other stuff. 

But this is part 4, which is super-confusing and just a bunch of fluff in my opinion. Hopefully the last part will be better. Maybe starting another character would help too :/

Anyways, sorry for the lousy update this time -.-

15 June 2010

Surprise (this is not going to be the official title) profile

Title: ---
Author: Lewis
Writing: Character profile
Word Count: 380

Name: (unregistered) "Ives"
Gender: male
Nationality: (unregistered)
Known languages: mixed
Age: 28
Crime(s): grand theft, involuntary manslaughter (?), wire fraud, computer crime
Med info: Height: 7'0"
Hair color: black
Eye color: green
Discerning characteristics: none
Tattoos: none
Notes: damaged vocal chords (?), mute
# years spent in prison thus far: 7
Room #:

Personal history:
Up until his arrest, this person's existence was entirely unknown to the world- in fact, the only thing that slightly hinted at it was the notorious group IVES that existed only on the net. It had a reputation for selling hacking services at a 100% success rate. Although not many knew the actual details, the work IVES finished was so substantial and so damaging to various agencies (public and private alike) that it was put at the top 10 of IG's blacklist within a month after its first job.
IVES' activities continued to run for years- the actual number was never determined- until this man was convicted for unintentional manslaughter. Having perfectly concealed himself from the world until that point, he was understandably shocked when a common burglar bumbled his way into the man's home without noticing he was there and attempted to steal the computer. In an attempt to protect his location and his identity, IVES bludgeoned the burglar with a loudspeaker. He dealt a fatal blow, but the burglar managed to crawl out the window from the second floor, still clutching the computer terminal. His indiscreet escape attracted the attention of many passerbys (? Microsoft Works Word Processor says this is not a word) frequenting the area.
Following the burglar's death, IVES was immediately arrested. When he refused to disclose his name and his other personal information, the police declared it would be impossible to determine whether the computer terminal was really his. At that point, he refused to answer any other questions. Further investigation of the terminal revealed a connection to IVES's activities.
One former client came forward and offered more evidence pointing him out as the sole member of IVES.

Because the suspect's personal information could not be found anywhere, police decided to dub him "Ives."

Strangely, a group under the same name and description resumed activity two years after Ives's arrest.
*warden's note: reexamine his room for electronics

Lewis: So this is one of several profiles I'm making as part of a draft for a story I'm going to write. The wording is kind of weird to me in some places, and I'm still not sure if it all makes sense or not (I still left a lot of holes, but it's not a 10-page bio just on this dude or anything) or whether this is going to be set in the real world or not
Advice and ideas are welcome!!

14 June 2010


Author: Lewis
Writing: some sort of continuation to that prologue
Word Count: 448

Critics later speculated over the situation.
Was it possible that the entire mass of inmates that escaped the prison that night had only let themselves get caught in order to meet? They dismissed the notion almost immediately. Ridiculous. Many of the escapees had languished in the prison for more than just a few years- not a trifle at all when staying in the most heavily fortified prison in the world (where all had lifetime sentences), and definitely too much time for a mere greeting. After all, the world’s police agency had strived to the point of exhausting its resources just to put these criminals behind bars. It was probably just been a tiny coincidence that sparked the breakout, they concluded. The runaways would be recaptured in time. This is what the police told the public, and what they fervently wished to be true. There was just one problem. How long would these dangerous individuals be left running about?

The general public had been in an uproar since news of the mass breakout was released. The prison board attempted to quell the leak of information at first, fearing that people would break into hysterics and make irrational decisions, but it was too late. Within hours of the prison breakout, the world was in hysterics. Most didn’t know what to do about the situation at all-- these were criminals from the international prison, after all, and this meant that any possible attacks from them were not by any means limited to a particular location or country. Most of their distrust and hostility was directed towards the government, which had failed to properly detain the criminals. Of course, the (newly promoted) Chief Executive Burnham who had been somewhat indisposed at the time of the breakout was fired for being unable to react appropriately to the situation, and for killing an inmate.

In response to the people’s lost faith in the government, there arose multiple factions of people who claimed they could have better dealt with the breakout. It became not just a matter of dealing with the world’s unlawfuls, but also the protection of the people. The breakout had not only released a pestilence of criminals, but also a number of rumors harmful to the government’s reputation.

Hurried arrangements were made to organize special forces specifically for recapturing the escapees. New curfews were issued worldwide, and police tightened their patrol routes. Business slowed. Common crimes (ironically) died down. Families at home scanned the newspaper headlines, or the TV news, interrogated their neighbors, - anything, for a sign.

For the first few days following the breakout and the news leak that followed immediately after, the world watched with bated breath.

Lewis: Boo. Like this, I'm not sure if I can even hit 50k in a month. Even so, this is portion was just in summary form, so...
I've been having a lot of fun creating a bunch of profiles for various inmates in the story.
But coming up with a name for the prison is hard. I don't want it to be something too boring (even though the story probably won't focus on the prison itself)... and it can't be lame, either. Haha, know this- the first time I tried my hand at a name, I came up with "Hades International Prison." The acronym for it would be "HIP." D:
I guess I simply don't have Oda Eiichirou's (mangaka of One Piece) naming sense. Still don't understand how he got "Impel Down" and "Enies Lobby"...
Still having trouble deciding whether to put this in the "real world" or not.
Goodness, so many choices :)

12 June 2010

Vera Suis Background part 3

Title: Nem
Author: SilverInk
Writing: Character Background Story
Word Count: 972

I was tired beyond belief. Given my power, I could feel every drop of lactic acid stinging my muscles. My head hurt. I had scratches running along my arms where stray branches had struck me.

Still I pressed on.

The curse ensured it. Akeisa’s “Go west,” continued to press me westward. Even when I was struggling to stand, the curse urged west. It took a giant effort just to stop at a fountain and drink. I was staggering, slowly, but as long as I continued west, the complaints didn’t start. Still, no relief.

“Stop!” a voice called. I halted, glad for the order, almost uncaring who it was that stopped me. A figure made its way towards me, and I could tell through my blurry, spotted vision that it was a man with orange-brown hair, only slightly darker than my orange. “Come with me.”

I didn’t complain and submitted to the order. He led me to a hut in the forest, next to the river I had been following west. Staggering through the doorway, I watched as he set me down on a soft mat, and then heard running water. He handed me a glass, and I drank. When I had downed the glass, he gave me another, along with a crust of fresh bread. “Eat,” he commanded needlessly. When I was finished with that as well, he led me to another room, and left me alone. Too tired to complain or suspect, I slipped into a dreamless sleep.

When I woke up, the man was gone, and I crept up, intending to leave. I was on my way out the front when a photo caught my eye.

I scrutinized the photo and determined it was indeed my dead mother, arm in arm with the man who had rescued me. On her other side was Father, who was also surely dead as well now.

“You’re up,” a voice noted and I whirled from the photo. “Eat,” he said, pointing at food on the table. I sat in the seat he indicated and ate.

“Thank you,” I said when I was done. “Sorry, but who are you and why are you helping me?”

“My name is Nem Suis,” he said. “I’m your uncle. Your father is my older brother, and Cora was my friend when we were little. What did they name you?”

“Veraline,” I replied, watching him and wondering how he knew about me. Father had occasionally mentioned a brother, but I had always thought him captured or dead.

“I’ll have to call you Vera then,” he said after a moment.


“The ‘-line’ part would identify you as a part of the Revelin.”

I asked him how. He gave me a long explanation I had no interest in and to save time I consented. “You joined the Cordelians,” I accused.

He shook his head but did not answer. I was about to bolt out the door but stopped when he called me offered a pile of clothing. “We’ll need to wash what you have on, Vera,” he said. “Go change.” I started to argue, but he said, “Don’t argue, go change.”

It was like he knew I was obedient.

I changed into the tan dress and returned with my old clothes. He taught me first how to wash the clothes, then how to dry them, and then we headed in for lunch. After lunch he worked in the garden as I watched and learned, occasionally helping with familiar plants. When the sun went down, we headed back into the house and he lit a lamp. I helped with dinner and over rice and vegetables we swapped stories. He sent me off to take a shower as he cleaned up the dishes, and I wiped down the counter and table when I was finished. I unpacked my glass figurines under his scrutiny, and he promised we could build a case for them. Before blowing out the light, he laid down a few blankets and mats for me to sleep on. For privacy, he even hung a thick blanket through the bedroom for me.

By the end of my first day in Nem’s cottage, I felt like I had been living there all my life.

The next morning proceeded as if it were only normal I was there. We went over plans for the area as if we had lived together for more than the day we actually had. Plans were set to build a case for my figurines, to remodel the bathroom with a shower, and to harvest the grain in the back fields. I was to sew myself a cot and more clothes, and weave a proper dividing mat for the bedroom.

Nem worked in the fields in the morning, leaving me by myself. There wasn’t much to see in the three-room hut: the front was divided into a kitchen on the right and a living room on the left. The kitchen featured a small pantry, sink, and box that I figured was supposed to be a refridgerator. On the living room side was a deep woven chair sitting by a fireplace, and storage boxes with anything from cloth to knives in them. Past these two rooms was a small empty room with a privy and the foundations of a shower. The rest of the back of the hut was bedroom and food storage. I found a hammock chair on the back porch and settled there as I worked, thinking about what could have happened to Father and Akeisa.

I cooked lunch and dinner with a little trouble from the foreign ingredients, but as I was a quick learner and Nem a good teacher, I was soon working with the materials confidently. After dinner each night we played chess with a handmade set and discussed plans.

Once a month or so we trekked down to the nearby town and purchased materials we couldn’t make ourselves and sold our wares—wood carvings, woven crafts, and surplus food. It was my only times in cordelian society and I learned to deal with it. Nem was ambivalent to the conflict, and I accepted his views easily and happily.

In spare time, we worked on strengthening my magic and developing my abilities as a Soul; for a non-Soul, he knew remarkably much. Ironically, the only living things readily near us were plants, which were supposedly the hardest for Souls to possess; nevertheless, with Nem’s guidance I learned the complexities of my abilities.

There were times in the five years I lived with Nem that I longed for more company than my uncle, but they were ephemeral thoughts that were soon forgotten. Life was good, and I enjoyed it. Unfortunately, my life had a strange sense of humor and again decided to meddle.

Artist's Note: I lied >.< The conversion is next time I guess then. I decided to add this post because it's significant in the overall series. 

@Lyra--Thank you for your reviews in the last post :) To clarify:

The belief is that every being or object or whatever has a soul of their own. Vera's ability it sending her soul out of her body to take the quality of another's (Soul-sending). She can also "enter" the physical body of another living soul and adjust system's manually. 
A Soul is someone who possesses living things and takes over the original soul's task in thinking and controlling. They take on the strengths, weaknesses and abilities of the "host body" and govern it. The body's original resident soul is not pushed out, only suppressed. 

Somewhat clearer?

@Minsat-- :) <3

There were only two Souls in the attacking group, but there were other, non-Soul attackers as well that were not mentioned.

Yes. Vera's father stabbed the substance (which was the Soul escaping the dying body) but didn't manage to kill it, and was then possessed. 

>_< Sorry about all the errors, to everyone. I'll edit! :D Hopefully this post is better ;) Thanks for the reviews! 

11 June 2010

Posting on DiW

I realize the introduction to the blog was a bit vague about other writers besides Lewis or Silver (me) posting. Thus, a clarification: 

Lewis and Silver are the founders of the site, but other people can post as well. There are two ways of going about this: 

I. If you want to post an individual entry.
Say Bob has something he really would like to post online, but he doesn't want to do the whole "500+ words a week" thing Lewis and Silver are attempting. In that case, Bob would:
1. Write/type his entry. Must be 500+ words. There is no maximum word count, but please be reasonable. If necessary, divide it up into multiple posts. If the submitted entry is very long, you could divide it up into various posts (part 1, part 2, etc.) or request that Silver do it for you.
2. E-mail it to SilverInk at inked.silver@gmail.com, providing:
Author: (Alias*)
Writing (General Genre):
Word Count:
(Any warnings):
3. Silver and/or Lewis will read the entry over to for content appropriateness**; they will not, without informing the rightful writer beforehand, edit. 
4. If an edit is needed, Silver will send it back to Bob with comments. If not, she will send him a confirmation e-mail and post it on the site.

Title: Lollipops and Daisies
Author: PrettyPinkUnicorns
Writing: Rant
Word Count: 782
Warning: profanity

*For consistency, Bob would have to pick one alias. So he can't be "PrettyPinkUnicorns" for his first post, and "Mr.Chill" the next. Exception: he is willing to have the former alias posted as well:

Title: The Coolest Guy on Campus
Author: Mr. Chill (formerly PrettyPinkUnicorns)

**Common sense please. Fiction is preferred over nonfiction, and political criticism should be subtle. Acceptance is at the discretion of Silver and Lewis.

II. If you want to join the 500+ word per week challenge.
To do this, Bob can either start out by sending in individual entries (see above) every week just to get a feel for it and then after that apply for "editorship" (see below)

Or, he can submit a few samples of his work along with the following information about himself or online persona (not published...yet). Items with a ">>" in front are liable to be posted publicly.
Country of residence--

Other questions may be asked as well, but will not be posted publicly without consent.

III. Other Information

All posts must be literate and in English. The occasional lapse in grammar and spelling is fine, especially given most of these are first drafts, but readability is a must. Prose and poetry are both welcome.

It is recommended that a person seeking "editorship" start by posting individual entries, but not mandatory. 

Any questions can be asked via a comment, or an e-mail to inked.silver@gmail.com. Hope this all makes sense, and hope to see fresh faces soon! :)

09 June 2010


Title: Surprise

Author: Lewis
Writing: some sort of prologue
Word Count: 724

Chief Executive Alde Burnham slammed his office door shut in a huff, stalking to his sofa and reclining heavily on it. "Those inmates are really too much lately," he grumbled to himself. He began groping about in the darkness for the remote control, which activated the office lights. Having found it tucked between the sofa cushions, he then set about locating his briefcase. He flicked on the light switch. At the same time, his other hand came into contact with something quite warm and sticky. The room was suddenly flooded with light, and his neighboring seatmate on the couch was revealed. A shriek escaped his lips. He launched himself away from the couch, crashing against the low table set beside it in a painful heap. He averted his eyes from the gruesome carcass occupying the opposite side of the sofa and began to retch.

"Don't be so cold, Officer-- or should I say, Chief? I'd only intended it to be a housewarming gift. You've just been awarded a promotion and this office, after all." Burnham's uninvited guest drawled. He cocked an eyebrow at Burnham's cowed figure. "Although... as to how you got that promotion, I'll never understand."

"W-What are you doing here?" Burnham quavered, not daring to leave his huddled position. "I put you behind bars just a month ago!"

He laughed. "And what made you think that you were genius enough to put me there to begin with? You interfered with the investigation more than was necessary, and even complicated it further. And they made you Chief? My stomach still hurts with all the laughing I had to cope with after I found out about it."

"That has nothing to do with this!" the poor Chief managed to stand, wiping his hand disgustedly on his trousers. "Are you saying you let yourself get caught on purpose?" His voice rose in fury.

He shook with more laughter. "Maybe I did... maybe I didn't! Take it however you will. Would you like to know why I came to see you today, my dear Officer Burnham?"

"Yours are the ramblings of a madman! I'll put you back in prison, with one more crime to add to your record, and just like all the rest." Burnham drew a revolver from his pocket while backing away from his soiled sofa. "It's too dangerous to let cannibals like you walk freely."

Tophis Hayes was later taken into the prison morgue, dead from a gunshot wound to the temple. That night, hundreds of other inmates escaped from the prison, vanished like smoke while leaving heaps of slaughtered guardsmen behind. 

Artist's Note: ---

Not the Artist's Note: This is Lewis's writing that she asked Silver to post; according to the  part of a not yet fully developed plan for her NaNoWriMo Project. Due to some recent inconveniences, Lewis could not post herself so a proper artist's note (AN) will have to wait until Lewis edits this post :) Still, please read and review for her! :) 

08 June 2010

Vera Suis Background part 2

Title: Invasion
Author: SilverInk
Writing: Character Background Story
Word Count: 1800

When I was seven, the Cordelian secret police group invaded the village. We knew almost a week beforehand, and some were able to escape, but their scout crew caught most of the escapees. There was nothing to do but wait for the attack, fight, and hope we would win.

I learned why everyone was so scared of Souls.

There were actually only two Souls during the attack—Akeisa pointed them out to me from a rooftop one day before the attack. They looked like normal people, milling about with the rest of the attacking party, but Akeisa said they were able to possess others.

“Most Souls abandon their original body for a host’s body,” she explained as we climbed down.

“What about their original powers?”

“They lose them, of course, but they gain those of their victim.

I mused on this, wondering what it was like. “Can I try it out?”

She peered at me funny. “You wouldn’t need to ask. I’m not a Soul, so I wouldn’t know, but most just intrude. Some say the host’s soul is able to resist Souls in the early stages and even push them out, but it’s rare that it happens,” she said, striding ahead. I walked behind, wondering how I was supposed to use who I was as an advantage.

Thinking of my soul-sending abilities—I had noticed that a lot of me revolved around souls and possessing—I flung my entire conscious at her. It was awkward out of my body, but I persisted. My soul-self drifted near hers, and before I knew it, I—Veraline—was at the same time Akeisa. It was strange. I saw my body lift a hand, and the Akeisa-me raise a hand as well. The real Akeisa stared, confounded. “You must be doing it wrong,” she decided. “You’d have to let go completely of your body.”

“How?” I said, and the words popped out of both my body and the Akeisa-me body.

She shrugged. I returned to my body and the traces of the double fluttered back into its source—the real Akeisa—like any other soul-sending move. We walked in silence a while longer before I asked, “How does the Soul return to his or her original body?”

She shrugged again. We had reached my house, and stopped. There was a moment of silence before she reached out and shook my hand. “Veraline, they’re attacking tomorrow. I can feel it.”

I didn’t doubt her. Akeisa had the Gift of Auras as her power , and she could detect emotions and sometimes intentions.

“If we never meet—“

“Father says all the children will be sent away to escape. We’ll see each other then, right? And we’ll protect each other. They won’t catch us.”
She started to shake her head, then nodded, a tear escaping. Akeisa never cried. I knew something was wrong—even more wrong than she let on. “I’ll be coming with you, and guiding, most likely.”

I nodded, understanding. Akeisa was a clever person. She was waiting to determine the exact intentions and natures of the attackers to ensure the most advantageous move. “I’ll see you in the morrow then,” I murmured, shaking her hand. After a teary hug, she disappeared into her house, and I into mine.

Father in at home, for once in a rare time. He’d been spending more time at the house recently, helping Cora cook and pack. When I walked in, he nodded and drew away from her—it was clear they had been discussing something before, and possibly tears were involved, though I saw none.
“Veraline,” he addressed and I curtsied. “You’ll be leaving with the other children tomorrow?”

I nodded.

“Have you everything you want to bring?”

Another nod. I had already collected my few possessions—a blanket, a pillow, and my beloved glass figurines— and tucked them safely in a knapsack. Cora had added a load of foodstuffs, water, and hygienic materials to it, and determined I was set. Unlike the other children, I needed no weapon.

“Get some dinner and sleep them. You’ll need it.”

The next morning—the day of the invasion—I woke up early, nervous. Father and Cora were already up, talking quietly in the kitchen. After a solemn farewell, I shouldered my pack and joined Akeisa at the south gate. She had a similar pack on her back, as well as a belt of knives and was consulting a map. “Hello, Veraline,” she greeted without looking up. I fingered one of my braids.

“Where are all the others?”

“They escaped at midnight,” she said neutrally. “Without telling anyone.”

“Weren’t they afraid?”

“A few of them were caught,” she said, putting the map away. “We’re lucky it’s foggy today. You ready?”

I nodded, and she unlatched the lock. Without a backwards glance, we strode out, relocked the gate, and ventured into the forest, towards the lake.

We were almost at the lake when the first sounds of battle reached us; it was so soon we were both a little scared. At the river, we encountered another surprise—the group of children that had escaped the night before had taken the boat to the other side, leaving us with no way to get across.
Akeisa looked around for a handy vine or log we could use, and after a moment’s thought, I came up with an idea. With a hand, I absorbed the materiel of a nearby tree and enlarged the hand as much as possible. It still couldn’t span the lake. I tried using the other hand as well, and was able to make a makeshift bridge. We both scuttled across.

“Well, well, well,” a familiar voice said. We whirled, to find one of the boys from the village glaring evilly at us.

“Traitor!” I hissed, clenching the giant wood-hands into fists.

“No, he’s being possessed by a Soul,” Akeisa noted quietly to me. Seeing that she wasn’t looking for an escape told me that this Soul had commands to fight and kidnap.

“I’ll take care of him,” I muttered. “You go.”  I lashed out at him, sending wood splinters flying at him. The Soul laughed and I briefly wondered why he hadn’t even tried to pretend to be a friend. I swung another hand at him and he dodged again, leaping around the clearing with amazing speed. Suddenly, an arrow whizzed from behind me and struck him in the chest mid-jump. He was tossed against a tree heavily as two more arrows found their mark. A figure dashed up and stabbed the wisp of substance that floated out of the dead body, but the wisp didn’t fade. After a moment’s shock, I recognized my father as the attacker. Seeing no bow on him, I looked back and saw Cora across the lake with her bow, crossing the lake on the boat that my father had surely pushed back for her.

“RUN!” I heard, and did so, the wood-hands vanishing as I summoned my soul back into my body and following the darting figure I knew as Akeisa. The Soul had managed to possess my father, and was now racing back to the river to eliminate Cora. I saw a bloody slash of his knife, and a splash of red water before Akeisa pulled me out of sight behind a boulder. She was shaking, but she quickly undid one of my braids. I was about to ask if this was seriously the time to be worrying about hair, when she stuttered, “The braid. It’s a symbol of the Revelin. Take yours out. Hurry!”

I did as she said, and shook the two remaining pigtails on my head so it seemed that I had never had it braided in the first place. Akeisa did the same, and ignoring the brown mess as she dug through her bag. “Take these,” she said, handing me two hairband-like objects. I set them obediently in my hair, the vain part of me delighted with the way the “wings” on the stone looked and the sensible side yelling about the intelligence of worrying about all this now. “They’re exploding rocks,” she said, getting up and continuing to jog over the hill. “And they’ll reform after every use.”

“Thanks,” I said, as we ducked under a low branch and continued downhill.

“Don’t mention it,” she said bitterly. We ran undisturbed for a while, and then suddenly Akeisa stopped, holding her hand out for me to as well.

I mouthed, “What’s wrong?” but she ignored the question and told me seriously, “Never braid your hair again, Veraline.” She then recited a quick spell making it so the command would override any future orders I was given. Confused and scared, I said the reply, confirming her spell.

“Good,” she sighed, grabbing a couple of knives. “The other Soul followed us here. I’ll hold him off for a while—you leave. Go west,” she ordered, pointing.
Unable to refuse, I left the way she had indicated, tears rolling down. First my father had been possessed by a Soul, then my mother had been killed by him in his possessed form, and now my best friend was abandoning me.

The other Soul—also in a body from the village—entered he clearing as soon as I was a few trees away, hidden in the fog and behind a few trees.
“Akeisa,” he greeted, faking friendliness. “Come with me. I know where are friends are. Why have you undone your braids? Why do you threaten me so?”
Akeisa ignored him, though, chanting another spell. I was worried—spells were usable by any, as they were set by the ancient ones, but using one still drained remarkable energy. Already Akeisa looked fairly pale. Another one might kill her.
“My friend, what are you doing?” the Soul stepped closer, but Akeisa didn’t move, and only kept chanting. “Stop this,” he said, reaching for her hand, but she finished the chant—her left knife glowing white, she stabbed the possessed body with her right, and as soon as the Soul escaped to possess her, she swung the left at him with unmatchable speed, screaming, “ESTALLOS!”

I didn’t see or hear what happened next, because I was still moving backwards due to the obedience curse. A few moments later though, I saw a bright light shooting from the small clearing. The ghostly aura of the light was so strong that even though I did not have Akeisa’s ability to detect auras, I could feel the call of ghosts and spirits rushing out and then collapsing back in. Frightened and propelled by the curse, I ran.

Adrenaline coursing through my body, I raced westward as fast as I could, with little care about where I was going.

Artist's Note: Part 2! So soon? Yes. :) This may or may not be this week's post though...

Anyway, that covers the majority of Vera's childhood...next post will go into her conversion and the fourth will hopefully finish it off, with a return to the scene described at the beginning of part 1.

School resumes after a four-day weekend tomorrow =.= I don't know what to say besides wail about my grades :'( 

Please read and review!

EDIT 12 June 2010: Edited a little! :D Thank you for the reviews! Hopefully this is  better :)