EtHR related: Sister

Title: Sister, how Yia, Hisho, and Kaori get in the Ferrezin backstory
Author: SilverInk
Writing: Background brief
Word Count: 1092



"I don't have a sister. Leave me alone."
"Hisho! How could you say that? Yia all but died for you! What's--"
"She's an Object, Kaori! Now leave me alone! I can do what I want!" The door to the small shack slammed, leaving Kaori outside, fuming.
Kaori's temper was no small thing to reckon with, but Hisho Nishanka knew he was an exception. No one could escape her wrath, but he was the master of the illusionist. He could decide who to punish and who to reward. The entire of Kaori was in his hands. 
Hisho stared at the small shack his sister had built when their parents had been killed. How, he wondered, Yia of all people failed her Assignment of Destiny, was a wonder. If he was completely honest with himself, she embodied all that was praiseworthy. Yet she had been condemned. And Kaori, who was cold-hearted and cruel had passed. 
But this reflecting got no one anywhere and Hisho shook his head, washed his hands at the handmade sink, tossed his backpack on the handwoven chair, and flopped on the handmade bed. Kaori would come over with dinner later, he hoped. He did not want to cook himself.
<<~~---~~>>


Upon arriving at her house, Kaori greeted her parents respectfully and then proceeded upstairs to her loft. She locked the door as usual, and finished her homework in the dark room. Within an hour of diligent work, she had completed her work and her studying. 
"Mother, should I cook dinner?" Her mother nodded lazily and continued browsing the television. Kaori accepted this without comment and went to make dinner for the three-person family.
<<~~---~~>>

Homework lying abandoned in his backpack still, Hisho searched through the sparse closet for clothes that would suit him. He would be leaving all this behind when he went to the Ferrezin Tournament, but he wanted to see what he might take with him anyways. His weapon, a rather feeble metal bat was propped next to the bag he had bought specifically to bring. Hisho had thought his plan through carefully: If he lost in the Tournament, he wouldn't be alive to spend any of his money anyways; if he survived and won, he would be rich beyond measure and the small coin he had now would be useless. He supposed he might as well buy a new bat and armor but that could wait for a while. After all, he didn't leave for another week.
He turned at the sound of a knock on the door and stood to open it. He supposed he could have just opened it with his magic, as Yia always did--Yia did everything with magic, it seemed--but Hisho quite frankly didn't see the purpose. That, and magic didn't come quite as easily to him. That was what he told himself at least. But truthfully, it was that he simply didn't care enough for it to work at it. 
"I made spaghetti for you," Kaori said, stepping inside. She set her dinner--now Hisho's--on the rickety table Yia had pieced together with help from a few temple folk. "Your favorite."
"Thanks," Hisho said and dove right in, thinking Kaori had already eaten--that's what she always told him anyways. 
"In any case, Hisho. I want to talk about your decision to join the Ferrezin."
"Not again, seriously?"
"Yia instructed me to take care of you. And by that definition I think sending you off to a dangerous fight thing is not at all good care."
"Well, leave it alone. It's been what, four, five years since she left?"
"...Yia undertook the Ritual of Holena three years ago, when we were 17 and you were 10."
"You're so serious about it."
"She was a good person."
"You mean, she believed your sob stories."
"No." Kaori's fist was balled up under the table in anger and frustration. Her stomach growled hungrily but she hid it under an illusion of sound. "No. I say she was a good person because she was selfless. Don't deny it!" she snapped at Hisho's rolling eyes. "She stayed up the night before her Assignment to take care of you because you were sick! And during her grace period, she did nothing but patch up the shack for you and sew you new clothes and make sure everything was stocked! How you could dare disregard everything she did is an amazement to me!"
"Yea yea. Yia was this, Yia was that. You don't listen to what the others say, do you? It's not like she was smart or good at anything really. She did her duty as a sister and that's it. You give her too much credit."
"Her duty as a sister was to see that you lived to the age of nine, Hisho! I've read the wills! She overdid herself. She was not a perfect student because she was always helping you with YOUR homework and studies. She never got the time to pursue her own interests because she was always working--running the mill, doing odd jobs--for you! Food, clothes, everything! You're an idiot!"
Kaori had stood up and was now pacing agitatedly. She sat back down in a huff and stared at the boy she had been asked to watch. "She should have left you to die. I should have left you to die. But neither of us did. And now you want to throw yourself into the most violent competition of all time?"
Hisho thought for a moment, looking down at his food. He let out a sniffle. "I-I- You know how Yia failed her Assignment... I'm already 13 too. Every moment I stay here is a chance for me to get my own Assignment...and I'm afraid I'll fail. But if I survive the Ferrezin, I'm granted immunity from the Ritual."
Kaori softened a little and sighed. "It won't be that bad. The Assignment should be do-able. It's nowhere near as hard as surviving the Ferrezin in any case. And you don't know that you get immunity. Just because Objects are granted amnesty doesn't mean you're granted immunity if you've never been an Object."
Hisho was silent. He looked up and though his eyes were dry, he had stuck his lip out in petulance and watched Kaori with wide, mournful eyes. 
"That doesn't work on me." Kaori crossed her arms. 
"You can't stop me anyways," Hisho said finally, dropping the act and continuing eating.
Kaori growled and stood up. She marched out the door in a huff. Outside, Hisho heard her say resolutely, "I'm telling Yia."


Artist's Note: For reference, this is about five years after "My Dark Haven," :) No, Kaori isn't supposed to be that nice.


So, another installment of EtHR related stuff! I haven't gotten around to painting Kaori's picture and posting it, but I'm almost done! >.<. I actually have a few preliminary sketches of Yia and Hisho as well, so I'll post them here when and if I actually get around to scanning, cropping, and fixing them a bit >.<


I'll try to finish Tsiyone's background story asap! >.<


Um.... there should definitely be a post next week... :/ I need to work on my college essays! >..,


Hope you enjoyed; please comment! 
~SilverInk


P.S. Sorry I changed the background again! >.< It was too emo for me >.< I'm "bipolar" o.O Or, as Mr. Jacobs (former Varsity Biology teacher) put, in comment of my love of scrawling "dipole- dipole FTW" and my volatile nature: "Dipolar"

Lucidity

Title: Lucidity
Authors: Lewis
Writing: Character story
Word Count: 520

She doesn’t know how long it’s been. She’s awake with not a thought or memory lingering in her mind, a gravestone washed clean of all engravings and blemishes. The still-warm blood coagulating on her fingertips and the weight in her lap hint that perhaps her last few minutes haven’t been spent in the land of dreams. She looks down. It’s a corpse. A young girl who, by the looks of it, might have been very pretty when she was alive- pretty, before someone decided to disfigure her until she was hardly recognizable. Maybe, she thinks, maybe I did it?

She’s not sure how to react to the notion. Something pure, righteous, and nagging declares that she should be atoning for her sins right now. Murder, done in the cruelest fashion. Appalling. She finds that being painted from head to toe in sticky red isn’t too disgusting. Strange. But what does it matter, when she doesn’t know this girl, and there is really nothing to feel guilty about? Really, all she is doing is having some fun.

With the leftover blood on her hands she paints the tiled bathroom wall: a toppled, butterfly-wing-shaped splotch for a heart symbol, since it seems like the kind of thing that would suit a girl the age of the dead one there. R. I. P., rest in peace. What was her name? She adds “beloved daughter,” because it seems to fit. She doesn’t know the date, so that too is omitted. And. What else was this girl?

When the body and the blood go cold, she reluctantly washes herself off in a nearby sink. The blood looks so pretty on white porcelain that she decides not to clean the stains off the sink, marks of her passing. She’s finished here, so after surveying the empty bathroom (where there’s no one else but herself, that blood, and those lifeless bodies), she makes her way for the door. There is a growing feeling of delirium: even as all of this is happening, she is being born. She is given a past, an experience, a mark on the world as proof that she was here. She exists.

It’s not until her reflection in the mirror catches her eye that she notices that she has no face.

Jule emerges from her dream like a drowning sailor breaks the surface of the water. Her breath is shallow, but it settles after a few seconds. It was a dream, wasn’t it? Just to be sure, she picks up the hand mirror laid readily on the bedside table and checks her reflection. Clear blue eyes blink sleepily back at her, fringed thickly with long lashes. They are almost covered by her long blond bangs, swept across her face in her sleep. The skin of her face is pale, and as she tilts her chin upward, she can almost see the veins in her throat, pulsing with blood. Normal. Normal. All normal. As long as she has a face, she has an identity. But without her memories, what meaning does it have? When the time comes, what will be written on her tombstone?

--------------------

It's kind of really messily done >.<

This is another writing-- um... a character's side-story, maybe? in prep. for Nanowrimo.

Jule has the ability to shapshift into anything as long as it's human, but she also gets amnesia every once in a while. So it's very confusing, and she can't remember who she was or what she used to look like.

I just wanted to try to get some insight into her ...more human, more vulnerable side before I begin portraying her as the "torturer of humankind" kind of person that she usually is. I actually really like her because she's like this. I mean, not that I would be friends with her in real life; she'd probably make me cry and then kill me.

...

Also, I will probably be submitting another character story on one of the other NaNo characters, Zetes (formerly Tophis Hayes), who is (a jerk) unpopular with the ladies.

I met the word quota this week :D

Silver : 100000000000, Lewis: 1

Surprise

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! :) 

"Angelic" excerpt 01

Title: --none--
Author: SilverInk
Writing: Story Excerpt
Word Count: 1263 

"Hush," he murmured quietly. "It is wrong to acknowledge those who have been deemed nonexistent."

"Deemed?"

"It is a complicated matter," he said, again shushing her with his hand. "I will explain later." 

Julian obeyed and shut her mouth before she said anything. The dwarves around her continued to stare through the person who had just been banished. The outcast screamed and hollered and once punched at the leader of the gathering. As if swatting a bug, the leader flicked the hand aside.

Finally, the pariah left, storming through the jeweled marble hall. A messenger had already gone to announce the decision. Slowly, as if coming out of trances, the dwarfish chiefs resumed their conversation as if nothing had happened. Jonathan leaned towards Julian again and translated:

“’The situation at hand is much worse than we have imagined, brothers. The humans have grouped with the angel-hunters and are murdering the peaceful houses as we speak.’

“’What of the elves, chieftain?’

“’Surely their Council is gathered in discourse similar to ours, Latvok.’

“’Who are they who sit yonder and watch this discussion?’”

Julian, who had been watching the dwarf chiefs as they talked, identified the speaker and stood immediately. She bowed politely to the table, her left palm over her right fist and her head inclined, and waited for the chieftain to tell her to rise. Beside her, she felt Jonathan do the same.

The chieftain nodded at them and said something terse that Julian recognized as the short version of the formal, “Your greeting has been acknowledged, my child; now take your stance as my equal and converse your message.” Essentially, he meant “Rise,” and that Julian did.

Next, the chieftain turned to the table and said something in dwarfish which Jonathan promptly translated as “’He is Jonathan of Winski, translator and companion for her, Julian of Winchester.’”

The chiefs’ reactions were immediate; so confusing was the next couple minutes that Jonathan could only translate a few of the exclamations: “’Winchester, can it be so?’

‘I thought the family had been murdered a decade ago!’

‘Another Winski?’

‘Do mine ears deceive me? A Winchester?

‘The angelic family?’

‘A Winchester? Alive and well?’”

The chiefs peered at Julian amazedly and some even inclined their heads in respect.

What’s happening? She thought, confused and embarrassed as she bowed briefly to each chief that looked her way. Of the 12 dwarfs, only one—the chieftain himself—did not glance her way.

The chieftain said something to Jonathan and the boy bowed before telling Julian in soft tones as the chiefs busied with their writing tables, occasionally consulting each other: “The chieftain has seen your confusion and asked me to explain to you the situation while the chiefs debate other matters.

“During the Firestorm Wars, eight of the dwarf clans had already been forced into hiding. Of the remaining four, one was secretly sheltering and helping the refugees that had escaped this way. The other three were in grave danger of being attacked by the zombies and the flying beasts of the war—the Vurgians. The dwarf clans had been cut off without warning and although they could battle, they knew they could not win. In a desperate move, they teleported child diplomats to the cities of the angelic, elvish, and draconic conferences.

“The angels at the conference were the closest people at the time, although the negotiations between angelics and dwarfs were bitter at the time. Of the nine heads of houses, only one—your grandfather—was willing to send aid of any kind.

“Eliam Winchester was a little-known general at the time and at the conference, it was decided that if he were to aid the dwarfs, he would have to do so with his own resources; nevertheless, he sent swift word that he would do his best to assist.

“The dwarfs were devastated. They were cornered and trapped, and no one but a single man was willing to help them; the elves had not received the message and the dragons were unable to assist. Already all the other clans were striving to help the three clans the best they could and armies were marching for the city of Turingskien, but it was of little use.

“Of Eliam’s 5,000 warriors, 50 agreed to go. Since Eliam himself could not come, his wife volunteered to go in his stead.

“After travelling at an unbelievable traveling speed for nearly a week, the 51 angels arrived in the midst of battle and helped to scare the zombie hordes away. If you want, I’ll detail the tricks they used later. Just know that 51 angels and 12,000 dwarfs drove an army of nearly 40,000 zombies and Vurgians away from Turingskien in a series of clashes that lasted probably over a month.

“For basically saving a fourth of their kind from ruthless and annihilation, Eliam Winchester and his wife Idwien was extolled among the dwarfs. Their opinion of him increased heightened even more so when after the war, Eliam himself came to join his wife and remaining warriors and oversee the reconstruction of the areas that had been razed. From his personal coffers he donated well over a half of the money towards the reconstruction.

“Thirty-five years after the war, when your grandfather had been stripped of his title for disobeying the Council and made little more than a peasant, the dwarfs stuck a vast mine deep in the mountains. From Eliam Mines they garnered more wealth than ever before seen in history. With their intervention, Eliam and the Winchester House was returned to their noble rank and former wealth. The following century was met with great friendship between the dwarves and the House of Winchester.” Jonathan closed his eyes briefly as he concluded his lengthy anecdote and took a long drink of water as Julian pondered this.

The dwarves disbanded for midday and Julian wandered outside, acquired her meal and strolled about the richly decorated dwarven capital. Jonathan followed silently for a while before leading Julian to a cavern.

“The Hall of Heroes,” he read and greeted the guards. They let them pass and Julian strolled quietly down the dim cave, fascinated by the various glittering shields and plaques and inscriptions.

“Here,” Jonathan called softly and Julian went to where he was standing, staring at a wall.

On the wall was a large chunk of obsidian rock, embellished with precious gems along the edge. Dwarfish runes spelled out in large print over the top and below them were 50 names inscribed in the stone, each with a small pink topaz before and after. Over the top, in diamond was the name, “Eliam Klaus Winchester”. Another plaque made of gold, diamond and ruby honored the general only.

Julian stared transfixed at the names for a long while, reading the 50 names that were spelled in angelic common there. Layana Nion, Nicodemos Palazar… Jeriline Suza, Ritcher Than… Roselyn Thyt, Rafi Winski, Francisca Zailier…I know some of these names!...Famous people my master on Earth taught me about…

She finished the list of names and walked another step, to where Jonathan was standing before a large tapestry, woven of silk with a single sapphire embedded between the reason of the award and name. Words had been embroidered on in the dwarfish language, with angelic, elvish and draconic translations in tiny font underneath. Julian squinted and depicted the angelic translation:

For leadership, wit and knowledge of medicine at desperate times,

For alone saving more than 2,000 lives during a month of combat,

For fighting valiantly while with child for no gain,

Idwien Nautium Sirica-Winchester

--- 

Artist's Note: So much to say/explain about this. I was toying with ideas for NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) and decided to try some stuff out. Obviously, since it's not November, this will not be an actual part of the story. I was just tossing ideas around. In case I feel tempted to post more excerpts, I labeled this one as "01"

This particular part started with a random status message I had. It's really unorganized as an excerpt, and maybe confusing at parts. Especially the way it ends. But whatever -.-

Julian Winchester is definitely going to be the protagonist, though I haven't determined what the boy's name will be; I put Jonathan because that was the first boy name that began with a "J" I came up with. Suggestions would be appreciated >.< (Requisites: Begins with a "J" and somehow  related to an element. (His cousins are Kassium (K; Potassium), Argent (Ar; Argon, although Argent actually means Silver) and Lithica (Li, Lithium) ) 

Anyways, please comment! :D

~SilverInk