MultiPets: Chimera Knight
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Nicholas DeVivo
Aug 23, 2008, 1:38:08 AM8/23/08
to Fiction Writer's Guild
I decided to start over with this story, so I could redesign her home
town into something more resembling a Native American Indian village.
I didn't actually visit the village in this piece, but I felt I could
use some feedback on it just the same. These are the first five (ten
double-spaced) pages of the new story. The tildes (~) used in place
of quotation marks towards the end are intended to indicate empathic
communication.
MultiPets: Chimera Knight
Chapter 1, Act 1: Opening Ceremonies
By Nicholas DeVivo
The beat of jungle drums at midnight. The light of flames illuminate
the dancers in iridescent orange. Around the bonfire they go, keeping
with the wild rhythm. High-stepping, heads low, caricature animal
headdresses shaking. Between them and the flames stands the high
priest and a young maiden, facing each other. He all but towered over
her, his height compounded by the eagle headdress he wore. She,
wearing little more than a buckskin tunic, glared back at the eagle.
Her hard expression hid her anxiety, yet she stood there as if she
would be looming over him if given half the chance.
“Katrina,” the priest’s deep voice boomed, projecting to the audience
beyond the dancing circle. “The rise of the moon this night marks the
passing of sixteen years since your emergence into the light of this
world. Your childhood is but a memory, and your adulthood looms
nigh. Tonight is but the first step in your great quest of life.
This is not a step taken lightly. From this night on, your life and
the lives you touch are your responsibility. Are you ready to
commence the Rite of Initiation?”
“I am,” Katrina replied loudly.
The priest gestured to the roaring flames. “Then cast off the mantle
of childhood, and keep. only the memories with you.”
Katrina removed her tunic, her long, black hair cascading over her
bare shoulders as she pulled it over her head. Light and shadow cast
over the lean, toned muscles previously concealed by the garment. A
cat-call echoed its way from the peanut gallery. Katrina snorted, an
almost-failed attempt to keep from laughing, and tossed the tunic into
the fire.
The priest drew a ceremonial dagger and held it against Katrina’s bare
chest. “Have you memorized your oath?”
“I have,” Katrina replied.
“Then recite it now,” the priest commanded.
Katrina took the dagger, holding it flat against her chest. “I swear,
by the Pantheon, by the Terra Guardians of Earth, Fire, Water, and
Air, and by the blood coursing through my veins, I will seize my
destiny. I will forge my path in the world, protect those I find
along the way, and leave the world a better place than when I found
it.”
“Are you prepared to abide by this oath?” the priest asked. “Prepared
live by the virtues you swore to?”
“I am,” Katrina replied.
“Then dress yourself in the vestments of adulthood,” the priest
commanded.
These clothes had been placed at Katrina’s feet at the beginning of
the ceremony, and she stooped down now to put them on. First was a
pair of thigh-length buckskin shorts, with decorative stitching in
red, black, yellow, and blue going down the hemlines and around the
waistband and cuffs. Next was a hip-length, sleeveless buckskin
tunic, designed in much the same way as the shorts, with the pattern
down the front as well. After that, she strapped on a pair of
moccasin boots and fingerless gloves. Lastly, she took a ribbon and
tied her hair back into a ponytail.
As soon as she had finished, the drum beats stopped and the dancers
dropped to their knees. Just as the priest was about to speak again,
the howl of a lone wolf pierced the silence. A coincidence it may be,
but such things are often considered omens. To many, the cry of a
wolf is a sign of ill portent. Katrina merely glanced out to the
woods with a conspiratorial smirk. She was certain destiny was on her
side.
“The Rite of Initiation has begun,” the priest announced. He was not
as confident about this scenario as Katrina anymore. He had already
discussed this before the ceremony with her, but, though he was
professional enough not to show it, the wolf had given him cause for
concern. What he said next was traditionally part of a girl’s
ceremony, but Katrina had requested to skip it as was her
prerogative. “As a woman of the village, you are allowed a guardian.
Do you wish to name one now?”
Katrina shot him a bemused glance. “No. I will go alone.”
“Are you certain?” the priest asked. “Many dangers lurk in the
forest, especially at night.”
“I am certain,” Katrina replied. The priest considered pressing her
further, as wolves posed a danger regardless of gender, but he could
her grip tightening on the handle of the ceremonial dagger. There was
no talking her out of it, and he stood too much on ceremony to force
the issue further.
“Very well,” he accepted. He pointed toward the forest. “Go now, and
seek your animal companion. Do not return without one.”
Wordlessly, Katrina marched past the circle, beyond the parting crowd,
and into the dark woods. She had been in these woods many times
before, both day and night, alone and with others. She knew it like
her own backyard, but even so the forest at night, even with a full
moon like tonight, was a mysterious and foreboding place. Confident
though she was, she looked up at the sky, fixed her gaze at the star
Pantheon, and made a silent prayer of protection.
Katrina tread carefully through the forest for a good while. It felt
like hours, and she hadn’t met a single animal. Not terribly
surprising, as it was night and this stage of the Rite has been known
to last for days or even weeks. A few rare cases take over a year,
and the really unlucky ones don’t come back at all. Considering how
close that wolf sounded, however, Katrina was a little surprised she
hadn’t even met that yet.
Katrina stopped suddenly, her gaze meeting a pair of glowing, yellow
eyes in the shadows a few yards away. Their owner soon stepped into
the moonlight, revealing a gray wolf almost as big as she was. She
was fixated on the wolf’s face. Its eyes seemed contorted into a
perpetual, wide-eyed stare, piercing through Katrina’s soul. Its
trembling lips parted, its jaw practically forcing itself open to
reveal sharp, slobbering fangs. The wolf’s hackles were raised,
poised to strike, yet appeared forcibly restrained.
Katrina had seen wolves before. Seen them angry, seen them
posturing. This seemed very much like that sort of wolf, and yet it
seemed very, very wrong. Perhaps it was the way the wolf was fixated
on her, yet away from her, but the expression on its face seemed
unnatural and just seemed to get less natural the more she looked at
it. This terrifying unnaturalness had momentarily frozen her, keeping
her from fully realizing that this was not something you just stare
at. You prepare to run or you prepare to fight, neither of which felt
like a decided advantage at this point. Unconsciously, Katrina was
preparing to fight, her ceremonial dagger at the ready.
The spell broke as the wolf charged. Regaining her senses, Katrina
dove to the right as the wolf lunged at her, missing a full-on tackle
by a hair. Crouched, she took a moment to take in her surroundings.
There was a tree nearby that she could easily climb up to escape from
the wolf. The wolf itself was still pretty close, and Katrina didn’t
like to back down from a challenge. Then again, she never fought a
wolf before, and didn’t want to kill it if she could avoid it. And
that face…
She didn’t get time to mull it over as the wolf lunged for her again.
She swung her dagger, the wolf catching the blade in its teeth. The
wolf made a swipe with its paw, but Katrina caught it with her free
hand. The wolf was pressing against her, but Katrina managed to get
her feet up and shove it off her.
As the wolf was twisting itself back to its feet, Katrina bolted for
the tree, leapt up and grabbed a branch with one hand. Hoisting
herself up, she perched on the branch as the wolf attempted to seize
her again. A strategic retreat, so she may better gauge the
situation.
The wolf was behaving strangely. It clamored at the tree, snarling in
a vain attempt to climb up after her. Then it dragged itself back
before ramming the tree headlong. This was not natural wolf behavior,
and the wolf was far from heavy enough to force the tree over. But it
seemed intent on slamming its forehead against the trunk, then
grinding its head against it, causing shallow gouges to be left by
its… horn?
Katrina hadn’t noticed it before, but their was a small horn
protruding from the wolf’s forehead. Far from natural wolf anatomy.
Things seemed to come into focus suddenly. The wolf was trying to
remove the horn, and seemed to behave as if fighting against a leash.
Katrina came to the conclusion that the horn was harming the wolf
somehow, causing it to lash out. There was only one thing to do,
Katrina decided.
Katrina glanced up at the star Pantheon. Then, placing the dagger
between her teeth like a buccaneer, she leapt off the tree and landed
squarely on the wolf’s back. Wrapping her arms around it, she
wrestled it to the ground and pinned it. As she held it down, the
wolf still writhing and snarling in her grip, she reached up and
grabbed the horn with one hand.
The wolf yelped loudly as Katrina pulled on the horn. It was stuck on
good, but it came loose with a good tug. A thick, glistening, violet
strand connected the horn to the wolf’s head, and became taut as it
contracted itself an attempt to get the horn back in position.
Despite the wolf remaining far from placated, Katrina hazarded the use
of her other arm and grabbed her dagger. With a quick slice, the
strand was severed.
The wolf quickly bucked her off and dashed a couple yard before
stopping and turning back. Its face was decidedly non-deranged, if
slightly bewildered, and stared at her with a low whine.
Katrina looked a the horn in her hand. Violet ooze seeped out from
beneath it. The sudden emergence of six spidery legs startled Katrina
and she quickly dropped it. Standing, she gave it a couple good
stomps and ground her heel into the dirt. Lifting her foot back up,
she found the horn was now just a gunky, shelled-filled smear, like a
crushed snail.
Katrina groaned in revulsion before scraping her heel off on a tree
root. “These are new boots, too…”
A low whine brought her attention back to the wolf. It (or rather,
he, now that she got a good look at him) was now standing closer. The
wolf bowed his head, staring up at Katrina pitifully. She felt drawn
to him, a sort of instinctual pull. This was part of the Rite that
was always difficult to explain, and Katrina had been assured she
would know it when she felt it. It was that feeling, that click when
two people meet and like that know something very important just
happened.
Katrina walked up to the wolf and knelt down, placing a hand on the
wolf’s head. She took a deep breath and time seemed to slow down.
She quieted her mind and listened to the silence of the night. Amidst
the silence a voice came into being. Not one heard by the ears, but
felt by the heart.
~I owe you my life,~ the wolf said.
Katrina smiled to herself. ~Yeah, I know.~
~I must repay your for your deed,~ the wolf said.
~That isn’t necessary,~ Katrina replied. ~I was just trying to help.
There is one thing, but I don‘t want you to feel obligated…~
~The Rite of Initiation,~ the wolf remarked. ~Yes. I owe you my
life, and I intend to make good on it. From now on, I will be your
protector, and guard you with my life.~
~I don’t need a protector,~ Katrina remarked. ~And I don’t need a
servant. I will regard you as my partner, and we will protect each
other.~
~Very well,~ the wolf accepted. ~We will be as brother and sister. I
will be with you always.~
~Then it‘s agreed,~ Katrina said. ~I am Katrina. And you?~
~I am your armor,~ the wolf replied simply.
~Armor?~ Katrina remarked, playing with the word in her head. ~Then
that’d make you a "wear"wolf.~
~Indeed,~ the wolf confirmed, mirroring Katrina’s amusement at the
pun. ~Then you shall call me Wearwolf.~
“Awesome,” Katrina said, standing back up. “C’mon, Wearwolf, let’s go
home.”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
My question is, are there points where it feels like I obviously
forced the direction of the plot? For instance: In getting Katrina to
fight Wearwolf, in initiating communication between them, and in
giving Wearwolf his name.
town into something more resembling a Native American Indian village.
I didn't actually visit the village in this piece, but I felt I could
use some feedback on it just the same. These are the first five (ten
double-spaced) pages of the new story. The tildes (~) used in place
of quotation marks towards the end are intended to indicate empathic
communication.
MultiPets: Chimera Knight
Chapter 1, Act 1: Opening Ceremonies
By Nicholas DeVivo
The beat of jungle drums at midnight. The light of flames illuminate
the dancers in iridescent orange. Around the bonfire they go, keeping
with the wild rhythm. High-stepping, heads low, caricature animal
headdresses shaking. Between them and the flames stands the high
priest and a young maiden, facing each other. He all but towered over
her, his height compounded by the eagle headdress he wore. She,
wearing little more than a buckskin tunic, glared back at the eagle.
Her hard expression hid her anxiety, yet she stood there as if she
would be looming over him if given half the chance.
“Katrina,” the priest’s deep voice boomed, projecting to the audience
beyond the dancing circle. “The rise of the moon this night marks the
passing of sixteen years since your emergence into the light of this
world. Your childhood is but a memory, and your adulthood looms
nigh. Tonight is but the first step in your great quest of life.
This is not a step taken lightly. From this night on, your life and
the lives you touch are your responsibility. Are you ready to
commence the Rite of Initiation?”
“I am,” Katrina replied loudly.
The priest gestured to the roaring flames. “Then cast off the mantle
of childhood, and keep. only the memories with you.”
Katrina removed her tunic, her long, black hair cascading over her
bare shoulders as she pulled it over her head. Light and shadow cast
over the lean, toned muscles previously concealed by the garment. A
cat-call echoed its way from the peanut gallery. Katrina snorted, an
almost-failed attempt to keep from laughing, and tossed the tunic into
the fire.
The priest drew a ceremonial dagger and held it against Katrina’s bare
chest. “Have you memorized your oath?”
“I have,” Katrina replied.
“Then recite it now,” the priest commanded.
Katrina took the dagger, holding it flat against her chest. “I swear,
by the Pantheon, by the Terra Guardians of Earth, Fire, Water, and
Air, and by the blood coursing through my veins, I will seize my
destiny. I will forge my path in the world, protect those I find
along the way, and leave the world a better place than when I found
it.”
“Are you prepared to abide by this oath?” the priest asked. “Prepared
live by the virtues you swore to?”
“I am,” Katrina replied.
“Then dress yourself in the vestments of adulthood,” the priest
commanded.
These clothes had been placed at Katrina’s feet at the beginning of
the ceremony, and she stooped down now to put them on. First was a
pair of thigh-length buckskin shorts, with decorative stitching in
red, black, yellow, and blue going down the hemlines and around the
waistband and cuffs. Next was a hip-length, sleeveless buckskin
tunic, designed in much the same way as the shorts, with the pattern
down the front as well. After that, she strapped on a pair of
moccasin boots and fingerless gloves. Lastly, she took a ribbon and
tied her hair back into a ponytail.
As soon as she had finished, the drum beats stopped and the dancers
dropped to their knees. Just as the priest was about to speak again,
the howl of a lone wolf pierced the silence. A coincidence it may be,
but such things are often considered omens. To many, the cry of a
wolf is a sign of ill portent. Katrina merely glanced out to the
woods with a conspiratorial smirk. She was certain destiny was on her
side.
“The Rite of Initiation has begun,” the priest announced. He was not
as confident about this scenario as Katrina anymore. He had already
discussed this before the ceremony with her, but, though he was
professional enough not to show it, the wolf had given him cause for
concern. What he said next was traditionally part of a girl’s
ceremony, but Katrina had requested to skip it as was her
prerogative. “As a woman of the village, you are allowed a guardian.
Do you wish to name one now?”
Katrina shot him a bemused glance. “No. I will go alone.”
“Are you certain?” the priest asked. “Many dangers lurk in the
forest, especially at night.”
“I am certain,” Katrina replied. The priest considered pressing her
further, as wolves posed a danger regardless of gender, but he could
her grip tightening on the handle of the ceremonial dagger. There was
no talking her out of it, and he stood too much on ceremony to force
the issue further.
“Very well,” he accepted. He pointed toward the forest. “Go now, and
seek your animal companion. Do not return without one.”
Wordlessly, Katrina marched past the circle, beyond the parting crowd,
and into the dark woods. She had been in these woods many times
before, both day and night, alone and with others. She knew it like
her own backyard, but even so the forest at night, even with a full
moon like tonight, was a mysterious and foreboding place. Confident
though she was, she looked up at the sky, fixed her gaze at the star
Pantheon, and made a silent prayer of protection.
Katrina tread carefully through the forest for a good while. It felt
like hours, and she hadn’t met a single animal. Not terribly
surprising, as it was night and this stage of the Rite has been known
to last for days or even weeks. A few rare cases take over a year,
and the really unlucky ones don’t come back at all. Considering how
close that wolf sounded, however, Katrina was a little surprised she
hadn’t even met that yet.
Katrina stopped suddenly, her gaze meeting a pair of glowing, yellow
eyes in the shadows a few yards away. Their owner soon stepped into
the moonlight, revealing a gray wolf almost as big as she was. She
was fixated on the wolf’s face. Its eyes seemed contorted into a
perpetual, wide-eyed stare, piercing through Katrina’s soul. Its
trembling lips parted, its jaw practically forcing itself open to
reveal sharp, slobbering fangs. The wolf’s hackles were raised,
poised to strike, yet appeared forcibly restrained.
Katrina had seen wolves before. Seen them angry, seen them
posturing. This seemed very much like that sort of wolf, and yet it
seemed very, very wrong. Perhaps it was the way the wolf was fixated
on her, yet away from her, but the expression on its face seemed
unnatural and just seemed to get less natural the more she looked at
it. This terrifying unnaturalness had momentarily frozen her, keeping
her from fully realizing that this was not something you just stare
at. You prepare to run or you prepare to fight, neither of which felt
like a decided advantage at this point. Unconsciously, Katrina was
preparing to fight, her ceremonial dagger at the ready.
The spell broke as the wolf charged. Regaining her senses, Katrina
dove to the right as the wolf lunged at her, missing a full-on tackle
by a hair. Crouched, she took a moment to take in her surroundings.
There was a tree nearby that she could easily climb up to escape from
the wolf. The wolf itself was still pretty close, and Katrina didn’t
like to back down from a challenge. Then again, she never fought a
wolf before, and didn’t want to kill it if she could avoid it. And
that face…
She didn’t get time to mull it over as the wolf lunged for her again.
She swung her dagger, the wolf catching the blade in its teeth. The
wolf made a swipe with its paw, but Katrina caught it with her free
hand. The wolf was pressing against her, but Katrina managed to get
her feet up and shove it off her.
As the wolf was twisting itself back to its feet, Katrina bolted for
the tree, leapt up and grabbed a branch with one hand. Hoisting
herself up, she perched on the branch as the wolf attempted to seize
her again. A strategic retreat, so she may better gauge the
situation.
The wolf was behaving strangely. It clamored at the tree, snarling in
a vain attempt to climb up after her. Then it dragged itself back
before ramming the tree headlong. This was not natural wolf behavior,
and the wolf was far from heavy enough to force the tree over. But it
seemed intent on slamming its forehead against the trunk, then
grinding its head against it, causing shallow gouges to be left by
its… horn?
Katrina hadn’t noticed it before, but their was a small horn
protruding from the wolf’s forehead. Far from natural wolf anatomy.
Things seemed to come into focus suddenly. The wolf was trying to
remove the horn, and seemed to behave as if fighting against a leash.
Katrina came to the conclusion that the horn was harming the wolf
somehow, causing it to lash out. There was only one thing to do,
Katrina decided.
Katrina glanced up at the star Pantheon. Then, placing the dagger
between her teeth like a buccaneer, she leapt off the tree and landed
squarely on the wolf’s back. Wrapping her arms around it, she
wrestled it to the ground and pinned it. As she held it down, the
wolf still writhing and snarling in her grip, she reached up and
grabbed the horn with one hand.
The wolf yelped loudly as Katrina pulled on the horn. It was stuck on
good, but it came loose with a good tug. A thick, glistening, violet
strand connected the horn to the wolf’s head, and became taut as it
contracted itself an attempt to get the horn back in position.
Despite the wolf remaining far from placated, Katrina hazarded the use
of her other arm and grabbed her dagger. With a quick slice, the
strand was severed.
The wolf quickly bucked her off and dashed a couple yard before
stopping and turning back. Its face was decidedly non-deranged, if
slightly bewildered, and stared at her with a low whine.
Katrina looked a the horn in her hand. Violet ooze seeped out from
beneath it. The sudden emergence of six spidery legs startled Katrina
and she quickly dropped it. Standing, she gave it a couple good
stomps and ground her heel into the dirt. Lifting her foot back up,
she found the horn was now just a gunky, shelled-filled smear, like a
crushed snail.
Katrina groaned in revulsion before scraping her heel off on a tree
root. “These are new boots, too…”
A low whine brought her attention back to the wolf. It (or rather,
he, now that she got a good look at him) was now standing closer. The
wolf bowed his head, staring up at Katrina pitifully. She felt drawn
to him, a sort of instinctual pull. This was part of the Rite that
was always difficult to explain, and Katrina had been assured she
would know it when she felt it. It was that feeling, that click when
two people meet and like that know something very important just
happened.
Katrina walked up to the wolf and knelt down, placing a hand on the
wolf’s head. She took a deep breath and time seemed to slow down.
She quieted her mind and listened to the silence of the night. Amidst
the silence a voice came into being. Not one heard by the ears, but
felt by the heart.
~I owe you my life,~ the wolf said.
Katrina smiled to herself. ~Yeah, I know.~
~I must repay your for your deed,~ the wolf said.
~That isn’t necessary,~ Katrina replied. ~I was just trying to help.
There is one thing, but I don‘t want you to feel obligated…~
~The Rite of Initiation,~ the wolf remarked. ~Yes. I owe you my
life, and I intend to make good on it. From now on, I will be your
protector, and guard you with my life.~
~I don’t need a protector,~ Katrina remarked. ~And I don’t need a
servant. I will regard you as my partner, and we will protect each
other.~
~Very well,~ the wolf accepted. ~We will be as brother and sister. I
will be with you always.~
~Then it‘s agreed,~ Katrina said. ~I am Katrina. And you?~
~I am your armor,~ the wolf replied simply.
~Armor?~ Katrina remarked, playing with the word in her head. ~Then
that’d make you a "wear"wolf.~
~Indeed,~ the wolf confirmed, mirroring Katrina’s amusement at the
pun. ~Then you shall call me Wearwolf.~
“Awesome,” Katrina said, standing back up. “C’mon, Wearwolf, let’s go
home.”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
My question is, are there points where it feels like I obviously
forced the direction of the plot? For instance: In getting Katrina to
fight Wearwolf, in initiating communication between them, and in
giving Wearwolf his name.
Brooks
Aug 24, 2008, 2:32:11 PM8/24/08
to writin...@googlegroups.com
Thanks for the submission. I'll take a look at it as soon as I can.
Anything in particular you want to ask about it?
Also, are you still blogging this story?
Brooks
Anything in particular you want to ask about it?
Also, are you still blogging this story?
Brooks
Nicholas DeVivo
Aug 24, 2008, 3:21:34 PM8/24/08
to Fiction Writer's Guild
On Aug 24, 11:32 am, Brooks <scgryp...@sbcglobal.net> wrote:
> Thanks for the submission. I'll take a look at it as soon as I can.
> Anything in particular you want to ask about it?
>
> Also, are you still blogging this story?
>
linearly instead of jumping around to events that may or may not even
happen, so I'm thinking I should either clear the archives or start a
new blog so I don't have all this old junk cluttering up continuity.
Then I started thinking about copyright and ownership, and I'm worried
that if I post it to a blog the company that owns the service will
claim ownership. Maybe I'm just being paranoid on that point. My
brother owns a website domain, though, so maybe I can avoid all that
by posting on his site.
As for questions, I put them at the end of the piece. They should be
there, unless the line I used to divide them from the narrative caused
the message to be cut short. I doubt it, though, unless you're set to
cut signatures off of posts.
--Nicholas DeVivo
Brooks
Aug 24, 2008, 9:25:19 PM8/24/08
to writin...@googlegroups.com
You don't have to worry about the copyright, I'll look up the exact
verbage, but you still own everything you create. But remember that if
you want to eventually publish the story, you will have to admit that
the story has been published previously in the blog. Many magazines
wish to have first rights, so that is something to keep in mind.
verbage, but you still own everything you create. But remember that if
you want to eventually publish the story, you will have to admit that
the story has been published previously in the blog. Many magazines
wish to have first rights, so that is something to keep in mind.
Either way, please share your writing with us. Since we are a private
group we aren't considered published, so you don't have to worry about
that.
I look forward to hearing more about your stories.
Brooks
Brooks
Sep 9, 2008, 11:39:10 PM9/9/08
to writin...@googlegroups.com
Hi Nicholas, sorry this took so long, but here are my responces.
"glared back at the eagle."
I like how the girl is glaring at this object rather than the person
wearing it. It does make me wonder why she has this anxiety towards
this object? Is this anxiety also directed towards the priest? I look
forward to finding out.
"yet she stood there as if she would be looming over him if given half
the chance."
I am a bit confused with this line. Does this mean that her presence
is so charismatic that it equals or is greater than the priest's? Or
does she want to actually be taller?
“The rise of the moon this night marks the
passing of sixteen years since your emergence into the light of this
world. Your childhood is but a memory, and your adulthood looms
nigh. Tonight is but the first step in your great quest of life.
This is not a step taken lightly. From this night on, your life and
the lives you touch are your responsibility. Are you ready to
commence the Rite of Initiation?”
I love the language here, I can definitely see this in a video game,
and it makes me smile in anticipation of her story.
"Katrina removed her tunic, her long, black hair cascading over her
bare shoulders as she pulled it over her head"
I am a bit surprised that the ceremony calls for this. It definitely
makes me realize how alien a culture this is from my own.
"First was a pair of thigh-length buckskin shorts"
I was a bit surprised when I read this, does this mean that Katrina
was not wearing any clothes at the end of the ceremony?
"Katrina merely glanced out to the woods with a conspiratorial smirk"
I like how she shows her cockiness.
", the wolf had given him cause for concern. "
I liked how the Priest is rattled, but I'm not sure that I want to be
told that it was the wolf that rattled him.
"What he said next was traditionally part of a girl’s
ceremony, but Katrina had requested to skip it as was her
prerogative. “As a woman of the village, you are allowed a guardian.
Do you wish to name one now?”"
I was confused here. Katrina asked the priest to skip this part, but
he didn't. I would like to see why the priest ignored her request, is
he concerned for her? Does he think that she is not up to following
the oath?
"but he could her grip tightening on the handle of the ceremonial
dagger. "
I thought that Katrina was the only one holding the dagger.
"the wolf catching the blade in its teeth"
Any thought that I had of this being a normal wolf disappeared here.
". “These are new boots, too…”
I like the comedy you introduce here.
"~Armor?~ Katrina remarked, playing with the word in her head. ~Then
that’d make you a "wear"wolf.~"
I love puns, this one made me laugh out loud.
All in all I liked this new beginning. It gives me a insight into the
culture Katrina's people. I look forward to reading more about Katrina
and her adventures.
Brooks
Nicholas DeVivo
Sep 10, 2008, 4:00:46 PM9/10/08
to Fiction Writer's Guild
On Sep 9, 8:39 pm, Brooks <scgryp...@sbcglobal.net> wrote:
> Hi Nicholas, sorry this took so long, but here are my responces.
>
> "glared back at the eagle."
>
> I like how the girl is glaring at this object rather than the person
> wearing it. It does make me wonder why she has this anxiety towards
> this object? Is this anxiety also directed towards the priest? I look
> forward to finding out.
>
the priest here. Also, the headdress is supposed to be concealing his
face, so all there is to focus on is the eagle. I suppose I could've
made that more clear.
> "yet she stood there as if she would be looming over him if given half
> the chance."
>
> I am a bit confused with this line. Does this mean that her presence
> is so charismatic that it equals or is greater than the priest's? Or
> does she want to actually be taller?
>
part. Basically, she's looking at him as if he should be intimidated
by her. Physically, I mean. It's a confidence thing, like a
chihuahua taking on a pit bull. She might not look as tough or
menacing, but she acts like she is. The idea is also that she
continues to look like this, even when she takes her clothes off later
in the ceremony. Even when naked, she isn't vulnerable.
> "First was a pair of thigh-length buckskin shorts"
>
> I was a bit surprised when I read this, does this mean that Katrina
> was not wearing any clothes at the end of the ceremony?
>
(though by no means all the clothes she owns) is supposed to be
symbolic of discarding her previous way of life. She's getting rid of
the kid stuff so she can't go back to being a child.
> ", the wolf had given him cause for concern. "
>
> I liked how the Priest is rattled, but I'm not sure that I want to be
> told that it was the wolf that rattled him.
>
doing this out of concern.
> "What he said next was traditionally part of a girl’s
> ceremony, but Katrina had requested to skip it as was her
> prerogative. “As a woman of the village, you are allowed a guardian.
> Do you wish to name one now?”"
>
> I was confused here. Katrina asked the priest to skip this part, but
> he didn't. I would like to see why the priest ignored her request, is
> he concerned for her? Does he think that she is not up to following
> the oath?
>
a wolf could be seen as a sign of ill portent. Katrina is the only
one that doesn't see it that way, but the priest wants to make sure
she hasn't changed her mind.
> "but he could her grip tightening on the handle of the ceremonial
> dagger. "
>
> I thought that Katrina was the only one holding the dagger.
>
tightening..."
> "the wolf catching the blade in its teeth"
>
> Any thought that I had of this being a normal wolf disappeared here.
>
scene. All they have to defend themselves with are sharp, pointy
implements, and I thought it made sense to "parry" his teeth like that
and hoped it still suspended disbelief. She already had the knife,
and I didn't think she'd have enough time to grab a stick or something
before being tackled.
> ". “These are new boots, too…”
>
> I like the comedy you introduce here.
>
conscious, but I couldn't pass up the line.
> "~Armor?~ Katrina remarked, playing with the word in her head. ~Then
> that’d make you a "wear"wolf.~"
>
> I love puns, this one made me laugh out loud.
>
such a great pun, I had to tell somebody. Now, I can't think of
Katrina with any other creature. She just can't start off with a
Sabird (saber+bird) or Shieldillo (shield+armadillo). They call for a
completely different personality.
> All in all I liked this new beginning. It gives me a insight into the
> culture Katrina's people. I look forward to reading more about Katrina
> and her adventures.
>
-- Nicholas DeVivo
Nicholas DeVivo
Sep 12, 2008, 1:52:02 PM9/12/08
to Fiction Writer's Guild
I was just making some edits, and I thought I'd share them with you.
On Aug 22, 10:38 pm, Nicholas DeVivo <zeroo...@aim.com> wrote:
>
> The beat of jungle drums at midnight. The light of flames illuminate
> the dancers in iridescent orange. Around the bonfire they go, keeping
> with the wild rhythm. High-stepping, heads low, caricature animal
> headdresses shaking. Between them and the flames stands the high
> priest and a young maiden, facing each other. He all but towered over
> her, his height compounded by the
Added: face-concealing
> eagle headdress he wore. She,
> wearing little more than a buckskin tunic, glared back at the eagle.
> Her hard expression hid her anxiety, yet she stood there as if she
> would be looming over him if given half the chance.
>
> “Katrina,” the priest’s deep voice boomed, projecting to the audience
> beyond the dancing circle. “The rise of the moon this night marks the
> passing of sixteen years since your emergence into the light of this
> world. Your childhood is but a memory, and your adulthood looms
> nigh. Tonight is but the first step in your great quest of life.
> This is not a step taken lightly. From this night on, your life and
> the lives you touch are your responsibility. Are you ready to
> commence the Rite of Initiation?”
>
> “I am,” Katrina replied loudly.
>
> The priest gestured to the roaring flames. “Then cast off the mantle
> of childhood, and keep. only the memories with you.”
>
> Katrina removed her tunic, her long, black hair cascading over her
> bare shoulders as she pulled it over her head. Light and shadow cast
> over the lean, toned muscles previously concealed by the garment. A
> cat-call echoed its way from the peanut gallery. Katrina snorted, an
> almost-failed attempt to keep from laughing, and tossed the tunic into
> the fire.
Added: Turning back to the priest, she glared at him expectantly. She
was more relaxed now, less of the contemptuous expression from when
she was more tense, as if being nude was a small relief to her.
Indeed, it meant this show was almost done and she could finally get
to the really important part.
Changed to: “The Rite of Initiation has begun,” the priest announced.
He was not as confident about this scenario as Katrina anymore. What
professional enough not to show it, the priest now felt he had cause
for concern. “As a woman of the village, you are allowed a guardian.
> “Many dangers lurk in the forest, especially at night.”
>
> “I am certain,” Katrina replied. The priest considered pressing her
> further, as wolves posed a danger regardless of gender, but he could
Added: see
> her grip tightening on the handle of the ceremonial dagger. There was
> no talking her out of it, and he stood too much on ceremony to force
> the issue further.
>
After that, it's the same as before.
-- Nicholas DeVivo
On Aug 22, 10:38 pm, Nicholas DeVivo <zeroo...@aim.com> wrote:
>
> The beat of jungle drums at midnight. The light of flames illuminate
> the dancers in iridescent orange. Around the bonfire they go, keeping
> with the wild rhythm. High-stepping, heads low, caricature animal
> headdresses shaking. Between them and the flames stands the high
> priest and a young maiden, facing each other. He all but towered over
> her, his height compounded by the
> eagle headdress he wore. She,
> wearing little more than a buckskin tunic, glared back at the eagle.
> Her hard expression hid her anxiety, yet she stood there as if she
> would be looming over him if given half the chance.
>
> “Katrina,” the priest’s deep voice boomed, projecting to the audience
> beyond the dancing circle. “The rise of the moon this night marks the
> passing of sixteen years since your emergence into the light of this
> world. Your childhood is but a memory, and your adulthood looms
> nigh. Tonight is but the first step in your great quest of life.
> This is not a step taken lightly. From this night on, your life and
> the lives you touch are your responsibility. Are you ready to
> commence the Rite of Initiation?”
>
> “I am,” Katrina replied loudly.
>
> The priest gestured to the roaring flames. “Then cast off the mantle
> of childhood, and keep. only the memories with you.”
>
> Katrina removed her tunic, her long, black hair cascading over her
> bare shoulders as she pulled it over her head. Light and shadow cast
> over the lean, toned muscles previously concealed by the garment. A
> cat-call echoed its way from the peanut gallery. Katrina snorted, an
> almost-failed attempt to keep from laughing, and tossed the tunic into
> the fire.
was more relaxed now, less of the contemptuous expression from when
she was more tense, as if being nude was a small relief to her.
Indeed, it meant this show was almost done and she could finally get
to the really important part.
He was not as confident about this scenario as Katrina anymore. What
he said next was traditionally part of a girl’s ceremony, but Katrina
had requested to skip it as was her prerogative. Although he was
professional enough not to show it, the priest now felt he had cause
for concern. “As a woman of the village, you are allowed a guardian.
Do you wish to name one now?”
> Katrina shot him a bemused glance. “No. I will go alone.”
>
> “Are you certain?” the priest asked.
Added: He was ad-libbing now.
> Katrina shot him a bemused glance. “No. I will go alone.”
>
> “Are you certain?” the priest asked.
> “Many dangers lurk in the forest, especially at night.”
>
> “I am certain,” Katrina replied. The priest considered pressing her
> further, as wolves posed a danger regardless of gender, but he could
> her grip tightening on the handle of the ceremonial dagger. There was
> no talking her out of it, and he stood too much on ceremony to force
> the issue further.
>
-- Nicholas DeVivo
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