Project #71: New Characters!

We have beloved 'verses we keep writing in, some with over a hundred tagged entries to them, some with less than twenty, all created with tender loving care. This week the challenge is to come up with brand new characters, one a day, 100-500 words. You can go for a Sweet Valley-style exposition, you can go for the Hollywood introduction, or just drop right into the new person's storyline. Give it a whirl and see how it goes, and see if any of the new faces will make it in the crowd that runs the halls of Master & Madness academy. Good luck!

Overview #70: Color

Okay, so I will freely admit, I had a heck of a lot of fun with this one. I challenged myself to pick colors for the boys not usually considered in conjunction with said boys (DJ tends to be blue, Keith tends to be red or green, Gabriel tends to be gray, Tobias tends to be brown or black, James tends to be green), and I came up with some pretty startling but altogether fun results. My favorite scene of the week was probably DJ's, because as much as Nick's death is pretty much ipso facto part of DJ's story, I never did much with it, and it turned out better than I thought it would be, and it taught me some things about DJ too. I didn't finish out this week, but I'm in the middle of bar prep, so I'm going to forgive myself, and chances are I will fail next week, but hey - here's to writing as often as possible and improving as I go.

They say as long as you write every day you will improve, and I am writing every day - mostly to the tune of bar essays, but writing nonetheless. So I am writing. Just not always here, and not anything anyone but a bar examiner would want to read.

Ultimate fail...

Okay I must sincerely apologize to my fellow writers. I epically failed this week to get my posts done... guilt...

My only excuse is that I have been so busy. I work eight hours a day at my normal job and then come home and put in another 4-7 hours worth of training and contacting. I am so busy that I often don't get to bed until after midnight... and I'll be honest... It slipped my mind... I vow to mend my ways and I will do better this next week!

Please forgive me fellow writers...

White Fright

Most people were afraid of the dark, the black, the shadows. Gabriel had been afraid of many colors in his life - the blue, the gray, either meaning a gunshot on sight depending on his own colors. Gabriel wasn't afraid of the dark, though, not the way most people were. No, he was afraid of the white.

The whites of eyes and teeth bared in frozen, lifeless grinned, lips skinned back in eternally silent laughter, dozens of faces circling his windows so that when Gabriel rose in the night to draw a drink of water from the pail and sought the midnight sky, all he saw was the white, white, white.

For one moment he was still, terrified, sure they were the faces of the dancing skeletons foretold by the vodun priests. Too much blood had been spilt along these rows of soft-white cotton; souls would not rest easily here.

When Gabriel took a deep breath and looked closer, saw the faces had flesh, he realized he knew those white eyes and white smiles set in black faces. The Drummer Boys and Fast-Hand Jim, Smilin' Sam and Charlie Haystack. All slaves from Old Man Harris's plantation.

All dead and strung up along the slave barracks for every slave to see in the dawn. Only it was the black of night, and Gabriel had discovered them all.

For the first time in his life, he wished he could scream.

And then he smelled it, smoke, burning. He wheeled around, tore through the house, searching for the danger, and some of the others muttered sleepily, but he didn't find it. He turned, searched, but at every window and door he was hemmed in bodies, faces,white smiles, and he thought, They're going to burn us alive in here.

One of the women screamed, and as one the barracks woke; people poured into the safety of the darkness, of fresh night air, and there, in the middle of the fields, was a burning cross, and around it stood demons with pointed skulls, all arrayed in glorious white.

(345 words)

Green and Lost

Green, yellow-green, faded green mottled with red, green brown around the edges, green sticky and velvet like moss, green ugly like a fading bruise. Tobias tore through the undergrowth, breathing hard but silent, desperate to outrun the other boys. He knew his way through the forest blind, but the fear pounding in his heart and his lungs and his ears had blinded him, and now everything was one morass of the same color: green.

And lost.

Tobias dove behind a tree, winced at the scrape of rough bark against his skull, and waited. They’d come by, any moment, charge past like a herd of elephants, and then he could double back, climb a tree and search the surface of the forest, orient himself.

It almost worked. One by one they streamed past him, hell-bent on capturing him. And then one of them glanced sideways, and his green eyes gleamed with predatory triumph. He lunged. Tobias cried out, fell backward, went head-over-heels and face-first into a bed of ferns.

A boot connected with his ribs.

He couldn’t even cry out.

And then the green began to change, shift so it was almost neon, infrared, as if he were looking at light in the middle of the night through night-vision goggles, and then he realized he was seeing plants.

Outlined in heat.

He was seeing heat, the plants in shades of greens and blue.

And there they were, the humans, in reds and yellows.

Tobias threw his head back and howled.

(255 words)

Gray and Guinness

The world was a distressing grayscale, from the walls to the floors to the skies out the windows. Even the stones on the mountain and the very dirt were gray, gray, gray. When Angel had first told Keith he’d be training up in the mountains of China, he’d envisioned shaving his head and living with a load of blokes in saffron robes, but no, even his tunic and trousers were stone-boring gray.

One of the other lads had shaved his head, and the place had no mirrors, so there wasn’t even a splash of blue or red to liven his day.

Keith had been more than glad to get out of Ireland, away from the ashes (gray) of his past and the prospect of criminal charges and life in an English prison. He just hadn’t thought he’d miss the magic that was green.

Green hills and sky, green laughter and green smoke...he missed it all.

At night, when he lay in bed and stared up at the black sky with its gray moon, he realized that what he really missed was Holly.

And Guinness.

Seeing Red

Red. He’d seen true red in his lifetime, had gone without drinking or vice for a week to save up enough to buy a tube of red pigment, and when he’d first dared to squeeze a dollop onto his palette, his world had turned upside down.

No one had ever told him red could be alive -- or dead.

“What have you done?” He looked up at Søren, blue eyes solemn. Then he looked back down at the blood on his hands from where he’d pressed them against the wounds in Nick’s lifeless body.

Søren lowered the gun with shaking hands. His eyes were still wild with the chemicals. “He owed me money, man. You get that, don’t you? I know you were a good kid, Nicky, but --”

“I’m not Nick,” Dylan said. “He is.”

The red kept drip, drip dripping from Nick’s body. In the first few moments, when Nick had been gasping for breath, trying to say his brother’s name, the red had been alive, but now...now it was dead, and sticky, and getting cold.

Someone else - Torin? Brain? - said, “The cops are coming.”

Dylan said, “I’m not leaving him.”

“I gotta get the hell outta here --”

Dylan lifted his head, pinned Søren with a glare. “No! You - you’re staying right here, understand?”

Søren started to back up, and for the first time, Dylan understood what it meant to see red.

He was still seeing red when the police pulled him off his cousin thirty seconds later. He still had red on his hands when they took him down to the station, and he didn’t know why the red was blurring and browning and drying, and he didn’t know why he was crying.

(284 words)

Summer Rounds

Like burning shades of golden twine;
We dance in summer rounds.
An emerald sea beneath our feet
Whispers, as the sun goes down.

Azure mantle round our heads,
Pearl white clouds our crown.
Diamond stars to kiss our brows
As ebony night enshrouds the land.

Everything Blue

“I don’t like this one bit.” Christian swiped a hand over his forehead, and the blue mark glimmered; his eyes glowed just a bit, too. How had anyone ever believed he was fully human? Perhaps that was evidence of his father’s power, that people had just accepted that he was Ranolfe’s baby brother and not his son of an illicit affair with the Queen of the Wild Hunt.

Anna slapped his wrist lightly. “If you stop touching it, no one will see, will they?”

Christian hefted his new sword, looked down at his new armor. It looked just like his old armor, if a touch shinier and perhaps glowing again with that faint, surreal blue that was the mark of Quislai magic.

“They’ll see the color, though, won’t they?” He turned away from the mirror pool and sighed.


Anna was dressed as a servant again, clutching her harp. “What color?”

“The blue.”


“What blue?”

Christian gaped at her. “The everything blue,” he said, making a sweeping gesture to indicate his armor and weapon and even the blue mark on his skin. Then he saw that Anna was trying not to laugh.

She reached out, brushed her fingertip over the mark, and he felt it hum before it vanished from view.

“No one will notice,” she said. “After all, the sky is blue, as is the sea, and people rarely take the time to notice them.” She started back toward the manor house.

Christian trotted after her. “The sea is blue?”

Anna blinked at him. “Ah. Right. You’ve never seen it. Yes, the sea is blue, except for when it’s green.”

(270 words)

Project Assignment # 70 - Color

Lets use color as the vehicle of our stories this week. A vibrant colorful scene, a world of color, or one purposely devoid of colors. It can be story, poetry, anything you want.

Let's keep it under 500

Overview #69: Plot Kink

At first I was stuck for a plot kink, then I realized that I had somewhat set one up already simply by the fact that I had identical twins in my story, and it was already established that they get confused fairly often. So it was easy enough to pick mistaken identity as my plot device. But coming up with a situation to fit it was harder. I chose to set the story in their high school years because there is so much possibility for angst and drama over a confusion. Now obviously it didn't end up angsty, but I think it did bring a little more light onto Bryan's personality. That while he can seem unconcerned and carefree, and often unthoughtful, he does care about the girl enough to worry that she might think he had been lying to her on purpose, and what she would think of him when he told her the truth, and even if he wanted to tell her the truth because of the fear of rejection. He really does like her and doesn't want to lie to her, and the endless 'What if she really prefers Mark and that is why she likes me' type of thing. It was fun to run with for a week.

Overview #69: Plot Kink

I have so many favorite plot kinks that it was hard to pick, but I'd been messing with this one for a while during the crazy finals/graduation hiatus, so I went with this one. It was honestly difficult to arc the subtleties, nuances, humor, and reality (as much reality as there is) for a body-swap in just six posts, so I hit the highlights, and I had fun with this. It didn't turn out quite how I'd like, but then that seems to be the nature of the beast when it comes to writing 400-word bursts over six days. Nevertheless, even though the fun of the plot kink didn't get fully explored, I developed a sense of the characters, and it was good times, and I think more good times would likely unfold if I ever tried to turn it into a proper story.

I learned something this week, even if it wasn't what I had set out wanting to learn. Next time, who knows which twist I'll pick?

Also...game on to Madness, who finally gets to pick a challenge after all my dreadful procrastination.

Denouement

“I see you kept your end,” Niamh said quietly, looking her own body over. As promised, Niall had trained to keep Niamh’s body strong all year.

Niall nodded. “And you.” He accepted the spellbook.

“What did Declan say?” Niamh asked.

“We must return immediately.” Niall frowned; for one moment, Niamh thought she was looking in a mirror.

“You’d better say my goodbyes,” Niamh said.

“I’m sorry.” Niall squeezed her hand.

“Me too.” Niamh nudged him in the direction of the knights’ hall. “Your princes await.”

“I’ll make it brief so no one notices.” Niall returned the spellbook and ducked out of the alcove, drew the curtains closed behind him so Niamh could hide.

Only before the heavy velvet fell shut, a hand thrust into the gap and pulled the curtains wide.

“Hello there.” Aurelius, grinning, stepped into the alcove. Ambrosius came up behind him; his expression was grim.

“Your Highness.” Niamh started to bow, then fumbled into a curtsey.

“Did you really think,” Aurelius said, “that Ambrosius wouldn’t notice such powerful magic going on right under his nose?”

Niamh’s eyes went wide; she clutched the spellbook close. “I’ve done no magic, My Lord --”

“I daresay you have,” Ambrosius said. “This entire time, you were a girl?”

Niamh cursteyed again. “My Lord, I am Niamh, sister to Niall, your page --”

“The boy who just left is no page of ours,” Ambrosius said. “The entire time you served us, I could sense something was off, that your magic was disjointed, but now it’s back in place, and I see why.”

He knew? Niamh lifted her head. “There’s a good explanation for this, My Lord.”

Aurelius arched an eyebrow.

“All right, not a good one as much as one day I woke up and Niall had switched us and I wanted to be a knight anyway, and no one would have known, only now father is dying and Niall is to inherit, and I --”

“And you’re going to deprive us of the best page we’ve ever had?” Aurelius said. “Come along - we’ve bribed one of the barbers to cut your hair and a scullery maid to help disguise you. Quick - before Father notices.”

Niamh blinked. “My Lord --”

“When this is all over, maybe one of us will marry you,” Ambrosius said, and he grinned. “I’ll give that book to Niall. He’ll be interested to know that Father’s accepted my proposal for battle mages.”

I'm Bryan

Bryan straitened his tie nervously as he tapped Amanda on the shoulder. The dance was in full swing and he had been watching her for a few minutes from across the room. He swallowed in awe as Amanda turned to face him. She was in a floor length burgundy gown, a simple flowing design that accented her figure perfectly; her hair was curled and twisted into a simple up-do that left a few tendrils framing her face.

Amanda smiled brightly as she turned and saw Mark standing behind her. "Mark!" she said with surprise, "you came."

Bryan nodded mutely, looking for all the world as if he wanted to run.

"I'm glad you came," Amanda said as she looked him up and down with appreciation. He was in a black suit with a emerald green tie. She thought it was cute how he looked nervous.

"Would," Bryan had to clear his throat, "would you care to dance?"

Amanda smiled up at him, "I would love to," she said as she took his hand.

Bryan pulled her close and fell into an easy circling pattern as a slow song came over the speakers. He noted that she smelled of lilacs.

They danced in silence, but Amanda didn't mind the silence. It was nice not to have the pressure of finding a topic of conversation, to just enjoy dancing and being close to someone.

The song was over before Bryan worked up the nerve to say what he had to tell her.

"Thank you for the dance," Amanda said as she smiled at him. AS she turned to walk back towards the music Bryan reached out and took her hand.

Amanda looked down at his hand wrapped around hers and back up at him, a question clearly expressed in her eyes.

"Can I talk to you?" Bryan asked quietly.

"Okay." Amanda said.

Bryan guided her through the crowds of people to the edge of the room where it was quieter. "Now that you can hear me," Bryan said with a half smile, "I have something I need to tell you."

"What is it?" Amanda asked, her brow furrowing prettily in confusion.

Bryan drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm not Mark," he said quietly, "I'm Bryan."

Amanda frowned a little, "I thought you were Mark. Then Mark didn't come?" she asked, "He said he wasn't planning on it, but I thought when I saw you that he had decided to come after all," she finished.

Bryan blinked slowly, "No, Amanda. Mark is at home. I'm Bryan."

"Yes, you said that. Is Mark not feeling well? Did he send you to keep me company?" Amanda asked.

Bryan reached out and touched a tendril of hair, "Amanda, you never knew Mark," Bryan said. He watched as the information sunk in.

"You're not Mark," she said as she took a step back.

"Look, I can explain," Bryan pleaded.

"Then please do so," Amanda said as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Bryan took a breath and related the whole story. All the times that he and his twin had switched places. The mix up with Jason, and how as time went on he felt more and more like he couldn't tell her, that she would think that he had been purposely lying to her.

Amanda took in the whole story, listened intently to all he had to say. "So you are Bryan," she said at last.

Bryan nodded, "yes. I'm Bryan." He waited anxiously for her next words, watched as she thought through everything, saw in her eyes as she reached the end of her musings.

"So you can do more than 'dance a little.'" she said as her mouth twitched up into a grin.

Bryan let out a breath of air he didn't know he was holding and smiled widely, "Yeah. I can do more than 'dance a little'," he echoed as he pulled her onto the dance floor.

Tell Her The Truth

"What's been eating you lately?" Mark asked as he flopped down next to his brother on the bed.

"Do you know Amanda?" Bryan asked.

"Which one? There are quite a few Amandas at school," Mark said rolling his eyes. He was sure it was just another of his brothers crushes. It would go away in about two weeks.

"Amanda Hollingworth."

"Oh." Mark was taken aback a little. Amanda Hollingworth was not Bryan's typical girl. Mark reviewed in his mind what he knew of her. Pretty, studious, a little on the quiet side but very nice.

"I don't know her well," Mark said at last, "mostly in passing. What makes you mention her?"

"Because she thinks I'm you," Bryan said as he sat up.

Mark puzzled over this for a moment, "why would she think that you are me? Not that people don't get us confused all the time, but how did you two meet and why would she think you're me?"

"Remember that Dance Committee that you were supposed to be on?"

"Yeah. I vaguely remember that. What has that got to do with it?"

"Well Jason grabbed me one day after school thinking I was you and dragged me off to the meeting. I wasn't really paying attention and I ended up on the music committee with Amanda. She thinks I'm you."

"I don't see how this is a problem. Just tell her that you're Bryan. I don't know her all that well anyway."

"What if she thinks I've been lying to her on purpose, having a laugh at her expense."

"And what if she doesn't?" Mark asked, "what if she realizes that it was a mistake and let's it go."

"Then how would you account for me not telling her before that I was really Bryan?"

Mark was silent for a moment. After a few seconds of thought he said, "look, do you like her?"

Bryan gave him his 'are you that dim' look.

"Then tell her the truth," Mark said. "You can't build any sort of relationship without trust. You have to trust that she will see the situation for what it is, and she will have to trust that you had no intention of deceiving her."

"You're right," Bryan said as he jumped off the bed and walked out of the room.

"Of course I'm right," Mark said to the empty room.

Not When it Matters

"So are you going to the dance with anyone?" Amanda asked as Bryan stood to go an hour later. She bit her lip a little nervously as she walked with him down the hall towards the front door.

"Bryan glanced at her quickly, trying to gauge how he should answer. "I hadn't really planned on it," he said. This much was true. He hadn't really planned on going with anyone.

"I'm sorry you won't be there," she said as she opened the door.

"Look Amanda..." Bryan said as he turned to look at her as he stepped out the front door.

"Hm?"

Bryan sighed, "Nothing. I'll see you tomorrow at school."

"Good night Mark," Amanda said to his retreating figure.

************************

Bryan sighed as he closed the front door of his own home and leaned against it.

"What's with you?" Mark asked as he paused in the entry, a sandwich in one hand.

"Sometimes I wish I was you," Bryan said quietly as he bumped his head against the door in frustration.

Mark looked at his brother funny, "You practically are me sometimes," he said.

"Not when it matters," Bryan said as he stepped away from the door.

A Little

Bryan paused before answering her question. She thought he was Mark, and Mark was known for one personality, while he himself was known for having one completely different. Did she know Mark? Know how Mark would respond? Did she prefer his quiet spoken brother or would she like his own more open demeanor? Would she even know the difference? He wanted to tell her that he was actually Bryan, but didn't know if she would think that he had been deceiving her on purpose instead of it just being a mistake.

Bryan bit his lip as he continued to hesitate, trying to gauge how he should reply.

Amanda cocked her head to one side as she waited for Mark's answer. He seemed a little lost in thought, so she let him think.

She had heard that his brother danced, and was very good, but she didn't know if Mark also danced. She didn't know what to think of the twins as a unit. Not much was generally known about them.

"Mark?" she said as she touched him gently on the shoulder.

Bryan blinked and focused on Amanda's face, "I dance a little," he said at last.

Do you Dance

Bryan sat on the floor; his knees pulled up to his chest, and his back pressed into a comfortable looking bed, eyes closed as he let the music swirl around him. It had a good driving beat, something that you could dance to.

"Are we just going to make CD mixes and switch out CDs or are we going to take requests?" a soft voice said from above him.

"I think it would be fun to take requests," Bryan said as he opened his eyes and craned his head around to see the girl that was lying on the bed above him. They had met at Amanda's house a few times since the committee meeting to listen to music and try to settle on what should be played at the dance.

"Well at any rate, we should have slow songs that everyone can dance to, but also songs that encourage people to have a little fun," Amanda said as she sat up. She looked over at Bryan, "Do you dance Mark?"

Ideas and Plans

This is all your fault," Aurelius said cheerfully. He, Ambrosius, and Niamh - who, by this stage of her page training, served both of them - were huddled beneath a dense cluster of shrubs watching King Lars' men march past.

"I distinctly remember that this was your idea," Ambrosius said. "I was content studying barrier spells in the library."

"I meant Niall," Aurelius said. He ruffled Niamh's hair. "It's always the subordinate's fault."

"Yes, My Lord," Niamh said patiently. Ambrosius met her gaze, and they both rolled their eyes.

"What's the plan, O Genius Warrior?" Ambrosius asked.

"Why would I have the plan?" Aurelius asked innocently. "I'm just the muscle, O Future King. Shouldn't His Highness have a plan?"

Niamh said, "Ambrosius, you should start a fire on the far side to distract them. Aurelius can sneak around and cut off their rear and I...will shoot them. With arrows."

"Why does the page have a plan?" Aurelius asked.

"Because he's looking to make squire." Ambrosius handed Niamh his quiver. "Take my arrows."

"We need a back-up plan, of course," Niamh said reasonably. "In case one or both of you are captured and held for ransom."

Aurelius had gone to draw his sword; he paused. "Do you have to think of everything?"

"You're the king's sons. I must be prepared." Niamh shoved Ambrosius's arrows into her quiver.

"He's right," Ambrosius said. "If we get taken by King Lars, Father will -"

"Start a war," Aurelius said brightly.

"If I get taken, on the other hand," Niamh said, "you two can get home free." She started to slither forward on her stomach, ready to make a one-man rally against King Lars's troops.

Ambrosius caught her arm. "Are you mad?"

"It's the best plan we've got." Niamh looked up at him. "Have you seen how many men there are?"

"That doesn't matter," Ambrosius said.

Aurelius shook his head. "Niall's right. You're heir to the throne. You have to get home."

"Just me?" Ambrosius asked. "But we're both princes --"

"I'm the second son," Aurelius said. "I'll protect Niall. You go."

"But the plan --"

"Set the fire and go."

Ambrosius pressed his lips into a thin line. "No, Aurelius, I'm not leaving you -"

"Go," Aurelius said. He tugged on Niall's elbow. "Come on. We have to protect the prince."

Niall looked at Ambrosius. "Good luck, My Lord."

"Niall --" Ambrosius began.

She fired an arrow.

For The Day

Niamh came awake sharply, hand going for Niall's sword. She rolled to
her feet and swung the sword up, ready to guard.

Aurelius leaned in the doorway, smirking. "You're jumpy, aren't
you?"

"My Lord," Niamh stammered.

"I heard you had an interesting night at the pages' feast," Aurelius
said.

Interesting was one word for it. Niamh thought a better choice was
'embarrassing', given that she'd almost given herself away as a girl
and been mocked as a coward by the rest of the pages.

"Don't worry - I'm not one of the pages here to play a hideous prank on you," Aurelius said. "I've just come to inform you that, as Ambrosius is busy doing heir-to-the-throne things and I've scared away my own page, you shall be my page for the day. Get dressed and come help me with my armor. I'm training with the master-at-arms."

Niamh bowed. "Yes, My Lord."

Aurelius crossed the room and caught her by the chin, tilted her head up, and she felt her pulse jump. He was ridiculously handsome.

"You've an uncommonly pretty face, for a lad. Be careful - it might get you into more trouble than you're already in."

Niamh swallowed hard.

Aurelius stepped back. "The knights' courtyard. Fifteen minutes."

Fifteen minutes later, Niamh skittered into the courtyard dressed in leggings and a tabard marking her as Ambrosius's page. Aurelius stood on the sidelines next to a rack of weapons, fiddling with the buckles
of his gauntlet.

"Allow me, My Lord," Niamh said, hurrying to his side.

He looked up and smirked. "A page who's prompt. Giving your superiors high expectations already, are you?"

Niamh blinked. "Are you suggesting I should be slovenly in my duties?"

"Not at all." Aurelius let his hand fall to his side and watched her work.

Niamh had always been quick with armor, because Niall fussed if it took too long to prepare for the mock-bouts he had with Declan.

The master-at-arms, a grizzled veteran of a knight who was missing an eye, stepped into the courtyard fully armed.

"Good luck, My Lord," Niamh said, and handed Aurelius a sword.

"I don't need luck," he said, "but thanks anyway."

Niamh arched an eyebrow. "Shall I tear a strip off my tabard so you can wear a favor?"

Aurelius threw his head back and laughed. Then he leapt into the fight.