rad
Vignette
Starshower
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Post by rad on Oct 1, 2010 18:03:22 GMT -8
(Boy, I'm a post-a-holic today. XD)
Ok, so a bit of an introduction. This is the back story to an OC of mine within the anime The Vision of Escaflowne. I'm mostly looking for comments, opinions, constructive criticism, does it flow/make sense, and please point out my errors. So don't worry if you have no clue what I just said about the title. Oh, and I can take hard constructive criticism.
Also, I do not so much like the title. I want to keep the 'illegitimate' part (I'm going to figure out how to properly spell that word the first time one of these days!), but I do not so much like the 'childhood' part. Because it's not just her childhood (baby to fifteen) but her early adult life as well. So yes, title names would be of help also.
Background: The illegitimate child of a king and his queen pre-marriage is denied the throne and shipped to a different country to be raised by the queen's friend. (Clarification: The country(ies) are basically very medieval.)
Here is the first chapter. And with any luck, the next will be up in an hour or so... and the rest soon. I've been writing this at work (don't tell my boss and we're good) and the story is almost complete.
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Chapter I
Chelsea was infinitely glad it was relatively easy to pretend she was pregnant. She and Delma simply had to buy maternity clothes and stuff them with pillows. All she had to do was remember to act pregnant. Because she usually forgot, the poor socialite had forced herself to remain home instead of going out. That was so bad either, the Amia’s servants were lovely people and enjoyed the excuse to sit and chatter with the lady of the house. Sometimes, Chelsea’s friends would come calling. Chelsea still had to keep up the appearance, but it was much easier in her own home; she could stay seated for the duration of most conversations; it was much easier to pretend pregnancy sitting than standing.
Chelsea was also infinitely grateful that she didn’t have to give birth. Having watched her two younger sisters’ – twice each – she was happy to missing out on the pain. If she had gotten pregnant, Chelsea and of course have put up with the pain. But she and Delma had never been blessed by Teradosque with their own child; they would take the little miracle that had been offered to them.
What brought the largest smile to her face and the most joy to her heart where the gifts. Chelsea loved to mosey through the baby room, the gifts stacked in neat little groups. Clothes in one pile, toys in another, blankets and pillows in a third, bottles and baby china made up the fourth file. Chelsea held up a little pink and white girl’s dress from friends in Asturia and sigh. She truly hoped for a little girl. She would be happy with little boy, of course; that would make Delma. She smiled at the plush sword and shield and their short, wooden counterparts, gifts from Delma’s brother’s family.
The Amia men we’re warriors going back for at least generations. If they weren’t wielding weapons, they were crafting them. Or armor. Delma could barely remember one great-great-grandfather who had become a lawyer. The Amia women typically married up the men of high status and their male children followed in their mothers’ forefathers’ footsteps. Chelsea’s line, the Ciere, were more of the socialite class, the men as well as the women. The men served the traditional three years of basic training in the military but few remained there.
From the bottom of the stairs, one of the servants loudly announced that Delma had arrived home. Chelsea plodded down the stairs and welcomed her husband home. She didn’t mind the charade, but she would be overjoyed when it was done and over.
Chelsea couldn’t wait until she could hold their little child in her arms.
~*~
Tearing the brown paper from the box and opening it, Chelsea scoffed. Delma’s other brother proved yet again that he hadn’t married and needed to. “Eight months! Esesra has been here eight months! That’s plenty of time for him to have gotten the news that I ‘gave birth’ to a daughter! And yet he still sends wooden swords and stuffed horses bearing tournament regalia!”
Later that night, Delma chuckled at his youngest brother’s mistake. He laughed much less over two weeks later when his other two brothers sent in little boy gifts. They were married and had no excuse.
Delma’s brothers weren’t the only baby boy gift-givers the couple received from. Thankfully, none of them came from any of Chelsea’s family. She was sure she could never live through such embarrassment. A few of the baby boy gifts did come from a few of her male friends though.
In the end, the baby girl gifts did outnumber the baby boy gifts. In usual Trellyxian tradition, the Amias kept all of the girl gifts. Returning any gift was frowned upon, it was rude and dishonorable. They kept some of the boy gifts, still hoping for their own someday. It was also acceptable to regift any unwanted gifts. The rest of the baby boy gifts were sold to an out-of-town baby’s toy shop. (None of their relatives or friends lived there.)
However, little Esesra developed a fondness for some of the little boy toys when she discovered them at age three…
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rad
Vignette
Starshower
Posts: 228
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Post by rad on Oct 1, 2010 20:20:36 GMT -8
Chapter II
“That one looks like a turtle!”
“Horsie!”
“Cows go ‘mooo’!”
“I see a knight!”
The group of children groaned.
“Esesra, you always see knights!” The rest grumbled in agreement.
“Nu uh! Sometimes I sees chariots, ‘n spears, ‘n swords, ‘n—!”
“Be quiet Esesra! We don’t care! We’re supposed to be finding animalses!”
“Knights ride horses, I think that’s close enough,” Princess Lynores defended Esesra.
“I don’t wanna play anymore if Princess Lynores is gonna let Esesra cheat again.” The group concurred.
“Well,” Esesra mumbled, “I don’t wanna play the cloud shapes game anymore anyway.” Pouting, the five-year-old stood and walked away. Nearing the guards at the courtyard’s entrance, Esesra brushed a tear from her eye. “C-could one of you please bring me to Daddy’s office?” she asked.
The guards smiled at her. “I’ll go fetch one of the nurses,” one of them replied.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” he tossed over his shoulder, making his way down the hall.
Esesra slumped down the wall and sat on the floor. She sniffled, telling herself not to cry.
“Essie! Essie!” Princess Lynores tumbled through the archway. She slid smack dab into the opposite wall.
“Princess, are you alright?” the two remaining guards scurried over to the little heap of purple and red.
She giggled “’m ok.” She stuck a few fingers into her mouth, poking at her teeth.
Esesra hid a smile behind her hand.
“I think I might’a knocked a tooth loose…” as Princess Lynores’ report.
The faces of the two guards fell, but then one smiled. “You’re just pretending, right your little majesty?”
Princess Lynores’ face erupted in a huge grin. Esesra couldn’t hold back her laughter.
The other guard looked back and forth between the two girls. “You’re sure she’s fine?” he asked his comrade.
He nodded.
“You ok Essie?”
“I tolded you not to call me that!” Esesra’s smile betrayed her.
The guards chuckled. The third guard arrived with one of the nurses.
“Essie, do ya still wanna go home?” Esesra shook her head no. “We’d like to go up to my playroom, please. Do dolls sound ok Essie?”
“Can some of them be knights?”
“Oh Essie, you know that’s always ok with me!”
Esesra couldn’t contain her laughter.
-----------------------------------------
And now I'm going to bed. *Takes toothpicks out of eyes*
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rad
Vignette
Starshower
Posts: 228
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Post by rad on Oct 3, 2010 17:32:00 GMT -8
Chapter III
He hated attending the parties; loathed them. He had to get dressed up – which wasn’t much compared to his wife and daughter. But he did despise having to retrieve his official’s sash and pounds of medals from the depths of his bureau. Not to mention dusting and polishing them. Then there was the packing. They would be gone for most of a month and therefore they had to pack a lot. He never allowed his wife to direct eh servants to pack his things. Oh no, he had learned that lesson many years before.
The trip there and back was usually just fine. He used the time to rest as well as attempt to complete the ever-growing mountain of paperwork. The voyage was also wonderful time well-spent with this little family.
But above the medals and packing, his contempt lay with the dancing and dreary chatter at the parties. The dancing itself wasn’t too horrible; he did enjoy doing it with his wife after all. It was the fact that the dancing took up several hours of the evening. And the conversations? They couldn’t even be called that! More like political meetings or discussions of weather and agriculture. He didn’t even want to get started on that topic.
Delma Amia hated social parties.
He twirled one of the Caelis’ wives around the dance floor again. Why did royalty even have extravagant parties for their young children? For an older child, say nine or ten, it made a bit more sense. But at three years old? The child simply fell asleep or left to do that only an hour or two into the festivities!
Delma semi-understood the extravagance of parties for those old enough to partake in drinking and those that enjoyed dancing. Partly. His wife was of that persuasion. But adults actually knew and participated in the merriment of the evening.
The dance ended and Delma went to look for Chelsea. His wife always knew just how to temper his dissocial moods.
Contrary to her father’s feelings about the party, eight-year-old Esesra was enjoying herself. Still several years shy of being allowed to attend the adult portion of the birthday party, she was grateful that at least didn’t have to be stuck with the babies and nursemaids. Currently, she was playing dolls with Trellyx’s eldest princess, Lynores. As her father was Captain of the Guard, she often spent time with both of the Trellyx princesses. The youngest, two years younger than herself, had nodded off and been brought to bed about an hour ago.
Esesra’s eyes wandered the playroom, taking in any changes like she had heard her father mention at a training session a few weeks ago. Not much had changed in the playroom. About a dozen children sat or ran around the room in near-wild abandon. Three boys older than herself were pretending to be knights and were “dueling” with wooden swords. The younger sister of one of them had been bribed into playing the princess in need of rescuing. The rest of the children were either playing with dolls or blocks, save one.
Over the past couple of parties that she could remember, Esesra had observed that Marlene Erisha Aston like to be left alone. The pretty blonde child usually read. She never talked to anyone, save the attendants. And only then to ask to use the facilities. The attendants in every country so far had learned that the girl enjoyed her privacy. With no reason to disturb her, they acquiesced.
Scowling a bit, Esesra turned back to the dolls. How was she to hone her observation skills if nothing of interest ever happened in the children’s play room? Esesra almost wished she were old enough to attend the parties in their entirety. She was sure they were much more entertaining for her developing skills to mature.
Although in continuing that line of thought, Esesra wondered if it be true. Her father was always grousing about the parties. Her mother, on the other hand, always seemed to enjoy them. Much to her father’s chagrin. She smiled an attempted to contain a giggle.
“What’s so funny?” Lynores asked.
“Nothing much,” Esesra responded. “Just Mother and Father’s differing opinions on the parties.”
“Oh. That again?”
She nodded. It was one of their favorite topics of discussion. Both of their parents felt the same way about the parties, but to different extents. The Queen loved social gatherings; it allowed her to dress up and talk nonstop. The King, however, knew that it was his duty to converse with the other guests. Lynores had once overheard her parents speaking and told Esesra that her father usually felt guilty about disliking the half-conversations he was subjected to.
The two young girls spent the small remainder of their evening wondering what “half-conversations” were. That was one of their favorite discussion topics: Attempting to understand the adults.
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Post by sunstar on Oct 4, 2010 19:27:03 GMT -8
Very good. I would like to see more soon!
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rad
Vignette
Starshower
Posts: 228
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Post by rad on Nov 8, 2010 18:47:18 GMT -8
Chapter IV
She ducked as the boy swung his weapon at her head. The children had long ago ruled that headshots were not allowed, yet Hoel rarely ever followed any of the few ground rules. Esesra was just thankful that the boy was just barely too young to receive lessons. No doubt he would break those rules as well as using training to his advantage.
Of course, Esesra was being a bit hypocritical. At ten years old, her mother was dead against her playing with wooden swords and dirty little boys. She pulled her thoughts back to Hoel. She brought her sword up to block an attack on her stomach. He pulled away, gripped the sword with both hands and brought it up over his head.
Esesra recognized the wind up. Hoel had only ever attempted to use the technique about a million one times since the children had begun play-fighting. She mimicked his double-handed grip and tried to prepare for the blow.
Angling her sword point down near her right hip, she held the handle a few inches up and to the left of her opposite shoulder. Esesra used her right leg to ground as well as brace herself for the attack.
The harsh blow came as expected; Hoel almost never changed. Esesra pushed off with her right foot, forcing her hands out and to the side. At the same time she took two steps forward. The angle and movement of her sword sent Hoel tumbling to the ground in a heap.
He reached for his wooden sword but Esesra was faster. Firmly placing her foot atop his weapon, she swung her sword around and down, stopping a few inches above Hoel’s throat. She knew the dull point was just a touch too close for the play rules, but she felt justified in toeing that line. He had cheated after all. If this was the only revenge she was going to take – and it would be – Esesra considered the action fair. “Dead,” she pronounced.
Perhaps she always beat Hole in these imaginary duels because he always cheated and used the same tactics, Esesra mused. The small crowd of children applauded the fight while she removed her foot and offered her hand to the boy. He slapped it away, grabbed his sword, rolled over, and pushed himself up. Hoel back peddled, spat in the general direction of her feet, and tore off towards home, scattering children in his wake.
The children turned their attention back to Esesra, shock and awe at Hoel’s rude gesture. They were also anxious for her reaction. She disappointed them, again, merely shrugging her shoulders. ‘Let the cheating coward run.’
Hoel had spat at her a few times over the past few weeks. Too bad his attempt at a new “attack” wouldn’t rile her. She had been surprised, shocked, and hurt the first time. But she wouldn’t let it bother her. Why should she?
“Esesra Klairita Amia! Get in this house right now young lady!” Her mother’s piercing cry startled everyone. Esesra’s shoulders slumped at getting caught. She waved goodbye to her friends and trudged home.
“You are not too old for a spanking, Esesra Klairita,” her mother informed her. “Go wash up; Seamstress Dara is here for your sewing lesson.”
“Yes, Mother.” She went to the basin at the back of the kitchen and scrubbed at her face and hands. Drying with a nearby towel, Esesra wondered if her mother realized that sending her to lessons in dirty clothes really didn’t feel like a punishment to her.
Esesra did know that appearing before Seamstress Dara would most certainly not be her only punishment. Her parents liked the image of the father at the head of the household. Both of her parents would be doling out her punishment after dinner. As she tried to focus her mind on the needle and brightly colored threads and cloth, Esesra wondered what her punishment would be this time. She also wondered which one of her parents would ‘win’ the argument this time.
While she knew that both despised the situation, they had yet to argue the issue. Her mother wanted their only child, a girl, to grow into a well-mannered young woman, get married to a wonderful man, have children, and begin the cycle of life anew. To achieve this goal required years of lessons in sewing, etiquette, dance, and social skills. Some of her instructors were her mother’s friends; some had even been her mother’s own instructors, old and full of stories.
Her father was not completely in disagreement with her mother. He completely agreed that all Gaean little girls should grow up in this manner. But he also saw Esesra and her feelings in the scenario. He understood Esesra’s desire for adventure and swordfights. It was under his influence that Esesra had been allowed to play-fight with the neighborhood boys, for as long as she had as well as at all.
Not for the last time, she wished she had been born a boy.
Her father arrived home near the end of her lesson. He greeted the two of them and enquired as to the progress of Esesra’s progress. He and the seamstress exchanged pleasantries while Esesra finished hemming a dress for one of her friend’s many dolls. She heard the faint catch in his voice that indicated he had noticed the cleanliness of her clothes, or lack thereof. After a few minutes, he left the room.
A short while later Seamstress Dara announced their session over. She complimented Esesra on her doll’s dress, pointing out a few errors and things she needed to improve. Esesra cleaned up the sewing supplies, walked her instructor to the door, and bid her good evening.
Deciding to attempt to bribe her mother, even a little bit, Esesra went back into the kitchen to retrieve the dinner dishes. She asked the least-busy cook to get the dishes from one of the out-of-reach cupboards. The cook nodded distractedly and Esesra waited patiently until she had a moment to spare. The young girl hauled the many dishes to the dining room in several trips, careful not to take too much and endanger her cargo.
Twenty minutes later she had the table set for four – Trellyxians often set their dinner tables for an unexpected guest. Esesra had taken great care to place each dish and piece of silverware in its proper place. She did pay attention to a few of her lessons, after all.
Her mother walked into the dining room and her jaw dropped. “I was just about to call you… thank you for setting the table, dear. I appreciate your desire and willingness to help. And I see that you do absorb what some of your instructors are attempting to impart to you. Go wash up; I will fetch your father.”
Esesra smiled, thanked her mother, and ducked into the kitchen yet again. She washed quickly and went back to the dining room, taking her place at the table across from her mother. Her father spoke of the goings on of the palace guard and how one of his associates was sick. Her mother repeated what she had heard of the royal court at the clothier’s.
And then her father asked the dreaded question, “And what did you do today, Esesra?”
Her mother gave her a significant look. It was always unnecessary; Esesra hadn’t tried to hide the truth since she was six. “I had a good sewing lesson with Seamstress Dara, played dolls with Jadale, and had a pretend fight with Hoel.”
Her father sighed. “We have had this discussion several times, Esesra. You are too old to play boys’ games anymore. You are ten years old, the proper age for a Trellyxian daughter to begin the journey to womanhood. As punishment, for the next three weeks you are forbidden to leave this house unless you are accompanying myself, your mother, or one of the servants. The bazaar and your friends’ homes are off-limits. In addition, with your newly acquired free time, you will assist the cooks and housekeepers with their respective duties. You will also aid your mother in whatever she asks of you.”
Her mother’s eyes widened at the length of the punishment, but she nodded her head in agreement with her husband. Esesra hung her head and said, “Yes Father.”
In their bedchamber later that evening, Chelsea prayed to Teradosque for her wayward, spirited daughter. As a child, she had loved the different coming of age stages. Nothing had excited her more than the lessons, the parties, and the fine dresses. Chelsea had enjoyed meeting men of varying ages; adored Delma’s courtship. She asked Teradosque to portion her emotions to Esesra. Her daughter was stubborn, but her heard was right. Her soul held no malice; if only Esesra would put her focus completely into her lessons, placing her childhood folly behind her.
~*~
“Esesra,” her father whispered as he tucked her in bed that night. “Who won your little sword fight?”
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Post by sunstar on Nov 10, 2010 20:13:03 GMT -8
Another good chapter!
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Post by Marbletoast on Nov 11, 2010 14:21:43 GMT -8
Yo! Sorry I took so long to ever get to this, Rad. . .I'll still probably be slow, at least through November, but I read Chapter 1!  The entire scenario is really interesting and has me wondering where the baby came from, and why. (I mean, I know you explain it before the story, but IN the story, you've created a nice bit of mystery.) I think you did a nice job establishing Chelsea's character a little in this first chapter, and a tiny bit of her relationship with her husband. All in all, however, chapter one could use a little more life to it. Dialogue between the 'expecting' parents, a scene where she perhaps forgets she's 'pregnant' for some humor and tension, that sort of thing. It's feeling very bullet-pointed by the end, and strangely focused on peculiar aspects of the birth. For instance, we have at least three paragraphs devoted to the fact that people sent gifts for the wrong gender, and nothing about the arrival of the baby itself. We don't even see the baby, and the father never speaks. That is my primary suggestion with chapter one, and I found a few missing words and syntactical issues which are much easier to correct: "wasn't so bad" ; period instead of comma before "the Amia's servants" "to be missing out" ; Second sentence doesn't make sense--"would have of course out up with the pain"? I hope it was intentional that this highlights something about her personality. She feels here not materialistic, but like a woman who is maybe still a little bit of a child herself, delighting in the toys and gifts and the things. I liked it, but if that is not a part of personality, then you might want to reconsider how you phrase it. Would make Delma what? "were" ; how many generations? This sentence never quite made sense to me. "Married up" and "followed in their mothers' forefathers' footsteps" were a bit cumbersome and unwieldy. I'd suggest reworking this sentence. Comma after "military" I always suggest have as few adverbs as possible, because they are telling, not showing. "one of the servants shouted" or "announced" without loudly would suffice just as well. Stuffed horses are always awesome presents. I got confused here--wasn't it his older brother just a few sentences ago? Awkward--maybe something more like "Delma's brother weren't the only one who sent gifts for a baby boy." Run-on This feels almost unnecessary. I found myself wondering why there was such an elaboration on this point. The parenthesis at the end feels particularly like the whole thing is more of a rambling explanation than a part of the story. I think it is an excellent bit of humor that folks sent the wrong gender gifts, but I don't think you need to dedicate so much of the chapter to the joke, unless you let us know that is singularly culturally significant, etc. Sorry that's all for now--I'll read the rest as soon as I can! Also, I will try and think of title-y things. The one you have now is not bad, but I think you are right--it could probably be polished. |
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rad
Vignette
Starshower
Posts: 228
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Post by rad on Nov 12, 2010 6:03:58 GMT -8
Oh good heavens... would you look at all of those mistakes! *Shame*
See, I wanted to make a big deal about the baby boy gifts. Because "their" child turns out to be a girl...
And there isn't more to the chapter because I didn't want there to be more... but that is food for thought. *Chews*
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Post by Marbletoast on Nov 12, 2010 16:48:39 GMT -8
If it's the approach you want to take, you could keep both aspects--the focus on the gifts, and the lack of much besides exposition. That'd be totally doable.  I suggest then considering how to do both of those things without leaving the reader feeling they missed something. My suggestion is taking a less 'telling' approach. You can do the exact same sequence you currently have, just recrafted with more 'showing' to get the reader involved, instead of feeling like we're being briefly updated. I hope that makes sense, anyway. By no means write or add something you don't want to. ^_^ |
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I suggest then considering how to do both of those things without leaving the reader feeling they missed something. My suggestion is taking a less 'telling' approach. You can do the exact same sequence you currently have, just recrafted with more 'showing' to get the reader involved, instead of feeling like we're being briefly updated.