Thursday, September 29, 2011

A-levels were invented to KILL ME.

Hello freinds ect.

Lost in Words is on pause DX
I don't know for how long, and I don't want to. But I have so much homework, I can't do both. And well... in the end; A-levels = University = Career = Money = Free Time.
however; Me + All work + No play = a dead me. So I won't be on chat until I'm free, and will try to write when I have time.

There is SO MUCH I want to write and draw. This is my mental list, transcribed for your pleasure
Lost in Words
New Fic (Planned, not much more than that at the moment)
Purple Roses intro - basically how I became a Purple Rose (MI5 are involved. It stems from my secret love of emotionless spy novels - Alex Ryder and the ones by Andy McNab, predominantly.)
The Medival thing - its a thing! Anyone can use this now, if they want! (just credit me, okay?)
Pirate -  I have so many plans for this... the god ship Bentley, Captain Plesant and the stowaway Cain... Plus China in this dress!  (Dammit, just ANY of these! )

OC's - Kallistas, NJ's, Niall, Gepard, Skyril, BB, MINE!!
China in multiple dresses (see above)
Darquesse and Lord Vile. (HIGHLIGHT TO SEE SPOILERS oh god please work) - a la the poses on the front of DB. 
Front cover of Lost in Words (which, due to how much it neeeeeeeeeeds to be drawn, shows most likelyhood of being drawn)
Me, Niall, Gepard, Jasmine, NJ and BB in the whole bizzare steampunk/edwardian family thing...
Hadestown - I have sketches already... *sighs*
Growth chart of Valkyrie - okay, okay, I just want to draw her in her dresses!
China X Eliza                             but don't worry too much, I think Meiri on DA has this in the works...
Hester Shaw and Tom Natsworthy - I love these two so much. Mortal Engines
Oh, and Fever Crumb.
ALMOST EVERYONE FROM CHAOS WALKING. Todd, Viola, Davy Prentiss (who needs more love) Cillian & Ben, Mayor Prentiss (who does not need more love.) and WILF. 

There is so much more. Ideas never know what time it is...

Oh god, I don't want to live in the real world. 

Sunday, September 25, 2011

Lost In Words part 7: Equals

“Explain.” Niall stood, staring stormily at Israel. He pointed to the door she’d left out of. “Explain why.”  Israel nodded.
“She’s been working on the myth of the…”
“I know that. I want to know why you didn’t tell her. What kind of friend does that?”
“A good one. This Octa, the people around him die when they get pulled into his chaos, and he does nothing. He could do so much, yet he doesn’t. Did you know that he was pegged to be the Death Bringer!? Did you know that Lord Vile, one of the most evil people to walk this earth was said to be the same!? So excuse me for wanting to spare an old friends life. Now, I need to go cook for the people I’m looking after.” And with that, he stomped off screen. Niall grunted, and walked to the spiral staircase that lead to the rooftop.
She was gripping the wrought iron balustrade fiercely, so tight that even from where he was he could see the white of her knuckles. Her auburn hair spiralled in the harsh winter wind, her scarf threatening to abandon her throat. He rubbed his arms, glad he was wearing a jumper, and walked slowly over to her. She didn’t react, but he knew she knew he was there. He leaned onto the railing next to her, and waited. And hoped that is wouldn’t break, it was a fair bit down. After a while, she turned to face him.
“I just can’t believe he didn’t tell me. I’ve known him for decades, fought beside each other countless times, and he didn’t tell me.” She turned so she was sitting beside him.
“He did say it was to protect you though. Which is completely fathomable. But then again, you’ve worked long and hard on the Last Eight Great Immortals, and one of them turns up on his doorstep. So it’s even more utterly understandable that you’re pissed at him. I mean, you don’t need to be protected, but who wouldn’t do all they could to protect someone they care about. Which he obviously does, perhaps…” he nudged her with his shoulder “Come on. I’m not saying you have to forgive him. But you want to find this Octaboona, and he’s our best bet at the moment. Plus, its bloody cold out here.” She smiled at him and shook her head.
“You. I don’t know how you do it.”
“I know, some people do have trouble getting their heads around my greatness. But, um, any parts you having particular trouble comprehending?”
“How you always know the right words. Come on, let’s get you inside. I’d never forgive myself if you were ill due to me. I need someone to make me tea” she stood up. “Shall we?” She held out a hand. He clasped it tightly, finding her fingers cold as ice.
“The adventures only just begun?” he said with a smirk
"Oh no luv. I think it started the moment you met me."

Saturday, September 24, 2011

Lost In Words part 6: Irony and Poppies

Elysium [ɪˈlɪzɪəm]
1. (Myth & Legend / Classical Myth & Legend) Also called Elysian fields Greek myth the dwelling place of the blessed after death.
2. a state or place of perfect bliss.
[from Latin, from Greek Ēlusion pedion Elysian (that is, blessed) fields]

“Israel Elysium is an old friend of mine. We fought together, a lot.” Venice was sitting opposite Gepard and Kallista, Niall at an angle to her right.
“So it was him that called?” She shook her head.
“Not at first, although it was from his phone. It was a young girl, and from her voice, I don’t think she could off been any older than nine years old.
She had explained that Israel had told her to call this number should he be unable to help. The girl, I think her name was Quinnera, had explained that she was a sensitive, and that she was scared. It had resonated through her voice, but so did her determination. Someone she loved was missing, and she’d seen him hurt in a vision. At that point, she started chocking up, and the explained that Israel had banned her and the other residents from hunting him down.” Kal’s head was cocked to the side, staring at Venice so intently that it was almost petrifying, especially from a girl who rarely focused for more than five minutes. Venice carried on, sending nothing more than a questioning look the way of the girl she loved like a sister, and who was practically her niece anyway.
“At this point, Israel came on, and explained the situation. Basically, the man she was missing is very old, and like a grandfather to her. However, he also said that this man – Octaboona Ambrosius – was not to be trusted. He’s a word mage, an old magic… oh. OH.” She looked at Niall excitedly, and he grinned back.
“No such thing. Just mysteries you can’t answer.” Gepard coughed loudly, interrupting them
“That’s wonderful and all… but hows about explaining it for those not part of this romance?” Niall responded with a withering look, but Venice just rolled her eyes, then clapped her hands.
“Right. I’ve got a plan.” Ignoring the sarcastic amazement, she picked up the phone, punched in a number, and handed it to Niall.
“Do you know how to do that speaker talky thing?”

“So, here are the facts. The probable author of that book is missing. An old man is being hunted. However, these hunters are coming back empty handed and unharmed. The aforementioned book is especially focused on peace and words and the power they hold. Tell me you see what I see Israel.”
“Ven, he’s over two hours away, of course he can’t!”
“Shut up Gep” They all chorused, subconsciously. Well, apart from Kallista, who was as silent as the grave. Niall pointed to the laptop on the table.
“Technically, he can see some of it.” He grinned at Venice “Lucky you’ve got a computer nerd for a… lucky you have me.”
“I know luv.” They were facing the large (but slim) laptop on the antique coffee table. The cold steel contrasted oddly with the elegance of the floral swirls. However, compared to the rest of the contrast in the old Victorian house, it was hardly noticeable. The chaotic simplicity of the place was everything she needed. Swirling flowers trailed out behind a vast mixture of bookshelves, and there was a telly somewhere, she just couldn’t place where, especially not since she’d worked out that DVDs worked in computers.
Meanwhile, one hour away by reckless motorbike, Israel Elysium was slouched in a chair facing the screen and his old ally, scowling slightly.
“Israel. I know that look. You know I want to save this man. But more importantly, I know you’re hiding something. You know something about this man that I don’t. And I can’t recall a time when you knowing something I don’t has ever ended well. Remember Maastricht?”
“Of course” he shifted in the old chair, trying to get comfy. He didn’t like this, it was so formal. Still, he saw the need for it in this circumstance. “All right, I’ll tell you. But promise not to hate me Ven. Remember Kjørholmane.” Both of their faces twisted at the memories of that culmination of a vile five years. He saw her nod through the screen.
“I remember.” She whispered, and then nodded again. “All right Israel. Tell me.”
Israel explained about Octaboona Ambrosius, about how he had turned up at the asylum, how Quinnera had formed an attachment to him, about the death of his young sister, about how he could control people with his words. Venice had been listening intently, concerned when she heard about Quinn and the sister, massively curious when she heard about the poetry magic. Israel had jumped when she’d shown him the book, remarking on how he always wore purple robes, and further authenticating the connection. Finally, he reached the end of his monologue.
“Ven, you should know that he claims to be as old as the ancients. He claims to be… Ven, mate, he claims to be one of the Last Great Immortals.” She sank into the chair, face stony, eyes glaring and hands clawed at the armrest. Then, she was out of sight in seconds. They all heard something thud, and a shriek of rage. Israel rubbed his forehead.
“Shit.” He leaned back in his chair “Shit.”

Saturday, September 17, 2011

Lost In Words part 5: Albatross

Mistrust makes life difficult. Trust makes it risky.
Mason Cooley 

Eventually, the magic stopped. Cars came out for the daily commute to work and coffee and monotony.
She sighed, and looked at her new… partner? Companion? It didn’t matter for now. He looked exhausted, and she felt… guilty? She realised she hadn’t felt guilty in so long. She’d felt hardly anything because of someone else in so long.   
So, she sat him down on the sofa in her living room, and went back into the study to collect her notes about this endless puzzle. She was still having trouble believing that that purple tome was the secret key to unlocking the myth of the Last Great Immortals. Mentioned only in old books and the odd pictogram, but mainly in fables of warning, most dismissed them as nothing but that. Almost all told her that it was a stupid thing to do, chasing stories and going on wild goose-chases with an intellect like hers. But she loved the stories, the detective work involved in stitching together entire stories from the smallest piece of evidence. And nothing had intrigued her more than that of the Last Great Immortals. She meandered back into the room, a folder full of paper cradled in her arms, and smiled sadly.
He was curled up in a deep sleep on the sofa, one hand reaching for the floor. Her lips twitched, unsure whether to smile at how calm he looked, or frown at disgust for herself. She covered him in a blanket from her spare room, and placed his glasses on the table nearby. He muttered something unintelligible in his sleep as she’d taken them off. She would have placed him on the bed if she was strong enough. She quickly wrote a note in her messy scrawl, and, after a moment’s hesitation, had placed her key on top.  Slipping the folder in her bag, she paused at the door for another look. She hadn’t wanted to drug him, but it was necessary. He couldn’t know where she was going, no one could. And he needed his sleep. So why did she feel so guilty? The door locked behind her.

It had turned out, as she had found out during that night, that Niall had heard rumours of numerous assassins and other such paid killers to go after one man. The odd thing about this old man was that every single assassin that had gotten close to claiming the bounty had turned up safe and sound at either prisons, home sanctuaries, or the current residence of their mother, heads full of peaceful intentions.  They had called up a grumpy Gepard Valk, and, after he’d ran out of jokes for what they were really doing, had assured them he’d heard the same. In fact, even private detectives (all with shady morals) had been hired in bulk as well. At that point she knew where she’d have to go, and wasn’t looking forwards to it.

Niall had woken up not too soon after she had left, and his eyes were immediately drawn to the note and key on the ornate antique coffee table in front of him. 
          I’ve just gone out for a bit, you dropped off on the sofa you were so tired. It seemed a shame to wake you. The key is for here, bring it with you and call me if you go back to the shop.
I’ll be back soon.
                      Yours – Venice

He sighed, put his glasses on, and went to make himself some breakfast. It was a Thursday, so he could wait for a while before opening the shop.

About an hour later, the intercom buzzed. “Ven? Veeeeeeeeeeennnnnnnnnniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiccccccccccceee? I wanna come up! Can you unlock the door, ooooooh, what does this button do? ZZZZZZPPPXXXXXXXKKKK”
Niall trudged downstairs to open the door, it sounded like Kallista had broken something. Again. He wasn’t sure what could of even broken, but it was best to be on the safe side when it came to Kal.
He unlocked the door, and a girl with sparkling eyes and shining hair wrenched him into a hug,
“Niall! Hey, where’s Venolicious?” still grappling him in a surprisingly bone crushing hug, she looked over his shoulder at the staircase. And then at the ceiling. And the floor. And then behind her.
He wheezed and waved his arms best he could and she let him go, beaming as was her fashion, but with less of a spring than usual, and  her grin seemed forced.
“Kal, what’s happened?” he asked worriedly and turning to head back upstairs. Kal was known for occasionally getting upset other things no one else would; a ‘lost’ bunny, or a forgotten shoe abandoned on a street corner. This seemed different though.
“Kal, do you want me to call Ven? She’s not here… I think she’s at Chinas, probably.” while he closed the door she scampered up the stairs to Venice’s apartment. When he followed her up he found her sitting on his sofa wrapped up in the blanket he’d been sleeping under, with only her face and the toes of her socks peeping out. He went over to the kitchen and made her some jasmine tea. He couldn’t stand the stuff, but it sold ok back at the Broken Spine, and Ven swore by it. He handed it to Kal, who sniffed it, took a sip, and then glared at him.
“I’ll make you a cup of hot chocolate instead shall I?” she nodded and handed the cup over, poking her tongue out. While he was searching the cupboards for biscuits with the right level of sugar content (too low and she wouldn’t touch them, too high and she’d be bouncing of the walls for hours. Literally.) He wondered what she could be here to talk to Venice about. Scary girly things probably.

Half an hour later, Venice still hadn’t turned up, and wasn’t answering her phone either.
He was sitting next to Kal on the sofa, dunking cheap ginger biscuits into her hot chocolate, watching ‘Father Ted’ when the phone rang.
“Hello this is Niall Montblanc, this is the Broken Spine how may I… wait, I mean, this is Venice Rains number, she’s not here right now…”
“Niall!? Feck, seriously, isn’t that paedophilia? I mean, yeah, sure, I…” Niall interrupted his friend before he could continue
“Shut up Gepard! Yeah, she’s not here. And we didn’t spend the night together! I mean, we did, but not like that!”
“Whatever. I’m coming over anyway. SEE YA NORN!”
Ten minutes or so later, Gepard Valk turned up, banging on the door noisily.
“NIALL? MONTBLAAANNCCC! OPEN THE DOOR NORN BOY! Is Rain back yet? I WANT TO KNOW ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED…! OPEEENNNNN!!” Niall wrenched open the door, eyes slitted.
“What do you want Valk?” he asked harshly. Gepard glared back.
Then, looking around quickly, they hugged.
“Missed you bro.”
They heard a snap of a shutter and a flash of light from up the stairs. Kal was standing at the top with a camera in hand, laughing best she could with a sprinkle covered ice lolly in her mouth.

“No, YOU shh!”
“NO, you shh!” Gepard and Kal were sitting at opposite ends of the sofa, bickering, with Niall sitting in the middle of them, staring at the television. He had given up attempting to listen to it anyway, as they’d been at it for the last five minutes, and showed no signs of tiring. The phone rang, but only for one ring. Obviously, someone had picked it up. He went round into the kitchen, and finally saw Venice, phone clasped to one ear, the other hand closing the window she had just climbed in from.
“Hey Ven…” She smiled at him, but held up a finger. He nodded, and leant against the doorframe, watching her pace. Eventually, after saying very little, but promising something to the unknown caller, she nodded to herself and hung up, head hung.
“Yes?” she turned to him, looking straight into his eyes, the steely blue of hers reflecting into his hazel.
“Do you trust me?” 

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Lost In Words part 4: The Colour of Magic

"The city is all right. To live in one
Is to be civilized, stay up and read
Or sing and dance all night and see sunrise
By waiting up instead of getting up."
 Robert Frost

They had sped over to her apartment overlooking the Dublin, a rather terrifying experience for Niall, due to the fact that a) It was absolutely packing it down, b) Venice always braked at the last moment, and drifted most every corner.
When they did get there, they got down to work, sifting through piles of paper, old notebooks and new, moleskin and Tesco’s own, written in all kinds of ink in a variety of colours and nib. What looked like quill written pages would have underlines in pencil and rainbow gel, or maps written over repeatedly. Most of the handwriting was her own messy swirls, some of it harsh printed text, some in the lettering of old friends and past colleagues. She smiled, as she looked her new companion sitting across from her, writing down the odd bit in a blue ink pen inscribed with Klingon. They carried on like this through the night, sipping cups of hot tea filled with far too much sugar, and half a ton of biscuits and chocolate, flipping through old maps and case notes, talking, her telling a rambling anecdote that was relevant when she started, Niall interjecting with jokes and questions, and both of them becoming more nonsensical as the night wore on.
During a lull, both of them pouring over books, still wide awake, they stopped. The dawn chorus had begun, light seeping in under her curtains and onto the floor and lighting the books closest, glimmering off of embossed foil titles, or highlighting old leather and dusky pages. Wordlessly, he stood up and threw open the curtains, allowing the light to flood in.
She was beside him in seconds, silent as the grave. They stood and watched the sun rise over Dublin harbour, turning it for a few seconds into Baile Átha Cliath again, illuminating the city and its sea. If magic had a colour, this would be so close. After their sleepless night of work and toil and learning and knowledge, they just stood and watch the sun rise, fingers incontestably intertwined. 

If you live in a city, and have seen the sun rise over the rooftops, you know exactly what I mean. If you've seen it rise over the sea, you're close. If you've seen it rise at all, from a night of no sleep, then you know.

Sunday, September 11, 2011

Lost In Words part 3; "The best memory is not as good as pale ink."

About two and a half weeks later, and Niall was patched up enough to glower at Venice’s trail of wet footprints on the wooden floor.
“I’m not cleaning that up Ven.” He said, coming out of a back room. She finished taking off her mac and placed it on a usefully placed hat stand. The water fell off it in a sheet. It was soon after closing hours, and Venice enjoyed disregarding the closed sign. And the lock. And the other 3.
“I know. Hey, they make it look homely”
“They make it look like I want someone to fall over…” he was interrupted in mid frown by her hug.
“Good to see you on your feet Niall. How’s business?” she flumped down into an armchair. He followed suit.
“Not bad, not bad. I mean, not brilliant either, but it turns out that people like it here for some reason. Must be the charming owner, if you ask me” he twirled an imaginary moustache and stared off dramatically into the middle distance.
“Of course. Or it could be the fact people like the atmosphere. It’s nice to just sit and relax without worrying that the owner is going to snap your neck if you breath too heavily.”
“Still, what would we do without her, and her library?”
“I don’t know. Truthfully, I’d rather not think about it.” She shook her head “Imagine all those books… just gone.” Niall turned to her, and about to change the subject, but she was staring at something she couldn’t see, frowning.
“Venice!?” he strode over to her, and placed a hand on her shoulder. She snapped out if it the second they touched.
“Mn? Sorry, I was just… anyway, tea?” she got up and stalked off to the kitchen. He shook the curious expression off of his face and followed her in. He’d allowed her to make a cup of tea once before. Just once. It wasn’t an experience he wanted to repeat.

“And then you turned up, and the rest is history” they were sitting on the sofa in Niall’s place, sipping tea. He had just finished recounting exactly why Van Dreg had gone after him, and she was still giggling into her tea. He grinned again, then was struck by a thought. Poking her knee, he asked he what had happened to the book.
“What book?”
“The purple one you hit him with”
“Oh. OH. Oh… now that’s curious. I can’t remember doing anything with it once I had knocked him out… how odd. Hmmm” she suddenly scrambled up, handing him the tea cup emblazoned with a steampunk dirigible motif (he was going to get Cthulu ones, but had remembered something about them being based on the Faceless Ones. Pirates are better anyway).
She had vaulted down the two flights of stairs to his libros magicae, and was now scanning the shelves, muttering to herself. Niall walked in grumbling mildly. But he never gave up the chance to see someone who knew what they were doing tease the true magic out of these books, and he’d heard about Venice Rain’s dedicated, bordering on obsessive, nature when it came to a puzzle
He was not disappointed.
She had pulled a book from the shelf, and despite the late hour and the fact she’d been sitting calmly curled up on a sofa scarcely over a minuet ago, she was now buzzing with energy, flipping through the pages with zeal, stopping on seemingly random pages. Eventually she came to a stop and grinned to herself.
“I though so.” She was now placing the book back on its shelf, still smiling
“A forget charm. Well, it’s not technically a charm, its more complex than that… but basically, I used this book for violent means, therefore I forgot about it. I don’t think there are many people today who even know what it is, let alone how to do one…” she was biting her lip and tapping her fingers on the wood of one of the shelves. As Niall watched, she nodded to herself, coming to a conclusion on something or other.  
“Well then Niall my dear, grab your coat, we’re off to my place.” And she skipped up the stairs without another word.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Lost In Words Chapter 2; Solicitude and/or Disquietude

She closed the door to the library softly behind her as she stepped into the grey hallway. It was a few hours after since she had helped the boy, Niall, find his way out, and she hadn’t seen him since, something she found rather odd. Walking down the stairs, hands in pockets, the book strapped to her back, something was nagging at her in the pit of her stomach. Not a feeling that she’d forgotten something, no. It was that feeling of foreshadowment, that something was about to happen. A ‘sixth sense’ as her father called it. Her aunt preferred to believe that it was the sensitive bloodline leaking through. All she knew that something big was on its way.

She was walking across the car park to her bike, when the hairs on the back of her neck prickled. Someone, or something, was watching her. She tensed, hand reaching for her blade, and mentally calculating both a list of the people after her, and of the best way to protect the book. She turned slowly on the spot. She could easily make the run to her bike and be out of here before this someone even had a chance to attack. But that feeling, deep down in her gut, was making her stay. She saw something move, over by one of the outer walls, then a thud and a groan. Hesitantly, she moved towards it. The sane, self-centred, assassin trained part of her was telling her to go, flee, ignore it and run. It was fighting a losing battle. She was curious, and she’d yet to find something that could stop her when she was curious. When she was seven years old, her older cousin had told her that a kraken lived in the lagoon outside of Venetzia. Instead of being terrified, she had roped in her other cousin, and they ‘commandeered’ a rowing boat to meet it. They’d been stopped by two sanctuary workers having a smoke outside one of the side entrances, who had laughed and sent them back home when they’d found out what she and her cousin were attempting.
Ah, the innocence of youth. She missed it, the ability to go running headfirst and not think about the consequences. Now, she knew what would happen if she did something stupid, she knew the pain. She’d seen for herself…
Shaking the thought out of her head, she reached the wall and flattened herself to it, knife in hand, and, hearing a hushed conversation, peeped round the corner.

The lad from the library was leaning with one hand against the wall, keeping the weight off one leg, and hiding a grimace. In between him and her stood something St Dreg. Or was it Van Dreg? Les Dreg? Anyway, he was standing there, his cape swirling, which must have looked mildly impressive from the front, but from where she was she could see that the back of one of his trouser legs was tucked into a thermal sock. Not a good look, for anyone, let alone someone with aspirations of being a big bad. And then he did something horrific.
An Evil speech of Evil. What was the pillock thinking?
Ignoring him utterly, the lad looked up and, spotting her leaning against the wall, cocked an eyebrow. She grinned, and walked calmly towards Dreg, sheathing her knife, and then slipping her bag off of her back. Once she was one step behind him, she nodded at the lad. The boy grinned back.
“You think this is a smiling matter child?” roared Dreg. Well, Dreg thought it was a roar. It was actually closer to a mew.
“No. but I think seeing you knocked out with a massive book should be.”
“What?” Venice tapped him on his shoulder, and he span on his heel.
“Oh” she just nodded, smirked, and thwacked him round the head with the aforementioned massive book. Leaving Dreg to collapse to the damp ground, already unconscious, she walked over to the lad.
“Thanks Venice”
“You remember my name?” he nodded, and tapped the side of his head
“Retention mage” they said simultaneously. She grinned, then he grimaced. She looked at his leg, and pulled his arm over his shoulder.
“Come on, I’ll take you to a mate. It’s not far, thank heavens. You should be okay on the bike.”