Hello, LJ Land!
Jul. 29th, 2011 10:36 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
deborahjrossWhat's new here:
I've been digging into revisions of The Children of Kings and have passed the half-way mark. This is a first-pass revision before sending it off to the MZB Literary Works Trust for review and approval. I need to tidy up the manuscript and fix any obvious stupidities, but not do a fine polish - that will come after editorial revisions. Although I'm having a bit of delayed re-entry-lag from Launch Pad 2011, I'm feeling quite pleased with this book. I took the story out of the usual locales and sent one character off into the Dry Towns and another into the Yellow Forest (chieri territory). Here's a snippet from Silvana's POV:
"So you have come back to us." The words came in a low voice, the casta archaic but perfectly clear in the way an ancient chant would be understood in spirit as well as syllable.
Between one pulse of her heart and the next, a chieri emerged from between the silvery trunks. The figure was, as all those ancient people, tall and slender, androgynously beautiful. Gray hair fell halfway to narrow hips; the only garment was a sleeveless tunic that looked as if it had been woven from tree bark and moonlight. Colorless eyes met Silvana's without a hint of emotion.
No welcome, no censure, no curiosity. Only the immense gift of recognition. Why had she expected more?
She raised her fingertips to her forehead and said, in the language of the chieri, "Foster-father." The word actually meant, Nurturer-of-children-who-belong-to-the-race.
"The river flows in only one direction," Diravanariel answered, keeping to casta.
"All water is one," she answered. "Did you not teach me that truth yourself?"
A chuckle answered her as a second figure stepped from behind the largest of the trees. "You must concede the point, Dirav. There's no hope when she starts quoting your own words back at you."
"Uncle David!" All dignity fled, she rushed into the Terranan doctor's arms.
As he drew her tight against him, she felt thinness of his flesh, the withering of muscle, the brittleness of bone. Very much like one of these ancient trees, however, he retained surprising strength for a man of his years. She pulled away, looking up into his smiling eyes, saw the lines of laughter bracketing his mouth, the mass of silvered hair, and thought, My father might look like this, had he lived.
I've been digging into revisions of The Children of Kings and have passed the half-way mark. This is a first-pass revision before sending it off to the MZB Literary Works Trust for review and approval. I need to tidy up the manuscript and fix any obvious stupidities, but not do a fine polish - that will come after editorial revisions. Although I'm having a bit of delayed re-entry-lag from Launch Pad 2011, I'm feeling quite pleased with this book. I took the story out of the usual locales and sent one character off into the Dry Towns and another into the Yellow Forest (chieri territory). Here's a snippet from Silvana's POV:
"So you have come back to us." The words came in a low voice, the casta archaic but perfectly clear in the way an ancient chant would be understood in spirit as well as syllable.
Between one pulse of her heart and the next, a chieri emerged from between the silvery trunks. The figure was, as all those ancient people, tall and slender, androgynously beautiful. Gray hair fell halfway to narrow hips; the only garment was a sleeveless tunic that looked as if it had been woven from tree bark and moonlight. Colorless eyes met Silvana's without a hint of emotion.
No welcome, no censure, no curiosity. Only the immense gift of recognition. Why had she expected more?
She raised her fingertips to her forehead and said, in the language of the chieri, "Foster-father." The word actually meant, Nurturer-of-children-who-belong-to-the-race.
"The river flows in only one direction," Diravanariel answered, keeping to casta.
"All water is one," she answered. "Did you not teach me that truth yourself?"
A chuckle answered her as a second figure stepped from behind the largest of the trees. "You must concede the point, Dirav. There's no hope when she starts quoting your own words back at you."
"Uncle David!" All dignity fled, she rushed into the Terranan doctor's arms.
As he drew her tight against him, she felt thinness of his flesh, the withering of muscle, the brittleness of bone. Very much like one of these ancient trees, however, he retained surprising strength for a man of his years. She pulled away, looking up into his smiling eyes, saw the lines of laughter bracketing his mouth, the mass of silvered hair, and thought, My father might look like this, had he lived.
