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Rhealism part 2



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Fri Oct 15, 2010 8:54 am
cannoncomplex says...



before reading, here is a little background on my purpose for the making of this story.

Spoiler! :
the story of rhealism focus on the incident to character rather than the character to incident.
Rather than focusing on what the characters are doing to the incident, it will be focus on what the incident is doing to the characters. So Francesca and Cero are not the only one involved with the Rheal incident but a broader spectrum. Each character have their own style and ways on how to react. That is why the pace of Rhealism may be a bit slow because that is how they react.

Future stories may be faster and have some action unlike this. Also I do not want to explain the entire context through the main characters but broaden it to others. That way, there will be different versions on what is actually the nature of the Rheal incident.


The morning they headed to the vineyard by Pencarrow Head, Cero imagined a developed village with three or four factories, a cosy villa for them to stay and a pub to escape Francesca's bacon obsession. So when he saw a discarded piece of land, no wider than a kilometre. Cero imagined of strangling that drunken guy followed by chucking all of Francesca's bacon to the bin. That would make her cry.
All hope of finding Rheal seemed to fade. This was a piece of dump. It wasn't a village. Do four buildings make up a village? Two were wine factories while another was the wine shop that Francesca had talked about. The fourth building was not even a building. The thought of staying at a villa watching the sun set, was replaced by the facade of an abandoned fishing house.
It was some distance away from the Pencarrow lighthouse. The second floor was on the verge of toppling down, the toilets unplugged, sink rusted and the living room dominated by dust bunnies. The only thing that made this piece of cow manure better was a set of fish trophies. There were forty of them in total ranging from a sardine to the head of a great white. Francesca definitely fell in love with them. She even wanted to bring some back home, but that was a big no.
Four days on, the trophies were gone. Cero stood on top of a small hill overlooking Lake Kohangapiripiri. He placed both hands on his pockets, as he exhaled gazing at the moon as it rose above the cordillera. He tapped his suit, feeling the money bag on his palm.
The past three days spent on the vineyard was like a mini-version of the first three weeks of their mission. They found little. They were supposed to do some interviews but with no messengers around, the only left were zombies and interviewing them meant sitting for three hours waiting for a single word. So that was out and the only option left was to do some searching in the long grasses. That drongo had said that they witnessed a messenger around here but trusting a drunken guy was never a good thing, especially if the one who was being told was Francesca.
“Why was she my partner, again? This mission could have worked well if I was partnered if I was partnered with someone else.” He planted his palm on his face remembering how many times she whined whenever her clothes got damaged. “Anyway, I need to head back home. I bet she's whining again without me.”
He pressed the cigarette on the sole of his leather boots, spreading his fleshy wings by his back. He ran through the long grass. His wings flapped. His feet rose, seconds later. He took flight. The lake got smaller, as he soared higher over a sea of greenery. South Wairarapa lay behind it. A large province composed of small communities. There were neither zombies nor factories there. There were not under the direct control of Cancibrana. They were unproductive. Yet, they were still part of the Ruins. A backward region, he thought, landing before the fishing house. He folded the wings to his body, arching his back before pulling the door.
It was locked.
Cero raised a brow, moving back. There was no illumination from inside. He went around. Francesca's room was at the right end of the house. It was the same. The time was one in the morning. That was funny. Francesca should have been back. She was never the type to stay up this late. During their searching, he had found her sleeping in the long grass or, walking blankly among the bushes, half asleep.
“Cero!” He stiffened, looking back. Francesca waved at him, standing beside the facade of the fishing house.
“What are you doing there, Francesca?” he exclaimed, turning around.
“Come quick here, Cero! Let's celebrate! I found something!”
Cero trotted towards her, before she disappeared behind a large boulder. He paused. So Francesca found something? He placed both hands in his pockets, walking slowly towards the rock. He gazed down at the channel, behind the thick bushes. There was a warm orange glow by the coast. He took another smoke from his pocket. He covered his neck with his large purple scarf, after a southerly brushed his hair.
He found Francesca dancing beside the bonfire, holding her headphone against her ears, as if it weren't loud enough- he could hear tunes of Lady Gaga from within. She twirled around three to four times, moving her head side to side. Each twirl lifted her green skirt to the air revealing her legs that dance away in the sands. Her wings were spread out behind her back enclosing her as if Francesca was a caterpillar and the wings were the cocoon enclosing her for the final transformation. She was like a little child in a birthday party wearing a purple sleeveless vest over a red blouse. She didn't realize yet the reality of being a messenger.
“If you're this crazy, Francesca, I can't imagine how loony you were, before you became a messenger.” He chuckled as he watched her, almost blushing.
Francesca paused. She placed the headphones by her neck. “Cero, what took you so long?”
“Taken a smoke,” he grinned. “Anyway, what is all this celebration for? Usually, you would cook bacon, and now you're dancing. This must be big.”
“It is.” Francesca smiled. “Wait here for a moment while I grab it.”
“Just make sure that it's not lost again!” he shouted. Francesca jogged towards the wood drift behind her. Cero walked to the fire, rubbing his hands from the cold. He looked up watching the gathering clouds. It would rain soon, he predicted but it was no surprise. They were leaving near the coast so the weather was always unpredictable. Just this morning, his bedroom window cracked from the sheer pressure of the winds. There had been storms, hails, clear skies just within their four-day stay. If they have the television, he would have turned it off when the weather man began to predict tomorrow's weather.
He narrowed his eyes, facing the channel, watching the shadowy silhouette of the South Island. It was quite far away but distance didn't mattered. His wings felt cramped for the last few days, and a soar over the channel was an excellent idea. Too bad that it's outside the region. The parasite won't survive outside of Cancabrina's control but that doesn't meant he's out of options. Casually thinking remote beachers within the region, he prepared for a nice flight.
“Here it is.” Cero shook his head. Francesca stood before him, holding a blue cap with two square stitches at the front. “I found this dangling on a branch. So what do you think of it? It's important right? During our four days, we found nothing, so this cap is a momentum.”
Cero paused. He took out the smoke from his mouth, and dropped it to the sand.
“That's Rheal's cap.” he informed her.
“So it is -”
“Give it to me,” he called out. “Let me see it!”
Francesca blinked before she offered it to him. Cero fiercely grabbed the cap with both hands. He brought the cap before his face. He tightened his grip, as he stared at the two stitches. He gulped. Cero lowered the cap. Francesca tilted her head towards him.
“And to think that all you do is whine and eat. Guess you have your uses too, Francesca. Congratulations. We're heading back to the Ruins.”
“What,” Francesca exclaimed. “But we got the hat. She must have dropped it near here which means that she's still nearby. We can catch her if we hurry.”
“And what?” He retorted. Francesca moved back. “Kill her? Rheal is much more cunning than what you think. Finding this hat does not give us an advantage.”
“What are you saying?”
“It could be a trap. She wants us to follow her, and ambush us on the way! Can't you see it, you loony! Our mission may be to hunt and kill her but we can't take any chances! Things are different now, Francesca. Finding this hat means that she got the advantage.”
Francesca bit her lip. Cero grunted to himself, pressing his palm against his face.
“Let me explain. Rheal and I became partners three weeks after the Ruins were officially declared a city by the Wellington city council. To be honest, we were an odd pair. She belongs to the first generation of messengers that spawned from aborted foetuses. I, on the other hand, was an Adaptive, the second generation. We didn't come from foetuses but from actual people. I was recruited by an Aborted. At that time, the Aborted were no longer used as messengers but rather, they were hunters. I was hunted down by one and gave me its parasite that enabled Cancabrina to control me.
Anyway, our partnership was unusual but we did alright for an odd pair. Rheal was a little mature, though a bit of a pessimist. That is despite having the body of a thirteen year old. We got along, became friends and succeeded in a few missions. The only backdrop was her underdeveloped body. Because she stemmed from an aborted foetus, her organs were a little abnormal. We had to visit the hospital daily in case any of her organs are acting funny. I can't remember how many times, she suffered from heart attacks.”
Cero looked at Francesca. “Bottom line is,” he continued. “She faked her death, betrayed me and became the scapegoat of the Ruins. She had murdered a general messenger, and took the parasites from countless zombies. Now, she’s matured. Thanks to her collection, it seemed that she now has the body of a healthy twenty year old. This hat proves that her body is no longer underdeveloped. She used to hold unto it like an addiction. Now you found it. Doesn't make our job easy, is it?”
Francesca paused. She inhaled slowly, brushing her nose. Cero sighed. He walked towards her, and brushed her hair.
“Don't cry.” he looked at her eyes. “I apologize if I screamed. We'll head back to the Hutt tomorrow, and report this finding. We can't do anything but wait for her next move.”
“So what do we do now?” She looked up at him. Cero took his hand away from her.
Cero gazed at her. “Now that you got the cap, why don’t we celebrate in the beach? I can grab the wine by the fishing house, while you prepare the music. After four days of hard work, we need a break.”
“Can you bring the bacon? I want to have toasted bacon for the night.”
“Why not?” He spread out his wings, after a moment pause.
“Can I also play some Glee music?”
“Why don't we reserve it for another day? We don't want to waste our energy dancing, do we? Try having Jazz or even some Alternative. ”
Francesca clasped her hands. “That's a good idea. Resting in a cool night like this.It's wonderful! You do have good ideas, Cero!”
She trotted towards the wood drift, unplugging the headphones from her ipod. Cero chuckled as the music began to fill the cold Saturday night. He sighed, looking at the cap by his hands. Whatever you're trying to plan, Rheal. He exhaled. Don't put me... or Francesca...in a funny situation.
He placed Rheal's cap underneath his coat. He rolled his eyes, watching Francesca dancing beside the bonfire. He began running by the coast, taking flight
Last edited by cannoncomplex on Wed Oct 27, 2010 9:28 am, edited 2 times in total.
Lain Iwakura: If you're not remembered, then you never existed.
  





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Sat Oct 16, 2010 1:58 am
carbonCore says...



Spoiler! :
cannoncomplex wrote:
The vineyard by Pencarrow Head was nothing but a discarded piece of land, no wider than a kilometre. Even the village was far useless. There were only four buildings. Two were wine factories while another was the wine shop, that Francesca had talked about. [Breaks the narrative. If you refer to something someone else had done or said, it should be another character thinking or saying it] The fourth building was a wooden shed where a zombie was continuously waving. [Why was it waving? Who was it waving at?]

They stayed at an abandoned fishing house, a distance away from the Pencarrow lighthouse. The second floor was on the verge of toppling down, the toilets unplugged, kitchen's sink rusted and dust bunnies dominated the living room. [You break out of form by first going <noun> <adjective>, <noun> <adjective> and then <noun> <verb>. In other words, I think it should be "...sink rusted, and the living room dominated by dust bunnies."] The only thing that made this piece of cow manure better, was a set of fish trophies. There were forty of them in total, stretching ranging from a sardine to the head of a great white. Francesca definitely fell in love with them. She even wanted to bring some back home, but that was a big no. She doesn't [verb tense confusion] know how valuable these trophies are.

Four days on later, the trophies were gone. [Four days just passed this quickly?] Cero stood on top of a small hill overlooking Lake Kohangapiripiri. He placed both hands in his pockets, as he exhaled and he sighed. He gazed at the moon as it set slowly behind him, while another rose above the cordillera [another moon arose? I thought this was Earth?]. He tapped his suit, feeling the money bag on his palm.

“Better check on Francesca.” He murmured to himself. “Bet she's whining again without me.” [is he talking to himself? People in the movies do that to let the audience know what they're thinking, but here you can just write what he's thinking instead] He pressed the cigarrette on the sole of his leather boots, spreading his fleshy wings by his back [what the... he has wings? Why was this not revealed earlier? Wings are kind of a big deal...]. He ran through the long grass. His wings flapped, tainting the grasses with droplets of blood. [That doesn't sound very healthy if he loses blood every time he flies] His feet rose, seconds later. He took flight.

The lake to decrease in size, as he soared higher. The lake got smaller as he soared higher. By the horizon was a sea of greenery, South Wairarapa lay behind it. A large province, composed of small communities. There were neither zombies nor factories there. They were not under the direct control of Cancibrana. They were unproductive. Yet, they were still part of the Ruins. A backward region, he thought, landing before the fishing house. He folded the wings to his body, arching his back. He pulled the door. [You start two sentences in a row with "he"]

It was locked.

Cero raised a brow, moving back. There was no illumination from inside. He went around, to the left. Francesca's room was at the right end of the house. It was the same. The time was one in the morning. Francesca should have been back. She was never the type to stay up this late. During their searching, he had found her sleeping in the long grass or, walking blankly among the bushes, half asleep.

“Cero!” He stiffened, looking back. Francesca waved at him, standing beside the facade of the fishing house.

“What are you doing there, Francesca?”, he exclaimed, turning around.

"Come quick here, Cero! Let's celebrate! I found something!”

Cero trotted towards her, before she disappeared behind a large boulder. He paused, gaping his mouth. So Francesca found something? He placed both hands in his pockets, walking slowly towards the rock. He gazed down at the channel, behind the thick bushes. There was a warm orange glow by the coast. He took another smoke from his pocket. He covered his neck with his large purple scarf, after a southerly [southernly wind?] brushed his hair.

He found Francesca dancing beside the bonfire. She held her large headphones with her hands. She had let her wings spread out behind her. Cero chuckled.

“If you're this crazy, Francesca, I can't imagine how loony you were, before you became a messenger.”

Francesca paused. She placed the headphones by her neck. “Cero, what took you so long?”

“Taken a smoke.” He grinned. “Anyway, what all this celebration for? Mostly, Usually you would cook bacon, and now you're dancing. This must be big.”

“It is. ” Francesca smiled. “Wait here for a moment while I grabbed it.”

“Just make sure that it's not lost again!”, he shouted. Francesca jogged towards the wood drift behind her. Cero walked to the fire, rubbing his hands from the cold. He looked up. The clouds were gathering. It would rain soon. He narrowed his eyes, facing the channel. He turned his body to the sea. It would be a good time to soar, he exhaled through his nose. Then again, I won't last long if I venture outside of the Ruins. My parasite won't survive outside of Cancibrana's control. That's too bad. I heard that South Island was popular for adventurers like me...maybe next time. [the last three sentences are in first person rather than third.]

“Here it is.” Cero shook his head. Francesca stood before him, holding a blue cap with two square stitches at the front. “I found this dangling on a branch. So what do you think of it? It's important, right? During our four days, we found nothing, so this cap is a momentum.”

Cero paused, gaping his mouth. He took out the smoke from his mouth, and dropped it to the sand.

“That's Rheal's cap.”, he informed her.

“So it is -”

“Give it to me!”, he called out. “Let me see it!”

Francesca blinked before she offered it to him. Cero fiercely grabbed the cap with both hands. He brought the cap before his face. He tightened his grip, as he stared at the two stitches. He gulped, inhaling loudly [how do you gulp and inhale at the same time?]. Cero lowered the cap. Francesca tilted her head towards him.

“And to think that all you do is whine and eat. Guess you have your uses too, Francesca. Congratulations. We're heading back to the Ruins.”

“What?”, Francesca exclaimed. “But we got the hat. She must have dropped it near here which means that she's still nearby. We can catch her if we hurry.”

“And what?” He retorted. Francesca moved back. “Kill her? Rheal is much more cunning than what you think. Finding this hat does not give us an advantage.”

“What are you saying?”

“It could be a trap. She want us to follow her, and ambushus on the way! Can't you see it with your pathetic brain! [no, unless her brain can see - I thought the eyes were for that] Our mission may be to hunt and kill her but we can't take any chances! Things are different now, Francesca. Finding this hat means that she got the advantage.”

Francesca bit her lip. Cero grunted to himself, pressing his palm against his face.

“Three weeks after the Ruins was a declared a city by the Wellington region, we became partners.” He explained, facing the bonfire. “We were an odd pair. I was an Adaptive while she was an Aborted. That was unusual since the Aborted were no longer used as messengers. They were mostly recruiters. I was recruited by one. It gave me its parasite, before it disintegrated. Anyway, we did alright for an odd pair. We succeeded in a dozen or so missions. We got along. We were good friends. No relationship or anything, just friends. The only backdrop was her underdeveloped body. Had to visit the hospital daily, each time she complained of an organ failure. [you don't complain from organ failure, you die from it. If she didn't die from organ failure, then she didn't need her organs, therefore she didn't need to go to the hospital] Can't remember how many times, she suffered from heart attacks.”

Cero looked at Francesca. “Bottom line is,”, he continued. “She faked her death, betrayed me and became the scapegoat of the Ruins. She had murdered a general messenger, and took the parasites from countless zombies. Now'sshe's matured. Thanks to her collection, it seemed that she now has the body of a healthy twenty year old. This hat proves that her body is no longer underdeveloped. She used to hold unto it like an addiction. [why? how did the hat help her underdeveloped body?] Now you found it. Doesn't make our job easy, does it?”

Francesca paused. She inhaled slowly, rushing her nose [how does one rush their nose?]. Cero sighed. He walked towards her, and brushed her hair.

“Don't cry.” he looked at her eyes. “I apologized if I screamed. We'll head back to the Hutt tomorrow, and report this finding. We can't do anything but wait for her next move.”

“So what do we do now?” She looked up at him. Cero took his hand away from her.

Cero gazed at her. “Now that you the cap, why don't we celebrate? I can grabbed the wine by the fishing house, while you prepare the music. After four days of hard work, we need a break.” [so what, they're going to celebrate in a little fishing house?]

“Can you bring the bacon? I want to have toasted bacon for the night.”

“Why not?” He spread out his wings, after a moment pause.

“Can I also play some Glee music?”

“Why don't we reserve it for another day. We don't want to waste our energy dancing, do we? Try having Jazz or even some Alternative. ”

Francesca clasped her hands. “That's a good idea. Resting in a cool night like this.It's wonderful! You do have good ideas, Cero!”

She trotted towards the wood drift, unplugging the headphones from her iPod. Cero chuckled as the music began to fill the cold Saturday night. He sighed, looking at the cap by his hands. Whatever you're trying to plan, Rheal. He exhaled. Don't put me... or Francesca...in a funny situation.

He placed Rheal's cap underneath his coat. He rolled his eyes, watching Francesca dancing beside the bonfire. He began running by the coast, taking flight.


The spoiler above contains an in-depth review of the work. My comments are inside [red brackets].

Cannoncomplex, I will be frank. Please, please, please edit your work thoroughly before you post - read it over, run it through a spell-checker, read it over again, make sure the grammar is correct, read it over again, make sure the formatting is correct, read it over again! If you don't love your work so much that you want to keep re-reading it over and over, how can we? I spent more time correcting little spelling and grammar mistakes than critiquing the actual text. The piece, as it is right now, is very difficult to understand because the unholy mass of small issues clouded the view as a whole. However, I will try to do the best I can...

I like where you're going with this story-wise, I really do. However, the characters, as they are right now, don't work with each other very well. Cero keeps insulting Francesca, and she keeps putting up with it without any complaints or anything at all. That's not very believable, I certainly wouldn't want to work with a jerk that only pushes me around!

In terms of technical issues, you keep putting extra spaces between words (sometimes up to three spaces, it looks weird and breaks the flow), plus there are lots of spelling and grammar mistakes. Your writing suffers from beige prose at times, which is basically very simple sentences with absolutely no description. Here are a couple cases:

He found Francesca dancing beside the bonfire. She held her large headphones with her hands. She had let her wings spread out behind her. Cero chuckled.


He looked up. The clouds were gathering. It would rain soon. He narrowed his eyes, facing the channel. He turned his body to the sea. It would be a good time to soar, he exhaled through his nose.


There are much more interesting ways to write this.

He found Francesca dancing to the music from her large earphones beside the bonfire, her spread wings sometimes bobbing dangerously close to the flames. She held the earphones tight to her ears, as if it weren't loud enough - he could still hear tunes of the Beatles from within. Such silliness, Cero chuckled to himself.


He didn't need to look up to know that rainclouds had already been on their way: the sun had dimmed some time ago, and the weather man predicted a 40% chance of storms for today. He eyed the channel; the other end was quite far away, but distance mattered little to him. His wings felt awfully cramped for the last few days, and he figured that out-flying the rain would provide for some excellent exercise. Casually going over favourite locations for recreational soaring, he prepared for a nice flight to the distant beach.


...or something. You get the idea. It might seem tough to write like this at first, but you gotta push yourself - that's how you get better, right? Get out of that comfort zone, make up some awesome sentences, and make me jealous. :)

Both this and the earlier chapter frustrate me to a degree. Not because I don't enjoy reading or critiquing it; not at all. It's just that there is so much potential in your world, your characters, and your plot, it hurts so much to see it all go to waste from silly things like spelling mistakes and grammar inconsistencies. When you write, do you see your world? Do you imagine it? I think you do, but you don't let us see it that well because of the blandness of most of your passages. Decorate them a little, throw some details in that the reader would otherwise never know (like in my examples above). This does wonders to your world and how your readers see it. I await the next chapter.

Best of luck.
_
  





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Sat Oct 16, 2010 1:36 pm
carbonCore says...



Spoiler! :
cannoncomplex wrote:
The morning they headed to the vineyard by Pencarrow Head, Cero imagined a developed village with three or four factories, a cosy villa for them to stay and a pub to escape Francesca's bacon obsession. So when he saw a discarded piece of land, no wider than a kilometre, Cero thought of strangling that drunk guy who gave his partner this idea. All hope of finding Rheal seemed to fade. This was a piece of dump. It wasn't a village. Does four buildings make up a village? Two were wine factories while another was the wine shop, that Francesca had talked about. The fourth building was not even a building. The thought of staying at a villa watching the sun set was replaced by the facade of an abandoned fishing house.

It was a some distance away from the Pencarrow lighthouse. The second floor was on the verge of toppling down, the toilets unplugged, sink rusted and the living room dominated dominated by dust bunnies. The only thing that made this piece of cow manure better, was a set of fish trophies. There were forty of them in total ranging from a sardine to the head of a great white. Francesca definitely fell in love with them. She even wanted to bring some back home, but that was a big no.

Four days on, the trophies were gone. Cero stood on top of a small hill overlooking Lake Kohangapiripiri. He placed both hands on his pockets, as he exhaled. He gazed at the moon as it rose above the cordillera. He tapped his suit, feeling the money bag on his palm. [three sentences in a row starting with "he"]

The past three days spent on the vineyard was like a mini-version of the first three weeks of their mission. They found little. They were supposed to do some interviews but with no messengers around, the only left were zombies and interviewing them meant sitting for three hours waiting for a single word. So that was out and the only option left was to do some searching in the long grasses. That went smoothly for a moment, until Francesca began to whine, telling Cero that the search was damaging her clothes.

“Why was she my partner, again? This mission could have worked well if I was partnered if I was partnered with someone else.” He murmured to himself placing his palm on his face. “Anyway, I need to head back home. I bet she's whining again without me.” He pressed the cigarette on the sole of his leather boots, spreading his fleshy wings by his back. He ran through the long grass. His wings flapped. His feet rose, seconds later. He took flight. [the last four sentences are still a bit bland]

The lake got smaller, as he soared higher. By the horizon was a sea of greenery. South Wairarapa lay behind it. A large province, composed of small communities. There were neither zombies nor factories there. They were not under the direct control of Cancibrana. They were unproductive. Yet, they were still part of the Ruins. A backward region, he thought, landing before the fishing house. He folded the wings to his body, arching his back before pulling the door.

It was locked.

Cero raised a brow, moving back. There was no illumination from inside. He went around. Francesca's room was at the right end of the house. It was the same. The time was one in the morning. That was funny. Francesca should have been back. She was never the type to stay up this late. During their searching, he had found her sleeping in the long grass or, walking blankly among the bushes, half asleep.

“Cero!” He stiffened, looking back. Francesca waved at him, standing beside the facade of the fishing house.

“What are you doing there, Francesca?” he exclaimed, turning around.

“Come quick here, Cero! Let's celebrate! I found something!”

Cero trotted towards her, before she disappeared behind a large boulder. He paused. So Francesca found something? He placed both hands in his pockets, walking slowly towards the rock. He gazed down at the channel, behind the thick bushes. There was a warm orange glow by the coast. He took another smoke from his pocket. He covered his neck with his large purple scarf, after a southernly brushed his hair.

He found Francesca dancing beside the bonfire, holding her headphone against her ears, as if it weren't loud enough- he could hear tunes of Lady Gaga from within. She twirled around three to four times, moving her head side to side. Each twirl lifted her green skirt to the air revealing her legs that dance away in the sands. Her wings were spread out behind her back enclosing her as if Francesca was a caterpillar and the wings were the cocoon enclosing her for the final transformation. She was like a little child in a birthday party wearing a purple sleeveless vest over a red blouse. She didn't realized yet the reality of being a messenger. [Excellent paragraph!]

“If you're this crazy, Francesca, I can't imagine how loony you were, before you became a messenger.” He chuckled as he watched her, almost blushing.

Francesca paused. She placed the headphones by her neck. “Cero, what took you so long?”

“Taken a smoke.” He grinned. “Anyway, what all this celebration for? Usually, you would cook bacon, and now you're dancing. This must be big.”

“It is. ” Francesca smiled. “ Wait here for a moment while I grab it.”

“Just make sure that it's not lost again!” he shouted. Francesca jogged towards the wood drift behind her. Cero walked to the fire, rubbing his hands from the cold. He looked up watching the gathering clouds. It would rain soon, he predicted but it was no surprise. They were leaving near the coast so the weather was always unpredictable. Just this morning, his bedroom window cracked by the sheer pressure of the winds. There had been storms, hails, clear skies just within their four-day stay. If they had the television, he would have turned it off when the weather man began to predict tomorrow's weather.

He narrowed his eyes, facing the channel watching the shadowy silhouette of the South Island. It was quite far away but distance didn't mattered. His wings felt cramped for the last few days, and a soar over the channel was an excellent idea. Too bad that it's outside the region. The parasite won't survive outside of Cancabrina's control but that doesn't meant he's out of options. Casually thinking remote beaches within the region, he prepared for a nice flight.

“Here it is.” Cero shook his head. Francesca stood before him, holding a blue cap with two sqaure stitches at the front. “I found this dangling on a branch. So what do you think of it? It's important right? During our four days, we found nothing, so this cap is a momentum.”

Cero paused. He took out the smoke from his mouth, and dropped it to the sand.

“That's Rheal's cap.” he informed her.

“So it is -”

“Give it to me,” he called out. “Let me see it!”

Francesca blinked before she offered it to him. Cero fiercely grabbed the cap with both hands. He brought the cap before his face. He tightened his grip, as he stared at the two stitches. He gulped. Cero lowered the cap. Francesca tilted her head towards him.

“And to think that all you do is whine and eat. Guess you have your uses too, Francesca. Congratulations. We're heading back to the Ruins.”

“What?” Francesca exclaimed. “But we got the hat! She must have dropped it near here which means that she's still nearby. We can catch her if we hurry.”

“And what?” He retorted. Francesca moved back. “Kill her? Rheal is much more cunning than what you think. Finding this hat does not give us an advantage.”

“What are you saying?”

“It could be a trap. She want us to follow her, and ambush us on the way! Can't you see it, you loony! Our mission may be to hunt and kill her but we can't take any chances! Things are different now, Francesca. Finding this hat means that she got the advantage.”

Francesca bit her lip. Cero grunted to himself, pressing his palm against his face.

“Let me explain. Three weeks after the Ruins was a declared a city by the Wellington region, we became partners.” He explained said, [he just said he'll be explaining, so you don't need to restate the fact that he's explaining something] facing the bonfire. “We were an odd pair. I was an Adaptive while she was an Aborted. That was unusual since the Aborted were no longer used as messengers. They were mostly recruiters. I was recruited by one. It gave me its parasite, before it disintegrated. Anyway, we did alright for an odd pair. We succeeded in a dozen or so mission. We got along. We were good friends. No relationship or anything, just friends. The only backdrop was her underdeveloped body. Had to visit the hospital daily for check-ups in case any of her organs are acting funny. Can't remember how many times, she suffered from heart attacks.”

Cero looked at Francesca. “Bottom line is,” he continued. “She faked her death, betrayed me and became the scapegoat of the Ruins. She had murdered a general messenger, and took the parasites from countless zombies. Now, she's matured. Thanks to her collection, it seemed that she now has the body of a healthy twenty year old. This hat proves that her body is no longer underdeveloped. She used to hold unto it like an addiction. Now you found it. Doesn't make our job easy, does it?”

Francesca paused. She inhaled slowly, brushing her nose. Cero sighed. He walked towards her, and brushed her hair.
“Don't cry.” he looked at her eyes. “I apologize if I screamed. We'll head back to the Hutt tomorrow, and report this finding. We can't do anything but wait for her next move.”

“So what do we do now?” She looked up at him. Cero took his hand away from her.

Cero gazed at her. “Now that you got the cap, why don't we celebrate in the beach? I can grab the wine by the fishing house, while you prepare the music. After four days of hard work, we need a break.”

“Can you bring the bacon? I want to have toasted bacon for the night.”

“Why not?” He spread out his wings, after a moment pause.

“Can I also play some Glee music?”

“Why don't we reserve it for another day. We don't want to waste our energy dancing, do we? Try having Jazz or even some Alternative. ”

Francesca clasped her hands. “That's a good idea. Resting in a cool night like this.It's wonderful! You do have good ideas, Cero!”

She trotted towards the wood drift, unplugging the headphones from her ipod. Cero chuckled as the music began to fill the cold Saturday night. He sighed, looking at the cap by his hands. Whatever you're trying to plan, Rheal. He exhaled. Don't put me... or Francesca...in a funny situation.

He placed Rheal's cap underneath his coat. He rolled his eyes, watching Francesca dancing beside the bonfire. He began running by the coast, taking flight.


MUCH better! :D I actually found myself smiling as I read some of your passages. It feels excellent to give advice and then see the other person actually use it in their piece.

A few things - once again, spelling. Check the spoiler above for the things I noticed and corrected, if you see a word highlighted in red, that means it was misspelled in your original and I corrected it. Also you've still got some beige prose lurking in there, but it's nowhere near as bad as it was before. The text is now actually fun to read, and if you worked just a little more description into those passages of bland text, it would really become a very good piece.

Now that I could read it and see the plot behind the chapter, I was... a little disappointed, mainly because I couldn't find anything to critique. :D Seems that what you lack in technical skill, you make up for with excellent plot writing. I don't mind the lack of action anymore, because what you've got your characters doing is exciting enough that you don't need much else.

All in all, very well done. Can't wait for the next instalment.

Good luck.
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You can't blame the writer for what the characters say.
— Truman Capote