Young Writers Society

Information:


Classes are in the order they happen during the day. Lunch Hour happens between the third and fourth periods.

The Sparrows:


The Robins:

The Ravens:


Swans:





Pigeons:

BlueJays:

Cardinals:

Eagles:




Some Story Information:

Rules:

Character Information:

Character Template:

Character Slots:

Starting!

Serina

Serina sighed, fingering the seashell necklace clasped around her throat. The carriage bounced up and down over the rough road towards the schools. Even the plush bench she sat on did nothing to minimize the power of the bumps shifting her tiny body around. She had been travelling for days, the driver her only companion, other than the terrain outside. They had gone through kingdom after kingdom, after kingdom, so many; she could not remember their names. This year at YLA, she would have to not only memorize their names, but the important historic events from each kingdom.
Serina had come to Princess School twice before, when she was twelve and thirteen. Now, she was fourteen, a Raven. The classes would be harder than ever, but she relished a challenge. She was nervous though. A lot of the same girls from before would be there, as well as many new faces. This frightened her, being a very quiet person, she didn’t enjoy socialization very often.
“Driver, where are we?” she called out the window.
“We’re in the YLA and PTA Province now, on their official territory. We’ll be there by the end of the day!”
Serina breathed a sigh of relief. She was tired of sleeping in the carriage at night and was ready to enjoy a night sleeping in a soft, cushiony mattress.
Serina spent the rest of the day getting ready to arrive at school. She shuttered the windows and peeled off her travel dress, smoothing out the wrinkles before she folded it up. Serina stood, feet apart to keep her balance, in her pale shift. She took out a hand-held mirror and gazed at her reflection. “Needs some work…” she mumbled.
She opened up a small carry-on bag, pulling out several things. The first item was a tortoise shell hair brush. She ran it through her frizzy red locks and spattered some water on her hair to keep it smooth, all the way down to her mid-back. She then applied some light cosmetics to her face, remembering the lessons from the two previous years and school. After making sure her face was as pretty as she could make it, she pulled her arriving dress out of the bag.
It was soft, green, and satiny. The tailor who made it was a real master; it was perfect in every way. Her father, the king of Onceal, gave it to her as a final parting gift. She slipped the fabric over her head and felt it breathlessly fall to her ankles. Looking in a larger mirror, she gasped. Her timid and shy self looked stronger, older, and more confident.
The green fabric had a square neckline that straightened her shoulders and filled out her chest. The waist was tapered, making her look thin and pleasing to the eye. The tiny golden flowers were embroidered all over from the waist down, adding flashes of color that caught the light.
She was ready for princess school.
In a few hours, they finally pulled into sight of the gates. “Welcome to ‘The Finesse School of Young Ladies Academy’ and ‘The Fine School of Princely-Training Academy’ ” a sign read. Once inside the gates, she saw the lush grass everywhere, as well as the fine building where her classes would be. A large hedge separated the girls and boys campuses.
She pulled up in front of the school building and a man opened the door for her. She gulped, took his hand, and stepped out of the carriage. “Thank-you” she mumbled under her breath. Porters un-loaded all of her bags and the head mistress came to greet her.
“Hello Princess! Where do you hail from, what is your name, and what year are you?” the headmistress is an uptight, busy lady who always carries a clipboard and always has her hair up in a bun. She seems sort of batty and no one knows her name, only to call her, ‘headmistress’.
“I’m the princess in line to rule from the kingdom of Onceal, Princess Ochala Serina Useli, a Raven.” I whispered.
“Good, very good” The headmistress checked her off of the list. “You are in room 17. You are one of the first people to arrive, but I expect all the other students to be along soon. None of your roommates are here yet.” Serina memorized her room number. “Here,” said the Headmistress “Is a list of your classes in order of when you have them. Do not lose this scroll. As well, here is a map of the campuses.” She handed them to Serina. Other carriages began to pull up. The Headmistress walked away, saying over her shoulder, “The horn will blow at dinner time. We’ll go over the rules then. Stay in your room until then!”
Serina found her way to her apartment quickly, being familiar with the buildings. The porters followed behind, bringing her belongings. Inside the apartment were four beds. She chose the one nearest to the window because it also had a window seat. There were four because one student from each year would stay in one room together, to encourage mingling among the years.
Serina let the porters just set her bags down, she would organize it herself, but she wanted to look through the room first. Each bed had a canopy and plush mattresses. A trunk lay at the foot of each bed and a comfortable rug covered the entire floor. Each bed had an ornate desk where she set her papers, as well as a wardrobe closer by. Tucked into a corner, a dressing table with a stool sat, waiting to be used. There was a door on one side of the room. Opening it, she found it led to a lavatory, a spacious tub included, not to mention the gold rimmed mirror. Serina went back to her bed, sat down, and sighed.
“Am I really ready for princess school?”

Sajan Meilyr | Cardinal

The interior of the carriage was decorated with fine, purple satin, and the cushions were made out of duck feathers. The walls had been painted a rich red, the color of the Kingdom it came from, no doubt made from the red berries that flourished the mountains instead of the cheap artificial paint. Accents and beautiful intricate designs painted with gold decorated every surface that could be decorated, including the exterior. The carriage couldn't have been made out of prouder material, and the glistening black horses that pulled it raised their heads high, as if they knew a thing or two about wealth, and this was it.

Sajan Meilyr, the Third Prince of Vorestes, decided that he didn't like it.

He absently bit his fingernails, much to his nurse's dismay, but he ignored the outcry of scold from the older man. There was probably a much more dignified title than nurse, but that what was the man was- his nurse. Sajan didn't much care for over-glorifications, this being one of them.

"'Now remember,'" His over-glorified nurse was saying, "'You are here to represent Vorestes. All of your actions will reflect on the country, therefore on the royal family including Prince Aeneas, who I must say is a fine heir, and lastly the Queen and the King. That means no fighting, no skipping your classes, no not paying attention, no unruly behavior what-so-ever, and finally-'" He grabbed Sajan's hand, which was in the process of its fingernails being chewed off, and placed it in the Prince's lap. '"-No chewing your fingernails. Do I make myself clear?'"

"'Crystal.'" Sajan said, looking out of the window. The impressive shadow of the Academy was looming in the distance, where two distinctly different buildings seemed to be glaring at each other, at least with their presence. As they approached Sajan looked from one building to the next, separated only by a hedge. So the princesses get that, and the princes get that? Even as he silently complained, he felt drawn to the dark and ominous castle that he would be living in.

His nurse clucked over him as he exited, swinging himself out before the horses have fully stopped, and waited for the servants that accompanied his trip to begin unloading his belongings (purposefully barren; only because everyone wished him to bring more). As they unloaded a tall, haughty man approached, a clipboard and pen in his hand, which his large nose protruded into and his dull, lustless eyes were focused on.

But bewilderness filled those boring eyes as he tried to pronounce his name. "Sa-Sha- saun- Shagun Mull- Myler-"

"Sajan Meilyr, Prince of Vorestes. Cardinal." He made his tongue thick with his native accent, which didn't help the man to pronounce his name at all. He decided to play the foreigner to these diffused lands. Sajan was the first Prince from his recently discovered but ancient Kingdom to come to the Academy, and he had to take multiple tests to enter into the grade that others his age would be in. He would have to be the pioneer, the one who tested the waters, for the future generations of princes and princesses of Vorestes.

Finally the man just gave up. "Yes, yes. Here is your room number and other information - please stay in your room until the horn is blown, and then make your way into the dining room."

The man indirectly dismissed him as he moved on to the next carriage. Sajan turned to watch his own glorified contraption strut away, the horse's tails swinging, to catch the stern and pressured look from his nurse. The Prince swiveled towards the castle's doors, pulling the few supplies and knickknacks that had been jammed into only a few duffel bags behind him.

Alexandra Camille Miraliweth

I promenade out onto the balcony protruding from the outside wall of my room on the third floor of my colossal castle, where my mother is waiting for me. I know it is time to go to the The Finesse School of Young Ladies Academy. I have mixed feelings about the place. I do not want to leave my family, but I am eager to show my potential.

"Alexandra Camille, today is the day you leave," she affirms. "You will be there for four years, so I came to see you off. Me and your father will miss you greatly."

"I will miss you too mother," I reply. I look down at myself, straightening my dress.

"We're holding a parade to see you off. You should get ready," she points out.

"Yes mother, I answer again. I turn around, opening the glass doors into my room. My maids instantly swarm around me, shouting out questions about my preparations.

"What dress will you wear? The pink one or the blue one," asks one of them.

"Blue please, Mary-Anne," I reply, looking to the next maid.

"The gold or the silver tiara? The ruby gems or the sapphire," asks the other.

"Silver tiara with sapphire gems, please, Emily," I answer.

"I'm guessing you'd like the blue shoes? Tell me if you would like any other."

"Indeed, the blue shoes would match with my outfit," I reply. They help me into my clothing quickly, then practically shove me out the door. I don't want to be late!

~~~

I parade out of the palace doors to my more-than-ravishing yellow-and-gold carriage that complements the color of my dress and shoes. It is pulled by eighteen white horses draped in yellow silk. The doorman opens the door for me and I step inside. The cushions are blue and are filled with the down feathers of an exotic bird sold to our kingdom by a man who says that the bird is called an eclectus. The inside of the carriage is draped with blue silk and has polished gold decorating many places.

~~~

My chaperone enters the carriage, and we start moving down the path, followed by many different parade entertainments. Soon we arrive at The Finesse School of Young Ladies Academy. The castle is prettier then I really expected, but not as pretty as the palace back in Miraliweth. I expect the tallest tower to be the detention room.

~~~

The maids who came with me unload my luggage and carry them close behind me. I pace towards The Academy behind my chaperone. I push the doors open. My chaperone announces my entrance, and the headmistress comes over to greet me. she tells me my room number, gives me my class schedule and a map of the campus, and tells me to come to dinner when the horn blows. I walk up the stairs to my room.

~~~

I enter a posh room draped with blue velvet, numbered room 44 and choose the bed near the window. My maids unload my belongings and organize them immaculately.

Willa

I walked into my dorm and heaved my single giant suitcase onto my bed. Every piece of me dreaded coming back here. I even pitched a fit when the carriage arrived, but Mother and Father insisted. I unzipped the bag and emptied the clothes onto the floor. What I really wanted was what I had hidden underneath the useless crinkled dresses. I couldn't help but smiling when I pulled out my bow and quiver of arrows. I ran my hand along the metal edge of my bow. Liam, my brother, bought me the bow from one of the rare times when we traded with the Vorestinians. He told me he actually saw one when he made the trade.

I put both the bow and arrows back in the empty suitcase and carefully hid it in the closet. I glanced down with disgust at the crumpled pile of fabric on my floor. I was not made for dresses. I was made for parkas and snow. The thermostat on the wall said it was fifty in the room but I could still feel sweat beading on my forehead. I quickly turned it down, my roommate will just have to get used to it. I noticed a note on my dresser reminding me of the opening ceremonial dinner tonight. I rolled my eyes and tossed it on the floor with everything else.

When I looked back up I studied myself in the mirror. My hair, which was originally intricately braided, was now a mess of fly-aways and half falling out. I was still dressed in the cargo jeans and tight fitted shirt I left Polarcia in. I knew it wouldn't be acceptable for the ceremony, but I didn't care. The dresses and the makeup are the worst part. An idea popped into my mind and I picked the invitation back up off the floor. Nowhere on it did it say attending was mandatory.. Of course, everyone would be there out of respect, but... I looked back over in the closet where my bow was taunting me.

Screw it, I decided. I yanked on the ribbon holding what's left of my braid in place then shook out my hair. I lazily put it in a loose ponytail and dug through my pile of clothes for my ski mask. In Polarcia, you can't go out for long periods of time without one or else you'll get hypothermia or frost bite. When I found it I pulled it over my face and peered out the window. My room was on the second story, but the jump didn't seem too bad. Liam and I used to climb trees higher than this and jump off them. Granted, there was always snow to soften our landing but I was confident I could make this jump too. With the ski mask covering my face, I grabbed my bow and quiver of arrows then opened the window. I knew if I thought about it too long I would chicken out so I counted to three and jumped.

As soon as I landed pain shot up through my heels all the way up my shins. I hadn't bent my legs enough when I hit the ground. I whispered a few choice words under my mouth and slung my quiver over my shoulder. I dashed around the back of the castle and towards the archery range. The sun was beginning to set which is still slightly strange to me. In Polarcia the sun hardly ever sets. I took a minute to calm my breathing then retrieved an arrow from it's holder. I strung the bow and aimed it at the target.

Inhale. Exhale. Shoot.

Sajan Meilyr | Cardinal

Sage decided that he hated formal outsider clothes.

The fabric was heavy and rough, a dingy white that was more of a dirty ivory, which had waspish stitches and unnecessary designs that caused angry welts along his flaxen skin. It was shaped to contort his natural slim frame, with small shoulder pads to embolden his shoulders, and then that blunt strength petered out to a narrow waist that pestered him when he turned. The pants were a blood colored red that dropped at the waist and then narrowed again at the ankles to compensate for the garishly heavy black shoes that appeared to be slightly too big and much too shiny, and a red and gold sash flashed across his chest like a war wound. The collar, reinforced with something stiff, stood like a dutiful soldier around his neck, ready to suffocate him if he tried to turn too sharply. And just to make sure that he didn't look too overdone, the costume came with simple white gloves.

There were influences of his country scattered across the outfit, with a few of the dyed feathers Vorestes was famous for tied on golden strings to his left shoulder, and the fact that the material of the sash stood out a little differently than everything else, and that the buttons were hand made, most likely laced with gold. Even though it flattered him from what he was used to, he felt that it wasn't right. With a disgusted flick of his hands, he untangled the contraption off of him and hung it up, flipping on his real, native clothes, with of course a few modifications; he didn't think the Academy would take kindly to him strutting into the dining room mostly bare-chested, anyways.

The clothes were gloriously simple, with a homemade white knit sweater with a knitted hood and unique, blocky grey designs on the shoulders with a pair of black pants. Sage slung his necklace around his head that he had gotten as a gift from someone close back home, which swooped gracefully down his chest, its multicolored feathers curling slightly at the ends that were separated by rough golden beads. He opted to go with bare thin moccasins, what he wore when he wasn't barefoot, and as he went out the door remembered hygiene and popped a few mint leaves in his mouth, running his fingers through his dark hair with the other hand.

The bell had rung a small while ago, but as he walked other princes from other lands walked the same direction as him, and he watched them with careful eyes. Unlike him, they were dressed in finery, looking like a parade of riches. Unlike him, they wore obvious signatures of their countries on their clothing, winking in the fancy hallway light. Unlike him, they walked like the gazes of their queens and kings were trickling down their backs, forcing them straight and their stride confident; or, as a more fitting way to put it, like they were walking with their future rivals, and feared being labeled as weak.

Sajan stuck out, but at the same time, he was invisible next to this trail mix of sparkle and flash. He felt slightly disquieted, seeing the differences between these people and the ones he's used to, and then he quickly replaced this feeling with a cool outlook. These people were the strange ones; not him.

The dining hall was a splash of warm colors and mahogany, with a high arched ceiling that looked down on the four parallel running tables that stretched the length of the large room. A grand table with golden accents, set up so it was four steps higher than everything else in the room, was decorated with sparkling drapes, and twelve adults that sat in extravagant chairs watched the flow of students with the eye of authority. On the opposite side of the room was another entrance that was similar to the one Sajan entered through, and girls in expensive and dazzling gowns filed in, a wash of giggles and high pitched voices. There seemed to be no specific separation of the tables, so the two genders mixed as they found seats. Sage, weaving around the stiff bodies, found his seat in the middle of one of the tables, eyeing those that couldn't find any other seats that then sat near him. And then, once everyone was settled, a deep and aged voice echoed across the drapes, the candlesticks, the silverware, distinguishing any hushed whisper like a gust of wind to a dwindling flame.

"Welcome, students, to The Finesse School of Young Ladies Academy and The Fine School of Princely-Training Academy..."

Daer Kwen Yttre

Leaving the rugged mountains of my homeland, I spurred my horse into a canter. Possibly the only young royal to arrive on horseback and not in a carriage, I had done my best to appear less like a glorified nomad. My grey horse, Slettre, was bedecked in Miraliweth silver; my packhorse carried chests of the finest wood from Polarcia. Slettre's coat was gleaming—I had myself overseen his grooming. My shield with the Grattsgaesian arms glittered in the morning light.

The well-tended road meandered on for two leagues. I reached the Academy in safety, but little style, and opted to take my horses to stabling myself instead of making a spectacle of myself, wind-worn and dusty. The attendant at the gate pronounced the affricate double-t in my name as a single, lower-class stop t. I glared at him down my nose, my horse stamping as I reigned him in and gave a stiff salutary bow while receiving my relevant paperwork.
"Dear sir, I would be exceedingly grateful if you would recall for the fourth time: my name is pronounced EECH-re, not EET-re," I stated, prolonging the glare. The man touched his cap and I spurred Slettre on into the stable-yard, where a groom took both my horses, and another attendant took care of my chests.

My legs were stiff after the long ride. I took a leisurely walk around the grounds, looking around at the familiar area. Everything was just the same as last year. The foils were all lined up in racks along the wall of the courtyard. Bows and quivers hung from hooks at the shooting range. Spears, lances, war-hammers and other specialities were lined up in a separate area, all gleaming and sharp. In pride of place, a newly acquired catapult, strategically placed to face away from the fort, stood solidly among the targets and dummies of the princes' shooting range. Awakened from my reverie by the bell announcing the Opening Ceremony, I cursed quietly and made my way with hasty steps (running was ungentlemanly) toward the fort, ready to charm the hall with my dashing smiles and unaffected manner. In the twilight, I almost failed to see another princess coming my way. We both stopped dead a few feet away, equally late and guilty. The princess stared at me with some dismay.

I drew myself up and bowed gracefully. I carefully studied her face, and then proclaimed, "Princess Seraphine Brooks, from the kingdom of Polarcia—it is a great honor to meet you at last. Prince Kwen Yttre, at your service."
The princess appeared flattered but also somewhat flustered as she curtsied. Her face was pink when she rose.
"A pleasure indeed, sir, though I am afraid we appear to disadvantage tonight and we cannot stand idle."
She took a hasty step forward, but her shoe caught and she stumbled. I quickly stepped forward to balance her.
"Allow me to accompany you to the Ceremony." I offered my arm, and, still blushing slightly, she took it.
"It is a cool night—are you warm enough?" I asked her. She was wearing a beautiful silk dress in ice-blue, which I incidentally complemented with a turquoise tunic and a mantle in royal blue, trimmed with ermine and embroidered with sliver.
The princess laughed—a light, exuberant sound, not at all the cultured laugh taught in Manners at the Academy. But it was a pleasant, open sound, and I liked it. "I hail from Polarcia, Prince," she said, "not from the desert."
I smiled. "There must be a very different range of pastimes to choose from in that cold empire. Which do you prefer?"
We had reached the doorway, and a herald stopped us, taking our names. We were entering from the main doors; a daunting prospect for some, who mostly flooded in through the side doors, avoiding the pomp of an announced entrance. We swept into the hallway as the herald called our names, mine pronounced correctly for once.
"Oh, there is skiing, sledding, ice boarding and sculpting, but I infinitely prefer archery," she said as we entered.
"Really?" I said with another smile. "Quite an unusual accomplishment. Shall we sit here?"

I chose a seat in the center of the room, right by the staff table. There were quite a few princesses and princes looking up at us by now, some looking jealous or admiring. We were a striking picture in blue. Most would not have dared to sit so near the table of adults, whose eyes were already on us, but I didn't mind the attention.
"Certainly," Princess Seraphine said, throwing a small glance around the room as I pulled out her seat for her.
"You must be a Raven by now, are you not?" I enquired. She was about to answer, when the deep voice of the Academy Head echoed across the hall, and all present fell silent.

The speech was long and contained words of welcome, rules and warnings and several toasts. Dinner was announced, and thereafter, free time, which was to be spent quietly.
We enjoyed smalltalk over dinner before adjourning for the night. My room overlooked the archery range, I saw. I suspected that she might visit it again to practise, and resolved to keep an eye on the window.

Zander

The formal clothes made me feel like an imposter. Like a beggar in a king's costume. They where itchy and I wasn't used to having so much skin covered up. Looking around I saw so many beautiful princesses and equally handsome princes, making me feel self-conscious. It was my first year at P.T.A and I was a Raven.

The Academy Head stood up from the staff table at the end and addressed us. Long winded and not to my favor at all his speech was and I closed my eyes halfway through.

Finally the speech was over and we where all asked to follow their porters to our rooms. Looking past the high ceiling and golden banners of the tables I spotted an archery range out the window. My body charged with electricity I got up and hurried out the doors, hoping no one would see me slip out into the night.

I rounded the corner and smacked into something or someone. Dazed, I looked down and noticed I had knocked into one of the girls.

Reaching out a hand I muttered "I apologize sorry." When she had stood up I got to see her properly. She was beautiful, with long red and orange hair that sparkled in the sun and she was wearing a magnificent green satin dress with tiny gold leaves around the waist. Her eyes were kind but intelligent, with a slight frown mark between them. I thought back to what little my father had taught me about manners.

Bowing, I said;

"I apologize fair lady, My name is Zander Marien Dayleford, Prince Of Lake Mead, and I am at your service. " I said. I looked up and she smiled, lighting up her face.

Sajan Meilyr | Cardinal

The alarm clock of his roommate startled Sajan out of his beatific dreams of twirling Vorestinian women; their golden skin tied with pigmented cloth and twisting acrylic paint adorning their bodies still clouded his vision as he jolted forward in his too soft bed. As his vision returned, he cursed his roommate in all of the languages that he could sprout from his tongue, but the ignorant boy only understood part of it, and the rest from Sage's tone. Sajan's hair, flung in his eyes, remained there until the scorching water of the showers struck his skin.

It was a public shower - not that it wasn't any different at home, but the some of the other boys looked downright disturbed, and watched the larger boys with a look that was somehow disgusted, awed and wary all at once. Sajan, looking two years younger than he was, despite his finally developing frame, slipped around them without much thought. Condensation and steam clung to the large tiled room, suffocating everything in its pleasant presence.

Sage walked out into the hallway, a towel wrapped around his narrow waist. He plucked out his mundane clothes, avoiding contact with the culturally diffused clash of clothing, and continued to scrub his teeth with paste and pop a mint leaf in his mouth. When he walked back out, he ambled outside, exploring the grounds before class officially started.

The castle was like an infinite creature; rock worn by working hands and then the elements, structure supporting this giant on stout legs, stubby horns jutting out at moderately even intervals. It would be one of the places that, as a youngster, he would have run through at the turn of an eye, jumping, squealing, climbing, hiding from imaginary foes. He still would, if he had the chance. But he was a Meilyr.

On a sudden impulse, he quickly slipped towards the towering hedge that separated him from YLA, pausing before pushing through the spiky pines. He made it a point, though he didn't know why, to subtly defy any rules thrusted upon him, even if the rule was within reason. Sajan mainly kept his little rebellion to himself, and thought it repetitive to boast.

It was thick. He attempted to use his hands to part the thicket before him, but scratches still stung his cheeks. When he finally made it to the other side, it was sudden, enough to startle him into imbalance. He stumbled forward but quickly gained his feet again, glancing to the side and dusting off loose leaves.

It hit him like a wild boar, barreling into him and pulling him to the ground, coming from where his head had been turned away. Sage immediately began to swear, trying to push whatever contraption of a creature had flown onto him, failing and instead getting a fistful of feminine fabric. Once he realized that this was someone of the opposite sex, a light blossom of embarrassment that deepened to a moderate blush with his remaining indignation kissed his ears, and he struggled to stand.