. I especially like the characterisation - all the characters feel distinct.
He was the first spiritual entity the humans had ever encountered and this stunned them with both horror and wonder.
had painstakingly been sited in a way that a crowd could surround it and catch sight of all the action.
The master swept his hands to present each stall.
He had slicked back his greying hair and parted it along one side in a style that was out of fashion—the male apprentices had spent the morning smoothing their hair to perfect their appearance.
Mr Tull
From her position she could make out the difference between humans and mages—the aforesaid were in uniform of dark grey and sapphire with brooches made of two gem-drops in peridot and emerald, while humans were in ordinary clothing.
Like all mages, Monessa kept her True Name hidden. To mages a Name was sacred and never revealed to humans or mages alike—once a Name was exposed enemies had an advantage to destroy the unfortunate mage. Oracles, celestial beings, decided the fate and Name of their charges and advised the mage Council to keep peace with humans.This just comes totally out of the blue—no transition into why we’re suddenly talking about Names and Oracles. Some set-up would be nice, and if you could do a tad more showing than telling that would also be appreciated.
an earlier age of ten
Thinking about this she glowered. She hated the idea of leaving Weir House, if Mr Tull was not to be her official master, she wasn’t going to be very pleased.
However, there was a haunting atmosphere to their pieces because of Cecilia, the lead singer, as her voice was mesmerising and entranced those who heard her hypnotic chanting.
She frowned, her brow creased with deep lines and her right eye closed.
She zoomed out as the last instruments, a violin and an oboe, added to the song
the children focused on the music than anything else.
The whole of the Continent had been blessed to hear such incredible pieces from a very small group and human critics favoured The Pans so much that they had an impeccable reputation with humans and mages.
She firmly hung on the idea of old enchantment, learned from the Ancient World or possibly their Abilities were musically combined and found it surprising that it had no affect on her.
workout
When the woman had left her alone, she was quick to dispose of it in the lake. It still lay at the bottom, unwanted.
Do you mean that they copied him despite the style being out of fashion or that they followed the current fashions?
Missing a period after "Mr" I think
Myth wrote:She was perched in her favourite oak tree that grew twisted into an obscure shape, with a telescope in hand.
From her position Monessa could make out the difference between humans and mages—the aforesaid were in uniforms of dark grey and sapphire, each had a brooch of two gem-drops in peridot and emerald, colours associated with mages. The wealthy humans wore clothes in flamboyant shades while the lower class made do with their Sunday best.
Thinking about the distinction, Monessa branded her Name on her tongue. She didn’t dare say it out loud in fear of someone overhearing it. Like all mages, Monessa kept her True Name hidden. Names were sacred to mages, like religion was to the humans. It was a closely guarded secret and would never be revealed to humans or mages alike—once a Name was exposed, enemies had an advantage to destroy the unfortunate mage.
Cecilia had no need of a microphone to project her voice. She was slender with golden brown hair, falling to her hips, braided in yellow ribbons. Her long dress was cream and black with sleeves tight at the arm and wide at the wrists. The mage brooch was pinned to her chest.
She had never liked The Pans, except for the violinist, Marcus, who was quite good-looking and didn’t fuss over her.
she didn’t care for appearance and usually could tell a person’s personality by the way they interacted with her
Miss Prudent sat at her table reading handwritten letters. Occasionally she would lift her head to see her student engaged in writing a poem, adding colourful borders and eloquently applying flourishes of silver ink.
Monessa left the wet paper and read through the poem. She had chosen William Blake’s “The Sick Rose” and spaced it evenly down the page. Nodding in satisfaction, she got up set herself before Miss Prudent.
On the night of the fête, Mr Tull had come up to her attic and provided her with exciting news.
The crow feather allowed her to write finely.
“No!” he wrapped her up in his arms and sat a cushion of air.
Mr Tull will take care of you. I’ll always be here to protect you, no matter how much of my magic I use.
His words puzzled her. She wasn’t aware of what could possibly hurt her and thought through what he had said. Monessa locked them into her mind, hoping one day she would know exactly what he was talking about.
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