Young Writers Society

Chapter One


Shadow Tattybogle was quite certain of two things. Firstly, Mistress had chosen a hopelessly uncoordinated dance partner. Second, the man in the corner was going to kill someone.

The violins sang sweet and wide, their sound waving through the ballroom and curling around the dancing couples. Shadow yawned and leaned back against the leg of Mistress’ empty chair. She half-closed her eyes and squinted up at the chandelier on the ceiling. The light blurred and doubled, shining in long thin rays that moved whenever the hybrid tilted her head. Spots of light caught on the jewels of the women as they circled their partners, long skirts and frothy petticoats spreading out like petals of unfurling flowers. The music sent out a long, tight string of final chords; the women curtseyed, the men bowed, and the dance ended.

Mistress came tripping back to her seat, her cheeks flushed. ‘Oh,’ she exclaimed, sinking back into her chair and fanning herself. ‘Oh, that boy was a dreadful dancer.’

‘He was too short for you, Mistress,’ Shadow said. ‘You need someone taller. Like Baron Achan.’

Mistress giggled. ‘He is tall, isn’t he? But then, he’s only a baron. I’d never dance with a baron.’

‘Tall, special and not a baron,’ Shadow said gravely.

Mistress laughed again. She patted Shadow’s head and then raised her hand to smooth her own golden hair, arranged in a mass of curls around her ears and bound up at the back. ‘Where has Margaret got to? I want a drink.’ She scanned the crowded ballroom. ‘Oh, bother that girl. Shadow, you go and get me one.’

‘But of course, Mistress.’ Shadow rose to her feet and wove her way through the ball guests to the table where the punch was being served. Dressed in a long black cape, she was a thin, scarecrow-like creature, about the height of a ten year old human child. Her face was small and round, framed by thin, wispy black hair cut very short and close to her head. When she moved, it was with a slight awkwardness, as though she were a puppet guided by too long strings.

She stopped before the table, stood on her tiptoes and gently tapped her fingernail against a glass. The footman serving there looked down at her. She smiled. ‘Mistress wants a drink.’

The footman glanced over to where Mistress sat and nodded. ‘The punch isn’t warm yet. You’ll have to wait.’ He spoke slowly and clearly, as though to a small child, and Shadow’s smile grew wider, showing tiny pointed white teeth, like a kitten’s.

‘Yes’m,’ she said sweetly. ‘I can wait.’

The footman looked unenthusiastic, but he said nothing and went back to staring at the opposite wall. Shadow could hear the thoughts running through his head: (really don’t like that hybrid small strange looks wrong not right things they say about hybrids). She looked up at him sorrowfully, but he ignored her. She sighed and looked at the brightly-lit ballroom, full of Anglisc barons, countesses and earls. Mingled among the Anglisc were Vitelian men and women, darker and shorter and less at ease. They stood out like dark velvet in a drawer full of bright silks, and many of them were gathered in tight knots, not talking with the rest of the ball guests.

Shadow eyed them condescendingly. She didn’t like the Vitelians, mainly because she couldn’t understand their thoughts. They had only been here for a few weeks, but they had already become a familiar sight around the castle, walking through the corridors in groups of their own, listening to the musicians in the main hall, talking to the other guests in their thick, accented Anglisc.

The musicians had started playing again. The violins wove their many-stringed melodies, dropping them like a net over the room, and a flute threaded a clear string of sound in-between the gaps. People began to pair up and join each other on the dance floor. At the end of the room, Prince Thunor and the Vitelian Princess Iuliana rose from their seats and joined the other dancers. Shadow watched them through narrowed golden eyes.

Iuliana took the prince’s hand and looked up at him, smiling. She was like a small, rather plump bird – a black robin, Shadow thought, or a miniature raven, while the prince was cast in a different mould entirely. Tall, slim and pale, with wavy light-brown hair, he was a complete contrast, yet he looked oddly fitting at Iuliana’s side. ‘Like cheese and fruit cake,’ Shadow murmured to herself. Pleased with her analogy, she repeated it in a louder voice, drawing a few mildly curious looks from people wondering what Duchess Alarise Cranley’s pet hybrid was up to now.

Behind her, the footman lifted the lid off the bowl, stirred the punch and ladled a portion of it into a cup. Wrapping it in a napkin, he said, ‘There you are. Don’t spill any.’

Shadow took the glass. It was warm, even through the napkin, and smelled ripe and fruity. A little curl of steam rose above the clear orange surface, like a wisp of dragon’s breath.

‘Don’t spill it,’ the footman warned.

‘No’m, thank you. Mistress’ kind regards to the punchbowl.’ She began to walk slowly and carefully back to Mistress’ chair. She held the cup in front of her, her eyes fixed upon it, and her tongue touching her top teeth in concentration.

‘Oh, thank you, Shadow,’ Mistress said, reaching out and taking the cup. She sipped it and patted her lips with the napkin. ‘Sit, Shadow. Sit.’

Shadow sat down in her old position beside the chair. Mistress’ skirts were close to her face, rustling slightly, and Shadow could smell Mistress’ perfume trapped in the folds of the fabric. She reached out a finger and poked a crease in the pale blue silk. Then she looked up, her head on one side, looking at the people surrounding the king and queen. She looked thoughtful, and said, ‘That man’s going to kill someone.’

‘What was that, Shadow?’ Mistress looked down absently.

‘That man’s going to kill someone.’

‘Oh.’ Mistress went back to her punch.

Shadow leaned against the chair leg and began to hum quietly, watching Prince Thunor and Iuliana dancing together. The wedding was only a few weeks away, now. It would be, in the words of Shadow’s elders and betters, a turning point in Anglisca’s history, the alliance with Vitelia that would end centuries of conflict. ‘A skipping-stone in our history,’ Shadow murmured to herself. ‘Paving the way for future germinations.’

‘Alarise!’ Jemima came and sat next to Mistress. ‘Why aren’t you dancing?’

‘I’m so hot.’ Mistress flapped her fan. ‘And the last boy I danced with was so awful.’

Jemima laughed. For some minutes they sat quietly, watching the twirling and sliding figures on the dance floor. Shadow’s humming was almost lost in the music coming from the musicians next to them. Then Mistress said, ‘Iuliana’s quite short, isn’t she?’

‘Vitelians are.’

‘Yes, but compared to Thunor. I mean, she’s tiny.’

Jemima frowned slightly. ‘It’s not very polite to say so. Remember that she will be the one becoming queen after aunt dies.’

‘Sour grapes,’ Shadow said dreamily.

Jemima looked down at her rather irritably. Mistress giggled, then gave a tiny squeak. ‘Oh my goodness, Jemima, look! Father’s dancing with Domina Celer!’

‘Don’t point!’

Shadow raised her head and looked. Grand Duke Romil Cranley was indeed holding the hand of a small, thin and very brown Vitelian lady. She had a great amount of dark hair, probably not all her own, piled on top of her head in a mass of curls and twists. Romil, tall and broad and white-haired, with the beginnings of a paunch, danced gravely around her, treading the steps carefully and precisely. His daughters gazed at him in delight.

Shadow watched him for a few seconds, then looked away uneasily. Unnerved by the young women’s laughter, she looked towards the end of the room where the king and queen sat, watching their son and future daughter-in-law dance together. King Amory, broad-shouldered and red-haired and Queen Rahel – just as tall as her husband, with straight light hair and a calm, pale face, watching over proceedings like two grave eagles minding a flock of young fledglings.

Shadow’s gaze lingered on the queen, straining Rahel's thoughts through her mind (dance Iuliana and Thunor dance well together) like milk through muslin (Iuliana Vitelian Vitelian Vitelian Vitelians curse).

Shadow considered the queen’s last thought. Curse was a strong word. Mistress always looked confused when people muttered about the Vitelian curse. Shadow had heard her ask Romil, ‘But papa, isn’t the wedding a good thing? Stopping years of war and everything?’

Romil had crinkled his eyebrows and said, ‘Politics, Alarise. No one ever agrees.’

Now Shadow wondered if Romil thought the same as his sister the queen did. She looked from the queen to Romil and back again. This time the queen felt Shadow’s gaze on her and turned to meet it. She smiled, and Shadow smiled back cheerfully, bobbing her head.

The dance ended. Romil came to sit with his daughters and frown in mock-sternness at their comments and laughter over his dancing partner.

When Shadow next looked for the man who was going to kill someone, his corner was empty, with only an empty glass left to mark the spot.


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Critiscm about everything, but mostly about Shadow. What are your impression of her? Does she seem believable, likeable? If she's random, then that's kind of the point. ^_^

Hey Wooster! Thanks for asking for a review.
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Dressed in a long fringed black cape, she was a thin, scarecrow-like creature, about the height of a ten year old human child. Her face was small and round and pointed, framed by thin, wispy black hair cut very short and close to her head. When she moved, it was with a slight awkwardness, as though she were a puppet guided by too long strings.

I'm thinking you should expand some of the descriptions, because there's a lot of descriptive words that cluster together here, and clustering a lot in a paragraph isn't always a good thing. For instance, "Dressed in a long fringed black cape" -- instead of putting three descriptive words in front of cape, creating a wordy little string as it is, you can rearrange the sentence, perhaps having to make that first sentence into two. Perhaps something like, "Dressed in a long black cape, fringed at all the edges, she was a thin, scarecrow-like creature" and have the next sentence mention the ten-year-old child bit. That's just an example though, as the writer, group words however you please.

The footman looked as though he didn’t like that idea very much, but he said nothing and went back to staring at the opposite wall. Shadow could hear the thoughts running through his head: (really don’t like that hybrid small strange looks wrong not right things they say about hybrids).

The thoughts could be italicized, to set them apart from the rest of the paragraph, though the readers can figure it out the way you have it.

They stood out like dark velvet in a drawer full of bright silks, and many of them were gathered in tight knots, not talking with the rest of the ball guests.

I like this bit! The imagery of people standing in tight knots is quite accurate, and I can just see it.

Then she looked up, her head on one side. She looked thoughtful, and said, ‘That man’s going to kill someone.’

‘What was that, Shadow?’ Mistress looked down absently.

‘That man’s going to kill someone.’

Since you haven't mentioned this man since the beginning, could there be a reference to his direction in relation to them? She's referring to someone, and since some times has passed, a mentioning of where exactly this foreboding man in the room is seems necessary. She can glance at him with her eyes, maybe, or any gesture really to point him out to some degree.

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Shadow comes across as very frank. Her observations and comments seem to carry sarcasm with them, coming from her position amongst all these people -- not exactly bitter, but more like she's deeply amused by these people she is at the mercy of. Though, with that, she still seems a bit sad -- this is all displayed by her character, or this is how I'm reading it anyway. And the germinations comment makes her seem like she looks down on those who look down on her -- that was really clever too, by the way! =)

She seems a lot like your Raven character (with the wit and randomness), though more reserved. Her relationship with Mistress seems realistic -- though I can't really tell the age of the mistress, as she comes across as very immature with her giggling and silly comments, and I can't really tell the age of Shadow either, who also comes across as childish due to her random nature and dreaminess. I know age isn't all the important, though I'm curious in this case, because Shadow is a creature we are no familiar with and there's always the chance that she's a lot more ancient than the people she associates herself with (or is forced to associate with). Though I'm sure the mentioning of any age realm can be put off for a later time in the story -- just mentioning, really, that both the Mistress and Shadow seem young and a bit immature, though Shadow at this point certainly seems smarter.

I hope this was helpful. PM me if you have any questions, and when you post the next part!

~ Clo

Ooh, Twitty. I'm enjoying this. In advance: Chuck a PM my way when/if you post the next chapter. ^_^

Shadow Tattybogle was quite certain of two things. Firstly, Mistress had chosen a hopelessly uncoordinated dance partner. Second, the man in the corner was going to kill someone.

I kind of like how you mention that this guy is going to kill somebody, then you're panning out and getting a good look around at everything else, only mentioning him again at the end. It stretches a ribbon of tension between the beginning and the ending, and is sustained by Shadow's snatches of mind-reading.

Mistress came tripping back to her seat, her cheeks flushed with exercise. ‘Oh,’ she exclaimed, sinking back into her chair and fanning herself. ‘Oh, that boy was a dreadful dancer.’

I'm rather unsure about the use of "exercise"; I think you could find a better word or just leave it at "her cheeks flushed."

Dressed in a long fringed black cape, she was a thin, scarecrow-like creature, about the height of a ten year old human child. Her face was small and round and pointed, framed by thin, wispy black hair cut very short and close to her head. When she moved, it was with a slight awkwardness, as though she were a puppet guided by too long strings.

I get the mental image you're after, but I think it could do with one more morsel of detail, which would be what kind of condition the cape is in. Shabby, threadbare, clean, shiny (probably not), dirty, wrinkled, anything. That can tell a lot about Mistress.

Isn't the opposite of round, pointed? It's a little confusing. I had to stop and think about that for a second while reading.

You bring out an emphasis to hair color a little bit later, saying how the "natives" (I don't think I can find a name, Ang-something...) are tall, pale and thin. Shadow is short, probably pale and thin, but has black hair. I'm wondering if you're planning on elaborating on that later?

I do like the puppet line. Very nice.

She stopped before the table and gently tapped her fingernail against a glass. The footman serving there looked down at her. She smiled. ‘Mistress wants a drink.’

I'm not quite sure on how to interpret the first line. If she's the size of a ten-year-old, does she have to reach up any? Strain a little to get her hand that far across the table?

Shadow watched them through narrowed golden eyes.

This line changes my image of Shadow a lot. Black hair and golden eyes... I can't imagine a skin color (other than quite dark) that would look natural with that combination. However, this may be a point on Shadow's origin. The word "hybrid" is mentioned twice, maybe three times. Shadow is not a natural creature.

‘That man’s going to kill someone.’


‘Oh.’ Mistress went back to her punch.

In certain parts (nearer to the beginning), Mistress shows a hint of affection or even respect for Shadow, but this is a little bit weird when we look at both impressions.
This kind of reaction suggests one of two things: One, Shadow has a tendency to lie or at least stretch the truth, or two, Mistress is maybe a little more than tipsy. I'm inclined to believe theory one, but I don't know too much about the characters yet.

About the names: You've got a kind of off-kilter old English names thing going on, what with Jemima and Alarise, but make sure you don't stray too far. I like the Vitelian names best, although with Domina Celer, I throw a 'y' on the end whenever I read it. Celery.

Although all the characters in this chapter are very interesting, Shadow is fascinating. I can't wait to read more about her.
She's mutedly sweet, with only a little sharp and a lot of bitter thrown in. No motive is apparent at this time, but there's the "hybrid" thing again, which is rather spooky sounding. You get some good descriptions in on her (the scarecrow, the puppet, the sitting at her Mistress' feet and creasing her dress), and the impression is very, very sad. She suffers in some way, but it's hard to know if she knows it or unconsciously knows it.

I think the only thing you can do is post more and harrass people for reviews. I'm thoroughly intrigued, Twitty. Good job. ^_^

Like I said, PM me when you update or edit!

~Sumi

I've been feeling listless lately. Think of this as a re-introduction thread. To recap: me = mod on TW, writes some fantasy, regenerates like starfish, never got out of the introduction forum. I'm thinking that at my rate, I will be a full member on YWS after five years.

[spoiler]
Chapter One
Shadow Tattybogle Purple! Well, for names, the juxtaposition between that ever-hated name, Shadow (I also hate this forum member named Shadow on YWO) and the random 'what ... ' Tattybogle? Totally escaped my attention. My attention went to the second part of the sentence (basically what comes after this comment) which is just fine. It's ... a normalish beginning, but not normal enough to be cliche. So you don't stand out in a good way or a bad way. I will comment again on the name when it comes up again, because that was when I noticed that the character had a name. was quite certain of two things. Firstly, Mistress had chosen a hopelessly uncoordinated dance partner. Second, the man in the corner was going to kill someone. Eh. Your first thing is very interesting, and your second thing is not interesting at all. This makes little sense to me, because I hate dancing and I love killing. But there it is. It's probably because your beginning went from okay normal -> help! cliche! Sooo ... recommendations. Either you find a totally new first paragraph, or you reword "man in the corner was going to kill someone" to make something as fascinating as the first thing. I'm thinking that the more specific and queer, the better.
The violins sang sweet and wide can't see point of this adjective, their sound waving through the ballroom and curling around the dancing couples. Shadow NOW. Now this name instantly bothers me. I am so [xxx] tired of names that are just random images that are "cool". Shadows are "cool". No, really, it reminds me of some stupid anime show that I've never seen because I don't watch anime. And that's bad. It was fine when you had the full name, because you had juxtaposition there, but now I see that full name as an excuse to have you write the word "Shadow" every other sentence and be like -- isn't Shadow awesome? She's just like a shadow! She's ... yawned and leaned back against the leg of Mistress’ empty chair. bored with the world! Like she doesn't even bother to be arrogant! She half-closed her eyes and squinted up at the chandelier on the ceiling. The light blurred and doubled, shining in long thin rays that moved whenever the hybrid and she's a hybrid, which basically means she has the best of both (or all) worlds! tilted her head. Spots of light caught on the jewels of the women as they circled their partners, long skirts and frothy petticoats spreading out like petals of unfurling flowers. The music sent out a long, tight again I don't see your purpose string of final chords; the women curtseyed, the men bowed, and the dance ended. Anyway, short summary of this rant: I hate your character's name.
I suppose that's a small thing, in the grand scheme of things when I should be thinking about plot, character development, whatme. Anyway, now I shall talk about the things I couldn't talk about before because they would disrupt my rant. But first, a commercial break.
You know, due to the relations between TW and YWS, and some odd PMs I received when I joined, (Okay, just one.) I feel some insanely high pressure to get it right the first time, and prove that I do belong here. Oh gods, it is much easier to join this place to get banned. Actually, considering that I’ve never done it, it’s harder …
/commercial (more like an infomercial) except it wasn't even mercial.
hybrid: basically hybrid characters also bother me, but I'm going to just tell you that and reserve true judgment for:
Secondly, and this is me being really nitpicky – I don’t find dancing particularly interesting, and there was nothing in any of the above that really made me believe otherwise. I had been hoping for at least some description of dreadful dancing (you could juxtapose that with your unfurling flowers or something) but my hopes were dashed.
Mistress came tripping this is the second time I’ve recently seen “tripping” used weirdly. Is it some new fad, or did I not pay attention until now? back to her seat, her cheeks flushed with exercise. ‘Oh,’ she exclaimed, sinking back into her chair and fanning herself. ‘Oh, that boy was a dreadful dancer.’
‘He was too short for you, Mistress,’ Shadow said. ‘You need someone taller. Like Baron Achan.’
Mistress giggled. ‘He is tall, isn’t he? But then, he’s only a baron. I’d never dance with a baron.’
‘Tall, special and not a baron,’ Shadow said gravely adverb bothers me.
Mistress laughed again. She patted Shadow’s head and then raised her hand to smooth her own golden hair, arranged in a mass of curls around her ears and bound up at the back. ‘Where has Margaret got to? I want a drink.’ She scanned the crowded ballroom. ‘Oh, bother that girl. Shadow, you go and get me one.’
‘But of course, Mistress.’ I feel like there ought to be some reflection here, about how she feels about getting drinks. Is she bothered by triviality? Going to use the opportunity to stalk that guy mentioned in the first paragraph? Past time for some thought again, instead of action and dialogue. Shadow rose to her feet and wove her way through the ball guests to the table where the punch was being served. Dressed in a long fringed black cape, she was a thin, scarecrow-like creature, about the height of a ten year old <-hyphens in there somewhere human child. Her face was small and round and pointed, framed by thin, wispy black hair cut very short and close to her head. This sort of list description (all piled into one paragraph) is not generally something I accept, unless it’s artfully done. –points at following sentence- That’s artful. The stuff before this – not so much. Seems like you had a list of what she looked like, and then you went down the list and struck out each item as you went. But the artfulness isn’t what really bothered me. It was the abruptness. Shadow’s weaving through the guests. What about this action demonstrates that it’s time for me to know how tall she is or how long her hair is? Nothing! You could, perhaps mention her height here by saying that it’s difficult for her to see exactly where she’s going, if she’s surrounded by tall barons. Long story short: work on incorporating physical description into the subject matter of the story. I would much rather seen this information dribbled out over the course of several paragraphs. Or pages. When she moved, it was with a slight awkwardness, as though she were a puppet guided by too long strings. awk. you could just rephrase, but why not tell us how long the strings are (or some similar interesting detail) while you’re at it?
She stopped before the table and gently adverb bother me again tapped her fingernail against a glass. Really? How loud can this get? I was imagining that the party was orderly, maybe, but still too loud for this kind of attention-getting. I’m also confused as to why she wouldn’t be worried that the glass would fall and shatter — but hey, it’s probably because she’s part dragon! Or some other, you know, advantageous hybrid. The footman serving there looked down at her dull phrasing (: I can’t even decide if you were trying to paint him negatively. She smiled. ‘Mistress wants a drink.’
The footman glanced over to where Mistress sat and nodded. ‘The punch isn’t warm yet. You’ll have to wait.’ He spoke slowly and clearly, as though to a small child, and Shadow’s smile grew wider, showing tiny pointed white teeth, like a kitten’s. Or a dragon’s! Or a wolf’s! Or a vampire’s! Or a … I’ll stop.
‘Yes’m,’ Yes, ma’am? Is this a tasteless insult? she said sweetly. ‘I can wait.’
The footman looked as though he didn’t like that idea very much, I find it odd that he doesn’t notice the insult … and it’s unclear here whether he’s revised his earlier impression of her (stupid kid) to something along the lines of (ah, it’s a kitten/dragon/wolf/vampire/something!) It’s clarified below, but, er … I’ll go complain below instead. but he said nothing and went back to staring at the opposite wall. I wish you had given some earlier indication that Ms. Footman is apathetic to the world, waiting for the invention of television so he will have something else to stare at. Shadow could hear the thoughts running through his head: surely you have some better, more shocking way to introduce to us poor readers that Shadow can read our minds, what you have here couldn’t be more bland (really don’t like that hybrid small strange looks wrong not right lack of commas here is an interesting choice, but it (quite coincidentally) makes the writing harder to understand, so: if you meant that a hybrid looks wrong (and does not look right), you’re being needlessly redundant things they say about hybrids). She looked up at him sorrowfully again not liking adverb, but he ignored her. She sighed and looked out kinda connotes she’s looking out from something, or out through something at the ballroom, full of Anglisc barons, countesses and earls. Mingled among the Anglisc were Vitelian men and women, darker and shorter and less at ease. They stood out like dark velvet in a drawer full of bright silks, and many of them were gathered in tight knots, not talking with the rest of the ball guests. Redundant again, but perhaps not as obvious
Shadow eyed them condescendingly another adverb. She didn’t like the Vitelians much, mainly because she couldn’t understand their thoughts. Clarify here, before I start thinking about Twilight. Is it simply a difference in language? Surely if you can read thoughts you can also get some sense of intentions? Or are their minds completely alien? I also wish that this sentence about condescension had come earlier, because the explanation and description of the Anglisc v. Vitelian men (or something like that) was like your Shadow description; i.e., it came out of nowhere. Why didn’t it make it into the earlier descriptions of dancing, for instance? They had only been here for a few weeks, but they had already become a familiar sight around the castle, walking through the corridors in groups of their own, listening to the musicians in the main hall, talking to the other guests in their thick, accented Anglisc. So they is newcomer-ness. But why does she look down on people she can’t understand? Please tell me Shadow is beyond basic racism.
Or actually, don’t. Racist characters are also interesting.
The musicians had started playing again. The violins wove their many-stringed melodies, dropping them like a net over the room, and a flute threaded a clear string of sound in-between the gaps. I want to see here that it astounds me that your description of music is so much more interesting than your description of … everything else? Perhaps you can learn from yourself. People began to pair up and join each other on the dance floor. At the end of the room, Prince Thunor and the Vitelian Princess Iuliana rose from their seats in front of the conservatory doors and joined the other dancers. Last time I’m going to comment on boring description, unless it gets out of hand, really. Shadow watched them through narrowed golden eyes.
Iuliana took the prince’s hand and looked up at him, smiling. She was like a small, rather plump bird – a black robin, Shadow thought, or a miniature raven I like the similes here, especially considering your earlier descriptions of Shadow as a feral and catlike – this is an interesting example of where you’ve made description interesting by filtering it through the eyes of the character. So I’m only commenting to tell you that “black robin” and “miniature raven” have extremely different connotations in my mind. Black robin makes me think “plump, delicious” and miniature raven makes me think “skinny, astute” , while the prince was cast in a different mould entirely. Tall, slim and pale, with wavy light-brown hair, he was a complete contrast, yet he looked oddly fitting at Iuliana’s side. You follow it up with another odd simile, but I wish you could expand outside of dialogue on what you meant here. ‘Like cheese and fruit cake,’ Shadow murmured to herself. Pleased with her analogy, she repeated it in a louder voice, drawing a few mildly curious looks from people wondering what Duchess Alarise Cranley’s pet hybrid was up to now. By the by — I’m liking the rest of the names that have been popping up, which means that I only hate Shadow’s name more.
Behind her, the footman lifted the lid off the bowl, stirred the punch oh, I meant to ask: how were they heating the punch? and ladled a portion of it into a cup. He wrapped a napkin around it a bit misleading, since the last use of “it” referred to punch, not cup and said, ‘There you are. Don’t spill any.’ I’m wishing that there was some outer indication of his thoughts here – or perhaps a comment that he keeps his thoughts well separate from his face.
Shadow took the glass. It was warm, even through the napkin, and smelled ripe and fruity. A little curl of steam rose above the clear orange surface, like a wisp of dragon’s breath. Makes me hungry …
‘Don’t spill it,’ the footman warned redundant. Ironically, the character is being redundant in that he’s repeating something he’s already said. But I’m going to assume you did that on purpose and then didn’t see fit to explain why to the reader. It’s probably one of those things where we’re supposed to be so smart we understand automatically.
I not smart. X.x
‘No’m, thank you. Mistress’ kind regards to the punchbowl.’ Made me laugh. She began to walk slowly and carefully the double adverbs! Actually, these didn’t bother me as much as the other ones (warrants saying) but you will strengthen your writing if you cut those out and replace them with something more illustrative of her carefulness. back to Mistress’ chair. She held the cup in front of her, her eyes fixed upon it, and cut her tongue touching her top teeth in concentration.
‘Oh, thank you, Shadow,’ Mistress said, reaching out and taking the cup. She sipped it and patted her lips with the napkin. ‘Sit, Shadow. Sit.’ Shadow is a dog now, yes?
Shadow sat down in her old position beside the chair. Mistress’ skirts were close to her face, rustling slightly, and Shadow she? I’m starting to get an odd feeling that Shadow thinks of herself in third-person. Were you going for that effect? could smell Mistress’ perfume trapped in the folds of the fabric. She reached out a finger and poked a crease in the pale blue silk. Did the crease go away? Then she looked up, her head on one side. She looked thoughtful, and said, ‘That man’s going to kill someone.’
‘What was that, Shadow?’ Mistress looked down absently.
‘That man’s going to kill someone.’
‘Oh.’ Mistress went back to her punch. Verrry interesting exchange. It was kind of killed by the contradiction in the first paragraph, because you made me assume that it was important, and now I feel a tiny bit betrayed that you misled me and now you’re laughing about it.
You’re probably not laughing, but you know what? I still feel betrayed! My feelings are hurt! And this is the Internet! So my feelings really matter to you!
Shadow leaned against the chair leg and began to hum quietly, watching Prince Thunor and Iuliana dancing together. The wedding was only a few weeks away, now. It would be, in the words of Shadow’s elders and betters, a turning point in Anglisca’s history, the alliance with Vitelia that would end centuries of conflict. ‘A skipping-stone in our history,’ Shadow murmured to herself. ‘Paving the way for future germinations.’ Oookay. Talking aloud to no one in particular = new annoying trait. Woe now to the girl who sits next to me in computer science, who possesses that trait.
‘Alarise!’ Jemima came and sat next to Mistress. ‘Why aren’t you dancing?’ Damn. I just noticed why I like the name Alarise. Because … because I have a character named Alaris. Actually, I have two characters named Alaris, because one of them is named after the other. –pounds head on table- You stolez my name and added an ‘e’ to it! AAAAAAAAH –drowns-
‘I’m so hot.’ [FONT=Wingdings][FONT=Wingdings]ßProbably not a legitimate comment, but: after I drowned, I was reborn a new, so when I read this sentence, I was reading without context. xP Mistress flapped her fan. ‘And the last boy wondering whether it’s purposeful that you’ve stated she doesn’t dance with anyone lower than a baron, yet she calls her partners “boys” … so what station are they, really? I danced with was so awful.’
Jemima laughed. For some minutes they sat quietly, watching the twirling and sliding figures on the dance floor. Shadow’s humming was almost lost in the music coming from the musicians next to them. Then Mistress said, ‘Iuliana’s quite short, isn’t she?’
‘Vitelians are.’
‘Yes, but compared to Thunor. I mean, she’s tiny.’
Jemima frowned slightly. ‘It’s not very polite to say so. Remember that she will be the one becoming queen after aunt dies.’
‘Sour grapes,’ Shadow said dreamily. Talking aloud to no one in particular = new awesome trait
Jemima looked down at her rather irritably. Mistress giggled, then gave a tiny squeak. ‘Oh my goodness, Jemima, look! Father’s dancing with Domina Celer!’
‘Don’t point!’ Geez, how old are these people? First I thought Mistress was forty, now I think she’s fourteen. If you have to devote paragraphs to physical descriptions of someone, devote them to Mistress.
Shadow raised her head and looked. Grand Duke Romil Cranley was indeed holding the hand of a small, thin and very brown Vitelian lady. She had a great amount of dark hair, probably not all her own, piled on top of her head in a mass of curls and twists. Romil, tall and broad and white-haired, with the beginnings of a paunch, danced gravely around her, treading the steps carefully and precisely. His daughters gazed at him in delight.
Shadow watched him for a few seconds, then looked away uneasily mawr. Unnerved by the young women’s laughter, she looked towards the end of the room where the king and queen sat, I fail spectacularly at understanding why Shadow would look at the king and queen because she is unnerved by the laughter watching their son and future daughter-in-law dance together. King Amory, broad-shouldered and red-haired and Queen Rahel – just as tall as her husband, with straight light hair and a calm, pale face, watching over proceedings like two grave eagles minding a flock of young fledglings. No wai! They should dance too! Or they could … eat. Or do politics. I fancy the politics idea, meself. If you’re a royal someone, ya gotta be politic. Or be dead. Be politic or be dead = new motto.
Shadow’s gaze lingered on the queen, straining her thoughts kinda unclear, for a moment I thought she was straining her own thoughts through her mind (dance Iuliana and Thunor dance well together) like milk through muslin (Iuliana Vitelian Vitelian Vitelian oh Vitelian Vitelians and their curse). This stretches the bounds of believability here.
Shadow considered the queen’s last thought. Curse was a strong word. Erm … in your universe, perhaps. I shall bow to your rules, mostly because naming strong words in this thread would force you to change the rating. Mistress always looked confused when people muttered about the Vitelian curse. Shadow had heard her ask Romil, ‘But papa, isn’t the wedding a good thing? Stopping years of war and everything?’
Romil had crinkled his eyebrows and said, ‘Politics, Alarise. No one ever agrees.’
Now Shadow wondered if Romil thought the same as his sister the queen did. She looked from the queen to Romil and back again. This time the queen felt Shadow’s gaze on her and turned to meet it. She smiled, and Shadow smiled back cheerfully, bobbing her head.
The dance ended. Romil came to sit with his daughters and frown in mock-sternness at their comments and laughter over his dancing partner.
When Shadow next looked for the man who was going to kill someone, his corner was empty, with only an empty glass left to mark the spot. Killer ending. Killer = good.
Uh, I hope he doesn’t assassinate that dancing couple. Or the king and queen. –reads subtitle- Waaait.
Dammit.
Soo — Shadow knew because she was reading his thoughts, yes?
[/spoiler]
Eh, you want me to talk about Shadow: I’ve already named the reasons I don’t like her: basically, her name, and her hybridness. Those two added together give me an impression (perhaps false) that she is nothing new. But the talking aloud is a new thing, I suppose … I would only keep it up if what she says aloud is always witty, without exception. The one part where I didn’t like the talking aloud — well, that wasn’t too witty. (: You can also be not-witty when being not-witty makes you witty, but perhaps that's something to cover for some other time.

Shadow’s language was also pretty juvenile, but I’m coming to accept that as part of her voice, although it wasn’t until the end that I realized she was more of a child-idiot than a silken assassin. xP Yeah, I’m pretty bad at summarizing stuff.

I suppose I should talk about adverbs now. Adverbs are a funny thing. Very recently (recently = three months ago), I was reading Kushiel’s Chosen by Jacqueline Carey, which is absolutely riveting, but I don’t know if I dare recommend it on this site. Anyway, somewhere in the middle of the book I took a step back and started scanning it as though I was attempting to crit it. Suddenly all the adverbs jumped out of the page, and my eyes turned sore and my brain drowned. So as you revise, keep in mind that I (probably like most people) have two audience modes, and that’s really fascinating, and we should all do research projects on it. If there are any adverbs I missed, then those really deserve to be in there, because I missed them. I don’t go looking for adverbs; I just try to point them out. Unfortunately, pointing out adverbs gets easier and easier, the more you point them out.

Also, I did the crit in MSWord, tested it in TW to get the coding, and then searched+deleted all the extraneous tags, and now my head hurts. So there are a few places in there where things may not be clear because I planned to revise them, but now I don't want to do it because I don't have my color-coded stuff. And I'm lazy.

So if you have any questions, you can post here or PM me. I'll probably be here another week before I come to my senses and realize that I'm supposed to be writing 55,000 words this month, not rejoining enemy websites.

In conclusion:

I enjoyed critting this piece, and I hope to return to YWS to do something else within six months. I also hope I didn’t break any rules … or say anything obvious. But I obviously have said something obvious, so I guess I fail.

Me = Fail

Happy holidays!

this is a really well written story and since I'm still new at this I won't criticize your work because I will most like come off as someone who doesn't know anything about writing. I really like Shadow, too me she seems like she'd have dark humor and tho she may be random she's always calculating her surroundings and everyone in them. Very good!

Hey! Here would be your review, as requested. Everyone has pointed out the major things, so I'm afraid my review won't be as detailed, but I'll try to give you my input with shadow.

TL G-Wooster wrote:Shadow Tattybogle was quite certain of two things.

First off, her name is odd, which I guess is something you were going for. Her first name is mysterious, yet her last name doesn't give off the mysterious vibe. It gives off a random,childish, out there and odd vibe. I think it bothers me because they're so different.

Mistress laughed again. She patted Shadow’s head and then raised her hand to smooth her own golden hair, arranged in a mass of curls around her ears and bound up at the back. ‘Where has Margaret got to? I want a drink.’ She scanned the crowded ballroom. ‘Oh, bother that girl. Shadow, you go and get me one.’

So, how does Shadow feel about being bossed around? Is she used to it? Is she sort of like a servant, and is she annoyed that Margaret isn't there? She doesn't seem to have many emotions, especially in the third paragraph down. l
ll
V

The footman looked unenthusiastic, but he said nothing and went back to staring at the opposite wall. Shadow could hear the thoughts running through his head: (really don’t like that hybrid small strange looks wrong not right things they say about hybrids)

She doesn't really seem to react to this either. I think some people might be offended, but she doesn't react at all. Is she thought of this way often? I'm getting the image of a stone statue in a play, someone who doesn't react much...because she's not.
I like some of your description:

. When she moved, it was with a slight awkwardness, as though she were a puppet guided by too long strings.
and
He spoke slowly and clearly, as though to a small child, and Shadow’s smile grew wider, showing tiny pointed white teeth, like a kitten’s.
and here:
They stood out like dark velvet in a drawer full of bright silks, and many of them were gathered in tight knots, not talking with the rest of the ball guests.

One more thing related to these, does Shadow enjoy messing with people? When the man speaks to her like she's little she smiles and shows her teeth (which I like your description of). Her pointed teeth.

Shadow eyed them condescendingly. She didn’t like the Vitelians, mainly because she couldn’t understand their thoughts.

Shadow watched them through narrowed golden eyes.

Oh no! It's becoming more Twilight-ish! Golden eyes, pointed teeth? Unable to read someone's thoughts? Aaahhh! Run away! It's ideas made unoriginal by Twilight!!!!

She looked thoughtful, and said, ‘That man’s going to kill someone.’

‘What was that, Shadow?’ Mistress looked down absently.

‘That man’s going to kill someone.’

‘Oh.’ Mistress went back to her punch.

Um..that was...reactionless. If someone told someone else that there was a man in the same room you were that was going to kill someone, wouldn't at least one of them be curious? Mistress seems like she doesn't want to believe Shadow, or she doesn't believe because Shadow's lied to her. Unless one of the two is true, the reaction isn't really believable.

Jemima frowned slightly. ‘It’s not very polite to say so. Remember that she will be the one becoming queen after aunt dies.’

‘Sour grapes,’ Shadow said dreamily.

Wait..WHAA? From who's going to be queen to sour grapes? I know you meant her to be random, and maybe I'm being an over nit-pick, but there doesn't even seem to be a trace of how the two are related.

I'm intrigued to see what everything about. There were traces of Twilight in there, which personally bothered me, because now the ideas are overused. However, I liked many of the remarks she made, they were funny. I think my favorite was 'for future germinations.' I forgot who, but whoever said 'she looks down on those who look down on her' makes sense and I like that about her. Its hard to put an age on her and many of the other characters (mainly Mistress). There were a few places where I was thinking 'Wow. No reaction.' I think that was my major pet peeve on this piece. Overall, it was good and I'm curious to see what happens with the man who was in the corner. I want to know who he kills. But one question (something I just thought of). If Shadow knew that he was going to kill someone because she read his thoughts, then why didn't she read more of his thoughts and figure out who, why didn't she act on it and tell someone who would do something? Does she not care? Sorry, I just realized all of that. I really did like this, though.
Feel free to PM me with any questions or comments or anything,
MidnightVampire

seventeen
Hey there Woolster. Thanks for posting on my will review for food thread. I enjoyed this, it is not the type of fiction that I normally read, but it does carry elements of the type that I normally read. (By that, this seems a kind of historical piece, set in times that have past, historical fiction being my favourite. )

Shadow is most definitely an interesting character, and I will talk more of the matter later.

To second Sumi, PM me when you post the next chapter too, I shall happily oblige to reviewing another chapter.

Anyway, I'm going to run through the piece and then do a small critique at the end:

Shadow Tattybogle was quite certain of two things. Firstly, Mistress had chosen a hopelessly uncoordinated dance partner. Second, the man in the corner was going to kill someone.

As a first paragraph I find this quite lovely, you take a matter that is evidently extremely serious - killing someone - and make it almost seem light hearted, almost satiric. Furthermore I love the contrast between the two things that Shadow was sure of. However, I might take out the surname, as it seems to slightly disrupt the tone, but that opinion is one which does not really matter, and shall not really impact the story either way.

The violins sang sweet and wide, their sound waving through the ballroom and curling around the dancing couples.

I am inclined to agree with the 'waving', as sound moves in sound waves, so that is obviously a very fitting description of how the sound would look if it were to be... y'know... visible. However, I'm not too sure about the curling, would not it be the dancing couples curling around the music instead of the other way around? Maybe you could change it to something like: The violins sang sweet and wide, their sound waving through the ballroom, allowing dancing couples to curl around it. Or perhaps you could use curl around it like the ringlets upon the ladies' hair, to add a metaphor. It's generally up to you though.

Shadow yawned and leaned back against the leg of Mistress’ empty chair.

This implies that Shadow is sitting on the floor, yes? Yet later you go on to say that she is watching spots of light refract off of the ladies' jewellery. This is being very picky, but: If you were sitting on the floor in order to see light reflect off of necklaces your head would have to be tilted upwards at quite an angle. The language in this suggests that this took place sometime in the past, and this is furthered by the fact that they are at a ball, so in the time that this is set (If it is set in the past) a degree of manners would be necessary, and people probably wouldn't be able to tilt their heads back at such an angle without looking rather un-lady like. xD I can be very nit-picky indeed!

She half-closed her eyes and squinted up at the chandelier on the ceiling.

This is fine but chandeliers are generally on the ceiling. xD Therefore the on the ceiling is a little redundant, but not to a point that it must be removed.

The light blurred and doubled, shining in long thin rays that moved whenever the hybrid tilted her head. Spots of light caught on the jewels of the women as they circled their partners, long skirts and frothy petticoats spreading out like petals of unfurling flowers. The music sent out a long, tight string of final chords; the women curtseyed, the men bowed, and the dance ended.

This is quite sufficient, but perhaps you could elaborate upon your descriptions here? The woman curtseyed is quite fine, but perhaps you could tell us of the manner with which the woman curtseyed, perhaps the men glanced to the side in order to choose a new partner?

Mistress came tripping back to her seat, her cheeks flushed.

Yes, I definitely think it much better without the exercise.

‘Oh,’ she exclaimed, sinking back into her chair and fanning herself. ‘Oh, that boy was a dreadful dancer.’

I quite like the dialogue, it's realistic and something that I would expect of a real person, but would they refer to someone as 'boy'? Unless they were of course actually a child, but the fact that this is a ball suggests to me that the people here are adults.

‘He was too short for you, Mistress,’ Shadow said. ‘You need someone taller. Like Baron Achan.’

I like this, I like the way you subtly hint at physical features and appearence, I do hate being told what someone looks like, but having it dropped into conversation is a very human thing to do.

Mistress giggled. ‘He is tall, isn’t he? But then, he’s only a baron. I’d never dance with a baron.’

Now, this is perhaps the bit that confused me. Earlier Mistress talked of her dancing with a boy, yet now she cannot dance with a baron? Is not a baron of higher class than a boy? Unless mistress thinks herself too low in social standing to dance with a baron, but the only implies different.

‘Tall, special and not a baron,’ Shadow said gravely.

Parts like these make Shadow quite adorable. The contrast between the things she says and the tone she says it in is rather humorous. Furthermore, the irony of her character is lovely.

Mistress laughed again. She patted Shadow’s head and then raised her hand to smooth her own golden hair

Ah, you do not manage to insert physical appearence quite as subtly in here as you did previously. Rather the contrary, here it gives the false impression that shadow has golden hair too, which we find out later to be false.

, arranged in a mass of curls around her ears and bound up at the back. ‘Where has Margaret got to? I want a drink.’ She scanned the crowded ballroom. ‘Oh, bother that girl. Shadow, you go and get me one.’

Earlier Mistress talks to Shadow as if she were a friend of slightly lower class than herself, a sort of sympathetic friendliness, now she instructs her to do something.

‘But of course, Mistress.’ Shadow rose to her feet and wove her way through the ball guests to the table where the punch was being served. Dressed in a long black cape, she was a thin, scarecrow-like creature, about the height of a ten year old human child. Her face was small and round, framed by thin, wispy black hair cut very short and close to her head.

If your hair is wispy, wouldn't it need to possess length in order to deem it so? Generally it would have to have a little length at least, unless it was the type that babies have. xD

When she moved, it was with a slight awkwardness, as though she were a puppet guided by too long strings.

Hm... as much as I like the imagery here I think you should elaborate upon it. Expand it. Make it more than it is. Also, I'm not too sure about the diction. as though she were a puppet guided by too long strings The meaning you're trying to get across is fairly simplistic, but the way you do it is not. The use of the word too suggests that you mean two, and you evidently don't. To me this sounds as if you mean: as though she were a puppet guided by two long strings Whereas actually you mean: as though she were a puppet being guided by strings that were too long. Just be careful of the word order &c. Elaboration for the imagery too.

She stopped before the table, stood on her tiptoes and gently tapped her fingernail against a glass. The footman serving there looked down at her. She smiled. ‘Mistress wants a drink.’

I love the irony between the action and the statement again here. The use of the smile, contrasting to the statement, which is a domineering, imperative voice. It's a demand with a smile. Irony, I love it!

The footman glanced over to where Mistress sat and nodded. ‘The punch isn’t warm yet. You’ll have to wait.’ He spoke slowly and clearly, as though to a small child, and Shadow’s smile grew wider, showing tiny pointed white teeth, like a kitten’s.


‘Yes’m,’ she said sweetly. ‘I can wait.’


The footman looked unenthusiastic, but he said nothing and went back to staring at the opposite wall. Shadow could hear the thoughts running through his head: (really don’t like that hybrid small strange looks wrong not right things they say about hybrids). She looked up at him sorrowfully, but he ignored her. She sighed and looked at the brightly-lit ballroom, full of Anglisc barons, countesses and earls. Mingled among the Anglisc were Vitelian men and women, darker and shorter and less at ease. They stood out like dark velvet in a drawer full of bright silks, and many of them were gathered in tight knots, not talking with the rest of the ball guests.


Shadow eyed them condescendingly. She didn’t like the Vitelians, mainly because she couldn’t understand their thoughts. They had only been here for a few weeks, but they had already become a familiar sight around the castle, walking through the corridors in groups of their own, listening to the musicians in the main hall, talking to the other guests in their thick, accented Anglisc.

The last word in this paragraph you are using to indicate the language, yes? Then shouldn't it have another letter(s) Earlier you talk of Anglisc barons but shouldn't it be angliscian? Like France, when talking of the language is French.

The musicians had started playing again. The violins wove their many-stringed melodies, dropping them like a net over the room, and a flute threaded a clear string of sound in-between the gaps. People began to pair up and join each other on the dance floor. At the end of the room, Prince Thunor and the Vitelian Princess Iuliana rose from their seats and joined the other dancers. Shadow watched them through narrowed golden eyes.

I most definitely agree with everyone else about her face. I had imagined her thin, dark eyed and pale. Yet she has golden eyes, so now I expect her skin to be darker, yet colour in the face makes me think of health, and I do not imagine Shadow is healthy, but I could be wrong.

Iuliana took the prince’s hand and looked up at him, smiling. She was like a small, rather plump bird – a black robin, Shadow thought, or a miniature raven, while the prince was cast in a different mould entirely. Tall, slim and pale, with wavy light-brown hair, he was a complete contrast

You've already told of him being a different mould altogether, no need to repeat yourself.

, yet he looked oddly fitting at Iuliana’s side. ‘Like cheese and fruit cake,’ Shadow murmured to herself. Pleased with her analogy, she repeated it in a louder voice, drawing a few mildly curious looks from people wondering what Duchess Alarise Cranley’s pet hybrid was up to now.

Pet? So she is not a slave but a pet? Would a pet be ordered to complete tasks for its mistress?

Behind her, the footman lifted the lid off the bowl, stirred the punch and ladled a portion of it into a cup. Wrapping it in a napkin, he said, ‘There you are. Don’t spill any.’


Shadow took the glass. It was warm, even through the napkin, and smelled ripe and fruity. A little curl of steam rose above the clear orange surface, like a wisp of dragon’s breath.

I rather like this line, but again I feel you could elaborate upon your descriptions.

‘Don’t spill it,’ the footman warned.


‘No’m, thank you. Mistress’ kind regards to the punchbowl.’ She began to walk slowly and carefully back to Mistress’ chair. She held the cup in front of her, her eyes fixed upon it, and her tongue touching her top teeth in concentration.


‘Oh, thank you, Shadow,’ Mistress said, reaching out and taking the cup. She sipped it and patted her lips with the napkin. ‘Sit, Shadow. Sit.’


Shadow sat down in her old position beside the chair. Mistress’ skirts were close to her face, rustling slightly, and Shadow could smell Mistress’ perfume trapped in the folds of the fabric. She reached out a finger and poked a crease in the pale blue silk. Then she looked up, her head on one side, looking at the people surrounding the king and queen. She looked thoughtful, and said, ‘That man’s going to kill someone.’


‘What was that, Shadow?’ Mistress looked down absently.


‘That man’s going to kill someone.’


‘Oh.’ Mistress went back to her punch.

Hitherto Mistress had thought of Shadow rather as a friend than a servant, yes? She regarded Shadow's opinions to some extent and thought of her as a friend maybe? Now, does Mistress know of Shadow's thought-reading? She evidently knows of her being a hybrid, but does she know of her though-reading? In which case she would say a little more than 'oh' at having discovered someone was going to die. Rather, she was going to be terrified, scared that it would be her to die. I doubt she'd casually reply with an 'oh', and return to her drink.

Shadow leaned against the chair leg and began to hum quietly, watching Prince Thunor and Iuliana dancing together. The wedding was only a few weeks away, now. It would be, in the words of Shadow’s elders and betters

According to whom? Shadow? Or themselves?

, a turning point in Anglisca’s history, the alliance with Vitelia that would end centuries of conflict. ‘A skipping-stone in our history,’ Shadow murmured to herself. ‘Paving the way for future germinations.’

Quite hilarious. Shadow is most definitely a wonderful character.

‘Alarise!’ Jemima came and sat next to Mistress. ‘Why aren’t you dancing?’


‘I’m so hot.’ Mistress flapped her fan. ‘And the last boy I danced with was so awful.’


Jemima laughed. For some minutes they sat quietly, watching the twirling and sliding figures on the dance floor. Shadow’s humming was almost lost in the music coming from the musicians next to them. Then Mistress said, ‘Iuliana’s quite short, isn’t she?’


‘Vitelians are.’


‘Yes, but compared to Thunor. I mean, she’s tiny.’


Jemima frowned slightly. ‘It’s not very polite to say so. Remember that she will be the one becoming queen after aunt dies.’

Hm... I'm not too sure about this society you have here. It is acceptable to sit on the floor and stare upwards quite un-lady-like-ly, but it is not to comment on someone's height? Perhaps you should re-evaluate the ideals of the place to make it more plausible.

‘Sour grapes,’ Shadow said dreamily.


Jemima looked down at her rather irritably. Mistress giggled, then gave a tiny squeak. ‘Oh my goodness, Jemima, look! Father’s dancing with Domina Celer!’

Mistress, hitherto, appeared quite a mature character, so to speak, she did not seem one to squeak, and to comment so excitedly upon her father's dancing with someone of importance? Or beauty? Or possessor of some other great virtue that we are not made aware of. Perhaps your society is at fault again here?

‘Don’t point!’


Shadow raised her head and looked. Grand Duke Romil Cranley was indeed holding the hand of a small, thin and very brown Vitelian lady. She had a great amount of dark hair, probably not all her own, piled on top of her head in a mass of curls and twists. Romil, tall and broad and white-haired, with the beginnings of a paunch, danced gravely around her, treading the steps carefully and precisely. His daughters gazed at him in delight.

I thought they did not like the Vitelians? Or was that just Shadow? If it was just Shadow then Mistress shouldn't show so much excitement at seeing her father dancing with a Vitelian, seeing as she has nothing against them, so to speak. If you get what I mean.

Shadow watched him for a few seconds, then looked away uneasily. Unnerved by the young women’s laughter, she looked towards the end of the room where the king and queen sat, watching their son and future daughter-in-law dance together. King Amory, broad-shouldered and red-haired and Queen Rahel – just as tall as her husband, with straight light hair and a calm, pale face, watching over proceedings like two grave eagles minding a flock of young fledglings.


Shadow’s gaze lingered on the queen, straining Rahel's thoughts through her mind (dance Iuliana and Thunor dance well together) like milk through muslin (Iuliana Vitelian Vitelian Vitelian Vitelians curse).


Shadow considered the queen’s last thought. Curse was a strong word. Mistress always looked confused when people muttered about the Vitelian curse. Shadow had heard her ask Romil, ‘But papa, isn’t the wedding a good thing? Stopping years of war and everything?’


Romil had crinkled his eyebrows and said, ‘Politics, Alarise. No one ever agrees.’


Now Shadow wondered if Romil thought the same as his sister the queen did. She looked from the queen to Romil and back again. This time the queen felt Shadow’s gaze on her and turned to meet it. She smiled, and Shadow smiled back cheerfully, bobbing her head.


The dance ended. Romil came to sit with his daughters and frown in mock-sternness at their comments and laughter over his dancing partner.


When Shadow next looked for the man who was going to kill someone, his corner was empty, with only an empty glass left to mark the spot.

Good hook.



----

Critiscm about everything, but mostly about Shadow. What are your impression of her? Does she seem believable, likeable? If she's random, then that's kind of the point. ^_^

I really enjoyed this piece, Woolster. It was well written and interesting. Your protagonist was fresh and original.

Just be careful with physical appearences and such.

As to Shadow's successfulness - She was definitely successful. There was an air of hilarity and irony about her. She was fresh, original and interesting


All of the characters were good, but Shadow was great.

The relationship between her and Mistress was very interesting, however I do have something to say about it:

In the first part of this piece you talk of Mistress having put aside a possible dance partner due to his being a baron. Now, a baron is lower than Mistress, yes? Yet a hybrid has got to be even lower than a baron, therefore why does Mistress exchange mutual kindliness with Shadow but will not even consider dancing with a Baron? This isn't a criticizm, it is merely an observation.

Anyway, I enjoyed this, please PM me when the next chapter is out;

~Kirsten

Hahah, I've just realised I've been calling you Woolster when it's actually Wooster. xD

Apologies;


---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

~Kirsten

Shadow Tattybogle was quite certain of two things. Firstly, Mistress had chosen a hopelessly uncoordinated dance partner. Second, the man in the corner was going to kill someone.

You hooked me right away, first with the name, then with the third sentence. The last name is so unique and reminds me of some sort of swamp creature that leads travelers to their deaths (I forget what it's called >.<). I also liked how it was so incongruous and made me do a double take. In addition, I adored how you juxtaposed something as trivial as a badly matched dance partner to a man plotting to kill someone. :3 It also got me curious how Shadow knew the man was going to kill someone, who the someone they were going to kill was, and who the man himself is.

I enjoyed your descriptions; they didn't feel overpowering, but there were enough of them for me to get a basic picture of the setting. In particular, I enjoyed how you described the music. The lack of physical description of the characters didn't bother me, mainly because characterization is more important to me than physical appearances.

Speaking of characterization, Shadow was very nicely characterized. She's intriguing and compelling in her own right, and elements of her appearance such as her height and status as a hybrid (of what kind, though?) only adds to this. I really enjoyed reading about her.

Overall, I really enjoyed reading this and look forward to chapter two. I want to see what that man is up to, who he kills, and what Shadow is going to do about it (if anything). :3

Amazing! that was freaking awesome. i totally felt like i was there, watching shadow, and the room around her. I'm still in shock! my friend (robin likes to write) told me about how amazing she thought this story was and that i needed to read it. so i did. And I'm so happy i did. Pm me when you post the next part of your story please!