A Chapter by RedRozeNinja13
Nothing compares to winter in Muortum. It is a beautiful thing. At least, to me it is. The way the snow glistens under the steady heel of your boot as you march ever onward, the way it glints against the pale moonlight, the bare trees whose branches stretch towards you like an anguished corpse’s fingers, the cold breeze that shivers like the tip of a sharpened knife…..
Beautiful. To me, it is flawless. The cold does not bother me, because cold never has. Never in the history of my life. I guess it would fail to affect someone, who, like it, is so numb inside. Perhaps numb isn’t exactly the correct way of describing it, but I do have a way of tuning things out and not feeling things that others would. And I’m fairly certain that is how one would describe the word ‘numb’. ‘Today’ I remember thinking, ‘Today is an Important day.’ and it was. Forever, even now, I will always remember that day. That winter in Muortum.
That day, I was being relocated, from my long-time residence and service in District 3, to District 1. District 1 is the district that is closest to Lord Death’s residence, his gaping empty palace high above it, where nobody resides save his lonely soul. People say he used to have a family, and that some tragedy took them away. Ever since then he has never left that palace, never spoken to anyone, even his own soldiers- his Slayers. If he has spoken to the people of Muortum since then, through some mouthpiece or representative, none of us have ever heard about it. It makes people skeptical, that we pledge such loyalty to a man we have not heard from for years, and may not hear from for years to come.
But you see, there’s just one little problem with District 1…..
There is no Slayer Academy.
It doesn’t make much sense, does it? That the place closest to our leader would have none of his personal defenders? Well, remember what I said before, about being able to make sense out of what is senseless? You’ll need that skill here too. Slayers brought to District 1 are usually the top of their class, and are always the best at what they specialize in. Megan was brought to District 1 a few months before I departed (Mistress Kay and I had a few loose ends to tie up), and since then there have been a few sparse letter exchanges, but nothing that would really tell me what was going on. Perhaps she just isn’t allowed to tell. From what I do grasp (or have been able to pry from her) there’s something about cooperating with hunters, blahblahblah, teamwork, blahblahblah, I love it here, blahblahblah, do you still have my sweater, blahblahblah. Yeah. That’s pretty much all I know. (And yes, I do still have her sweater.)
I can hear werewolves howling in the woods around me as I make my trek. It is not a full moon, but human myths have never had much truth to them in our world. I could have taken a mount, or carriage, or some of that new ‘technology’ (none of us like ‘cars’ or ‘automobiles’ so much, they exist, but many of us do not use them often, if at all), but I chose to walk. A simple two day trip through woodland in winter would be a great survival exercise, and it was. I didn’t need cushy luxuries or warmth to survive, and I took pride in that. I also took pride in the fact that my name was at the top of the list of District 3 Slayer Academy graduates. It wasn’t just that I “looked scary”, or that the front I put up was “Disconcerting”, I was vicious and strong. I was fearless. And I had a talent for hunting down all of the things that go bump in the night. Looking back, maybe all that I did was just a way to let out my anger, frustration, confusion, and hurt. But I still wouldn’t change a thing. I am who I am, and everything I’ve done- It is what defines me.
But that day, I feel like some part of me changed. I met someone that day that, despite differences, and arguments, and many nights of violence- I met someone that slowly, over an amount of time that I cannot explain, slowly grew to fill the hole that had come to rest in the center of my heart. The place where all of my hurt, anger, and frustration had gathered, and bred into a wild sea that I had somehow learned to manipulate to my advantage. In fact, I do believe if I am recounting the story, I should be running into said person in a matter of seconds now….
I brush the hair out of my face and stop abruptly, the steady crunching of snow halting with it. I am surprised, to say the least, that another person would be in the Forest of Thorns, especially in the dead of winter. After all, I’m pretty sure I’m the only person that does this for actual enjoyment. He sits on what must be a hill that I am approaching, at the peak he sits, watching the moon. Or at least, where the moon would be. Tonight is what the mortals below would call a “new moon”. Hence the sky is dark, void of it’s greatest light source. Stars still twinkle, but there does seem to be a gaping absence in the scenery tonight. His hair is black, like midnight, and feathered in a way that would make someone want to touch it as it falls in his face. He wears black and white (wow, how original in a colorless world), and his posture tells me that he has not yet noticed me. Naturally I am suspicious. What sort of man could sit so calmly in the midst of a restricted forest, when the wolves are howling as they are tonight?
“I would suggest moving.” I say, my voice is not stifled by the cold, and my breath drifts in front of me as an icy fog as I cross the snowy ground, my footsteps sure and steady, as they always are. And they always will be. Slayers do not hesitate. Hesitation is weakness. I have never hesitated a day in my life.
“Why?” He asks me, not even bothering to look back and see to whom he is speaking. His voice reminds me of shadows when the full moon is out, his voice is solid and yet it wavers, drifting in the wind like a ghostly song. But the word, ‘Why’, is often one that vexes me coming from others’ lips. Most of the time it is said with a mocking tone, the sort that grates against one’s nerves.
“Because if you don’t, I may just push you down that hill.” I cross my arms over my leather clad chest, and he turns to look over his shoulder at me. His eyes, as it would turn out, are a sort of silver, the sort of silver that is sharp and lethal. I immediately decide that I like those eyes. Not in the typical female way of ‘Oh my god! He has the dreamiest eyes!’, but in the slayer mindset, the mindset that said, ‘I could respect someone with eyes like that.’. And respect is something that is hard to come by, especially from someone who could very well be the most impeccably trained guard dog that the world has ever known. Because that’s what many people call Slayers, “Guard dogs”, at least those who aren’t altogether fond of them.
“Why would you do that? I’m just sitting here, getting all my ducks in a row.” He says nonchalantly, seeming to brush off my intrusion as though I were just a fly.
Let me get something off of my chest right now. I don’t understand metaphors like ‘Getting my ducks in a row’ or ‘Cat got your tongue?’ or things like that. I trip over them, and often mistake them for being literal, so I never use metaphors like that. I’m more of a straightforward kind of girl. If you catch my meaning . . . No not that meaning, you dirty minded scoundrel.
And me being, well, me, I look around the deceased and haunting forest.
“There are no ducks here.” I say blatantly, not amused with him at all. He gives me the strangest look. I just give him my steady gaze as he takes in my appearance, long black hair as dark as your worst nightmare, skin as pale as a porcelain doll, and a single eye, the right one, a blue jewel against the black and white scheme of our entire world, the left one covered by a simple black eyepatch and my dark bangs. A bullwhip is coiled at my right hip, which no doubt would attract any sane person’s eye.
“Can you answer a question of mine?” He asks.
“I suppose.” I say, still a bit cautious.
“What are you doing out here in this forest anyway? A serious person like you.”
“Well, I’m not here being worthless like you. And I have none of these ‘ducks’, if that is what you are implying.” I state.
“Are you always so literal?” He narrows his eyes.
“Yes. Now might I ask you a question?”
“Go ahead. You know, if you don’t have a duck, I could be a duck-”
“ShSh!” I say hurriedly, holding up a finger. My fingers are long and thin, nimble. My perfectly curved nails are a lacquered black, like those of a dead body, and they give off a threatening sheen in the night. “My question.” I remind him.
“Yeah, go ahead.” He ushers, clearly getting a bit impatient with me.
“Does this hurt?”
“Does what hurt? Are you crazy or something?-”
And I push him down the hill. Just one quick shove. And man is that a steep hill, I whistle as he tumbles down. But of course- then I feel what may just be a twinge of regret (because if he broke his neck, I would still be legally responsible) and so I hike down after him, my heels leaving odd prints in the snow.
We didn’t even know each other’s names yet- and later, we would laugh about this day, but that was the day that the world started to change. It was destined to change from that day forward.
And the world didn’t even know it.
That was the day ice met shadow, that was the day the knight met the nightingale, that was the day I met the personification of my dark aura- and it was not afraid of me.
That was the day Aurora Nightingale met Kurai Darknight.
A Chapter by RedRozeNinja13
Well, as it would turn out, he didn’t break his neck that day. But he was very huffy and incredulous that I’d actually push him such a distance and then just walk so calmly after him. What, did he expect me to run? I don’t run for people I don’t care about. And besides, if he had broken his neck, his corpse wouldn’t be going anywhere, so my hurrying wouldn’t make a difference. And I might have even helped him up, had he not already gotten himself up and started shouting at me. At which point I just turned and walked away. I don’t have to listen to anyone who is not my superior, I especially do not have to listen to a young man shouting at me like a young child. If he hadn’t been so insolent in the first place, maybe he wouldn’t have gotten pushed down the hill, think about that, hm?
“Will you slow down for one damn minute!” He shouts after me, my steps are coming at a faster tempo now, in an attempt to outwalk him, without running. I don’t want it to seem like I’m afraid of him. Of course, I don’t stop, or slow down for that matter. I marvel inside my head at the beauty of the frayed ropes that remain of the nooses tethered to the deceased trees’ branches. If only I had a camera…..
“You psychopath! Aurora Nightingale! Stop!” and I do. I do stop. I stop and turn abruptly, and next I know, we both have a hand around the other’s neck. (Simultaneous choke holds, looking back it may just be the most warm and fuzzy romantic moment I’ve ever felt.) It doesn’t surprise me that he has grabbed me, that in itself isn’t odd, but I have the upper hand, because I know in a fight, or even if we were just to strangle each other, I would win. Because I don’t lose. The facts of life are just as simple as that. Things destroyed completely cannot be fixed, and Slayers do not lose. Those two things I have learned like a sort of religion.
“How do you know my name?” I snap, clenching my fingers slightly around his throat in a threatening manner. He looks at me with those silver eyes, in a way that says he doesn’t really care all too much what I do or what I don’t do at this point. After all, he has what he wanted. I’ve stopped. For now. He doesn’t seem to understand I could snap his neck with my fingers at this point. Or at least, if he does know, he doesn’t care. Suicidal imbecile. Well, it wouldn’t be the first person a suicidal person has approached me….
“You’re my trainer.” He says stiffly. He says trainer like it’s a swear word. Dirty and venom to his tongue. I’m not entirely sure I like where this is going either, or what the word “Trainer” entails coming from this young man. I trained for years to become a slayer, but am I a demon hunting trainer? Hell no. I’m not a teacher. Megan and I agreed a while ago that if I were a teacher all of my kids would be dead or crying after the first fifteen minutes!(Yeah, kids don’t like me so much….we’ve never really been able to grasp why.). Even at the chapel, Megan and I were never allowed to watch the children. People don’t trust slayers with children, probably for good reasons, but I mean, come on! We were at the chapel. Only a monster would do something at the chapel.(The Chapel is like the church of Muortum. Every district has one, but the Chapel is an odd sort of church, twisted to our world. We learn of our own world’s history and our own ruler/god. You’ll never find a more devoted chapel attendee than a Slayer.)
“What the hell are you talking about crazy man?” I narrow my eye, this young man is looking more and more irritated with me. Like I should just drop all suspicions and just believe everything he has to say. Sorry Sir, but I wasn’t trained like that.
“God, were you the one in Antarctica? Geez, just my luck. To get the worst Slayer out there.” He spits snidely.
“Let’s get something straight. I am not from Antarctica, nor have I ever had the pleasure of visiting it. I am perfectly capable of maiming you for life. So you had better start explaining before I find a mountain to throw you down, am I clear?”
“Crystal.” He glares at me, I feel like the words ‘Frigid B***h’ are forming on his lips. After all, that is my affectionate little nickname from all who loathe me. They loathe me because I am cold and do not care enough to interpret their feelings. I only waste that effort on ones I care about. And sometimes, I’ll be honest, I just don’t care. So if that makes me a ‘Frigid B***h’, then that I am.
“Then explain. Before I lose my patience with you.” I snap.
“Did you not get the memo? Slayers are of a dying breed, I’m sure you’ve noticed that at the very least. Nobody wants to be a Slayer anymore. But I bet you didn’t notice that Hunters are dying early, and in larger numbers, because the ‘dark things’ are getting inexplicably stronger.”
“Why should I care? They are not of my branch. They made the wrong choice. It’s none of my business nor is it any of my concern.” I say coldly, tossing him into the snow back first in such a motion that tears his hand from my throat and slams his back against the frozen earth with a loud ‘poomf!’ as snow goes flying. As he gasps to regain the wind knocked out of him, I set my heeled boot steadily on top of him, the six inch black stiletto digging into his abdomen slightly.
“You still haven’t answered my question. How. Do. You. Know. My. Name?” I give him my famous one eyed glare.
“In order to help stop this trend, Slayers are being brought to the first district, alongside hunters, and paired together. Slayers are the trainers, they’re supposed to help prepare hunters- preferably in a non painful manner… And you are my Trainer.”
“Hm.” I laugh slightly, a quick short laugh behind closed lips. “You said ‘preferably’. And too bad for you, that my teaching, will not be painless.” I dig my heel deeper into his abdomen for a moment, just far enough to ensure it’ll leave a bruise, before I take a step back and pull him up by his arm. I’m surprised to find he has a fairly good set of muscles underneath his loose black shirt. And since I trampled him so easily, I know exactly what we’re going to have to work on. This could be the most fun I’ve had in years….
“You lack finesse.” I tell him, in the same manner I would tell him that he had just dropped his fork.
“What? You haven’t even seen me in action yet!” he protests.
“I’ve seen plenty. I don’t need a long and drawn out exhibition from you. I can tell from just this encounter. You’re strong, yes, but anyone can be strong. You bank on that to give you the upper hand. And hence, you just had your a*s handed to you.” I flip my dark hair over my shoulder, and for the first time he sees the eyepatch that was hidden beneath my long bangs. He eyes it for a long moment, before looking away.
“I don’t think I like you.” he grumbles bitterly, because he knows I am right.
“The feeling is mutual.” I reply calmly.
The feeling is mutual. Everyone wants to have their feelings returned, even a person who only hates, they want someone to hate them back, so they can have a satisfying fight. But mutual feelings, in the end, only cause more trouble than they are worth. I learned this the hard way, In these years, it would turn out, that I learned a lot of things ‘The hard way’...
I thought I liked ‘The Hard Way’, turns out, sometimes….it hurts.
And sometimes, hurt isn't a good thing.
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Chapter Four: Violence is absolutely, 100%, ALWAYS the answer for everything.A Chapter by RedRozeNinja13And this is where it starts to get strange, because I’m not sure wether I should cover that awkward and abrupt period of time where we went to the first district Capital together (in lapsing stages of arguing and then brooding silence the whole way) and moved in together (an even more awkward and abrupt situation- but it’s a regulation that the trainers and trainees live in the same environment for at least a year) or just jump ahead in our lives, moving ahead to the point where we achieved some odd sense of normalcy. And that in itself was abrupt and awkward. Because we didn’t know what to do with each other once we had gotten “semi-used” to one another, and we each knew that the other wouldn’t be going anywhere for a looooooooooong while. I made it clear that I wouldn’t be leaving because I was called here and could not go home until I had the return mandate form that would allow me to return without shame. And he made it clear that he wasn’t leaving because 1-I had technically moved into his apartment, and 2- He was here first. Both of which struck me as fairly stupid and flimsy reasons for staying. I was kept here by honor and legal reasons- he was here for sentimental things. He could get up and leave and nobody would tell him that he couldn’t. And he could take his floozy girlfriend, MaryLu(or something like that) with him. She really doesn’t like me and I really don’t like her. We have a common silent understanding not to rip each other’s throats out. (As if a girl like her could, she’d probably be afraid she’d chip a nail or something of the like.) And since I would rather not like to recap those first few odd weeks of us “getting a feel for each other”, I think I’ll just fast forward to a random point in time. After the “settling period” but before anything important really happened. Maybe if you’re lucky, later I’ll recap the story of how Kurai tried to lock me out of the house on the second night and I put a nest of scorpions in his bedsheets. But like I said, later, if you’re lucky. And if Kurai doesn’t tell me not to tell you how he screamed at two pm in the “morning” like his girlfriend when the water in the shower runs cold. Those were good times, but once again- later. If he doesn’t tell me that I can’t. Because at the point of time we are currently in, we sort of have to listen to one another….and respect one another….and not kill one another. It’s very hard. He keeps breathing on me. He knows I hate it when people breathe on me. He also knows I hate it when he tells me what I can or can’t do and I usually do it anyway, so even if I do tell you he can’t get upset with me. My logic is flawless. But anyway! A random time before we really did anything. ..... “Your roommate is glaring at me again.” MarySue complains loudly, I’ve just walked into the room and am going into the kitchen to find a few knives to lend Megan. Because she’s playing darts and needed more, and I’m such a nice person. Yeah- Megan plays darts with potentially lethal objects….the only times it’s a little strange are those times when there are so many holes in her walls she comes over to use mine. Times like today. Honestly, you think she’d use her Trainee’s walls, Link. I know that’s what I’d do to Kurai if I ran out of proper wall space. I’ve already ‘convinced’ him to hang my portrait of Vlad the Impaler in his room, and by convinced I mean,’if-you-don’t-I’m-going-to-change-the-alarm-system-code-again-and-I-won’t-tell-you-what-it-is-there’s-just-not-enough-space-in-my-room-for-it-so-shut-up’. He’s learned to put up with my ‘negotiations’. Which require him negotiating and me just rephrasing the same thing over and over again. “I’m not glaring at you princess, I just have one eye. I can’t change that, MaryLu. No matter how much it may vex you” I narrow my eye as I trudge into the kitchen, wearing my ‘lazy day’ clothes, some black sweats and a dark blue workout tank. I open the knife drawer and clink through them, trying to find the ones we could probably do without, should they get damaged. Mary-whosiewhatsit is sitting on the couch with Kurai in the dark room, watching some lame movie about lame romantic stuff and what will probably be a lame ending. Aka- a movie I wouldn’t be caught dead watching. “You should get that fixed. You should also try being a little more polite. That bad attitude isn’t hiding anything, one-eyed-bat. And it’s MARIANA, how many times have I told you?” she snaps from the couch, curled under Kurai’s left arm. I suppress a low growl deep in my throat as I slam the knife drawer closed. “Doesn’t matter what I call you, seeing you’ll still be the same little ray of sunshine you always were. The same annoying, bitchy, irritating, can’t-get-out-of-your-” “Aurora, I feel the need to remind you that you are holding sharp objects and your eye is doing that twitchy thing again.” Kurai chimes, not even looking over his shoulder at me, and popping a kernel of popcorn in his mouth as he rubs Mariana’s shoulder. I bare my fangs at MaryFlu and she gasps incredulously as I shuffle back to my room. “You’ll pay for this in the gym tomorrow.” I growl at Kurai. “Oh I’m sure I will.” he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose as though he had forgotten that I pretty much own him except on weekends. Hey, it’s something Little Miss Sunshine surely doesn’t forget. She hates it. And I relish in that fact. Making enemies is a gift, being able to push all of their buttons- that’s just one of the greatest pleasures in life. “Ok Sparkypants, I’ve got your knives.” I say, closing the door to my room behind me. “And I’ll give them to you, so long as you promise to punch as few holes as possible in my walls.” I emphasize, speaking slowly to make sure she hears me. Megan’s mind tends to go too fast sometimes, as in, she only hears certain things. As in, sometimes only ever the first and last things you say. As in, sometimes it really pisses me off. As in, sometimes I just want to CHUCK A HEARING-AID AT HER HEAD. I guess everyone has that friend that likes to pretend not to hear certain things and rubs you the wrong way sometimes. But in my case- she’s my only friend. Which somehow manages to drive me even further up the wall. Hey, I was born a loner. Not even Miss Firecracker can change that. “OkOkOk! Whatever! Just gimmegimmegimme!” She reaches out her fingers like a little child, which I guess she would be, you know, at heart. She’s sitting on the edge of my bed in her ripped up jeans and her own lazy-day red tank. It’s really weird how we unintentionally match sometimes. Like….really weird. Freaky weird. Her wild red hair is frizzy today, not that it isn’t usually frizzy lately, but it’s just a wild mess today- like she hasn’t taken the time to brush it this “morning”. And chances are, she hasn’t. She takes lazy day to the extreme. Using up every extent of the word ‘lazy’. Except when it comes to breaking into our apartment. She’s always pretty damn creative about that. Too damn creative. We’ve already changed the locks three times...and the windows. Because she kind of got fed up and smashed a few of those too, when she was feeling ‘lazy’ and didn’t feel like being stealthy, or picking locks, or breaking our security system...again. Let’s just say having Megan as your best friend can be pretty expensive….and threaten the sanctity of the privacy of your home pretty severely. It’s a good thing demon slaying pays well….and that I never had much sanity anyway. “Nooo….” I pull the knives away from her, towards my chest. “I will give you the knives when you tell me what I just said to you.” I state in a ‘you-better-do-as-I-say’ sort of manner. Even Megan and her crazy, frizzy, fireball mind grasps the concept that I have a line, and she shouldn’t cross it or try to push it. Megan usually stays a few good inches away from the line, but she loves seeing what happens to others when they do cross it. Yup. We’re sadistic. We admit it. And we like it. Neither of us would change that for the sake of the world, it’s just how we grew up and what we’ve become. We fit each other very nearly like puzzle pieces, she’s everything I’m not, and I vice versa. But we both share a common feeling imbedded deep within our bones, seated deep in our hearts in a way that will always be a thorn, jabbing and pricking you and making you uncomfortable and angry at times. Because it is a thorn we will never be able to remove. The thorn of hatred has burned Megan alive, and frozen me as though I were just a snowflake lying on the blood-drenched ground. Both of us have come to know what true pain is, be it abandonment, or betrayal, or having someone dear to you ripped away. And both of us, we wouldn’t trade those experiences for anything. We understand that they make us, That they created who we are today. That is what makes Megan and I so strong, so ruthless. We power ourselves off of what was taken from us, off of how we were wronged, off of the revenge we will never be able to obtain- The Thorn of Hatred is what drives us. “No holes in your walls! I GOT IT!” She bounces up and down like a small child. She loves playing ‘darts’, but she doesn’t like damaging the more expensive and decorous blades in her knife collection...and she sort of already used all of Link’s, and her own, kitchen knives, pocket knives, and spare knives.(Which she made art with and is now refusing to remove from her walls, even though her neighbor is complaining about a knife tip penetrating their bathroom wall….that neighbor being Kurai. I honestly thought it was pretty cool and gave her props for such a feat…. They also can’t make sushi anymore….or anything else that requires the cutting of food-esque items.) “Close enough.” I sigh, rolling my eye and tossing them to her. Tossing knives at any other person would be considered reckless and downright dangerous, but for Megan and I it was child’s play. Knives are basic tools for Slayers, which was why I was a bit surprised when Megan made them her specialty weapon. I can’t say I was ever so shocked though, she always has been edgy and unpredictable. Knife wielding most definitely suits her. “Oh god, THANK YOU!” She proclaims loudly, “You have no idea how badly I’ve been wanting to throw something lately!” I look up to see she’s put a poster on my ceiling and she flops down on her back beside me as I lay on my bed. Any normal person would be alarmed that some psychopath was going to start throwing knives at a target right above their face. But not me. I didn’t mind. Danger is good, it reminds you that you are alive. And I trust Megan, to an extent. She almost never misses. And by almost never I mean, ‘Hey-remember-that-one-time-’, yeah. That sort of thing. But Megan’s been spot on ever since that one time ^ ^. Particularly since after that one time I nearly strangled her to death for driving a knife into my leg during archery lessons. (What was she even doing with a knife during archery lessons? Once again, a story for another time. Megan does a lot of things she shouldn’t….come to think of it we sort of both do. But no matter what anyone says that is not a character flaw.) “How’s living with Mr.Hotface?” Megan asks with a wink. Sometimes I wish I could wink. Honestly it just looks like I’m closing my eye or blinking if I try. And then I remember how stupid winking even is and I get the hell over it. “Mr.Hotface? Is that what you call him? He’s such a priss. He doesn’t want to listen and that girlfriend of his makes me want to sharpen a pencil with my teeth just to stab her with it.” I watch as she pelts one of the boys in the boy band poster right in the nose and I have to suppress a laugh. “If you do that-can I help?” She asks with a serious tone, piercing the same young fellow’s lips with the crunching sound of tearing paper. I scoff and toss her a sideways glance, she nonchalantly shears off another prettyboy’s ear. Man do I respect her knife-throwing skills. “Sure. Why not?” I roll my eye, which always seems overly exaggerated, seeing as I only have one eye. Megan has tried sharpening things with her teeth before, let’s just say that was a very irritating night, seeing as she wouldn’t stop complaining about her bleeding gums and all that was left of what she had tried to sharpen was a gnawed on stump of pencil. I used that as a learning point for her- You cannot attempt to do everything I do. Fire witches and vampires have entirely different skill sets after all. Hey- she can light candles with a sneeze, I can sharpen pencils with my teeth, we’re pretty different as far as freaks go. “How are you and Link doing, again?” I ask, tracing the area around my eyepatch with my fingertips absentmindedly. Link is a controversial topic for us. She goes far too easy on him, is far too nice with him, almost even flirty with him. This raises the questions in the back of my mind, ‘What about us? What happened to the days when we only had each other?’. I miss those days, truthfully, They were much less complicated and much more enjoyable. Link is an annoyance that I would rather not put up with. I mean, yes, I too am a trainer, but I don’t canoodle with my student. That’s disgusting. He’s disgusting. Not to mention immature. One time he tried to throw his socks at me, that he had been wearing on his feet for days. I wanted to strangle him, but my self control must be getting better, because I didn’t. “Link and me? Oh, well, we’re fine. I suppose. Yeah, we’re fine. Aced our last job. Which leads me to the question- When are you and Kurai going on your first job?” She asks, skewing a knife through the third band member’s eye. “When I deem his a*s ready, that’s when. It kills me not being able to kill anything lately, but I’m not letting him think he’s done well enough to get in on action when all he’s done is slack off and ignore me. This would go so much better if he just took my advice.” “Your advice is kind of violent sometimes, Aura.” Megan says with a wavering voice, as though she’s a bit cautious of what my response to her words will be. “No, Megan.” I snap. “My advice is always violent. If you are going to make a statement like that you might as well make it accurate.” “Yeah, I remember the time you recommended hanging Link upside down by his toes the next time he tried to take the TV remote from me.” She replies, flipping the last remaining knife between her fingers. “And that was great advice.” I say truthfully. “Did you take it?” “No, I didn’t hang him upside down by his toes….” “And did he take the remote again? “Well…..yeah….” “Then that settles it. Next time you should decapitate him with a spoon.” There's a slight pause before she replies.
“I’m not sure if violence really should be your go-to answer for everything…..”
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(THe format for posting on this site doesn't like to to copy my writing style, spacing, indentation, and italics- so if you like the story I can refer you to a page where it will appear as it should)
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125,005 Literary Works • 672,798 Reviews
Herro! I know that you barely ever check the website now, as you have reason not to. But I feel like leaving you a review on this. I mean, it's not like I am prejudiced when it comes to it...wait maybe I am since I know you.
But anyway, you know that I love the story, but maybe I can point out a few parts that I truly loved?
So yes, I will be doing so.
You know I love the story, and I love how you write it. Aura has a special place in everyone's hearts as they read this, I would like to think.
Hi RedRozeNinja
First of all, I just want to say that you have such cool names for your characters. I love Kurai Darknight.
You started this second chapter so beautifully with your descriptions. I particularly enjoyed your depiction of the tree branches stretching out like a corpse's fingers. It's such a unique, vivid and darkly original image. I also loved your description of Lord Death's castle and Kurai Darknight's eyes. You are really good with creating evocative imagery.
The interaction between Kurai and Aurora was darkly funny and entertaining. The part where she took the "ducks" line literally revealed a kind of naiveté about her that I found endearing. Aurora's natural and unthinking hostility towards Kurai was funny, and I also like that Kurai doesn't seem intimidated or frightened by her, as most of the people around her seem to get scared sh*tless just by the mere sight of her. You successfully created a nice chemistry between these two characters in their first encounter, which makes me want to read more of them.
The second chapter is written very beautifully overall. However, I found your tendency to use ellipses a little distracting and not necessarily contributive. For example, I think you could do away with the ellipses at the end of the first paragraph of chapter 2. I haven't read the rest of the chapters yet, but I've noticed that you use ellipses a little too generously. It makes me wonder why you've placed them in moments where there is already enough tension and anticipation. You might be putting them there unconsciously, but I suggest you start thinking about why you are using them and what it contributes to the feel of the story...is it meant to create tension? ...or a sense of...melencholy?...or is this just an afterthought?...Why...all...the ellipses?
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ellipsis
I hope this review was helpful. I will be back soon for Chapter 3 and 4.
-Dreamworx.
I use ellipses to demonstrate Aura's Halting sort of thinking pattern- if it bothers you I could stop? Thank you for reviewing ^ ^ I always look forward to feedback ^ ^
Hi RedRoze, you don't have to eliminate ALL ellipses if you feel they are really necessary. I understand that you're trying to portray Aurora's thinking/speaking tendencies, but I just think you should consider what the ellipses are contributing to the writing. Try some variety, I suppose. For example, you could say, "Well," I paused. "Yeah." Instead of "Well...yeah." If that appeals more to you. All I'm saying is don't be afraid to try different things. Repetitiveness can detract (not saying that it does here) from a good piece of writing.
Timmyjake here to give you a short review!!
So I love your story line. How it flows and how you brought me into your story immediately, showing me your characters feelings. Her anger, etc...
I never really criticize content because I always get it wrong. But I will point out a few grammatical errors and punctuation.
Firstly, you need to take a look through it for run-on sentences and the like. They aren't too noticeable until you search for them, but I noticed a few. I will point one out just so you see what I mean...
The way the snow glistens under the steady heel of your boot as you march ever onward, the way it glints against the pale moonlight, the bare trees whose branches stretch towards you like an anguished corpse’s fingers, the cold breeze that shivers like the tip of a sharpened knife…..
So not a big deal, but I thought it was worth mentioning.
And one last thing. Punctuation. punctuation. punctuation. Something that really helps punctuation is turning on spell check for Microsoft Word. I don't know if you have already done that, but I find it a big help. Its mainly just quotation marks and periods.
And lastly, your paragraphs need to be shorter. When I think of a paragraph, I think of an idea. Like a long sentence. Once that idea has been expressed and a new idea is begun, it is time to start a new paragraph for the new idea.
The formatting is ALWAYS messed up when I post something, so no worries.
I like your writing style and I like this story. For some reason, it reminds me of Hunger Games. (No doubt because of the districts and that its written as its happening)
Keep writing!!
~Timmyjake
I don't really consider them run-on sentences so much, but that's probably just my writing style and the way it appears in the document I write it on. I'm glad you like it ^ ^ And thank you for taking the time to actually review ^ ^
Yep! And if you get a review that you see as negative, just push through it! Don't let it bother you.
I have not read your first chapter, so I'm just going to jump in here if that's all right.
I prefer to put my thoughts into a story as I read it. All edits and comments will be in brackets. A [x] means I removed something. If a sentence starts with a [?] that means I have a question or a comment at the end.
This review is just my opinion. You don't have to take any of my suggestions.
Nothing compares to winter in Muortum. It is a beautiful thing[, at least to me]. The way the snow glistens under the [x] heel of [my] boot as [I] march ever onward [across the -landscape-], the way it glints against the pale moonlight [and sits on] the bare trees whose branches stretch towards you like an anguished corpse’s fingers[.] [The] cold breeze [x] shivers like the tip of a sharpened knife[...]
Beautiful. To me, it is flawless. The cold [has never bothered me. I actually enjoy it.] I guess it would fail to affect someone [who is already numb on the inside.] Perhaps numb isn't exactly the correct way of describing it, but I do have a way of tuning [out feelings and the noisy world]. [I guess that would accurately] describe the word ‘numb’. [Descrive that day in particular to move the audience into a present moment.] [italicize]Today,[end italicize] I remember thinking, [italicize]Today is an Important day.[end italicize] [And] it was. Forever, even now, I will always remember that day. That winter in Muortum. [I have not read your first chapter yet, but I will say that this could very well work as a beginning for your story.]
That day[x] I was being relocated[x] from my long-time residence and service in District 3, to District 1. District 1 is the [x] closest [district] to Lord Death’s [x] gaping empty palace[.] [It sits high over Distric 1], [filled with only his singular empty soul]. People say he used to have a family, [but word is that they were whisked from him by some tragedy]. [He hasn't left the palace since.] [Never] spoken to anyone [since either], even his own [servant or] soldiers[.] [Soldiers.] [x] Slayers. If he has spoken [x]since then, [even] through some mouthpiece or representative, none of us have ever heard about it. [Some people criticize our loyalty to] a man [whose voice] we [haven't] heard from for years[.] [Have not heard in years, and] may not hear from for years to come.
[There is] just one little problem with District 1[.]
There is no Slayer Academy.
It doesn’t make much sense, does it? [The] place closest to our leader [has] none of his personal defenders[.] Well, remember what I said before, about [making] sense out of [the] senseless? You’ll need that skill here too. Slayers brought to District 1 are usually the top of their class, [x] always the best at what they specialize in. Megan was brought to District 1 a few months before I departed (Mistress Kay and I had a few loose ends to tie up), and since then there have been a few sparse letter exchanges, but [none of them really told] me what was going on. Perhaps she just isn’t allowed to tell. From what I do grasp (or have been able to pry [x]) there’s something about cooperating with hunters, blahblahblah, teamwork, blahblahblah, I love it here, blahblahblah, do you still have my sweater, blahblahblah. Yeah. That’s pretty much all I know. [x]And yes, I do still have her sweater.[x] [Bahaha, I love this bit. Made me smile]
[These thoughts swirl as I trek through the snow.] I can hear werewolves howling in the woods around me[x]. It is not a full moon, but human myths have never had much truth to them in our world. I [guess I] could have taken a mount [x] or carriage, or some [x] new ["]technology["] ([x] [x]cars[x] [and] [x]automobiles[x] [x] exist, but many of us do not use them often, if at all), but I chose to walk. [I knew a] simple two day trip through woodland in winter would be a great survival exercise, and it was.
[I went ahead an edited this next bit, but I'm not sure if you should keep it or not. It's good info that you could probably convey to the audience in another way. You might even reword it to make it fit. But right now it seems almost a bit ranty. Just my thoughts.]
I didn’t need cushy luxuries or warmth to survive, and I took pride in that. I also took pride in the fact that my name was at the top of the list of District 3 Slayer Academy graduates. It wasn’t just that I “looked scary”, or that the front I put up was “[d]isconcerting”[.] [Inside and out,] I was vicious and strong. I was fearless. And I had a talent for hunting down all of the things that go bump in the night. Looking back, maybe all that [stuff was just all that] anger, [all that] frustration [x] and hurt. [Raw emotions are a powerful thing, and can turn any man into a fearsome beast.] But I still wouldn’t [have] change[d] a thing. I am who I am, and [x] [these things define me, past included.]
[I cut this paragraph entirely and I'll go ahead and explain. It will seriously weaken the reader's investment in the story if you tell them outright what's going to happen. Here you have a perfect situation -- here's a mysterious stranger. The audience knows that this encounter is important, but they don't know why. Anything could come from this scene, and they want to see what's going to happen. At this point in time, you have momentum. Don't pop the balloon of intrigue. Keep up the uncertainty for a while.]
[I pause in these thoughts and] brush the hair out of my face[. I've stopped walking,] the steady crunching of [my boots through snow coming to a halt]. [Someone is sitting -location-]. [To say the least, I'm surprised] that another person would be in the Forest of Thorns, especially in the dead of winter. [I thought I was the only person who could handle the cold.] [x] He sits on [the peak of] hill [up ahead,] [staring at the absent spot in the sky where the moon should be.] Tonight is what the mortals below would call a “new moon”. [The clear overhead sky] is dark, void of it’s greatest light source. Stars [are still sprinkled across it], but [they can't possibly replace the moon]. [I turn my attention back to the stranger.] His hair is [as black as the dead sky.] [x]. He wears black and white (wow, how original in a colorless world), and his posture tells me that he has not yet noticed me. Naturally I am suspicious. What sort of man could sit so calmly in the midst of a restricted forest, when the wolves are howling as they are tonight?
“I would suggest moving.” I say[.] My voice is not [stiffened] by the cold, and my breath drifts in front of me [in] an icy fog[.] I cross the snowy ground towards him].[x]
“Why?” [he speaks without turning]. His voice [x] is solid and yet [supple], drifting [off into] the wind like a ghostly song. [The way he says] [italicize]why[end italicize] [vexes me.] [x]
“Because if you don’t,[' I tell him, "]I may just push you down that hill.” I cross my arms over my leather clad chest, and he turns to look over his shoulder at me. His eyes, as it would turn out, are a sort of silver, [x]sharp and lethal [like a blade]. I immediately decide that I like those eyes. Not in the [disgustingly] typical female [x] ‘Oh my god! He has the dreamiest eyes!’, but in the slayer mindset, the mindset that said, ‘I could respect someone with eyes like that.’[x] And respect is something that is hard to come by, especially from someone who could very well be the most impeccably trained guard dog that the world has ever known. [x]
“Why would you do that?[' he says slowly, carelessly. "]I’m just sitting here, getting all my ducks in a row.” [x]
Let me get something off of my chest right now. I don’t understand metaphors like ‘Getting my ducks in a row’ or ‘Cat got your tongue?’ or things like that. I trip over them, and often mistake them for being literal, so I never use metaphors like that. I’m more of a straightforward kind of girl. If you catch my meaning[...] [n]o not that meaning, you dirty minded scoundrel.
And me being, well, me, I look around the deceased and haunting forest.
“There are no ducks here[,]” I say [bluntly], not amused[x]. He gives me [a strange look]. I just [fix] him [in] my steady gaze as he takes in my appearance, long [x] hair as dark as [a] nightmare, skin as pale as a porcelain doll[.] [One of his eyes is covered by a simple black eyepatch.] [His other] eye, the right one, [looks like a] blue jewel against the black and white scheme of our entire world[.] A bullwhip is coiled at my right hip[. His eye flickers towards it.]
“Can you answer a question of mine?” [h]e asks.
“I suppose[,]” I say [cautiously].
“What are you doing out here in this forest[x]? A serious person like you.”
“Well, I’m not here being worthless like you. And I have none of these ‘ducks’, if that is what you are implying.” [x]
[He narrows his eyes.] “Are you always so literal?”
“Yes. Now might I ask you a question?”
“Go ahead. You know, if you don’t have a duck, I could be a duck-”
“Sh[h]!” I say hurriedly, holding up a [slim] finger. [My curved nails have a black sheen]. “My question[,]” I remind him.
“Yeah, go ahead.”[x]
“Does this hurt?”
“Does what hurt? Are you crazy or something?-”
And I push him down the hill. Just one quick shove. And man is that a steep hill, I whistle as he tumbles down. But of course- then I feel what may just be a twinge of regret (because if he broke his neck, I would still be legally responsible) and so I hike down after him, my heels leaving odd prints in the snow.
[x] [Stop telling the reader what's going to happen.]
[That was how I met] Kurai Darknight.
Chapter Three:The Feeling is Mutual.
A Chapter by RedRozeNinja13
Well, as it would turn out, he didn’t break his neck[x]y. But he was very huffy and incredulous that I’d actually push[ed] him such a distance [x] just [to] walk so calmly after him. What, did he expect me to run? I don’t run for people I don’t care about. And besides, if he had broken his neck [he wouldn't exactly have been going anywhere], so my hurrying wouldn’t [have made] a difference. [x]I might have even helped him up[x] had he not already gotten himself up and started shouting at me. [x] I just turned and walked away. I don’t have to listen to anyone who is not my superior, I especially do not have to listen to a young man shouting at me like a young child. If he hadn’t been so insolent in the first place, maybe he wouldn’t have gotten pushed down the hill, think about that, hm?
[The above paragraph is 100% telling and I highly suggest you take it and stretch the scene out. Instead of telling use she went down the hill only to get yelled at, give us the scene, movement by movement.]
“Will you slow down for one damn minute!” [h]e shouts after me[.] My steps are coming at a faster tempo now, in an attempt to outwalk him[x] without running. I don’t want it to seem like I’m afraid of him. Of course, I don’t stop, or slow down for that matter. I marvel inside my head at the beauty of the frayed ropes that remain of the nooses tethered to the deceased trees’ branches. If only I had a camera[...]
“You psychopath! Aurora Nightingale! Stop!” [he commands. A]nd I do. I do stop. I stop and turn abruptly, and next I know, we both have a hand around the other’s neck. (Simultaneous choke holds[. L]ooking back it may just be the most warm and fuzzy romantic moment I’ve ever [had].) It doesn’t surprise me that he has grabbed me, that in itself isn’t odd, but I have the upper hand[.] [I know that if it came down to life and death,] I would win. [I would win because] I don’t lose. The facts of life are just as simple as that. Things destroyed completely cannot be fixed, and Slayers do not lose. Those two [truths are the closest things I have to a religion].
“How do you know my name?” I [ask him], clenching my fingers slightly around his throat in a threatening manner. He looks at me with those silver eyes, in a way that says he doesn’t really care all too much what I do or what I don’t do at this point. After all, he has what he wanted. I’ve stopped. For now. He doesn’t seem to understand I could snap his neck with my fingers at this point. Or at least, if he does know, he doesn’t care. Suicidal imbecile. Well, it wouldn’t be the first [time] a suicidal person has approached me[.]
“You’re my trainer[," h]e says stiffly. He says trainer like it’s a swear word. Dirty and [venomous on] his tongue. I’m not [x] sure I like where this is going either, or what the word “[t]rainer” entails coming from this young man. I trained for years to become a slayer, but am I a demon hunting trainer? Hell no. I’m not a teacher. Megan and I agreed a while ago that if I were a teacher all of my [students] would be dead or crying after the first fifteen minutes[.] [x] Even at the chapel, Megan and I were never allowed to watch the children. People don’t trust slayers with children, [and] for good reason[x][.] [Still, w]e were at the chapel. Only a monster would do something at the chapel. (The Chapel is like the church of Muortum. Every district has one, but the Chapel is an odd sort of church, twisted to our world. We learn of our own world’s history and our own ruler/god. You’ll never find a more devoted chapel attendee than a Slayer.)
“What the hell are you talking about[x]?” I narrow my eye[. The stranger] is looking more and more irritated with me[, l]ike I should just drop all suspicions and just believe everything he has to say. Sorry Sir, but I wasn’t trained like that.
“God, were you the one in Antarctica? Geez, just my luck. To get the worst Slayer out there.
[x]
“Let’s get something straight. I am not from Antarctica, nor have I ever had the pleasure of visiting it. I am perfectly capable of maiming you for life. So you had better start explaining before I find a mountain to throw you down, am I clear?”
“Crystal.” He glares at me, I feel like the words ‘Frigid B***h’ are forming on his lips. [x]
“Then explain[," I say. "]Before I lose my patience with you.” [x]
“Did you not get the memo? Slayers are of a dying breed, I’m sure you’ve noticed that at the very least. Nobody wants to be a Slayer anymore. But I bet you didn’t notice that Hunters are dying early, and in larger numbers[x].”
“Why should I care? They are not of my branch. They made the wrong choice. It’s none of my business nor is it any of my concern.” [I throw him] into the snow [x] in [x] a motion that tears his hand from my throat and slams his back against the frozen earth with a loud ‘poomf!’ [Snow flies]. As he gasps to regain [his breath], I set my heeled boot steadily on top of him, the six inch black stiletto digging into his abdomen[x].
“You still haven’t answered my question. How. Do. You. Know. My. Name?” I give him my famous one eyed glare.
“In order to help stop this trend, Slayers are being brought to the first district, alongside hunters, and paired together. Slayers are the trainers, they’re supposed to help prepare hunters- preferably in a non painful manner… [And lucky you, you're] my Trainer.”
“Hm.” I laugh slightly, a quick short laugh behind closed lips. “You said ‘preferably’. And too bad for you, [that's how I teach. It] will not be painless.” I dig my heel deeper into his abdomen for a moment, just far enough to ensure it’ll leave a bruise, before I take a step back and pull him up by his arm. I’m surprised to find he has a fairly good set of muscles underneath his loose black shirt. And since I trampled him so easily, I know exactly what we’re going to have to work on. This could be the most fun I’ve had in years[.]
“You lack finesse[,]” I tell him[.]
“What? You haven’t even seen me in action yet!” he protests.
“I’ve seen plenty. I don’t need a long and drawn out exhibition from you. I can tell from just this encounter. You’re strong, yes, but anyone can be strong. You bank on that to give you the upper hand. And hence, you just had your a*s handed to you.” I flip my dark hair over my shoulder, and for the first time he sees the eyepatch that was hidden beneath my long bangs. He eyes it for a long moment, before looking away.
“I don’t think I like you[,]” he grumbles bitterly, because he knows I am right.
“The feeling is mutual.” [x]
The feeling is mutual. Everyone wants to have their feelings returned, even a person who only hates, they want someone to hate them back, so they can have a satisfying fight. But mutual feelings, in the end, only cause more trouble than they are worth. I learned this the hard way, In these years, it would turn out, that I learned a lot of things ‘The hard way[.']
I thought I liked ‘The Hard Way’, turns out, sometimes[...] it hurts.
And sometimes, hurt isn't a good thing.
- - - - -
I'm stopping there for tonight, but tomorrow I'll get to the last chapter. I'll give you my final thoughts then, but I'll say right now that I like this so far.
No offense to you or anything- but you may want to rethink your way of reviewing o.o especially on a website where points are determined by characters, copy and pasting kind of seems cheaty. I know the piece has to be edited, it's a first write, and certainly not perfect.
I really don't care about points. It cuts off at 100 anyway. If I just wanted points, it would be a lot less work for me to write a long-winded empty review than spend two hours editing a story. I just like editing. If it bothers you though, I'd be happy to send you the points I got from this review.
I know it's a first write, I just try to be as helpful as possible. Don't be mistaken -- it's very, very good, especially for a first draft. Most of my writing looks a LOT worse than this after I've gone after it with a red pen. In the end I'm just a person, and you don't have to listen to a word I say. I'm sorry if I seemed cruel at all, that was not my intention.