Life, Ice Story
Jan. 30th, 2005 05:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
farlaMy seeds are sprouting! I planted seven pomegranate seeds back before Christmas, and two have come up. My brother's the one who noticed actually, I had almost given up on it. Anyway, the plastic wrap's been removed and they've been moved to the window, so now they've straightened up. The larger one is starting to open up its false leaves.
My goldfish are growing too. We moved the big one to the tank at the school and so the other four have more room now. They're really friendly and perky.
And the praying mantis is currently laying her fourth egg case. She's been at it for a couple hours now. ::sigh:: What an incredible waste of resources. She's going to be exhausted for weeks after this, if it doesn't finally kill her.
Anyway, I've been working on Ice. Up to page twelve now (which makes it sixteen pages of total writing counting other bits). I've figured out two things I was having trouble with, her eyesight and a store's shoplifting precautions.
I'm uncertain about another scene, though, as I'm not quite sure if her actions are understandable and consistent there.
The trainer picked up the sound of someone nearby. The person was speaking, probably, by the pattern and tone she could pick up, swearing quietly. She couldn't make out words.
They were in a forest. There were green leafy plants covering the ground, bigger than her in most places, as well as fat-trunked trees with low branches. So it would be easy to run away and hide, and she'd be able to hear anyone chasing her.
She was pretty far from the towns and cities. The money she'd gotten had been enough to last a while, and she was curious. She'd gone this way because she wanted to see something different. She hadn't seen any sign of other people for days. Even if this one was dangerous, at least, it would only be one. She started toward the sound, smelling blood, perhaps a few hours old.
She found a boy, one who looked like he was sixteen or so, dangerously old. One leg was stuck out in front of him, the lower half reddish-brown.
The trainer guessed the boy couldn't move. Safe. It didn't matter if he saw her or not if he couldn't reach her. She slid partway out of the greenery to get a better look.
"Hey!" he said, whipping his head around to stare at her directly. "Hey, kid!"
Kid…
The child returned his stare silently, waiting.
"Yeesh, kenya talk?"
She nodded.
"Great. Quit standing around and get over here and help me!"
Uncertainly, the child shook her head. She wasn't getting close enough for him to grab her.
The boy cursed again, meaninglessly. "Look. Kid, I'm not going to hurt you. I just need you to help me out, kay? Look, it's going to rain soon. You wouldn't want to be stuck out in the rain, right?" He seemed to be waiting for a response, so she nodded slightly. "Well, I don't either. But my leg's broken and I can't move. So you've got to help me with this."
She looked at him blankly. This was something new. She sat. "Your leg's broken?" she repeated.
"Yes!" he barked, the sound tense and interesting.
"Doesn't look broken," she told him. She had seen broken things.
His teeth pressed tightly together, the lips drawn back. After a few seconds he said, "The bone's broken."
The child understood bone as well. "Okay," she said, voice amicable.
He swore again, sounding frantic and…something.
There was silence for a moment.
He sighed. "Look," he said again. "I passed a cave a little while back. It's not that far."
"How did your leg break?" she asked. She knew that if something was hurt, it usually meant there was something dangerous to her nearby. She wanted to know what that was. She was also curious – she hadn't seen something hurt like that before.
He didn't speak again for a moment. "Help me get to the cave and I'll tell you." She didn't respond. "Kid!" he said, his voice sharp and high. "Pay attention!"
"Paying attention," she told him.
"If you – okay, listen." He looked around. "See that over there?" he asked, pointing awkwardly. She looked. "That big stick. Get it and pull it over."
The child was still used to doing what people told her. She grabbed it and dragged it back. When she got closer to him, she let go and pushed it the rest of the way. His hand clutched at it the instant it came into range, as if he thought she might change her mind.
The child scrambled back, knowing he could reach further now.
He tried to stand up. Or the child assumed that was what he was trying to do – at any rate, it wasn't much, just pushing on his hands to raise himself and inch or so, then his arms shook, then gave, and he dropped back down with a soft thump against the leaf litter.
"Damn." He looked back to her. "Come on kid, I really need your help here."
She waited.
"I need you to help me up. Okay?"
"Okay," she agreed. She understood.
"So come here!" he yelled, voice tight.
The child considered. She was curious. His arms had shook and twisted, so he wasn't that strong. But…
She backed up, out of sight. She heard the boy yell, his voice high and strained. The child opened one pokeball. "Boy," she whispered, pointing. "Asked me something you watch okay?"
The sneasel made an agreeing twitch of her ear-feathers.
The child stepped back into the open space. The boy's face changed from one thing to another, but she couldn't tell what.
"Okay," she told him. "I'll help you." She walked up to him, feeling herself in front of her with a heavy arm pushing down on her shoulders for an instant, so she was prepared when he pulled on her to stand and leaned while he tried to balance with the oversized stick.
.
"How did your leg break?" the child asked.
The boy stared at her. His eyes were brown, a shade lighter than the dirt of the floor. He was sitting on the floor of what he'd called a cave. The child didn't think it was. It was a place where there was a rock hanging over the ground with space between the two. She was crouched at the edge, far enough away from him. She didn't really like how he was looking at her, but as long as he couldn't move, she thought it was okay.
He ignored her question. "What's a kid like you doing here?" he said, after a moment. "Are you a trainer?" She wasn't sure what to answer. What did he want her to be? "No," he decided, "you're too young – besides, the way you're acting – you have family around here?"
She didn't answer, and he sighed and looked away.
"How did your leg break?" the child asked.
"Look, what does it – fine. I got attacked by a bunch of rockets and they stole my pokemon, happy?" he snapped.
The child did not really understand this, and there was something buzzing and half-untrue in the boy's words. But she understood he meant people, who she thought she could avoid and she remembered the name referred to people who left quick, so she thought they wouldn't still be near there. Not that much of a danger to her.
The boy explained he'd lost his bag. It would be somewhere around where he'd been. If she could get his phone, he'd be able to call for help. The child considered and agreed to do this.
The bag she found was a backpack, with one strap broken. It was a faded black color and big, too big for her to be able to carry – the bottom would still be on the ground when she put the straps over her shoulders. The ground in front of it was trampled once, someone running but no one following. She examined it. There were no pokeballs inside, but there was some money, which she transferred to her own bag, some food – she took the dried meat, tearing at it as she went back – and a gadget that looked like ones she'd seen other children talking into. That she took back to the boy, wanting to see what he would do.
Then, when he pressed buttons and talked into it and weird voices appeared with static behind them, like she'd heard in the cities and towns before her, she left.
So that was what they were for, she thought. Or were for sometimes. She hadn't understood how they could be useful when they never seemed to be when she'd seen them before.
The child wasn't interested in what was happening now. The boy had talked and people had said they would come, so she didn't need to wait to see what would happen, and she didn't want to be there when more people appeared anyway. The boy's attention had been threatening enough, she didn't want to have that from mobile adults.
So, while you can still mention typos and other mistakes I've missed, I'm mainly interested in your thoughts on the characterization.
My goldfish are growing too. We moved the big one to the tank at the school and so the other four have more room now. They're really friendly and perky.
And the praying mantis is currently laying her fourth egg case. She's been at it for a couple hours now. ::sigh:: What an incredible waste of resources. She's going to be exhausted for weeks after this, if it doesn't finally kill her.
Anyway, I've been working on Ice. Up to page twelve now (which makes it sixteen pages of total writing counting other bits). I've figured out two things I was having trouble with, her eyesight and a store's shoplifting precautions.
I'm uncertain about another scene, though, as I'm not quite sure if her actions are understandable and consistent there.
The trainer picked up the sound of someone nearby. The person was speaking, probably, by the pattern and tone she could pick up, swearing quietly. She couldn't make out words.
They were in a forest. There were green leafy plants covering the ground, bigger than her in most places, as well as fat-trunked trees with low branches. So it would be easy to run away and hide, and she'd be able to hear anyone chasing her.
She was pretty far from the towns and cities. The money she'd gotten had been enough to last a while, and she was curious. She'd gone this way because she wanted to see something different. She hadn't seen any sign of other people for days. Even if this one was dangerous, at least, it would only be one. She started toward the sound, smelling blood, perhaps a few hours old.
She found a boy, one who looked like he was sixteen or so, dangerously old. One leg was stuck out in front of him, the lower half reddish-brown.
The trainer guessed the boy couldn't move. Safe. It didn't matter if he saw her or not if he couldn't reach her. She slid partway out of the greenery to get a better look.
"Hey!" he said, whipping his head around to stare at her directly. "Hey, kid!"
Kid…
The child returned his stare silently, waiting.
"Yeesh, kenya talk?"
She nodded.
"Great. Quit standing around and get over here and help me!"
Uncertainly, the child shook her head. She wasn't getting close enough for him to grab her.
The boy cursed again, meaninglessly. "Look. Kid, I'm not going to hurt you. I just need you to help me out, kay? Look, it's going to rain soon. You wouldn't want to be stuck out in the rain, right?" He seemed to be waiting for a response, so she nodded slightly. "Well, I don't either. But my leg's broken and I can't move. So you've got to help me with this."
She looked at him blankly. This was something new. She sat. "Your leg's broken?" she repeated.
"Yes!" he barked, the sound tense and interesting.
"Doesn't look broken," she told him. She had seen broken things.
His teeth pressed tightly together, the lips drawn back. After a few seconds he said, "The bone's broken."
The child understood bone as well. "Okay," she said, voice amicable.
He swore again, sounding frantic and…something.
There was silence for a moment.
He sighed. "Look," he said again. "I passed a cave a little while back. It's not that far."
"How did your leg break?" she asked. She knew that if something was hurt, it usually meant there was something dangerous to her nearby. She wanted to know what that was. She was also curious – she hadn't seen something hurt like that before.
He didn't speak again for a moment. "Help me get to the cave and I'll tell you." She didn't respond. "Kid!" he said, his voice sharp and high. "Pay attention!"
"Paying attention," she told him.
"If you – okay, listen." He looked around. "See that over there?" he asked, pointing awkwardly. She looked. "That big stick. Get it and pull it over."
The child was still used to doing what people told her. She grabbed it and dragged it back. When she got closer to him, she let go and pushed it the rest of the way. His hand clutched at it the instant it came into range, as if he thought she might change her mind.
The child scrambled back, knowing he could reach further now.
He tried to stand up. Or the child assumed that was what he was trying to do – at any rate, it wasn't much, just pushing on his hands to raise himself and inch or so, then his arms shook, then gave, and he dropped back down with a soft thump against the leaf litter.
"Damn." He looked back to her. "Come on kid, I really need your help here."
She waited.
"I need you to help me up. Okay?"
"Okay," she agreed. She understood.
"So come here!" he yelled, voice tight.
The child considered. She was curious. His arms had shook and twisted, so he wasn't that strong. But…
She backed up, out of sight. She heard the boy yell, his voice high and strained. The child opened one pokeball. "Boy," she whispered, pointing. "Asked me something you watch okay?"
The sneasel made an agreeing twitch of her ear-feathers.
The child stepped back into the open space. The boy's face changed from one thing to another, but she couldn't tell what.
"Okay," she told him. "I'll help you." She walked up to him, feeling herself in front of her with a heavy arm pushing down on her shoulders for an instant, so she was prepared when he pulled on her to stand and leaned while he tried to balance with the oversized stick.
.
"How did your leg break?" the child asked.
The boy stared at her. His eyes were brown, a shade lighter than the dirt of the floor. He was sitting on the floor of what he'd called a cave. The child didn't think it was. It was a place where there was a rock hanging over the ground with space between the two. She was crouched at the edge, far enough away from him. She didn't really like how he was looking at her, but as long as he couldn't move, she thought it was okay.
He ignored her question. "What's a kid like you doing here?" he said, after a moment. "Are you a trainer?" She wasn't sure what to answer. What did he want her to be? "No," he decided, "you're too young – besides, the way you're acting – you have family around here?"
She didn't answer, and he sighed and looked away.
"How did your leg break?" the child asked.
"Look, what does it – fine. I got attacked by a bunch of rockets and they stole my pokemon, happy?" he snapped.
The child did not really understand this, and there was something buzzing and half-untrue in the boy's words. But she understood he meant people, who she thought she could avoid and she remembered the name referred to people who left quick, so she thought they wouldn't still be near there. Not that much of a danger to her.
The boy explained he'd lost his bag. It would be somewhere around where he'd been. If she could get his phone, he'd be able to call for help. The child considered and agreed to do this.
The bag she found was a backpack, with one strap broken. It was a faded black color and big, too big for her to be able to carry – the bottom would still be on the ground when she put the straps over her shoulders. The ground in front of it was trampled once, someone running but no one following. She examined it. There were no pokeballs inside, but there was some money, which she transferred to her own bag, some food – she took the dried meat, tearing at it as she went back – and a gadget that looked like ones she'd seen other children talking into. That she took back to the boy, wanting to see what he would do.
Then, when he pressed buttons and talked into it and weird voices appeared with static behind them, like she'd heard in the cities and towns before her, she left.
So that was what they were for, she thought. Or were for sometimes. She hadn't understood how they could be useful when they never seemed to be when she'd seen them before.
The child wasn't interested in what was happening now. The boy had talked and people had said they would come, so she didn't need to wait to see what would happen, and she didn't want to be there when more people appeared anyway. The boy's attention had been threatening enough, she didn't want to have that from mobile adults.
So, while you can still mention typos and other mistakes I've missed, I'm mainly interested in your thoughts on the characterization.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-01-31 02:16 am (UTC)She walked up to him, feeling herself in front of her with a heavy arm...
I think that "her" is supposed to be a him; just mentioning it 'cause it confused me for a few seconds.
Anyway... characterization seems all right, I can't really see any inconsistencies at the moment.
no subject
Date: 2005-01-31 02:36 am (UTC)It actually is meant to be a her and confusing. (The ever-present problem with this story seems to be how far can something that's meant to be confusing go before it's bad-writing confusing?) Basically, she's feeling herself supporting his weight a few seconds or so before it happens. That self would be slightly in front of her, since she's still moving into position when she reports this.
Yes, it's confusing. I'll see if I can make it clearer in the story. It's either some sort of screwy precognition or just a really, really good guess of what's about to happen. I'm not really sure which. The same sort of thing happened in chapter four when she decided again trying to run past the adult following her.
no subject
Date: 2005-01-31 05:13 am (UTC)And yeah, I've got a couple of bamboo plants in my room, so I have to keep the door closed at all times... one of the plants was savaged repeatedly over a couple of days once they figured out about it. Poor thing... T.T
no subject
Date: 2005-02-02 10:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-02-03 02:58 am (UTC)