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I got lost…

… but I am trying to find my way back.

I found somewhere. A place that was free. That was wondrous. That was peaceful and invigorating. A place where things come alive.

Such a place, it was.

What a place it was.

I am trying to find my way back. The Spirit has been damaged too deep, but you must move on. Must keep going, keep searching. I will find my way back, at the end of the road. I will come back home.

I am tired, and torn. I just need to rest. And then tomorrow I will pick up my shield once more.

Like a drug, keep moving. Like a drug, keep chasing.

Nothing else can compare. Nothing else will do. So sweetly it taints the rest.

I am lost.

But I am trying to find my way back.

-MM-

Trigger

The sharp air fills my lungs, and my heart jumps to attention. The thrill pumps through my veins, electrifying my skin, the tips of every corner and curve and end of my body tingle in terrified exhilaration.

‘No!’ I scream inside my head because the words won’t leave my tongue – but too late; it’s already done.

I feel my body giving in to them, I cannot stop it, and soon my mind will be swept away as well. The tears come, hot and heavy. They sting my gaping, parched eyes.

The memories stir. The world fades away from my blurred sight and the monsters creep from the shadows. I try to remember what to do, but they swallow me whole. The world is gone. I am gone. There is nothing but the memory, the pain, the fear and torment. I scream, but it does not chase them away. Still, they come.

My body shudders under the strain of their burden. I don’t want to see them anymore, I don’t want to remember. I huddle in the darkness they brew and try to hide, small and insignificant – like nothing they would waste such time with, but still, they come. My sobs come in silent, shallow gulps and the heaves turn and knot my stomach. Already, the bitter sting of bile rises in my throat.

The realization washes over me: There is no running. There is no hiding. And something lulls me in knowing this. A slow calm sets into my bones. This is it. It is over – but I know it will not end unless I turn around.

Weak and shaky, I stand to face them. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. I train my lips into the tight little O, and the breaths come, fast at first. I take in another, fighting off the mucus my tears have churned up in my sinuses, but I manage through the fight. Out again. Oooooo. Slow, steady, long.
I close my eyes, focus on my breathing. In. Steady, hold. Out, easy, free…
My feet shuffle in controlled movements, turning me to face them, one breath at a time. The pain subsides. My skin begins to soothe, muscles relax, and my stomach unties itself. The burning, prickling sensation evaporates.
In.
Steady.
Out.
Calm.
My mind escapes the fog. I start to remember – more than just the monsters. I remember after. I remember now. I am ready.
I open my eyes to face them.

Shadows dance across my bedroom floor. The moon hangs high, and sky is crystal clear. The air is cold and still. A cold sweat hangs dewy over my body. My shirt clings to my skin, the hair matted to the nape of my neck and face. I stare about, confused, but familiar. I unclench from the knotted covers, stretching my hand and wriggling my fingers. I blink away the last hazy images, trying to reorient myself.
It is over.
Relief.
I made it out. I ended it.
Little Victories, Dr. Meade would say. And I smile, little and weak. But better than yesterday.

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A Review: Court of Fives by Kate Elliott

Court of Fives (Court of Fives, #1)Court of Fives by Kate Elliott
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I have to say I was pleasantly surprised by this book. Not because I should have been surprised, but because of the rollercoaster this book threw me into.

Initially I was intrigued, as it continued on I was really, really unhappy. I even considered not finishing it – like so many other reviewers had done, at the exact same point as well. I’m glad I didn’t. We were all played – we all fell into the pit that I believe Ms. Elliott 100% intended to throw us into.
I didn’t like the father, I was unsure about Jessamy. I felt like there was not enough build up or explanation for the horror that this obnoxious Lord threw them into – he irritated me profusely, but I couldn’t really tell you why because there was not enough of anything to form a proper explanation – there was too much build up on the mother and the sisters for them to just be forgotten so suddenly and quickly, this new little Prince dude was way too predictable. But there is a beauty and an ease that Kate Elliott has in her writing, the sincerity and believability in the characters and how they interact with each other that is so simple and charming, and feels so real, that I just couldn’t give up on it. And as I continued, not that much further into my frustration did I realize that I was feeling exactly how I should be feeling. Everything was intentionally constructed in such a way that as soon as you crest that barrier of unknown and too little and too much all wrapped up into one – that you are hooked. Pieces start filing together, a little snippet of information here that makes your brain catch a spark of what is really happening – and you can see more coming, little reprieves of insight into Jessamy and her family that makes you understand the characters more. Suddenly, I sympathized with her. Suddenly, I didn’t hate the father anymore. Suddenly, I understood the mother and sisters are in no way forgotten – that is why there was so much build up. Exactly when you think the story is unraveling and not making enough sense, is exactly when all those snags are being pulled, tightening their grip. By the time I tipped the half-way mark, I could not stop reading. And by the end, I wished there was more.
I enjoy the perspective of characters, their differences, simplicity where it needs to be simple, building complexity where there needs more answers, and above all else – how beautifully she constructs relationships. Not in the romantic sense, but in how each character interacts with one another. It makes me wonder who inspired these characters, what event in her life spawned that banter of dialogue, who did she watch play out which scenes that inspired, as I can recognize the very true-to-life aspects in each one of them which makes it easy to relate, and care about these characters.
I also apprecaite Kate Elliott’s knack for very honest internal voice that is the most natural and brilliant comic relief I’ve read – A talent that made me literally laugh out loud in Crown of Stars so many times, I’m sure my husband thought I was mad – and was found again here in Court of Fives.

At times, it does feel a bit predictable, and seems to play very heavily on YA tropes – but it is woven into her own world so beautifully, that none of them seem to bother me. She makes them work – and the mythos that she has built for the realm is simply enchanting, and the way she slowly builds upon it – only giving you little bits at a time – only makes me eager for more.

The mythos and intrigue catches me far more than any romance arc, but it so aptly balances between politics / intrigue and cultural/spiritual circumstance between the romance, that there is plenty to hold the interest of a many number of different readers – and she accomplishes in what is relatively small book. Very well done. I was pleasantly surprised, and would recommend this book to those who enjoy Fantasy & YA alike.

View all my reviews

Here’s my problem with ‘strong female leads’…

A phenomona that should be dubbed “the Tauriel Effect”

Even though she wasn’t precisely a lead – I’m still Angry, PJ, dammit.

It’s a forced topic. Everyone now has become so preoccupied with the issue, they forget one of the most important parts of stroy telling: character developement. Or, good character developement, I should say. 

My biggest issue: They are fake. They feel so unnaturally forced and overdone that it makes me instinctively hate them – which is kind of counter-productive to the entire point of the “movement”. And I mean that in the very loaded sense of “trend”. It is now the -thing- to push all types of media/entertainment to be concerned, and include, with diversity, gender rols issues and including the “strong female lead” trope that many authors, I feel, fluffing their work with. Extraneous characters that they don’t truely believe in, that they are building on a basis of necessity to include, rather than organically developing the appropriate characters the story needs.

I am currently reading Mage’s Blood by David Hair, and though I have just started, I am already annoyed. I can’t tell if I like it. I’m not sold, but I also cannot simply abandon it, and it is frustrating because I can’t help but wonder if I would be so torn if it weren’t for this Elena character.

If there is a perfect example of a character being forced into the “strong femal lead” role, this is it … well, I’m sure many others, but this is the one slapping me in the face right now, and I’d love to send it flying across the room – but it is that gnat that nags and hovers in your face, but dodges your hit every time you try to smack it away.

Let me tell you, I am so ticked at this gnat right now, I’m about to whip out the fogger.

From the second we learn about this character, it is forced down your throat how much of a bad-ass she is. Beginning from how Gyle insistantly introduces her to Saint Lucia:

                   “ “Will this woman kill the children, Magister Gyler?”

                   “She’s a heartless bitch, if you will excuse the term, Holiness.” There, Elena, I’ve made your name known to the Empress-Mother, in the best way possible. Fame at last!” “

To how it is pushed, every, other, grueling line, how she struggles to push away her maternal instincts, and thwart-off the interests/praises of the men, to how she pushes herself in training when we, at last, get to actually meet her. It’s redundantly shoved in your face: Look at me, I’m a badass, I am tough, look how tought I am, I don’t need men, look, I am a badass! Am I a badass yet?

What a cunt! I am so thrilled! 

And even though I recognize that those previous quoted lines are written with a hint of cynicism, it is accepted as noteworthy and even impressive!

                   “ Lucia smiled gleefully. “Excellent! I like her alredy -” “

So, apparently, in order to be strong, and a badass, you must be a cunt. Awesome. Can’t imagine why type of shit is so exhausting to read…

But they don’t need to be so forced. Saint Lucia herself is an unbelievable badass, already, in just a few pages – and it happens all so easily and naturally, without thought or question. But, what a shocker, she is also a cunt!

But the evil-strong have always been easy. And yes, we do love them – as is epitomized by Cersei Lannister and how we drool over her, we love to hate her and for some sadistic reason (that says more about us than Martin’s writing talents) we STILL route for her. And the fact that this, already sinister, Saint Lucia is on the team we’re supposed to be routing for. So yes, we do love them…

But is that it? Do we get no sane, not-evil, stron ladies that don’t seem ungodly forced and pre-built awfulness? Because that’s all we’re going to get so long as people feel the need to include such characters for the sake of pop-culture demand and worry of back-lash.

And that shouldn’t be.

Stories and story-tellers should not be dictated what to write and when and about who and how – that isn’t what makes memorable, or meaningful tales or characters. That kills it – that kills all the magic and stifles muses. 

I have no idea if that is how Hair felt as he was writing this book – but that is certaintly of it feels, and is is incredibly off-putting.

I write to tell a story. I don’t take the time to go through the checklist of diversity to make sure I’ve inlcuded the “appropriate” amount of women-to-men ratio, or gays-to-straights, or minorities-to-nonminorities. I just tell the story. That’s it. I put in exactly the amount of WHATEVER characters the story needs. And that’s it. I let the story tell me what it needs and where – Not societal demands and politics. 

Progressions – snippets from ‘The Stray Chronicles’

snippets from Strays

an excerpt from latest revisions – Chapter 17

 

The tension in the room was suffocating. Ambrogue and Kai stood defensively in the corner, on guard. Balahir shrunk away in the doorframe, but couldn’t stop watching. Archabiya had dried her tears in the corner. Everyone was at attention, but couldn’t move.

Gryph made for the door, but Merryck and Balahir stood in the way.

“Wait!” Merryck pleaded. Gryph didn’t want to look at him.

“Please,” Dahgmar bent to pick up the medallion, “This is a horrid misunderst –”

“Stop!” Gryph cut, his grip on everything beginning to slip, “I won’t be a part of this!” He turned back to Avior, “This is what the Order has become? You disgrace it; you disgrace everything we fought for. I won’t help you – and I won’t let you take her.” Angry tears welled in his eyes, and he stormed away.

Archabiya stood, horrified, but Avior stopped her in her tracks.

“Don’t. Let him go – give him time. We’ll straighten this all out in time, just, let him have some time…”

 

 

Amin Rove

Deep in the forest of Ironbirck Grove, 

Lived a small faery named Amin Rove.

She lived off the fruit of the Orange Blossom trees

And she made all her friends of the birds, and the bees

She was innocent and free, and her heart – it was wild

But her touch was gentle and he temper quite mild

She guarded the forests, its lands and its creatures

Tended its growth, and cultured its features

It was a great sorrow, she met an early grave

Though try as they might, none could save

No matter how far her body may be

Her heart lives on in Ironbirck’s trees

So next time you’re walking with Jackson, or Kotch

Remember, Amin Rove is keeping her watch.

New Faces for Old Gods – PaganSquare – PaganSquare – Join the conversation!

New Faces for Old Gods – PaganSquare – PaganSquare – Join the conversation!