Project: --
Well, I think the SAO muses just wore themselves out. :-P Which is cool, and a nap is well-deserved. I'm still sorting out what to do with them, anyway.
Tonight I jumped back into my oft-neglected RP group, and I am pleased!
Well, the next thing K'ran knew, the planet was convulsing. That was
new. And entirely unwelcome.
Disregarding riding straps and related safety equipment entirely,
K'ran bolted out of the weyr, his legs shaking and balance shot like a
first time drinker's. Icith was standing precariously on the ledge,
wings extended for balance, and the bright red of his eyes stood in
stark contrast to his dark blue hide. ((Up up UP!)) He ordered, panic
giving his usually dry voice a higher and almost squeaky timbre
comparable to a pubescent boy. Normally, K'ran would have teased him
for it. Normally, one's place of residence was not trying to squish
one like a trundlebug.
As K'ran scrambled clumsily onto Icith's taut back, missing footholds
and sweaty hands slipping like he had never ridden before, he morbidly
recognized that like trundlebugs, squished humans would start to smell
too.
Finally he was aboard, or at least aboard enough for Icith, and Icith
bounced off the shaking ledge. It was a sloppy ascent and only K'ran's
riding experience kept him from falling off. He secured himself, legs
clamped on for dear life, and looked down at the mayhem below. Only
three words wandered around his head:
This is baaaaad.
Icith went higher and higher, as if the more distance between him and
the earth the better. The Coral Blaze wing was hovering, some swooping
down to aid the dragonless. Icith had no intention of joining them,
and besides, K'ran lacked a harness. Rescue maneuvers were not
advised.
Eventually, though, the planet quit attacking and everything stilled,
relatively. People still tore around like decapitated fowl and screams
and chaos and death and keening echoed around the ruined Weyr like the
worst dissonant harper melody K'ran had ever heard, and he shivered.
He never wanted to hear what they'd write about this one. Ever.
Anything they could compose would always be played against the
backdrop of the Moment After, branded forever in his head with thick
black outlines and a scarily narrowed mental focus that for some
reason sounded like shrieking scraping metal.
I'm really experimenting with longer, controlled run-on sentences during action instead of those short staccato fragments. Diction and placement is critically important and I was really conscious of that while writing. I do love my similes/metaphors/sensory descriptions. That's something I've been focusing on lately, and I think the effort's paid off.
Not sure I'll write anything original tonight. SAO's sleepy and while Ambi's stirring, that's about all the action. Re- was a flash in the pan and I knew it, so I'm okay with that.
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