View Full Version : The Heart, A Lonely Healer (Closed)
The Heart, A Lonely Healer (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NYuVePd-fFs&feature=related)
2617
Closed to Cucuio.
A feline spout of radiance
Cascades through diamond shine,
A turgid hint of something sunny
Penetrates the borderline.
A dainty spray of golden wave,
Strolls across my Avalon’s floor,
I feel the warmth upon the breast
Form a rainbow on the tor.
I feel the dust rise beneath me,
To fit the sun day wave,
I stand to greet the waking morn,
With a roar like a callous brave.
Cydney Oliver.
Ruby Winchester was nervous, and when Ruby Winchester was nervous, she was a wicked woman. She twiddled her thumbs whilst she waited, sat on an oak chair, for her charge to arrive. Why she had agreed to take to teaching during her stay at the Istien University of Raiaera, she had no clue, and yet here she was. She wore a red dress, as she ever did; a slender number with gold accents and a long trail. Her hair was tied back, quite out of character, but suited to the proactive Turlin School of spell singing. Her lips were pursed, deep in contemplation, wonderment, and of course, curiosity.
“Come on, my dear, you don’t want to scare her away,” she mused to herself. She uncrossed her legs and doubled her vigil over the mahogany door frame that closed off the distant corridor that ran along the northern ward of the University.
She was sat in a small rectangular chamber, lined with a jigsaw of different coloured rugs and furs. There was no ornamentation on the walls, and nothing in the room except her chair, herself, and a sense of impending lectureship that would come with a monotonous repetition of the same old, withered, and tired points. The elves of Raiaera, it seemed, were very keen on a meagre approach to rehearsal. Ruby made note, and vowed to take what she learned here back to the city she was born in. The elves had a lot to teach the so called ‘bards’ of the island of Scara Brae.
“Mistress Winchester?” a shy elf enquired as he shuffled into view through the open door.
Ruby sighed, “Yes, that is me. What can I do to help?” she raised an eyebrow. Her chair was set thirty or so feet into the hundred feet deep gallery room. The elf, though old and wise, appeared frightened of the human. Ruby enjoyed every moment of it.
“The Lady Zenira is here for her tuition.” Ruby took a moment before she nodded, and pursed her lips. From the accent, name, and tone, she presumed her pupil was going to be another high elf. They were a difficult people to teach, but more because they did not respect her for her race than any lack of academic ambition.
“Okay, send her in.” She rose from her seat. Whilst he shuffled back out into the corridor and made a show of waving in the Lady Winchester’s charge, she dusted herself down and cleared her throat. She was in for a lively afternoon of educating another young, lost soul in the wake of the Corpse War about the healing powers of the voice.
“The lesson will begin now, Lady Zenira,” the steward mouthed. He stepped aside, and waved the mysterious woman in.
Ruby tapped her foot on a fine example of spider silk weave, and waited to see what today, her loneliness, and all the fate and destiny of the shattered land of Raiaera could throw at her.
Zenira stood quietly in the hallway as the other elf walked into the room to introduce her. She stood straighter as she looked down at her tunic, her hands slowly moving to straighten it before going to tug at the cloak she had refused to give up upon entering the building. Her curly black hair fell down into her face as she watched her hands twist the cloak. Frustrated, she shoved it back out of her face and behind her pointed ears, wishing again that she had put it up like she normally did.
Zenira took a deep breath as she heard herself introduced, her hands stilling in her cloak. She straightened herself again, releasing the cloak from her hands. As the elf walked out he mouthed to her that her lesson was beginning now. Zenira shuddered slightly, wondering if this was truly a good idea.
As she walked thru the door, Zenira spotted a human woman dressed in red. Such a lovely dress on the lady, she thought.
“Mistress Winchester, I am Lady Zenira. I have come to formally ask for your tuition,” Zenira said into the silence of the room. She offered a nod of respect to her future teacher, pushing her hair out of her face yet again when she raised her head.
Ruby admired the beauty of the awkward elf before her with a coy smile. She approached, held out her hand, and they exchanged a curtsy.
“It is a pleasure, Lady Zenira.” She ended the warm embrace with a double shake, and then stepped away. Her heels, long, extended, and far too impractical for most women clipped against the rugs. “A few things I need to say, before we begin.” Her coy smile was quickly replaced with a stern, matriarchal glare. “You have no need to call me Lady, which is for the servants of the University.” She nodded to the door, where the shaking elf had been stood just moments before.
Zenira nodded hesitantly.
“You have also no need to request tuition. The Cora'Lindstra, the high bard herself told me you were a promising pupil, a heartfelt recommendation if ever there was one.” The recommendation had come only hours ago, when Ruby had taken tea with the high elf over the new intake for the season. Keen students were finally flocking to the university in the wake of the disastrous war between the elves and the Forgotten One, Xem'Zund.
Zenira took on a mantle that was twice as coy as the servant’s. Ruby chuckled.
“Relax,” she pleaded, pressing down on nothing with her flat palms, as if to indicate that Zenira should in fact calm down. “The most important lesson I can teach to a student of the spell singing arts, is to relax.” The pleading tone of her voice seemingly hit home, as the high elf visibly thawed beneath Ruby’s glare.
“I am sorry, Ruby. I am just, nervous,” she shuffled her feet on the carpet, immaculate adjustments of her lithe form.
“As was I, three hundred years ago, when I was in your exact same position.” She smiled, and rekindled her love for spell singing by recalling the very first lesson she had been given, when she was the spell singer Liana. Though talented beyond compare, she was remarkably plain in the light of her new pupil’s radiance.
“Three hu-” she shook her head. “What do you wish me to do?” she pushed the doubt to the back of her mind, and folded her arms defiantly over her ample bosom. Whatever sways Ruby had over her when she had entered, it was clearly gone.
“I think the best thing to do to commence your instruction, is to show me a sample of what you are capable of.” Ruby retreated to her chair, pushed it back, and continued to walk away from Zenira with the wooden perch in a firm grip. She set it down a hundred or so feet from her pupil, and then turned on a quick heel. “Show me, in resplendent form, what you know of the healing arts – Turlin, the wind in the willows and the songs of the heart, that most lonely of healer!” her voice carried across the plain chamber, and incited, what Ruby hoped, would be a radiant call to arms.
Zenira eyed Ruby, it had been a long time since she’d been tested like this. Zenira wasn’t sure this was something she really wanted to do, however she knew it had to be done. She sighed softly thinking for a moment, hoping Ruby would not get irritated with her for not jumping at the obvious enthusiasm of her teacher. Instead, she quietly worked out what she needed to do. Her hands absently twisted in her cloak as she did so.
Zenira closed her eyes, blocking out the room and her teacher. She took a breath, holding it for a moment as she collected and then silenced her thoughts, finally, and released it as a soft hum. It vibrated thru her chest, her entire body held its breath to sing in that tiny soft first note. It couldn’t all come out there though, and the notes that followed got faster and faster, her attempt to release them speeding the rhythm of it all. With her eyes closed, Zanira pictured the energy inside each note, flowing thru the air, filling the room, and pushing into both their skins to offer up a boost of energy.
Her body swayed with the music as it filled her mind. Her body continued to push the sound out of her lips faster and faster, she fought the urge to release it all in one breath. The cadence and volume rose together as the energy pushed further into each of them. At the highest point, Zenira suddenly cut it off, the music echoing inside of her head still. She felt invigorated, and knew that Ruby must as well.
Her breath caught in her throat, her skin feeling on fire after the rush of energy. She kept her eyes closed at her body tried to adjust again. Zenira focused on her breathing for several long moments, her body aching for another song. Finally, she straightened her body again and opened her eyes and stared at Ruby, quietly waiting for her response. Her heartbeat filling her ears as the silence stretched.
“Radiant, Zenira, quite radiant.” Ruby smiled warmly, relaxed her stance, and held out her arms as if she were offering praise to an idol. “I felt what you felt, warmth inside, a collected sway, a fiery zeal. It is,” she cocked her head, careful not to swaddle her pupil with too much praise early on, “still not warm enough.”
Zenira wrinkled her lips, seemingly deflated by her tutor’s put down. She pointed her feet inward awkwardly, and waited further instruction. The echo of her spell song still rattled about her body, tingling up and down muscle, bone, and tendon alike. It felt warm enough to her.
“When you sing, you must not only sing. When you sing, you must believe in the words, the notes, or the simple exhalation you use to weave together your voice!” Ruby clapped, and started to spin. It was a regal, simple, and well time pirouette that meshed together with a second, third, and then a stomp of the heel as she came about to face the elf once more. “Let it lift you up, to a height that no dragon, spell, or enemy ever could.”
The spell singer took a deep breath, and took the time to tuck her long, crimson, and shimmering hair behind her stubby ears. The feathers in her hair, flashed orange, gold, and bronze in the dim light. Zenira tried to picture just how much warmth and energy she needed to conjure to make a woman seemingly born of flame feel hot.
“Try again, my dear. Do not be put off by my demand for perfection. It is born of a need to see all those who walk the path of the Turlin School become no less than masters of their own destiny. After all, to wield the power to give life to others is a responsibility that must be learnt.” She swaggered back and forth on bouncy heels, as if she were warming up for a marathon.
“Yes, Ruby, okay…” Zenira braced herself, watching the spell singer begin to circle her in a clockwise direction. She held her hands in the small of her back, nestled above a knot of orange sash that puffed the lower trails of her Scara Brae styled dress. She was being studied, from every angle, and looked at down a seemingly wiser nose than the human face that spited it.
“Whenever you are ready,” Ruby added enthusiastically, an all knowing smile creeping onto her cold expression as she began to feel that all too familiar excitement of potential.
Zenira eyed her new teacher, as she took a deep breath in. She did not want to sing again until her body stopped humming. However, her teacher demanded it. Minutes passed as they stood in silence. Zenira stubbornly waited for the humming in her bones to stop, wondering what she could possibly do for her next song.
She eyed her teacher for another moment before she closed her eyes. Inspiration hit her as she closed her eyes She took another deep breath, letting it fill her lungs and holding it for a minute before she slowly let it out. Zenira focused on her center. A song pulled from the depths of her memory, barely remembered. A song that brought bitter sweet memories. This time she did not hum, this time she let her voice carry her intentions. The words pulled themselves from her heart. The original meaning lost to her, a foreign tongue she did not know. Instead, this was a song that she recalled her mother singing to her as a child, some foreign lullaby sung to comfort her when she was scared.
Zenira pulled the song from barely remembered memories, the power surging into it pulled from her soul. Her voice rose and fell, echoing back to her in the chamber. It filled her body, and pushed at her skin, like it was trying to escape, but the only way out was thru her voice. So Zenira continued to sing, repeating the words over, remembering her mother’s gentle touch as she sang. Hearing, in the echo inside her mind, her mother’s voice singing it to her. A phantom touch on her arm as her mother held her.
The song came to a breathless, gasping end when she could no longer hold the notes. The power slipping from her grasp. Zenira’s head fell, her hair sliding forward to cover her face, as her body shook. Zenira indulged in the brief memory of her mother, before she pulled herself together to again wait for Ruby’s critique.
Ruby continued to circle Zenira as the last echoes of her song reverberated in her ribcage, off the walls, and out into the corridor beyond. She said nothing as she came about. Her lips were pursed tentatively somewhere between curiosity and dominance. If she was pleased, she made no show of it, least not yet. She stopped when she returned to where she had started, and righted herself. She stopped cocking her ear, holding her breath, and clenching her buttocks. Ruby relaxed.
“Well,” she said, “that was quite…” she smacked her lips, “something.” At the back of her mind, Ruby could not help but be reminded of her mother. It unnerved her, but she could not work out where the recollection had come from. “Tell me, how did it feel?” she turned to her chair and knelt at its front, and whilst Zenira jumped to please her tutor, the spell singer picked up one of the three books tucked under the canopy of the wooden frame.
“Splendid, Ruby, splendid, like being on fire in the summer sun!” the elf chirped. Ruby nodded expectantly as she rose and turned to face her pupil once more. She took a few steps forward to close the gap between them, before she held out the battered looking tome at arm’s length.
“Yes, yes, I am sure it did, but that is not what I asked.” She pushed it forwards, gesturing for Zenira to accept it. She did, dutifully, and took it into her hands gingerly. “I asked you how it felt.” There was warmth, a fire, and a mystery in her annunciation.
Zenira, seemingly puzzled, turned to examining the book to buy her some time. She ran her slender fingers over the ornate spine, which was bound in silver spirals and iron florets. Ruby had poured her heart and soul out over the Winterfell tome, and now, having learnt all she could from it, it was time to hand it on to the next prospective scholar. She could see her charge was, pondering, wistful, and indecisive. Once, the Lady Winchester had been exactly the same.
“I feel,” she began, “alive.”
Ruby clapped with a start, “excellent.” It was, apparently, exactly the right answer she had expected. “That is a book on operatic techniques, passed down from the Winterfell Clan of Northern Raiaera, to some unbeknownst adventurer, a book seller, and then to me. I would like you to have it, Zenira. If you are to develop in the Turlin School, you will not only need to take that sense of being alive to heart, but learn everything you can.”
“Thank you Ruby, it is marvellous!” she looked genuinely pleased, and because of it, Ruby too could not help but smile.
“Your…mother,” she hazarded a guess, realising that her sense of livelihood and energy was from some deep seated memory, “was she, close to you?”
To teach the Turlin School, to heal the world, one had to learn to heal oneself first. Ruby wanted to know why Zenira was hurting, to try and show her how she could help herself to new heights of wonder.
Zenira visibly flinched at the question. She eyed Ruby, suddenly distrustful, and tried to bring her thoughts together. They were scattered across the years now. Sinking back into her childhood. She hug the book to her chest, lost in memories.
Zenira could picture her mother’s face in her mind, clearly, like she was standing in front of her. Her laugh echoed up through her memories, briefly. She could recall her mother singing, she had sung so many songs, had wanted to teach them all to Zenira, but hadn’t been able to.
She dropped her head, and fought her breathing for several long minutes. So lost in her memories, she forgot Ruby was there. The memories she normally kept blocked away, came rushing over her. She shuddered again, and tried to shove them back to where they belonged.
Finally she looked up, only moderately surprised to see Ruby standing before her still. “My mother and I were close once. We do not, however, speak anymore,” she said quietly. Silence built up between them as Ruby waited for more. “She died,” there was another pause, “in Eluriand. So obviously, we are not so close anymore.” She finished and carefully opened the book to start reading while she stood there.
Ruby was tactful enough not to press the matter further. She pursed her lips, adjusted her dress, and gave Zenira a few moments to compose herself. The matriarch felt embarrassed enough for having considered mentioning it, without pushing into a crowd of memories where she did not belong.
“Forgive me,” she said, quite curtly, and then followed it up with a smile. “Powerful emotion is clear as day when you sing from the heart, and in your words, I felt the turbulence of your soul. That is a potent tool, Zenira.” Ruby rubbed her hands together eagerly, trying to add suggestion to her lecture that this was a positive development.
Ruby had learnt that lesson the hard way. She had been a bitter old shrew, though perhaps she still was, for so many years her true voice had been constrained, trapped, and drowned in the bile of her own stomach. It had taken revelation, acceptance, and a war to free her spirit. Ever since she had undertaken a Satyricon, her spell singing sky rocketed to new heights of wonderment. If Ruby could help Zenira overcome whatever murky pit she was trapped in, perhaps she too could learn to master the Turlin School.
She opened her mouth, took a deep breath, and belted out a chirpy little verse.
“The heart my dear’s got nought to fear, except for fear itself, The heart they say is a lonely hunter, and to hunt with your heart’s quite gay!” she began to dance, from foot to foot and heel to heel, and then she waved her arms by her sides with a curtly and horizontal fan of her splayed fingertips. The room began to warm.
“Ruby…” Zenira mouthed, looking up from the Winterfell Tome with a curious, dry, and worrisome expression. “What are you doing?” she added.
Oblivious, the spell singer began to twirl on the spot, and her long red hem began to fan out as she gained momentum. “The heart my dear’s a lonely hunter,” she continued into a second verse, her voice baritone, with falsetto trills, and her eyes aflame with a magical light. “A hunter that is never sated, for with every kill, loves, and thrills, nought but life’s placated. A heart is thus a bloodied thing, until you learn to seeeeee,” she prolonged the pre-chorus line and rose on her tip toes. Her arms rose with her, rising into swan like wings.
She dropped, slumped, and winked at the elf.
“The heart they say is a lonely healer, so sing! - heal, sing!” she clapped, “and let your woe be free.” A spiral of blue light erupted from the worn stone of the lecture hall, rising up and around Ruby’s body through the volition of the sonata. It gathered overhead, then closed in on itself, then imploded. Fairy dust, aqua and vermillion in hue drifted down over the spell singer. She crossed her hands over her front, and waited to gauge Zenira from her response.
The message to her was clear as day, at least to the red headed mistress. She only hoped she had not let herself get too carried away with the drama.
Zenira shivered as the song found it’s way thru her, and to her heart. Her heart beat faster and her breath gasped. It was such a lovely tune, she wanted to hear it again. She wanted to dance to it. Instead she fought the urge to do either of those things and focused on Ruby.
Ruby now stood in front of her, studying her. Waiting for her to do something. Zenira stared back at Ruby in response for several long moments. Finally she shook herself out of the haze the music had put her in and tried to pull her thoughts together. So much had already happened in this lesson, and she needed to think about it, but now was not the time.
“That was lovely Ruby,” she said finally, hesitation in her voice. She suspected there was more she should say, but she didn’t know what. She absently hummed the song quietly to herself, replaying it in her mind. Such a lovely song, she thought. Quickly, Zenira became lost in thoughts about the song.
She wasn’t sure how long she stood there thinking about it. Finally though, she pulled herself out of those thoughts and realized she was humming. She quickly stopped. She pulled herself up straighter, “That was truly very lovely Ruby,” she whispered. “Thank you,” she said a bit louder, “Thank you very much for such a tune.”
Ruby smiled. It was a soft, motherly, and welcoming smile. The reciprocation of her melody was not what made her happy; but the look of inner peace that appeared on Zenira’s face. The matriarch wondered what the elf had been thinking about in the awkward silence between the finale of her spell song and the eventual thanks, but she guessed they were called inner thoughts for a reason. With a click of her worn heels against the stone, she teetered back and forth, and rested her hands together in the small of her back.
“It’s quite alright, Zenira.” She cocked her head, looking the elf over with one final examination of her pupil, “I hope you take something from today and use it. It doesn’t matter if you use it to heal, or to heal others, as long as the light of the Turlin Art reattaches bone, soul, and memory, then it is happy.”
“What now?” the elf asked hesitantly. There was eagerness in her words, a zeal riddled edge that made the red head smile.
“What now? Oh, now you go to whatever lesson awaits you next. Now you take that book, my words, and begin your long, long, long road to mastering this school.” It was a less than tactful dismissal, but Ruby was too entrusted about Zenira’s ability to dive into studying the topic on her own with that curiosity to care about etiquette. “I have faith that you will do just that, no matter how long it takes.” She nodded with a heartfelt wrinkle of her lips, a burrowing glare, and a sigh.
The elf turned.
“Tell me, though, before you go…” she hung on to the woman’s words, not quite daring, but not quite turning about to face her once again.
“In this room of cracked stone, worn carpet, and threadbare silk…what did you hope to find?”
Zenira, had already started turning away towards the door, understanding a dismissal when she heard. Normally, she would have taken offense at such an abrupt dismissal. However, this time she was still humming with the inner peace she had so unexpectedly found here.
At Ruby’s question, she came to a quick stop, her body twisted half facing the door, half facing Ruby. What did I expect to find? She wondered to herself. She felt like days went by as she thought about this. Her first thought was a friend, someone she could trust after so many hadn’t been such. A shoulder she could take a moment and rest on. However, that seemed like too much to ask for. Zenira pushed such hopeful thoughts away, the glimmer of inner peace surrounding her rippling as she did so. Zenira considered what would be reasonable, yet maybe something that would allow her to contact this intriguing woman again.
Zenira straightened out her body, still half between turning away and facing. She stared at the wall considering longer still. Briefly, she considered walking out and pretending she had never heard the question, but such a thing would be rude, even by Zenira’s standards. Moreover, it would be cowardly.
What would allow me to keep contact and not seem too much? She asked herself. If nothing else came of this, Zenira knew she wanted to stay in contact, this woman was interesting.
“I don’t know....” Zenira said slowly, attempting to fill the air that seemed so heavy now. There was something about her that called to her though, an idea suddenly calling out to Zenira.
“A mentor,” she said, her voice clear and certain, “a friend,” she whispered so quietly she was certain that she wouldn’t be heard.
In a short space of time, Ruby Winchester had come to respect Zenira very much. Her erudite, shy, and cumbersome mannerisms were very fitting for someone eager to learn. She had no doubt in her calculating mind that her new pupil would flourish, develop, and learn with such speed as to shock even the quickest of comets through the night sky. The sundering power of even the high bard Nalith’s voice could not portray just how pleased the red head was with the show of talent from the elf. As a lady, however, Ruby made no show of her eagerness. Her lips remained parsed, her eyes devoid of emotion, and her arms tucked into the small of her back like a scholar overlooking a studious disciple hard at work.
“I suggest,” she began, her voice soft and unthreatening, “that you think long and hard about that reply.” If Zenira did not know, then it was up to fate, destiny, and Ruby’s firm yet guiding hand to help her to an answer. “I don’t wish to push you for declarations of fealty or wonderment, my dear, but if you are to continue to learn as quickly as you have done today, you need one thing alone.” She waited for a few moments before she continued. “You need commitment.”
The cracked and worn stone of the classroom seemed to throb beneath the weight of her final word. Even without a song to power her syllables, Ruby’s voice held sway over her little corner of Istien University. Diligence, duty, and honour bound her bodice, and a love for teaching kept her focussed and respectful of her pupil’s young mind. As Zenira continued to retreat from the rectangle chamber, Ruby dropped her hands to her sides and nodded politely. She waved her on, and waited for her to depart proper.
She had no doubt in her mind that she would see the high elf again, and soon at that. For now, however, the Lady Winchester had to prepare for her next pupil. If their previous encounter was anything to go by, the stones that held the roof aloft would be much more cracked by the time the sun set, and her temper would come affray twice as quick trying to temper the young man’s hopeless vocal chords.
Spoils:
Lecture was a trial by the University faculty before allowing Ruby to train at the college of Turlin, thus, Ruby is now a pupil of the Istien Academy.
One of the Three Winterfell Tomes is now the property of Zenira.
Zenira suddenly felt embarrassed at her misunderstanding of the question. She nodded at Ruby, "I understand," she whispered, hiding her blushing face behind her hair.Zenira quickly exited the room after being waved out by Ruby. After the door closed behind her, she leaned against the wall for a moment. Sliding down slowly. She focused on the wall digging into her back as she tried to slow her mind.
Zenira wondered at her lesson. She felt as if she had just chosen a crossroad without realizing it until she’d found herself too far down the path to turn back. It was too much to process in such a short time. She tried to pull herself together, her mind reeling.
She wasn’t sure how long she sat there until she heard someone walking towards her. The sound startled her back to reality, and she pulled herself up and wandered down the corridor away from the person walking towards her. She hoped she didn’t find anyone in these halls until she had her mind sorted. Zenira was still lost in thought, though now she thought of the odd redheaded Ruby. Such an odd lady, Zenira felt. Yet obviously she knew what she was doing. Zenira longed to have more lessons with her, somebody who pushed her like that.
Eventually Zenira forced herself to push everything out of her mind. Except Ruby’s parting words about needing commitment. This was true, she realized, she had to work more on her singing. On more than her singing. She let a deep breath, and let it out slowly, finally looking around her.
Zenira sighed as she realized that first she had to find her way back, having become lost in her wanderings, as she thought. With another sigh of frustration, Zenira finally found herself fully in reality and set off to find her way back.
It is a scarce thing on Althanas to read a thread with no emphasis on combat, but it's a rarity I greatly relish. I will mostly focus on Cucuio in this judgment, at the request of Ruby Winchester.
Plot ~ 13/30
Storytelling ~ 5/10 -
The story was very simple and sweet, but it lacked a lot of details in the grand scheme of things. In Ruby's first post, the great crusade against the undead invasion was mentioned. I was hoping to hear a few tales of it from Zenira. It would have been a great opportunity, Cucuio, for you to weave some of your character's history into her thoughts while she was under Ruby's brief tutelage. From what I read in your profile, it seems to be her motivation to learn spellsinging. Yet, you only mention your mother (as well done as it was) briefly, and never what happened to her. This didn't need to be poured out all on your teacher, merely slipped into the narrative and in thoughts Zenira has privately. Exposing a bit more of your history in your threads will help pull the reader in and really force them to empathize with the character.
And not just the far off history (i.e. her family's death at the hands of the undead), but what came near immediately before. You could have started the thread just outside Ruby's door as you did, but have her muse about the state of Raiaera at the moment. The desolation, the loss, all things she can understand from a personal perspective. And there, amongst it all, is the shining beacon of Istien University.
Setting ~ 4/10 -
Ruby's posts were the ones that really painted the scenery, but even then it felt more like the backdrop to a play than anything else. This is one of the most prominent features of Raiaera; filled with the arcane and lovely melodies, I'd expect to see some incredible things. Instead, it is the same room and occasional hallway. Despite the silken tapestries and rugs in Ruby's office, I got a feeling of emptiness from its grand scale. While understandable, as magic users seem to train here, I would have liked either more detail (for example, some of the wall hangings flying off during Ruby's diddy) or a greater impact on Zenira.
Zenira's shy and Ruby is imposing. But above that, the situation is imposing. Cucuio, try to weave the setting more into your narrative. There wasn't a lot to work with in this, I know, as Ruby did a fine job of describing it, but use your narration as a way to impact the reader with how terrifying a large, open room would be. There'd be echoes from the clicks of Ruby's heels and your own voice, and these reverberations would be intensified by the scale of the room. You could really have tied the setting into Zenira's journey. Reserved, disquieted, and above all unsure of herself in one of the most impressive places she could have been.
Pacing ~ 4/10 -
My biggest complaint is how quickly this thread moved. A lot happened between Ruby's first thoughts behind her desk and Zenira's eventual realization in the hallway of her unsure path but bright beginning. Everything just seemed to move so fast, especially when Ruby bunnied Zenira. After each brief lesson, Zenira became more sure of herself. That should be the eventual goal, I admit, but the growth occurred within the blink of an eye.
I won't dwell on this point for too long, however. This is your first thread, and I can understand that it takes a while to really get comfortable pacing a story.
Character ~ 19/30
Communication ~ 6/10 -
The dialogue, despite its pace, was exactly what it needed to be. This was, at its heart, the story of a teacher and student. Ruby did a fair job portraying a reformed shrew with a hidden benevolence, but I would have liked more lines written by you, Cucuio. Your character had a much clearer voice in intrapersonal communication when Ruby was writing with her, but I know you'd be capable of the same if you had more opportunity for it. It was reasonable not to be terribly talkative considering the situation. But more internalized thoughts would have really helped flesh out your character more.
However, not all of communication takes places in talks and thoughts.
Action ~ 7/10 -
Cucuio, I am not afraid to say that your ability to write simple actions that strike at deeper thoughts makes me envious. This is where you excelled, and I only wish that I had the same ability when I was first starting out. As I read through your first post, I was shocked at how the simple act of Zenira keeping her cloak on (needing comfort in strange place) or tugging at her tunic (a need to be presentable for a terrifying next step) really helped to make her feel more real. Throughout the thread, you managed to plant these hidden gems of characterization, and I only wished you had used them more often. To do that, however, the thread would need to be longer, so I suppose it's really an issue with pacing. This is your strength, and I hope you use it more to your advantage in the future.
Ruby, your actions were adequate and entertaining. I especially liked dancing, because it did so much in way of making her more relatable.
Persona ~ 6/10 -
Cucuio, you did a good job portraying a character unsure of herself and a bit bashful. As I've mentioned before, a longer thread would've given you more time to explore Zenira as a character. And, at the beginning of her Althanas career, that's what you need; to explore who Zenira is. Her motivations will become much clearer when you give the reader a peek into her history, as I've also brought up.
Prose ~ 14/30
Mechanics ~ 4/10 -
Cucuio, make sure to proofread your posts. In almost all of them, “through” was spelled “thru.” As an ongoing issue, it detracted from the overall readability. In your later posts, I eyed more mistakes in grammar and a few noticeable typos. Don't be afraid to ask someone else to review your posts, either. An extra set of eyes is one of the most useful things when it comes to cementing a well-worked post. If you ever need me to, I'll be more than happy to proofread for you. Just PM me a link and any questions you have, or reach me on AIM.
Beyond simple typos, however, make sure you're not overusing the same words over and over again. It's easy to get caught up using words your comfortable with when they pop off the top of your head. Switching this up not only helps to keep things exciting, you'll find yourself in the habit of using a much wider vocabulary, which only adds depth to the things you write.
Clarity ~ 5/10 -
The thread was understandable, though not exceptionally so. I was left with a lot of questions, towards the beginning and the end, as to what Zenira was doing outside her interactions with Ruby. The hallway outside, where she collapsed (not really) to the floor after a rather exhausting use of song magic; where did she go after that? To her dorm? Another adventure? The lesson felt like an isolated incident instead of the first step down a long journey, following in the footsteps of a parent, into the fabled realm of song magic. Clarity suffered here, again, from pacing and a lack of back story fitted into the narrative of it all.
I have no doubt you'll come into your own in this soon. All you need is a bit more practice.
Technique ~ 5/10 -
Cucuio, technique, outside the description of simple but wonderful character actions, was minimal. But your description of song magic was superb. There was an almost prose-like quality to it, that just a bit of work on mechanics could have helped to improve. I hope you stick with elven magic for a while, because I've rarely seen it performed with quite as much “umph” as you did. Technique is a hard category to improve it without reading and emulating writers more, or just writing in such volumes at you can develop your own style. I have confidence enough that you'll be grow more in this area with more submitted work.
Wildcard: 6/10
Different from the standard warrior-poet posts I've used to reading, this was a refreshing, if a bit rushed and dry, story.
Total ~ 52/100
Cucuio, if you have any questions at all, feel free to contact me. And I would love to do a thread with you in the future.
Spoils:
Ruby receives 650 EXP and 80 GP, as well as becoming a pupil of The Istien University.
Cucuio receives 470 EXP and 80 GP, and the Winterfell Tome given to Zenira by Ruby.
In addition:
Ruby has received the gift of a well made, if not particularly valuable, velvet sash, colored gold. Hopefully this one won't clash with her dress, though it is not an official symbol of the university.
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