Transitions

[Seraphima]

Solo for Sara!

Warning: The biggest sort of physical conflict happening in this thread is a bunch of hooligan's trying to steal a blind woman's dog. It's not like this character can go slay dragons and orcs and stuff like that. So like most Sara threads, this is a quieter thing.

Whu-dum...whu-dum...whiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiish.

If you just listened to the sounds of the waves hitting the boat, reflected Sara, and ignored all the other sounds entirely, it must be exactly how it feels to be in the womb.

The boat rocked gently, making her little passenger's hammock sway from side to side, as though there was not really a floor less than two feet under her back. Then again...whether her eyes were open or closed, Sara couldn't see the floor beneath her...so it made pretending that she was floating very easy indeed.

A whimper from her dog and his nose, cold, soft, and slimy against her cheek, brought her back out of her daze. The blind girl couldn't help but laugh as his warm tongue dragged over and over across her face, and she could hear the swish, swish of his tail as he said, after his own manner, "good morning, time to get up and eat!"

"Yes, yes, good morning, Maurz." Sara smiled at her dog, gently pushing him away so she could sit up.

Oh no...this again...

This was the worst part of being on the ship. Even though she knew the floor was only as high up from her dog's head to his paws, the hammock refused to stop swaying and this confused the blind woman's sense of balance. The gentle back and forth and back and forth felt like hanging dizzily from the edge of a precipice and not knowing where, exactly, the edge was.

Maurizio sat on the floor nearby, wagging his tail gently. Sara could even hear the gentle huh, huh of his breath as he waited for her.

"I'm coming, Maurz," she assured her dog. "I...I..." suddenly, her slender frame was convulsed by a coughing fit. This was actually a common experience for the poor girl, weak lungs having combined with poor living to make her frequently ill.

It was a bad fit, each cough roughly shaking her body...but it wasn't that part that Sara minded so much. No...the worst part of it was that she felt like each cough was taking parts of her lungs and peeling them off of her ribs in long, wet strips. And there wasn't much she could do about it.

Even if she'd known where to find a doctor, she didn't have the money to pay for one to treat her...and what little money she came upon, she had to guard judiciously. Being blind and alone, she was an easy target for swindling merchants, and she knew it. And doctors! They were a necessary profession, to be sure, but she'd never heard of one that didn't put his own financial security over that of his patients' overall wellbeing.

When the coughing died down from a fit to the occasional weak a-kuh, Sara dared to breathe again, the air at once sweeping through her lungs like a cold and refreshing source of life, and the salt in the air burning them as a painful and present reminder of mortality.

The blind woman heard her dog whimper again, and she shook her head. "I...I'm all right, Maurz," she rasped out. She sighed. "It's getting worse."

A delicate hand with its soft skin gently explored the residue of moisture on its sister. Some mucus, some water...but no blood. It was somewhat surprising...there was never any blood, no matter how hard she coughed.

[Seraphima]

Temporarily forgetting where she was, Sara swung her legs over the side of the bed to stand up.

Or at least...that was her intent. One of her feet got trapped in a hole in the rope netting, and she struggled with it for a moment before falling forward and hitting the deck with a loud WHUD.

"Oww..."

Immediately, the whish, whish stopped, followed by ack-alat kalat tuh ackal-klat as Maurizio made his way over, nudging her gently with his muzzle.

"I'm all right, Maurz..." she struggled for a minute with the ropes that entrapped her before finally bringing her foot down to the wood of the floor, which was cracked and swollen unevenly from the years of exposure to water and damp air.

"Can you get me my walking stick, please?" The blind woman sat up, then wobbled to her feet, reaching out as her dog retrieved her cane from the wall and nudged it into her hand. She could feel the sudden, dry chill of the metal head in her hand, and the subtle warmth of its oaken shaft.

She used it to feel her way over to the little wash table in the tiny room, and when she was there she leaned the long stick against the wall to her right before putting her hands on the edges of the table and sliding them along to find where everything was.

Almost instantly, she felt her comb under her right hand, and a small towel under her left. Good... in the center was a little basin, and directly beyond it was a pitcher with some water. She grabbed the pitcher by the handle -- it was a somewhat heavy porcelain, cool and smooth to the touch, except where the sculptor had designed it to contour -- and poured some of the water into the basin.

Whuuullll...di-ploik oik ploik

Around that point she stopped pouring. As entertaining as the sound of water pouring was, a spill wouldn't do.

Quickly, she washed her face with the cool water, before running the comb through her hair. She loved her hair -- it was soft and smooth like silk, and yet it naturally made big, loopy curls that went around and around some intangible central point.

Morning toiletries done, she reached back over to her right, grabbing her cane again and turning around. Alone like this, she didn't tap her cane...she dragged it, letting it make a krrrr sound on the uneven floor as she took the two steps to the other end of the little room.

There, she reached down, grabbing her blindfold and other dress. The blindfold went tightly around her eyes -- though she could not see what her eyes looked like, she had heard the discomfort of others around her on several occasions when she had gone without her blindfold. She guessed they looked different than those of everyone else...but again, she couldn't see.

Her other dress was linen...somewhat stiffer and less comfortable than the soft cotton one she had worn the day before. She slid it on over her head, then pulled her hair out and fluffed it, before tying the dress at the back.

Finally, she could finish getting ready for the day, and she heard Maurz wag his tail again as she picked up his harness.

"Come here, boy."

He did, and in a few well-practiced moves, the dog was ready to perform his duties, with harness and lead attached. Sara hugged her dog gently. She loved the way he smelled -- like a dog, of course, but there was enough of her scent mingled in that she'd know him from any dog, any time. It was a smell she'd come to associate with companionship and security. She patted him gently, his smooth fur almost velvety beneath her hand, and then grabbed his lead before reaching back out for her cane.

"Let's get breakfast, Maurz."

[Seraphima]

A little later, after Maurz had eaten fish and potato soup (with Sara carefully removing any fish bones there might have been), and Sara had eaten a biscuit, the two stood at the side of the ship.

She was standing to the east, she knew because people still greeted each other "good morning" around her and she could feel the warm sunlight caressing her face, rather than beating on her back. The wind was coming in from the south, driving them onward -- it blew her dress and hair from her left to her right...she guessed that now they were heading north, but she could be wrong. The wind felt like soft fingers, gently brushing over her skin and playing with her hair -- lover's fingers, intangible but real. The only part of the air that detracted from the serenity of the moment was that it smelled too much like salt and pond scum -- scents of the sea, of course...but it smelled disgusting.

All around there were the sounds of people going about their business -- sometimes the gruff voice of a sailor as he did his work, sometimes the soft voice of an old man, or the shrill of a woman greeting a friend. Sometimes Sara wondered how voices got to be so different. The woman shrilling loudly not even thirty steps away had a much louder and tinnier than Sara's own dove's-hush voice.

Still...I'm glad that everyone has a different voice, she reflected gently. After all, if not for a difference in voice, how would I know who was whom?

Then, of course, there was the w'i'i'lll and k'reeee of various sea birds as they followed the ship from Scara Brae to...well...come to think of it, she still didn't know where she was going, even though she'd already been on the boat for a day. It didn't much matter, she supposed, where she was going. She just needed to start over...even if her chances for survival elsewhere had been as dismal as they'd been in Scara Brae.

[Seraphima]

The blind girl sighed softly.

"What did we get ourselves into, Maurz? Why did we even leave home?"

The "home" she was referring to had been with an elderly couple in Istraloth, who had found her in the swamps -- naked, freezing, and alone -- and had taken her in out of pure and sweet charity. They had fed and clothed her, and when the only thing she remembered was a name -- Seraphima -- they had offered to keep her with them as long as was necessary. Maurz had come a few days later, his name etched into his collar. He'd known her right away, and hadn't left her side since. She couldn't even imagine life without her dog...he was her eyes and ears, her best and only friend.

It had taken her months and months to learn how to navigate the world with her dog and a cane before she became adept at it. She supposed that there was a time in her past that she had been able to see -- but Maurz had come as a seeing-eye dog, complete with harness...so how long ago she'd had the gift of sight, and who had been with her to provide her with so special and well trained a dog, she didn't know.

When she was able to navigate, she had felt quite ready to go and explore the world on her own, and not be a further burden to her benefactors. While they had been sorry to see her go, they gave her their blessing, as well as a little money, and sent her on her way.

She'd arrived in Scara Brae, and while luck had helped her get a little room and some food, solo survival quickly became a pressing concern, rather than an adventure. The situation got even more pressing when she found it impossible to land permanent employment.

Eventually, she had been forced to leave Scara Brae city. As luck would have it, she'd found a young warrior unconscious in a ditch, and after she'd helped him recover from what had probably been heat exhaustion, he had accompanied her to the port...as far as the dock, but then he'd left her.

She was disappointed that he'd left her, but grateful for his company. they'd been attacked while on the road, and had it nor been for the young warrior, both she and her dog would likely be dead...or worse. Because of him, though, she was able to flee from her frustrating life, on her way to somewhere else.

And she still had no idea where she was going.

[Seraphima]

That day, like the previous, was fairly dull for Sara. There was a little bit of inconsequential conversation -- mostly brought on by the fact that she had a dog.

In fact...by the end of the day, Sara couldn't count the number of times she'd said, "his name is Maurizio...but that's something of a mouthful, so he goes by Maurz. Most of the time." Surely, her dog was the best way she had of meeting people. Very few people didn't like dogs.

And while he was a very useful tool for meeting people, he also made sure that she didn't meet the wrong sort of person. It was a very bold man indeed that would risk being bitten to attack an otherwise defenseless woman.

No doubts about it...Maurz was her best asset.

The only interesting conversation she had all day was with an elderly gentleman who had identified himself as Mr. Logan of Gisela. He'd had some business in Scara Brae, and was now returning home via this ferry. While he was admiring how handsome her dog was, Sara took the chance to ask him a question.

"What country is Gisela in? Or is Gisela its own country?"

The man laughed, his voice warm and creaky with age. "My dear child...Gisela is a city in Corone, which is the country to which we are headed. I'm responsible, in small part, for helping to rebuild it after a series of battles which ravaged the town and land. We're doing a bit better now, the economy is starting to stabilize...but since Corone is at war with itself, who knows what will happen next?"

"Oh..." was all she'd thought to say.

The old man took her small, satiny hand in his old, leathery one. "I'll tell you what, my dear...since we're getting into Corone late tonight, I'll take you back home with me. My wife will love to have company, especially a pretty girl like yourself to spoil, since our children are all grown and out of the house. And I won't hear a word otherwise, unless you have someone expecting you at the port. It's too dangerous at night, what with the war going on, and all."

[Seraphima]

He hadn't taken a refusal, and that evening Sara found herself seated in an open-air carriage with a few other people, Mr. Logan among them.

The sun had set not long ago, and Sara could feel the air chilling around her, especially as the wind began to whip back out toward the sea.

The carriage was pulled by two horses, and the road was made of cobblestone. Sara could hear the tocka-tock tocka-tock of the horses' hooves on stone and the ricka-ta ricka-ta ricka-ta of the carriage wheels. Maurz sat on her feet, keeping her warm and safe.

The people in the carriage conversed quietly among themselves, and Sara found herself lulled to sleep by the rhythmic sounds of the carriage as it moved.

Later, she felt herself gently shaken awake by Mr. Logan's leathery hand. "Sara, dear? Wake up. We're here."

She rubbed a hand over her blindfold -- a reflexive act, reminiscent of a child wiping sleep from its eyes, and another reason she thought that at one point she'd been able to see. A blind person had no use for such a motion.

"All right. And thank you, again." She picked up her small bag with all her belongings, and let Mr. Logan lead her down the streets toward his house.

Gisela smelled like a city -- the undertones of fear and filth, the mid tones of food and activity, and now the overtones of the night. Night has it's own particular smell...it smells like calm, stillness, and foreboding, as well as anticipation and anxiety. It is a scent impossible to notice when one has the gift of sight, because then, after all, one's eyes can give the sense of darkness and one's brain can invent all the sentiments it likes to accompany the night.

It's the moon that creates such a foreboding sense in the night, decided Sara. Its light is so...creepy.

The light of the moon on her skin felt like a chill...like a membrane-thin layer of frost water brushing over her.

Maurz seemed to sense his mistress's disquietude, stopping for a moment to lick her hand. She patted his head, coughing a little bit. "I'm all right, Maurz."

Mr. Logan seemed to notice Sara's discomfort as well, gently patting her shoulder. "Just a little farther now, my dear. I think you'll like my home very much, it's a cozy place. And Lydia will be very happy to have a guest."

Sara smiled, nodding. He'd spoken fondly of his wife and children, never once mentioning anything about her blindness. It felt good to be treated like a person for once, instead of an invalid.

[Seraphima]

When Mr. Logan opened the door and ushered Sara in, his wife poked her head out of the kitchen. The house smelled of vegetables and poultry cooking, as well as having the scent of being a home -- that lived in scent a house acquires only after decades of having a family residing in it comfortably.

"Arthur! What do I tell you about bringing people home without giving me warning? Oh, come right in, dear, and never mind the mess. Now, dinner should be ready in a few minutes -- oh, what a charming dog! Just sit down, now, dear. If you met Arthur on the boat, I'm sure you're exhausted."

The old lady, with her hands soft like feather down, gently guided the young blind woman into a chair, and then directed her husband to pour tea for her. Her voice was high and shrill, and yet held the same note of kindness and compassion that her husband's had.

"Surely you can't just allow her to have come all this way and not put something hot into her. Remember how sick Annie used to get? We can't have that happening to this poor girl, can we now?"

Mr. Logan obeyed, chuckling. "It's been too long since she's had someone to baby, so you don't need to worry about yourself tonight. If you have business here, tomorrow is soon enough to worry about it...but for tonight, just humor two old people."

A smile touched Sara's lips. "I'm more than happy to humor you and your wife for tonight."

Dinner itself was a simple affair -- chicken, bread, and some vegetables, but it was lovingly prepared, and there was cake afterward.

When everyone was done eating, and the table had been cleared, Mr. Logan set up a pallet for Maurz to sleep on in the guest room, and Mrs. Logan settled in to talk with her guest. For an hour or so, she talked about her children and grandchildren -- the prides of her existence, and all women are bound to boast of them, whether it was a misbehaving boy -- "now, he gets into some trouble every once in a while, but he's really a good child. He's only eight, and has so much energy to let out. You know how it goes, of course," -- or a child that excelled in school -- "and just last week, she won the spelling bee in her class at school. The one for her grade is next week, and I just know she's going to win the entire thing."

Sara, for her part, was happy to listen and hear about the pleasures of a normal life. But of course, as was inevitable, the topic shifted to her.

"So tell me, dear...how long have you been blind?"

"Well...I don't remember much of my past...not even a year's worth, really. So you could say I've been blind for longer than I can remember."

"And...oh, forgive my rudeness in asking...but...what's it like?"

Sara leaned back in her chair, turning her head toward the fire as it crackled merrily in the hearth, and smelling the smoke that drifted in every now and again. It was a hickory fire...no other wood gave off that warm scent of an embrace.

"What's it like to be blind? I'd say that I don't really experience the world in any less of a way than a seeing person does. I can hear each sound distinctly and clearly, so I can hear where things are. I can feel texture with my fingers, and I can smell various odors and taste various flavors -- and not just of food, but of air. I don't know what a color looks like...but a few have tastes."

Sara smiled as she heard the old woman's chair creak a little as she shifted. Come on, ask me. I want you to ask.

Indeed...after a moment, Lydia Logan shifted once more before cautiously saying, "what...does a color...taste like, dear?"

"Well...orange is sweet and tangy, green is slightly bittersweet. Red tastes like peppers, and purple tastes like wine. I don't know what blue tastes like...nor black...not every color has a flavor."

Shortly thereafter, the conversation wound down and everyone went to bed.

[Seraphima]

In the morning, Sara and Maurz were fed a piping hot breakfast and then sent on their way.

"If you need a place to stay again tonight, ask for the Logans," said the old lady, heaping another hot wheat cake onto Sara's plate. "And if you ever need anything, just come on back. We'll be glad to have you back...such a nice girl."

And so the conversation (mostly one-sided) went.

When Sara finally did get out of the house to explore Gisela, the city was already bustling. There were women out doing shopping, men arguing with each other angrily, and children playing in the street before school.

With children came a very familiar routine. A soft (or loud, but noise was relative in the din of a city) patter patter patter, a rough and jarring jerk on the lead, and a child's high-pitched voice shouting "doggy!"

Sometimes, older or more polite children would ask if they could pet the dog, and of course she gave permission -- it was so much better to know that someone was going to shake the dog slightly (and therefore her perception of the world), than having her arm and balance yanked on roughly.

And on occasion, some children were worse than others. When Maurz wouldn't respond to calls of "come play, boy!" from a group of boys somewhere between twelve and fourteen, a couple went over to try and yank the dog from her grasp.

The world flew from one side to another as Sara did her best to keep her hold on the lead, and Maurizio growled, snapping at the boys but never biting.

A few adults scolded the boys, but none took any actions until finally, when her grip was slipping from the lead, Sara whacked one of the boys lightly with her walking stick. When that had no effect, she aimed for his shoulder with the metal head, and heard it connect with a thuck.

The boy cried out in pain, dropping the harness, and the dog pulled his mistress away rapidly.

"Whoa! Maurz!!!!"

[Seraphima]

Warning, slum-language encountered here.

When they finally came to a stop, Sara had no idea where they were. There was still the din of a the town, and they were still within its boundaries, as the ra-tap-tap of her cane against the cobblestone streets.

This must be the poor area of town, reflected Sara. All around there were the scents of poverty that Sara had been familiar with in Scara Brae. The acrid smell of human filth met with the smell of decay that accompanied alcohol, and often Sara's cane clanked against empty or mostly-empty bottles of the stuff.

She was glad it was day...most inhabitants would be working or looking for work, but instinct still made her tread quietly with her dog, just trying to get out of there as swiftly as possible.

"Fuckin' IC...war," muttered someone drunkenly, ahead and in an alley to the right. "Fuckin' war, wreckin' everything. And you KNOW why it's haIC -- happening. It'sh because the ALIENS want all the power fer themselves. ALIENS!"

A slightly more sober voice sounded from right beside him. "You're fucking crazy. Been hitting the bottle too hard again."
"It's a bloody IC lie. Th' Vicheroies...taken over by aliens."

Sara nudged her dog gently...best to just keep moving. After a while, they were out of the slums, by just a bit, and the slender girl rested against a wall, coughing again, deep, racking coughs that felt like it was slamming her lungs and heart against a pillar of stone.

"Come on, Maurz," she said when she could breathe again. "Let's see what we can't find."

They did have to find a place to stay, and some sort of a job.

[Seraphima]

Hours of walking took the two out of the town and into more open air. All around was the scent of grass and earth, and more and more the scents of the city faded.

"Where are you leading us, Maurz? We just got to Gisela."

But the dog just vocalized softly. Gisela had a few good people...but in that city he'd been able to sense an underlying hostility. The unfamiliar was not welcome yet, was suspect...and even with his protection, if Sara could not be part of the pack, then Sara was in danger.

"I suppose you're asking me to trust you, aren't you, Maurz?"

Sara could hear the dog wagging his tail and panting. "Well...you've always led me right before...so I'll trust you. Come on, Maurz...let's go."

Hopefully they'd reach somewhere and find something...but if they didn't, how much worse was their fate than it would have been in Scara Brae, condemned to a slow death, ignored, just because she could not see?

In any event...they had food for a couple of days, and a little gold left. They could make it.

She had to believe that. She had to have faith.

There, all done!

Spoils request: No gold. She's a poor blind girl, and it makes absolutely no sense for her to get gold here. Take it away, some of it. Ferry passage money, or something.

[Witchblade]

Story

Continuity: - 5 I’m not exactly sure where this quick little quest fits in with Seraphima’s storyline. You mentioned OOCly in your judging request that it’s to tie how she goes from Scara Brae to Corone, however you should never have to mention something like that OOCly. That should be addressed within the storyline. A good way of doing this is having the character reflect upon events that just happened, this will not only help give the reader an idea of what has been going on around her but what exactly she’s doing.

As you mentioned yourself, this was not meant to be an overly exciting story, however you could have made it one very easily. Exciting doesn’t necessarily mean that Seraphima has to fight off a group of bandits or slay a dragon. She’s a blind girl, just getting around a new city could be exciting for her as she could easily get lost and run into the wrong person. Not to mention she could meet someone interesting. Having a blind character means you have to explore your creativity a little more and use the handicap to your advantage.

Setting: - 6 Setting is going to be somewhat tricky for you, because your character can’t see and you write in the third person. You could always try third person omniscient which basically means you as the writer are God and jump around from person to person as you wish controlling them individually. This would work well in solos, but not so much in quests. However, that being said your setting is not horrible. In the beginning you do a wonderful job of description the setting of her room, however after that things tend to get a little on the lazy side. There are a few description things here and there, but not much. I want to feel what Seraphima is feeling. Blind people have heightened senses. You use sound a lot and smell as well but not texture so much.

Pacing: - 5 A nice steady flow to the quest. Unfortunately there never really was the rise and fall of the typical plot line; it was mostly just a straight line across where everything had a continuous flow to it. As the QM you are in charge of making exciting things happen. Perhaps more could have occurred between those kids and her dogs and a few of the locals had to break it up and then she met someone when that happened. There’s a lot you can do with a blind girl, the most trivial problem for someone with sight would be a mountainous obstacle for her to overcome.

Character

Dialogue: - 6 There wasn’t much dialogue and Seraphima herself didn’t talk much. Mrs. Logan talked the most of out the entire quest, her conversation light hearted and realistic. Even then you were only giving snip its of what the two of them were really talking about. The whole scene in the house seemed especially rushed in a way where you just wanted to get it over and done with and not have to bother with dialogue between the characters, yet felt a necessarily to put it in anyway. Dialogue is how characters express themselves to the outside world; the people walking around them cannot hear their inner thoughts, only we as the readers can.

Persona: - 5 It was hard to get a good feeling for her personality. She just didn’t seem to shine through on this quest as all. Obstacles thrown in the path of our characters allow the reader to see their true colours and how they would react in dire—or sometimes not so dire—situations. Dialogue also helps establish personality and I’m sure longer posts on your behalf with more in-depth thought on the characters behalf would have helped.

Action: - 7 The actions always seemed true to the character, though there seemed to be few of them. For the most part you just wrote about her walking around various areas and trying to find a job. The only time I found her actions a little strange was when she went home with Mr. Logan. He was a stranger and though Maurz would not have let a stranger who would do her harm near her, I still found her a little too trusting. The journey from Scara Brae to Corone is a few days by boat, it would have made more sense if they’d met before the last day and she’d gotten to know him a little better.

Writing Style

Mechanics: - 5 Your paragraphs are very, very short, some of them being only a sentence long. Try making them a little longer and adding more detail to them. You don’t need to weigh the quest down with unnecessary thought or action, but try to beef up your writing with a bit more detail instead of quickly running through it just to get to the end. Colorizing your inner thoughts does make them stand out, but you don’t necessarily have to do it, I find using italics to be just as effective, also remember you don’t have to tag them each time. Once the reader sees that the green words are inner thoughts, they don’t always need a tag.

Technique: - 4 The sounds that you add to the story are interesting and help the reader understand how Seraphima perceives the world, however they are used rather frequently. Words like ‘w’i’i’lll k’reee tocka tock, tocka tock’ all need to be sounded out in the mind of the reader and thus break up the flow and slow down the reader. These can be used during a quest, but they must be used effectively and carefully. Putting too many in will eventually annoy the reader who doesn’t want to have to stop every few paragraphs and try to sound something out.

Clarity: - 9 Clear writing, I never once had to go back and read over something a second time.

Wild Card: - 6 It was a good quest, however I wonder to the point of it. There could have been some kind of action going on in there, even throwing in another character just to add some company for her would have been good. Even just mentioning the boat ride in this upcoming quest you mentioned in Corone would have been enough too, as nothing important seemed to happen here.

Total: 58

Rewards:

Seraphima receives 370 experience!

Her passage across the ocean to Corone cost her 50 GP!

[Cyrus the virus]

EXP added and gold deducted! Seraphima levels up!