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Genre: Other Genres
About tearsofsirionLocation: Joppatowne, Maryland Home Region: Age:29 Website: http://www.myspace.com/tearsofsirion Favorite novels: Lord of The RIngs, The Princess Bride, The Tripods Series, The Screwtape Letters, Farseer Trilogy Favorite writers: C.S. Lewis, JRR Tolkien, David Eddings, Robert Jordan, Elizabeth Haydon, Janet Evanovich Favorite music: Pink Floyd, jimmy Chamberlin Complex, Modest Mouse, Breaking Benjamin, Smashing Pumpkins, John Mayer Non-noveling interests: Songwriting, homeschooling, guitar, beadwork, video games, d&d |
Joined: Oktober 25, 2007 This Year: Official Participant NaNoWriMo History: NaNoWriMo posts: 38 NaNoWriMo buddies: 9
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Synopsis: A Library in Wessington/Triskabin
I am trying to hit 100k this year, so decided to work on two novels. The first is a YA novel. The second is a fantasy novel. That's why other genres. I feel better posting in both forums this way, lol.
The Library at Wessington
Rachel does not want to move to a new state for her last year of high school, yet the downfall of her father's business and the loss of the family home leaves them no choice but to move in with her mother's aging aunt in the sleepy southern town of Wessington, North Carolina.
Although her aunt lives in a trailer by the beach, Rachel learns that she owns one of the large houses in the town proper. One the family never uses or visits. The town meeting to decide the fate of the Weston House is scheduled for All Saint's Day. Will her Great Aunt Coraline manage to retain the last of the family's pride?
The family cat, Chester, was never an outdoor cat while they lived in New Jersey, but now that they moved to the country he keeps escaping the house in the middle of the night only to be waiting at the door with a raven in his mouth every morning.
One night, Rachel follows him, woken from her dream of a shadow man by Chester opening her bedroom window. Here she begins the struggle to fit in, in a place where almost every thing falls asleep before the witching hour and all realities are thick with vines.
Triskabin
Triskabin feels she is wandering aimlessly after the cleansing of Khevan Morendar. The death of her brother, Avron, in the midst of that struggle convinced her that she only has a limited time to live, despite the advantages of her race.
Although her current mission to the Hall of Silandre seems important to her mentor, Sergio, events in the caves of these most political of Tamali convince her that she was sent away for some reason. Why had her fellow disiples sent her off so unprepared?
Developing a wasting sickness from too many days under ground, Triskabin is saved from the wrath of the Council by a mysterious gray robed figure in the shadows of the Hall's visitor's balcony. Are they friend or foe?
Struggling under ground and fading fast, Triskabin and her gray robed savior race off towards the cave of Wellspring and answers, whether they want them or not.
Excerpt: A Library in Wessington/Triskabin
The Library at Wessington
Chapter 0 - The Fool
She heard a skritch scratch at the front door, followed by a plaintive meow, as soon as she entered the living room. Picking up her morning pace, she shuffled to the door and opened it. “I am going to have to ask if I can put in a cat door.” Fat chance in the witch's house.
To the miscreant she found out on the front porch, she gave a warm smile. “Chester, you are really getting out of hand, how did you-”
“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
“What is that, boy?!?!?”
Covering her mouth, Rachel squatted down to look at the bloody mass of fur Chester had dropped on the welcome mat. Swallowing past the knot that had seemed to rise instantly in her throat, she tilted her head sideways to look at the creatures face, barely visible through hairs matted with red. Chester must have slit its throat with his claws, she thought, looking to the left at Chester. He was sitting there calmly, licking blood from his right front paw. “No problems now that Mommy's here, huh?”
The ravens had been bad. This was totally worse.
Triskabin
The Gods still live in Nieondred.
We can't see them anymore, not per se, but we know they are there.
Laerte's breezes lift the branches of the Trees of Kuitanina, Ekembre's moss infects the east, and the waters have returned to help us all. At least they've tried to help.
The old stories told me the gods had left our world before I met the tamali named Sergio. What would a sixteen year old have really known anyway, beyond how to scout ahead. Into the belly of the beast we went, and I'm not sure I have come out of the other end yet.
Well, isn't that pleasant to think of. I sometimes wish I had never met my mentor, but then I catch myself. If I had not, a slave's life in Duelan for me. Not a nice thought.
I miss my mother still. I left her seven years ago, after mourning my brother. She abides still, she writes me at the Tree. How I don't know. I suspect Korin and Emasu have something to do with it. They came to bring the news of Avron's death alongside me. It was hard not become friends after what happened in the throne room. We all still have nightmares about it, even Sergio. Though I think he gets to cheat. One night I was awake when he had one of these “nightmares”, and all I heard him talk about was his mother. Who knows. Maybe she was stricter than Carmella. Though I don't know what she has to do with what we did at Khevan Morendar.
I pick up the pieces of the story here because, well, no one else has the time.
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