Today started off slow and I ended up procrastinating for the early-morning writing period by creating my review index and updating my “about me” page. Oops.
It ended up being a decent day of writing, even though I’m not totally impressed with the way things have turned out. I definitely need to describe things more and probably draw myself some (really bad) maps so I can get my head on straight next time I look at those parts.
I’ve reached one of the final confrontations, but there are more to come. I’m not very good at only having one climax. Oops again.
#WIPjoy day 11:
And for shits and gigs I did a WIP aesthetic. Here’s a bigger version than the one you’ll see on Twitter:
I just really wanted to use this word:
#TuesTropes. I’ll let the person who chose the theme explain in their tweet:
My response for it is the Fairy Queen:
All my writing for today is spoilery as heck, so I’m going to pick something from earlier in the story. While what I’m sharing is a turning point, it’s not really a plot twist since we all know it was going to happen anyway.
This is back when Princess Tesana was still narrating in past tense. She has been staying at a cottage with the three good fairies who are protecting her from the Fairy Queen’s curse. Anyway, watch me struggle to describe a spinning wheel and how it works:
I slipped out the door and stepped onto the grass, lifting my skirts until I could be sure the grass wasn’t overly dewy. It wouldn’t do to ruin the lovely dress the fairies had made for me.
A tiny point of light glimmered between the trees and I found myself drawn to it, moving before I had even decided whether I would. A strange sort of calm washed over me. Nothing that pretty could be dangerous, surely.
I followed the light into the woods and along a narrow path, oddly devoid of twigs and mud or even animals, until it opened up into another clearing.
A woman in a tattered brown cloak sat on a little wooden stool before some kind of wheeled contraption. I had never seen such a thing before. The woman’s hand turned the wheel, which pulled some kind of string from a clump of hair-like material tied onto a long vertical staff. The string collected on some kind of horizontal spike, or stick, and the woman pulled her arm horizontally to draw it out from the staff and then vertically to wrap it around the stick.
The woman paused in her work, smiling up at me. Her face, barely visible beneath her hood despite the warmth of the day, was lined and pale. But her eyes were a bright green.
“Hello, young lady,” she said. “What brings you to my part of the woods?”
The light that had led me here was long gone and I was left with the distinct impression that I had been the only person who had seen it. I had no good explanation for my presence, especially given I was not dressed as the sort of girl who would willingly walk into a forest by herself. I wasn’t entirely sure I had come here willingly at all.
“Oh, never mind that,” said the old woman. “Come. Sit with me a while.”
Well, I was here anyway. The old woman shifted on her stool until I could just squeeze on. She continued turning the wheel and pulling the thread.
“What are you doing?” I asked. “I have never seen such a thing before.”
“I am spinning flax into linen to take to market, my child. Would you like to try?”
“Well, I suppose…”
The woman stopped her turning and passed the string to my hand. “We will take it slow. Pull the fibers until your arm is extended. Then lift your arm and allow the thread to wrap around the spindle. I’ll turn the wheel for you.”
I pulled my arm back, but I think I pulled too hard, because the string on the spindle and the fibers on the tall staff separated. The old woman stopped turning, but the string had unravelled from the spindle a little bit.
“Nothing to worry about,” she said. “Best you pick that up. My back isn’t the way it used to be.”
I leaned down, searching for the end of the thread. The old woman shifted her weight and I lost my balance, reaching out for the first thing to grab hold of. The very sharp, very metal spindle.
The sharp end jabbed my thumb and blood dripped from the wound. I wasn’t—I had never been—blood wasn’t something that upset me… but I felt oddly dizzy.
The old woman caught me before I fell off the stool, her hood falling back and robes turning to leaves. The woman’s features sharpened and her hair sucked the brightness out of the air around her.
The Fairy Queen lowered me to the ground. “Ah, Princess Tesana. Such a naive little thing.”
“What—what is this?” My limbs were heavy. I couldn’t lift my head. Air would not enter my body.
“Listen well, Princess. You have little time left.” The Fairy Queen knelt beside me. “When you were a baby, your parents neglected to invite me to your Naming Day, while the other fairies of the land were. Such a slight could not be ignored. I laid a curse upon you. On the day of your sixteenth birthday, you would prick your finger on a spindle and die.”
My heart beat harder in response, as if it could outrun the magic. I would never see Rhian again. The world already sounded as distant as it had that day I fell into the water in the port city. I was dimly aware of pain shooting from my finger, throughout the rest of my body, but it was muted somehow. Is this what dying felt like?
“I believe your smallest fairy friend altered my curse so you would fall into a deep sleep instead,” said the Fairy Queen. I had to strain to hear her. She leaned down, her breath brushing my ear. “Regardless, I think my point has been made. I do not abide disrespect. And you, innocent child, would not have been nearly as easy to lure if your parents had thought to tell you all this.” She stroked my cheek. “Now sleep, little girl. The world will be much changed if you ever wake again.”
My eyelids were too heavy. I let them fall.