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[Nov. 12th, 2005|02:20 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  cranky | ] |
Gah, I shouldn't have skipped those two days this week! I'm really mad at myself right now. I'm depending on next Thursday afternoon (our mini-day) to catch up. Well, technically, I'm on track, but still, I'm not on my own track. I hate being behind!
I hate week two.
Cresta Run, Cresta Run, Cresta Run... |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 9th, 2005|10:05 pm] |
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So, I haven’t yet said anything about this year’s nanonovel. I wish that lj wasn’t blocked at school, because last year that was when I did these updates.
Anyway, I don’t have much of a plot. There’ve been two kidnappings, but I don’t know why they happened, who did them, or how Captain Nathaniel is going to figure out who did it.
Sub-plot, ahoy!
Raquel’s suddenly in love with Blakeney! How cool. I wonder when that happened? Yay romantic sub-plots! Dammit, even Edwin knew about Raquel’s crush before me. How unfair.
I personally love Edwin. He’s such a cutie. I want him.
But Captain Nathaniel. I don’t know why, but I have this scene in my head where he tries to rape Raquel or something. It’s funny, because right now he seems so nice, but he’s not. He’s just trying to get in her pants. Err… under her skirt.
Eee, this is fun. I love nanowrimo.
I feel really guilty about not taking Dan’s shift last night, even though he might have broken his hand. I had at least an hour of homework, and that’s after I finished my wordcount for the day! But I felt guilty, and got blocked!
One of the better parts of my novel… and even this sucks!
( Read... ) |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 23rd, 2004|01:25 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  accomplished | ] |
I'M DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!! |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 20th, 2004|09:45 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  excited | ] |
woot, writing marathon today. Had a ten minute break every 1500 words for 7,951 words. It was really fun! And now I'm only 10k away from finishing!!
*does an excited dance*
woot! |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 19th, 2004|11:10 am] |
I haven't written anything in three days. argh. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 15th, 2004|03:11 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  amused | ] |
I'm very happy! It took me almost half an hour to realize that 28k is more than 25k. *is dorky*
The end is in sight!
But my MC is turning into a Mary Sue. Oh well. I'm planning on fixing that tonight. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 15th, 2004|02:45 pm] |
My Mc's a freakin' Mary Sue. Oh well. C'est la Vie.
*headdesk, headdesk, headdesk* |
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| TODAY IS GOOD! |
[Nov. 11th, 2004|07:33 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | bouncy | ] |
I feel VERY accomplished. I wrote nearly 4000 words today! Yahoo! I'm very happy. And excited. And bouncy!
Yay for writing!
I absolutely love my MC. She's great. And Prince Lioh... he's such a dummy
I love my (non-existant) plot!
YAY! |
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| Missed last night.... |
[Nov. 10th, 2004|09:29 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  annoyed | ] |
I didn't get to write last night. *is sad*
Stupid NLS. I always feel sooooo stupid when I go there. I'm the third guard and I'm like... >_<? What do I do, Krista? HEEEEEELLLLP MEEEEEE!
And then I'm second guard and I'm like... "cheking for breathing... oh crap, I did it again."
And then I'm first guard and I'm like... "uh... hey, victim dude. I'm not allowed to say it, but you're going to be all right. I shouldn't have told you that because it might be a lie. oops"
And then I feel stupid. Yay for feeling stupid.
But that wasn't the point of this post. The point is, I'm pissed because I didn't get the chance to write. *damned english project* I was up until 11:30, (which is late for me, cause I'm usually in bed by eleven) and I hadn't written one word.
*is sad*
but I did get to brag about my novel to my NLS class. I explained the main plot, and they were like... O_O and then I was like :-D, and then they were like... "Wow. That's complicated." and I was like :-o ...cause it's not complicated.
haha. that was fun. |
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| Days one through seven. |
[Nov. 8th, 2004|02:31 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | peaceful | ] |
Days 1 to 7 behind the cut. A few edits in there, that's why I'm re-posting this. Any comments? Anyone?
Feel free to tell me what plot holes you see. Maybe I can fill them in later.
( My novel thus far... )<P clas |
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| Argh |
[Nov. 5th, 2004|10:55 am] |
Oh man, yesterday was bad.
We had a half-day, and I thought I was going to spend all day writing. But then I got home, and I realized I hadn't even started my Math review (test on monday) and my english presentation (Due Wednesday.)
I spent ALL afternoon working on them, and I even worked on them when I got to the meeting. And then, when I got home, I had to do v-word stuff, and I didn't start writing until ten-thirty. And I was exhausted.
I'm definitely making it up this weekend.
Off to write! |
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| Day two, Chapter one: 4020 words |
[Nov. 3rd, 2004|09:00 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  sleepy | ] |
Chapter one:
Darkness. She was surrounded by it. Drowning in it, taking it into her lungs, breathing it. It was soothing her, cooing to her, calming her.
“Doryn. Wake up.”
Someone was shaking her, and calling a stranger’s name. Kara of Sodendo tried to push her tormentor off, but her arms felt like lead weights, and she couldn’t open her eyes. Now she was being slapped, sharp, stinging slaps to both cheeks. She struggled, and the slaps stopped, but the shouting got louder.
“Wake up! Quick!”
Kara was swept up into a pair of strong arms. She was flung over someone’s shoulder, and he took off, bouncing her along. She slowly woke, feeling a pounding headache coming on. She opened her eyes, and took a look at her surroundings. She was bouncing along a dark alley, high walls on both sides. Chasing her and her captive were two small, underfed young men. Both were wearing patched, oversized clothing. The closest one was brown-haired and green-eyed, with a long nose and a lot of freckles. The other was brown-haired also, but grey-eyed and freckle-free. His skin clung to his cheekbones, and his lips seemed too big for his face, but his eyes shone with humour. A small fairy guardian flew at his shoulder, urging him along.
Kara groaned. She rolled her neck, not an easy task when she was slung over a stranger’s shoulder. The man jerked his head to see her moving, and stopped. He carefully placed her on the ground and looked her in the eye. He was taller than her by at least a head, perhaps six-foot five. His black hair was cropped short in an ordinary commoner style. His eyes were a dark brown, and had a penetrating, analytical spark to them. His lips were full and dark, his nose straight and sprinkled with a few freckles. He had high cheekbones and a strong chin, and was arching a single eyebrow.
“Y’okay t’run?” he asked. Kara blinked at the common accent to his voice, but nodded.
“Where are we running?” she asked dazedly. The man shook his head, grabbed her wrist and pulled her away. He took off down the alley, and into the street beyond. They criss-crossed through the crowds on the street, still pursued by the two boys. She gave them a fleeting look and the farther one gave her a shadow of a grin. Kara looked straight ahead, and almost ran into the one who’d carried her. He was standing at the end of an alley. Where, Kara had no idea. But he was looking around the corner, checking to see if the coast was clear. Kara couldn’t have said what he was looking for.
The young man turned back, and grinned. He quirked his eyebrows at her again, and walked nonchalantly down the street. She followed his lead, as did the two behind her. They made their way through the crowds, heading for a small inn at the end of the street. The grey-eyed young man with the fairy guardian fell into step with her.
“Gave us’a scare back there,” he said to her.
She blinked at him. “What did I do?” she asked. He smiled.
“Gone and knocked the mem’ry outta ya!” he exclaimed. “Quick, what’s me name?”
“I don’t know,” Kara snapped. “I’ve never met you before in my life.”
“An’ the high-class talk!” her friend remarked. “Doryn, I think ya must’a hit yer head on the ground a li’le too hard.”
“My name’s not Doryn,” Kara retorted. “It’s Kara.”
He stopped. He stared at her. “What d’you mean yer name ain’t Doryn?”
“My name is Kara of Sodendo,” Kara said. “I’m a squire… up at the academy?”
“Yer not.” He stared at her.
“I am,” she argued. “I spent my five years as a page, and three as a squire. I’m almost there.”
“But ye’re not,” he argued back. “Ye’re a servant. In the Royal Palace. Ye ’ave been for years.”
Kara stared at him, and he stared back. Not a squire? She thought. How could that be? She clearly remembered her years as a page, and her current situation at the Acadamy with her friend Dane. She remembered the training, the pain, and the pressure to do everything according to the code of Chivalry. How could she not be a squire?
“Who are you?” she finally asked.
“You don’t remember me?” for a moment a disappointed look came into his eyes. Quickly though, he smiled again. “We’re going to have to get that memory back! M’name’s Napier, how d’you do?” He stuck out his hand. Kara reached out and shook it.
“Kara of Sodendo,” she replied. “Nice to meet you. I think.” She gave him a grin and motioned towards the others, who were waiting up the road a ways. “Let’s catch up.”
“Right,” Napier said. They hurried to catch up. “So what’s the last thing ye remember?” he asked.
“Well, I was studying with my friend Dane, we have a test on etiquette tomorrow. I’m sure he’s going to do well, but he’s such a worrier. He’s always saying how terrible he is.”
“Right,” Napier said dismissively. “And what after that?”
Kara searched her memory. “Well… the storm had just passed over us, and it was headed over to the other side of the city. Dane went to the bookshelf to get a book… Pasma was pointing out to me this little detail in the textbook…”
“Pasma?” Napier asked. “Who’s that?”
“Dane’s fairy guardian,” Kara explained. She glanced at his shoulder, where a small being was sleeping. “You have one too! What’s his name?”
“Bedry,” Napier said fondly. “Dunno what I’d do witho’t ‘im.” He reached up a hand and gently lifted Bedry. He stirred, looking around, and squeaked:
“I’m not asleep! I was just checking my eyelids for holes!” He grinned. He was like a tiny human, about nine inches high. His hair was brown streaked with black, and his eyes were a deep amethyst. His nose was short and stubbed, and his lips were thin and pale. Bedry’s eyes shone with the same humour that glittered in Napier’s.
Bedry bowed low to Kara, his nose almost touching Napier’s hand. “Very pleased to meet you, Squire Kara,” he said in his high voice. “How are you this evening?”
“Very well, thank you,” Kara replied, grinning. “And yourself?”
“I am also well,” Bedry said solemnly. Then he grinned. “Let’s get some ale!”
Kara laughed. Napier grabbed her arm and guided her into the inn’s common room. He took her to a small table in the corner, sheltered from view by the fireplace on one side, and another booth in front. Kara settled into the offered seat, confused, but a little pleased that Napier had the courtesy to pull out the chair for her.
He settled into his own seat. “Now, ye remember Dane gettin’ up fer a book…”
“Right,” Kara said, straightening. “He went for the book, and this huge wind went careening past the window. It blew the pane of glass out, and then… it was dark. And I woke up on what’s his name’s shoulder. That’s about it. I don’t remember you, or the other two… or this place. I don’t remember it.”
Napier leaned back and seemed to consider her story. “You don’t remember me?” he asked. “Slightly? Barsy? Dorram? Anyone?”
Kara shook her head. “I’ve never met anyone here,” she affirmed. “I’m sorry, but I’ve always been Kara of Sodendo, up at the Knight Academy.” She shifted in her seat. “Sorry, Napier, where’s the privy?”
Napier laughed. He pulled aside a passing barmaid and asked her to lead Kara to the privy. Kara entered the small room, its only furnishings a small pot and a mirror. She first relieved herself, and went to check her appearance in the mirror.
She shrieked.
The face in the mirror wasn’t hers! Her hair was pulled into a horsetail of approximately the same length, but it was blonde, not black. Her nose was small and freckled, and her nostrils flared. Her eyebrows were thin and dark, over cat-like green-grey eyes. Her lips were full and pink, and her chin was strong and determined. Her skin was pale under a summer’s tan. Where was the long, bumped nose? The sparse five freckles on her left cheek? Her golden brown eyes? Where were the small lips, the sharp chin?
Napier burst into the privy. Kara whirled, and screamed again. He looked around the small room, puzzled, then stared at her in confusion.
“Wha’s the matter?” he demanded.
Kara pointed at the mirror. “That!” she shrieked. “It’s not mine!”
“Wha’ ain’t yers?” Napier asked, looking in the mirror.
“The face!” Kara exclaimed. “It’s not my face! It’s not my face!”
“What ‘re ye goin’ on abou’?” Napier asked. “’S the same face y’ad yesterday, ‘n the day b’fore.”
“No, it isn’t,” Kara insisted. I’m not me. Look!” She raised her arms. “No muscle! No scars! I’m not me!”
“What’re ye gettin’ at?” Napier asked.
Kara stared at him in wonder. “The wind! It must have been magic! It switched your… Doryn and I!”
“Switched ye?” Napier asked. “How so?”
Kara sat down hard on the floor and forced herself to take some deep breaths. “I’m not in my own body. I’m not me. I don’t have my muscles, my scars, my lungs, my heart, my feet, my hands, my face! I’ve got my own soul and brain and memories.”
“So…ye’re not Doryn?” Napier asked cautiously.
Kara shook her head. “No, I’m not going crazy. I’ve been switched!”
An odd look crossed Napier’s face, and then he grinned. “Well, in that case, lemme be the firs’ te welcome ye to the Footstep Inn, me very own headquarters.”
“Headquarters?” Kara asked. “Headquarters for what?”
“There’s the myst’ry eh?” Napier asked. “Meby I’ll tell ye later. Fer now, come ‘n meet the boys!” Napier pulled Kara to her feet and dragged her back out to the common room. He took her to the main table, where all the men and women, young and old, moved to let him take a seat. Kara sat next to him, looking around apprehensively.
A young woman in a barmaid’s dress was dealing cards from the lap of the man who’d carried Kara through the alley.
Not done this yet, obviously, but I had NLS last night and I didn't get home till ten. Yuck for homework too, and sleep. I hate that I need to sleep. *dies*
ohhhhh... pretty counter bar... |
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| November 1st: Prologue, 2303 words |
[Nov. 2nd, 2004|01:51 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | happy | ] |
Prologue
----- City, capital of -----. 7:56 PM
Thunder rolled. Lightening split the sky. Rain poured down on the heads of those unlucky enough to be caught outside. The people of -----, the capital of -----, huddled together under awnings or in doorways, hoping to find a little shelter, and a little heat.
In his three hundred foot tower, the King’s mage Wolsey worked hard on his latest project, oblivious to the weather outside. His workroom on the second floor was the largest and most comfortable in his tower, and for that reason it had been soundproofed. Worn armchairs were covered with papers and scrolls, as were his two desks. Books lined the shelves along each wall, the only interruption a small window, facing north. Odd, mismatched objects lay haphazardly on the hardwood floor--here a bottle of green liquid, there a feather, and perhaps a sketch or two of a rare fairy guardian. A single table lay clear of all clutter, in the middle of the room.
At this table sat Wolsey, concentrating hard on his latest secret project. He babbled and muttered under his breath, and ran his hand through his hair again and again. His quill pen scratched back and forwards across his paper, covering the side of his left hand black. Only in his workroom did the ambidextrous mage write with his left hand.
Wolsey finally set down his quill pen and leaned back. He shook out his hand, rubbing out the cramps. He stared blankly ahead, still thinking hard about what he had just written. He stood, and absently sifted through some fairy sketches piled on the desk by the southern door. Finding the one he was searching for, he wandered back to his desk and sat down, mesmerized by the sketch.
The sketch was of one of the most magical and mysterious creatures in -----. Fairy guardians were rare creatures, assigned to perhaps one in a million. They knew no discrimination—fairies chose to guard those in every country around the world. Once assigned, the fairy would guard their human for as long as he or she lived, and were the most loyal of bodyguards. Fairy magic was extremely powerful, and many merchants had tried before to exploit those with a fairy. A fairy however, could never give their magic unless their humans wished it so. No human with magic had ever been assigned to a fairy. People with fairies were chosen seemingly at random, and it had been the work of mages for centuries to predict why fairies were assigned to humans. As of yet, no mage has been able to find the answer to the age-long question.
Wolsey’s project was of this nature. Using formulas and spells known for ages, and some he had created, Wolsey was ready to begin experimenting on fairy magic and its origin. King Anaket knew nothing of Wolsey’s experimentation, though Wolsey knew he should have told him as soon as he had begun the research. Wolsey was a proud man, and didn’t enjoy his failures begin made public. All of his assistants in his tower had been sworn to secrecy and most of the King’s servants in the palace also. But somehow some of Wolsey’s previous failures had been made public, and his talents had been the subject of doubt more than once. Wolsey saw no reason to inform the King before he had come up with some proof that his theories were correct. If some of his experiments came out as planned, he would inform the King, and perhaps tell a little white lie about how far his research had progressed. For now, he planned to continue his initial experiments.
Wolsey stood and wandered out into the hallway beyond his room. At the end of the hall were the servant’s stairs, at the bottom of which lay the kitchen. He hurried down these steps, and there found his head cook, Fosbury. She was a cheerful lady, with a wide mouth made for smiling. She was always laughing, and her brown eyes always twinkled with some hidden humour. She was a plump lady, but she was strong and authoritative. She held the respect of all her assistant cooks, and most of the other servants in the tower as well. She was one of the rare few with a fairy guardian. Fosbury was sitting at the pain wooden dining table, reading. She looked up as Wolsey came in, and grinned.
“I thought you’d be down here soon,” she said. “How is your… project coming?”
Wolsey smiled back the cook. “It’s progressing wonderfully,” he said happily. “I’ve come for a bite to eat before I begin my first experiments.”
“Wonderful,” Fosbury said supportively. “And you’re sure the weather won’t interfere in any way?” she pointed at the window, outside of which the storm raged. As if on cue, loud thunder boomed. A few moments later, lightening struck.
“I’m sure it won’t be problem,” Wolsey said confidently. “I’ve done harder magic in worse. It’s only a matter of concentration.”
“As you say sir,” Fosbury said.
“If you don’t mind,” squeaked a voice by Fosbury’s shoulder, “I’d like to warn you against this experiment.” It was Fosbury’s fairy, Madeira. “The weather isn’t the only thing that could disturb you. Many of the servants make it a habit to come and go through your workroom, and you haven’t locked the door in years.”
“I’ll lock it tonight,” Wolsey said dismissively. “I want to get this going as soon as possible. I’m sure King Anaket is planning a new project for me, and I hope to receive his permission for this before he has a chance.”
“Please Wolsey, listen to her,” Fosbury said over her shoulder. “I don’t know how they know, but these fairies have ways of knowing…things… the future, or the outcomes of some of our decisions. I think you should trust her.”
“I know that fairies have ways of knowing things,” Wolsey said, “but I’ve got to get this finished as soon as possible. I’ll lock the door and replace the sound spells on the room. If you’ll inform the rest of the staff that I’m not to be disturbed…?”
“Yes sir, of course,” Fosbury said. She raised her eyebrows. “What is it that you would like to eat?”
“Something tasty,” Wolsey said teasingly.
“Something tasty,” Fosbury repeated. “I think I can handle that.”
Quickly Fosbury made her master a snack of sliced apples and milk. He thanked her, bid her remember to talk to the rest of the staff, and hurried upstairs to eat his food. He entered his workroom, and locked the door behind him. He smiled indulgently as he sat down to enjoy his evening snack. He went over the specifications of the experiment once more, memorizing the procedure as he had done with hundreds of previous experiments. He wished he could get the nervous knot out of his stomach.
Hundreds of times before had he had that same knot, the one in the pit of his stomach that refused to go away until the experiment was complete. It was the nervousness that came with the possibility of failure. It had haunted him all his life. His failures as a child—every one—haunted him, no matter how he tried to believe that his talent and magical prowess would not fail him.
The King chose me for his personal mage, Wolsey told himself. Of all the mages in -----, he chose me. The thought made him smile for a moment.
The nervousness grew as he finished his snack. The food made him feel a little sick, but he needed as much strength as he could get. Though he was a strong mage, he wanted to have lots of energy in case something went wrong.
Setting his plate aside, Wolsey checked once again that the door was locked and that the sound spells were still in place. He cleared all his papers off his desk, and placed them in the one orderly pile on his desk next to the door. Checking that all was in place, he moved to the window and took a look outside.
Though he could not hear it, the storm outside raged on. The storm was right on top of him now, the thunder and lightening crashing simultaneously. Wolsey cringed. A storm had once cause the failure of one of his most important and magnificent experiments… he shook his head and turned from the window.
Striding now to the centre of the room, he began to chant words in the language of magic. He concentrated hard on the one sketch of a fairy on his desk, the one that belonged to a certain very important someone down in the city of -----…
The air began to swirl around Wolsey’s thin, wiry frame. His short-cropped hair began to wave in the unnatural breeze, though oddly, the papers strewn about the room didn’t even twitch. Wolsey chanted louder and louder, and concentrated harder than ever on his goal. He gave every last ounce of mental power to the task at hand. The winds blew harder and harder, whipping his robes around his legs. His arms tingled with the power streaming out of them. He pushed his entire store of magic into this one spell. Wolsey’s body was threatening to be thrown against the wall…
A mouse squeaked and ran across Wolsey’s foot. Wolsey screamed and jumped into the air, sending the mouse flying into the wind funnel he had created. Wolsey’s magic funnel didn’t stop. His concentration broken, Wolsey’s magic was set loose around the room, which was not big enough to hold all that magic. Papers, books and scrolls flew everywhere, as well as chairs and a number of pens and bottles of ink. The colours blurred together as they were swept into the spiralling wind. Wolsey was being beaten with the ends of papers and the spines of books. He huddled in a corner on the floor in as small a ball as he could form with his body, keeping his head tucked in close to his stomach. He was screaming bloody murder.
The wind, instead of losing power, grew larger and larger, finally blowing open the window and running rampant through the night sky outside. The mouse was slammed to the floor, to lay there dead, the victim of a heart attack.
Wolsey gingerly peeked out from his little corner. As he surveyed the damage he couldn’t help but release a frustrated sigh. All his papers were strewn about the room, in no order at all. Ink covered more than half the books, papers and various other objects, particularly the solitary mat that sat in the centre of the room. He saw numerous important spell formulas blotted with fresh ink. His sketches, so meticulously drawn, covered in dots and ripped to pieces.
Wolsey cried out in frustration. All his hard work, reduced to almost nothing. Apparently the containment spells didn’t work if his concentration was shattered. He reached out and began to collect the closest books, grieving at their wrecked state. He piled them on the floor next to him, and grabbed a few papers, stacking them haphazardly next to the books. Next came the scrolls that went onto a chair that he had to turn upright. He’d almost finished clearing his little corner when the frustration caught up with him.
“ARRGGGHHHH!” He screamed. “Pots! ARRGGGHHHH!”
Wolsey ran out of his workroom, screaming about mice and ruined experiments. The servants, who had heard none of the experiment, ran into private quarters or into cleaning rooms, to get out of his way. None wanted to face the master’s wrath. Only Fosbury went to help him.
“What is going on?” she asked him, once he’d calmed down a little. Wolsey repeated his story of woe, stopping occasionally to let out a muffled scream.
“Calm down now, master Wosley,” she soothed. “I’m sure you can find a way to put things right. What happened to the magic?”
That stopped Wolsey. He got a look on his face like a startled rabbit. He turned on his heel and sprinted to his room, where he found a small mirror, the size of a normal book. He muttered a few words, and peered into the glass.
He searched the whole town for his magic. He looked into inns and chapels, shops and houses. He found nothing. He searched the main streets, and the royal palace. Finally, he searched the streets, where he found an ambassador’s caravan coming from one of the border countries. A group of young adults, mostly in their teens, were attempting to rob the caravan. On the ground, apparently unnoticed by any of the thieves, lay a girl, in the garb of a palace maid. Her body was shining brightly with the colour of his magic. A small fairy guardian was keeping watch over her. She was sleeping, in the middle of the street.
Wolsey cursed. It was obvious to him that the force of his magic had invaded her body, and she had slipped into unconsciousness. He briefly wondered why the magic had chosen her, of all the people in the street. Before he came to any conclusions, he saw a flash of his magic on the other side of the city. He focused closer, and found a girl asleep on one of the beds in the squire’s wing at the Knight Training Academy. She too, was apparently asleep, but a young man with long brown hair was leaning over her prone body. A fairy guardian also hovered over his shoulder.
“No one can know,” Wolsey muttered, afraid for his life.
Wolsey was overwhelmed. He let the mirror slip from his fingers, and he fell to the floor in a dead faint.
I couldn't remember the names of my country or capital. I have to find that map. I searched my house last night but to no avail.
I didn't know that it was going to happen because of a mouse, and I didn't know he was left-handed. I love it when you find things out by writing about your characters. Magic I tell you. Anyways, any comments? |
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