Writing Samples
Aug. 31st, 2017 01:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jewelbox[ A ]
[Richard stands at the shore's edge, eyes fixed in the distance. He's been taught how to swim - from one of the most skilled instructors in Windor - and in fact he's quite good at it. But the waves are unknown and threatening. One wrong move, and he could....]
[Richard's legs tremble ever so slightly as he gulps in a breath. Why is he so frightened? Asbel and Sophie wouldn't be afraid. Besides, there's no acceptable option but to find a way to escape from this place and return to Barona. And with no one around whom he can reasonably trust, well. With slow steps, Richard approaches the nearest boat. He doesn't know precisely how far he might be able to get in this vessel, but anyone watching can probably predict the outcome. A boy, not yet a teenager, commandeering a boat all by himself? It's probably not his wisest idea.]
All right... [Well, the first step is to pull himself into the boat, correct?]
[ D ]
Wh-whoa!! [Anyone nearby is likely to hear a high-pitched, highly undignified yelp.]
[Richard had been minding his own business, truly. Well, fine, perhaps he had stopped for a moment to admire the intricate patterns on a particularly striking rug, but no sooner had he knelt down than the rug had seemingly shot out from beneath him, vaulting itself and Richard up into the air where they now float, much too high up for the boy's tastes considering his fingers, dug in tight, are already threatening to slip free of decorative fibers.]
[His feet dangle uselessly, teeth ground together as he focuses on not. letting. go.]
[ G ]
Ah, no thank you...
[Richard murmurs a polite, if decidedly exhausted refusal. This one chef has continued offering him culinary creations to try, and the ordeal combined with the awful smell of less-than-delectable seafood has left Richard looking a bit pale around the gills. He's tired, and he's hungry, but there's no possible way that he can partake of any of this. The chef may even mean well, but Richard simply isn't willing to risk it.]
[Another platter is thrust under his nose, and this time Richard is forced to stand, backing away quickly from the offensive dish. Perhaps he should be watching where he's going as he continues inching away, a weary smile plastered on his face.] I apologize, but you'll have to excuse me.
[Richard stands at the shore's edge, eyes fixed in the distance. He's been taught how to swim - from one of the most skilled instructors in Windor - and in fact he's quite good at it. But the waves are unknown and threatening. One wrong move, and he could....]
[Richard's legs tremble ever so slightly as he gulps in a breath. Why is he so frightened? Asbel and Sophie wouldn't be afraid. Besides, there's no acceptable option but to find a way to escape from this place and return to Barona. And with no one around whom he can reasonably trust, well. With slow steps, Richard approaches the nearest boat. He doesn't know precisely how far he might be able to get in this vessel, but anyone watching can probably predict the outcome. A boy, not yet a teenager, commandeering a boat all by himself? It's probably not his wisest idea.]
All right... [Well, the first step is to pull himself into the boat, correct?]
[ D ]
Wh-whoa!! [Anyone nearby is likely to hear a high-pitched, highly undignified yelp.]
[Richard had been minding his own business, truly. Well, fine, perhaps he had stopped for a moment to admire the intricate patterns on a particularly striking rug, but no sooner had he knelt down than the rug had seemingly shot out from beneath him, vaulting itself and Richard up into the air where they now float, much too high up for the boy's tastes considering his fingers, dug in tight, are already threatening to slip free of decorative fibers.]
[His feet dangle uselessly, teeth ground together as he focuses on not. letting. go.]
[ G ]
Ah, no thank you...
[Richard murmurs a polite, if decidedly exhausted refusal. This one chef has continued offering him culinary creations to try, and the ordeal combined with the awful smell of less-than-delectable seafood has left Richard looking a bit pale around the gills. He's tired, and he's hungry, but there's no possible way that he can partake of any of this. The chef may even mean well, but Richard simply isn't willing to risk it.]
[Another platter is thrust under his nose, and this time Richard is forced to stand, backing away quickly from the offensive dish. Perhaps he should be watching where he's going as he continues inching away, a weary smile plastered on his face.] I apologize, but you'll have to excuse me.
