Thank you Dawn Embers for hosting the Word Paint Blogfest! Not only does this fellow blogger have an awesome name, it's Dawn! My middle name :P (My mother called me Andrea (on-dree--uh) Dawn half the time growing up, but when I was 13 and started going by Drea (Dray-uh)the pattern fell away. Besides, Drea Dawn just doesn't sound right...I think it could do as a dinosaur name, though :P Thankfully, didn't figure this out until after 20...otherwise my little brother would likely have had even more fun at expense than he did.
So onto another bit from Silver Mask (or not). I don't count myself a master of description. I think it's one of my weakest areas :( So that's why I signed up! Exercise is good.
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Kyr recognized her instantly. Not who she was, but her title: Taeverai. She crossed under the marble lintel while the servants held wide the bronze doors and he knew. Her long green skirts adorned in ivory and golden embroidery proclaimed her family standing. She was the younger child of Old Ones. The taeree, an apron-like garment few Rextian women still wore, told him she followed the traditions. Her young face belied the age her outfit led him to assume, and then lamplight glinted on her hand. A ring. He didn't need to see it to know what it looked like. All Taeverai had one. A ruby set in gold, etched with one phrase: “Re zath chem.” I know and I listen.
But what was she doing here?
She wore her braids in a tight knot on her head. She was unwed, only two thin braids fell from the bun and down her back. Two jeweled pins glinted in her brown locks. She had stuffed them deep, likely to hide the tarnish. Mothers passed rare items to their daughters, and no Rextian was wealthy enough to buy such pieces new. All Rextian jewelry remaining in the frozen north had been crafted before their ancestors fled the falling kingdom across the seas. Centuries old.
Why here? Why Now?
She curtsied in the Kordic way, reminding him he sat on his throne in Castle Ednin. His hall, where he answered only to the Emperor. He shouldn't know what she was. A Taeverai must have no meaning to him. Her position as the keeper of Rextian knowledge and tradition could not be recognized here. He could not defer to her with the respect her station deserved. No matter what he thought, really thought. More disguise, more lies.
He forced his mouth into the familiar thin line, and pretended he couldn't read the Rextian codes etched into her attire. Only another Rextian would be trained to read those things. She couldn't know. He couldn't let anyone else know.
For Jira, he thought, and assumed the cold, dispassionate posture an outsider would expect of the imposing Lord Kyr Ednin.
###
All right...there might be one solid paragraph or two of description. Do I need more? What else would you like top "see"?
So onto another bit from Silver Mask (or not). I don't count myself a master of description. I think it's one of my weakest areas :( So that's why I signed up! Exercise is good.
###
Kyr recognized her instantly. Not who she was, but her title: Taeverai. She crossed under the marble lintel while the servants held wide the bronze doors and he knew. Her long green skirts adorned in ivory and golden embroidery proclaimed her family standing. She was the younger child of Old Ones. The taeree, an apron-like garment few Rextian women still wore, told him she followed the traditions. Her young face belied the age her outfit led him to assume, and then lamplight glinted on her hand. A ring. He didn't need to see it to know what it looked like. All Taeverai had one. A ruby set in gold, etched with one phrase: “Re zath chem.” I know and I listen.
But what was she doing here?
She wore her braids in a tight knot on her head. She was unwed, only two thin braids fell from the bun and down her back. Two jeweled pins glinted in her brown locks. She had stuffed them deep, likely to hide the tarnish. Mothers passed rare items to their daughters, and no Rextian was wealthy enough to buy such pieces new. All Rextian jewelry remaining in the frozen north had been crafted before their ancestors fled the falling kingdom across the seas. Centuries old.
Why here? Why Now?
She curtsied in the Kordic way, reminding him he sat on his throne in Castle Ednin. His hall, where he answered only to the Emperor. He shouldn't know what she was. A Taeverai must have no meaning to him. Her position as the keeper of Rextian knowledge and tradition could not be recognized here. He could not defer to her with the respect her station deserved. No matter what he thought, really thought. More disguise, more lies.
He forced his mouth into the familiar thin line, and pretended he couldn't read the Rextian codes etched into her attire. Only another Rextian would be trained to read those things. She couldn't know. He couldn't let anyone else know.
For Jira, he thought, and assumed the cold, dispassionate posture an outsider would expect of the imposing Lord Kyr Ednin.
###
All right...there might be one solid paragraph or two of description. Do I need more? What else would you like top "see"?
