Writing today. I didn’t have much time to draw or practice animation.
Since I decided to change third person POV to first, I was able to move important ‘discoveries’ earlier and move the story faster. I was pleased with that, but as a result a lot of sections needed some serious ironing out to flow more smoothly.
Today, I was an iron and wrote this scene in.
Excerpt from Chapter 12:
The scent of jasmine wafted off the candles and filled my room. Tying my curls up to a bun, I removed my dress and tested the water temperature with my toes. It was gloriously hot, just as I needed after what had happened at the Hall.
I still was not certain what to make of it. Why had the Princess’ personal bodyguard gone to all that trouble to leave me a warning? It was almost as though I was a threat, some dangerous criminal against whom he must protect her.
This was Princess Manola–the leader of the secret society connected to my parents’ death. Should I not be the one in need of protection?
I walked into the tub, waited until my skin adjusted to the heat, before merging with the welcoming warmth. I lay there in baffled silence, resting my neck over the edge of the wooden tub and closing my eyes. The soapy water smelled of candlewood and I scooped it up before pouring over my shoulders with careless abandon. My mind wandered to Faziel’s assessment on the murder.
I, too, had always wondered about the difference in the way my parents had ended. Was Mother the only one who had fought the intruder? She alone bore the repeated stabbing. Where had Father been? Their bodies had fallen near each other, so clearly he had been with her. Captain Kirnak’s report described multiple dagger wounds all over Mother’s chest, a suspected result of uncontrollable outrage for the clear lack of method in the delivery.
I cringed at the thought. How much pain had Mother suffered before death came to save her?
I could not imagine such things without feeling ill. Straightening up and opening my eyes, I lifted my hands out of the water to watch the murky liquid pool in the valleys of my palms. Tiny scars adorned my flesh where the roses’ thorns had cut. They were mine but I could not help see the scars that had covered my brother’s frail body. Plio. How much pain had he suffered to have witnessed the killing, alone and terrified, and without means to stop all?
I wished I could stop these thoughts. Imagining their pain, past or present, would do me no good. I had no idea how to stop thinking so I slid into the water and stayed. Heavy silence claimed my senses in a strangely comforting clutch. I stared at the ceiling through the rippling surface. It danced in sync with the distant echoes of the music from the Hall. The soapy water began to sting my eyes but I let it. Let me feel your pain. All. Let me take it all away. I remained so for as long as my breath could hold. Physical pain was bearable. It perfectly compensated for the one I could not touch.
I closed my eyes. A moment longer. I could take it. I could…
I came out with a gasp. Air surged into my lungs and opened me up. I waited until I could breathe properly before resting my head against the tub to seize my calm. Stay strong, Haisma. I would. I must.
For everybody’s sake, I must.
Why am I doing this? Click here.