Tales from the Azure Archipelago [Solo]

Tales from the Azure Archipelago [Solo] Jul 25, 2023 1:31:43 GMT -5

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Post by Gray on Jul 25, 2023 1:31:43 GMT -5

Writing prompt #1:
Does your character have any moles, birth marks, or beauty spots? Where? Describe them.
Character: Gray

“Gray? You are bleeding.”

The man reached behind his head, and his fingers came back red. Just like before. “Bandage,” he ordered. He knelt on the shore. He stared ahead, until he felt Nina's hand pressing a wad of cloth against the nape of his neck. “Nightmare?” The young painter asked.

“I do not remember much.” The man replied. He hoped that the girl hadn't felt his shudder. Nina stayed there, by his side, her fingers warm and steady on the cloth. As the protege had found out, Gray would not suffer any pressure against his old injury. Soaking up the blood like this was as much as he would let her do. After a while, careful not to catch any of the scarred edges, Nina checked if the bleeding had stopped. While her hands re-folded the bandage to expose a dry side, her eyes remained affixed to the wound. It was about the size of a large coin, with jagged edges that sunk it into the skin almost to the spine. In places, the thick scar tissue cracked and bled anew. Yet even through the blood, its shape was unmistakable: the outline of a gear. “Does it hurt?” Nina asked.

“I am not sure,” Gray said. His eyes widened at the touch. “Usually...not if...I don't...think about it.” He spoke, staring right ahead. The morning light reflected in a thin waterfall. So much for planning a shower.

“Does this hurt?”

There was a finger prodding his shoulder. It brushed lightly across his spine, all the way to his left hip and obi-belt. Gray nearly burst into laughter when he realized what she was tracing. A white line, one of three criss-crossing his back

“No. That does not hurt at all.”

“Sword?” She asked.

“Whip.”

There was silence, as Nina processed that answer. “Your old master?” she asked. “Is this why you don't like getting angry?” She whispered.

Gray debated obfuscating, but she had inherited his powers and deserved to know.

“One reason among others.”

He raised a finger, careful that the motion did not move his neck.

“Pretty pitiful for the Master of the Clocktower. The strikes did not even break ribs. Now, this on the other hand...” He felt Nina tense behind him as he pressed a finger to his chest. For an assassin with his long career, courtesy of the magic, Gray had a surprisingly small number of bruises. But this particular one covered half of his chest. “This is a piece of art.” Nina swallowed hard. The patch of yellowed skin had once healed but, just like the back of his neck, the mind brought it back to the surface. Thankfully, his ribs remained unbroken. His flat voice continued. “It's like gold that's been hammered into place by sheer determination.” The bandage shook against his neck. He remembered being forced to breathe. “By hope. Hundreds. Thousands of ti-”

“I am sorry, ALL RIGHT?”

Behind him, Nina was crying. Sorry for saving his life? Ah, he had hurt her yet again. Gray paused.

“It is my favourite mark.” He said.

Tales from the Azure Archipelago [Solo] Jan 2, 2024 10:12:46 GMT -5

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Post by Nina on Jan 2, 2024 10:12:46 GMT -5

Writing prompt #2
Hair is not character. However, it can show something unexpected or unusual about your character. Write a scene featuring your character’s hair, without relying on the usual tropes (length, color etc.).

What meaning is there in a language no longer spoken?

Nina wrapped her arms around her knees. The waterfall fell heavily on her shoulders. Its din turned to silence in her ears. Normally, the girl would have done her washing quickly, a brush with soap-flower over her skin before running off to work. But today, Nina had decided that she would wash her hair proper.

To the Sea-People, their hair ornaments are part of their soul. They are cherished and guarded. One might be in the nude with a lover, or many, but one is not fully naked until they take off their beads. One should not do that in front of anyone, unless they trust the other with the self they keep unspoken.

For the beads, feathers, and so on, are more than trinkets and beauty. They are a code. They speak of one's clan, travels, achievements and beliefs. Nina gazed through water at the flat stone nearby where she had arranged hers in order, like the rays of the sun. 'Born on the pirate ship The Paper Boat, I have travelled far. I am a travelling painter with magic in my veins-' The beads were a language. There are rules for their order alongside a braid, for what they are made of, for the number of hair strands in a braid and the manner it was woven. Flexible rules, and variable between lands, but rules nevertheless.

The bead-language of the Sea-People is kept secret. For the Sea-People are strangers on whichever shore they land their beautiful ships, and so they stick together. An insult, a cry for help, an offer of marriage, can happen with a simple twisting of beads under one's fingers. But what is the meaning of a secret when you are the only one who remembers it?

Nina did not know.

The water poured down her hair and back. She felt light-headed and cold. She thought how she couldn't exactly remember whether there was a meaning to a triangular bead above a round one. Of how she had not grown up fully in the culture. She thought of how some women looked forward to telling their children the stories of their lost homeland, but Nina felt only dread at the thought of bearing a child.

Can languages die?

Nina's fingers dug in her hair. A corpse, a seagull-picked corpse – was that what she carried?

The girl stood up. Her fists fell like useless rocks by her side. She would wrap her hair in a clean rag to hide it, she knew, and wait until it was dry to weave it again with ribbons and beads.

For it was her soul. To remind her of who she was. And if no one but her could hear it, then she would speak louder.