wip intro | willows in gold
"Do you trust her?" Damian shouts over to where Yemele kneels in the dirt, her hair a mess, arms up to her elbows smeared with blood.
"No. But I trust her anger."
genre: fantasy, maybe high fantasy
status: writing the sixth draft in five years (help)
"Let me out," whispers the willow. For a few hours, Asja had slept in its endless shadow, but now she's awake and the tree tries to trick her again, just like it did the night before. The bark seems to be moving in waves — like the lake behind it does — and Asja wishes she could give in to its begging.
"Release me and I will end your curse. I can do it. Release me and I will do it."
Asja takes a step forward without actually realizing it. The grip around her knife tightens, making her knuckles turn white and her fingertips red. She knows this small blade won't withstand the wood.
"I am not cursed."
The willow laughs. It's merely a rustling in the wind that's coming from the lake and carries the promise of snow and ice freezing it over.
"A stray daughter? Impossible. The curses stick to them all. And the gold as well."
synopsis: Damian and Asja have been through a lot together. Talking trees, violent kelpies, and other evil things like soldiers or arrest cells — they've seen it all, and successfully weaseled their way out. But this new job brings not the usual disappearing mountain imps, hexed children and dry wells. Nothing that's easy to solve or find or break. This time, they're forced to travel across the continent and right into a kingdom Asja vowed to never set foot into ever again. Soon, Damian begins to wonder; what connects Asja to the capital and why does she fear the ocean? What keeps her from sleeping and why is she adamant in keeping her past a secret? And why does she pick fights with their employer all the time? He doesn't know that the source of it all lays in Sillave, a small peninsula in the south that has recently gained independence — and that Asja is about to reveal his own secret.
Her dreams will start a war between gold and silver, and they're both trapped in the middle.
She can't bear the sun anymore. The blinding gold of its light, the warm brightness that welcomed Asja only moments ago now burns on her skin. Back into the darkness, that's where she wants to go. Friendly, smooth darkness that softens around her, keeps her save, loved, forgotten. Darkness that can't touch her heart and cannot revive the memories. Don't die, yes? Don't. Too little, too late.
snippets:
of saying goodbye
of quarrels and elves
of leaving
of remembering
of hands and heavy heads
