#quinn harding

[authoralexharvey]

Happy sts! If you have multiple WIPs, which would you most like to live in? If you don't, which character of yours would you most like to live with?

-nova

Happy STS! Thanks for the ask!!

So the answer is somewhere in the middle, as a good number of my projects take place in the same universe! That said, I think I would pick the time ASMLP is set... and probably in the country of Vahn, which is across the world (I think, I need to double check my map) from the setting of ASMLP lmao. I'd go to Vahn because it's very Greco-Roman and I want to go to Greece someday. I'd pick the time of ASMLP as it's more modern. It's like... sixties, seventies maybe in terms of technology and society, so it wouldn't feel so alien and weird to be there. Plus at this point Vahn as a country would have greatly settled down, politically.

As for characters, I think I would live with... I'd either end up living with Simone or with Quinn and Lorne. Quinn and Lorne would make the best food and also live in Vahn (but like.... several hundred years ago so rip) or Simone is a super chill and nice person and would mostly be focused on their studies so we'd just. Exist in the same space doing our own things. That said, Simone lives in Mertaln, so.... that would take some working out lmao

Thanks again for the ask!

[authoralexharvey]

NaNo Excerpts - Day Four

I did write (some) smut today, but mostly I just wrote anxiety-riddled nonsense lmao.

Day Four - 1,828 words (5,904 words total)

“Right.” I wait several seconds, as if I’m thinking it over. Instead, I’m trying to figure out how fast I can safely escape this building. “Is this all you wanted to see me for?”

A grin stretches across his face. “Yes. Think it over, won’t you? It’s good pay for good, honest work. I’m sure you can appreciate it.”

“I could.” If it was. My chair screeches along the floor, cutting off whatever the Duke is preparing to say next. “Thank you, but I must decline.”

In a heartbeat, his face contorts. His cheeks pinken with rage. “You’re... you’re refusing?”

“Please, have a nice night.” It takes more will than I thought I had to make my words come out even. “And you as well, Major.”

Muffled voices sound the moment I step into the main hall. I don’t stop to listen. Lorne is where I left them on the first floor, hair trailing over the back of their chair. A bowl of half-eaten grapes sits beside them. Without slowing, I grab them and try to haul them up.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Their eyes are wild and white. They stumble along after me. “Wait!”

“Come on.”

“Quinn.”

If not for the edge to their words, I wouldn’t stop. It’s not the tone they use in the bedroom. It’s harsher. Frustrated.

“What happened?”

My arms fall to my sides. “We should talk about it outside.”

Their eyebrows almost fade into their hairline. What the fuck, they project to me, and it takes a moment to realize our minds have connected.

Please. Outside. I can’t be in here another second. 

Without a word, they pull me for the exit. The doors slam shut behind us.

“What was that about?” 

I shake my head. “No. Not yet.” My breaths are shallow. I grip the front of my chiton and try to force a deeper inhale. “We have to go home.”

Despite my panic, despite Lorne’s concern, despite the way my bones have turned to gelatin, I dare a glance back. There, at a second story window, a shadow stares down at us. My blood runs cold. It’s the Duke. As I quicken my pace, he raises what looks like a glass and tips his head.

[authoralexharvey]

NaNo Excerpts - Day Three

Today sucked, but at least I wrote some shit. And I’ve been corrupted and convinced to write more smut. But I haven’t gotten that far yet lmao so take this instead.

Day Three - 1,496 words (4,076 total)

The second floor of the capital building overlooks the first. Along the balcony is a series of doors, each one bearing its own marble plaque. While most are the same size and color, a set of red double doors is what I’m pulled towards. As we get closer, I regard the red and gold emblem. The Duke’s office. At roughly chest-height is a large, golden knocker. The attendant takes it in both hands. The sound they produce rattles my bones.

Seconds tick by. The attendant reaches for the knocker again, but the door opens the instant they touch the metal. They remain frozen, arm in midair, as a shorter figure with a thick mustache steps into view. Wireframe glasses sit atop their thin nose, as if dancing on the edge of a knife. They adjust their glasses and look me up and down.

“Thank you, Sotiria,” they say after a long pause. I’ve heard this voice before at local symposiums. His inaugural speech lingers in the edges of my memory. Still, Elias Socranos II is shorter than I’d imagined.

“Quinn Harding, as requested.”

“Mind fetching us drinks? Is wine okay with you?”

The latter question is to me, I realize as he continues to stare. Red-cheeked, I dip my head in bashful agreement.

“Right away, Your Grace.” 

Sotiria sweeps past, the scent of lilacs and tea clinging to their clothes. I listen to their footfalls and the distant tinkling of water until the Duke begins shifting on his feet.

“Won’t you come in?”

“Of course.”

His robes rustle with every movement, a blue-ish purple with golden trim. In the semi-darkness of his office, a single lamp on the far wall casts a weak glow. Mounds of shadow fill the space.

With the snap of his fingers, a second lamp sparks to life above us. A third light in another corner joins the fray. Now I can piece together the specifics of the room - in time for the door to shut and lock behind me. The Duke moves for his desk, gesturing to a chair in front of it as he does. I step over small piles of books and papers and knee-height scrolls.

“Sit, if you will.”

The leather exhales as I comply, as though burdened by my weight. The room is dizzingly small - smaller than I’d expected for the Duke of a city state. He pinches the wick of an unlit candle between us. At once, flames leap from his fingers.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here,” he says as the candle’s flame begins to dance. Shadows warp his face in half-second patterns my skin crawls at the sight of. A slender eyebrow arches as he waits for my reply.

[authoralexharvey]

Hello, dear! You've been visited by the random character question fairy! :D ~☆

What is your character's type or archetype? (For example: the Fool, the Lover, the Fighter, etc.) Why do they fit this archetype?

Hi and thanks for the ask!!

I'd definitely have to think more on some characters but

Quinn is an odd mix of the Hero and the Innocent - and I mean this in all fondness. I modeled their anxiety and behaviors off my own, tuned up to the nth degree. They're scared of just about everything at this point and it's a major character arc of theirs to overcome some of this fear and be a more stable person all around. That said, they strive to do the most good they can throughout the course of the story, in spite of this.

Jayashekar is 100% the Jester, no contest. And he uses this humor to mask some really deep and severe insecurities.

Dakota is gonna be an Everyman, though the absolute ends of her character arc - extending past her novel, even - has her slowly transition into a Sage type. She's very knowledge-driven but in terms of TWEfA, she's the most "average" character - and that's why she was included, cause she contrasts so well to a literal God and a woman unlearned her cultish upbringing.

I think Evelyn is an odd mix of Everyman and Caregiver. Aside from being a necromancer, she's pretty insignificant in the grand scheme of things. She also ends up throwing herself into situations that are to her detriment...all of the time.

Yvette is a Lover, pushed to corrupted lengths. She would do literally anything for her sister... and for LVM, she does.

Anddddd that's all I can think of right now. Thanks for the ask!!

[lilac-written]

What We’re Left With - Excerpt

This is what happens when I wake up with an idea. 

@junekinn hey look it’s your son.

“Like the mask? I made it myself.”

“It’s...” I pause, scouring my brain for the right word. “Certainly unique.”

That’s a nice way to put it, Lorne says to me in my head.  

“And more sanitary than animal heads. I mean, of course, you both fit yours nicely. Must have cost a pretty penny. Or been friends with a taxidermist. I never really knew much about you two.”

“I’m sorry.” Lorne’s arm sweeps in front of me for a heartbeat before dropping again. “Have we met?”

The stranger touches their chest and, though I can’t see their face, I can imagine the pseudo-shocked expression they’d make. “I’m almost insulted, Lorne. But.. It's been a year and a half, I suppose.” They turn their head and I see the beginnings of long, black hair. From the shadows comes a second stranger, one that offers a bowl of watered-down wine to the first. “Thank you, Ronne,” they say to the second stranger.  

I look them up and down. Certainly not a local, based on their garb. A deep purple poncho is hardly symposium-appropriate attire. But unlike their companion, their animal head is real... and ghastly. Griffon feathers tickle their neck when they turn their head.

“Surprised you got a griffon head around here,” I say, gears in my brain still turning. Patriotism, maybe? It was Latuka’s animal mascot, after all.

Ronne turns to me. “It’s one of mine. I run an aviary.”

“An... honorable profession.” The longer I stand here, the stronger the urge to run away becomes. I grab Lorne’s hand to ground myself.

“You could check it out sometime, if you like. Right near the docks.” Ronne sidles closer to the stranger in the paper mask, until their hands almost touch. “I’m sure Jaya here would be more than happy to--”

They grab Ronne’s hand hard enough their knuckles pale, but I’ve stopped paying attention. The mention of their name has wakened something in me. Feelings I can’t describe bubble to the surface.  

Lorne must feel it too, because through our bond comes waves of confusion and realization that are too strong to be my own.

“J-Jaya?” I say at last. “Like... Jayashekar?”

“It took you a while to recognize me. I should be hurt.” He leans closer and drops his voice so I have to strain to hear. “Though, it would behoove you to not speak my name so loud.”

“B-but you were taken away!” My shock brings me a step backwards. “I saw you! We didn’t hear from you and thought...”

“I’m not dead, if that’s what you worried about. They wanted to kill me, I bet. They’ll still want to now.” He tips his head back, exposing the hint of a gold chain I don’t recognize.

[draconako]

Writing - May 5th

"I knew you would come around." He pushes back from his chair and stands.  

"Not like there was another choice."

The corners of his mouth twitch. "No, I suppose not."

And with that, he crosses the room, surges up the stairs, and shoves at the exit.

By the time anyone speaks, the torches are flickering more often, the light they cast increasingly dim. Though my eyes adjust, it's soon difficult to make out Lorne's features.

"So," says Tantirell, voice echoing off the walls. "This is what we're left with."

A torch by her head dies with a hiss, spraying ashes with its last breath. Stray embers sizzle on the table.

"Yes," Lorne replies. "I suppose it is."

"I can't say I like it..." She stands. "But it's the fate we've been handed." Her mouth is pinched as she looks around the room. "In any case... I'm going to rest, and you should, too."

With that, she moves to a secluded corner of the room and lies down, seeming to vanish into the shadows. It's not long before Vangelica and Aretena do the same. Three sets of gentle breathing soon fill the air.  

Then there's Lorne, Jayashekar, and I. Alone.

[draconako]

Based on my friend, who’s in the middle of preparing an LGBTQ+ - oriented online store...

What scents remind you of your characters?

I think Lorne would smell more woodsy. Dakota would smell like ashes and snow. Not wet ash, though. Quinn would probably smell like lavender and lemon and peppermint.

So what about your characters? What do they smell like?

[draconako]

Find the Words Tag Game

@enasroterfaden asked for me to find “color” and/or “chase” in my manuscript, so here I go!

Both excerpts are from To Our Own Devices.

Color

The brick walls must be enchanted to keep the sound of the city out, as it’s not until I’m beyond the doors that I hear the cacophony that is the residents. Horses whine from all directions. People’s voices weave together in a song that I can’t begin to comprehend. The buildings themselves are all in colors that scream with the sun: blue and gold and white so bright it burns my retinas. The first thought in my mind is: Jayashekar was right.

The main road stretches out in front of us like an all-too-illuminated corridor, seemingly endless in its mass of stalls and civilians. The sea of colors tempts me to jam the heels of my hands over my eyes, if only to stop all the visual noise, but I refrain.

Chase

“In a city like this, you don’t just chase every person with a promise of attention.” Her hand closes around my arm and she tugs hard enough to hurt.

Tagging....

@junekinn @ciphertext-x @asablehart @beronikakeres @littlehexboy see if you can find “blood” and/or “fire” in your manuscripts! Only if you want to, of course.