#wakefire

[funkyfeannag]

NEW LADY MAISERY AND JIMMY AND SID ALBUM NEW LADY MAISERY AND JIMMY AND SID ALBUM THIS IS NOT A DRILL

[karriezai]

Out of Context

I was tagged by @writingamongther0ses! Thank you! :D

Content warning for language, calling a female character a b**ch, and a character urinating. (In a toilet. Nothing overly weird. Lol.)

The interpreter appears, moving so that the doorway frames him, and then glances between the bitch and Khatien. “Looks like the AC’s broken,” he signs. No clue whether they’re his words or hers. “It must be forty degrees in there. Did you get any sleep?”

Khatien only grimaces. Ancestors, he needs to take a piss—and judging by the rumbling in his stomach, once the pressure in his bladder is relieved he’ll be fucking starving.

On the plus side, there’s enough power flowing through him now, trapped by the blanket, that he’s edging on uncomfortably warm. He sits up and readjusts the blanket over his shoulders, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. His breath clouds out, a thicker white now that hot energy floods his veins.

Out of the corner of his eye, the interpreter’s mouth moves. As if an afterthought, the man signs, “Let me.” He moves to take the bitch’s spot at the control display.

Too much effort to catch his attention. Khatien shrugs and crosses to the bathroom, shutting the door and then gradually pushing out his power to raise the ambient temperature. In the smaller space, it’s pretty effective; it takes less than a minute to generate enough heat to comfortably take a piss.

A phantom flash of light and buzzing feeling washes through Khatien—he closes his eyes and fights sudden wooziness. Words rise in his mind, like the memory of reading a message on his comm, except entirely unwelcome. »Are you okay in there?

He ignores them, easing his eyes open as he shakes off and pulls his waistband back into place—and great. Looks like he missed the toilet a little. He grits his teeth.

Fucking bitch and her stupid neuro-comm.

I’ll tag (no pressure whatsoever): @gardenofstories, @starlitpromises-writings, @akindofmagictoo, and @magic-is-something-we-create

[karriezai]

Last Line Tag Game

I was tagged by @writingamongthecoloredroses! :D Yay, thank you!

The end of chapter 5:

Khatien holds his palm up close to the display. Channeling his power one direction or another is simple, but it’s a slightly different flex of his mental muscles to completely relax his control at the specific point of his palm.

After a tiny initial burst of fiery sparks, a hot white streak arcs from his skin to one corner of the screen.

It shorts out, flickering black and staying that way this time, but the door doesn’t budge an inch.

Fuck.

It was a long shot, but the failure still settles heavily in the pit of Khatien’s stomach. What’s he supposed to do now?

And the fucking air conditioner’s still pumping away. Without a task to focus him and hot power coursing through his veins, the cold air of the room cuts down to Khatien’s bones.

He digs in the dresser for a sweater, then buries himself under the blanket on the bed. Between the harsh temperature and his racing thoughts, he doesn’t expect sleep to come easy.

He’s not sure he wants it to. If ever there were a night for nightmares, it’s tonight.

I tag: @writeremma, @akindofmagictoo, @magic-is-something-we-create, and @concerningwolves. No pressure, of course! And if you just wanna do this, tag me when you post! Looking forward to reading what you’ve been up to :D

[karriezai]

Last Line Tag Game

Thank you @writingamongthecoloredroses for the tag!

These are the last two paragraphs of chapter 4. They’re from the same chapter as the last time I did this, just at the end instead of midway, so they should have a similar feel.

Hours later, breaking into his leftovers in his own apartment, a thought stops Ror. Neither of them considered, even for a second, the idea of somehow preventing the mission. Though he’s confident Seris would agree that it’s not a danger Khatien should be forced into, period, the concept that either of them might have the power to stop it from moving forward is laughable.

Unease washes through Ror. The discomfort of powerlessness. How much good can they really do? There’s still the very real risk that Khatien will share his mother’s fate, and there’s precious little Seris can do about that… and nothing Ror can do at all.

I’ll tag @celestialcontrail, @magic-is-something-we-create, @klywrites, and @bookshop-cryptid (as well as anyone who just wants to participate!) 

No pressure if this isn’t your thing!

[karriezai]

Manuscript Search Tag Game

Thank you @gardenofstories ​ for the tag! 

Find in your manuscript: free, power, kill, nothing

I haven’t made a ton of progress on the latest draft of Wakefire, but I did do some writing this morning! I found two of these words in the chapter and a half I have so far haha. The other two I’ll pull from the last draft. (You might notice that I switched to present tense for the new draft. I might be a bit of a masochist.)

Free (from the older draft):

On the other side of the glass, Emry was tucked under Zekiah’s arm, face buried against his chest. Khatien hesitated two steps into the room. Risky couldn’t see his face, but his frame was drawn so tight a touch could shatter him. Zekiah, eyes red-rimmed and glossy, lifted his free arm to gesture Khatien close. 

That was all it took. Khatien crossed to his side and melted to his knees, fitting himself under Zekiah’s arm. They held each other, trembling with grief, until broken, discordant sobs shook loose of one or all of them.

Power (new draft)

Ror’s not used to switching gears from hearing to signed syntax, which makes him slow and awkward, and yet the implant in his wrist still heats to the edge of discomfort. He thought he could disperse that heat almost subconsciously now, but with interpretation splitting his focus, it’s not so easy to regulate the power generated by the implant.

Kill (old draft)

“They didn’t stop oncoming traffic, and the ramps on the other side of the gridway aren’t blocked,” Yuri said. “If you time it well…”

Risky glanced over her shoulder at him, wide-eyed, but then her eyes narrowed and she focused on the controls. “Fuck you, you crazy asshole,” she growled with an undertone of appreciation in her voice.

“Try not to kill us all,” Yuri said cheerfully.

Risky breathed a chorus of shit shit shit under her breath, then commanded, “Brace yourselves!” and the car jerked to the side and arced across oncoming traffic, turned until they were going almost completely the opposite direction—

And then they were flying down an off ramp, the car tilted dangerously to one side as they veered over the edge.

Nothing (new draft):

Nothing happens for a beat, but then the salts catch his inhale and Khatien jerks out of his curled position, coming close to slamming his head into the roof of the car. His cloud of wiry hair squashes against the roof and springs more or less back into place. It takes Ror a second to recognize the fidgety movements of his hands as half-formed signs. His wild stare sweeps over to Captain Mitev and Ror.

I’ll tag: @kessler-writes, @radley-writes, @concerningwolves, @avi-burton-writing, and anyone else who wants to do this!

Find in your manuscript: despise, awkward, exaggerate, shaking

[karriezai]

Last Line Tag

I was tagged by @writingamongthecoloredroses! Thank you, I love these sorts of games! I’m going with the last few paragraphs I’ve written - I’m working on adding new content to a chapter later in my manuscript.

“My name is Rorik Fierti.” The words he’d been trained to use followed easily. “I’m a Ryeshi national, and I want to request my safe return to Ryesh, along with my compatriots.”

Corvin waved the words away. “You know that won’t work. I’m not interested in the back and forth right now. ‘You were here committing espionage, attempting to steal from Esharin.’ Then you say, ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. We were here for blah blah blah legitimate reason.’ No.” He leaned forward, sliding his elbows along the table and steepling his fingers. “I’m more interested in your relationship with the Homesake Journal.”

Ror inhaled sharply, then forced a more natural breath. He didn’t respond.

“I understand your hesitation. I suspect you want to protect your Vaistraka allies, and you think the Gristraka have it out for them. I can assure you that they don’t, and nor does the Intelligence Bureau,” Corvin said. “We have a history of conflict with Ivory, like you; I won’t deny that. But aside from removing your implant, we have done you no harm, and don’t intend to. Particularly if you are here in the capacity I suspect you might be.”

Ror resisted the urge to look at his left wrist, but he did slide it subtly against the table leg. It felt smooth, devoid of the ridges he’d grown used to over the last couple of months. “I don’t—”

Corvin sighed. “Know what I mean, of course.”

Tagging: @space-arcanist @magic-is-something-we-create @jeanthestoryteller @ladytauria @sten-writes @cadewrites @arwallace @starlitpromises-writings @a-smol-biblophile @notquitenovelist @jayuswrites @ruth-lund

Tagging etiquette question - is it weird to tag a non-mutual? hmmmm.

[karriezai]

I commissioned this gorgeous piece from the ultra-talented Hyanide Art! It’s based on a scene late in Wakefire. I’m thrilled with how great it came out!

Hyanide Art Twitter

I’ll share an excerpt from the scene below the cut!

Khatien was teasing that Emry would be glad for any excuse to get out of school when Corvin stiffened. Ror’s attention snapped to him. Nothing had changed in the room and he wasn’t looking at a comm or d-lay, which meant he must have a neuro-comm.

“We have to cut this short,” Corvin said, forced calm lending a hint of tension to his voice.

A muffled shout made it through the door from the hallway.

Corvin pulled a firearm from an ankle holster hidden under his pants and stood. The guard opposite Ror pulled his sidearm, moved around Corvin, and positioned himself against the wall beside the door, weapon slightly raised.

Vapor curled under the door and Corvin grunted, tearing his jacket off and kneeling to press it into the crack.

He didn’t make it that far. He collapsed to the side and the jacket slipped from his fingers.

“Don’t breathe it in!” Ror signed and spoke the warning, then lifted the collar of his shirt over his nose.

The guard went next, sliding down the wall until gravity took full hold of him and he landed with a heavy thud.

Ror grabbed Khatien’s shoulder with his free hand and backed him up against the far wall. It wasn’t enough. His hand slid down Khatien’s chest and he was so far away, and he felt himself falling but couldn’t stop it.

His eyes closed.

And then Ror came to violently, jerking his hands toward the searing sensation in his nose only to discover that his wrists were cuffed. Risky knelt before him, and to the side Yuri leaned over Khatien, who looked as startled and confused as Ror felt.

“Get up,” Risky ordered. “We’re leaving.”

“Why am I cuffed?” And Khatien was cuffed too. Which meant no signing. Shit.

“Because I don’t trust you.” She wasn’t in the green detention clothes anymore; it looked like she’d changed into a Druseval Police uniform. “You have until we meet up with our point pair to convince me you don’t need them. Now. Get. Up.”

Ror stagger-stepped to his feet, whatever gas they’d used hitting his equilibrium hard. Modified sweetsleep? Beside him, Khatien lurched upright and sought his eyes with a wild stare. It took a second to recognize it, but through the limited mobility provided by the cuffs, he was signing an approximation of, “What’s happening?”

“Leave Khatien,” Ror said. The words came almost of their own volition.

Risky yanked his elbow and shoved him toward the door. “You know that’s not happening.”

Ror took a long stride to avoid stepping on Corvin’s unconscious form. What he wouldn’t give to have the neuro-comm back, to be able to address Khatien’s panic even if he couldn’t actually help. On his way out the door, he managed a clumsy semblance of, “Taking us, won’t leave you.”

Seris waited in the hallway with one of the Smoke Two agents, each holding a firearm in ready stance. There was an unconscious cop in the hall who’d been stripped of her coat and sidearm. Seris glanced at Ror’s cuffs with concern clear on her face; Ror wanted to explain all she’d missed, but that wasn’t an option right now.

Khatien stumbled into the hallway behind him. Gods, he was so close to maybe getting out of this mess; Ror could return to Ryesh, face the consequences of defying Risky in the cavern, but Khatien deserved his freedom.

And Corvin’s insinuations during his individual interrogation dug into Ror’s brain: he was an Aug now, and a unique one for having gained this weird healing ability instead of being born with it. Ryesh would dissect him, pull him apart, to try to figure out what had caused that change.

It was what Khatien was afraid they would use him for. He’d said as much to Zekiah. And if Ror had learned nothing else in the last few weeks, it was that the SIA was capable of far worse than he’d ever acknowledged.

Ror walked almost blindly where Risky prodded him. They broke from the familiar hallway between the holding cells and the exam room and turned toward what he assumed had to lead to an exit. “Risky. Leave Khatien,” he tried again, slowing his steps. “He doesn’t know any more than they already do. They’re promising him asylum; let him go.”

But Risky scoffed and shoved his shoulder to propel him forward. “You take their offer of asylum, too? Yeah, I figured. I don’t know what you’ve told them or if they just want you for this new healing thing, but it doesn’t matter. We’ll sort all that out back home.”

She wasn’t wrong. Corvin was manipulative; he could have hinted at the idea that Ryesh would be interested in his new ability to distract from the fact that Esharin wanted him for the same reason. But then, Risky was trying to distract him too.

Ror caught Khatien’s eye and signed as best he could: “Want escape, now is time.”

“Stop that,” Yuri ordered, cracking his forearm against Ror’s to push his hands away. But Ror kept his attention on Khatien, who watched him with a panicked question furrowing his brow.

There wasn’t much Ror could do to help. He exchanged a glance with Seris, trying to communicate without words. She studied his face and ducked her chin slightly, but the hint of confusion in her expression didn’t inspire confidence.

Ahead, the Smoke Team agent turned a corner. Ror signaled to Khatien as discreetly as he could to back up, though he wasn’t sure how much he’d be able to with Yuri at his elbow. But maybe if would be enough if…

Ror rammed his shoulder into Yuri just as he was about to turn the corner, and Khatien pulled back, yanking his arm from Yuri’s slackened grip. Risky cried out and raised her firearm, but Ror transferred his momentum toward her and swung his arms, knocking her hands aside. She didn’t fire, but when Ror straightened there were three weapons trained on him. Four once Risky recovered.

“Let me be clear,” Risky said, her breathing quickened. “We can’t leave you in Esharian control alive, and we’re running out of time to make a clean break. If you fight, I will kill you.”

[karriezai]

last line tag game

@funky-lil-dude tagged me for another round of the last line tag game! Thanks! 

I finished my second revision pass on my manuscript today and sent it to an editor, and in the process wrote a new ending chapter, so these are actually the last few lines of my book! 

Easier said than done. If Sens and the magic she promised were legit, it would complicate things. Plus, Ror had to convince his parents that Esharin wasn’t playing an end game of destabilizing Ryeshi government to swoop in and take control.

And to do that, he had to convince himself, first.

I’m not 100% sold on the ending yet, but that’s part of what the editor is for.

Anyone who wants to do this game definitely should, and consider yourself tagged! But I’ll also tag a couple people I recently followed: @mxxnwrites and @klywrites