Blog 11 - Chelsea Southworth

Here's a mostly-unedited excerpt from my NaNo novel. So you're not extremely confused, I'll explain a few things. Elin is our main character, and she is from another land to the north, which I have yet to name. She and two other girls (Keera, who's also foreign and comes from a culture where women can't do much, and N'hyla) were recently chosen to become novice Artists. All they know is what every common person knows; Artists are inherently gifted people chosen to train at special Academies so they might master their art. Mahayla, Yalohan and R'haylal (yes, yes, I know the names are different) are older Artists who are acting as mentors for the three girls. At this point they're just meeting N'hyla. Again, this is unedited.

“Hello! It’s N’hyla, right?” Mahayla said with her signature beaming smile.

The girl turned her head, her rich brown eyes full of scorn. “...yes.” She seemed cautious, almost wary, about Mahayla’s beaming happiness. It was like N’hyla was worried that that cheerfulness was a contagious disease, and the more she interacted with one who was ill the more likely she would be to catch it.

Elin could almost understand, but not completely; while she (and everyone else, really) knew how jarring it was to be approached by someone bursting with boundless enthusiasm that she didn't share, it was still nice to be approached by someone friendly at all. It was much better than the alternative of being spoken to by someone mean spirited or out to cause you harm.

“Did a camel spit on you or something?” R’haylal asked with a grin.

She sighed almost wearily. “No, I just don’t have patience for your kind of people. Never have, never will.”

“Our kind?” he replied, raising an eyebrow. “The kind that’s friendly and amazing?”

“No.” Her words were short. “The kind that think everything can be made okay with happiness, that a cheerful smile will make everyone friends, and that the world is filled with rain showers.”

Mahayla gave a heavy sigh. “N’hyla, at least give us a chance before hating us. I can’t help but be nice to people, and neither can my brother though he’s quieter about it, but R’haylal can be mean if you give him a chance. I don’t know Elin or Keera that well but I’m sure they can be too. I just thought it would start us off on the right foot if I was friendly.”

“Whatever. I’m just here for the free meals and housing; I don’t give a damn about art.”

Mahayla and Yalohan shared a look, but all the older girl said was, “I won’t hold you to that.”

There was a stifled silence after that. Keera was clearly too shy to say anything, the three older ones had gotten drawn into another conversation by a friend, and N’hyla was gazing at the splendor around her, so it fell to Elin to break the stillness.

“I’m Elin,” she said quietly to N’hyla, offering the girl the slightest of smiles. “I’m not, um, as in your face happy as they are, though they’re really not that bad, I know Mahayla means it well, but...I’m a novice too, I think we’ll be living together or maybe just training together, me and you and Keera, and then those three too, as our mentors...you’re from around here, right?”

Gods, the rambling, and she hoped the other girl wouldn’t take her question poorly, but she thought it was a reasonable assumption that N’hyla was Allahalean, since her skin neither had the golden, coppery look of Keera’s nor the peachy color that was common in her own land.

N’hyla rolled her eyes, but the barest smile touched her lips. “You’re extremely awkward. Has anyone ever told you that before?”

“Ahaha, yes. Often.” She fiddled with the ends of her rich red hair, knowing how much her mother would hate it, but it was a nervous tick she just couldn’t get rid of. “Um, you’re extremely blunt. Has anyone ever told you that before?”

She rolled her eyes again and gave a huffing sigh. “No. Never. And I am from Allahalea. You must be from up north.”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “How’d you know? Couldn’t be my ridiculously red sunburn.”

“You should put some salve on that,” said a voice in a whisper so soft they almost didn’t hear it. The two girls turned their heads to see Keera blinking at them shyly. Apparently R’haylal and Yalohan had moved far enough away for her to be able to talk. “Or wear a veil next time you go out in the sun. My skin is probably not as sensitive as yours, but I know how badly it hurts to have the sun burn you.”

“Oh wow, why didn’t I think of doing that, a veil would help so much...it was probably because hardly anyone else was wearing one.”

“You’ll get used to it,” N’hyla said, almost scornfully. “Either that or you’ll be one of those red faced foreigners for the rest of your life, and you don’t want that, believe me.”

“Why not?” she asked curiously. She’d be obviously foreign no matter what, by sheer virtue of her coloring and accent.

“If you’re red faced, you’re new to here and an idiot, so everyone who’s up to no good will target you. If you’re pale but look like you know what’s going on, they’ll assume you know what’s going on and leave you mostly be.” She shrugged. “Carrying weapons works too.”

Keera looked appalled by that, giving her head a tiny shake. “Good women don’t carry weapons; they have men to protect them.”

“Not here, hon. Gods, this is going to be rough for you.” N’hyla grinned a wolfish grin. “I can’t wait.”