PSA + Writing: Anomaly, Not Prodigy

    Going for a record-breaking four posts in the span of just a couple weeks. Although this one isn't just more scribbles.

    I, against my better judgement and probable eventual mental breakdown, am aiming to attempt NaNoWriMo again this year. The project, as you might have assumed by my recent rash of posts, will be (retitled) Anomaly, Not Prodigy. How far I will get I have no idea, because there is a whole bunch of schoolwork I have to do as well.

    But, we shall see what occurs, ne?

    For those curious about following my progress, here's the link to my NaNo page for Anomaly, Not Prodigy, complete with synopsis and Novel Excerpt (that is liable to change). Seeing as NaNo starts tomorrow, the rest of my day is going to be world development cramming and whipping up a few more new characters and just generally attempting to have things as ready as possible.

    http://nanowrimo.org/participants/siani-delaney/novels/anomaly-not-prodigy

    Wish me luck.

    Now for the second portion of this post. I wanted to upload some more writing in case I don't get hardly anything up in November, although if I do manage to scrawl some decent stuff for Anomaly, Not Prodigy, you guys may get a sneak peek at what I hope becomes my next completed novel. (Fingers crossed so hard.)

    This bit is another from my 18 page, Jaz + Renner document that took up much of my attention last week. Spoiler alert but Jaz has just learned that the man who single-handedly trained her into the soldier that she is today, has been killed. His name is Min and she doesn't not take the news of his demise well. Ren is the one to intervene.

    To be on the safe side I'm going to give a slight content warning for brief, mild language (most edited out) and thematic elements. 

    And this scene is subject to change in the near or maybe somewhat far future. Since it's come to my attention that writing Jaz late at night means that she turns out kind of bipolar and since she's not... yeah. Anyways.

    Monsoon season. 

    Never ending rain.

    Always soaked through. Perpetual squishing in her boots.

    Four laps around the path, splashing through puddles, lungs burning.

    Drop at the start line. Thirty push-ups. Back on her feet.

    Run. Fast lap, slow lap. Easy run to a full-out sprint.

    It was late afternoon but it looked like dusk with the heavy cloud cover.

    Rainwater dripped into her eyes, caused her hair to cling to her face, her neck. Jaz flicked strands of auburn back, feeling her tied up hair swing to and fro with her movement.

    Her everything was on fire but she was numb. 

    Not him, not him, not him, not him. The rhythm matched the tempo of her feet as she fled an invisible foe.

    She took the curve too fast, her tennis shoes finding a water-slicked spot and then she was unbalanced, sliding across the spongy surface. Jaz went down hard, wrenching her knee to the side and then gasping in pain when her shoulder and head impacted with almost as much force.

    The rain didn’t slow. Lungs heaving for breath to deal with the pain, Jasmine curled in on herself. Get up. We’re not done yet.

    Roll onto stomach. Shove upwards. Get your good leg under you. Shake it off. Keep going.

    Her knee buckled. Jaz almost went down again, but compensated, panting for breath as she doubled over, hands on her thighs. 

    Jade-green eyes squeezed shut to keep water from streaming in. 

    This wasn’t happened. This hadn’t happened. He would still be there. She’d walk in the bar and he’d wave her over and ask about her missions. His dark eyes would reserve judgment until she’d filled him in and then he’d nod and say “you’re doing well” or “good work” or—or—

    Jaz start a stumbling run again, pain ricocheting through her leg and she didn’t care. She didn’t care. She didn’t care.

    “The Chief Commander agreed that, in the absence of your teammates, one-on-one training would be beneficial to your improvement.”

    “Flicker. As far as you can. Go.”

    “Again.”

    “Again.”

    “Stop. Sleep. We’ll do more tomorrow.”

    “Take the target. I will be here.”

    “You’ve gotten stronger. Go farther.”

    “You’re late. Don’t let it happen again.”

    “You want to be an elite—act like it.”

    “Again.”

    “Use your instincts. Don’t think. React. Come again.”

    “You think you’re that good? Prove it.”

    “Again.”

    “Remain conscious. Losing awareness now will ensure your death and that would be troublesome to me.”

    “How many times have I told you? Pay attention. You want to be the best, then you learn how to protect yourself so you don’t burden your teammates.”

    “Again.”

    “Tell me about your teammates.”

    “Again.”

    “Tell me about your family.”

    “Again.”

    “You have come very far, Jasmine. Good work.”

    She dropped, catching herself with her hands and bent toes inside her shoes. Down. Up. Down. Up. Hard shove off, hand clap, down. Up. Down. Up. Hand behind back, other centered beneath her. Down. Up. Down. Up.

    It’d been last week. He’d caught her in the hall of headquarters last week, curious about her schedule.

    “Sorry, sensei. I’m slated to head out for an investigation at the south border tonight, but I’ll be back in five days and I’ll find you at the Tipping Point so we can catch up.”

    “Very well. Be careful.”

    Idiot. Idiot. Telling her to be careful when she was doing a routine inspection and then—

    Jaz held herself on the up of her push-up, jaw clenched against the way her arms were turning to jelly, trembling from the strain she was putting them under.

    Dead. Dead. Dead, dead, dead.

    Dead like Mio. Dead like Levi. Cold. Stiff. Lifeless. Dead.

    Jaz struggled to get back on her feet. Her knee would be in no condition for anything in a few hours and she didn’t care. She’d been confined to the city-state until further notice anyways. 

    Blast Whitecourt.

    The joint was already stiffening. It protested when the soldier started to run again, breaths coming in jagged gasps, from physical pain, from devastation, from exhaustion, from defeat, from despair.

    Jade-green eyes blinked to keep the pouring rain from blinding her. First curve, straight stretch. 

    She wouldn’t cry. Didn’t know how she could—not after Mio and Levi.

    Why bother. Why bother. What’s the point, if they all die?

    I hate you, Min. I hate you. I hate you. You weren’t supposed to leave. You were more of a dad than anybody else has ever been to me in this city. You saw me for my potential, not for my roots. 

   Second curve, straight stretch, headed back towards the start line. Three more laps. A form in one of their black uniforms, face a pale splotch through the inclement weather, waiting for her.

    Jaz continued her limping run, drawing in a lungful of air through her nose, letting it out through her lips, trying to stem off the stitch forming in her side. 

    It was Renner. Always Renner. Aristocratic features drawn, hands in his pockets.

    “What.” She went down to do her push-ups, arms almost buckling. If she couldn’t run, she’d do this instead.

    “I just got back. Whitecourt told me.” His boots scuffed across the spongy track and he crouched down at her side.

    Jaz didn’t spare him a glance, gaze trained on the ground. Up. Down. Up. Down. Don’t stop. Can’t stop. Don’t stop. Can’t stop. Down. Up. Down.

    “Stop.” There was that voice again, the one that meant Ren wasn’t kidding around. “Jasmine, stop.”

    It went ignored. “What do you want, Mason?” She knew the reversion to his last name would throw him and that would buy her time to finish and get back up to run. Renner was predictable, to her. 

    Ren broke her expectations, this time. There was an irritated huff, then Jaz watched him stand up in her peripherals, and was caught unawares when a heavy boot was planted between her shoulder blades.

    Jaz tried to lock up in time to keep from collapsing, but was too off guard, her senses too dulled by exhaustion and grief to react in time. Ren applied pressure and she buckled, her arms giving out and she hit the ground—again.

    Her earlier impacted shoulder complained against the rough handling.

    Turning her head so she wouldn’t drown, Jaz heaved for air before making to get up again. 

    Ren shoved her back down, merciless. 

    “Get off my blasted case, Mason,” she spat between pants, using her able arm to shove herself away from Renner’s foot and onto her back. 

    Not her brightest idea. Raindrops splattered against her exposed face, blinding in their intensity. Respite came in the shape of Renner Mason leaning over her, his jaw set.

    “No. Get up. You’re going home.” Hard. Unflinching. Adamant.

    “I’m not done.” Sparked temper, unhidden anger.

    “The hell you are. Get on your feet, O’Haire. That’s an order.” Ren reached down to grab her by the collar of her jacket, reminiscent and yet not of a reversed situation years ago, and pulled her up.

    Jaz’s body refused to fight anymore, and all she could manage was to latch onto his wrists, her head lolling backwards at the sudden change in position. Ren dragged her closer, she tried to backpedal, and he just tugged her back again. 

   “Stop. Fighting.” He clipped off the words, dark eyes narrowed. Dangerous. Not someone to cross.

    She couldn’t have been accused of being that smart. “You don’t know anything, Mason. Now get your hands off me.”

    “No. Because the moment I do is the moment you go back trying to kill yourself.”

    Pain burned through her but Jaz only let it fuel the fire. “Did you ever think that maybe right here is where I need to be, Mason? That this is how I deal?”

    “Only those with no one left deal this way. You are not alone.” A small shake punctuated Ren’s heavy tone, as if he were attempting to shake his version of sense into her. 

    Now it wasn’t just pain kindling embers in her chest, but her eyes smarted. “Don’t talk to me about loss, Mason.”

    Thin lips let out a hissing breath and Ren’s fingers tightened further in her jacket. “Listen to yourself, Jasmine. This is not you.”

    “Maybe this is me, you’ve just been too oblivious to notice it in all your fascination with the runt of the pack,” Jaz sneered, bitter, lashing out in the only way she had left. “The little mongrel that Daddy said you weren’t allowed to play with. Ever think of that with that genius brain of yours? Maybe you didn’t care because why should you? The daughter of the drunk and the whore, the only one to not put you on a pedestal.”

    Stop. Stop talking. Stop.

    Ren slapped her.

    The air left her lungs at the blow, head turned from the low force of it. She swallowed, then found her face brought back around by cold fingers grasping her chin. Jade-green eyes flickered upwards.

    “If you,” the temperature felt like it dropped when Renner posed the words to her, deadly calm and his eyes frigid. “Dare to insinuate that you are only a fascination to me again, you will find yourself alone, Jasmine O’Haire.”

    That killed any remnant of fight left in her. Jaz felt like a cork had been pulled and now her every wayward emotion was emptying from her with a speed that made her already shaky legs impossible to stand on.

    Renner’s hold on her jacket was released as he grabbed her upper arms, keeping her upright. The ice had disappeared—that was a scare tactic she did not need to see from him again anytime soon—and her longtime friend was there to support her.

    “You need to go home,” Ren murmured, helping her regain her feet. 

    Jaz nodded, tremulous, deflated, ready to drop again at a moment’s notice, and clung to his arms, needing the grounding effect just feeling him there brought.

    Not gone. 

    Not yet.

    “You can’t go anywhere.” Jaz lifted her head to plead with him, jade-green eyes shadowed in her grief. “You can’t go anywhere, Ren. I can’t—not again. Not anymore than this.”

    Ren pushed back one response, then shook his head. “I will do the best I can.”

    And that was it. She knew that would be all he would give her, because they both knew what their line of work meant, how dangerous it was.

    How many losses there were, even in times of peace.

    “I will carry you. You are not strong enough to flicker and you’ve injured your knee.” The business-like tone was chosen to draw her from her thoughts, distract her.

    Jaz wanted to kick up a fuss. The retorts were there, ready to be used, but she couldn’t get her brain to connect to her tongue. So she just sagged in Renner’s supportive grip, awaiting whatever decisions he came to.

    Just like he had done with her, when his own grief had propelled him to her door.

    Rain continued to pour down around them. Fitting, considering, but she wished it would stop. 

    Maybe if the sky would stop crying, then she could do so instead.

    I ended up liking this scrawl quite a lot, myself, although I mentioned Ren's rough handling to my sister and she did that disapproving brow pinch and said that there had to be a more chivalrous way for him to handle the situation.

   Unfortunately for her, chivalrous and gentlemanly is one of the first things on the list of "This Will Not Work When it Comes to Jasmine O'Haire". Even more so when she's in this state of mind. 

    At any rate, this will be October's last post, and I do hope to see you all in November, to update you on my NaNo progress if nothing else. 

    Thank you for reading! 

    Ad astra per aspera.

    To the stars, through difficulties.

Writing: Abnormality, Not Prodigy + Introducing Ren

    I guess this project is going to remain "Abnormality, Not Prodigy" for the next while, until another stroke of (hopefully better) genius strikes me. Suggestions are always welcome, if you happen upon an easier variation that doesn't clog up the mouth so much.

    So, a short post, just as a heads-up. I created a new character to weave into Jasmine "Jaz" O'Haire's story. And I love him to pieces. Because he's amazing and turned out to be just what Jaz needed if she were ever to settle down. Which she does, spoiler alert. 

    This scrawl is liable to change in the future as I work out the kinks in the timeline and Jaz's reactions to certain changes in her life. And if I probably didn't make it clear, this is Renner and Jaz's first meeting.

    In a hospital, of course.


    Jaz was quiet—displeased, unhappy, sulky—as the orderly wheeled her into her new hospital room. Seventy-hours in intensive care had gotten her to a point where they were comfortable with moving her to a regular room. 
    She was mad. Mad she’d let that guy close, mad she hadn’t realized the knife had been laced with poison, mad her team had had to carry her sick, feverish body back to Busan, where she’d been promptly admitted to a sterile prison and chained to one bed or another by her own weakness.
    It took her a minute to realize that the other bed in the room—the one nearer the window that was letting streams of bright sunshine in to paint the floor and brush the walls—was occupied. But there was no time to study her new roomie because her wheelchair came to a halt beside her newest cage. 
    “Alright, up we get,” the orderly was a middle-aged man, who, while pleasant, took way too much satisfaction from doing his job. He slid his arms under hers and used the positioning to hoist her up onto her feet, cautious of the IV taped to the skin of her forearm.
    Jaz could do very little to even help keep her upright. The poison had been fast acting and merciless. It’d ravaged through her and the doctor had said that she was lucky that she’d gotten to them when she had. Having to throw her own strength into flickering home had only sped the toxin’s effects.
    He maneuvered the wheelchair out of the way with one foot, bracing his arm around her back to support her while flipping the covers back. Jasmine sagged back against him, face burning with shame at being unable to do something so simple as stand. The final humiliating blow was when he scooped her up—bridal style—to deposit her with care amongst the starched sheets.
    It was mortifying, she was mortified, and knew it would show, which made nothing about her situation easier to handle. 
    Orderly Matt just smiled, pulled the blankets up to her collarbone, and went about connecting her to the heart-rate monitor. The IV bag was transferred from the rod on the wheelchair to a wheeled stand beside the monitoring devices, the appropriate cords being shifted and plugged in.
    The young soldier sat in stiff silence until he finished, jade eyes fixed on a spot on the opposing wall.
    “The doctor will be by to check on you later.” Was his closing remark as he left, taking the wheelchair with him and making sure to close the door behind himself.
    Jaz lifted a shaking hand to drag it over her face, struggling to sit up. They’d been gone two months and she’d already almost gotten herself killed trying to prove herself to her new team, despite her placement with them only being temporary. Her anger caved in to exhaustion, loneliness welling up in its wake.
     The tube for her IV drip dragged across the folds in her covers as she wrapped her arms around her legs and leaned her forehead into her knees, tremors whispering through her body, mocking her weakness. 
     She was stronger than this, she knew she was. She’d made it so far without them and she was going to do it again. Becoming special forces was something she had decided to do, something that she would have to do on her own strength. 
    Zack and Dan not only had potential, but a pedigree to match. They had been chosen to receive special training because of it. 
    Jaz wasn’t special, she didn’t have the same blue blood as most, but she would become the best that she could be. It would just take a bit more time and determination for her.
    Lifting her head with a steadying breath, Jasmine blinked the slight moisture from her eyes. And glanced towards the window. And startled to find a gaze trained on her profile. Then Jaz felt like hitting herself upside the head for forgetting about her roomie.
    It only took her a moment to sort through who he was, jade eyes taking in unkempt black hair and equally dark eyes before placing him in her memories. Two years ahead of her class, from a very wealthy and very old family, known for being well ahead of his own age group. Renner Mason, in all his… pale, pained, somewhat pathetic glory.
    “Wow.” First word in her head, not necessarily her first choice of things to actually say. 
    Her roomie’s expressionless visage shifted into a frown.
    Jaz blinked, then shrugged. “Sorry. I’m surprised they put commoners with the nobility. I might give you poverty, you know.” She said poverty as a seven-year-old might say “cooties” and took some pleasure out of the line that appeared between his brows.
    Because flummoxing one of Busan’s top minds could only be a bright spot in her day. Maybe even her week, considering how said week had been going for her thus far.
    “…Busan General does not discriminate based on monetary status.” Renner was still frowning—at her, no less—as if he had no idea what she was talking about.
    Jaz snorted. “Keep telling yourself that, Captain Mason.”
    He blinked, but didn’t ask how she knew his name. Jaz suspected he got it a lot, as accomplished a soldier as he was.
    “We haven’t met.” Statement, not a question.
    Guessing that perks like sharp memory came with being a smart person, the woman shrugged. “Nope. My class was two years behind yours.”
    “Aa.”
    “Yup.”
    Silence.
    Jaz fought her grin as long as she could, then turned her head to lay it on her arms so she could watch him and not have to expend energy at the same time. “Tyro O’Haire, sir.”
    One brow rose, but dark eyes didn’t flick towards her this time. “It’s a pleasure.” Bland, bored, whatever emotion was the farthest from pleased.
    It wasn’t silent treatment, which was a good start. Though she did have experience with his type. Zach was a watered down version of Renner Mason and his big, bad, silent guy routine. Or, had been. Who knew what having pure, uninterrupted exposure to Dan for five years would do to him.
    Snorting to herself, jade-green eyes wandered around the plain hospital room. There was a cluster of blooming flowers in a glass vase next to Mason’s bed, on the far side from her. She wondered who’d brought them then settled her gaze on the sunlight that was creeping onto the foot of her bed.
    A catnap sounded very appealing all of a sudden.
   Reaching behind her with care, Jaz snagged her pillow and tossed it to the opposite end of her bed before crawling over to lay down on her back. She preferred sleeping on her side, but there was no lesser evil to turn her back to right at the moment. Renner Mason and the large windows to her right, the door into the room on her left. 
    So she chose the middle ground, where she could see both directions in her peripherals, and let her exhausted body relax in preparation for sleep.
    Renner was noiseless on his side of the room and between the quiet and the warmth of the sunbeams caressing her skin, Jasmine slipped into unconsciousness in minutes.


    At this point and for the next while, the best way to characterize their relationship is to say that Jasmine flummoxes Renner. In a good way. She's just very far removed from the society and standards that he grew up with.

    New Terminology Note: Jaz introduces herself as "Tyro O'Haire". Tyro is defined as "a person who has just started beginning or doing something: a beginner or novice" (Merriam-Webster Dictionary). I have described Jaz as a soldier, but didn't want to adhere to the traditional ranking system. Thus, the terms Tyro, Elite, Primary Elite, Captain, Commander, and Chief Commander have been added to this story world to describe different ranks in Busan's Special Forces. Don't worry, I'll go into it in depth again at another point down the road. 

    Why no, I didn't just come up with half of those ranks right this minute, why do you ask?

    At any rate, let me know what you think, yeah? I ended up quite liking Ren as a character, even if he is less than a week old. He's a refreshing new face to add to the renovated versions of all the other characters and is a challenge to figure out how to write to boot. Again, in a good way.

    This bit, if you're curious, takes place just a few months after Zach and Dan leave Busan to receive specialized training, the details to which I will expound upon at a later date. As a result, Jasmine is set adrift in the ranks, having no team to continue training with. She gets bounced around from team to team for a while until a month or two after this scribble, at which point she gets picked up by a Primary Elite by the name of Min who becomes her one-on-one teacher for a rather grueling nine-some months.

    But that's another chapter in Jaz's life. 

    Three posts though! This is a record-breaking streak for this year and I am rather heartily pleased with myself, if I do say so myself.

    Hope all is faring well for you guys. Don't forget that I don't bite (too hard) and that comments or critiques are always welcome.

    Ad astra per aspera.
    To the stars through difficulties.