Chapter one, part one of my still unnamed novel.
Not that I am too conceited or think my work is brilliant, but I thought I'd share part one of the first chapter of my NaNo novel anyway. I posted the prologue about a million years ago.
I'm in a great mood because I'm pretty certain I just passed my statistics exam =D (But LJ won't align my paragraphs the way I want ):)
"I don’t remember inviting you in.”
“You’re getting better, Adelaide,” Isaac Nestor said, a smile obvious in his voice.
“Or perhaps you’re just getting sloppy,” I remarked, spinning around to face him. “I thought you left.”
“Last minute change of plans,” Isaac said. He had started circling the room, peeling photos off the wall where I had pinned them only moments before by throwing knives at them. “You’re not ready.”
“Not ready?” I cocked an eyebrow. I acted quickly, my fingertips lighting up only a moment before a bolt of white light shot from them. If the light had hit, which I had to admit I had been expecting, it would have sent Isaac flying across the room. But the light reached Isaac in less than a second, where it seemed to be absorbed by his own fingertips.
“Was that an attempt to prove me wrong?” Isaac asked, a smile playing on his lips, his hand still raised to where he had caught my spell in the air.
“If you were anyone else, it would have hit,” I grunted, annoyed at my failed attempt.
“See, now that was your first mistake,” Isaac pointed out, returning the knives and photos to the table in front of me. “You don’t know what’s out there.”
“Isn’t it your job to teach me?” My fingertips lit up and immediately one of the photos shot up in the air where it floated for a split second before a knife shot up after it, pierced it and pinned it to the wall opposite me again.
“I try, but it turns out you’re not the easiest person to work with,” Isaac laughed heartily. “Now put down the knife, Adelaide.” I looked at the knife that was hovering somewhere between the table and Isaac’s chest. I didn’t remember levitating the knife at all, but I quickly let it drop to the table. When I looked up again, I was staring into Isaac’s eyes. Isaac Nestor’s eyes were that of the clearest blue I had ever seen in my life, as I had noticed many times before. I could never read any emotion in those eyes. I knew that was a talent he had been trying to teach me to do myself for a long time.
My thoughts were interrupted when the table with the knives started shaking violently. I quickly curled her hands into fists, to hide the top of my fingernails, which were now glowing softly.
“Damn it, Adelaide!” Isaac yelled angrily, “why do you always do that?” But the moment Isaac had torn his gaze away from me, the shaking stopped. I didn’t reply. I didn’t know why it happened. I didn’t even know for sure if I was the one causing it, as it never happened when I was training by myself. “Let’s go, Adelaide.”
Isaac led me just outside the city, to an old abandoned warehouse. This had been our training grounds ever since I found out I was a Guardian. Isaac had been assigned to me as my teacher not long thereafter, now roughly two years ago.
Isaac lit up his fingertips from which small balls of fire shot that lit up the torches hanging on the walls. “Now,” he began slowly, returning his focus to me, “show me what you got.”
I didn’t hesitate. I shot a bolt of light at Isaac that missed him by half an inch, though this was not uncommon during our training together. Isaac shot a similar bolt at me, though his flashed emerald green. It reached me not a moment later, where it was caught in the air by the tips of my fingers. The light seemed to flow right into my hand. This time, I used bothmy hands to create a flow of air that would have knocked out any normal human being. The only effect it had on Isaac was that his coal black hair ruffled slightly as if a light breeze was passing through. I was taken aback by the ineffectiveness of my spell and hesitated a breath too long to block Isaac’s counter spell, and I was knocked off my feet from the impact, crashing to the ground twenty yards further.
“Always be prepared,” Isaac sighed as he ran his hand through his hair.
“How can I when nothing I try has any effect on you?” I pulled myself back on her feet and brushed the dirt off of my knees. Isaac threw back his head and chuckled.
“Oh Adelaide. I’ll admit you’re one of the best Guardian Apprentices I’ve had the honor of training, but you can’t possibly expect to beat me in a fight.”
I walked around the room and let tiny rays of light shoot from my fingers. “Why is it that my spells are colorless?”
“They won’t always be,” Isaac explained, while letting his own fingertips glow green for a moment, as if to show me his superiority. “As you become more accustomed to your role as a Guardian, your spells will take on the color of your personality. Your aura, as some may call it.”
“With my luck I’ll be shooting baby pink bolts from my hands soon enough,” I muttered, more to myself than to anyone else really, but Isaac took my comment dead serious, as was his habit.
“You say that as though it’s a bad thing,” he said, raising his left eyebrow slightly, staring me straight in the eyes. “Having your color defined should be considered an honor to both the Guardian and their Trainer. After all, it means the Guardian has properly grasped all the skills necessary for a Guardian to function fully on their own.”
“Maybe,” I grumbled. I never cared much for the way Isaac always managed to remind me of my inferiority, unintentional though it was. “But baby pink? I can’t imagine looking too intimidating.”
“Perhaps you should consider that an advantage,” Isaac replied shortly, and that was the end of it. Isaac never understood my sarcasm. He didn’t comprehend many other forms of humor for that matter. He wasn’t much older than me though. Isaac only had a few decades on me. Guardians weren’t immortal, but their aging process was much slower than that of normal humans. When the first signs of their true identity start to show, usually in the form of involuntary levitating of random objects by loss of temper, the Guardian’s aging will start to slow down, most commonly around the age of eighteen. I am nineteen. Isaac looked about twenty-one or twenty-two, indicating that he must be between thirty and fifty years older than me. I had long since realized Isaac never liked to talk much about his life, so I could not be certain of his exact age.
“Ready to go again?” Isaac interrupted my thoughts. He was looking at me intently, as though he could see right into my head and pick out my thoughts. I had to look away.
“No, I have to get back to town,” I replied, deciding that brushing more dirt off my knees was a good excuse not to look at Isaac. “I have some errands to run.” Isaac said nothing, and I assumed he had nodded in comprehension, as he strolled ahead of me towards the door of the warehouse. “Isaac,” I said, causing Isaac to stop in his tracks and turn around. I managed to look up at his face and paused. “Never mind,” I muttered. Isaac gave me a questioning look but didn’t press the matter. Instead, he raised his hand and extinguished the flames in the torches.
I'm in a great mood because I'm pretty certain I just passed my statistics exam =D (But LJ won't align my paragraphs the way I want ):)
"I don’t remember inviting you in.”
“You’re getting better, Adelaide,” Isaac Nestor said, a smile obvious in his voice.
“Or perhaps you’re just getting sloppy,” I remarked, spinning around to face him. “I thought you left.”
“Last minute change of plans,” Isaac said. He had started circling the room, peeling photos off the wall where I had pinned them only moments before by throwing knives at them. “You’re not ready.”
“Not ready?” I cocked an eyebrow. I acted quickly, my fingertips lighting up only a moment before a bolt of white light shot from them. If the light had hit, which I had to admit I had been expecting, it would have sent Isaac flying across the room. But the light reached Isaac in less than a second, where it seemed to be absorbed by his own fingertips.
“Was that an attempt to prove me wrong?” Isaac asked, a smile playing on his lips, his hand still raised to where he had caught my spell in the air.
“If you were anyone else, it would have hit,” I grunted, annoyed at my failed attempt.
“See, now that was your first mistake,” Isaac pointed out, returning the knives and photos to the table in front of me. “You don’t know what’s out there.”
“Isn’t it your job to teach me?” My fingertips lit up and immediately one of the photos shot up in the air where it floated for a split second before a knife shot up after it, pierced it and pinned it to the wall opposite me again.
“I try, but it turns out you’re not the easiest person to work with,” Isaac laughed heartily. “Now put down the knife, Adelaide.” I looked at the knife that was hovering somewhere between the table and Isaac’s chest. I didn’t remember levitating the knife at all, but I quickly let it drop to the table. When I looked up again, I was staring into Isaac’s eyes. Isaac Nestor’s eyes were that of the clearest blue I had ever seen in my life, as I had noticed many times before. I could never read any emotion in those eyes. I knew that was a talent he had been trying to teach me to do myself for a long time.
My thoughts were interrupted when the table with the knives started shaking violently. I quickly curled her hands into fists, to hide the top of my fingernails, which were now glowing softly.
“Damn it, Adelaide!” Isaac yelled angrily, “why do you always do that?” But the moment Isaac had torn his gaze away from me, the shaking stopped. I didn’t reply. I didn’t know why it happened. I didn’t even know for sure if I was the one causing it, as it never happened when I was training by myself. “Let’s go, Adelaide.”
Isaac led me just outside the city, to an old abandoned warehouse. This had been our training grounds ever since I found out I was a Guardian. Isaac had been assigned to me as my teacher not long thereafter, now roughly two years ago.
Isaac lit up his fingertips from which small balls of fire shot that lit up the torches hanging on the walls. “Now,” he began slowly, returning his focus to me, “show me what you got.”
I didn’t hesitate. I shot a bolt of light at Isaac that missed him by half an inch, though this was not uncommon during our training together. Isaac shot a similar bolt at me, though his flashed emerald green. It reached me not a moment later, where it was caught in the air by the tips of my fingers. The light seemed to flow right into my hand. This time, I used bothmy hands to create a flow of air that would have knocked out any normal human being. The only effect it had on Isaac was that his coal black hair ruffled slightly as if a light breeze was passing through. I was taken aback by the ineffectiveness of my spell and hesitated a breath too long to block Isaac’s counter spell, and I was knocked off my feet from the impact, crashing to the ground twenty yards further.
“Always be prepared,” Isaac sighed as he ran his hand through his hair.
“How can I when nothing I try has any effect on you?” I pulled myself back on her feet and brushed the dirt off of my knees. Isaac threw back his head and chuckled.
“Oh Adelaide. I’ll admit you’re one of the best Guardian Apprentices I’ve had the honor of training, but you can’t possibly expect to beat me in a fight.”
I walked around the room and let tiny rays of light shoot from my fingers. “Why is it that my spells are colorless?”
“They won’t always be,” Isaac explained, while letting his own fingertips glow green for a moment, as if to show me his superiority. “As you become more accustomed to your role as a Guardian, your spells will take on the color of your personality. Your aura, as some may call it.”
“With my luck I’ll be shooting baby pink bolts from my hands soon enough,” I muttered, more to myself than to anyone else really, but Isaac took my comment dead serious, as was his habit.
“You say that as though it’s a bad thing,” he said, raising his left eyebrow slightly, staring me straight in the eyes. “Having your color defined should be considered an honor to both the Guardian and their Trainer. After all, it means the Guardian has properly grasped all the skills necessary for a Guardian to function fully on their own.”
“Maybe,” I grumbled. I never cared much for the way Isaac always managed to remind me of my inferiority, unintentional though it was. “But baby pink? I can’t imagine looking too intimidating.”
“Perhaps you should consider that an advantage,” Isaac replied shortly, and that was the end of it. Isaac never understood my sarcasm. He didn’t comprehend many other forms of humor for that matter. He wasn’t much older than me though. Isaac only had a few decades on me. Guardians weren’t immortal, but their aging process was much slower than that of normal humans. When the first signs of their true identity start to show, usually in the form of involuntary levitating of random objects by loss of temper, the Guardian’s aging will start to slow down, most commonly around the age of eighteen. I am nineteen. Isaac looked about twenty-one or twenty-two, indicating that he must be between thirty and fifty years older than me. I had long since realized Isaac never liked to talk much about his life, so I could not be certain of his exact age.
“Ready to go again?” Isaac interrupted my thoughts. He was looking at me intently, as though he could see right into my head and pick out my thoughts. I had to look away.
“No, I have to get back to town,” I replied, deciding that brushing more dirt off my knees was a good excuse not to look at Isaac. “I have some errands to run.” Isaac said nothing, and I assumed he had nodded in comprehension, as he strolled ahead of me towards the door of the warehouse. “Isaac,” I said, causing Isaac to stop in his tracks and turn around. I managed to look up at his face and paused. “Never mind,” I muttered. Isaac gave me a questioning look but didn’t press the matter. Instead, he raised his hand and extinguished the flames in the torches.