lavanya_six (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lavanya_six) wrote2009-11-13 07:36 am
lavanya_six) wrote2009-11-13 07:36 am
Entry tags:
NaNoWriMo Update
I'm up to 13,141 words in my NaNoWriMo fanfic novel, Praise Be to Nero's Neptune. Progress has been slowly picking up after the initial "creative frenzy" that follows me starting any project. I had a couple of ideas of what I wanted to do -- Lu Ten and King Kuei as fellow gilded cage birdies, Fire Lord Iroh's cultural imperialism, Toph's very different life, the new, evil Blue Spirit -- but it didn't really gel into an actual story until around the time I hit the 10k mark. Then I realized what Praise Be is really about: crack shipping. Yes, aside from some background Kataang, there will be crack ships galore: Foe Yay-tastic Blukka (Blue Spirit/Sokka), unsubtle Ku Tei (Lu Ten/Kuei), bittersweet Lu Yuen (Lu Ten/Yue), "doin' it for Mad Scienzzz" Liankka (Sokka/Lian), chaste Soaang (Song/Aang), and, heck, I'm even thinking about throwing in some Maizukla (Mai/Zuko/Azula) just for the hell of it. I'm sure sanity will prevail about including that last ship, however.
Here's an excerpt, below the cut.
"Dude." Sokka rummages in his pockets for a few moments, until finally fetching a silver coin. "Money is not an illusion. See?" He pinches the object lesson between his middle finger and thumb. Gesturing to the silver coin with his free hand, he says, "Height. Width. Depth. Can even buy you roasted meat on a stick. Not an illusion."
"I disagree."
"Where's your proof?!"
He smiles. "The proof, young man, is all around us."
Sokka looks all around them. The sewer is dark, damp, and barely illuminated by the glowing mint-colored crystals intermixed with the arched stone ceiling. His boot are wet, his socks are wet, and he's pretty certain its not water squishing between his toes with each step he takes.
"Uh-huh," says Sokka. "Right. Sure."
Crazy Omashu Sewer Man shrugs. "I see you are the kind of person who believes only what he can see and touch." The sitting man continues, tone conversational and ever-pleasant, "Perhaps, in time, you will learn to see beyond the obvious and into the worlds hidden beyond the veil covering mankind's eyes."
Sokka staaaaaares at him, then pulls an abrupt about-face. "Whatever, man." Waving over his shoulder as he walks away, Sokka adds, "Smell ya later, 'Guru'."
"Oh!" the voice at his back calls out. "I almost forgot. Would you do me a favor, young man, and tell Avatar Aang that I'm expecting him?"
Sokka, startled, wheels around to his right. "What did you jus--"
The sewer is empty.
No one is there.
Sokka screams. "EeeeeeeeeeeEEEEKK! He vanished! Like a ghost! O-ma-shu, he was a ghost!"
"Yoo-hoo!"
"GAAAAH!!" Sokka twists ninety degrees to his right. There, standing less than six inches from his face, is a familiar figure. "GHOST!"
"No, no," says the Crazy Omashu Sewer Man. "You just turned to face the wrong direction."
"...oh." Sokka pauses. "Heh heh."
"There's nothing to embarrassed about. After all--"
"Embarrassment is an illusion?" he suggests.
"I was going to say that these sewer tunnels echo something fierce."
Here's an excerpt, below the cut.
"Can't you beg for coins, Crazy Omashu Sewer Man?"
The dark-skinned, gaunt man holds up one lone, bony index finger. "Ah -- but why would I do that when money is an illusion?"
The dark-skinned, gaunt man holds up one lone, bony index finger. "Ah -- but why would I do that when money is an illusion?"
"Dude." Sokka rummages in his pockets for a few moments, until finally fetching a silver coin. "Money is not an illusion. See?" He pinches the object lesson between his middle finger and thumb. Gesturing to the silver coin with his free hand, he says, "Height. Width. Depth. Can even buy you roasted meat on a stick. Not an illusion."
"I disagree."
"Where's your proof?!"
He smiles. "The proof, young man, is all around us."
Sokka looks all around them. The sewer is dark, damp, and barely illuminated by the glowing mint-colored crystals intermixed with the arched stone ceiling. His boot are wet, his socks are wet, and he's pretty certain its not water squishing between his toes with each step he takes.
"Uh-huh," says Sokka. "Right. Sure."
Crazy Omashu Sewer Man shrugs. "I see you are the kind of person who believes only what he can see and touch." The sitting man continues, tone conversational and ever-pleasant, "Perhaps, in time, you will learn to see beyond the obvious and into the worlds hidden beyond the veil covering mankind's eyes."
Sokka staaaaaares at him, then pulls an abrupt about-face. "Whatever, man." Waving over his shoulder as he walks away, Sokka adds, "Smell ya later, 'Guru'."
"Oh!" the voice at his back calls out. "I almost forgot. Would you do me a favor, young man, and tell Avatar Aang that I'm expecting him?"
Sokka, startled, wheels around to his right. "What did you jus--"
The sewer is empty.
No one is there.
Sokka screams. "EeeeeeeeeeeEEEEKK! He vanished! Like a ghost! O-ma-shu, he was a ghost!"
"Yoo-hoo!"
"GAAAAH!!" Sokka twists ninety degrees to his right. There, standing less than six inches from his face, is a familiar figure. "GHOST!"
"No, no," says the Crazy Omashu Sewer Man. "You just turned to face the wrong direction."
"...oh." Sokka pauses. "Heh heh."
"There's nothing to embarrassed about. After all--"
"Embarrassment is an illusion?" he suggests.
"I was going to say that these sewer tunnels echo something fierce."