I apologize for not having posted in a while. I've been sick all week. I'm halfway through the writing of scene two, in which you get to meet the infamous Auggy Taggart and the playful little vixen Milena Daxia, more commonly known as Mixie, Moxie's twin sister. Meanwhile, we have a few questions that need answering...
Moxie's promise
The general consensus is that in order to get help to save Cy's life and get the steam tech parts to replace his left arm, Moxie promised to continue replacing Cy's living flesh with mechanical parts. What she doesn't know is that the steam tech arm, which run on steam extracted from Cy's blood, is also distilling his essence of fey into a small vial contained within the arm. Forums question: Who are the villains to whom Moxie made her promise and why do they want Cy's essence of fey?
The attempted murder of Cy
Someone or a group of people tried to murder Cy. They attacked him, cut off his faerie arm, left him for dead, and set fire to the building to reduce him to ashes. Forums question: Who tried to kill Cy, and why?
Moxie's pregnant!
Okay, maybe not. But Nancy on Facebook says, "Make a place for a new born fey, Andrea [Nancy's daughter] is naming her new daughter, Avery, which means leader of the fairies. Salvation comes through a new born queen." Forums question: How should we add baby Avery into our novel?
Side note: our novel's reference section
I've made a section in our forums called "Current Novel Design," in which I am recording the decisions we've made for plot, setting, and characters. Check it out. It includes pictures of our characters that I haven't had a chance to post yet on our main site.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Morgan Daxia (Moxie) - Character Sketch
History and personality
Moxie is reckless, outgoing, and lives her life with vigor and aggressiveness. The daughter of two steamwrights (steam tech experts), she has been playing with gears and building steam tech machines since she was a little girl. After her village was destroyed in a war when she was sixteen, her parents moved to Slag City in search of work. Having lost everything when the soldiers torched their home, they had no choice but to move into the roughest part of the slums, albeit temporarily since steam tech mechanics are in high demand. Two years later, the Slag City government executed her parents for "insubordination" because they refused to build a steam tech weapon that would have killed thousands. Moxie grieved for her parents, but overriding her grief was rage. Now, three years later, she is herself an established steamwright and is involved with the steamers and rebels who seek to overthrow the corrupt government and the old-fashioned magic users in power.
Moxie is absent-minded and completely oblivious when she's thinking about or working on her machines. She thinks like a scientist, viewing the world with emotional detachment as she tries to make logical patterns out of the chaos. Because of this detachment, she doesn't always think about the morality of her actions and rarely does it even occur to her to consider others' feelings while she's in pursuit of a goal. She doesn't understand people and the subtleties of emotions and social interactions are lost on her. She usually gets her way through the brute force of her personality and sheer stubbornness; she refuses to admit defeat and will keep trying for a goal when others have long since given up.
Fatal flaws
1) Reckless
2) Rarely considers other people's feelings before she takes action
3) Doesn't understand emotion or the subtleties of social interaction
4) Takes logical action even if that action is amoral
5) Easily angered
Saving graces
1) Loves Cy fiercely
2) Highly skilled steamwright
3) Understands logic, mechanics, and strategy
4) Emotionally strong and fierce
Physical traits
Chin-length, straight, cinnamon-colored hair. Startling, large, dark brown eyes. Slender nose. Full lips. Shaped eyebrows. Voluptuous figure. Smooth, tanned skin. Moxie wouldn't know feminine if it hit her with a parasol. She never wears skirts or makeup, and her clothes are functional rather than stylish. She generally wears tight, black or dark brown pants (better for wiping dirt and machine oil on); knee-high, copper-toed boots (for when she drops heavy objects); two low-slung leather belts, one for holding tools and the other for her pistol and ammunition; either a sleeveless shirt or a collared, button-down shirt open at the neck and a man's vest; a waist-length, brown leather jacket; and either mechanic's lenses or metal-working goggles resting on her collarbones or pushed up into her hair. Although she by no means attempts to look feminine, her clothes tend to be form-fitting due to her voluptuousness and do little to hide her natural beauty. Moxie almost always has smudges of machine oil or dirt across her skin.
Moxie is reckless, outgoing, and lives her life with vigor and aggressiveness. The daughter of two steamwrights (steam tech experts), she has been playing with gears and building steam tech machines since she was a little girl. After her village was destroyed in a war when she was sixteen, her parents moved to Slag City in search of work. Having lost everything when the soldiers torched their home, they had no choice but to move into the roughest part of the slums, albeit temporarily since steam tech mechanics are in high demand. Two years later, the Slag City government executed her parents for "insubordination" because they refused to build a steam tech weapon that would have killed thousands. Moxie grieved for her parents, but overriding her grief was rage. Now, three years later, she is herself an established steamwright and is involved with the steamers and rebels who seek to overthrow the corrupt government and the old-fashioned magic users in power.
Moxie is absent-minded and completely oblivious when she's thinking about or working on her machines. She thinks like a scientist, viewing the world with emotional detachment as she tries to make logical patterns out of the chaos. Because of this detachment, she doesn't always think about the morality of her actions and rarely does it even occur to her to consider others' feelings while she's in pursuit of a goal. She doesn't understand people and the subtleties of emotions and social interactions are lost on her. She usually gets her way through the brute force of her personality and sheer stubbornness; she refuses to admit defeat and will keep trying for a goal when others have long since given up.
Fatal flaws
1) Reckless
2) Rarely considers other people's feelings before she takes action
3) Doesn't understand emotion or the subtleties of social interaction
4) Takes logical action even if that action is amoral
5) Easily angered
Saving graces
1) Loves Cy fiercely
2) Highly skilled steamwright
3) Understands logic, mechanics, and strategy
4) Emotionally strong and fierce
Physical traits
Chin-length, straight, cinnamon-colored hair. Startling, large, dark brown eyes. Slender nose. Full lips. Shaped eyebrows. Voluptuous figure. Smooth, tanned skin. Moxie wouldn't know feminine if it hit her with a parasol. She never wears skirts or makeup, and her clothes are functional rather than stylish. She generally wears tight, black or dark brown pants (better for wiping dirt and machine oil on); knee-high, copper-toed boots (for when she drops heavy objects); two low-slung leather belts, one for holding tools and the other for her pistol and ammunition; either a sleeveless shirt or a collared, button-down shirt open at the neck and a man's vest; a waist-length, brown leather jacket; and either mechanic's lenses or metal-working goggles resting on her collarbones or pushed up into her hair. Although she by no means attempts to look feminine, her clothes tend to be form-fitting due to her voluptuousness and do little to hide her natural beauty. Moxie almost always has smudges of machine oil or dirt across her skin.
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| Laetitia Casta, photo origin unknown |
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| From Cowboy Bebop, animewallpapers.com |
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| From Cowboy Bebop, animewallpapers.com |
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| Moxie's style of dress http://www.robotvsbadger.com/images/steampunk-girls/ |
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Chapter 1, part 2
Silence fell between them. All Cy could hear was Moxie's fast breaths, the sidhe's low growling, and the rapid beat of his own heart. Cy tried to move, but his limbs wouldn't work right and the pain was excruciating. Black winked in and out of his vision. What the hell had happened to him? All he could recall was blood pooling around him and a silky, condescending voice - this sidhe's voice. Oh, God. Did Moxie know? He fought the lethargy in his limbs, even managed to move his right arm, only to find that he was bound to the worktable.
Finally, the sidhe said, "You would claim a hybrid as one of your own?"
Moxie didn't hesitate. "I would walk through hell and back for this man. Hell yes, I claim him. He's mine."
The sidhe laughed. The dark, enchanting sound seethed with bitter mirth. "I don't like you, Morgan Daxia, but I can see why he does. Without the presence of other fey to fill his needs, your fire must have drawn him like a moth to a flame. Pity that it also burned his wings."
Moxie started to speak, but the sidhe cut her short. "What we've done here is evil, Morgan."
Finally, the sidhe said, "You would claim a hybrid as one of your own?"
Moxie didn't hesitate. "I would walk through hell and back for this man. Hell yes, I claim him. He's mine."
The sidhe laughed. The dark, enchanting sound seethed with bitter mirth. "I don't like you, Morgan Daxia, but I can see why he does. Without the presence of other fey to fill his needs, your fire must have drawn him like a moth to a flame. Pity that it also burned his wings."
Moxie started to speak, but the sidhe cut her short. "What we've done here is evil, Morgan."
"We saved his life."
"Not a kindness, I think." The sidhe's footsteps, soft as a fall of autumn leaves, receded as he approached the door.
"Then why did you do it?" Moxie called after him. She was angry, but beneath that was a trepidation that was painful to hear.
The door opened with a rush of sultry evening air. It was starting to rain, and the raindrops clattered on the metal skylight with a sound like rivets hitting the floor. "Because," he finally said, his voice so low that Cy could barely hear it over the rain, "I felt his faerie blood and recognized its cadence."
"What does that--" the door shut "--mean." Moxie huffed and muttered a few choice insults about the faerie's anatomy and what he should do with it. Then she holstered her gun and approached the worktable, her steps hesitant. "Cy? Are you awake? Please be awake, baby."
Cy turned his head toward her. The movement was difficult and exhausting, and it reawakened the agony in his skull that had been starting to abate. Moxie was as lovely as always, but he could see the strain tightening of her jaw and the shadows beneath her eyes. Sweat pasted her short, cinnamon hair to her face, and the normal smudges of machine oil that marred her tanned skin were streaked with blood. The blood looked hideously bright through the red haze covering Cy's vision. He tried to speak, but only succeeded in worsening the stinging pinpricks around his mouth. Another drop of blood slid down his cheek.
Moxie winced. She disappeared from his line of sight then reappeared with a small set of copper scissors. "Just a moment," she whispered. Cy stared at her as she snipped the threads sealing his lips. The horror of it made his heart race, and the threads hurt as she pulled them out. "I'm sorry, baby," she murmured, picking out the stitches. "It was the only way to... to..." She bit her lip then dragged it out through her teeth. When she finally spoke, the words tumbled out of her. "It was the only way to keep your lips where they should be. Your jaw and cheekbone were shattered. Raine, that awful sidhe, couldn't fix them. He tried, baby. God, we tried, but finally..." She leaned over him in a hug that wasn't a hug, squeezing her eyes shut as she touched his hair. "I made the replacements out of copper, so they won't burn you. And there's no risk of infection. Raine saw to that. And you're just as beautiful as always, although I know you won't believe me. You never could see how handsome you are." She broke off and pressed the heel of her hand to her lips. Her fingers were crusted with dirt and blood. "I couldn't lose you, Cy. You were dying. I couldn't... You were dying."
Cy's eye widened as he saw the tears glittering down on her cheeks. Moxie didn't cry. Ever. The closest he'd seen her to tears was three years ago when the government executed her parents. He couldn't remember what they had done, but he had a flash of Moxie sitting on her parents' bed, gripping her mother's metal-working goggles. Her eyes were dry as bone while her sister lay sobbing beside her. Even then anger had overridden her grief. That was Moxie. Stronger than anyone had a right to be, and stronger than Cy by far.
He tried to raise his hand to brush her cheek, forgetting for a moment that he was bound--why was he bound?--and the movement made his vision swim in streaks of red, copper, and brown. He couldn't feel his left arm, and his second left arm, that small, tender extra limb that was his faerie defect, felt just as numb. "I love you," he tried to say, but broke off into a fit of coughing so excruciating that darkness flowed over him and stole his words away.
* * *
Cy woke to the bitter scent of coffee spiked with whiskey. The red haze still covered his vision, and he realized as he opened his one remaining eye that the other had been lost--and replaced. He shuddered and was surprised that the movement didn't hurt. The agony that had wracked him was almost gone. That braider, Raine, must be a miracle healer, he mused.
"Cy?"
He turned his head. Moxie had drawn up a chair to his right and was sipping coffee, clutching the cup as if her life depended on it. Her face and hands were clean now, but the shadows looked like dark smudges beneath her eyes. Her mechanic's spectacles with their multiple lenses on thin metal arms were pushed haphazardly up into her hair. She looked exhausted. She took his hand, unbound now, and pressed the back of it to her cheek. Her skin was petal soft and sticky from tears. "Stay with me this time, baby," she whispered.
He turned his head. Moxie had drawn up a chair to his right and was sipping coffee, clutching the cup as if her life depended on it. Her face and hands were clean now, but the shadows looked like dark smudges beneath her eyes. Her mechanic's spectacles with their multiple lenses on thin metal arms were pushed haphazardly up into her hair. She looked exhausted. She took his hand, unbound now, and pressed the back of it to her cheek. Her skin was petal soft and sticky from tears. "Stay with me this time, baby," she whispered.
He gave her a wan smile. The left side of his mouth felt odd sliding across his new metal teeth. "I'll try," he croaked then fell into another fit of coughing. He tensed, expecting it to hurt, and it did, but it was nothing he couldn't handle.
"Here," Moxie said, offering him her whiskey-spiked coffee. Cy made a face. He hated that sludge she drank, but he pushed himself up on his elbow and reached for the ceramic mug. He froze, staring at the limb. His left arm was gone, replaced by a complicated mess of gears, pistons, and copper plates. I shouldn't be able to move this, he thought in a detached sort of shock, even as he flexed his new fingers. They were slender metal bits with rolling joints and rubber tips. A symphony of rods moved with mechanical precision as he clenched his fist. He glanced further up the arm. A large cylinder and piston apparatus traversed the outer side of the elbow, joining the upper and lower parts to help lift the heavy forearm. His shoulder was less a shoulder than a complicated set of joints that allowed mobility while also protecting a small vat of diamond glass. Blood gleamed dark red inside it, filling the vat completely. Tendrils of rubber tubing, pulsing with blood, extended from the vat and embedded themselves into the flesh at the base of his neck. He felt a pulling from the arm, something just this side of pain, as if it were slowly drawing out his innards through those little rubber tubes. He lay back, gripping his stomach with his flesh hand, trying not to throw up.
"It distills the steam it needs to run from your blood," Moxie said softly.
"How is that possible?" Cy rasped. He tried to close his eyes, but of course, the left one would never close again. He wondered how he was supposed to sleep.
"I don't know," she said in that same soft tone, "but Raine said it made sense." She laughed without humor. "To him maybe, but not to me. The steamers assured me though that your blood will replenish itself as you breathe. Raine concurred, although he wasn't too happy about it."
"I think I'm going to be sick," Cy said.
Moxie rose quickly, set her coffee aside, and reached toward him. "Let me help you."
"No."
She flinched as if he's slapped her, but in that moment he couldn't bring himself to care. "What else?" he said.
"Cy--"
"What. Else." His teeth ground together. Bile rose in his throat from the sharp, metallic taste of copper.
"Your eye. Your shoulder. Half your ribcage, and part of your skull. Raine made the skin regrow over the metal bones in your face," she said quickly. "He rerouted some blood vessels so the skin wouldn't die."
Cy laughed bitterly--as if he cared what he looked like--then pushed himself up. He was shirtless and his breeches were stained with blood. The left pant leg was ripped off, the skin beneath burned. It would scar, but at least his leg was whole. Gingerly, he touched his left side with the hand that could feel, knowing what he would, or more precisely wouldn't, find. His faerie arm was gone. Rippled plates of metal covered his rib cage from his arm down to the edge of his stomach. Ironic that he had lost this last faerie part of him and there would be no scar, while on his right side...
Rage filled him. He was suddenly, irrationally furious. Furious at his mother who had lain with a sidhe and yet hated the sight of her half-sidhe son. Furious with Moxie for saving a life that wasn't worth living and for not being able to bring herself to even mention his faerie arm. Enraged at the world that thought hybrids like himself should be put down. What was so wrong with him that no one could see the person inside the trappings? Someone who had never once purposely hurt another soul? Why couldn't they see him for who he really was?
"What happened?" he hissed.
"You don't remember?" Moxie's hand shook as she picked up her coffee cup and took a sip. She offered it to him again and he met her gaze with a glare. Her charcoal eyes showed hurt, remorse, and even a little fear.
"Moxie," he growled. "Just tell me."
"I don't know, Cy!" she cried. She slammed the mug down and hot liquid splashed across her hand. She cradled her burnt hand against her chest but made no move to tend the wound. "Auggy and one of his men brought you home. He wouldn't say what happened, just that you'd been attacked and left for dead, and the building was set on fire around you. The flames took your arm. We couldn't save it; we had to amputate. And your other... It was sheared off completely, like it had been taken as some kind of sick trophy. There was so much blood--"
Cy swung his legs to the side and jumped from the worktable. Ugh. His left leg hurt like hell. He wondered why the sidhe hadn't healed it, or his smoke-burned lungs for that matter. He was taller than Moxie by a hand's breath. He looked down on her now, and he knew his anger showed plainly in his one remaining eye. "You can't even say it," he rasped. "Even now, after everything we've been through together, you can't even say that I lost my faerie arm, the one part of myself that was still fey. I'm fey, Moxie. As much as you like to pretend that I'm fully human, I'm not. I'm a half-breed, and you've made me into even more of an abomination. A faerie with a metal arm. It's disgusting. Unnatural. There are reasons--" He broke off, biting his tongue. He'll hate you for what you've done, Raine had said, and in that moment he was right. But Cy couldn't say that, not to Moxie. He loved her. Even as he hated her, he loved her.
"You still have your voice," she whispered. "Even now, as hurt as you are."
"And yet you stand against it."
She lifted her chin. "Only because I'm used to it. And because I love you."
He growled at her. He'd never wanted to hit a woman, but right then he did and that scared him. He turned on his heel, grabbing up the coat he had left on her workbench the day before. The metal arm was stronger than it should have been and ripped the worn leather. He stared at the tear, but shrugged the coat on anyway, covering that cursed bit of steam technology, that thing that made him into something he wasn't. The coat was long enough to cover his ruined pants. He strode toward the door, ignoring the pain of his injuries.
Moxie ran after him. "Where are you going? Cy!"
"Out," he said.
"You can't. You're hurt. Cy, please!"
He turned toward her, gazing at that beautiful face, those dark eyes that he loved so much, and sighed. "I need to be alone right now, Moxie. Can you understand that? I need time to... adjust. I'll be back. I promise." Then he left, shutting the door softly behind him and walking out into the rain.
"It distills the steam it needs to run from your blood," Moxie said softly.
"How is that possible?" Cy rasped. He tried to close his eyes, but of course, the left one would never close again. He wondered how he was supposed to sleep.
"I don't know," she said in that same soft tone, "but Raine said it made sense." She laughed without humor. "To him maybe, but not to me. The steamers assured me though that your blood will replenish itself as you breathe. Raine concurred, although he wasn't too happy about it."
"I think I'm going to be sick," Cy said.
Moxie rose quickly, set her coffee aside, and reached toward him. "Let me help you."
"No."
She flinched as if he's slapped her, but in that moment he couldn't bring himself to care. "What else?" he said.
"Cy--"
"What. Else." His teeth ground together. Bile rose in his throat from the sharp, metallic taste of copper.
"Your eye. Your shoulder. Half your ribcage, and part of your skull. Raine made the skin regrow over the metal bones in your face," she said quickly. "He rerouted some blood vessels so the skin wouldn't die."
Cy laughed bitterly--as if he cared what he looked like--then pushed himself up. He was shirtless and his breeches were stained with blood. The left pant leg was ripped off, the skin beneath burned. It would scar, but at least his leg was whole. Gingerly, he touched his left side with the hand that could feel, knowing what he would, or more precisely wouldn't, find. His faerie arm was gone. Rippled plates of metal covered his rib cage from his arm down to the edge of his stomach. Ironic that he had lost this last faerie part of him and there would be no scar, while on his right side...
Rage filled him. He was suddenly, irrationally furious. Furious at his mother who had lain with a sidhe and yet hated the sight of her half-sidhe son. Furious with Moxie for saving a life that wasn't worth living and for not being able to bring herself to even mention his faerie arm. Enraged at the world that thought hybrids like himself should be put down. What was so wrong with him that no one could see the person inside the trappings? Someone who had never once purposely hurt another soul? Why couldn't they see him for who he really was?
"What happened?" he hissed.
"You don't remember?" Moxie's hand shook as she picked up her coffee cup and took a sip. She offered it to him again and he met her gaze with a glare. Her charcoal eyes showed hurt, remorse, and even a little fear.
"Moxie," he growled. "Just tell me."
"I don't know, Cy!" she cried. She slammed the mug down and hot liquid splashed across her hand. She cradled her burnt hand against her chest but made no move to tend the wound. "Auggy and one of his men brought you home. He wouldn't say what happened, just that you'd been attacked and left for dead, and the building was set on fire around you. The flames took your arm. We couldn't save it; we had to amputate. And your other... It was sheared off completely, like it had been taken as some kind of sick trophy. There was so much blood--"
Cy swung his legs to the side and jumped from the worktable. Ugh. His left leg hurt like hell. He wondered why the sidhe hadn't healed it, or his smoke-burned lungs for that matter. He was taller than Moxie by a hand's breath. He looked down on her now, and he knew his anger showed plainly in his one remaining eye. "You can't even say it," he rasped. "Even now, after everything we've been through together, you can't even say that I lost my faerie arm, the one part of myself that was still fey. I'm fey, Moxie. As much as you like to pretend that I'm fully human, I'm not. I'm a half-breed, and you've made me into even more of an abomination. A faerie with a metal arm. It's disgusting. Unnatural. There are reasons--" He broke off, biting his tongue. He'll hate you for what you've done, Raine had said, and in that moment he was right. But Cy couldn't say that, not to Moxie. He loved her. Even as he hated her, he loved her.
"You still have your voice," she whispered. "Even now, as hurt as you are."
"And yet you stand against it."
She lifted her chin. "Only because I'm used to it. And because I love you."
He growled at her. He'd never wanted to hit a woman, but right then he did and that scared him. He turned on his heel, grabbing up the coat he had left on her workbench the day before. The metal arm was stronger than it should have been and ripped the worn leather. He stared at the tear, but shrugged the coat on anyway, covering that cursed bit of steam technology, that thing that made him into something he wasn't. The coat was long enough to cover his ruined pants. He strode toward the door, ignoring the pain of his injuries.
Moxie ran after him. "Where are you going? Cy!"
"Out," he said.
"You can't. You're hurt. Cy, please!"
He turned toward her, gazing at that beautiful face, those dark eyes that he loved so much, and sighed. "I need to be alone right now, Moxie. Can you understand that? I need time to... adjust. I'll be back. I promise." Then he left, shutting the door softly behind him and walking out into the rain.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Steampunk Imagery
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| Steampunk Watchman, steampunk-pics.com |
Looking at art and photography spurs my imagination when I write. The details of other artists' creations spark my creative side, giving me ideas for my own writing: unique touches, emotions, scenes, and plot twists. I develop those sparks into full-fledged concepts and weave them into my stories, making them uniquely my own.
I think every writer should make a habit of collecting images that speak to them. I have an entire library of images that I've collected over the years, including photographs and drawings of people, places, and things. When I'm developing characters, designing settings, or am just plain stuck, I'll flip through my collection. It never fails to inspire me.
For characters, I make a file with the photos and drawings that remind me of the character in some way. Comparing my mental image to real images clarifies my mental picture and nails down the details of the character's appearance and personality. When I sit down to write, I display the pictures that are closest to my mental images on my screen. (My screen is usually half images and I put the MS Word window on the right side.) The images ground me, improve my descriptions, and help me make better and more consistent decisions about what my characters say and do and how they react to events.
The same goes for setting. Looking at setting images while I write helps me pretend that I'm actually there in the scene with the characters. The visual images help me imagine the sights, sounds, tastes, textures, details, and spacial relations as I write. Also, I can't tell you how many maps I've drawn of rooms, ruins, and cities. Even if I don't describe a characters' surrounding in depth, I, as the writer, need to know where everything is spacially so that my descriptions make sense to the reader.
These are a some of the images I've collected as inspiration for our setting. I've also posted more steampunk images on our Social Novel Writing Facebook page.
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| steampunk-pics.com |
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| http://www.robotvsbadger.com/images/steampunk-girls |
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| Undertakers by Marc17, steampunk-pics.com |
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| steampunk-pics.com |
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| Executors, steampunk-pics.com |
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| Steampunk Mech I by likaspapaya, steampunk-pics.com |
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| http://www.robotvsbadger.com/images/steampunk-girls |
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| Photography by Tyrus Flynn, http://www.flickr.com/photos/tyrusflynn |
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| Photography by Tyrus Flynn, http://www.flickr.com/photos/tyrusflynn |
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| Photography by Tyrus Flynn, http://www.flickr.com/photos/tyrusflynn |
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| Brisingammen by Rasmus Berggreen, steampunk-pics.com |
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| steampunk-pics.com |
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| Clockwork Twins by Tyrus Flynn, http://www.flickr.com/photos/tyrusflynn/ |
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| Hall of Souls by Dieter Joppich, steampunk-pics.com |
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| steampunk-pics.com |
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| Sequester, steampunk-pics.com |
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| steampunk-pics.com |
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| http://amatoc.com/articles/steampunk |
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| Steampunk Goliath by Cory Jespersen, steampunk-pics.com |
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| Tyrus Flynn, http://amatoc.com/articles/steampunk |
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| http://www.gizmowatch.com/entry/steampunk-arachnid-steam-powered-six-legged-insect |
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| http://amatoc.com/articles/steampunk |
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| http://amatoc.com/articles/steampunk |
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| http://www.robotvsbadger.com/images/steampunk-girls |
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| Steampunk Monocle, http://www.friedpost.com/sciencetech/the-best-steampunk-gadgets-devices-ever-129.html |
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Flashback scene
The following is a draft of a flashback that I'll work into the narrative later in the novel. The scene is set five years before the start of our novel.
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Shortly after her family moved from the wreckage of their village to the slums of Slag City, Moxie had been hurrying home after a day of pilfering scrap metal and wires from the trash of the surrounding factories. She hesitated at the edge of a dump yard, a huge lot filled with towering mounds of slag. She knew she should go around, but her arms ached from carrying the heavy box of spare parts that she and her family would soon make into valuable machines. She glanced up. Sooty snow had begun to fall from the sky. That decided her. She'd be damned if she had to draw another bath from the communal well down the street because the plumbing in her shoddy apartment didn't work.
She was halfway through the mounds when two squat creatures suddenly rose up out of the earth in front of her, blocking her path. Moxie's eyes widened and her legs felt like water. The fey didn't take kindly to trespassers, but this was communal land... wasn't it? The foreign creatures were barely four feet tall with rough-hewn skin and craggy, scowling faces that appeared to be made out of stone. Wisps of hair like the fine roots of trees stuck out from their balding heads. Triple-jointed fingers ended in sharp claws and their legs were little more than crumbling piles of earth and stone. Moxie was too terrified to move; she had never seen or even heard of faeries like this.
One of creatures opened his mouth, working his jaw like he was trying to speak and revealing double rows of serrated teeth and a thick, worm-like tongue that made Moxie gag. She imagined that tongue licking her flesh as the creature bit down, ripping the meat from her bones. A deep pulse sounded through the earth, a sound so low that Moxie felt rather than heard it. Then the creatures were moving toward her, reaching out with dirt dripping from their arms. Moxie dropped her box and ran like hell.
She wound her way back out through the mounds of slag as fast as her legs could carry her. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that the creatures were gaining on her and they appeared to be passing through the mounds, rather than around them. She turned back around, making it to the street - and slammed straight into a slender, golden god of a man. He cried out in surprise, but then pivoted with astonishing grace, dropping his sack and catching her before she fell. Apples and one precious orange rolled out of his bag. Moxie accidentally stepped on the orange as she tried to regain her feet, squishing the expensive fruit and nearly falling again before she found her balance.
The golden god glanced down as he steadied her with his hands on her arms, resignation etched into his handsome features. "Of course," he muttered then gave her a wry smile. "You have no idea what I went through to get that." Moxie gasped. His voice was like rich black coffee and sinfully sweet honey, all rolled into one. She couldn't think past the sound of it. That voice - Oh, God, that voice! - caressed her skin under her clothes and sent shivers down her breasts and spine. It curled around her body, drawing her deeper into his embrace. She wanted to crawl inside him where it was safe and warm and make him hers, but she couldn't even manage move. The best she could do was stare up into his chestnut eyes and tremble in his arms. The man's brow knitted with concern. "Are you all right? I didn't hurt you, did I?"
Moxie almost moaned. His decadent voice tightened things deep inside her, and she blushed - actually blushed. Pure mortification finally broke her from his spell. "I don't blush," she muttered then blushed even harder as she noticed that she was clutching his threadbare coat, pulling him against her.
The man gave her a shy, nervous laugh that was totally at odds with his stunning appearance. "I'm sorry?" he said. He hesitated then brushed her hands with his fingertips, a quick, light touch like the brush of a falling leaf. Moxie released him as if she'd been burned, staring at where her hands had been. The man jerked away so fast that she almost lost her balance. She looked up, braced for his derision, and instead found him watching her warily, as if he expected her to slap him.
Moxie frowned but didn't have time to deal with his strange reaction. The man had been silent long enough that the fog was clearing from her mind, and she suddenly recalled why she had been running in the first place. She whirled, shocked that they weren't dead yet, and found that the two creatures had stopped between the towering mounds of slag twenty feet away. They moved restlessly, dirt dripping from their squat figures, as they eyed the man beside her, one with amusement, the other with malice. The man followed her gaze and stiffened. "Please tell me those are friends of yours," he said.
Moxie shook her head. "I trespassed on their territory. I didn't know..."
The man gave her a sidelong glance. "The fey know when a trespasser means them harm or is just passing through unawares." Moxie glanced at him and realized what she hadn't before: he was part sidhe. It was there in his delicate bones, slightly too large eyes, and that amazing voice. His tone was clipped now. His words still tasted like honey on her tongue, but they didn't catch her in their spell as they had before. Moxie wondered if he could control his voice or if she was merely getting used to it. "Besides," he finished, slowly withdrawing a bone knife from a sheath on his thigh, "I've been through here a thousand times, even slept here once or twice. This is not their territory."
Moxie eyed the knife. The blade was as long as her forearm and stained dark brown in places. "Then what do they want?" she whispered.
He snorted then gave a roguish grin, keeping his eyes on the creatures. His smile made him look younger. She realized with a start that he was only a few years older than her sixteen. "How the hell would I know?" he said. "I'm Cy, by the way--Cypher."
"Moxie."
He nodded then stepped carefully between her and the creatures. "Go away," he called to them. "We have no quarrel with you." Moxie gasped at the force of that deep, honey voice and grabbed the back of his jacket as she swayed. Oh, yes, he could control it, and he hadn't meant to enchant her before, that much was clear.
The creatures hissed at him. Their serrated teeth appeared to be made of stone. The one who had looked amused opened his mouth as if to speak and again that deep pulse of sound-that-was-not-sound shook the earth. Cy covered his ears with a cry and swore under his breath.
"I think we should go," Moxie said, tugging at his coat.
He turned to her with an incredulous look. "You think?" He grabbed her hand and they started to run, but a series of pulses made him stumble then finally drop to his knees. The bone knife clattered to the ground as he clutched at his ears, trying to block out the sound that was too low for Moxie to hear.
"Cy!" she cried, dropping beside him and trying to pull him to his feet. He hunched in on himself, looking as if he might throw up. Moxie glanced behind them. The earthly creatures appeared to be arguing, gesturing at Cy and Moxie with their claws. She didn't understand the chubby one's malice as he glared at Cy. Neither of them had looked at her that way, and for that she was glad. She tugged at Cy's arm, trying to get him to rise. He gasped and looked up at her. Pain shone in his eyes as well as surprise, as if he couldn't quite believe that she hadn't left him behind.
He struggled to his feet and she grabbed his knife--and then suddenly the pulsing ended. Moxie watched as the creatures melted back into the earth. Cy's eyes were wide with disbelief as their straggly hair and balding heads disappeared.
"What the hell were those things?" Moxie said. Cy didn't respond. She turned toward him and saw blood trickling from his ears. She took his hand in hers. His palm was smeared with blood. "Can you hear me?" she asked.
His expression was tender when he looked at her. He brushed the brown strands of her hair away from her face with the fingertips of his free hand. "A little," he said. "It'll pass."
Moxie offered him a small smile and squeezed his hand. "You're sure?"
He nodded. Then the corners of his lips quirked up. "My neighbor is a banshee who fancies herself a singer. Pray you never have to hear her wail."
Moxie gaped, unsure whether or not he was kidding until he tweaked her nose. "Come on, bright eyes," he laughed. "Let's get you home."
------------
Shortly after her family moved from the wreckage of their village to the slums of Slag City, Moxie had been hurrying home after a day of pilfering scrap metal and wires from the trash of the surrounding factories. She hesitated at the edge of a dump yard, a huge lot filled with towering mounds of slag. She knew she should go around, but her arms ached from carrying the heavy box of spare parts that she and her family would soon make into valuable machines. She glanced up. Sooty snow had begun to fall from the sky. That decided her. She'd be damned if she had to draw another bath from the communal well down the street because the plumbing in her shoddy apartment didn't work.
She was halfway through the mounds when two squat creatures suddenly rose up out of the earth in front of her, blocking her path. Moxie's eyes widened and her legs felt like water. The fey didn't take kindly to trespassers, but this was communal land... wasn't it? The foreign creatures were barely four feet tall with rough-hewn skin and craggy, scowling faces that appeared to be made out of stone. Wisps of hair like the fine roots of trees stuck out from their balding heads. Triple-jointed fingers ended in sharp claws and their legs were little more than crumbling piles of earth and stone. Moxie was too terrified to move; she had never seen or even heard of faeries like this.
One of creatures opened his mouth, working his jaw like he was trying to speak and revealing double rows of serrated teeth and a thick, worm-like tongue that made Moxie gag. She imagined that tongue licking her flesh as the creature bit down, ripping the meat from her bones. A deep pulse sounded through the earth, a sound so low that Moxie felt rather than heard it. Then the creatures were moving toward her, reaching out with dirt dripping from their arms. Moxie dropped her box and ran like hell.
She wound her way back out through the mounds of slag as fast as her legs could carry her. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that the creatures were gaining on her and they appeared to be passing through the mounds, rather than around them. She turned back around, making it to the street - and slammed straight into a slender, golden god of a man. He cried out in surprise, but then pivoted with astonishing grace, dropping his sack and catching her before she fell. Apples and one precious orange rolled out of his bag. Moxie accidentally stepped on the orange as she tried to regain her feet, squishing the expensive fruit and nearly falling again before she found her balance.
The golden god glanced down as he steadied her with his hands on her arms, resignation etched into his handsome features. "Of course," he muttered then gave her a wry smile. "You have no idea what I went through to get that." Moxie gasped. His voice was like rich black coffee and sinfully sweet honey, all rolled into one. She couldn't think past the sound of it. That voice - Oh, God, that voice! - caressed her skin under her clothes and sent shivers down her breasts and spine. It curled around her body, drawing her deeper into his embrace. She wanted to crawl inside him where it was safe and warm and make him hers, but she couldn't even manage move. The best she could do was stare up into his chestnut eyes and tremble in his arms. The man's brow knitted with concern. "Are you all right? I didn't hurt you, did I?"
Moxie almost moaned. His decadent voice tightened things deep inside her, and she blushed - actually blushed. Pure mortification finally broke her from his spell. "I don't blush," she muttered then blushed even harder as she noticed that she was clutching his threadbare coat, pulling him against her.
The man gave her a shy, nervous laugh that was totally at odds with his stunning appearance. "I'm sorry?" he said. He hesitated then brushed her hands with his fingertips, a quick, light touch like the brush of a falling leaf. Moxie released him as if she'd been burned, staring at where her hands had been. The man jerked away so fast that she almost lost her balance. She looked up, braced for his derision, and instead found him watching her warily, as if he expected her to slap him.
Moxie frowned but didn't have time to deal with his strange reaction. The man had been silent long enough that the fog was clearing from her mind, and she suddenly recalled why she had been running in the first place. She whirled, shocked that they weren't dead yet, and found that the two creatures had stopped between the towering mounds of slag twenty feet away. They moved restlessly, dirt dripping from their squat figures, as they eyed the man beside her, one with amusement, the other with malice. The man followed her gaze and stiffened. "Please tell me those are friends of yours," he said.
Moxie shook her head. "I trespassed on their territory. I didn't know..."
The man gave her a sidelong glance. "The fey know when a trespasser means them harm or is just passing through unawares." Moxie glanced at him and realized what she hadn't before: he was part sidhe. It was there in his delicate bones, slightly too large eyes, and that amazing voice. His tone was clipped now. His words still tasted like honey on her tongue, but they didn't catch her in their spell as they had before. Moxie wondered if he could control his voice or if she was merely getting used to it. "Besides," he finished, slowly withdrawing a bone knife from a sheath on his thigh, "I've been through here a thousand times, even slept here once or twice. This is not their territory."
Moxie eyed the knife. The blade was as long as her forearm and stained dark brown in places. "Then what do they want?" she whispered.
He snorted then gave a roguish grin, keeping his eyes on the creatures. His smile made him look younger. She realized with a start that he was only a few years older than her sixteen. "How the hell would I know?" he said. "I'm Cy, by the way--Cypher."
"Moxie."
He nodded then stepped carefully between her and the creatures. "Go away," he called to them. "We have no quarrel with you." Moxie gasped at the force of that deep, honey voice and grabbed the back of his jacket as she swayed. Oh, yes, he could control it, and he hadn't meant to enchant her before, that much was clear.
The creatures hissed at him. Their serrated teeth appeared to be made of stone. The one who had looked amused opened his mouth as if to speak and again that deep pulse of sound-that-was-not-sound shook the earth. Cy covered his ears with a cry and swore under his breath.
"I think we should go," Moxie said, tugging at his coat.
He turned to her with an incredulous look. "You think?" He grabbed her hand and they started to run, but a series of pulses made him stumble then finally drop to his knees. The bone knife clattered to the ground as he clutched at his ears, trying to block out the sound that was too low for Moxie to hear.
"Cy!" she cried, dropping beside him and trying to pull him to his feet. He hunched in on himself, looking as if he might throw up. Moxie glanced behind them. The earthly creatures appeared to be arguing, gesturing at Cy and Moxie with their claws. She didn't understand the chubby one's malice as he glared at Cy. Neither of them had looked at her that way, and for that she was glad. She tugged at Cy's arm, trying to get him to rise. He gasped and looked up at her. Pain shone in his eyes as well as surprise, as if he couldn't quite believe that she hadn't left him behind.
He struggled to his feet and she grabbed his knife--and then suddenly the pulsing ended. Moxie watched as the creatures melted back into the earth. Cy's eyes were wide with disbelief as their straggly hair and balding heads disappeared.
"What the hell were those things?" Moxie said. Cy didn't respond. She turned toward him and saw blood trickling from his ears. She took his hand in hers. His palm was smeared with blood. "Can you hear me?" she asked.
His expression was tender when he looked at her. He brushed the brown strands of her hair away from her face with the fingertips of his free hand. "A little," he said. "It'll pass."
Moxie offered him a small smile and squeezed his hand. "You're sure?"
He nodded. Then the corners of his lips quirked up. "My neighbor is a banshee who fancies herself a singer. Pray you never have to hear her wail."
Moxie gaped, unsure whether or not he was kidding until he tweaked her nose. "Come on, bright eyes," he laughed. "Let's get you home."
Saturday, February 5, 2011
How dark do you want our story to be?
I need your input! We decided that the promise Moxie made to her "benefactor" (character TBD) in order to secure his help in reviving Cy was to remove Cy's essence of fey. But the original discussion cited Moxie's promise as being to continue replacing parts of Cy with steam tech parts in order to remove Cy's essence of fey. These are very different promises with very different effects on our story. Please let me know your preference so I know where you want our story to go!
Option 1 (epic fantasy): Moxie promised to do something that would remove Cy's essence of fey and make him fully human. Cy's living parts needing to be replaced with mechanical parts is an unexpected side effect of either saving his life or Moxie's attempts to make him human. Effects: 1) Our story stays mostly out of the realm of horror. 2) Moxie is a protagonist who made a bad choice; Moxie and Cy's love story is a subplot. 3) Moxie's benefactor isn't necessarily vicious or evil. 4) The main villainous part comes from the people who tried to murder Cy in the first place.
Option 2 (kind-of-dark fantasy): Moxie promised to continue replacing Cy's living flesh with mechanical parts, but doesn't know that this will also result in removing his essence of fey. Effects: 1) Our story veers toward dark fantasy; the tone of our story darkens. 2) Moxie is somewhat of a villain, but is morally ambiguous enough that she could still assume a positive role later on; Cy and Moxie's story is one of love gone wrong. 3) Moxie's benefactor is an insidious, trickster villain.
Option 3 (dark fantasy): Moxie promised to replace Cy's living flesh with mechanical parts, knowing that this will also remove his essence of fey. Effects: 1) Our story becomes dark fantasy/horror (slash steampunk); the overall tone of our story is dark, punctuated by shining bits of brightness. 2) Moxie is irredeemably a villain. Her "love" for Cy is obsessive, not real. 3) I don't know where else this will take us, but it could be fun.
Option 1 (epic fantasy): Moxie promised to do something that would remove Cy's essence of fey and make him fully human. Cy's living parts needing to be replaced with mechanical parts is an unexpected side effect of either saving his life or Moxie's attempts to make him human. Effects: 1) Our story stays mostly out of the realm of horror. 2) Moxie is a protagonist who made a bad choice; Moxie and Cy's love story is a subplot. 3) Moxie's benefactor isn't necessarily vicious or evil. 4) The main villainous part comes from the people who tried to murder Cy in the first place.
Option 2 (kind-of-dark fantasy): Moxie promised to continue replacing Cy's living flesh with mechanical parts, but doesn't know that this will also result in removing his essence of fey. Effects: 1) Our story veers toward dark fantasy; the tone of our story darkens. 2) Moxie is somewhat of a villain, but is morally ambiguous enough that she could still assume a positive role later on; Cy and Moxie's story is one of love gone wrong. 3) Moxie's benefactor is an insidious, trickster villain.
Option 3 (dark fantasy): Moxie promised to replace Cy's living flesh with mechanical parts, knowing that this will also remove his essence of fey. Effects: 1) Our story becomes dark fantasy/horror (slash steampunk); the overall tone of our story is dark, punctuated by shining bits of brightness. 2) Moxie is irredeemably a villain. Her "love" for Cy is obsessive, not real. 3) I don't know where else this will take us, but it could be fun.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Cypher Nahuel (Cy) - Character Sketch
Thank you for all of your input. Now that I have a general idea of where you want our story to go, I can finish scene one. Yea! I'm working on it now. In the meantime though, I'll post some character summaries and questions in the forums.
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Character development techniques
Some of the best ways that I know to develop characters quickly are:
1) Decide on a few words that describe their personality, appearance, or role.
2) Give them some unusual traits and then figure out where those traits came from and how they affect the character's life.
3) Give them strengths and flaws. Real people are not perfect; characters shouldn't be either.
4) Create moral and emotional conflicts for the characters, especially major characters. This gives the characters depth, makes them seem real, and makes them more interesting.
5) Determine what flaws and/or moral or emotional conflicts they will struggle to overcome throughout the story. This is the character development that will guide your story along and create the catharsis that's necessary for a good climax.
------------------
Cypher Nahuel (Cy)
History and personality
Half-faerie, half-human, Cy was abandoned as a child by his sidhe father. His human mother, who had to have been a stunning beauty to attract the conceited and fickle sidhe as well as young and naive enough to bed him, died of tuberculosis when Cy was eight years old. He lived alone on the streets until he was a teenager, despised by the sidhe and the other rich and conceited faeries of the High Court because of his mixed blood and distrusted by humans because he's part fey. Because of his faerie blood, he longs for the green places that he's never seen and has always felt restless and unhappy living in the packed and dirty slums of the sprawling, industrial metropolis disaffectionately nicknamed Slag City by its downtrodden inhabitants.
Cy has his mother's human, working-class morals. He's kind to whoever will let him, which unfortunately aren't many because most people look down on him because of his mixed heritage. He's loyal to a fault to the few people he calls friends and turns a blind eye to their flaws, refusing to consider the bad things that might come of them because he wants so desperately to be loved and accepted - although deep down he believes that he will never have either. He values hard work and honesty and takes what little honest work he can find, which is usually back-breaking or degrading positions with minimal pay. He is therefore dirt poor and feels resigned to the "fact" that he will never escape the slums of Slag City. At the core though, he has always been a survivor and harbors a deep, bitter anger at the injustices of the world, so when he can't find honest work, he's not above turning to thievery or participating in underworld crimes. He hates himself a little more after every crime, suffering from conflicting emotions of guilt and pleasure when his actions hurt strangers or those who have wronged him.
When Cy wasfourteen sixteen, he finally scraped enough money together to afford a tiny, dilapidated apartment and get off the streets. At nineteen, he met Moxie, who had just immigrated from the country with her parents and twin sister. He was enchanted with her stories of forests and fields and fascinated by her mechanical aptitude and ability to create useful items out of scrap metal and spare parts. She didn't treat him like dirt or look down on him for his mixed heritage, all of which earned her his fierce loyalty. He helped her adjust to living in the city slums and did odd jobs for her parents, often for free.
Two years later, aftera devastating fight with her family her parents are executed, Moxie moved in with Cy. They soon became lovers. Cy never knew why she instigated it, whether it was out of genuine affection or a twisted sense of obligation [it was both, and her affection soon developed into an obsessive type of love], and was frankly too shocked that she even wanted him to dare question it. Now, three years later, he still wonders, but loves her too much and wants to stay with her too badly to ask. He knows she loves him - she makes sure to show him that every day - but he doesn't understand why she does because he sees himself as defective and undeserving of love.
[Moxie loves Cy because he's sweet and kind, loyal and honest, and she finds his dry, cynical humor endlessly funny. It helps too that he's devastatingly handsome, having inherited both his father's ethereal beauty and his mother's stunningly sweet, girl-next-door sort of looks, which is part of the reason humans distrust him so much although he doesn't know it. He also completely lacks the conceitedness that runs rampant amongst the fey and despises looking in mirrors. She keeps putting them up when he's not around to try to show him how handsome he is, and will find them missing within minutes of him getting home - although she's never actually caught him taking them down. In Moxie's eyes, Cy's only physical defect is his faerie flaw, which is a small third arm on his left side. It creeps her out and she tries her damnest to ignore it and pretend it's not there, which hurts Cy because it's as much a part of him as his hands or feet.]
Moxie and Cy now live in a small apartment adjoining her mechanical workshop. Their main income is from selling her steam tech inventions. Cy tries to do his part by performing whatever honest work he can find, interspersed with the occasional illegal activity that pays better than weeks of his other work. His working outside their home, whether it's illegal work or not, is major point of contention between them because Moxie wants him with her at all times, more than she wants to eat. She has also noticed that her steam tech machines always work better when Cy helps her build them, although she doesn't understand why. [It's because he infuses her inventions with the raw creative magic he inherited from his father. He has never been trained on it and doesn't know he has it, but it comes out whenever he creates something, and it's getting stronger as he ages. Incidentally, his cooking is nearly orgasmic.]
Fatal flaws
1) Cy's mixed blood makes most people despise or distrust him.
2) Craves affection and acceptance to the point of obsession. Although he distrusts everyone when he first meets them, if they are kind to him for any length of time, he will give them his loyalty and steadfastly refuse to see their flaws, even if they treat him poorly or take advantage of him.
3) Deeply undervalues himself. Unconsciously self-destructive and shy.
4) Secretly vengeful, especially toward those who lie to him or abuse him.
Saving graces
1) Kind, generous, and honest to a fault.
2) Fiercely loyal to the people he cares about.
3) Prefers honest work and tries to do the right thing, although he doesn't always succeed.
4) Values life for its own sake and is determined to survive no matter the cost.
Physical traits
Cy's features are more beautiful than handsome. Delicately boned, high cheekbones, slightly too large eyes, and slender nose from his father. Moves with unconscious grace and has the seductive and enchanting voice of the sidhe. Rich brown eyes and golden hair from his mother. Tawny skin and strong, lean muscles from a lifetime of working outside. 5'9" tall. His faerie defect is a small third arm on his left side, usually hidden by his clothes. He prefers nondescript brown clothes and never wears jewelry or anything that will get him noticed. Despite being dirt poor, he is always neat and clean, and his clothes and boots, though old and well-worn, are always in good repair. Cy doesn't mind getting dirty at work, but itches for everything to be neat and orderly (a faerie trait).
Cy's appearance is altered - some would say ruined, although Moxie doesn't think so - before our story begins. He was murdered and, with the magical assistance of a sidhe, Moxie revived him and replaced the damaged parts of his body with custom steam tech parts.
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By the way, for those of you who are wondering, yes, I am making all of this up off the top of my head, and no, I had nothing more than vague ideas when I wrote scene one. Also, yes, Cypher's name is a conscious nod toward Terry Goodkind's Sword of Truth series, whose main character is Richard Cypher.
Please check out these questions being discussed in the forums and give us your input!
------------------
Character development techniques
Some of the best ways that I know to develop characters quickly are:
1) Decide on a few words that describe their personality, appearance, or role.
2) Give them some unusual traits and then figure out where those traits came from and how they affect the character's life.
3) Give them strengths and flaws. Real people are not perfect; characters shouldn't be either.
4) Create moral and emotional conflicts for the characters, especially major characters. This gives the characters depth, makes them seem real, and makes them more interesting.
5) Determine what flaws and/or moral or emotional conflicts they will struggle to overcome throughout the story. This is the character development that will guide your story along and create the catharsis that's necessary for a good climax.
------------------
Cypher Nahuel (Cy)
History and personality
Half-faerie, half-human, Cy was abandoned as a child by his sidhe father. His human mother, who had to have been a stunning beauty to attract the conceited and fickle sidhe as well as young and naive enough to bed him, died of tuberculosis when Cy was eight years old. He lived alone on the streets until he was a teenager, despised by the sidhe and the other rich and conceited faeries of the High Court because of his mixed blood and distrusted by humans because he's part fey. Because of his faerie blood, he longs for the green places that he's never seen and has always felt restless and unhappy living in the packed and dirty slums of the sprawling, industrial metropolis disaffectionately nicknamed Slag City by its downtrodden inhabitants.
Cy has his mother's human, working-class morals. He's kind to whoever will let him, which unfortunately aren't many because most people look down on him because of his mixed heritage. He's loyal to a fault to the few people he calls friends and turns a blind eye to their flaws, refusing to consider the bad things that might come of them because he wants so desperately to be loved and accepted - although deep down he believes that he will never have either. He values hard work and honesty and takes what little honest work he can find, which is usually back-breaking or degrading positions with minimal pay. He is therefore dirt poor and feels resigned to the "fact" that he will never escape the slums of Slag City. At the core though, he has always been a survivor and harbors a deep, bitter anger at the injustices of the world, so when he can't find honest work, he's not above turning to thievery or participating in underworld crimes. He hates himself a little more after every crime, suffering from conflicting emotions of guilt and pleasure when his actions hurt strangers or those who have wronged him.
When Cy was
Two years later, after
[Moxie loves Cy because he's sweet and kind, loyal and honest, and she finds his dry, cynical humor endlessly funny. It helps too that he's devastatingly handsome, having inherited both his father's ethereal beauty and his mother's stunningly sweet, girl-next-door sort of looks, which is part of the reason humans distrust him so much although he doesn't know it. He also completely lacks the conceitedness that runs rampant amongst the fey and despises looking in mirrors. She keeps putting them up when he's not around to try to show him how handsome he is, and will find them missing within minutes of him getting home - although she's never actually caught him taking them down. In Moxie's eyes, Cy's only physical defect is his faerie flaw, which is a small third arm on his left side. It creeps her out and she tries her damnest to ignore it and pretend it's not there, which hurts Cy because it's as much a part of him as his hands or feet.]
Moxie and Cy now live in a small apartment adjoining her mechanical workshop. Their main income is from selling her steam tech inventions. Cy tries to do his part by performing whatever honest work he can find, interspersed with the occasional illegal activity that pays better than weeks of his other work. His working outside their home, whether it's illegal work or not, is major point of contention between them because Moxie wants him with her at all times, more than she wants to eat. She has also noticed that her steam tech machines always work better when Cy helps her build them, although she doesn't understand why. [It's because he infuses her inventions with the raw creative magic he inherited from his father. He has never been trained on it and doesn't know he has it, but it comes out whenever he creates something, and it's getting stronger as he ages. Incidentally, his cooking is nearly orgasmic.]
Fatal flaws
1) Cy's mixed blood makes most people despise or distrust him.
2) Craves affection and acceptance to the point of obsession. Although he distrusts everyone when he first meets them, if they are kind to him for any length of time, he will give them his loyalty and steadfastly refuse to see their flaws, even if they treat him poorly or take advantage of him.
3) Deeply undervalues himself. Unconsciously self-destructive and shy.
4) Secretly vengeful, especially toward those who lie to him or abuse him.
Saving graces
1) Kind, generous, and honest to a fault.
2) Fiercely loyal to the people he cares about.
3) Prefers honest work and tries to do the right thing, although he doesn't always succeed.
4) Values life for its own sake and is determined to survive no matter the cost.
Physical traits
Cy's features are more beautiful than handsome. Delicately boned, high cheekbones, slightly too large eyes, and slender nose from his father. Moves with unconscious grace and has the seductive and enchanting voice of the sidhe. Rich brown eyes and golden hair from his mother. Tawny skin and strong, lean muscles from a lifetime of working outside. 5'9" tall. His faerie defect is a small third arm on his left side, usually hidden by his clothes. He prefers nondescript brown clothes and never wears jewelry or anything that will get him noticed. Despite being dirt poor, he is always neat and clean, and his clothes and boots, though old and well-worn, are always in good repair. Cy doesn't mind getting dirty at work, but itches for everything to be neat and orderly (a faerie trait).
Cy's appearance is altered - some would say ruined, although Moxie doesn't think so - before our story begins. He was murdered and, with the magical assistance of a sidhe, Moxie revived him and replaced the damaged parts of his body with custom steam tech parts.
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By the way, for those of you who are wondering, yes, I am making all of this up off the top of my head, and no, I had nothing more than vague ideas when I wrote scene one. Also, yes, Cypher's name is a conscious nod toward Terry Goodkind's Sword of Truth series, whose main character is Richard Cypher.
Please check out these questions being discussed in the forums and give us your input!
- How do Moxie and her "benefactor" plan to remove Cy's essence of fey?
- Mixie is Moxie's twin sister. What is her personality and what role does she play in our story?
- What are the advantages and disadvantages to using magic vs. steam technology?
- The magic steam engine (we so need a new name) is powering up throughout the story. What effects does this have on our plot?
- There's a war brewing between magic users and steamers. Why? How does each faction operate and what are they planning to do?
- If you haven't introduced yourself, please do!
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