Kat’s Pause 

Since last night, I’ve felt like writing more fanfiction. PoP, Zelda, BGE, anything really. I’m taking a bit of a break from Lost Time, mostly because I need to work on something for my city’s writing contest, so I really shouldn’t spend time on something else… but I gave in to temptation anyway and updated some of my old Zelda ideas, plus the alternative direction Lost Time could have taken after chapter 2 (plot 3.2A, ending III).

The latter is very short and sweet. Literally — it’s kinda sappy. Here’s the old plan:

3.0
- The Prince tries to get his father to leave India alone, says the Vizier was killed, but his father attacks it anyway.
- When the Prince tries to rush ahead to warn them (and/or to save Farah), his father deems him a liability (insane, perhaps) and he is not allowed to fight. He stays with the beasts and baggage and such, under guard.

3.2 A
- she thinks the Prince was a big fat liar, and he was just trying to distract her while they invaded.
- Surrounded by Persian soldiers, she screams out angrily “Kakolukia!� (“Where are you now?�)
- the Prince appears and whisks her away! Yay!

Hehehe. Dunno what happens after that, if anything.

For a while, I’ve wanted to write an adventure with the Prince and Farah, but I can’t think of a decent plot. Or any plot, really. Hannah’s idea with the Fountain of Sight and Farah’s and Shirin’s memories was ingenious. I doubt I could come up with something half as good.

Yeah… plots have never been my forte. *cough* Especially short stories, which is what I have to write for the contest.

I know where the Prince lives! It’s something like “Seraf” or “Serof.” I was playing TSoT today and in the Mess Hall, he mentions “my father […] back home in [Seraf].”

I tried to research a bit but all I’m coming up with for “Seraf” is a name that means “money changer.” Hardly a royal city.
“Seraph” seems too angelic. It’s also a Turkish gold coin. How useful.
“Saraf” got some results as the name of a haveli in Shekhawati in Rajasthan in India. Apparently a haveli is a mansion. Closest one so far?
“Saraph” comes from the Hebrew verb “to burn.” Mmm… no.

I wonder if it’s supposed to be Saraf? The SoT people mixed up Persian and Indian cultures with Farah’s Persian name; maybe they did the same with the Prince’s city. I’m sorely tempted to use it rather than Persepolis.

I totally finished that sucker!

In this chapter I stole lots of lines from TSoT. Hooray for thievery!
“Sandhya� is an Indian name meaning “twilight.� I read in one place that it’s pronounced “San-thee-a,� but I don’t know if that’s correct.
…I just realized I used a frikkin lot of dashes in this chapter. And no semicolons at all. Oh well.

“Something in the sand, sir!�

“A body… a girl!�

I peered through the lines of soldiers and servants, guiding my horse forward to investigate the commotion. There in the swirling sand lay two corpses — a horse and a young girl. But as I watched, the girl seemed to move her head. I pushed through the curious onlookers and shouted, “She’s alive! Someone help her!â€?

Rather than stop the entire caravan, a few servants rode out to bring her back. They lay her on a wooden platform used to carry large goods. I fell back alongside it and finally got a good look at the girl. She was a little younger than me, and her skin was the burnt gold of an Indian. Red cloth was curiously wrapped around her body to form a sort of dress, almost indecently short but acceptable because of the heat. She was covered with sand — it filled her hair and clothes and had scratched red wounds on her body.

One of my father’s men spoke up anxiously. “Sir, are you sure this is wise? What with the unsettled business, if the Maharajah discovered we had taken an Indian prisoner—�

Sharaman laughed. “One little girl in all the bustle of India will not be missed.�

Yet despite my father’s words, something about the foreign girl made me uneasy. Perhaps it was the faded gold lining her red skirts, or the smoky powder layered on her closed eyes, but she did not seem to me like just any “little girl.�

For many minutes, she barely stirred. When she did awaken, it was only to utter nonsensical phrases and stare wildly at objects no one else could see. I knew that if my father learned she was unfit for servitude, he would leave her in the desert just as he had found her. I approached a nearby soldier. “The sun has maddened her,� I told him. “Bring her water, and she may recover.� He laughed most disrespectfully at me, then laughed louder at the indignation that inevitably crossed my face. “Waste our water on a little Indian rat?� He snorted. “If the sun has muddled anyone’s pretty little head, highness—�

I scowled. “Finish that sentence and you’ll find your own rations going to better use.� I glanced at the girl, then back at him. He understood and soon returned with a small skin of water. I held it to the girl’s dark lips, encouraging her to drink.

“Where is that rascal son of mine?� I looked up, startled, as a strong voice barked from up ahead. Some water spilled from the bag, and the soldier who had fetched it looked ready to strike me for my clumsiness. I hastily instructed two servants to administer it to the girl, and rode forward to answer my father’s call.

Over the next few days, I saw little of the strange girl. My father wanted to discuss hypothetical battle scenarios with my brothers and me, to keep us sharp and prepared. I wondered if it had something to do with India — the withdrawn attack, the disappointing negotiations, or the captured girl. The latter fascinated me; I was sure I could feel her night-black eyes upon me as we rode. Once she had regained consciousness and coherence, they had loosely tied her to a pole — more as a symbol of her captivity than an actual means of preventing escape, since she had no chance of survival on her own. Beneath her ragged appearance, she carried a sense of pride, importance even, and a kind of battered beauty that might once have been grand to behold. She held me hot under her gaze, sometimes so forcefully that it was difficult to tell who was the true captor.

We arrived at the palace of Azad in early June. It had been my father’s intention to rest there for a while before returning to Persepolis. Even though the less direct route would take longer, the months were growing too hot for an uninterrupted journey home from Jaipur. I tried not to shudder as we retraced our steps — my family, of course, was unaware that all this had already happened in another time. Even though I knew perfectly well that the Sands were safe in India, I didn’t welcome the thought of returning to that cursed place.

That night, I looked around my guest suite with an odd feeling of relief. Everything was intact and in place, with no eerie yellow clouds lurking in the corners or dreadful monsters tearing through the stillness. I had grown familiar to the half-destroyed appearance of the truly magnificent palace. Now, in a room as handsome as this, it was easy to let my anxieties dissolve into the sumptuous curtained bed. I slept soundly through the night.

The next day, I visited the sultan’s famous menagerie. It was a wonder I had longed to see as a child. The exotic creatures were a terrific sight, pushing out memories of the nasty sand-possessed beasts.

“Tigers from India,â€? a proud voice behind me stated. An Azad native was giving some of my family’s entourage a tour of the zoo. I was surprised to see among them the girl from the desert. They were being generous to her — perhaps because of the state of our relations with her country. She looked sullen, but her face smoothed into a more placid expression as she reached out and stroked the bars of the tiger’s cage.

The Azad man moved outside toward the aviary. The heat was stifling, but I followed the group. The menagerie of Azad was a wonder famous throughout the world, and as a child I had dreamed of it and longed to see it with my own eyes.

A shriek cut the thick air. The Indian girl was glaring high up at one of the caged birds and yelling for her bow and arrow. I recalled that we had confiscated those weapons from her when we had first found her, while she was unconscious. The servants and guards attempted to calm her, but she only demanded that her weapons be returned. The creature was dangerous, she insisted, and must be destroyed. Bewildered, the servants called to me for help. When I reached the girl, she stopped struggling and looked at me intently. “You,� she said, her voice quieter, but with the same urgent, commanding tone. “You remember.�

“Remember what?� I gazed up at the bird, a splendid animal with dark grey-blue plumage and a wingspan of at least eight feet. The girl kept staring at me, but said nothing. She must have been more than a little dazed by the sun after all. Bemused, I asked her name.

A dark look crossed her features. She murmured, “Sandhya.�

“Well, Sandhya, that bird is in a very large cage,� I explained patiently. “It’s not going to attack anyone.�

“I’m not stupid, Prince,� she spat. “I can see it’s in a cage.� A guard grabbed her wrist, ordering, “You will address his highness with the respect he deserves!� She sighed, suddenly looking tired. “You’re right, highness. Of course it’s quite safe. I don’t know what I was thinking.�

I told the servants that I would take her. They gladly assented. I led her away from the aviary to a small lily pond. “Sandhya, that’s a pretty name,� I commented. She had a pretty face to match it, although at the moment it was darkened by a scowl.

“You needn’t be so patronizing,� she muttered.

I was taken aback. “I was only trying to be friendly.�

“I’m not crazy,� she said, defensive now. If not, she was certainly moody. It was impossible to predict what she would do next. I suppose it was her prerogative as a woman, but it was becoming frustrating. “I was only dehydrated in the desert, that’s all. I’m just as sane as you.�

Ksathra would have gotten a laugh out of that last one. “I know you’re not crazy,� I assured her. It was true, more or less. She seemed lucid now, at least. After a few moments of silence, my curiosity got the better of me and I asked, “Why were you afraid of that bird?�

She gave me an odd look, as if searching for something, as if expecting me to know the answer. It soon changed to one of slight embarrassment as she explained: “In my land, there is a legend of a catastrophe which could turn all living creatures into terrible monsters. I — I saw a picture once of a mythical bird that looked just like that one.â€?

She couldn’t possibly be talking about the Sands of Time — the coincidence would be laughable. Yet the first image in my mind was of one of the vicious sand-birds I had fought in this same menagerie. I shivered, but smiled pleasantly at Sandhya. “I’m sure it’s a very entertaining myth.â€?

“Oh, it is,� she agreed, smiling for the first time. “A fantastic story.�

A fantastic story. I looked away, waiting for the painful memories to subside.

“Are you alright?� Sandhya touched my arm gently. I forced another smile. “I’m fine. But this sun is enough to drive a man mad! Er, no offense.�

She laughed, a pleasing sound. “Shall we find somewhere a little cooler?�

My stay at Azad was unexpectedly made that much more enjoyable by the Indian girl’s company. We traversed the palace together. I remembered a little of its design from my adventures with the Sands, but seeing the wonders of Azad in all their glory was nearly as impressive for me as it was for Sandhya. The week passed too quickly, and we were soon on our way to Persepolis. Rather than leave her ungraciously tied to a pole again, I made arrangements for Sandhya to walk by my side as we rode. She and I exchanged stories and traditions from our native lands. This was the first time she had ever left India — as an only daughter, her parents had sheltered her all her life.

She was quite a spirited woman, her strong will kept in check only by her captivity. I couldn’t help but notice that she was also rather beautiful — though why this should elicit a twinge of guilt was beyond my knowledge. Farah was long gone and I ought to forget her. But sometimes when Sandhya’s smooth ebony hair blew gently behind her, I saw for an instant Farah’s regal countenance in place of hers. I feared I would be doomed to torment myself with the princess’ memory forever.

Chapter 6 is at nearly four full pages and still going. I could shorten it, but I’m enjoying the Prince/Farah dialogue. ^^ “Well, that bird is in a very large cage…” The Prince is being patronizing because he thinks she’s crazy, and Farah’s showing her annoyance. Plus there are certain key events that I’m building into the chapter, like Farah giving a fake name, a certain reaction to Azad… and they all have to flow nicely, of course.

I have to replay the Sultan’s Zoo level to refresh my memories of the layout. There’s a lily pond nearby, right?? Nooo, I have a feeling that’s a completely different level…

I want to mention something about Farah’s tattoo, but I think I’ll save it for a later chapter. I’m pretty sure I haven’t noticed that tattoo before today. How sad is that?

I fixed up the business with chapters 5, 6, and 7. It’s bothered me since ch5 that I used Farah’s viewpoint two chapters in a row (5 and 6). So after much deliberation and finally consulting FF.net’s people today, I deleted ch6 and stuck it into ch5. The worst part was sorting out the two author’s notes. o_O But it’s over now and seems to be working fine, so I feel very satisfied. Which means it is time to sleep for many consecutive hours. ^_^

So just to clarify, chapter 7 is now chapter 6. And it’s coming along alright. ^_^

Why are there so many obnoxious bloggy type pages out there? I don’t make any special effort to cater to readers, no, but at least I don’t go around calling them stupid every other line.

I really like Muse’s “Thoughts of a Dying Atheist.” It doesn’t have particularly outstanding lyrics, but it just sounds cool. I don’t think they’ve done many pieces with the chorus in an obviously major mode, maybe that’s it. It sounds straightforward.

Interestingly, there is a connection between those two paragraphs. I was perusing the Muse message board and there was a game were you google song names and post the image results. One for “Hate This and I’ll Love You” was a fake baby covered in fake blood. The Muse users expressed their disgust. I was curious about who would post that kind of thing, and so I briefly looked at the googled page. It was some redneck’s over-the-line Halloween prank — one of those people who thinks anyone can be hilarious if they pretend to be better than the rest of us and then post it online. Some people find Tycho (Jerry) of Penny Arcade annoying. But at least his pompous writing style belies an underlying intelligence.

I stopped taking that pesky penicillin, so now I can eat whenever the hell I want. I don’t know why I took it this morning, it’s useless because mono is a viral infection. I guess I was too tired to protest.

I’m losing a lot of weight and it makes me so very sad. I know how hard it’s going to be to gain back… My throat feels much better today though. But it still hurts to yawn.

My mom bought me an NES at a yardsale! Supposedly it works, too, which would be teh awesome. Before I can play it, we need those adapter cables and some games. Boy do I ever miss SMB3. I’ll hit EBGames when I’m allowed to go outside again, hopefully in a week.

I tried to dye my hair today and it didn’t work. The help line wasn’t open, so I’ll try again tomorrow. Though I’d rather just stick with permanent dye — that blue-black Feria colour is so pretty…

Still writing fanfic! It looks like this chapter will be a long(ish) one, which is good, but could take a while.

And I have mono. Which is odd because everyone in my family, myself included, was sure I didn’t. And I think I feel a little better today — my fever is lower, and last night, for the first time in many days, I slept for more than a couple of hours at a time, and didn’t get sick, and didn’t take Gravol. It rocked.

Not much else to say… probably will miss my grad dance and ceremony, but I can’t say it bothers me that much. I know how much better it could have been without all the stupid highschoolish shit from this year.

Still attempting to write fanfic, not sure where I’ll cut this chapter off. I don’t want it to be short like the last one. And the one before that was pretty short too. I have to pick a point at which to switch to Farah’s POV. Want to hear why, it’s a little SPOILER/sneak peak: The Prince and Farah end up in the palace of Azad again. Craziness and memories ensue! But should that chapter be from Farah’s POV or continue with the Prince’s? I’m considering posting what I have of this chapter so far, but Ren always yells at me for teasing. XP Plus I’m sure to change it before the final draft anyway.

Not better or worse today, I don’t think. Bloodwork wasn’t nearly as scary as I feared, but I still didn’t want to look at the vials afterward. I’ll find out what I have in a couple of days. I don’t think I have mono though.

Stuff with school and doctor’s notes is getting hella confusing. My family doctor was supposed to fax them a note because I missed Wednesday’s exams, but there was some misunderstanding and he didn’t, then the school called and we called him back and he said he’d fax it by 5:00 today. I’m really hoping they don’t give me zero, cause I remember my bio teacher telling a truant kid that if you don’t get a note before the evaluation/whatever-important-thing then it doesn’t count and you get zero. But my mom called and told them the doctor was going to fax a note, so I dunno… I just hope it all works out. Oh and there’s another problem: if I’m well by Monday, I’m supposed to take those makeup exams. But at the lab today they told me I wouldn’t get the blood test results until Monday or Tuesday. So… now we don’t know what to do.

Gravol is my beeeeeeesst friend. My face is tingly.

Wrote some more fanfic. This chapter has practically no description so far, which makes me sad but most other people happy. ^^

Still sick, not getting better yet. Thanks for the well-wishes ^_^ Getting tested for mono soon… I don’t want them to take my blood T_T Since I don’t currently have a high fever I decided to post something cause I’ve been neglecting my blog and I can’t stand not writing stuff. (Probably why I decided to work on my fanfic the other day.)

Annoying dilemma: If I’m well enough Monday, I’ll make up both exams then. I’d rather not because I haven’t been able to study and even if I’m not infectious I’m sure I’ll still feel crappy. But my grad dance and ceremony are on Tuesday and Wednesday, respectively, and if I miss the exams it means I’ll miss those too, and that would suck because I have a pretty dress.

Still have not yet dyed hair.

*Kat swobbles away to drink honey tea and take more drugs*

Ooh Law & Order is on! SVU scary but still good.

I’m sick. Have been for the past few days. Missed my last day of school, missed my English exam today, might miss my bio and makeup English exams Wednesday if whatever’s infecting my throat doesn’t go away. Got some penicillin today so hopefully I’ll feel better in a day or two, but to be honest, I wouldn’t mind missing that bio exam. It’s going to be brutal and my mark would suffer. I’m not going to play hooky if I’m actually not sick Wednesday… so… I’ll see if I can breathe by then and go from there.

On the plus side, I wrote about two pages of the next chapter of Lost Time. Yay. Oh and I bought temporary black(-blue) hair dye, probably will do it Tuesday night.

EVER. (Besides exams) Woohoo!!!! Well… not actually… but it feels like it. Most of what I hate about high school involves the people and general atmosphere of immaturity, and next year I won’t know hardly anyone so I intend to lose the entire social aspect of school.

I want to do something interesting tomorrow before I go. My mom’s still not letting me get my nose pierced, otherwise I’d do that… it’s too hot to go all goth, too late to dye my hair… hmmm maybe not, I could do that last one tonight if I rushed. But I have to decide on a colour. There’s a blue-black (”bright black,” just a hint of bluish when compared to true matte black) in Shoppers that I’ve had my eye on for a while. Still can’t really picture myself with black hair though… if I can find good temporary dye I’ll definitely go for that.

Or I could just dye it auburn. Again. *yawn*

Ning wants me to let my natural colour grow out because he likes everything natural. Nevair!! As if my mousy roots aren’t ugly enough.

I’m in a pretty good mood now… skipped my school’s silly end of the year celebration assembly and got out a bit early. The goodness will likely dissolve when I attempt to finish those 372 bio exam prep questions. But I won’t think about that now…

Trying to convince mother to let me go to Daniel’s grad party. Problems Obstacles:

Daniel is male.
Since the dance ends at midnight, it would be overnight.
I didn’t lie and tell her there definitely won’t be alcohol because there definitely will be.
I told her that his parents *might* be there.

Pros:
There’s less than a dozen people coming.
Um… I’m a nice person?

PS: Thanks Mav for the HTML tips!

The host of the grad party I’m going to hates Ning, and vice versa. So my boyfriend is neither invited nor attending. That is the worst position to be in at a party. Goddamned high school drama.

Considering that before yesterday I didn’t even know how to use layers, I’m kinda proud of myself. ^^

…could have been better, with less crummy lines, less unrealistic events, and a less-beautiful female lead. It wasn’t a bad movie, it just felt like a Disney-fied ripoff of The Da Vinci Code and Indianna Jones. Nicholas Cage was alright, but by far the best part of the movie was sidekick Riley (Justin Bartha) — he had good clueless-but-witty lines.

I’d write more but it didn’t feel like there was too much to the movie… plus I have to design a King Lear pamphlet by 8 pm tomorrow. Oh! And we watched The Incredibles last night and it totally rocked. Go see it!

= hours of hanging out with Ning. He managed to get to my school at the beginning of lunch, and I had no class because of a spare and an absent teacher. And he was wearing hot sunglasses. And that motorized scooter is ridiculous and uberdorky but cool. And we’re going shopping tonight, and he bought me a webcam! XDDD

Something not joyous: when I have a friend who I stick by even when everyone talks shit about them, because I don’t think other peoples’ gossip or opinions should be a factor in treating someone, and then she decides I’m not cool anymore and drops me… without telling me. There are worse feelings than being ignored, but not very many.

I was in a bad mood because of a bunch of things, I was cold to Ning on MSN, I cried and now I’m mad at myself. Stupid stupid stupid.