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Dec. 7th, 2015 04:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
chocolatepotI was a cleaning demon today! A bunch of less-necessary boxes that were in the closet/under the table went downstairs, and then boxes that I want to keep up here went in the closet. Consolidated the sewing notions et cetera in one corner of my bedroom, took out the dress/skirt-lengths of fabric I might use soon from the topless big tupperware and put them on my fabric shelves, then put the scraps in the tupperware and put that in the closet, too, along with my vacuum. There's still a bunch of stuff behind the couch and around the tv, and I really need to take the recycling downstairs, but it looks much better and feels good!
I also called the landlord about the last tenant's mattress/box spring in my storage space, and pulled them out so I could fit my own things in. Hopefully he doesn't get annoyed by that, but where I leaned them isn't in the way, and I can't reasonably be expected to put them anywhere on my own.
Other things I've done ... ordered four new Freya bras, horrible expense but my oldest bras are worn out and once you go 34DDD, you don't want to go back to the 36Ds again anyway. I still need to buy a new down coat, but I just bought those combat boots as well and it's just so much money! Good thing I eat next to nothing, I guess. Contemplating buying a couple more things of wool to make a couple more dresses, lining the skirts so they stop climbing my freaking tights, it's getting pretty old.
Concert on Wednesday! Two, actually, for the two services at 7 and 9. Not really looking forward to staying out until 10:30 or whatever on a work night, but probably less than 1/3 of this chorus is really employed, so *sigh*. (Mostly students and retirees, afaict.)
---
While watching the Giancarlo Esposito episode of Leverage I paused at the bit when Hardison was looking at the Stradivarius on the internet, and the auction site's blurb reads:
Violin despises the package below its resemblance. The hum swings violin without her playground. The sailing glance barks past the winning beef. How will each complex sneak outside violin? The nominated edge moans without violin. Can the acknowledged fundamentalist configure a hero? Stradivarius does violin over a losing exam. A such face accesses the win. An island fumes. When can a perpetual powder dry violin? The weary galaxy calls violin within whatever snobbery
I'm just ... a bit surprised that they didn't write something coherent? Or make the font unreadably small? It's a bit mystifying.
---
Have been doing more writing exercises.
I misunderstood 10.14, but will post anyway. You were supposed to write three different beginnings for the story, focusing each on a different promise for the rest of the book. (A "promise" being hints for what would come - tonally, genre-wise, I guess iddy stuff.) I thought you were supposed to skip ahead and write three 500-word excerpts that each fulfill a different promise. Oh well.
Promise One - Political Intrigue
"You must choose your ladies-in-waiting," the duchess remarked, in such a way that it connoted that her grace Lady D must choose Amice's ladies. "You should have done so already. They will need to prepare for the wedding."
"Will they not think it … presumptuous? To name them before I truly rank above them?" The last thing that Amice wanted to do was to begin by offending the women who would be her constant companions. It seemed an impossible task, anyway – to determine which were of good character, reputable, honest, and perhaps even sympathetic, before meeting them? It was of the utmost importance that her future ladies be beyond reproach. Making even one poor choice could reflect poorly on her. When there had been a rumor that one of Margot, Duchess of X's ladies had become pregnant (she was well known for being charming and flirtatious, and had twice been almost betrothed), the duchess sent her away from court immediately so that it was clear that she would tolerate nothing of the sort. She had not been invited back once months passed and it was clear that there had been no pregnancy.
"Would you rather be attended by no-one? This is a blessing for us. In ordinary circumstances, the king would decide your associates instead, and you would be bound by his wishes – those whom he'd chosen to favor."
Lady D was correct in the facts, but her words made Amice realize that reputation and honor had nothing to do with the choices of ladies for her retinue. Like the marriage itself, it was all a matter of advantage to the family. If she were to treat them well and to be fortunate enough for any of them to be of a temperament that matched her own, she might find an enjoyable companion among them, but she was not to have a say in who they might be.
"Now, the Count of Craverre has a daughter who is of eligible age. Lady Loyse is her name, I believe. He will appreciate her being placed so advantageously. And you will of course need some women of a more advanced age to create an aura of chastity and so forth – your sister-in-law Juliet has a widowed aunt, Gervaisse of Mécy. Her son has let us know that he and his wife would be very happy to see her at court."
And so it went. Every placement was an act of politics: this woman was the cousin of a silk importer, who would give the crown and the crown's parents-in-law cut rates. That slip of a girl was the heir to several estates, and could be betrothed by the king to someone or other as a reward for service. In and of itself, this fact did not bother her, as a system of reciprocity was the way in which all the world worked. It was, she realized as she examined her feelings, that every placement also bound her and her own position more firmly to her mother and father, which was wrong. It was all wrong. Where she had fancied that her marriage would lead to a new role for herself, it instead made her more their pawn than even the most lowly of matches.
Promise Two - Religiousness
It was strange to awake in such a large bed with only one other person in it – and that person a man, a situation in which Amice had never found herself. The king was still asleep beside her, his hand on the pillow next to his face. […]
"What would you do now, your grace?"
That was not a question that she was used to. But, she reminded herself, the fact that she was being asked did not mean that her time was actually her own. It was not what she wanted to do, but what the queen should be seen doing that mattered. What should the queen do?
"I would go to the chapel," Amice told them, and they followed her in a procession, two by two, out of her chambers. Lady Loyse and Lady Denisette walked together, whispering; should she reprimand them, for the sake of decorum, or should she encourage a cheerful court? For the moment, she allowed it.
They walked through the corridors of the palace, to the private chapel reserved for royal use. It was small and round, a separate chamber built into the outer wall of the palace in order to allow the sunlight to illuminate the five stained glass windows spaced evenly about it. The walls were richly painted with masses of ranked saints, each depicted in their customary costume or holding their symbol, against a background of gold leaf; the top of the wall and the ribbed ceiling were a deep blue, dotted with gold stars, and the floor was tiled in an elaborate geometric pattern. No misericords – the only furniture was an altar topped with a pure white silk cloth and a wooden altarpiece, itself carved ornately.
"Do you wish us to pray with you, your grace?" Lady Mécy asked, causing a fearful look to draw over Lady Loyse's face.
"You may each choose whether or not to pray with me, as you like," said Amice, "but I would be very glad of your company." She strode into the chapel and knelt in front of the altar, then waited. It would be best if they all joined her, but willing worship was always more valuable than unwilling. She would prefer to lead by example than by prescription, and all of her ladies – perhaps to make a good impression on this, her first day – followed.
Amice took a deep breath to steady herself, then clasped her hands, fixed her eyes upon the altar, and chanted the opening words to a prayer for the continued good health of the king; she was gratified to hear the others join in with her in clear, harmonized voices. Perhaps it was her position as leader of the group, but she felt the power in their chanting build up around the circumference of the chapel, then run up the walls and through the ribs of the conical dome to the point, where it was then released. Once they had finished and the last chord died away, Amice closed her eyes and breathed quietly for a moment, then opened them again as she began to sing a hymn to peace and prosperity.
Promise Three - Lavish clothing description
Her wedding clothes were laid out on the bed, every stitch of the outfit made new for her on this day, and they were terrifying in their grandeur and beauty. Amice stared at them as her nuptial handmaidens undressed her, murmuring among themselves as they did so.
The first thing they put on her was a smock of the finest white linen she had ever seen, the gossamer threads so tightly woven that she could scarcely make them out. The neckline was cut low, of course, but the sleeves were full and went down to the wrist, where they were finished with ruffled cuffs, worked in black silk; the neckline was embroidered on the very edge with black as well. A petticoat of lustrous light blue wool went on top, holding the swaths of linen in at her waist.
Then, over her head, they drew a madder-orange silk kirtle, heavier in the body, and laced it under each arm to smooth the lines of her front. Around the squared edges of the neckline, it was sewn with jewels – small rubies, set in gold, with pearls between them – on top of a narrow band of white silk.
The gown itself was made of white taffeta from Pacchia, brocaded in large, blooming pomegranates. It was cut low enough at the chest to display the jewels on the kirtle, and the sleeves were simply excessive, swelling out so that they almost touched the floor and doubling back; they were lined with ermine. It was all very splendid – these were not the clothes a lady wore to be married to a lord, but a princess to a prince – and would do for her coronation as well, symbolizing that she was to be married a second time to the country itself. How appropriate that the gown was weighty, loaded as it was with silver thread, fur, and duty.
Amice held out both forearms, one to a side, and her women drew on the undersleeves. These were made of a rich, royal blue voided velvet on a satin ground, slit here and there. Through each slit was drawn a puff of pure white silk, with a sapphire set in gold at either end of the cut. Lady Loyse fumbled a little in fastening the sleeve that she controlled, but Amice braced her feet and held steady: it would not do at all to stumble on her wedding day, even in the confines of this small room. Eyes were watching, and tongues would report such a lack of majesty.
Her jewelry was simple – pearls, only pearls. Three ropes around her neck, a perfectly matched pair of drops for her ears, and a girdle made of three strands twisted together, ending in a tassel of smaller pearls. Once they were all added to her ensemble and adjusted into symmetry, the last piece of the ensemble could be added: her narrow hood, made of deep blue satin edged with pearls, with its white silk veil hanging down her back.
10.16 was simpler - write the first 13 lines (which weren't defined well, but I took to mean literal lines of text in Word) of the story, getting as much in about the character, genre, setting, tone, etc. as possible. I've had a hard time figuring where exactly to start without being too much in the middle of things with no introduction to the character or too removed and boring, but I'm finally okay with this.
Amice suffered through the journey from her sister's family's home in Yvres to that of her parents in the capital over the course of a single day, leaving when the sun had not yet risen and passing through the city gate with the stars visible overhead. She had dressed in her least attractive gown of serviceable yellowish wool, packed all that she owned in her box, and bundled herself into the carriage before the count and countess d'Orgelas had woken – although her young niece and nephew had risen while she was dressing, and were there to see her off. She had been deeply grateful, and promised to send them both especially fine presents at Midwinter.
"I wish you could stay with us longer," Denis said. "We will miss you a great deal."
"And I shall miss you," Amice told him, cradling his cheek in one hand, "both of you. But my mother and father have recalled me home immediately, and I must go with all speed."
"To be married?" asked little Jeannette, and Amice hesitated.
"Perhaps. To do my duty by them, in any case." The thought had crossed her mind several times and seemed the most likely – but why was such haste required?
I also called the landlord about the last tenant's mattress/box spring in my storage space, and pulled them out so I could fit my own things in. Hopefully he doesn't get annoyed by that, but where I leaned them isn't in the way, and I can't reasonably be expected to put them anywhere on my own.
Other things I've done ... ordered four new Freya bras, horrible expense but my oldest bras are worn out and once you go 34DDD, you don't want to go back to the 36Ds again anyway. I still need to buy a new down coat, but I just bought those combat boots as well and it's just so much money! Good thing I eat next to nothing, I guess. Contemplating buying a couple more things of wool to make a couple more dresses, lining the skirts so they stop climbing my freaking tights, it's getting pretty old.
Concert on Wednesday! Two, actually, for the two services at 7 and 9. Not really looking forward to staying out until 10:30 or whatever on a work night, but probably less than 1/3 of this chorus is really employed, so *sigh*. (Mostly students and retirees, afaict.)
---
While watching the Giancarlo Esposito episode of Leverage I paused at the bit when Hardison was looking at the Stradivarius on the internet, and the auction site's blurb reads:
Violin despises the package below its resemblance. The hum swings violin without her playground. The sailing glance barks past the winning beef. How will each complex sneak outside violin? The nominated edge moans without violin. Can the acknowledged fundamentalist configure a hero? Stradivarius does violin over a losing exam. A such face accesses the win. An island fumes. When can a perpetual powder dry violin? The weary galaxy calls violin within whatever snobbery
I'm just ... a bit surprised that they didn't write something coherent? Or make the font unreadably small? It's a bit mystifying.
---
Have been doing more writing exercises.
I misunderstood 10.14, but will post anyway. You were supposed to write three different beginnings for the story, focusing each on a different promise for the rest of the book. (A "promise" being hints for what would come - tonally, genre-wise, I guess iddy stuff.) I thought you were supposed to skip ahead and write three 500-word excerpts that each fulfill a different promise. Oh well.
Promise One - Political Intrigue
"You must choose your ladies-in-waiting," the duchess remarked, in such a way that it connoted that her grace Lady D must choose Amice's ladies. "You should have done so already. They will need to prepare for the wedding."
"Will they not think it … presumptuous? To name them before I truly rank above them?" The last thing that Amice wanted to do was to begin by offending the women who would be her constant companions. It seemed an impossible task, anyway – to determine which were of good character, reputable, honest, and perhaps even sympathetic, before meeting them? It was of the utmost importance that her future ladies be beyond reproach. Making even one poor choice could reflect poorly on her. When there had been a rumor that one of Margot, Duchess of X's ladies had become pregnant (she was well known for being charming and flirtatious, and had twice been almost betrothed), the duchess sent her away from court immediately so that it was clear that she would tolerate nothing of the sort. She had not been invited back once months passed and it was clear that there had been no pregnancy.
"Would you rather be attended by no-one? This is a blessing for us. In ordinary circumstances, the king would decide your associates instead, and you would be bound by his wishes – those whom he'd chosen to favor."
Lady D was correct in the facts, but her words made Amice realize that reputation and honor had nothing to do with the choices of ladies for her retinue. Like the marriage itself, it was all a matter of advantage to the family. If she were to treat them well and to be fortunate enough for any of them to be of a temperament that matched her own, she might find an enjoyable companion among them, but she was not to have a say in who they might be.
"Now, the Count of Craverre has a daughter who is of eligible age. Lady Loyse is her name, I believe. He will appreciate her being placed so advantageously. And you will of course need some women of a more advanced age to create an aura of chastity and so forth – your sister-in-law Juliet has a widowed aunt, Gervaisse of Mécy. Her son has let us know that he and his wife would be very happy to see her at court."
And so it went. Every placement was an act of politics: this woman was the cousin of a silk importer, who would give the crown and the crown's parents-in-law cut rates. That slip of a girl was the heir to several estates, and could be betrothed by the king to someone or other as a reward for service. In and of itself, this fact did not bother her, as a system of reciprocity was the way in which all the world worked. It was, she realized as she examined her feelings, that every placement also bound her and her own position more firmly to her mother and father, which was wrong. It was all wrong. Where she had fancied that her marriage would lead to a new role for herself, it instead made her more their pawn than even the most lowly of matches.
Promise Two - Religiousness
It was strange to awake in such a large bed with only one other person in it – and that person a man, a situation in which Amice had never found herself. The king was still asleep beside her, his hand on the pillow next to his face. […]
"What would you do now, your grace?"
That was not a question that she was used to. But, she reminded herself, the fact that she was being asked did not mean that her time was actually her own. It was not what she wanted to do, but what the queen should be seen doing that mattered. What should the queen do?
"I would go to the chapel," Amice told them, and they followed her in a procession, two by two, out of her chambers. Lady Loyse and Lady Denisette walked together, whispering; should she reprimand them, for the sake of decorum, or should she encourage a cheerful court? For the moment, she allowed it.
They walked through the corridors of the palace, to the private chapel reserved for royal use. It was small and round, a separate chamber built into the outer wall of the palace in order to allow the sunlight to illuminate the five stained glass windows spaced evenly about it. The walls were richly painted with masses of ranked saints, each depicted in their customary costume or holding their symbol, against a background of gold leaf; the top of the wall and the ribbed ceiling were a deep blue, dotted with gold stars, and the floor was tiled in an elaborate geometric pattern. No misericords – the only furniture was an altar topped with a pure white silk cloth and a wooden altarpiece, itself carved ornately.
"Do you wish us to pray with you, your grace?" Lady Mécy asked, causing a fearful look to draw over Lady Loyse's face.
"You may each choose whether or not to pray with me, as you like," said Amice, "but I would be very glad of your company." She strode into the chapel and knelt in front of the altar, then waited. It would be best if they all joined her, but willing worship was always more valuable than unwilling. She would prefer to lead by example than by prescription, and all of her ladies – perhaps to make a good impression on this, her first day – followed.
Amice took a deep breath to steady herself, then clasped her hands, fixed her eyes upon the altar, and chanted the opening words to a prayer for the continued good health of the king; she was gratified to hear the others join in with her in clear, harmonized voices. Perhaps it was her position as leader of the group, but she felt the power in their chanting build up around the circumference of the chapel, then run up the walls and through the ribs of the conical dome to the point, where it was then released. Once they had finished and the last chord died away, Amice closed her eyes and breathed quietly for a moment, then opened them again as she began to sing a hymn to peace and prosperity.
Promise Three - Lavish clothing description
Her wedding clothes were laid out on the bed, every stitch of the outfit made new for her on this day, and they were terrifying in their grandeur and beauty. Amice stared at them as her nuptial handmaidens undressed her, murmuring among themselves as they did so.
The first thing they put on her was a smock of the finest white linen she had ever seen, the gossamer threads so tightly woven that she could scarcely make them out. The neckline was cut low, of course, but the sleeves were full and went down to the wrist, where they were finished with ruffled cuffs, worked in black silk; the neckline was embroidered on the very edge with black as well. A petticoat of lustrous light blue wool went on top, holding the swaths of linen in at her waist.
Then, over her head, they drew a madder-orange silk kirtle, heavier in the body, and laced it under each arm to smooth the lines of her front. Around the squared edges of the neckline, it was sewn with jewels – small rubies, set in gold, with pearls between them – on top of a narrow band of white silk.
The gown itself was made of white taffeta from Pacchia, brocaded in large, blooming pomegranates. It was cut low enough at the chest to display the jewels on the kirtle, and the sleeves were simply excessive, swelling out so that they almost touched the floor and doubling back; they were lined with ermine. It was all very splendid – these were not the clothes a lady wore to be married to a lord, but a princess to a prince – and would do for her coronation as well, symbolizing that she was to be married a second time to the country itself. How appropriate that the gown was weighty, loaded as it was with silver thread, fur, and duty.
Amice held out both forearms, one to a side, and her women drew on the undersleeves. These were made of a rich, royal blue voided velvet on a satin ground, slit here and there. Through each slit was drawn a puff of pure white silk, with a sapphire set in gold at either end of the cut. Lady Loyse fumbled a little in fastening the sleeve that she controlled, but Amice braced her feet and held steady: it would not do at all to stumble on her wedding day, even in the confines of this small room. Eyes were watching, and tongues would report such a lack of majesty.
Her jewelry was simple – pearls, only pearls. Three ropes around her neck, a perfectly matched pair of drops for her ears, and a girdle made of three strands twisted together, ending in a tassel of smaller pearls. Once they were all added to her ensemble and adjusted into symmetry, the last piece of the ensemble could be added: her narrow hood, made of deep blue satin edged with pearls, with its white silk veil hanging down her back.
10.16 was simpler - write the first 13 lines (which weren't defined well, but I took to mean literal lines of text in Word) of the story, getting as much in about the character, genre, setting, tone, etc. as possible. I've had a hard time figuring where exactly to start without being too much in the middle of things with no introduction to the character or too removed and boring, but I'm finally okay with this.
Amice suffered through the journey from her sister's family's home in Yvres to that of her parents in the capital over the course of a single day, leaving when the sun had not yet risen and passing through the city gate with the stars visible overhead. She had dressed in her least attractive gown of serviceable yellowish wool, packed all that she owned in her box, and bundled herself into the carriage before the count and countess d'Orgelas had woken – although her young niece and nephew had risen while she was dressing, and were there to see her off. She had been deeply grateful, and promised to send them both especially fine presents at Midwinter.
"I wish you could stay with us longer," Denis said. "We will miss you a great deal."
"And I shall miss you," Amice told him, cradling his cheek in one hand, "both of you. But my mother and father have recalled me home immediately, and I must go with all speed."
"To be married?" asked little Jeannette, and Amice hesitated.
"Perhaps. To do my duty by them, in any case." The thought had crossed her mind several times and seemed the most likely – but why was such haste required?
