Brezzen's NaNoWriMo Adventure!

[lysander]

Sorry High, Akito. I am a thief. And a thief that changes what he steals too.

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Excerpt-ish thing:

Naotsu limped into the old, decrepit mansion complex, and no memories flooded back from his childhood. The place was a terror of water damage and looting injuries. The small, white statues that had once decorated the courtyard had barely survived. Many were shattered or stained with age, or more likely, a combination. The paved walkways that led to each building on the complex were overgrown with weeds. With no one to tend what had once been his home, a forever youthful place had come to know the peace of what it meant to die a slow, calm death.

But the shame and disgrace of it was eyecatching to a noble-born soul. His eyes could only receive a message that shouted through his mind, 'I have fallen! I am no longer noble! I am no longer worth the land I stand upon!'. It made him think of himself, and he tensed his soft hand into a fist. The cracks that spiderwebbed through the walls, each fallen in roof, each torn away and decaying screen. It was just like the unshaven bristle around his throat and mouth, or the rips and bullet holes in his kimono, or the torn, fraying edges of his long hakama. In the most similar ways, they were both terrible.

For a brief moment his temper flared and he considered setting fire to the whole place, and maybe even letting that fire take his own body, to be done with it all. But stepping forward, deeper into mansion, the ravenous locusts of his anger faded and left only regret behind. What could he do now? The appropriate time for seppuku had long since passed; in his current state, an honorable death was impossible. When the fork in the road had left him only two options, honor or existence, he had chosen the less noble of the two, and why?

His dark blue eyes tiredly scanned the houses surrounding the main mansion building, trying and failing to bring about memories that could console him. All he could think about were his recent failings. Even days after the emperor had discarded him, Naotsu had attempted hanging himself, cutting open his stomach, and even tossing himself from the roof of a building in one drunken fit. Yet his damn hand insisted on survival! A curse that would destroy his honor, and wouldn't even allow him to die! Ever since it's other half had been ripped away, the curse's primal urgings had become even more insistent. It seemed impossible; shouldn't the curse have become weaker? No, it only became more desperate to live on, to grow and consume, to become stronger.

The curse was nothing like him. Noatsu only wanted this all to end, and the curse was dragging him through the mud by his hair. He wanted to throw himself on the ground and die, and whither away. But no. He could not. No matter what he wanted, he could not. He remembered the sensation of clenching his teeth each time he faced off against Nanako, living only to prove that he could succeed. And he remembered the feeling of utter fear as that strange beast Shizore cut down man after man. Naotsu fell then, the image of Shizore's eyes appearing right before his own. He fell to the ground only to catch himself, and his body felt dismally cold.

Shizore's eyes... Hate-filled, cold and murderous. The world around him changed when he thought of Shizore, suddenly everything seemed to grow dark and pale. He could always hear the sound of wings beating and water. Strange mist blurred the lines of everything, and made nothing important. Nothing except those eyes, that cradled the firm resolve to kill, and destroy, and erase. Naotsu briefly wondered if that mysterious creature Shizore would kill him in these most disgraceful moments, and a true fear of death overtook him. It dispelled even the pitiful desire to disappear from his own body and his own life and his own troubles.

"You look like you've seen demons," A voice cut through the dazed and half awake, second world, and brought Naotsu back into his once-home. Before him a man sat upon one of the few rotted wooden walkways surrounding the mansion that hadn't yet fallen. The first thing Naotsu saw, instead of this man's face or his hair or his clothes, was that his hands were clasped, his chin resting thoughtfully upon them. Then he took in the rest of him.

A gruff physical appearance with an unkempt mustache, and a beard of several day's growth. Wrinkled features, and a receding hairline tied back in a ponytail. An outfit that looked fitting only for a noble was stained with the grime of sweat and dirt and labor. An old, well-crafted paper parasol rested in his lap. They were still a considerable distance away, but Naotsu could tell there was something strangely familiar surrounding the enigma before him.

"Wh-who are you?" Naotsu asked, suddenly very aware of this man's sudden arrival. Was this some sort of magic? Had Naotsu just gone crazy and was imagining things? Or was his mind so dulled by self pity and fear that he had stopped acknowledging important details? The mouth across his hand gnashed and clattered it's teeth, something it only did when it was excited, or especially pleased.

"Come boy, sit here and let us pray." The man unfolded his hands and waved Naotsu over. He seemed to have more fingers than he should have, but Naotsu was unable to tell.

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• Keep in mind the difference between "'The blue sky' and 'The crystalline dome of aryan eyes'"
  
  
• Keep in mind the use of "of"
  
  
• Keep in mind my tendency to overuse adjectives and adverbs
  
  
• Keep in mind my wonky metaphors, think hard about them, consider alternatives and reorganizations
  "in a hot sigh, his locusts swarmed out his mouth, leaving behind scarred fields"
  "the locust clouds dissipated from his mind"
  "the locust plague finished and he calmed"
  "the locusts were smothered and died by oppressive regret"
  
  
• Keep in mind angsting, strong dialog, and strong action.
  
  
• Keep in mind word order, positioning, and forced description. "Blue eyes scanned..." Try to think of alternatives.
  
  
• Keep in mind the way I describe. (Nutritonal facts v. taking a bite)

[ophelia]

Your main problem seems to revolve around the forever golden “show don’t tell” rule. I feel like I’m reading the nutrition facts (35 grams of sugar, high-fructose corn syrup, lead, chartreuse dye number 15467) instead of crunching on what’s inside the box. Sweet, salty, sour, juicy. And I know I’ve told you in the past that adjectives Are Not Your Friend in over-stalk, but some good.

I can tell you’re trying, but you’re either being too conventional or too forced. His “blue eyes scanned” something-er-other seemed flat to me. You probably don’t want to cut it out entirely, just paste it somewhere else in your story. Most people have problems finding an equal librium with physical description, meaning: When To Put it/Where To Put It. They either put it too early in the exposition (the first or second paragraph: DON’T DO IT!) too awkwardly in the middle, or not at all, which is the safest option (especially if the characterization is strong) but often annoys your audience regardless of Pulitzer prize winning transcendence or not. XD And stuff like “ravenous locusts of his anger faded” sounds like you read it somewhere and let it subconsciously ravage your voice. XD It doesn’t fit and sounds stiff. Like Jet Li trying to act. Bad road. Bad road.

Become a flow master. Wax on wax off. It doesn’t seem like you are thinking about how your words relate to one another. And how your sentences relate in juxtaposition. You must place them together and pick them apart as carefully as you would diffuse a bomb. The tighter your prose the better your prose. Love every word.

Your dialogue and your action are your strongest points. I didn't like your characters when I was hearing them described. I only became interested when they spoke out loud. Or when they did things besides angst. The old dude stopped the angst with prayer! A beautiful release! A beautiful transition!

[lysander]

Alright.

I'm intent on using the locust metaphor, so criticize me further. I have a few ideas already listed. Tell me what doesn't work, tell me what works a little better, if you're willing. Please make more suggestions. I'd really appreciate it.

[Beaver Dude]

Dang, NaNoWriMo? I admit, I'm attempting it but what I have so far are little bits and pieces that don't make sense yet. And I've yet to surpass 500 words *with* all those bits. So yeah, not making much progress BUT I'm supposed to be studying so there you go.

I only read the first paragraph but while you're using interesting diction, it tends to flow unevenly because the word choice is a bit, er, unique? Anyways, I've penciled in red some comments.

Naotsu limped into the old, decrepit mansion complex, and no memories flooded back from his childhood. The place was a terror of water damage and looting injuries (okay, I admit that everyone says 'memories flooded back' so I had to look twice and notice the 'no'. It's extremely jarring and I'm not sure if it's intentional. I have no real criticism about looting injuries besides it sounding odd). The small, white statues that had once decorated the courtyard had barely survived. Many were shattered or stained with age, or more likely, a combination (like this is weird. You can fairly easily tell what's shattered and what's been pitted and pockmarked by age - no need to bring likelihood into it. Usually that form is employed for things which are difficult to tell apart, like if it were the mines or the smoking that gave passerby X that raucous cough). The paved walkways that led to each building on the complex were overgrown with weeds. With no one to tend what had once been his home, a forever youthful place had come to know the peace of what it meant to die a slow, calm death. (This last sentence requires revising. It doesn't sound youthful - in fact, it sounds pretty darn old. Like Victorian-age old.)

I think the main issue is that you have a solid picture in you're head, but you're jumping into it too quickly and leaving the reader confused. There's not enough conventional markers to give me an idea of what you're writing about (why is it forever youthful?). Forget style, focus a bit on the world-building so that everyone knows where you're coming from.

BUT. THIS IS NANOWRIMO. FERGIT MY CRITICISM AND GO WRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRITE.

[lysander]

• Keep in mind the viscosity of light.

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Chapters 1 and -1

In stocking-clad feet she hopped from golden puddle to golden puddle that rippled upon the polished floorboards. Each excited pirouette a young had black haired girl had the little girl turning down yet another walkway or through another guest room. Her pink and yellow and blue, flower print dress was spattered with muddy candlelight no matter which way she went, and even when she was hopelessly lost among the screens and candles and tatami mats, Jinko-Oba-Chan managed to find her right on time.

"Nana-chan!" Jinko-Oba-Chan called out. The old woman's voice was neither sweet nor smooth, and yet it had that certain comfortable quality that only a child's heart looked for. "Your respected uncle has arrived!"

Nanako tumbled out from a corner and came running down a walkway into her caretaker's open arms. "Jinko-Oba-Chan! I missed you all day!" She cried; the words were muted by her servant's clothing.

The matron smiled at her excitable charge, tugging the small wrinkles around her eyes taut. "Yes, but your respected mother and I were out for you, Nana-chan. We bought you a new dress so that you might have something to show off to your respected uncle this evening." She pried the young girl from about her waist, and managed to lead her by the hand back towards her room. She noticed the pout on the young heiress, and shook her head lightly even before Nanako's next words were uttered.

"I would have rather had your help in my studies than get a new dress..." But that wasn't the primary complaint upon Nanako's mind, and both servant and heiress were aware. 'Why do you have to be so stiff when you talk about everyone?'

The caretaker gently squeezed Nanako's hand. "Come on, let's not keep them all waiting Nana-chan. We need to get you cleaned up and dressed!" And she put on her best face to get Nanako back in the spirit of the night.

!*!*!*!

The middle-aged man swallowed and his stomach wrenched to the side in his nervousness. He tugged at the noose of a collar that clung tight to his moist neck. For the better part of the last two hours his mumbled cursing and pacing had worked Arnoud up to a feverish sweat. For all his imposing height, his strong features, and cold mental composure, the mercantile diplomat was absolutely terrified.

It had been one hour and fifty-three... no, fifty-four minutes since his wife had gone into labor with their child. And he had more than enough reason to worry. So many things could go wrong. What if something happened to Kaoru? What if something happened to the baby? What if, what if, what if?!

He was practically should have been leaving a trail of long blonde hairs in his wake; his expensive clothes had paid a heavy toll for his fidgetings. He was so deep in worry that he had forgotten everything beyond the straight line it would take knock down every wall and arrive at his wife's side.

So to Arnoud, it came as an immense surprise, when the screen door to his personal office was slid open. The blank-faced servant looked up to him, almost revealing how fearful he was at his Lord's disheveled state. "Eh... Arnoud-Dono? Kaoru-san has delive-" but the rash-thinking husband, now father, could not wait until the servant was finished. Instead he had almost tripped over the kneeling young man, as he propelled himself forward with an uncanny speed, racing across the grand mansion to where his wife had given birth.

The heavy thumps of his feet against the wood panelling, or padding across tatami was his only accompaniment. There was no stopping, nor slowing, in his mad dash to his wife's side. When Arnoud finally reached the room where he would find his wife, and threw open the screen, he was gulping down air as if to drown himself, and there he saw a site that filled him with pride. Kaoru held the small bundle, cradled between her arms and her bosom, her hands clasped tightly. She smiled, and shook her head with mock-disapproval at Arnoud's flashy entrance. "Looks like I was right. He's a boy."

[lysander]

• Keep in mind: LAKSDFOUASDFOUZLKJASELRKJQWEPRKQWEROIUZLJROWEIRLKASJDORQUWERWEROUZDORQWER
  
  
• Keep in mind that I need to put a disclaimer that I've essentially taken Japanese culture, which I know nothing about, and tried to write a story which relies upon it heavily. xD I feel like Stephanie Meyer already.

-----abcdefhg-----

Chapter 2

Nanako huffed and puffed as she was shoved into the frilly new dress. Some new foreign fashion that had been brought in from Europe, and tailored by someone local. It wasn't so much wearing the dress that bothered her, but how people fussed over her to get the young girl into it, as if she feared some silly dress, like someone of her noble standing didn't have the strength to put on some clothes. Jinko-Oba-Chan was there among the servants, so Nanako had somewhat of a familiar person to hang onto, but the servants muddling about her just got on her nerves.

Maybe if she shouted they'd all scatter timidly, like dust before a fan, but Jinko-Oba-Chan had told her that it wasn't polite to shout. So, she didn't ever shout whenever her personal servant was around, but sometimes she still did when she got frustrated with the others. But regardless of this, she was learning to be patient, slowly but surely, and after some unpleasant faces and a yelp or two, the dress was on. The sandpapery noise of a door sliding open had everyone twist their necks.

A woman with a delicate frame and a strong expression stood in the doorway. Most were silent, but Nanako made sure that didn't remain so for very long. "Mom!" She said with a bright smile, padding across the mats. With a brief pose she showed off her dress, and smirked a broad smugness. "What do you think? Will uncle like it? It's a little tight..." As the woman looked up and down her daughter, her gaze was without sentiment, and even the servants most abused by Nanako's whims felt sorry for the young girl subjected to such eyes. A collective inhalation ensued.

And then, as if entering the oh-so rare eye of an eternal storm, the woman smiled. The tension in the room sank as a release of breath from the chest of the mind. "It suits you Nanako. And if you decide it's still too tight after the meeting with your Uncle, I'll send it back." The change would've been unsettling if it hadn't been observed by everyone in the room on occasion. Since having a daughter, Lady Shunsuke's harsh warrior spirit had changed.

Nanako didn't even seem to take notice. "Really? You like it? I like it too, then!" She exclaimed, with a foreshadowing of idolatry in her voice. She placed her hands on her hips, and beamed up at her mother. Such a parent-sibling relationship may have seemed strange, but in an odd way they both loved each other, and they both couldn't have been more distant. A noble mother who used all of the time she spent with her daughter to teach the young heiress of her lineage and of manners. And a fiery daughter who spent all of her time looking up to her mother and hanging onto each precipice her words presented.

And yet, they were both clearly of the same blood. In fact, in Lady Shunsuke's childhood she had acted in much the same way that Nanako did on a regular basis. Of course, times had changed from then to now, but Nanako was fearless, yet emotionally sensitive. An awkward combination that rarely resulted among the harsh, personality squelching royalty.

Lady Shunsuke nodded promptly to Nanako to thank her servants before they were left behind. Nanako politely thanked the majority of them, and then, with a twitch of her young toes, she ran over to Jinko-Oba-Chan, and hugged her tightly. The matron smiled. "Nana-chan, it's time to go. Off with you now." She said with a smile. Nanako's proud smirk met Jinko's sensitive grin.

"Good night, Jinko-Oba-Chan!" She said, before returning to her mother's side, and leaving the servants to finish up their responsibilities.

The lady and her daughter walked at a slow pace, not expending much energy in the slightest, even though electricity was pouring off of Nanako in such a way that if she were allowed to run, she'd outrun even the fastest Airship in the sky. Small talk among them was minimal, and consisted entirely of Lady Shunsuke learning more of Nanako's studies, and giving her pointers in social ettiquette. But the lack of fulfilling conversation didn't bother the young heiress. Her thoughts were too busy, revolving entirely on meeting Uncle for the first time in many months and learning many things of the world outside the mansion. Hopefully he'd have stories to tell her too, which he always did.

But, being a little girl, and one with the patience of a wildfire, those thoughts were soon diminished and she was just antsy to get there already. Holding herself in check was the hardest thing to do, and when she saw the half-open entrance to the room she practically jumped out of her skin in an all out charge towards it, but Lady Shunsuke put a steadying hand upon her shoulder in a such a way that she might have even been experiencing the very feeling that Nanako was.

As they approached the echoes of men's voices were clear in the air. One was distinctly boisterous, filled with guffaws and hearty words, and equally serious tones. The other voice, which could barely get a word in edgewise, was more sensible and refined in tone. Uncle and Father. They hadn't told her that Father would be here too! Biting her lip and looking up to her mother as they came inches within the doorway, the patience she was forced to endure was absolutely dreadful!

Her mother didn't even spare her a glance either, keeping her face forward. When she neared the door, she nodded to a guard who was stationed by it, and he nodded back solemnly, before fully opening the door to them.

Inside the two men sat around a table, both were distinctive in style. One was obviously not Japanese, but American with a bushy mustache, a freshly shaven chin, and slicked back hair. He was very clearly, "Uncle". The two women bowed ever so slightly, and entered the room.

With a rough laugh and an applause on the part of "Uncle", his words resounded heartily. "Ahhh, the two beautiful Shunsuke flowers have finally bloomed, eh?" Judging by the rosiness of his cheeks, and the emptied sake jug in his lap, Lady Shunsuke found it somewhat funny, though Nanako saw it as charming in a childish sort of way. "Risa-san, it has been too many years! And Nanako-chan, when was it that I last saw you? You're so much taller! You'll be a fine warrior, like your grandmother, I suspect!" His laughter, and the two adults' chuckles, instantly made what was an awkward reunion for all of them, into something more relaxed and easy going. His strange yet casual familiarity with the family, and his own personal charm gave him that power over such.

"Edward-san, you're much too kind!" Lady Shunsuke replied, chuckling, though her eyes were not focused on the American in front of her. They had become inextricably tied with those of her husband, sitting only a few feet away.

The aloof man, Lord Shunsuke, was in a similar condition. "Yes. You, are handy with a compliment, aren't you?" He muttered in a quiet and tranquil way that he seemed unable to change from. A way that his voice was perpetually frozen with in.

Edward however, didn't seem to notice this at all. "Nonsense. Nonsense! The Shunsuke family's kindness far outweighs my own!" A burst of laughter and a request for more sake interrupted his discourse. "Simply being in your home is the greatest kindness. Such a beautiful place. I don't know why they haven't started building them Stateside, yet." A disapproving harumph was quick to follow.

Nanako looked around at the adults above her, and something just clicked. It was something that she had reveled in many times before and now was just as significant. The Shunsuke lineage was that of royalty. Pride was not pride, but instead it was simply an honesty. An admittance of how great oneself is to the world. If this America Stateside place truly had nothing as majestic as this palace, and no one was yet able to replicate it... She must truly be something unique. Maybe not in so many words, did Nanako think this, but in just as much pride.

[High's .Valentine.]

I'm not really going to look into how well you write the story, but how much of 'Nana' you portrayed. XD

Hrm...basically, it's about accurate, the kid Nana in my mind. Headstrong and eager. Though the Nana in my mind might have been a bit more mature, or at least act like it. She calls her mom 'Mother' by the way, but often changes back to Mama. I like how you explained where her sense of pride originated from, which was a big part of the character when I created her. It's her 'perk'.

Keep in mind that this is a kid that grows up to having practically no nice streak.

I'm wondering how much of her history you're going to keep to, or if you're going to change that...?

Overall, interesting. =D I wanna see what happens next.

[lysander]

• Keep in mind: Nanako will grow up to be a bitch.
  
  
• Keep in mind. I AM A STRONG DIGGER, AND I WILL MAKE THIS EARTH BLEED TRUE RED BLOOD.

Chapter 0

It was night, and the crickets chirped in the heat of summer; the drone of the cicadas in the dismal heat was the rough equivalent to that of the small skippers that filled the coastlines, darting across the surface of the water like the fish they netted in. The stars in the sky mirrored the flickering candles and torches on the earth. One of those stars had a twin on the desk of Arnoud Kozoku, as he worriedly hovered over scraps of paper into the night. His blonde hair had been tied back into a ponytail with loose strands sticking out in frazzled angles.

A stick of charcoal was held in Arnoud’s hand, as he sketched and scribbled across crinkled pieces of paper, while constantly reaching up to rub his aching forehead. Yet he couldn’t let himself shove this work aside, as it wouldn’t leave the foreground of his mind. It would worry and worry at him, until he had gone mad or was otherwise incapable of all motor function required of a basic living, sentient being.

He felt strange being so frazzled, and wasn’t coping well with the stress of things he didn’t understand. Arnoud was the type who had had that one thing that he felt proud doing, and was incapable of stepping outside of his comfort zone into another world. And yet, here he was confronted by a conflict he could not understand but had to solve. It was like a mathematician trying to solve a great philosopher’s riddle of life.

It was like he was a logical businessman trying to cope with the existence of mythology being real, to an extent, and was trying to save his wife. And as soon as he felt his worst, the door to his private slowly opened, and Kaoru stood there before him, her hair down, and her clothes loose. She looked exhausted and ready for bed. Such a beautiful woman, to have such a terrible condition forced upon her by the misdeeds of the people who had come before her. She didn’t deserve it, and she had Arnoud’s heart.

Her hands were clasped tightly together, her skin drawn tight, and she must have really wanted to sleep, but just like her awkward was husband was worried about her, she was truly worried about him. For many nights now, he’d locked himself in his study with the excuse that he was working to establish some better trade ties. And maybe he would use those to try and wind down, but they both knew…

“You don’t have to be so tense around me.” He mumbled, “I mean, I know I wouldn’t have been your first choice, but… Well, you just have to make do with what you get? No sense being upset, right?” He spoke, sidestepping the major issue that hung invisibly in the air between them. He couldn’t just come right out and say it, though she would be able to.

And she did, “I don’t like looking at them.” She said, her fingers gripping her frail skin a little tighter. She was like aged wax paper in the way that she appeared. As if even the slightest jerk would cause her to tear apart from top to bottom, and never be put back together. He pushed his chair back away from his desk and began to stand up. “No, it’s fine. I’m just going to bed. You keep at it.” She said with a smile, though stepped to his side.

“You shouldn’t be feeling so much stress… I’m sorry. I’m not helping.” He complained, burying his head into his hands, overwhelmed by the enormity of it all. He was a fish in a small jar, being exposed to this whole wide world. It didn’t help that trade with America was slowing dramatically on his side, as if they no longer had an interest in establishing ties with an international shipping company who had firms all over the world, and could operate day or night. Worrying about work helped him relax from all his worrying about homelife.

“You’re an idiot.” Kaoru kissed her husband’s ear, wrapping her arm gently around his back, and he pulled her into his lap. “A nice idiot, but an idiot all the same.” She tilted his head up, wanting to see his smile, but all she got were Arnoud’s stubbornly baleful eyes. “Why do you worry about it so much? I’ve been dealing with it my entire life. Just because I can’t hide it as much as I could, doesn’t mean there’s any difference.” Since parting her hands, her fists had been clenched tightly, but she relaxed her fingers, and across the palm of her hand was a slit surrounded by patchy black skin. The slit quivered, and opened wide as if yawning, to reveal a set of teeth and an eerie dark pit.

Arnoud shook his head, closing his eyes and leaning his head upon her shoulder. How could she be so strong-faced about it? If it were Arnoud, he’d be terrified of those things. He’d want to have them removed immediately. And that’s what the papers on his desk were. They were his weak attempt at trying to figure out the workings behind Kaoru’s mysterious family curse, and maybe even find a way to put a stop to it.

“We both know you’ve been getting weaker…” He said, without a hint of discretion. It was something that he hadn’t wanted to talk about clearly, but since that’s where it had gone that’s where he had to operate. “And, I don’t want to raise Naotsu alone.”

“You won’t have to.” She chided. “He’s a strong-minded boy. He’ll probably be raising himself. It’s been hard to convince him to go to bed, lately.” And she was speaking honestly. At six years old, their child had been running around the manor independently for quite a while, getting into all kinds of mischief.

Arnoud groaned. She just wouldn’t take him seriously, and his heart was breaking. These talks, though rare, were always frustrating for him, because he could never seem to convince her that they needed to find some way to fight it. She had just accepted this terrible fate, and she was going to bring everyone around her down because of it. How was Arnoud supposed to feel? Was he just supposed to raise a child that would remind him every day of the woman he had failed to save?

He briefly cursed himself for not reading more fantasy novels about dragons and goblins and trolls as a child, he cursed his father for the single mindedness he possessed, and he cursed this damn child for putting so much stress on the woman who had managed to break into both his head and his heart.

“Come on. Let’s go to bed, okay?” She offered, feeling the man beneath her grow tenser. He was chewing on his upper lip, a habit he staved off until he was more anxious than usual.

“No, no. I have more work to do here. But I’ll be in in an hour.” He said with a weak smile. “Don’t stay up. Sleep well, and have a dream or two for me.” His hands gently pushed at her, and Kaoru who knew that asking him to come to bed, wouldn’t help any towards what she wanted just nodded slowly.

“Don’t stay up too late. And try not to wake Naotsu when you come to bed. He’s been complaining of ogres clomping around near his room in the middle of the night.” Arnoud chuckled and nodded. Turning his attention back to the diagrams, and theories, and proofs, and more.