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1963 3 M A R C H
A Z K A B A N
nearly 4 years in
Artemis Marquis lost track of a lot of things. Numbers mostly. The number of days she’d been there. The number of ounces dropping from her body. The number of birthdays she was missing. The number of nightmares she had. Actually, she knew that. Just one, on constant unending repeat. She didn’t know how old she was anymore, but if she had to guess she’d say maybe 20 or 21 or 22. The only way she had to track the time was the temperature of her cell. Too hot in the summer months. And a cold to freeze your bones right up in the winter. Azkaban didn’t allow visitors or even letters. Nothing that would bring the inmates any form of comfort. Not that you would find Artie complaining about it. She knew better than anyone that she deserved it. The days blended, as endlessly as the slow drip of moisture down her cell walls. Until one day something changed. Artemis wasn’t sure exactly what it was. They explained it when they came to collect her from her cell. Something about overcrowding, but she wasn’t really listening. She was staring at a bruise on her leg. It was deep purple but turning a sickly green around the edges like it wanted to appear nastier than ever as it started to heal. The next thing she knew she was being pulled up roughly by her forearm in a way that may have made her snap if she hadn’t already snapped past the point of no return. Led away, she tripped over her own feet several times like she’d forgotten how to walk. It was strange because Artemis had never been clumsy before. But she wasn’t really Artemis anymore, was she? Finally, she was let go and nudged into a new cell. It looked just about the same except it had two bone-thin cots instead of one. And a small blonde woman off in the corner. Older than Artie. Maybe. It was hard to tell in Azkaban. Artemis looked at her for a moment and then looked away before slouching off into a corner of her own without a word. She sat down on the cold stone floor and buried her face in her knees.
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Summer Workshop Prompt #1 The Blessing of Elves and Men and All Free Folk “Faërie contains many things besides elves and fays, and besides dwarfs, witches, trolls, giants, or dragons; it holds the seas, the sun, the moon, the sky; and the earth, and all things that are in it: tree and bird, water and stone, wine and bread, and ourselves, mortal men, when we are enchanted.” —J.R.R. Tolkien
Your Task Write a piece which makes something mundane seem magical. This is a writing exercise focusing on transformation through description. You may pick an object (e.g. a table), a landscape (e.g. a garden), an action (e.g. drinking a cup of tea), or anything else that might be found in everyday life for your character. Your task is to transform this simple object, action, or element into something which reads as wonderful or whimsical. Perhaps the object or act in focus holds some special meaning to your character...or perhaps not. This is a chance to breathe some magic into the ordinary through words alone -- the object/action/element itself is no different to any other. As always with our workshops, there are no rules on word counts, tenses, person, general format etc., as long as you adhere to our site rules and site rating!
How do I start? three simple steps 1. Start a new thread in the Summer Workshop forum. It should be called Prompt 1: Title of Your Piece2. Write your piece, following the prompt above. 3. Review the pieces of others (see How To Workshop).
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Summer Workshop Prompt #2 Faith, Trust, and Pixie Dust “Tink was not all bad: or, rather, she was all bad just now, but, on the other hand, sometimes she was all good. Fairies have to be one thing or the other, because being so small they unfortunately have room for one feeling only at a time. They are, however, allowed to change, only it must be a complete change.” —J.M. Barrie
Your Task Choose One...Or Both! Option AWrite a piece in which a situation or event creates such a strong emotional response in your character that it utterly consumes them, or perhaps even overwhelms them. Focus on the way your character reacts to the situation and how this plays out. Although this prompt focuses on emotional response, consider how this might interplay with physical responses, such as how the five senses (sight, sound, smell, touch, taste) might be affected, and mental responses, such as specific thoughts or memories associated with the event. Option BWrite a piece in which a situation or event causes your character to shift from feeling one emotion to another. Some key things to consider when writing: is the change in feeling obvious externally or only felt internally? What has caused the shift in emotion and why? Is this change familiar to your character (perhaps the event which triggers it is intertwined with a specific memory) or has the sudden shift taken them by surprise? As above, feel free to explore how your character might be affected physically and mentally, as well as emotionally. As always with our workshops, there are no rules on word counts, formats, etc. for either prompt, as long as you adhere to our site rules and site rating!
How do I start? three simple steps 1. Start a new thread in the Summer Workshop forum. It should be called Prompt 2A/B: Title of Your Piece2. Write your piece, following the prompt above. 3. Review the pieces of others (see How To Workshop).
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He was being snide with her now.
Vega opted for the lofty high road with a prim, “Thank you.”
Just in case he wasn’t being snide. Just in case he really did hold seances with Fate and she—he? They? Fate seemed like a woman to Vega, though what did she know—did actually listen to him.
He asked her a question then, and this one didn’t sound snide, though it did sound careless.
Vega glanced sidelong at him, trying to assess whether he was genuinely asking or whether this was a set-up for a joke. Then, deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt, she shrugged.
“It helps with even distribution. If you just dumped six snake fangs in there, they’d all sink to the bottom.”
She slammed the pestle into the mortar. Beneath the stone, a fang cracked.
“If you’re looking for something to do,” this was her way of giving him permission to participate, “—you can start slicing the Pungous Onions. Finely.”
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Crossing his arms, Avery looked between the pot and Vega, weighing between how much trouble he'd get in with the teacher for not helping, and how much trouble he'd get in with Vega for helping. Glancing between the teacher's turned back and Vega's very narrow gaze, he decided to wait until Vega told him to do something.
"Yeah, I'll be sure to bring it up during my next seance with them," Avery said dryly, continuing, "Right after I ask Fate to give me an O on the Potions Exam."
Hesitating, because the Potions exam was something he was concerned about, Avery asked in a much too casual tone, "Why are you crushing those before putting them in?"
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She didn’t know that Vega had once been the North star—or rather, she did now, but she hadn’t a minute ago. She knew now, because he had just told her, that it would be the North star again. Why, she wanted to ask, but didn’t. Vega was important. One of the most important, even. Why, she wanted to ask—and again, didn’t.) “Of course she is,” Vega said instead, tossing her hair back over her shoulder and watching keenly as he scribbled something down. “With a name like that.” waxing gibbous
thursday 2 february 2012
potions classroom, dungeons
“This is getting stupid now.” Avery Elliot and Vega Nettlebed had been paired together for the third time in four weeks. Someone up there clearly thought they were hilarious, but Vega was not inclined to agree. Nor, she suspected, was Avery. The Gryffindor surveyed the ingredients on the workbench, hands on her hips. Then, as she reached for the mortar and pestle, “You’re going to have to explain to Fate that this joke isn’t very funny anymore.” Could you talk to Fate? If anyone could, it was probably Avery.
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Avery tilted his head as he studied the distant star, various notes on the distance, size, and age of the star passing through his thoughts. Boring, likely, to the Vega at his side, just as fiery and twice as blinding.
He knew a lot about Vega, the Lyre it so primely sat in, and its importance to the study of astronomy. He knew it would fade before the Sun, he knew it was one of the most studied stars in the sky.
"Did you know it used to be the North star?" Avery hummed, "And it will be again." His shoulders turned, gaze falling down to her.
The earth, on its shaky axis, would eventually find home in Vega's light.
Avery found he didn't know much about Vega at all.
"Vega is one of the most important stars in the sky," was all he ended up saying, clearing his throat and leaning down to fill out their star chart.
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She was so surprised when he seized her by the arm, she couldn’t find the words to protest, much less the energy to yank herself out of his grasp. Instead, she let him manhandle her into the correct position, following his line of sight along the trajectory of her arm until—
Yes, she saw that bright cluster of stars, which was apparently part of the Golden Gate.
(—what was the Golden Gate?)
Yes, she saw Hyades, which apparently marked the other side of this boundary she’d never bothered to learn before now.
And there she was.
Vega flinched, visibly recoiling from his words and from the way he’d said them—far too familiar, far too intimate.
She recovered in the next beat with pink cheeks and a challenge sharp on her tongue, “And what do you know about Vega, Avery?”
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For being so unsettled, her own world one splinter away from falling apart, Sydney laughed.
It was a broken laugh, one she had to once again swipe across her eyes to clear the pooling moisture. She dropped her forehead against his collar, arms wrapping around his waist. Her fingers found each other, wedging, as her breath rose and fell in rhythm with his.
She desperately wanted to believe him, because he'd always stuck to that without altering his stance on how he viewed her. The way she wished she could if she didn't know better. If she didn't see who she could be whenever she saw her mother or sister. If she couldn't become whoever she wanted, look however she wanted.
The double-edged sword, the give and take of being both gifted and cursed with knowing that her face was as fluid as the tides.
It wasn't very long ago that she didn't even know she could. Even less that she had believed she had to for any other reason than pushing towards the boundaries of what she was capable of. When she'd spent basically an entire term masquerading as other people, learning how to adjust her voice to match theirs, seeing who she could fool into believing it and surprising herself at just how easy it'd been, her only motivation was the same that kept her racing her broom for the good of her Quidditch team. It was a game, one she was good at, and one that she could find pride in with each successful attempt.
When had her world view gotten so clouded? When had she started to notice how no one seemed to look at her the same way she viewed them? Or was it possible, she fleetingly hoped, that she was wrong?
Her grip tightened, pulling him closer and pressing herself fully against him.
"I don't think anyone else does," she answered honestly. Then, with another great sigh, she added, "But it makes me happy that you do." For the first time since she'd begun to doubt herself, knowing that felt like it was enough.
When she lifted her head once more, the face that was looking back at him was her own. Uneven brown hair, almond brown eyes, and a dumbfounded smile sandwiched between cherubic cheeks.
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Avery opened his mouth, a sharp 'Were you even listening during class?' prepared, before he shut it again. He took a deep breath, and on the exhale, twisted her telescope so it pointed straight South. Shuffling so he was close enough to raise her hand, he pointed it towards the sky.
"There," he said, sighting along her arm until he was satisfied. "See that bright cluster of stars there? It's part of the Golden Gate," he explained, letting go of her arm in favour of reaching for his half-complete star chart.
Raising it so it was just below her arm, Avery pointed to the stars and then to the sheet. "Hyades is the other star cluster that is the opposite post of the Gate - most of the planets pass through this line between them," he continued, tracing a finger on a straight line through the clusters from the South-East corner up to the North-West.
Avery turned North and pointed again, low to the horizon where a bright star peaked over the treeline. "And," he said without ceremony, "- there you are."
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