Now, these are two entirely different openings. in the second opening, the one i worked on today, the characters' back-stories are 110% more developed and the story begins in an entirely different place. i thought that if i posted both here, Mibba might tell me which one they would most be interested in reading.
NOTE: if you don't have time to read/compare the two openings, opinions on #2 would still be greatly appreciated! Really!
Opening #2:
Opening #1: [This one is a little bit longer, but i tried to cut it off at a decent point.]
- Quote
- For a long moment, there was nothing but water.
She could feel the weight of it pressing against her, pushing her deeper, knocking her backward with the force of the crashing waves. Reaching up desperately, she focused her thoughts away from the painful pang in her chest reminding her that she was out of available oxygen. Her fingers slid through the water hopelessly as she was forced downward by the power of the sea, away from the surface. Away from any possible hope of survival.
The moments of relative calm between the waves provided little comfort, pulling her forward slightly before the next wave came crashing around her. Her lungs constricted tightly as she forced her mouth to stay shut. Though her legs kicked out, pushing her upward, she knew that her efforts were very nearly pointless. Her ears had filled with water, ringing from the lightness in her mind and the bursting sensation in her lungs. Though she reached up again, pushing against the water with what strength remained in her limbs, she could not ignore how weak she felt. She was drowning.
Somehow, impossibly, the thought did not seem to frighten her, the embrace of death seeming merciful when compared to the torture she was currently facing. She twisted painfully, screaming silently, as the pain of it erupted, becoming more than unbearable. Her lips parted involuntarily, searching for oxygen, for life, that could not reach her. The taste of saltwater filled her mouth, burning her throat as she inhaled, knowing that it would be minutes, perhaps seconds, before she was lost.
A fleeting thought of remorse flickered in her mind, and for a moment she truly wished that the sea would take her. What a welcome death, she thought, to be forever surrounded by the water she had called home for a great many years. If it had not been for the longing ache that was beginning to fade as she lost consciousness, she could feel rather calm.
Suddenly, drowsiness overcame her. Thoughts of her crew members, of the ship, even of her captain drifted away as her eyes closed, her arms at once too heavy to lift. It was as though the pressure squeezing her chest had lifted without warning, and what a blessing it was. She was so, so very tired. She was sinking into the water and sinking deeper into her mind, retreating into that familiar and comfortable place as the waves dragged her down.
There was a moment of darkness and Rex thought she truly had passed on. She was aware of very little other than the heaviness that encompassed her, barely noticing that a new sort of pressure was now pressing in on her torso, lifting her up rather than dragging her further into the darkness. Drowsy and defeated, she made no effort to pull away from this new force, allowing herself to be towed along. Some thought in the back of her mind reminded her to keep her eyes open, to keep awake and aware. She did try, though it felt as though she was fighting the weight of the entire ocean to remain conscious.
And then, all at once, the pain returned. She was gasping for air before she realized she was breathing, coughing out the salty water. Each lungful of air throbbed in her chest as it expanded, as though her body was trying to overcompensate for the lack of air moments previously by inhaling more than she could handle. She could not make sense of anything that was going on for a chaotic minute, focusing on oxygen and the expanding of her torso and the fact that she was not, by some miracle, dead.
Something strong and firm still remained locked around her waist, keeping her above water. Catching up with her breath, she managed a glimpse of her surroundings. She regretted it instantly.
The water around her seemed suddenly calm. The water stretched out, undisturbed, as far as she could possibly see. She felt a chill run down her frame when she realized that she could no longer see the ship. There was nothing there to suggest that complete chaos had taken place there moments before. There was nothing but ocean.
She was still staring out at the vast expanse of nothingness when her feet brushed against something firm. Never before had she been quite so relieved to feel the land beneath her, collapsing onto it the moment she was safely out of the water. She laid against the sand, feeling the sand on the skin of her arms and her hands, heaving. Though she could hear movement beside her, she dared not speak. Only one person. She trembled at the thought, not wishing to discover so quickly who it was that had pulled her out of the treacherous water. An entire crew, lost. No matter who stood beside her, it would not be enough. Somebody, everybody else, had surrendered to the sea.
Avoiding a glance at the figure, she turned away as she sat up. She was afraid to look at him, afraid to know which of her comrades she had seen for the last time.
“Rex?” Though the voice was low and steady, she could hear the faint traces of worry and grief that she knew others might not notice. She knew her captain's voice better than her own. It had always been a comforting sound, one of familiarity and steadiness, and yet hearing the sound now was like a blow to her gut. Her fingernails dug into the sand as she clenched her fists, bending forward slightly. A ship full of men, and only one remained.
“Scourge,” she said faintly, her voice hoarse and raspy. Ignoring him now useless, she turned to face him. The captain was sitting up, though not entirely on his own. He leaned against the flat surface of one of the many rocks that lined the shore, his breathing as desperate and ragged as her own. She could see his skin through the fabric of his sopping wet shirt, his unusually white hair plastered to his forehead with saltwater. His eyes, shifting between tones of green and brown, were fixed on her in wary concern as he waited for her to move or speak.
For a long moment, she did neither. She could feel the tears stinging in her eyes and blinked them away, shutting her eyes tightly and gripping the sand in her fingers to steady herself. A deep breath. A slow exhale. She would manage this.
Though she could feel the captain's eyes on her she knew he would not disturb her. It had been the captain, after all, that had first taught her the importance of self-control. It took more time than Rex wanted to admit, but slowly the shaking in her arms faded. She could breathe normally again and she no longer struggled to hold back tears. The dead-weight feeling in her stomach, however, could not be erased. Instead, it was ignored. Though it did not help her ill, nauseous feeling, she spit the taste of salt out of her mouth.
“We came all this way,” she said bitterly, “just to fail.” Rex met the captain's eyes, finding them nearly unreadable for the first time in many years. His lips fell apart as he began to answer, though the words died in his mouth before she heard them. He looked away from her, hazel eyes widening as she turned to the water again.
Seeing the small boat, she almost thought her heart had skipped a beat before realizing that the passenger on the lifeboat was too small and far too rigid and immobile to be a sailor. The metal supports of the wooden chest gleamed in the sunlight, looking as though it had never touched a drop of water. The vessel carried it smoothly across the water as Rex and her captain watched with astonishment, seeming to glide to the shore where it rested, the chest sitting safely dry atop it.
- Quote
- Scourge would forever enjoy watching the energy and life of the town square. Though the atmosphere changed slightly with every country he visited, the bustling activity and liveliness of the people around him always called to his attention. He stood out of the way, keeping to the shadows cast by the buildings around him. Repeatedly flicking one shiny golden coin from the back of his thumb into the palm of his hand, he watched the square full of moving figures, all dressed in varying colors and styles, each attending to his or her own mundane business; a man haggling with a shopkeeper for cheap goods, a group of elderly women exchanging gossip beside the fountain, groups of children running rampant through the crowds, playing a game of touch and chase. It was enough activity to keep a man such as himself interested for hours, though the young woman standing b*-y his side did not feel the same.
Standing much shorter than the man, Rex sighed impatiently, glaring at the crowds before her. “Can we not finish our business here and get back to the ship, Captain?” She brushed flyaway yellow hair out of her face and looked over at the man she was addressing, who for a few moments made no sign that he’d heard her words. Eventually, he turned his head and smiled.
“Would you not care to explore, Rex? I do prefer the open ocean, but the ship is only so large. There is much to see here and much to do before we set sail again. But perhaps if you are that restless, you could find the rest of the crew and aid them in their work before we return to the ship tonight. It should keep you busy enough.”
“I would rather avoid that band of idiotic, drunken men while we’re on land, if you don’t mind,” Rex said stiffly. “I’d like to get back to the ship and out of this ridiculous dress as soon as possible.” She tugged on the violet fabric of her clothing, despising it and the necessity of wearing it in town.
“Well, I am sure you are capable of amusing yourself for a couple of hours, yes? Find a way to spend that gold I gave you or head to the gambling hall. Perhaps with some practice, you will finally win when playing me at cards.” At this she scowled.
“You know perfectly well they wouldn’t allow a woman inside a gambling hall. Perhaps accompanied by one such as you, or perhaps if I was only there to serve rum to the men, but not to gamble.”
“Were you not saying only yesterday that you needed a new shirt, considering that you ripped yours in combat practice? I am sure you could find something to your liking while we are here.”
“I may do that, sir. I suppose I wouldn’t mind finding something to do with this gold.”
“Run off, then. I will meet you back at the ship...after. As usual.” She nodded and stepped away, disappearing in the crowds of people. He worried not for her. Though it was unusual for a woman to walk the town streets unaccompanied by a man, Rex was no ordinary woman and Scourge pitied the scoundrel who dared cross her.
It was high-noon and the square was at its busiest time of day. The crowd was thick as he crossed the square as everyone around him engaged in some sort of trivial activity. Merchants called out to and haggled prices with customers, selling anything from food to clothing to household wares. He desired none of these things but stopped at many merchant stalls regardless, often simply to admire the craftsmanship of whatever object he was looking at. He pulled out his gold for very little and only bought what he could fit in his pocket. He was just beginning to think that it might be time to return to his ship when a disturbance in the square caused him to look over, interested.
Six men brightly dressed in a number of different colors stepped into the brightest spot in the square, glancing at one another as though waiting for something, their unusual clothing enough to gather quite a few odd looks from the townsfolk. Five of the men looked over at the sixth, who was clad in shades of deep red and yellow. He stood solidly for a moment, glancing at the people around him, before raising his hands and beginning to clap slowly in a firm and steady rhythm, causing more heads to turn his way.
After a moment, he was joined in his clapping by the man next to him, who began smacking his palms together as well. They did not clap at the same time, however, and one man would clap just at the other was pulling his hands apart, working in rhythmic harmony. The remaining four men added to the show, adding their own hands to the percussion one after the other until the clapping sounds blended together in perfect timing and synchronization. With each pair of hands that were added to the percussion, the intensity of the beat grew and the quicker the song became. Scourge watched in fascination as the patterns of sound gradually became more complex and intricate, moving in closer as the crowd around the men grew thicker.
The song grew in fierceness and intensity, becoming both demanding and intoxicating, and it was at this point that the six men moved apart, separating themselves into two groups of three while being careful never to break the rhythm or skip a beat, and from the space between the groups stepped a young girl. Thinking it interesting that he should consider her a girl when he thought of Rex as a woman though they seemed to be about the same age, he watched as she began to move, nimble on her feet and tambourine in hand. The noon-hour sun illuminated the folds of her pale marigold skirt as she began to move on the balls of her feet, dancing with her heels raised off of the ground. She smacked the tambourine she held in accompaniment to the clapping of the men behind her, twirling and moving to the rhythms they provided, the golden coins adorning her wrists and ankles and hanging from the bottom edge of her bodice clanged together sharply as she twisted.
At once, five of the men clapped in unison sharply and froze, leaving only the sixth continuing his rhythm as he moved toward the dancer. He was younger than the rest but still looked a few years older than the girl, clad in bright blues and greens. There was a mutual sort of affection between them as the two began to work together, she a swirl of color and he a show of quick footwork, with his hands and her tambourine working together to create a beat that was simpler but just as impressive as before. There was a harmony between them and between the other men as they rejoined the clapping, fluidly working together until six pairs of hands were working with the tambourine her clanging coins, the beat rapidly gaining speed and building up to a crescendo of percussion.
“Come away, Jacob! Don’t you go any closer!” screeched a voice to Scourge’s left. He looked around, watching as a woman tugged a small boy away from the crowd, looking both angry and suspicious. “Don’t you know they’ll steal you away and cook you for supper?” She ignored his cries of protest and picked him up, carrying him away from the dancers. Scourge shook his head and glanced back at the gypsies, though the show was now over and the man in red was collecting coins from those who had observed the spectacle. Taking a small number of coins from his pocket and tossing them into the container the man held out, Scourge strode past the crowd and over to the boy in blue, who was now talking to the girl in the marigold skirt.