Epander 2.II

Second update of the second Epander chapter. Don't really have much more to add here, other than that I've been having a Hell of a time motivating myself to write this month. Writer's block is something that I'll probably talk about in greater length later on, making note also of Steven Pressfield's concept of resistance. In the meantime, I have these pictures here in case you couldn't imagine the man that I describe in this passage. Enjoy.

After some length of torment that he had been vexed with, a man came into the room, a slave to beckon him forth to treat with his master. Epander regarded the man for moments more, noting his curly black hair and beard, luxuriously silky and certainly striking, standing him out as of the Haxanoi, the native peoples who ruled a great empire before Agenor Emikelos took it from them and made it his own. He adorned himself with a some manner of achiton, a robe and shawl which appeared as but a single garment, matching a tall cylindrical hat, all in a pale red, all bordered with silk of gold. In addition he wore large hooped earrings of gold and a great hooping necklace just the same, both matching the ornamental dagger which he wore at his belt, the handle and scabbard of gold and adorned with gems. This man that they had sent to him was not a slave after all.

The Haxanoi gave an obeisant bow which to him seemed exaggerated. Perhaps all within the capital acted as such, giving their courtesies with such vigour, they hide the malice behind gritted smiles, stretched as wide as could be. The man rose back up to his full stature and spake such, “It is this one’s pleasure to give greetings unto you, Epander Theophilos of Khatria. It is also this one’s honour to introduce himself as Kaveh Kshaeta, of a long and noble family of the Haxansiya, for centuries we have flourished. If you might accompany me, I will bring you to one of the preeminent members of the Basileus’s circle, Miltiades Nikandros. It is he who shall determine your worth.”

Epander stood quite abruptly at this point, and it was fortunate that this man has stopped speaking, lest that he seemed discourteous. He may have distaste for the behaviors of the court that he was amongst, but it was disadvantageous for him to upset it so greatly. He stood up suddenly, taking his retinue off-guard, but they all rose just as he did, albeit apprehensively. “Very well, Kaveh Kshaeta. Show me to Miltiades Nikandros.” He said nothing more. His distaste bled through his words, rather than to remain in his veins, where it belonged.

Epander 2.I

I decided to go ahead and continue on with the second Epander chapter, straight out of the first one. I would like to say that it was incredibly hard to find any imagery of Hellenistic period palaces, particularly the interior. That none really are left is a given, but has so little effort been put into their reconstruction? Well, by that I mean to say that there are no sketches or paintings or anything. Weird.

He sat in a parlour of bravura splendor, pillars of lavish black marble supporting the ceiling, the capstones profligately gilded with gilt, carved as though they were rose vines joining the onyx pillars to the ceiling. Tapestries hung from near every wall, woven with threads of silver and gold to commemorate victories over lesser peoples, subjugated by right of the strength of the victor, separating lifelike statues of Basileis and generals past alike. The floor was of black and white marble, flawlessly situated with one another. The room was absolutely beautiful and absolutely perfect, and all of it made him sick; absolutely sick to the stomach with absolute disgust.

He waited there with his personal slave, Apistos, as well as two others that he had taken with him, as he would certainly have need of their service. He was a long way from home, in a city foreign to all of them, and had dire need of their assistance in the capital of the largest nation in the world. He had picked slaves whose loyalty he was beyond sure of, as in a place like this, and for what he was tasked to do here, he must be absolutely sure that he would not face betrayal from those who he thought were the only ones he could truly trust. They were all foreigners here.

Epander was certainly nervous. He didn’t even feel particularly perturbed, but as he looked down at his hands which lay placed on his thighs, he could not help but be taken aback by just how blanched they appeared to have been, stressed even further in contemplation of whether or not indeed the rest of him kept the appearance of being so devoid of the sanguine humours, for when soon invariably he should need to make acquaintance with high ranking officials within the palace of the Basileus of Arche Aigaios. He had to be calm, to bestill his beating bosom, to flush his fingers and face.

And so he sat, left to wallow within his own apprehension for the predicament with which he was beset, mere iotas of time stretching themselves thin as they grinded themselves into greater length. Silence harassed him excepting the breaths of his slaves in the room with him, the occasional shifting in their seats or adjustment of apparel. Every correction in their cloth was like a needle to his mind, interrupting everything which flowed through it and bringing him great discomfort. Even so, his mind could only race with every possibility, everything that may possibly got wrong, every terrible outcome that may come of this. He speculated doubtfully within his own mind if silence would have been better than the noises which afflicted him, only for all he would have been left with was for his heart to thump, and thump, and thump.

Keeping It All Organized

So, I'm going to take a brief interlude and talk about worldbuilding, and more specifically, how I keep everything organized as I'm developing the world about which I'm writing. Some people advocate creating an entire world before one begins to work on writing to ensure that there is a set of internally consistent rules that govern it. For the most part, I agree with this, that you need to have some basics covered, but beyond those very basics, I feel that it hampers the story, characters, and world itself by constraining it to certain rules.

As I work I obviously have a general idea in mind, but I more or less come up with specifics as I come to them, even introduction of supporting characters who may or may not end up becoming important later on. One such character, the woman Sentinus meets in the loo, I would actually definitely like to reintroduce later on, but created her on a whim.

At any rate, when I do come up with these characters, cultures, locations, deities, and everything else, I add entries about them to their appropriate file that I've made in what I've labelled as my 'encyclopedia.' Realistically, I've introduced over sixty characters already, and most all of their names are Greek, Latin, or Celtic. There's even a man with an ancient Persian name. It can get kind of hard to keep up with them, so I put a little entry in, how they are described, and how they relate to others, as necessary.

I also have lots of notes, in general and of specific characters, as each of the folders (barring the map one) is of a specific character and things that I've planned to have happen to them. This doesn't even include my plot MSWord file, which I suppose I'll talk about at a later time. I also keep track of things which I'd like to write about, usually specific emotional responses or experiences, as well as potential quotes or my bastardizations of them.

And in reality, I have no idea is this makes me meticulously organized about my writing or not at all. I have no idea what manner of note-taking that other writers do, or how they organize it, but this is how I've managed it, just in case you all were wondering, which I'm quite sure that you were. Worry not though, loyal readers, my next entry will resume actual creative writing.

Epander VIII

And so concludes the proposed first chapter of the novel. I hope that it's actually really entertaining and draws the reader in to read more, as the first chapter is realistically the most important one, as it makes the readers (and publisher) actually want to read more, which would result in money for me. If you have any comments to help make it better, or for any post that I've ever made, be sure to put them here, let me know. I can't make this better unless I get feedback

She looked almost horrified, and he could completely understand why. He was leaving a quarter ways across the world and the last thing that he could remember is her cutting him. He had to laugh, it was the only thing that he could do. After all, at this point he was out of tears. Instead he embraced her and brought her close to his body, kissing her atop her head. “Don’t worry one bit, my darling” he whispered. “At least I’ll be able to carry this and always think of you whene’er I look down. And worry not, I’ll always view it fondly.”

He hugged Korinna as tight as he could and held her that way for more than few breaths and then released her, cradling her face as he came in to deliver another long kiss with closed eyes, punctuated with another two short ones. Her jaw was quivering slightly, but she stubbornly refused to cry any longer. There was nothing more that he could do. She gazed up at him and said, “I’ll miss you.”

He smiled down at her and responded in gentle tones, “I’ll miss you too, darling of mine. And always know that I love you.”

“Just as I shall always love you.” That was it. If there were words from her mouth which he wanted to be the last that he ever heard, it was her profession of her own love for him. Now he had that, and now it was time for him to leave. He mustered the best, most loving smile that he could muster and turned around to mount his horse. Epander grasped its mane with both hands, behind the ear and at the base of the neck and leapt, swinging his right leg over the horse. Upon doing so, three slaves who had accompanied them here, who were leaving with him, all mounted themselves.

He took in a deep breath, and then another. This was the moment. This was it. He was leaving. He tapped his heels into flanks of his steed and it began to walk, to walk slowly away. He could not look back, for he could not bear to look back and see her, to see if she was upset, for it would only make it worse for the both of them. This is how it had to be, and as much as he wanted to turn around, as much as he wanted to turn his horse around, he never looked back.

Epander VII

I was briefly considering change the name of this character to Epandros just yesterday, as I suddenly realized that Epander was the Latin version of the Greek name, despite that it sounds much better as it. I was reconciled, but then when I remembered that there was another character named Erastios, I decided gleefully that it was likely best to keep his name the same to avoid confusion, and then was happier knowing that I was able to keep the better-sounding name. In other news, I've reached 42,500 words, which is roughly my 'halfway mark' for completion before I need to buckle down to edit it and rewrite half of everything. On that note, if any of you, dear readers, notice something that you believe needs revision, whether it be an error in spelling, grammar, or just not phrased well or a scene superfluous, let me know. The more input that I have, the better of an art I can make in the end.

She snickered and she smiled, though with his doubts for himself he could do naught but to doubt the authenticity of her own expressions. She beamed up at him with tear-laced eyes and answered, “Ever since you began to doubt yourself, your own philosophy, everything that you've yet made yourself out to be. As your wife it is my duty to make sure that you are the best man that you can be, and here this is what I am doing.”

His jaw clenched, his fists tightened, his eyes narrowed. Once again she was correct and enforcing his own contemplations upon him himself. What was he to do once he had left and no longer did he have her to advise him of his own judgment? With a sigh he gave her an elongated kiss on the forehead and momentarily made his response, “As you have and as you should. I will be left incomplete as a human without you by my side, but regrettably this is the lot that has been chosen for us. The threads of fate are not so easily avoided, and better I say that man meet his own head-on, rather than to have it breach him unexpectedly.”

“And this is why so many consider you to be a man of conviction, for they are unable to see you here with me. It touches my heart but tears it just the same, to see you like this.”

He pushed himself up onto his knees and then stood, grabbing her hands and helping her to stand up with him. They held one another’s hands for a moment and then a moment more, gazing into one another’s eyes, unable to conjure any words which they could present to the other. Korinna took up her right hands and slapped it down upon his chest, her mouth open as though to say something at last but was interrupted by a grimace upon Epander’s face, a slight bit of pain causing him to look down and observe a scratch dribbling blood which had just formed on his chest. One of her rings had turned around backwards and a gemstone had raked his skin, cutting him.

Epander VI

I'm a bit late in updating today, as I went down to visit with friends for a birthday and had an absolute blast at a 1920s/30s themed party. A chinchilla bit off part of my nail and a towel caught on fire. C'est la vie. However, on the way back the train was delayed by two hours, and then they hired buses to take us up instead, which is much slower and more uncomfortable. Turns out the train had hit someone before it made it to our station and killed two people. Last week I was on another train which had hit and killed someone, but it was only delayed by an hour. People need to learn that they cannot outrun a train. They will die. It is not worth it. Also, it is impossible to find ancient art where people are just hugging or something. They're always having sex or doing stuff like this:

If he had been hoping for words to ease his spirit, these were not they. She broke out into sobbing tears, and he could not help but to reciprocate. He let himself down and grasped her within his arms as tightly as he may, tears draining quickly from his eyes even as he may try to choke them back, hoping that if he should hold her tightly enough that he would never have to let go, that he would never have to leave her. What made this all the worse is that he knew that he was lying to himself. His stomach was still convulsing and his tears still draining as he felt her hands gently caress his face. She was still crying herself, but somehow she was the strong one in all of this, comforting him with words as such, “If you were not weeping here with me, I would not be weeping myself, but filled with anger. That you are in such anguish for me shows me just how necessary that it is for you to leave. I will never again be complete without you, but you will never be complete without leaving.”

He wasn’t sure if he could continue to cry, but her words found a way to make it so. He wept and he blubbered, but was finally able to manage the words, “I love you.”

Somehow even if his tears were unable to move her, his words did, bringing her into a more debilitated state before she was able to respond in words broken with sobbing tears, “I love you too.”

The only resolution which he could bring to the forefront of his mind was to let himself go and hold himself to her, to hold on to her and not let go. His eyes were tightly shut, but he felt her breath upon his ear to precede her voice whispering, “You have to leave. If you cannot leave now, I both pray and fear that you never shall. Would that you could stay my weary heart would rejoice for all that it may, but the voices of many should be drowned. You must not now think for me, you must not think for yourself but for the good of many.”

Epander briefly squeezed her more tightly and bowed his head, nuzzling his face into her neck, before he released her and pushed himself somewhat up and with faintly dryer eyes responded, “Was it not I who said that I must leave, that I must compose myself as you just now say? Tell me please, when was it that we changed in our philosophy?” He smiled and he laughed and tears still welled in his eyes. He could not tell whether any of these were genuine or forced any longer, but that they came to his face just the same.

Epander V

Apologies, I went away and was entirely occupied by participating in a marathon of gaming for 72 hours to raise money for charity, where I was one of the commentators, and was out of town and had no access to my computer for the last three updates.  Today, I'm just really late and have no excuse.  Better late than never, I suppose.  Being gone and away from home for so long also means that I've really fallen behind on my writing.  My goal was to get to 42500 words this weekend, but I'm not sure if I'll be able to make it.  I'll just have to really pull myself up by the bootstraps and just get it done.  (This mosaic is of a sad woman.)

He opened his eyes to see her already gazing back up at him and quickly shifted his gaze from one eye to the other, she doing the same, both their eyes twitching back and forth. He could not but help to close his eyes and lay down a third kiss upon her lips, pressing heavily into them, his eyes still yet a dam on the verge of overflowing. How could he be such a fool? Everything that he could ever have wanted lay here beneath him, her body adjoined to his very own. No. No, he had to tell himself. He could not let his beating heart stop him, could not let it overtake him, as much as he should want it to be able to. His ideal was greater than his heart, it was greater than him, it was greater than them both. Still, how lovely her lips felt.

As he drew himself away once more his jaw began to shudder as his hands shook beyond his control. Tears which had walled themselves up within his eyes freed themselves and poured down upon her own face below. She almost laughed, but it was a laugh stuck in her very own throat as tears streamed down from either eyes. She was crying, yet she was laughing at him for doing the very same.

His voice was caught in his throat, but he mustered all the will that he may to whimper down unto her, “I’m so sorry.” He tried to say it again and a third time but even as he mouthed it the words would not produce, refusing to exit in such sorrow as he was held.

She bit her lip in what seemed almost as a laugh, but what he could really tell was an attempt to swallow her own sorrow. “I know” she said. This made him scoffingly laugh but only weep more deeply before she continued, “But I love you. I love you more than anything. I wish for nothing more than that you might stay with me, but I am resigned to your departure, for I know that you must leave for reasons greater than either of us.” These words meant everything to him, yet nothing at the same time. It was doubtful that anything could be done to abate his grief at this time. “Just go. Just go now and do what is requisite of you. I shall endure as I always have, but never forget me, for know that I shall never forget you.”