#lofm.wip

[kaatiba]

Ok, here I go: im zero drafting LofM, as inspired by @bebewrites

#IM SCARED THERES NOT ENOUGH PLOT AHHH #lofm.wip

[kaatiba]

The Storyteller, The Djinn & The Prince ✧ a WIP Re-Introduction

The crown prince has been kidnapped by the djinn, and his mother will stop at nothing to find him and bring him home, even if it means marching into the realm of the Unseen on what everyone insists is a hopeless mission. He's gone, she is told. Grieve him, for he is as good as dead. If he is returned to you, he will not be the same child you knew. But he isn't dead, and Queen Sirin refuses to accept his loss, refuses to grieve him, even if she is called mad for her insistence that he is alive, for her determination to rescue him. She cares not that no one has ever returned from such a venture. She's going to save her son or die trying. Enter Halah; the only person taken by the djinn who claims to have escaped them, rather than been returned. Only she can lead Queen Sirin and her cousin, Raoul, into the Unseen realm and guide them through the kingdom of the djinn...so when Sirin pleads for her help, she agrees. She can't abandon a child, even one she doesn't know. Even if it does mean returning to the last place in all the realms she ever wants to see again...

[[ Updates below the cut! ]]

Sixteen-ish years of working on this wip and I finally have a title! My favourite thing about the new title is that it all refers to multiple characters, which is SO fun to me. Spoilers though, so I shan't say more about that.

The title came to me just after suhoor (~6 am) in March, and I was so excited I immediately jotted it down in my phone before I fell asleep. Legends of Mourra was always the series title, but the volume I've been working on is the first in a series of standalone novels set in this world I've created!

For the longest time, I'd been planning for LofM to be a duology + a spin-off. But as volume no.1's story changed (and as I've changed as a writer), I've come to realize and accept that this is going to be a self-contained story and it works so much better that way. I've finally fully let go of the last remnants of the Grand™ Plot spanning entire decades that I'd initially conceived of. The Storyteller, The Djinn, & The Prince will be very much in the vein of a tale from Arabian Nights, self-contained and (hopefully) satisfying.

I've also finally allowed this to be truly my MC Halah's story, which is reflected in the title (she's the storyteller....or, one of them...). Weird, I know, but I'd initially wanted to write this from the pov of a 'sidekick' to the 'main heroes', but that meant I'd resisted actually letting Halah be a fully realized character. It made my story feel very flat and surface level. I only belatedly realized I could still make it seem so from the perspective of the events that occur in-universe, while still allowing Halah to be the main character of her own life, as we all our to ourselves.

I'll keep the tags I've been using because I'm used to them, so if you want more updates you can keep an eye on the #lofm.wip and #lofm.inspo tags specifically or #kaatibawrites tag more generally.

Thanks for reading!

#lofm.wip #kaatibawrites #wip reintroduction #wip introduction #kaatiba.edits

[kaatiba]

I am excited and proud to present the prologue to volume one of my fantasy series, Legends of Mourra, featuring a kidnapped prince, a rescue mission, djinn, and lingering legends.

With much love to @treesandwords, @olive-riggzey, @malglories, @anubisisms, @a-dream-deferred, @dogscomplex, @tracle0, @demythologized for your interest! 💕

#lofm.wip #wip excerpt #kaatibawrites #do let me know if the link is working #im getting intermitten errors #if so ill share it in full on tumblr without the external link

[kaatiba]

Legends of Mourra - The Prologue

I am excited and proud to present the prologue to volume one of my fantasy series, Legends of Mourra, featuring a kidnapped prince, a rescue mission, djinn, and lingering legends. Because some people are reporting issues with accessing the site, I'm sharing it in full here below the cut!

Wordcount: 2.3k

Once there lived, in the kingdom of Mourra, a woman as beautiful as the night sky. Her face was as round and bright as the faces of the moons-in-full, her eyes the pale grey of starlight, her hair as dark as the space between stars and falling in a lustrous veil to her feet, with beads of pearls woven through the strands. Her name was Nur-al-Hayat, and she was a poet and songstress of surpassing ability, her voice so lovely it was said to tame wild beasts and move even stone to tears.​

King Haitham heard rumour of this lady and summoned her to his palace to sing for him and his court. Dutifully, she appeared. All attending were much struck by her beauty, and the king not least of all, stepping forward to greet and welcome her himself. Bowing elegantly, Nur-al-Hayat smiled demurely up at him and told him she had composed a poem especially for the occasion, and if the king would give her leave, she would be honoured to recite it for his pleasure.

Gratified by her courtesy, the king graciously bade her feel free.

With a voice as melodious as any songbird’s, accompanied by the skillful strumming of her qanun, Nur-al-Hayat wove a tale of the fall of the Lost Kingdom of Zerzura and the queen of that kingdom, who was called Zarqa’a. With great mastery did Nur-al-Hayat conjure for them a vision of that golden kingdom, illustrious and magnificent, with its great tower reaching for the heavens and its bountiful gardens of lush greenery and fragrant blooms spilling from their bounds.

Nur-al-Hayat’s very form seemed to take on that of Zarqa’a's as she wove her enchanting tale. Her audience exulted as the queen won renown and acclaim for her wisdom and keen sight, and fretted when rumour began to spread that, rather than skill, she had foreknowledge of future events. In growing perturbation they saw her enemies denounce her as an oracle, a mistress of djinn, and with outrage saw them seek to depose and kill her out of envy and covetousness for the prosperous kingdom, the jewel of the continent.

Many were moved to tears as Nur-al-Hayat spoke of how, in vain, Zarqa’a pleaded with her husband and her people, warning them of an enemy amassing in the desert, come to destroy them utterly, and was dismissed, for who could overcome the might of Zerzura? With hearts aching, they grieved as Zerzura was overrun, as Zarqa’a was captured and her eyes plucked out, as she was abandoned in the ruins of her city, with nothing but her sorrow to accompany her.

Her sultry voice lowering, Nur-al-Hayat dispelled the vision, solemnly conveying that though Zerzura was destroyed so utterly that only ruins now remain, and Zarqa’a’s ultimate fate is lost to the sands of time, every one of the queen’s enemies perished within a year of her death, and she alone ascended into the annals of history, to be remembered forever.

Applause thundered through the court as Nur-al-Hayat allowed her voice and her instrument to quiet. She bowed again, smiling sweetly, her eyes on the king, who went to her and raised her up and bowed over her hand, proclaiming her the finest poet and orator of Mourra.

It was with no great surprise that the King married her within the year, so entranced by her beauty, charm, and poetic skill as he was. And for a time they were happy, deeply so.

But it did not last.

Nur-al-Hayat was a woman of great ambition, and she saw in Mourra the potential to be more than just a kingdom, but an empire, and for herself to be more than queen, but empress. It was with envy that she listened to tales of the expansion of Diara, a country to the west that glutted itself year by year on its neighbours, while the King and the Council were uneasy and alarmed by this rapid and terrible conquest. Greatly did she wish for Haitham to put aside his peace-keeping ways and to look to his neighbours, if not in conquering wrath then in cunning alliance that would result in their subjugation to Mourra.

Haitham would not do as she advised him, for every argument of hers which moved the warrior heart of the king was overcome by the cooling, cautionary words of Luqman the Keeper of the Great Library, one of his closest and most trusted advisors. He alone was permitted to scribe within the Chronicles of Mourra, the sacred tomes of history in which were recorded every notable event since the time of Mourra’s founding and which could contain nothing of falsehood.

The queen grew resentful and discontent. She determined that if her husband did not love her nor value her enough to seek her approbation above all others, if he could not and would not share in her glorious vision, then she would find someone who did.

She set her gimlet gaze on the King’s army commander, Yusr, who had long held—and long-buried—a seed of malcontent, for in these times of peace, he had so little to do and despaired that he would ever achieve any glory for his prowess as warriors and tacticians, as his forefathers of old had.

Nur-al-Hayat knew this, and preyed on this, and found in Commander Yusr a man willing to be entranced by her ambitions. For many months, the King was none the wiser as they trysted and as they plotted, for Nur-al-Hayat commissioned a pavilion for herself—ostensibly so that she could compose her poetry without disturbance—and forbade any from disturbing her. There she would meet her lover and co-conspirator in secret.

Together they aimed to persuade the Council on matters of war, alliances, and expansion, garnering support slowly and cunningly in an attempt to achieve a majority vote, and working ever to advise the King to align with their aims. And so things might have continued, if Keeper Luqman and the Wazīr—the King’s younger brother, Imtiaz—had not intervened.

Keeper Luqman had known since first meeting her that Nur-al-Hayat was not to be trusted. Gifted with the ability to see something of the secret aspects of people’s hearts, he knew that the queen was ambitious to the point of imprudence and greed, but knew also that the king loved her so deeply that he would be (and often was) wroth at any suggestion of fault in his wife. Without proof of any wrongdoing, Luqman could do nothing but hold his tongue, watch her shadow, and hope that her love for his Majesty, true as it was, would not be deficient and might overcome her avarice.

The Wazīr, meanwhile, was alarmed at the changing of the opinions of the Council, whose members had begun to whisper, though not yet outright proclaim, that the King curtailed the might of their country and that it was foolish to watch and hope that the Diaran Empire might not soon look to them as a starving wolf looks to a lamb unguarded. That they should demonstrate their might and expand upon it, and thus cow the Empire entirely and—if they could not—then they might at least meet the Diaran’s on equal footing. Imtiaz had traced the source of some of these whispering to the commander, but he knew Yusr must have an ally elsewhere, and a powerful one too, and he was alarmed that he could not discover who it might be.

Together, Luqman and Imtiaz spoke, and Luqman revealed his suspicions of the queen, and Imtiaz believed him, and believed also that she was the commander’s supporter and the spur to his ideas. They might have approached the king even then, with no concrete proof to provide him, had the queen not fortuitously announced that she was with child. The king’s joy was so great that they knew they could tell him nothing of their suspicions, but still, they sought proof in desperate secret.

And then the king began to sicken from a mysterious wasting disease that stripped him of his flesh and vitality, as though he and he alone was struck by a famine. Nothing and no one could avail him of his suffering, though remedies, tinctures, poultices, and medicines from all over the kingdom and even from their neighbours were tried and applied. Luqman looked at Nur-al-Hayat and saw carefully concealed vindictive delight rather than grief in her lovely eyes, and knew then that he must speak against her…or lose his king.

He and Imtiaz approached King Haitham and bade him follow them and witness something that might heal him, though the healing would not come without some suffering, if he had the courage to face it. Neither of them would say aught else, and weakened by his disease but curious, the king submitted to their urging and followed. He was led by secret ways in the palace to the queen’s pavilion, and before he could ask in bewildered unease what they were about, directed to a window carefully screened, and bade him look and see what he might see there.

The king looked within and was met with devastation on devastation. Nur-al-Hayat lay in the arms of Yusr, his commander. They spoke of the king’s illness and named it poison, and laughed cruelly, and hoped that he might succumb to it soon so they could be free to pursue their aims and their love. And as they spoke, Yusr caressed the queen’s quickening form and rejoiced that their child might soon rule Mourra and—if all went according to their plan—an empire.

“And it shall surpass even the might and glory of Zerzura,” Nur-al-Hayat replied exultantly.

She had never looked so beautiful, nor seemed so monstrous, to Haitham before.

The depth of the king’s heartache and betrayed fury cannot be expressed. It was so great, in fact, that he swooned and had to be bodily led away by his Keeper and Wazīr. Devastated, but unable to deny the proof of his own ears and eyes, the King summoned Nur-al-Hayat and Yusr to a private trial attended only by the Keeper and the Wazīr.

In a voice devoid of emotion, he laid out the charges of adultery, to their shock, dismay, and immediate denials. So King Haitham brought forth Yusr and Nur-al-Hayat’s personal attendants, who confessed to knowledge of the crimes committed against king and country. By this, Yusr was silenced and, belligerently shamefaced, he bowed his head and would say nothing more in defense of himself.

The queen, however, persisted in protesting her innocence. With a great display of feigned emotion, she spun a tale of coercion on Yusr’s part and weakness of vanity on her own, naming herself a victim and a fool, implying the affair was because the king had made her feel less esteemed in his affection, and begged his mercy and forgiveness. To this, King Haitham looked to Luqman, who solemnly procured an effigy of the king made of knotted string and hair. At the sight of it, Nur-al-Hayat went red, and then white, and quieted abruptly.

“I might have believed you,” King Haitham said slowly, “Even now, even though I myself witnessed your betrayal of me. But Luqman searched your quarters and your pavilion at my command and discovered this thing, and we know it to be the means by which you have poisoned me. We know you to be a magician of foul arts. We know you to be false to your core.”

At his direction, the effigy was burned then and there, and is it blazed into ash, health and vitality seemed to flow into the king, the hollows of his face filling and the lines of premature age upon his brow fading, the haggard diminishment of his figure vanishing like a mirage in the desert.

“For this and your other crimes,” the King intoned, his voice strong as it had once been but no less cold, “You are each of you sentenced to death.”

Nur-al-Hayat cried out and fell to her knees, swearing by the Creator that she was no magician, that she had created no such thing and knew nothing of it, but the king would not believe her, and his face grew thunderous that she would persist in her lies. And then Nur-al-Hayat knew that all his love of her had been extinguished and her end approached, but still she begged the king for his mercy for the sake of her unborn child, innocent of its mother’s crimes.

So great and terrible was the king’s devastation and wrath that he might have condemned her regardless, for he did not believe this child truly his, even as she insisted it was, and that she had lied to Yusr to manipulate him further for her aims. But Luqman advised the king against this evil; whatever other lies she told, Nur-al-Hayat spoke truly on the innocence of her child.

“You may live,” the king decreed, eyes burning like black flame as he regarded her with loathing and misery. “You may live, but I exile you and yours forever, but your name shall be struck from the Chronicles and you shall be Nameless. Never again will anyone speak it to you, nor call you by it, nor recall that it once belonged to you. You will be forgotten, utterly. I renounce your child from any claim of kinship upon me and mine. I renounce you as my wife.”

At this the Nameless Queen was wroth as a viper. She would have thrown herself at him to claw at his face like a wild creature, but Yusr–spurred by the revelation of her sorcery into realizing her evil—held her back. Tearing herself from his hold, the Nameless Queen spat at the King’s feet and swore by the Creator’s Name that he and all those he held dear would one day rue this day, and that she would be an enemy to him forever, in this world and the next.

And so ended the marriage, and the record, of she who was once Nur-al-Hayat, wife of King Haitham of Mourra.

But it was not the end of their story…

#lofm.wip #kaatibawrites #wip excerpt

[kaatiba]

9 lines, 9 folks

i was tagged by @zmwrites (thanks!), so here's nine sentences from lofm, which I said I'd work on this month and...barely have :(

Halah doesn’t know what Sirin would do except, probably, to gently chastise Raoul for his blunt disregard of her beliefs. But none of them would agree with her. None of them would think she was right. 

And the unfairness of it all has tears pricking at her eyes, but she’ll be damned if she lets Raoul make her cry ever again. So she bites hard at her tongue and looks away from him. After a moment, clearly interpreting her silence as agreement, Raoul shakes his head and leaves, shutting the door softly behind him.

Halah could resume her invocation. There’s no one to stop her and no one to know that she did it. But she’s angry and embarrassed and hurt and ashamed, so instead she changes and crawls into bed with her back to Sirin and squeezes her eyes shut until the urge to cry has subsided.

--

tagging without pressure: @thelittlestspider, @cascallisto, @ofgentlewolves, @rowanwriting, @pinespittinink, @treesandwords, @fayeiswriting, @ragewrites, @malimaywrite

#dramaaaaa i love it #lofm.wip #tag meme #kaatibawrites

[kaatiba]

Hey hey! I'm gonna post the entire prologue for LofM (1st draft version). If you interact with this post I'll tag you in the prologue! 👀

#i am telling myself sternly that when i share this i have no expectations of reads and reviews #but to paraphrase a tumblr post: art isnt complete until its witnessed #so a la mad max fury road: WITNESS ME #(please?) #kaatiba.speaks #lofm.wip

[kaatiba]

last line(s) tag

i was tagged by the delightful @muddshadow to share my last line! here you go!

[[ excerpt from legends of mourra, a muslim themed fantasy epic feat. a kidnapped prince, a rescue mission, djinn, and lingering legends ]]

Ilyas is looking at her with so much desperate hope in his face, and for a moment she doesn’t see him as he is now, his face bearded and marred by faded scars, but as he was when she first met him, freshly bleeding from the cut across his cheek, terrified and desperate and almost hopeless, almost broken—until she appeared, and he looked at her like she held his salvation in her hands.

She looks at him and remembers the young boy he was, and then she thinks of a different boy, far younger, in far more dire straights than even he was in. 

She remembers her nightmares. The small voice crying in the dark for his mother.

She remembers herself, terrified and terrorized and utterly, utterly hopeless.

She swallows around the stone in her throat. Forces her reluctant jaw to unclench. Dredges her voice up from the depths it has fled. 

“I’ll speak to them,” she croaks. “I’ll help.

I’ll tell them everything I know about being taken by the djinn.”

tagging: @treesandwords, @faytelumos, @laultimahijadelcaos, @chauceryfairytales, @hyba,  @poetinprose but no pressure or obligation!

lofm taglist (minus anybody double tagged, and also feel free to play!):  @jellybeanswriting, @sculpture-in-a-period-drama  

#lofm.wip #!!!!!!!!!!!!! #i love this lil snippet if i do say so myself!!! #writeblr excerpt #wip excerpt

[kaatiba]

last line(s) tag

i've been tagged by no one but i wanted to share and also read, so! tagging without pressure: @zmwrites, @treesandwords, @ragewrites, @malimaywrite, and anyone who sees this and wants to play! share one or more of the last lines you've written or edited!

this excerpt is from legends of mourra, my muslim themed, folklore inspired fantasy feat. a kidnapped prince, a rescue mission, djinn, and lingering legends. here, my crew have decided to take a rest stop at a caravanserai aka khal.

“If I may suggest, then, enjoy the hammams while your rooms are being readied. Laila will bring you some towels and soap, and once you’re out, dinner will be waiting for you. Your belongings you can keep with my son, he’ll guard ‘em.”  Raoul agrees to this and the khal-keeper booms a call for his daughter, who comes hurrying, drying damp hands on her apron. In due order they’ve wended their way through the crowds, crossed the courtyard full of camels, horses, mules, and tents, and separated for the hammams, which are, to Halah’s relief, clean and not overfull. 

taglist (ask to be +/-): @muddshadow, @lockejhaven, @tracle0, @anonymousfoz, @hyba, @poetinprose, @jellybeanswriting, @treesandwords, @sculpture-in-a-period-drama, @thelittlestspider

#kaatibawrites #lofm.wip #last line tag #tag meme #wip excerpt

[kaatiba]

Find the Vibe Tag

I was tagged by @zmwrites! Thank you!

I was given the vibe: “I need to get out of here.”

I tag @orphicpoieses, @helioselene, @serpentarii, and anyone else who wants to play! Your vibe is “This hunger's a living thing." (Interpret as you want).

Nujaym chitters at her and then rubs his body against her shins. Halah focuses on him and tries to steady her choked breaths, to force her lungs to expand normally and contract normally. She’s scared. She’s so, so scared about what she’s about to do and attempt. If no one else were involved and relying on her, she might let that fear control her. Might let it keep her from following through on her promises and plans. Might let it ruin what honour she has. She doesn’t remember the heroes and heroines of her favourite stories ever being gripped by such enormous and cowardly, selfish, terror. Yes, they’d been depicted as fearing for their lives, or their loved ones, or the fate of the world or the kingdom or something, but—nothing like what she’s feeling and wrestling with now. That’s why they’re legends, Halah tells herself bitterly. Some of the stories were founded in truth, but no minstrel or bard worth their salt would have depicted their hero as a craven coward. And yet, the shame she feels is not what ultimately drags her to her feet, pack in hand. No, it’s the knowledge that the agreed upon time has come and the queen is waiting for her—Raoul and Ilyas and Nilam are waiting for her. If she doesn’t go as agreed, if she doesn’t help spirit the queen from the palace, she knows the queen will decide to make the attempt on her lonesome and more than likely be caught. And then everything will be ruined and it’ll be her fault. The retribution that would follow would be entirely deserved.

taglist (ask to be +/-): @muddshadow, @lockejhaven, @tracle0, @poetinprose, @jellybeanswriting, @treesandwords, @sculpture-in-a-period-drama

#find the vibe tag #tag meme #kaatibawrites #lofm.wip #writeblr #wip excerpt #every time i feature halah she's having a lil breakdown....in her defence she is Going Through It #you can tell i've been writing when i suddenly respond to the things ive been tagged in #its cause now i have content lol #this is a first draft im powering through while crying tears of blood about it by the way #so pls be like. very nice. im intensely fragile

[kaatiba]

Ok had a lil breakdown about LofM, slept, and now....I'm either obstinate as hell or persevering, but. Somehow I'll make it work. I think I drifted away from what I'd reimagined it to be in 2020 and fell into the prev decade plotting traps that, in 2020, I knew I couldn't make work. So. Back to the drawing board. :[

(Shout-out to @malimaywrite for sending kind words last night, I went to sleep before I could reply but I saw your message ❤️)

I don't think I'll be writing content for it this month, but I have other wips I can focus on. Namely, Rivener, which I wanted to self-publish in 2024 anyway.

#kaatiba.speaks #lofm.wip #rivener.wip #rivener* #i dont remember my tags lol

[kaatiba]

Omg I'm writing LofM

#i told myself i wouldn’t this year after finishing the zero draft #told myself to work on rivener instead and let it rest #ofc my contrary brain said HERES 163937495 COOL IDEAS AND SCENES TO ADD TO LOFM #i go where the muse takes me helpless like a leaf in a storm drain 😫 #kaatiba.speaks #lofm.wip

[kaatiba]

one of the novels that impacted me so deeply that calling it a 'favourite' really doesn't encompass what it means to me is tigana by guy gavriel kay. and i didn't plan this, but reworking the pseudo-islamic religion of lofm to be poetry-based feels like a lovely link to it.

#everyone should read tigana #its quite timely too #it haunts me and makes me weep and its just. stunning #imagine losing your home so entirely and completely and comprehensively that no one but you can even use its NAME or REMEMBER it anymore #definitely not something a huge population is going through right now as we speak #kaatiba.speaks #lofm.wip

[kaatiba]

GUYS IM BREAKING NEW EARTH WITH LOFM!!!!!!! im officially past the previous farthest point ive ever written for this wip. this draft is at 18k and while i've written more than that for previous drafts, in terms of plot progression, i've never written this far before! im a 1/3 of the way (roughly) through lofm! AHHHHHHHH!!!!!

#ten years! TEN YEARS! A WHOLE DECADE AND IM FINALLY ON MY WAY #IM GOING TO VIBRATE RIGHT OUT OF MY CHAIR WITH JOY #WHICH IS A PROBLEM BC IM AT WORK #AHHHHHHHHHH #lofm.wip #kaatiba.speaks #chapter six here i commmmmeeeeee

[kaatiba]

@anubisisms replied to your post and said:

I loved it! I haven't seen any of your writing before now - I only really stumbled across your blog while browsing some writeblr mutuals, but I'm so glad I indulged my curiosity. What an absolute treat!!! I adore the writing style and you can colour me VERY intrigued. I can't wait to see more of it! You have a phenomenal story on your hands 🤗

Omg this was such a lovely message to wake up to, thank you so much for reading and reviewing!!! I'm so thrilled you enjoyed it! Really from the bottom of my heart, thank you ❤️❤️❤️

#dont mind me formatting my reply this way i wanna preserve this comment forever 💕💕💕💕💕💕 #replies #lofm.wip #thank you thank you thank you!

[kaatiba]

Legends of Mourra ✧ An Encyclopedia

↳ The Âras is an antelope with many-branched, black horns of a material similar to ebony, and when the wind passes through them it creates a haunting musical sound. Its hide is dun coloured and striped with glimmering white. It is a peaceful creature, and ranges in size from that of the daintiest antelopes to as large as the hardy draft horses of Diara to, according to unsubstantiated rumours, as large as the largest trees of the mysterious Khadra Wood it calls its home. Indeed, many suspect its size changes according to its will. The Xyl do not hunt it, for it is considered a sacred animal. Children are said to be lured into the forest��s depths by the music of its horns, and when they return—if they return—they’re always a little strange afterwards. In reality, the children that are found are returned home by the Xyl, who sedate them with a harmless elixir so they do not remember their journey, in order to keep the location and other details of Xyl settlements a secret from outsiders. [Inspiration: the kudu, Shadhavar/Âras from the Wonders of Creation, the Forest Spirit of Princess Mononoke (1999), the white stag of Arthurian legend, megafauna, and this tumblr post by @iguanamouth​​]

original images via: Jack van Belzen on Unsplash

lofm taglist (open!): @poetinprose​​​, @jellybeanswriting​​​, @treesandwords​​​, @sculpture-in-a-period-drama​​​

#lofm.encyclopedia #writeblr wednesday #(only early bc ill be away wed....or late since i missed the last few wbw) #wbw #writeblr community #worldbuilding #lofm.wip #kaatiba.edits

[kaatiba]

Six Sentence Sunday

i was tagged by @zmwrites and finally a sunday has come where i have not forgotten to do this! thank you! i would like to tag @tracle0, @treesandwords, @antihell, @wingedcatastrophe and anyone else who'd like to play, no pressure though.

here are my six lines paragraphs from Legends of Mourra, my muslim themed, folklore inspired fantasy feat. a kidnapped prince, a rescue mission, djinn, and lingering legends

“What’s this now?” Nilam asks. “I thought that the old Queen was made Nameless because she was a witch?” When neither Sirin nor Raoul look to answer her, Halah sighs. “She was,” she tells Nilam. “But there was a second reason—she betrayed her marriage vows to the king, and I think this was the reason his Majesty King Mu’adh was so vicious in his pursuit of the eradication of magic. He loved her, you know. I don’t think he ever forgave himself for it.” “How do you know that?” Raoul asks sharply. Halah shrugs. “My grandfather,” she says. “He told me. He said it was important that I know.” “Why would he tell you such things?” Raoul demands. “About the Nameless Queen, about the tunnels—he took vows as a Keeper, vows he was beholden to even when he resigned his post. The secrets of the kingdom were not his to share.” Halah glares at him. “My grandfather, may he rest in peace, never in his life broke any vow, much less his Keeper’s Vows. If he told me, it was because he knew I had to know, and his vows allowed him to do so.”

taglist (message to be +/-): @muddshadow, @lockejhaven, @tracle0, @anonymousfoz, @poetinprose, @jellybeanswriting, @treesandwords, @sculpture-in-a-period-drama, @thelittlestspider

#lofm.wip #wip excerpt #muslim writeblr #writeblr community #writeblr #kaatibawrites #tag meme