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paguelyvagan · 1 year

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12 days of writer's self love.

desafortunadamente I'm largely (chewing on a metal bar) about posting snippets these days buuuut I'll jabber. and just keep updating this post honestly. a bitch is nitpicky.

content warnings: discussion of sexual assault. said discussion entries are marked in red.

12/1 HUG

His palm slid along the grain of her bicep, revoking what felt too near an embrace — by comparison, the cradle of Ileanor’s hands seemed almost sisterly. Still, it was too late.

The curve of her waist had branded his nerves like hot iron.

sooo much of the intimacy I've worked with in valley is about repression and resisting and this roiling boil of touch starvation, desire and emotion that is constantly threatening to spill over and sizzle on the stove. in related news, I hate electric burners.

touch is big theme and it's everywhere in my work, and embraces so often come at emotional highs in the heat of arguments or tears or confessions or we shouldn't, but's. I'm enamored of how I do touch. it's one of my better strengths. even the chaste is unchaste. and all my best hugs come after these poor saps trying and failing* to keep their hands to themselves.

*(not to be confused with nonconsensual touching; personally I find 'forbidden hugs' much more compelling than unwanted ones. I am looking directly at you, high school english teacher.)

12/2 CROWN

Moonlight clung to the horizon like the last drop of pinewater, dashing a fading tryst between the clouds and Bittering crown.

aside the fact that 'crown' is one of my preferred cranial terms, it's lesser used for things on heads than one might expect for a story with so many aristocratic shenanigans. you'll find it most in scenic descriptions, primarily in discussing trees and forests. they're popular to say the least.

working on valley has certainly taught me atmosphere. trial by fire. but when you have a magic forest you'd best get creative with your arboreal motifs.

12/3 REPULSED

“I will ask you once more,” he spoke when she’d drunk full of his savagery, and become sick of him. “Just. Once. Lovely Ileanor, end all this suffering. Come home with me. Be my bride.”

rejection is our poison of choice. justified or not, Ileanor's repulsion has a body count: and babes, it stacks. unfortunate? very. but if violent powerful old men ever deigned to take 'no' for an answer, what would I have a to write about??

12/4 BLOOD

“This imposition of mortal nannying has left you grievously unwell,” he uttered. “Whatever’s led you to believe you might strike me does not care for your welfare.”

Rage rose in Ileanor’s throat; it had always been there, sleeping inside the fear. She dragged the heel of her palm through the blood pooling between her lips. “Don’t t-touch me,” she choked — braver than she felt, cheeks smeared red with sticky, coppery defiance, “and I won’t have to.”

vampires. what else is there to say??

okay a lot, I guess. Valley is very bloody. I like blood. it's colorful, you know? really makes a scene pop. I love a good sexy vampire and I certainly hope to write a few someday, but Talgot Valei is not one of them.

what I think I appreciate most about the motif of blood in Valley is its role in my various shots at inversion. in the unsexy vampire narratives, blood-sucking has heavy connotations of SA and related assault allegories. the SA is the undercurrent, there to accentuate the blood in the narrative forefront.

and I am NOT knocking historical vampiric use to discuss themes of SA. but what I think is significant with my use is that the blood-sucking (that is too gentle a word, honestly. do we have a better one yet?) accentuates the rape, instead. yes. rape. Valley is a story about rape.

12/5 FLOWER

“Red suits you,” spoke Petyr at last — how long had they walked in silence? His words were stiff and strange. “Rather like a rose. You’ve got the thorns, eh?”

Ileanor scowled. “Do you compare all your dalliances to trees and bushes, or am I special?”

“I’m to marry you, aren’t I?”

“Should nothing happen to compromise the matter, I suppose so.”

“Frigid as ever, I see.” This was better — petty insults and animosity. Petyr scoffed and looked to the sky. “Well, if a bitter bride is what you want to be!”

Petyr has gone from a two-bit afterthought of minor antagonist to an amazingly developed antivillain, and that label is reductionist at best. I'm so proud of who he is and what his arc is going to be, as an ally, enemy, loved and lover, foil, and — ultimately — a messy, mortal man.

also I owe him a thousand apologies. I'm very sorry Petyr.

12/6 CLOTHING

“You’ll need another one at the throat. Hel-ka Berella wore common style.” He held them to her neck, then touched her arm. “Lay it along your chest for me.”

“All this secondhand heritage.” Ileanor sighed, smoothing the tails flat between her breasts. “How do you know what my mother wore?”

“I don’t, really.” Illyka tied the tails at her collarbone. “It’s just that mine wore the same.”

I'll happily admit that when I first started designing Ileanor's weddingwear, I had no idea how significant it would eventually become to Valley, its worldbuilding, its plot, its themes, its lore and its comps. I've spent years on chapa, and have had such amazing help and insight from friends, including the amazingly talented Izie, who lurks offline. (💙)

I could not possibly encapsulate the role chapa plays in Valley in a few sentences, so I'll just conceptualize it. Chapa is (typically) a three-piece wedding costume comprised of a coord/dress, coat, and elaborately (and customizably) knotted overskirt and harness.

Ileanor inherits her wedding clothes from her long-late mother. Or maybe they're older than that. Who knows!

12/7 GOD

But the stooped, scarf-swaddled duskfall goddess opposite him, the Veiled Crone — now this was a curiosity! She’d swallowed the sun, so the stories went, centuries ago, and would have swallowed the valley next had Talgot not bound her beneath the earth and taken what remained as his prize.

There was power in worship, Ilyka had been told many times, and so it was severely criminal to even speak her name — lest her insatiable appetite rise again.

12/8 MUSIC

Ilyka knew the ballad well. What struck him was how it tumbled anew from her tongue, heavy as a well-spiced tea and clumsy with drink. He felt a man without rest, seeking the seams where the girl he’d known fit into this heartworn creature sat against her forebears, disheveled and glossy with the night preceding.

12/9 DANCE

“Perhaps.” Talgot offered a heavy-ringed hand and a deep bow. “A dance, helta?”

Ileanor wanted to vomit, but she paused to look around. The worst proved true: Talgot’s presence and all his pompous entreat had drawn a great deal of attention. She clenched her jaw and fantasized of murder, then took his hand.

“Just one.”

Talgot pulled her flush against his imposing frame. “I ask nothing more.”

12/10 MAGIC

12/11 KISS

12/12 ENDING

#12 days of writers self love #notas.#writing events.

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