Into the World of ‘H’

As you know, I’m currently ploughing through CampNaNoWriMo – all your wordcounts belong to me! – and, unlike last year…or, actually, unlike any of the other times I’ve tried writing challenges…I am writing straight onto my laptop instead of having to write on a physical notebook first (FYI, I still haven’t completely typed up DMWT from last year’s CampWriMo/trip to Uganda). In a way, this both heightens and releases the pressure.

I’ve currently written 35K, and am on chapter 16, but, due to the mishap with my laptop, I had to write on my phone for four days, so, whilst it felt like I skipped through the 20s merrily, I believe I am behind on the 2K-a-day trial. To add to that, I’m holidaying with a friend in Suffolk – we arrived yesterday – so I have no set writing times as I would when at home.

As with a lot of my writing at the moment, I’m going for a facetious tone, but trying to keep the heroine from being outspoken, as that would not suit her. I’m going to share a couple of extracts, to give you a glimpse into this fantasy/alternate history world, featuring an infected leech bite, a storm, and a dormant volcano. And that’s just in chapters 12 to 16.

NOW I get why Atlantis has always been my favourite Disney film

Who among you negotiates?

The language of the novel is vital. Well, not only is it something I love, but it shows their Steampunk world in more detail – how each character ought to interact, particularly that of the MC, since her actual words are often filled with more eloquence than her internal monologue.

Deal or no, if they arranged no posited lodgings with the lady, the sky would be pocked by nightfall and all hopes of survival in the alien wasteland would be dashed.

At least Cathy was not alone in her sympathies. In their quick exchanges, Amelia and Jonathon were demanding of the captain some little element. Cathy heard very little of the hisses – but the words lodgings, night, and help, even if they were imagined, warmed her chest.

“Lady,” the captain called, “I simply mean to ask if you would give us lodging for the night until we can fetch supplies for the journey to Rome.”

Silence. Even through the distance, no one would mistake that close-lipped smile marring the woman’s features.

Eventually – a mere minute dragged in desperation – Petite Victoria drew her fingers away and unstuck her dark lips. “Pray, who among you negotiates the treaties of sleep with strangers?”

Before he might speak and throw the entire operation, Cathy jolted a hand onto the captain’s arm, despite lunging across Amelia and Jonathon.

“Please,” she hissed to him. “Let me talk with her. I know their native language, after all.”

Ignoring the petulant half-snort that came from Jonathon, Captain Moorcombe nodded, and said to Petite Victoria, “You may have your time with the lady Cathleen.”

~

A device for seeing and finding…

Of course, every stereotype of Steampunk is metal cogs and airships, and, whilst that’s not something I completely abhor, I’d rather step away from the typical before it becomes another overdone trope. However, one can’t help admit that those items affect the aesthetic, and, done well, are one of the integral legs of identifying a Steam piece.

The woman gave Cathy a dry smile. This close, the eyepiece – or, rather, the lady’s eye – was inescapable. The metal was too light, too polished to be copper or brass, but, at the same time, it looked as if it had been crafted from the alloys of old, and that was an accomplishment, considering how the metal writhed and squirmed around the organic flesh.

Cathy blinked. Staring at the rooted disk made her own pupils ache by association. Still, that didn’t stop her stretching her fingertips to it. Quite what she was doing, she had no idea.

Petite Victoria halted, but she threw up her head, and connected eyepiece with Cathy’s fingers without a word. She needed none – her chin declared her pride at bearing the mechanical incision.

To the touch, the disk stank of alloy. Under that, the layer of charcoaled cogs rotated anticlockwise – clicking in the wind’s breath, they operated a chain of smaller and smaller winding cogs, down to the pupil itself, which had belonged to her in a previous life.

Now, however, the bottle-green of her right eye had been carved away and polished into a gemstone lock.

Victoria’s eye was no eye. It was a device for seeing and finding, for spotting and destroying.

~

Even that simple move had escaped her.

I can’t call it adventure for nothing. Yes, it involves a lot of travel and a handful of contagonists, acting for their own, not-mentioned purposes, who happen to cross the path of my MC. The stakes are high for the MC, who just wants to find where her fiancé has disappeared to, but the world into which she finds herself plunged is one of revolt and secrets.

Cathy struggled against the netting fabric, which cut unflattering lines into her face. She turned, but that did nothing to alleviate the awkward position into which she’d managed to fall. Although her petticoats were doing their best to cover her modesty, her ankles stuck into the top of the netting like two pillars in the skyline.

She fought to drag her feet down from their height, but even that simple move had escaped her. Whilst she moved her wrists and fingers like any other day, they’d barely dragged down her legs, one by one. She splayed them again – but she’d manicured her nails into square, polite shapes, and they’d lost any of their ability to cut. Not that Miriam would’ve been pleased by the idea of her former student, a young lady, slashing with her own humane fingernails.

Forget her. Miriam wasn’t here; she wasn’t the one finding a way from the tight spaces of the net. Cathy took a deep breath, surprised when her chest howled in pain from the corset jamming her ribs and breasts in all the wrong ways.

Smart footsteps – no urchin or shop owner afforded to pay for the types of metallic steel that lined this man’s boots enough to click as he rounded the corner cobbles – neared, and Cathy found herself holding her breath. She didn’t even know from where the anxiety rose. The thought of The Passing, perhaps? From this direction, the sun shone obvious and semi-circular over the Thames eastbank. It hadn’t even set fully, and she was already pulling worries from the frantic edges of her mind.

That’s it for now! I hope you enjoyed peeking into the scenery of my NaNo adventure.

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5 thoughts on “Into the World of ‘H’

    • Yes, indeed! You’ll find that there are so many subgenres and different styles of Steampunk out there. I tend towards the more traditional, but at the moment I’m actually reading a Steampunk-aesthetic story with sorcery in Victorian London. 🙂

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