Rutilated (#atozchallenge)

Welcome to today's post on the A-to-Z Blogging Challenge. My challenge, as I have chosen to accept it, is thus: I have asked on my Facebook and Twitter accounts for people to contribute random words beginning with today's letter. From Random.org, I have selected one of these words, and will below challenge myself to connect said word to writing.

For the letter L, I received 39 suggestions. Random.org selected number 35: rutilated.


Rutilated

Okay, I'll admit it. I had to look this up. My friends have taken it upon themselves (I think) to stump me with some of their words. (I really should have done this before taking the GRE several years ago.)

What got me was when this word wasn't in my dictionary.

So, despite my complaining about it a couple of weeks ago, I went to (*gasp*) Wikipedia.

Image courtesy of Wiki Commons.

"Rutile is a mineral composed primarily of titanium dioxide, TiO₂... Rutile derives its name from the Latin rutilus, red, in reference to the deep red color observed in some specimens when viewed by transmitted light."

In the spirit of crystals, and red ones at that, I've decided today to tell you a little bit more about the magic in my novel Fighting Fate. If you read my entry for the Nature of Magic blogfest, or my entry for the Query Letter blogfest, you might have noticed that I need to spell out some details. So, here goes.

The source of magic in the story comes from two stones—one red, one blue—each given to one of the sons of the first king to find the true nature of personal magic. Each ancestor of the two brothers, Elmore and Aldred, was ensured some piece of that magic as long as the stones exist. This is "myth" to some, and the stones are kept hidden, under the protection of the ultimate head of each branch of the family, usually the king or queen. The stone chooses (sort of) the head of the family because it will increase that person's magic if it is touch his or her skin.

However, since it's a myth, many people in the story either don't know about it or don't believe it. They take their magic for granted. Because of the stones, only descendants of the two brothers have access to this magic. There's another kind of magic, when magicless people try to control the magic within the earth for their own purposes, but it's as violent as an unbroken horse, and leads to mystical, incurable injury in almost all cases.

So, when Prince Marcus discovers a commoner who has magic, he becomes suspicious. He feels compelled to discover her secret, be it either her tricks for taming the magic of the earth, or which branch of the family she comes from. When she insists it's neither, he only decides to pursue the issue harder.

Thanks for reading, folks.

What issues have you needed to sort out recently? How do you outline your thoughts? Do you freewrite on the computer or a journal? Do you talk out the issues with a friend or family member?

Today I'm taking suggestions for the letter X. Have any? Leave them below. Thanks!

Nature of Magic Blogfest

Hi everyone. Today I'm participating in the Nature of Magic Blogfest, hosted by Tessa and Laura.

THE TASK:
Write or share something you've already written that, to you, shows the nature of magic. It can be an excerpt from your WIP, something you've written especially, poetry, whatever strikes your fancy. It just needs to show the nature of magic as it exists for you or for those you write about.

Considering the task, and my own rewrites of my WIP—which you haven't heard about much as of late with all the blogfesting going on—I had hoped to have a certain conversation between two of my characters ready, in which they discuss being raised and trained in their magic. However, it's not ready.

*head-smack*

Instead, I give you this. It's from my first chapter. This is the first magic the reader sees.


From: Fighting Fate (New Adult, Urban Fantasy/Romance)
Chapter 1, second scene

After an hour, Anabelle started feeling restless. They’d seen a model of the throne room—not even the real one—and the living quarters of the former Duke and Duchess—the parents of the Queen’s husband, the dead King Nathaniel. Lily had been right. The tour showed nothing interesting.
 

So when they passed a bathroom, Anabelle tapped Lily’s hand and slipped inside without notifying the pink umbrella. She waited until her watch ticked past two numbers before she prepared herself. Watching the mirror to be sure, she invoked her magic and cast a veil over her body. She examined the veil as her reflection disappeared. She spun in several directions, checking that the veil left no toe or belt buckle visible. Once satisfied, she slipped out the bathroom door and turned away from the direction of the group.
 

She walked on the sides of her feet, trying to keep her dress shoes quiet. When a guard stomped toward her, she flattened herself against the wall and held her breath until he turned a corner. She kept her eyes on that corner. How had she become such a coward? If she planned to do this, she needed to do it properly. She pushed herself away from the wall and continued down the hall.
 

She slid past another guard at the entrance to the restricted areas. The walls around her glowed a brighter yellow than the halls she’d seen on the tour, and the cherry wood tables and chairs—which lined the walls in the public areas—were absent here. She worried she might got lost back here with no identifiable landmarks of furniture. She tried keeping a map in her head of the turns she took, but direction had never been her skill, no matter how much magic she injected into a mental map.
 

Instead of worrying about it, she focused on the magic she knew she could control. Seeking. She’d used it in middle school to avoid the mean girls. She’d used it in high school to avoid the teachers she didn’t like. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d used it to find the person she sought instead of avoid. She concentrated on her limited knowledge of the Prince—his physique, his personality, his likes and dislikes—and hoped she could get a trace on him.
 

She continued wandering the halls until she sensed him behind a door. She backtracked around a corner and spotted a surveillance camera. This kind of magic she had never tried before, and she hoped she could manage. She reached up until she could reach the wires at the back of the camera. She imagined the the last thirty seconds playing on a loop, a continual visual of nothing.
 

Her throat constricted and she reached to tug at her collar. Despite the shaking in her chest, she listened for the door to open and prepared to drop the veil.


Thanks for coming by and reading. If you have any comments for me, I'm more than welcome to them. If you'd like to share something beyond the comment box, you can email me at rlconnolly01 [at] gmail.com.

PS--Starting next week, I will be posting on Tuesday and Thursday, and Friday begins the A to Z Blogging Challenge.