Hayleigh (Working Title) | Heavily Reworked | Prologue
Posted May 7th, 2018 by HannahChen2009
echo (*Jill*) |
a/n: hello all. Hayleigh is a completed novella that I worked on for school roughly three years ago, and I doubt many of you will remember the events or generally, anything at all about this story. however, after some inspiration, i started to heavily rework some of the major plot points of this story, as well as filling some of the many, many plot holes.
hayleigh will still be the 'main' character of this story, though in reality is more of a plot device than anything. she is aware of this to some extent, and, knowing this, breaks the fourh wall from time to time. there will be also two additional prominent plot lines- isobella, a member of the council, and will let you know more of perseus's backstory, and quinn and toshiyuki, my ABSOLUTE FAVORITE PEOPLE TO WRITE ABOUT EXCUSE ME, who bring some insight to the villainous side of the story. (not that they're antagonists... well, you'll see.)
anyway this version has a much better planned out plot in general and i hope will gain some reads since i'm quite excited for this!
“What is it?”
“It hasn’t blossomed since Perseus left.” A pale, blonde girl knelt in a garden, anxiously running a slender finger across a white flower. I could not name it for you, for it does not exist, or will it ever exist, in our world. It was a flower with white, thin petals that you could almost see through, veined with green. The nearer it was to the center, the brighter the color of the petal was- it went from white, to silver, to a glimmering gold.
The only odd thing one would notice, besides its’ captivating beauty, was its’ complete lack of either a stamen or pistil. What this meant, plainly, and what anyone learned in biology would tell you, was that this flower had neither a gender nor any visible means to reproduce. Of course, it was not strange at all to Isobella, who tended to it religiously, but we have more pressing matters on hand to discuss than the rituals of Isobella and the care she puts into taking care of the botany.
“That means Perseus isn’t dead?” A younger boy, squatted next to the first girl, raised his caramel eyes to meet Isobella’s questioningly.
“Yes.” She answered, without hesitation. “Never before has it failed to blossom once the previous king or queen has passed on.” The boy nodded, watching Isobella carefully as she stroked her hand across the petal. You could see her finger through it- that was how frail and fragile the flower seemed.
“But there’s something more worrying. Look closely.” Isobella’s brow furrowed, bringing a world-worn weariness to her young face. Though she looked to be no more than twenty, her years were much, much more than that… and yet, she was still the youngest of the council.
The boy mirrored her frown, studying the flower intently, pressing his face up close.
“There’s… a bit of brown at the edges of the petals? Is that what’s worrying you?” He guessed, his breath making the petals wave. “It’s not that bad. I mean, I couldn’t even see it until I got-” He held up two fingers to mimic the distance he had been to the flower “this close. And I’m not sure what’s worrying you.”
“Renatus, do you know what this sign usually means?” Isobella asked softly.
“Of course I do. It usually means a flower is malnourished or is, for whatever reason, wilting. It could be bugs, or lack of water, or too much water, or not enough nutrients in the soil…” The boy rattled on about malnourishment, recounting various causes and remedies he had read about. “…But it’s usually not bad until it’s noticeable standing up.” He concluded.
“Have you been doing your reading on the Monarch Flower, then?”
“Yes, I’ve also been doing that, Master Isobella. The Monarch Flower goes into blossom if a previous King or Queen passes away, and cannot be destroyed, by magic or otherwise. It needs careful care, as the better care it receives results in stronger powers of the next king or queen, and…” The boy turned stricken.
“And?” Isobella prompted, standing up and brushing some of the dust off her flowing dress.
“And… it never wilts.”
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