draft #1

Instructions

↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ- She clutched her case close to her chest with one arm, the other hand holding a clear umbrella over her head. Rain pattered down softly, running down the sloped cobblestone streets where children played in the rain, their mothers shouting at them to come inside for a moment, then realizing it was pointless and going back inside. The bakery to her left was lit up with a pale, warm glow. A man bustled inside, piping bags scattered around a countertop with a cake placed in the middle. Three tiers, all white with lacy frosting. A wedding cake. Florence shifted uncomfortably, glancing around to try and find some sort of bench she could sit at so she could try and take another look at the complicated map that had been sent with her invitation letter. Carefully, she walked over to stand under a large tree that looked like a willow, except this one was adorned with pale purple flowers and fairy lights wrapped around its trunk. The decor glowed dimly alongside the streetlights, which flickered in and out. Florence took her arm off of the cello case, closing her umbrella and reaching into her bag to take out the thin map. Whenever she had read maps when she was younger or created them for school, she had always wished to make them more detailed, though now that she had a detailed map she decided that it was for the better that maps were always less … extravagant. /I can’t even tell where the games are being held, let alone the palace … / The entire map had seemed to be drawn by hand in ink that wasn’t fully dry by the time the letter had been delivered to her house, dark lines marking the places the wet ink had touched. /Perhaps I could ask someone for directions …?/ “Oh, why! Hello there!” Florence glanced up, then immediately closed her eyes and stuffed the map back into her bag. Too cheerful. “I assume that you are here for the games as well, yes! My, you’re quite the sight. I-in a good way, of course! Very, very beautiful.” She slowly opened her eyes to meet the gaze of deep blue eyes. The girl was holding a few blank canvases close to her chest, and a man with wavy platinum-blonde hair and glasses carried an easel behind her. “We’ve been looking for a third person!” The girl grinned, reaching up to tuck a stray piece of black hair behind her ears that hadn’t made it into her braid. “I found him a little bit ago, but he didn’t know where to go, either!” “Oh. That’s a pity, since I don’t know where the palace is as well.” Florence murmured, tilting her head down to look at the wet stone instead of the people before her. “Ah, well.” The man said. “We should leave her alone, then-” “What?!” the girl shrieked, and the thump sound of something heavy hitting the ground followed. Florence sighed, walking over to help pick up the canvases. “Here.” “Oh, why thank you!” She said in response, shooting a look at the man. /Please let them leave. I want nothing to do with them./ “If I may ask, what’s your name?” She tilted her head up to look at the man. His eyes were a light shade of blue, almost a grayish white. “... Florence." ೃ⁀➷ ✦ this is the first draft of a story i'm writing called 'PALACE ALBION'! it's scenery is based on England with a more magical aspect to it. ✦ the MC, a cellist named Florence, is nineteen years old at the start of the story, and when it ends she is freshly twenty. ✦ the idea of this story is not to overturn a corrupt government, revenge a lost family member or uncover any sort of secret. it is simply a story of a fair tragedy. ✦ people born with magic in this story are able to truly convey emotions into art - through an instrument, writing, song and art. they are all sent to the capitol (Palace Albion) when they turn nineteen (at a designated time in the year, of course, so you may be almost twenty or freshly nineteen). ✦ a competition is held throughout the candidates, rankings and points being given out based on their performances. the person who ranks the highest gets to stay in the capitol and work in the High King and Queen's court for arts/entertainment. ✦ the story is certainly bittersweet/sad, of course, but I don't want people to see the government in this story as 'bad' or as if magic is a 'terrible gift' or 'curse'. I simply wanted to read a story about a fair competition. (this was not the full draft) ( /____/ = italics ... some or all formatting did not transfer over) ( this is not the main story that I am currently writing.) ↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-