This 8 sentence blog hop is hosted by The Weekend Writing Warriors. (Click the link for the list of participants, or rules if you want to join!)
This is a snippet from my yet-to-be-completed NaNoWriMo story, Black Ink Plague, a fantasy about inkbloods, people who were left at the roots of a magic tree as babies, and can use charcoal from those trees to write and cast spells.
The main character, an inkblood called Liar, cast a spell to kill the gang leader called Cin, and accepted payment from the gang’s second in command.
I skipped over some bill paying and travel to a nicer part of town.
Stopping in front of a house with ruthlessly maintained greenery and monotone white flowers, Liar brushed at her clothes. Instead of the flounces of popular fashion, she wore a simple, straight split skirt over loose pants in the same steel blue fabric, which meant she didn’t quite fit in here, but it no longer mattered. A knock on the door was rewarded with it whisking open moments later, revealing a middle-aged butler with a blank, polite expression that somehow held the disdain of a sneer.
“Are they home to visitors today, Anson?” Liar asked.
Silently, he stepped back, letting her into the house, and led the way to the smaller of the two sitting rooms. Liar settled onto her favorite chair, one that was overstuffed instead of spindly and hard, and pulled a book from the shelf to pass the time. No telling how long, exactly, she’d have to wait.
* * *
Black Ink Plague is set in a world similar to ours, with the addition of the Rakau tree, which has magical properties–charcoal or ink from the tree can be used to cast spells. However, only inkbloods, babies who were left overnight at a Rakau tree’s roots on their first full moon, can harvest and use the tree. The price they pay for their magic is that the ink infects them, staining their skin and eventually forming words from the spells they cast on their skin. These words change their lives in unexpected ways.