Setting: On Board the HMV Lark

Hope the weather is turning nicer for you wherever you are...

   If there's one thing I've learned from all the exercises up to this point, it's that every description, every line of dialogue, and every event has to propel the story or build character. Well, I learned it in my head, but in practice, I still need to work on that.
   Here's what I wrote for this week. Read. Enjoy. Critique. If you want to try this exercise yourself, see the end of this post!
   

1

It was the first warm evening of March. The HMV Lark was anchored on Lake Dacen, and a breeze flickered across the landscape. It disturbed the water striders, riffled cloaks, and lifted the corner of the limp green, yellow, and black flag. Strong odors of live forest and hewn deck mingled with herb sachets, cured leather, cheese, and something burnt. The castle-side bank was close, and although the water was cold a decent swimmer could have reached it in minutes. On the far side a dark row of trees encircled the lake like a curtain. The dignitaries on board the Lark laughed and chattered. Like sunflowers toward the sun, their gazes followed the king who strolled from bow to stern with his head high and his hands behind his back. Every few strides he stopped and spoke. Then he moved on. Circles of guests broke and reformed, and individuals moved between groups in an untimed dance whose secret steps some knew better than others. The long-fingered statesman from Boronovia was one of them, and he flicked between his fellow guests and spent the most time in the king's radiance. Only one eye kept watch on the shrouded shores. When a cloud hid the moon, the lights on the ship blotted out the dark.

Free image courtesy of freedigitalphotos.net

2

            The feast on board King Ander's ship was more for the senses than the stomach. His majesty's vessel still smelled of pinesap, even with its fresh coat of black, gold, and green paint. The bow was lined with tables, and the smells of smoke, juicy mutton, and sweet berries wafted through the air. Hundreds of candles of all sizes swung from the lines and little, vibrant flags fluttered beneath the Fauldish banner high above our heads. The tri-colored cloth could have covered the royal dinner table.         The ship—and a dozen rowboats that had carried us from the shore—was anchored in a sea of oversized stars, reflected from the night sky. A quarter mile away on land, torches lighted the way to the castle—their orange flames were only bright specks halfway up the steep path. Tonight of all nights, the harp was outshone and the lesser constellations were lost altogether. When my eyes were dazzled, I closed them and listened. Heavy boots thudded on the deck, an officer's medal's clunked like bronze wind-chimes, and to my left the scribes' quills scratched across vellum. The royal ensemble played their short, round flutes and long horns without rest. But the real music was the voices. The Lowlanders' lilting middle-country accents, the Mulos squawking speech, Queen Jennifer's laughter crossed over and under each other, with the servants providing silence in between them. It was like living in a ballad.



If you want to try this exercise, here are the "rules:"

   *write two different paragraphs (totaling no more than 1 page) describing the same setting

   *paragraph 1 is straight description; paragraph 2 is from a character's point of view

   *both should get two different moods across.