Ok, here's the start of the multi-part story I promised. I hope I can stick with it long enough to give it an end. Baby steps. This story is going to be a little self-indulgent in style and content, to keep me interested. Why do I always seem to get into a weird funk when I try and start a complete story?
She realized that she may have jumped in too unprepared, not for the first time. Etoile's barrier was cruel in a way that defied decency, battering her will and worming through her smaller thoughts even as it tried to scorch her body into nothingness. She couldn't recall her name, not without a terrible feeling of disassociation - any attempt to find herself left her wandering lost in memories that no longer had a place for her. Her every emotion had fled, leaving her with nothing but a will-less expectation, unable to comprehend her imminent destruction, unable to care if she did. The unbearable roaring brightness pierced her eyelids, made her eyes water, the shield she'd hastily thrown up against the bone-scraping heat wavering and deflating like limp saran wrap. It was no use - she simply couldn't focus on anything, could not even focus on herself and remember what separated her from the rest of infinity. She was about to be incinerated and wouldn't even be around to witness it.
The edge of her failing shield touched the back of her arm, instantly blackening a small patch of skin. She felt pain, and from the hole where her ego used to be a lightning bolt of fear erupted. Her eyes snapped open, pupils dilating, she felt a ripple run through her body as her muscles contracted and started moving in unison once more. She took a deep breath for the first time in many seconds, and tried to find her train of thought again. Yes, she'd gotten lost just inches from the far side of the barrier, and it was a mere passing application of will to push herself the rest of the way through.
The Empress Elizabeth Ostergaard appeared in the stolen city of Oldport in a flash of light and heat that scorched the pavement where she landed. She shook her head and straightened up, clearing the cobwebs the barrier had psychically imposed on her and taking inventory of herself. She was a big woman, huge in fact, a word which summed up her body, mind, and spirit. A flat seven feet tall, her curly, cloud-white hair had grown long over the centuries. At her brow was a crown or thick headband made of gold, with the sun disc that served as the seal of the Imperial House proudly displayed. She wore a mirror-bright breastplate engraved with baroque scrollwork over a rich green dress, an open robe of royal purple and gold, and a cloak of red velvet.
Hmm, I'd better cut it off there before my penchant for overwrought imagery reaches critical mass. I said I was going to be self-indulgent with this, right? Still, this isn't terribly well written... But I'm enjoying writing it, which is what I need now. Stay tooned for the next installment, with actual plot next time! Probably!
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