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"The Sins" Introduction

((AN: Hi everyone! This is Hanna, the 2nd admin of this blog's 2 admins and the creator of the Seven Deadly Sins gang. Their story is told through 8 pieces, an introduction and one character-focused piece per person. The intro is below, but a note: I write these stories as screenplays, since they were originally conceived of as comic books, which have a similar format. That is to say, what's posted below may look really unfamiliar, but it should be readable. If you're curious about how this style works, check out this formatting guide from the Office of Letters and Light, the people who run NaNoWriMo. Thanks, and hope you enjoy!))

#7ds

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Cast Down - The Birds Part One

The First Installment of "The Birds" story Down Here

Enjoy!

“I don’t understand why we’re still talking about this” her father’s voice forced its way under the door of her bedroom.

“Because she’s our daughter, For god’s sake have you forgotten that?” Her mother’s sobs followed quickly after for the seventeenth time.

Seventeen, had it really been that many days. The test still lay on her dresser, she picked it up, gently examining the undeniable “positive” still glaring on the white screen. Two others lay beside it shouting in unison “Positive”, their chorus echoing her deepest fear. She set it down again, almost reverently and went into her bathroom. She closed the door and the voices became less.

The face in the mirror was strangely calm. That face didn’t tremble as she let her robe fall to the ground, it didn’t grimace at the weight slowly growing on her hips, didn’t grieve the loss of her virginal curves. That face watched the hair fall around her shoulders, covering the ghostly remains of bruises, refused to wince as her arms reached for the curtain, steeled itself as the voices reached a crescendo, and allowed itself, finally to rest as the water poured over her, covering her in a beautiful sound and banishing the voices for a time.

She turned the water off, savoring the last few drops before stepping out into the steamy warmth of the bathroom. She could not see the brave face in the mirror anymore and she was alright without it. The voices had stopped, or at least they were speaking quietly now. She dried herself, and dressed.

In her room the voices made themselves evident again, but now with another companion. A woman’s voice, cold and high and somehow seeming to come from farther away than the living room. The door seemed to open itself as she walked through it. She entered the room unnoticed.

“You see Martha, it is the only good thing you can do for her, for everyone, now.” The cold voice belonged to a sharp looking woman, sitting tall beside her mother, her claw-like hand on Martha’s knee feigning comfort. Her dark eyes seemed to see through the tension in the room, she saw no moral qualms in the advice she gave.

Her father stood motionless by the window, his back turned to all of them.

“If you allow her to stay here she will only face shame and loss. The Undercity is really a much more civilized place than most believe. She will find work and an honest living there and people who understand her. Here she will be an outcast, and you and your husband with her, and we must think of the youth as well, if one is allowed to carry on a ‘normal’ life after making this decision why shouldn’t they all? Can you imagine the results?”

“But she’s only fifteen,” her mother sobbed, “She made a mistake, we could arrange a secret wedding, I’m certain we could have the dates written to hide it properly.”

“It is far too late for that. Too many people would see through it. Her condition is already beginning to show - “

“My baby,” a voice much stronger than her own said as she stepped fully into the room, “It’s my baby, not a condition.”

“Natalie,” her mother stood and started toward her, “You should be in bed dear, please come on and - “

“Mother, I deserve to be a part of this decision. It is about me.” Her mother relented, “Who is this woman?”

“I am Seraphina,” the woman said, now standing and joining them, looking down her long nose at Natalie, “It is my job to help people make these difficult decisions.”

“You want to cast me down.”

“Want is a strong word, I want what is best for The City.”

“Which means being rid of me.”

"Natalie,” Martha was crying again, her father hadn’t moved, “Please go back to your room.”

She looked directly into Seraphina’s cold, dark eyes, “Why should I go down?”

Seraphina lowered herself so her face was right against Natalie’s and said with a subtle venom, “This City is great. It is a place of peace rising from a world of war. It is a place of comfort and calm amid a world of raging clamour. It is a place or purity and goodness, a place of safety and assurance, and you are none of those things. The only way for this great city to remain great is to remove anything which could hinder it, and you are one of those things.”

Natalie looked for one moment at her weeping mother, she couldn’t look at her father. She returned her gaze to Seraphina’s. She steeled herself and hoped her face looked like the one in her mirror as she held her gaze and said, “Then I should go.”

She stood in the silence of those words for what seemed like an hour, and then she left, back to her room to gather her things.

Seraphina was gone as suddenly as she had appeared.

She packed in a fog, only a few clothes and trinkets, the necklace her mother gave her for her birthday last year, a book she never quite understood, some money, and a pouch of gems she’d had she was a child, the first thing she ever bought. Her mother clung to her as she packed and she was unsure whether she was glad for or angered by the display. She left the house with her small bag, her father nowhere to be seen, her mother still at her side as she made her way through the streets. The city loomed at her from every direction, its pristine buildings a symbol of the perfection Seraphina strived to enforce. Every angle, every brush stroke, every window and door frame was a masterpiece and everyone mocked her. They bore down upon her in their silent voices, saying nothing but meaning everything, proving her unworth in every moment of her existence.

A few people looked out their windows but turned away from her, probably fearing contamination. No one needed to ask where she was going.

She reached a large square, a huge metal door stood at an angle from the pavement, ominous and perfect in all of its design. Intricate flourishes covered it’s edges and its handle gleamed in a mockery of anyone forced to open it.

The Hatch made itself perfectly clear, it was not meant to be opened lightly nor often. Natalie stood before it, trembling deeply. Her mother had stopped six feet back, unable to go any closer to the accursed door which now towered above her.

She looked back at the city once more, its perfection standing silently around her, beckoning her to leave. She glared through the whitewashed walls, knowing far too well the corruption which raged inside them, unrestrained, unknown - or at least unnoticed. Anger welled up in her at the injustice of it all, that she should be the one punished, the one cast down for this.

And she turned again to the door. She imagined the wildness it held at bay, the disorder and the chaos. Years of storytelling, myths and rumors, came to mind and danced before her eyes. Thousands of people living lives, honestly and dishonestly, below the perfect city. Thousands of people who knew the truth as she did and decided to live in it, that the city was far from perfect. Perhaps there was some freedom in living with that knowledge and not pretending.

Perhaps not.

She laid her hand on the door. The cold steel met her touch and yielded to her as she turned the handle and lifted. The darkness was overpowering as she stepped through, a staircase spiraling downward, a cold air racing past her to escape as the door slowly shut. She felt her way to a wall and followed it down, she counted hundreds of steps before she found flat ground beneath her.

A light glowed before her. It moved slowly toward her. A man, or a boy perhaps, he seemed both old and young. He walked to her and held his lamp near her, “Another downcast maiden I see, or have you come on your own?” The fearful tears gave him the answer, “Ah, I see, and nothing warm with you at all. They have become even more heartless upstairs,” He wrapped a shawl about her and put a hand on her shoulder, guiding her down a passageway, “Fret not, I will be sure that you find a place Down Here, you will not be an orphan, not for long.”

#Down Here #The Birds #Starling #Orphan #Part One #Cast Down

Hello!

We're still under construction a bit but I figured I'd ppost an introduction anyways.

Down Here is a world where characters live their lives and you tell us all about them. As I built the world of Down Here and exploring the possibilities of a story arch I quickly realized that the world had already grown out of my control. I could not satisfy myself with one set of characters and one measly story arc. I started finding all sorts of concepts and possibilities and could not find “the story” I enlisted the help of my writing friends and they came up with even more characters and concepts. Still I hadn’t found “The Story” for this world I had made. Soon after I realized that the stories in this world were about survival, the everyday struggles which are so intrinsic to being human.

And then as I was scrolling through my dash one day, it hit me.

Tumblr.

There are literally thousands of people on tumblr who enjoy finding things to like and then making stuff about them. If my friends liked the world of Down Here enough to make characters for it and write about them why wouldn’t other people? Perhaps I could bring the people of the internet together to make something cool and see what the scope of this world I built really is.

But what’s “The Story?” my inner critic rages on, what is cannon and what is not? How will you ensure the integrity of the world construct so people can keep writing for years and everything will form a cohesive whole and the world will stand on it’s own and exist is the psyche of all the writers and readers of the pieces?

Well that last one was a good point inner-critic. In order for the world to maintain integrity and guarantee that many people can write and enjoy it there needs to be a little bit of structure. So there are some pages on this blog. This post will be on one called “What is this?” there are more like:

The World of Down Here - An explanation of how this universe functions

Cannonization - make your work official!

Questions, Queries, Concerns - like FAQs, compliments also accepted (our ask box)

Cannon Writings - submissions approved by Admins as cannon work

Submissions - submit your work to us!

Please Enjoy the work! As work is incorporated to the cannon it will be posted on the blog and links to the writers, and all the pieces will be posted on the Cannon Writings page.

This is also kind of an experiment, can a fandom exist around a concept and build what it loves? I think it can, and I'd like to see how far this idea goes.

#Down Here #Intors #small beginnings #hi!

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