tiny exhausted battery

That said, these tags were what I needed to hear:

we're all gonna make it

Hi. Long time, no read (for some of yous). I’m back to drafting this novel. I have stopped posting snippets after Scene 5 the last time I attempted, because those parts didn’t feel ready to share. Or even ready-ish. Now, I’m getting through Scene #10. So. Here’s hoping I’ll be able to go a lot further along with those snippets.

Scene #6 contains a lot of worldbuilding and little action, or even character moments, but worldbuilding is necessary too, right?

WIP: Black Wings Genre: science-fiction Tag line: Humans’ efforts to terraform a planet are thwarted when some decide to save intelligent indigenous life.  POV characters: Kenaed, Zoe Irene, Mattan Nuada, Siesell Keeva Snippet from: Scene #6, Zoe Irene's PoV

#1 [Zoe Irene] | #2  [Zoe Irene] | #3 [Kenaed] | #4 [Mattan Nuada] | #5 [Siesell Keeva] | #6 [Zoe Irene] | #7 [Mattan Nuada] | #8 [Zoe Irene] | #9 [Siesell Keeva] | #10 [Kenaed] | #11 | #12 | #13 | #14 | #15 | ...

#.

Angerona, the town, was built from parts of the ship that had brought the settlers here. Houses, schools, service, research and production buildings, were constructed from modular elements at first taken straight from partitions of the corridors and cabins, then manufactured on the surface in the same manner. Old Angerona, stripped to her bare bones and essential systems, now orbited the Sun in Lagrange Point between the planet and the star of the system. It still served the people—most of the energy used by the settlement, was produced out there, in the accelerator, and stored as antimatter in Penning-Werner Traps. At least half of the food was also printed up there. Members of the Space Crew, in six-person teams would spend half-a-year-long shifts in Old Angerona, then a year planet-side and would go back into space. Old Angerona used to be closer, in orbit around the planet, but after the capture of the Heritage’s Vanguard, the smaller ship remained in low orbit, while the big one moved to a position that allowed for more efficient energy production. Space Crew also manned the Vanguard, and shuttles transporting goods and people between the surface and Vanguard and between Vanguard and Old Angerona. Zo’rene’s best friend Vidian Remigeu was the Deputy Chief of the Wardens, responsible for the Space Crew. [...] Swarms of people on the Roundabout and the meadows were preparing for the festivities to commemorate the tenth anniversary of the Flood. Or rather, of Angerona surviving the Flood, the airstrike ordered by Heritage. They were still standing, still strong and growing each day. The colorful decorations, lanterns and music were a reminder of that. Several scenes were placed around the Lake and people were slowly gathering to watch plays and stationary art, prepare meals and share them with friends and strangers alike, sing, dance, recite poems and enjoy life. Zo’rene and her family—molecular family, not the natural, complete one, consisting of generations of people related by blood, but rather friends of similar age—planned to spend the afternoon and evening among those crowds. They arrived together, Zo’rene with Maisie, Gam’ir and Na’semi with their eight-year-old twins, Vi’Rem’u, her older brother BT, and his wife Mee’na. Their younger brother Fa’rimbe decided to stay behind. Some people still refused to celebrate the anniversary of the Flood. The festival was supposed to be a happy moment. A proof that Heritage hadn’t killed their spirit. Or their bodies, even though many people had died that day, and a lot more had been badly injured. In their molecule Zo’rene and Vi’Rem’u were the only ones who hadn’t sustained any physical wounds. The consequences, as well as the way a person reacted to them, were different for everyone, though. BT, who lost both his legs, ignored his disability and poured all he had and more into his work and into politics. Fa’Rimbe, burned and partially blinded, would rather hide from the world. Gam’ir, whose injuries healed without a visible trace, was in constant pain and that pain often made him grumpy. […] “Mommy, mommy!” Maisie ran toward her. “Can I?” She joined her little hands together and looked at Zo’rene with large eyes. “Please, please.” Zo’rene glanced up. They just arrived at the Lakeside Roundabout. A few paces away, Na’semi argued with her twins about whether it was time to light their candles. “The sun hasn’t set yet,” she tried to reason. “But mom, please,” Lee’lee and Nu’ni chattered over each other. “See how many are floating already?” Ah, right. Lighting the candles and setting them afloat on the Lake was the new tradition of Angerona and kids, especially, loved to participate in it. Each candle symbolized one person’s connection to someone who lost their life in the Flood. The view of the Lake filled with flickering light of the candles at sunset was something to look forward to. Something worth waiting for.

[...]

Scene #7

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Only took 20-something episodes... How evil of me is it that I was kind of bored in the meantime?

It was an enjoyable watch. Not going to be a favorite but I did love the main characters' dynamics very much, and especially the fact that it didn't center at any point on romance, and that romance even didn't play a role in it.

It's hinted that Linglong may have fallen for Zhan Zhao but it just doesn't ever play a role because their friendship is so much more important, and they could have had all these men vying for Linglong, but they just don't? Even Prince Hui who is initially head over heels for her fully backs away once it becomes clear she's not interested. This is so rare and I love that none of the main or even side characters had to be "settled" in a couple by the end. Linglong even gets to swordfight her way out of her own unwanted wedding night, she's so great I love her.

The plot and pacing felt weird at times, but let's be honest, I'm not watching for the plot xD I was mainly watching for the whump and I did feel a little let down that they started so strong and then it just stopped. Even once we learned that ZZ was still poisoned, there was so little actual whump before the last couple episodes. But hey, I did get fed when it was there. And I'm very happy about the end credit scene, even though it's a gag, I love seeing some recovery time.

Fight choreography and cinematography was very good, thank god because that was A LOT of fights. I feel like they left a bunch of plot holes and loose threads hanging, but none that I care enough to puzzle out.

⋆˙⟡ The economy of small towns is not quaint. It is precarious and everyone knows exactly how precarious. When the plant closed, or the mill shut down, or the highway got rerouted fifteen miles east, the whole town felt it in a specific and lasting way. There are towns that have been dying for forty years and the people in them know it and don't talk about it directly but it's in everything. The storefronts with plywood where glass used to be, the school that consolidated with the next town over, the young people who leave and the question of whether they're coming back that nobody asks out loud because everybody already knows the answer. Writing a small town without writing its economic reality is writing a set, not a place.

⋆˙⟡ There is a specific kind of person who runs everything and they are not elected. Every small town has someone. Sometimes a family, sometimes just an individual, who is not officially in charge of anything but whose opinion determines outcomes. The woman who's been on every committee for thirty years. The family that's owned the land since before living memory. They don't have to make demands. Everyone already knows where the edges are. A newcomer or outsider won't see this power structure at first because it isn't written down anywhere. It lives in who gets called first, who's consulted before decisions are made, whose silence means disapproval. Writing this type of character correctly means never letting them explain themselves. They don't need to.

⋆˙⟡ Leaving is a complicated moral act and coming back is even more complicated. The person who got out, who went to college, who moved to the city, who built a life somewhere else, occupies a strange position. There's pride in them, genuine pride, and also a kind of low resentment that nobody names. They think they're better than this. Maybe they do, maybe they don't, but the suspicion is there. And when they come back, for a funeral, because things fell apart, because they got sick, the town doesn't quite absorb them back in the way they expect. They're not who they were. But they're also not from away. They're in a third category that doesn't have a comfortable name and everyone, including them, is a little awkward about it.

⋆˙⟡ People maintain relationships for decades past the point where they would have ended anywhere else. Because the pool is small and leaving is a whole thing, people stay in friendships, in dynamics, in proximity to people they would have simply stopped seeing in a city. The woman who is still friends with her ex-husband's sister because their kids go to the same school and their mothers are in the same Bible study and it would be more work to be enemies than to just keep showing up. These relationships have layers and scar tissue. They are not warm exactly, but they are not cold either. They are maintained. Writers often write relationships as chosen. In small towns, a lot of relationships are simply continued.

⋆˙⟡ Local history is oral and it is everywhere and it is not neutral. The story of what happened to the Henderson property, why the Murphys and the Dales don't speak, what exactly went on the summer of the flood; this history lives in people, not in records. And it gets told selectively, with emphasis and with meaning. The version your family tells is not the version their family tells. History in a small town is a living argument. A character who grew up there absorbed a version of local history that shaped their understanding of who deserves what and why, and that version has gaps and biases they cannot fully see. A newcomer doesn't have access to this history at all and will keep misreading things because of it.