NaNoWriMo Day 3
Nov. 4th, 2009 12:21 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wolfanficsMood: Tired
Cameos: None yet.
--Planned? A few.
--Obvious? Possibly.
Word Count: 10,407/50,000 (~20%)
Remarks: Pretentious Charles is pretentious. Also full of himself. This is nothing unusual. Andrew is adorable. Craig is a brat.
Scenes written: 2, and added to a third I started yesterday.
Am I randomly picking things to report on each day? Fuck yes.
Just two scenes to post today. I did work on adding more detail to a third, but it's in the chapter marked 'Pls insert somewhere at some point' and contains the scenes I'm writing out of order that I need to slot in somewhere. I know where it's going, but it's not finished and I won't post it until it's done. I am, at least, trying to post this sequentially/linearly so it makes sense.
That said, I did say writing Andrew's conversations with his radio would be epic word padding and I was right. >:D Because it took a while to get going this evening and it seemed a good way to start. Also, I'm still working on how I'm going to format it. I might put radio man's voice in italics, but I haven't decided yet. When I edit, the conversations will be cleaned up and not sound so... well, eh. They'll be better at any rate. XD
Usual disclaimers of totally first draft and any typos will be fixed later etc. I have some smut planned for later on as well, so I'll warn for that when I get around to posting that particular scene.
Chapter Two
Sneaking Around Like A Thief In The Night
Andrew waited until the household was asleep before he set up his workshop that night. He had managed to perfect the magic that would make his movements silent, freeing him from the worry of waking them up if he dropped something. He had wanted to ask William for help, but decided against it. He wanted to get his workshop set up the way he wanted it first before he let him in.
His radio was the first thing he took. He crept down the staircase towards the lowest level of the mansion. He had managed to create a secret room within the house that no one knew about, leaving his work safe and secure. It was in a part of the mansion no one bothered to go in, another precaution against it being discovered. If his uncle wasn't going to let him have his workshop, he'd have to hide it from him instead.
The door was located at the end of a narrow corridor that once led to the cellars. Andrew knew the spell to let him in by heart; it was one of the few magic spells he could perform perfectly every time. The wall opened before him to reveal a long dark corridor. With a smile, Andrew entered, lantern held high to light the way.
The room at the end had no door. The corridor merely ended and opened onto an empty-looking room. The walls were unadorned, though the floor was in need of polishing and repair. The floorboards were covered in scratches and strange stains from years of neglect, and from Andrew's experimentations. The furniture - an empty dresser, a plain wooden table or two, some cabinets, a fire pit, a bench, and a sink - were bare. It was time to fill it all up again. There was a window on one of the walls, the only sign the room was real.
Andrew set the radio down on the tablel in the centre of the room and took it out of the bag it had travelled in. It still gleamed with pride. Andrew nevertheless gave it a rub with a rag he found in one of the dresser drawers. His fingers hovered over the button to turn it on. Should he listen to it now? Or wait until he'd finished? Perhaps he should wait until he'd finished. Then he could talk to it properly.
He put it back in its bag and shut it in an empty cupboard, afraid someone might steal it. Satisfied, though anxious to return to his radio, he left it behind as he went to retrieve the rest of his things. He went as quickly as he dared, not wishing to rush too fast and end up dropping something. An hour later, everything was in place, and he sealed himself in while he unpacked. He retrieved the radio again and set it on the bench against the wall, and this time he turned it on. He smiled as the now-familiar music came out to greet him in a room it had never been in before.
With his musical accompaniment sorted out, Andrew began unpacking. Every box, parcel and crate was unpacked carefully and each piece of equipment and book placed in its rightful spot. Just as he was placing his books on one of the shelves, his radio's voice returned.
"Hey, Andrew, you there, mate?" came the voice from the radio.
Andrew turned to the radio as if a person had spoken to him. "Oh, hello there. I was hoping you might turn up. We're back home now. I'm setting up my old workshop."
"Oh, right. And where's home again?"
"Birmingham. I believe I have told you this before," Andrew said.
"Still 1822 or whenever you said it was?"
"It is still 1822. It is also the middle of the night, or it was the last time I checked," Andrew said.
"You're up late. What do you do in this workshop? Build machines or sommat?"
"I do experiments with magic and technology. That's how I ended up with you. Magic went wrong and I found myself talking to a queer voice from the future. Magic does that from time to time," Andrew said.
Andrew had stopped unpacking and pulled up a stool to the bench to sit beside the radio, as if it was rude to continue his work while he was there. He lent an elbow on the bench and rested his head on his arm. A wistful smile crossed his lips as he tried to imagine what the future was like.
Andrew paused a moment before speaking. "Does your world have magic too?"
"Nah, no one believes in magic now. All nonsense and whatnot. You telling me it's real?"
"It is indeed real, sir. As real as the conversation we are having. It can create perpetual fire, and make machines move in ways a mere steam engine cannot achieve, it can make musical instruments sing with magic. It can do many great things, of which I do not have time to tell you about," Andrew said.
"Sounds like bollocks to me. But, hey, you're the expert," the voice said.
"I would not call myself an expert, I must confess. I am not as adept at magic as my grandfather. I... do not really remember him. He died when I was all of five years old," Andrew said.
"Sorry to hear that. You sound rather fond of him," the voice said.
"I suppose I am. I discovered his magic books when I was 14. I have been teaching myself magic since that time. I was forbidden to attend the magic academy. It was not considered suitable for my place in society," Andrew said.
"Parents, hey?"
"No, my uncle. My parents are dead. My grandfather was my mother's father. My uncle and his family moved into our estate when my parents died. Someone had to look after the estate. I am not sure I will ever inherit it. There is my older brother, yes, but my uncle has always desired our lands, and I am sure the only reason he took us in was to secure his hold on the estate to gift it to his children. Society is... complicated. Be thankful you are not caught up in it," Andrew said.
"It's still around, though it's not as powerful. Even the Queen's more ceremonial than anything now," the voice said.
"Another thing to be thankful for. At least I can give the pretense of loyalty. Society will protect me. The same cannot be said for the Dissenters, making their vain stand against the King. It is almost over. They will soon fall," Andrew said.
"You don't sound too convinced of that, kid," the voice said.
"Truth be told, and I must swear you to absolute secrecy, I do admit to being sympathetic to their cause. However, it is not my place to Dissent. It would put my future at risk, and I rely on my uncle's support. He would disown me and cast me out if I dared speak against him. I would never claim my parents' estate back if I am robbed of my titles and inheritance," Andrew said.
"Jesus, and I thought my life was crap. I did do a bit of reading, kid, about your time. Never been in a library since high school. Good luck, kid. I reckon you'll need it," the voice said.
"I am quite sure I will. I am attempting to delay my dispatch to the local hospital to begin my practice. I would rather spend my time in my workshop, building things. I always listen to you when I am working. I like to imagine what the instruments look like and how they work," Andrew said.
"I almost wish I could send a picture or something. It'd be easier than-Whoa. Some strange tube has just appeared next to me. Was that your doing, kid?" the voice said.
Andrew looked around and saw a pneumatic tube running down the wall closest to the radio. "I... I did not do this. A pneumatic tube has also appeared in my workshop. Perhaps the magic has done strange things again."
"What's a pneumatic tube?"
"It is a system that transports telegrams and messages. Such documents are contained within a small capsule and the tubes carry those capsules to their destination. I am assuming it is a pneumatic tube that has appeared beside you," Andrew said.
"Must be. I just found a capsule. Reckon these things'll stay here? Cos I can't send ya any plans or anything now. I need to go collect them from a mate. What instruments do you want anyway? Electric guitar, bass guitar, drums, keyboard-"
"All of them. Whatever you can find. I should like to attempt building them. I would implore you to include information regarding the materials used. I will have to improvise some, of course, but the basic material required would be appreciated, if that is not too much trouble," Andrew said.
"I'll get back to you, okay? Look, I gotta go, boss wants me for a meeting. Talk to you later," the voice said.
"We shall talk again, yes of course. I bid you farewell," Andrew said.
With the voice gone, all that was left was music. He turned it down just to make sure he wasn't overheard and stood, stretching his body after sitting still for so long. He was suddenly aware of how tired he was. Should he take a sleep draught to make up the hours he had lost, or merely sleep in late? It was hard to tell which would be the worse option. Sleep draughts were fickle things, and rarely gave you as much rest as they took away, whereas explaining to his uncle why he had slept in until the middle of the day could cause all sorts of issues. Perhaps he should just sleep in until eight o'clock in the morning and nap in the afternoon. Andrew had no desire to antagonise his uncle any more than necessary.
With a yawn, he switched off the radio and hid it away. He hesitated in leaving it alone, but he would have to learn to part with it, and really, his workshop, hidden from the household and only accessible to himself, was the safest place for such a strange and precious machine. Bidding a final goodnight to his workshop, Andrew snuck back out to the mansion to head to bed as quietly as possible. He climbed into bed, exhausted, and fell fast asleep.
You'd think I'd been away for years, the way you're greeting me
Charles was in charge of his own estate. He was a very young Lord of the Manor indeed. Once his father had passed on, and he had inherited his estate, anyone who had tried to take it from him had been greeted with a very stubborn young lad, who had a very loyal and capable Army at his disposal. It was one of the benefits to being part of the ancient peerage of the Great United Kingdom of Britain, and Charles was a very proud Peer indeed.
With the Earl of Aylesford otherwise occupied with battles and politics, the opportunity arose for Charles to secure the devotion of the good people of Birmingham by keeping those Dissenting scum out of their town. His father had commanded the Territorial Army and their devotion had slipped easily to his son, and Charles did not hesitate to deploy them around town and his estate. The people felt safe, and Charles was popular.
Charles liked cultivating his philanthropic appearance. It made his corruption easier to get away with. Along with loyal servants and soldiers, he had a small army of thieves, criminals and illegal traders, all willing to bring in goods Charles desired for whatever he would pay. He had even managed to bribe enough Dissenters to let him use the canal system to import goods, and paid them the canal taxes to placate them. His father would not have approved of his activities, of course, but Charles did not care in the slightest. It was keeping their old family estate in the black and making him a small fortune to boot. If the other traders would not supply the people with what they needed, then Charles would have to do so, and discounted cheaply enough that they could afford it. It was a system that had worked very well for the past five years, and competition was slow to appear.
There were not many others living at the estate with him. His mother had moved to one of their properties in Ireland after their father had died, and by all accounts was thriving perfectly well, no thanks to some Irish Baron who had been seen courting her. Charles' siblings - two sisters, and four brothers - had all left home. Last Charles had heard, his sisters had both married well, and his brothers were serving for their King and country in his Royal Guard. Charles was all that was left to look after their estate. He had even been courting a charming young woman he had seen at the last society ball with the intention of finding a bride to call his own. He would need an heir.
Another reason to stay was Andrew, his childhood friend. They had gone to the same schools together, and saw each other often until Andrew was sent off to University. Charles had attended university as well, however he had not attended the same university and saw little of Andrew while they both stayed in London. Charles was pleased to hear Andrew had returned at last. He had missed him greatly and had sent for him as soon as he'd heard he'd returned. Andrew had wasted little time in answering his summons, and arrived a little after noon.
Charles was waiting for him. Andrew had no sooner dismounted his motorbike, his brother William in tow, than Charles had brought the two of them into a warm hug. Andrew hugged him back eagerly.
"Oh, it has been too long. You were away far longer than I should have permitted, old friend. And dear William, it is good to see you too. You both look so well. Come, come, I have a wondrous afternoon planned, and Andrew, you are not leaving until you have told me everything I have missed since we last spoke," Charles said. He wrapped an arm around each of their shoulders and ushered them inside.
Cameos: None yet.
--Planned? A few.
--Obvious? Possibly.
Word Count: 10,407/50,000 (~20%)
Remarks: Pretentious Charles is pretentious. Also full of himself. This is nothing unusual. Andrew is adorable. Craig is a brat.
Scenes written: 2, and added to a third I started yesterday.
Am I randomly picking things to report on each day? Fuck yes.
Just two scenes to post today. I did work on adding more detail to a third, but it's in the chapter marked 'Pls insert somewhere at some point' and contains the scenes I'm writing out of order that I need to slot in somewhere. I know where it's going, but it's not finished and I won't post it until it's done. I am, at least, trying to post this sequentially/linearly so it makes sense.
That said, I did say writing Andrew's conversations with his radio would be epic word padding and I was right. >:D Because it took a while to get going this evening and it seemed a good way to start. Also, I'm still working on how I'm going to format it. I might put radio man's voice in italics, but I haven't decided yet. When I edit, the conversations will be cleaned up and not sound so... well, eh. They'll be better at any rate. XD
Usual disclaimers of totally first draft and any typos will be fixed later etc. I have some smut planned for later on as well, so I'll warn for that when I get around to posting that particular scene.
Chapter Two
Sneaking Around Like A Thief In The Night
Andrew waited until the household was asleep before he set up his workshop that night. He had managed to perfect the magic that would make his movements silent, freeing him from the worry of waking them up if he dropped something. He had wanted to ask William for help, but decided against it. He wanted to get his workshop set up the way he wanted it first before he let him in.
His radio was the first thing he took. He crept down the staircase towards the lowest level of the mansion. He had managed to create a secret room within the house that no one knew about, leaving his work safe and secure. It was in a part of the mansion no one bothered to go in, another precaution against it being discovered. If his uncle wasn't going to let him have his workshop, he'd have to hide it from him instead.
The door was located at the end of a narrow corridor that once led to the cellars. Andrew knew the spell to let him in by heart; it was one of the few magic spells he could perform perfectly every time. The wall opened before him to reveal a long dark corridor. With a smile, Andrew entered, lantern held high to light the way.
The room at the end had no door. The corridor merely ended and opened onto an empty-looking room. The walls were unadorned, though the floor was in need of polishing and repair. The floorboards were covered in scratches and strange stains from years of neglect, and from Andrew's experimentations. The furniture - an empty dresser, a plain wooden table or two, some cabinets, a fire pit, a bench, and a sink - were bare. It was time to fill it all up again. There was a window on one of the walls, the only sign the room was real.
Andrew set the radio down on the tablel in the centre of the room and took it out of the bag it had travelled in. It still gleamed with pride. Andrew nevertheless gave it a rub with a rag he found in one of the dresser drawers. His fingers hovered over the button to turn it on. Should he listen to it now? Or wait until he'd finished? Perhaps he should wait until he'd finished. Then he could talk to it properly.
He put it back in its bag and shut it in an empty cupboard, afraid someone might steal it. Satisfied, though anxious to return to his radio, he left it behind as he went to retrieve the rest of his things. He went as quickly as he dared, not wishing to rush too fast and end up dropping something. An hour later, everything was in place, and he sealed himself in while he unpacked. He retrieved the radio again and set it on the bench against the wall, and this time he turned it on. He smiled as the now-familiar music came out to greet him in a room it had never been in before.
With his musical accompaniment sorted out, Andrew began unpacking. Every box, parcel and crate was unpacked carefully and each piece of equipment and book placed in its rightful spot. Just as he was placing his books on one of the shelves, his radio's voice returned.
"Hey, Andrew, you there, mate?" came the voice from the radio.
Andrew turned to the radio as if a person had spoken to him. "Oh, hello there. I was hoping you might turn up. We're back home now. I'm setting up my old workshop."
"Oh, right. And where's home again?"
"Birmingham. I believe I have told you this before," Andrew said.
"Still 1822 or whenever you said it was?"
"It is still 1822. It is also the middle of the night, or it was the last time I checked," Andrew said.
"You're up late. What do you do in this workshop? Build machines or sommat?"
"I do experiments with magic and technology. That's how I ended up with you. Magic went wrong and I found myself talking to a queer voice from the future. Magic does that from time to time," Andrew said.
Andrew had stopped unpacking and pulled up a stool to the bench to sit beside the radio, as if it was rude to continue his work while he was there. He lent an elbow on the bench and rested his head on his arm. A wistful smile crossed his lips as he tried to imagine what the future was like.
Andrew paused a moment before speaking. "Does your world have magic too?"
"Nah, no one believes in magic now. All nonsense and whatnot. You telling me it's real?"
"It is indeed real, sir. As real as the conversation we are having. It can create perpetual fire, and make machines move in ways a mere steam engine cannot achieve, it can make musical instruments sing with magic. It can do many great things, of which I do not have time to tell you about," Andrew said.
"Sounds like bollocks to me. But, hey, you're the expert," the voice said.
"I would not call myself an expert, I must confess. I am not as adept at magic as my grandfather. I... do not really remember him. He died when I was all of five years old," Andrew said.
"Sorry to hear that. You sound rather fond of him," the voice said.
"I suppose I am. I discovered his magic books when I was 14. I have been teaching myself magic since that time. I was forbidden to attend the magic academy. It was not considered suitable for my place in society," Andrew said.
"Parents, hey?"
"No, my uncle. My parents are dead. My grandfather was my mother's father. My uncle and his family moved into our estate when my parents died. Someone had to look after the estate. I am not sure I will ever inherit it. There is my older brother, yes, but my uncle has always desired our lands, and I am sure the only reason he took us in was to secure his hold on the estate to gift it to his children. Society is... complicated. Be thankful you are not caught up in it," Andrew said.
"It's still around, though it's not as powerful. Even the Queen's more ceremonial than anything now," the voice said.
"Another thing to be thankful for. At least I can give the pretense of loyalty. Society will protect me. The same cannot be said for the Dissenters, making their vain stand against the King. It is almost over. They will soon fall," Andrew said.
"You don't sound too convinced of that, kid," the voice said.
"Truth be told, and I must swear you to absolute secrecy, I do admit to being sympathetic to their cause. However, it is not my place to Dissent. It would put my future at risk, and I rely on my uncle's support. He would disown me and cast me out if I dared speak against him. I would never claim my parents' estate back if I am robbed of my titles and inheritance," Andrew said.
"Jesus, and I thought my life was crap. I did do a bit of reading, kid, about your time. Never been in a library since high school. Good luck, kid. I reckon you'll need it," the voice said.
"I am quite sure I will. I am attempting to delay my dispatch to the local hospital to begin my practice. I would rather spend my time in my workshop, building things. I always listen to you when I am working. I like to imagine what the instruments look like and how they work," Andrew said.
"I almost wish I could send a picture or something. It'd be easier than-Whoa. Some strange tube has just appeared next to me. Was that your doing, kid?" the voice said.
Andrew looked around and saw a pneumatic tube running down the wall closest to the radio. "I... I did not do this. A pneumatic tube has also appeared in my workshop. Perhaps the magic has done strange things again."
"What's a pneumatic tube?"
"It is a system that transports telegrams and messages. Such documents are contained within a small capsule and the tubes carry those capsules to their destination. I am assuming it is a pneumatic tube that has appeared beside you," Andrew said.
"Must be. I just found a capsule. Reckon these things'll stay here? Cos I can't send ya any plans or anything now. I need to go collect them from a mate. What instruments do you want anyway? Electric guitar, bass guitar, drums, keyboard-"
"All of them. Whatever you can find. I should like to attempt building them. I would implore you to include information regarding the materials used. I will have to improvise some, of course, but the basic material required would be appreciated, if that is not too much trouble," Andrew said.
"I'll get back to you, okay? Look, I gotta go, boss wants me for a meeting. Talk to you later," the voice said.
"We shall talk again, yes of course. I bid you farewell," Andrew said.
With the voice gone, all that was left was music. He turned it down just to make sure he wasn't overheard and stood, stretching his body after sitting still for so long. He was suddenly aware of how tired he was. Should he take a sleep draught to make up the hours he had lost, or merely sleep in late? It was hard to tell which would be the worse option. Sleep draughts were fickle things, and rarely gave you as much rest as they took away, whereas explaining to his uncle why he had slept in until the middle of the day could cause all sorts of issues. Perhaps he should just sleep in until eight o'clock in the morning and nap in the afternoon. Andrew had no desire to antagonise his uncle any more than necessary.
With a yawn, he switched off the radio and hid it away. He hesitated in leaving it alone, but he would have to learn to part with it, and really, his workshop, hidden from the household and only accessible to himself, was the safest place for such a strange and precious machine. Bidding a final goodnight to his workshop, Andrew snuck back out to the mansion to head to bed as quietly as possible. He climbed into bed, exhausted, and fell fast asleep.
You'd think I'd been away for years, the way you're greeting me
Charles was in charge of his own estate. He was a very young Lord of the Manor indeed. Once his father had passed on, and he had inherited his estate, anyone who had tried to take it from him had been greeted with a very stubborn young lad, who had a very loyal and capable Army at his disposal. It was one of the benefits to being part of the ancient peerage of the Great United Kingdom of Britain, and Charles was a very proud Peer indeed.
With the Earl of Aylesford otherwise occupied with battles and politics, the opportunity arose for Charles to secure the devotion of the good people of Birmingham by keeping those Dissenting scum out of their town. His father had commanded the Territorial Army and their devotion had slipped easily to his son, and Charles did not hesitate to deploy them around town and his estate. The people felt safe, and Charles was popular.
Charles liked cultivating his philanthropic appearance. It made his corruption easier to get away with. Along with loyal servants and soldiers, he had a small army of thieves, criminals and illegal traders, all willing to bring in goods Charles desired for whatever he would pay. He had even managed to bribe enough Dissenters to let him use the canal system to import goods, and paid them the canal taxes to placate them. His father would not have approved of his activities, of course, but Charles did not care in the slightest. It was keeping their old family estate in the black and making him a small fortune to boot. If the other traders would not supply the people with what they needed, then Charles would have to do so, and discounted cheaply enough that they could afford it. It was a system that had worked very well for the past five years, and competition was slow to appear.
There were not many others living at the estate with him. His mother had moved to one of their properties in Ireland after their father had died, and by all accounts was thriving perfectly well, no thanks to some Irish Baron who had been seen courting her. Charles' siblings - two sisters, and four brothers - had all left home. Last Charles had heard, his sisters had both married well, and his brothers were serving for their King and country in his Royal Guard. Charles was all that was left to look after their estate. He had even been courting a charming young woman he had seen at the last society ball with the intention of finding a bride to call his own. He would need an heir.
Another reason to stay was Andrew, his childhood friend. They had gone to the same schools together, and saw each other often until Andrew was sent off to University. Charles had attended university as well, however he had not attended the same university and saw little of Andrew while they both stayed in London. Charles was pleased to hear Andrew had returned at last. He had missed him greatly and had sent for him as soon as he'd heard he'd returned. Andrew had wasted little time in answering his summons, and arrived a little after noon.
Charles was waiting for him. Andrew had no sooner dismounted his motorbike, his brother William in tow, than Charles had brought the two of them into a warm hug. Andrew hugged him back eagerly.
"Oh, it has been too long. You were away far longer than I should have permitted, old friend. And dear William, it is good to see you too. You both look so well. Come, come, I have a wondrous afternoon planned, and Andrew, you are not leaving until you have told me everything I have missed since we last spoke," Charles said. He wrapped an arm around each of their shoulders and ushered them inside.