Basicly this is part of something I hope to finish one day. Its a preview. It doesnt have a name yet. But I hope you enjoy :D.
An eerie feeling crept over her, as she carefully made her way though the maze of trees, ferns, shrubs and large stones of Genjulan. Forest. An unnerving feeling in the pit of her stomach, forced her to grip the handle of her drawn sword even tighter. Darkness blurred her vision, the shadowing trees loomed over her, anxiousness grew tightening her movements. Her breath heavy, her heart pounding; her attention drew to movement beside her. She instantiations reflex ordered her upper body to turn sharply, apparent that her knees did not receive the message they gave way beneath her. The ground struck her hard, though her concern was not the blood falling from her forehead, it was rather the fall itself and the sudden crackle of leaves and twigs she had caused.
it was over,
feeling a sharp pain in her back, she rolled slightly as her back numbed, the pain again struck her stomach it too numbed, her breathing tensed as the words rung in her ear-
darkness consumed her, she felt nothing, complete and utter numbness, her surroundings were indistinguishable though her conscious thoughts remained sharp. She silently wondered if this is what death was; though death did not have the reassurance that she would awake.
Feeling a sudden jerk, her eyes burst open; she awoke to the sound of scattered applause. Her back tingled as did her stomach. She dared not move as the large pointed metal prongs of the contraption she was hooked up to were dangerously close to her head.
"Fantastic Ingrid!" exclaimed a voice, the voice was smooth, deep but kind. "Quetsis, good effort, though fate was not with you, nor where your knees by the look of it"
Quetsis rolled her eyes, her inclined chair unwillingly forced her to stare at the ceiling-which was a series of support wooden and bamboo poles and a covering of banana leaves, the ceiling was quite high and arched steeply towards the top point.
"Ingrid's technique was good, her final attack was decent but her movement was not flawless. Since she was detected by Quetsis on two separate occasions" the kind voice said between intervals of clanking metal, locks and harnesses being unstrapped.
"I was quite looking forward to a duel, that would have been very exciting. But oh well."
There was a loud clank; the prongs that had been dangerously close to Quetsis's head disarmed, then lowered. Her chair moved into its original upright position, putting Quetsis's stare on the faces of her fellow classmates, all sitting behind polished wooden desks writing down notes on pieces of parchment. The locks securing her wrists broke their tight seal, but left deep red indented marks behind.
"Now Quetsis's technique was good, she moved soundlessly, though her reaction was slow and then she fell over" the voice continued. "It's a pity we didn't get to witness her skill with a sword." Quetsis unstrapped the harness from her waist, and unbuckled her feet. Pulling herself up from the wooden recliner, she turned to her teacher- Kyran Straughter, weaponry expert, the most mysterious person on Celloton, the most difficult person to converse with and an A grade know-it-all. He was a tall man with a mess of short black hair, his eyes were a shade of dark brown, in his eyes there was a spark of mystery. He had a rather simple appearance though his clothes somewhat advanced for their part of the Cellotainen continent, he wore fine tapestry embodied with gold and silver lace, his shirt crisp and clean, over layered with a black waist coat. Quetsis never had much care for him, her reasons for her particular dislike she took to Kyran were nonsense and unjust. Though Personally she despised the fact that she had known Kyran for the majority of her life and he had never seemed to age all that much, his skin was not warn with the lines of age and was free from blemishes.
"Quetsis" Kyran said, "You may return to your seat"
"Oh...um" she bowed slightly before scurrying back to her desk. Another reason Quetsis held a grudge against Kyran, in his classroom there was the apparent rule of fixed seating plan- Quetsis was fixed at the centre front desk. She sat next to no one whilst her friends were all situated near the back of the classroom, she missed countless conversations, secrets and jokes, they shared during the lessons and would often feel very jealous when her friends mentioned something that had taken place in class.
"Now" Boomed Kyran bringing a sudden halt to the mutterings and whispers around the classroom. "May I have another two volunteers?" there was a slight hesitant reaction from the crowd, before five members of the class raised their hands.
Quetsis turned in her chair;
"Nyoka" Kyran grinned, pulling a polished silver pocket watch and glancing at the time.
A Boy two rows behind Quetsis stepped up, Nyoka was a tall boy, slim, broad shoulders, toned muscular arms and legs, dark complexion. His hair was a mass of golden brown locks.
Nyoka was classified as different, which he was. Different from Quetsis, Kyran and the majority of students occupying the room, he was of Syork decent. Syork was a race of part serpent people who lived in villages along the east coast of Bienna.
He waltzed down the part in the desks, his hands running along the smooth wooden surfaces, Quetsis couldn't help but stare, hypnotised by the beautiful polished crimson scales masking his hands, they protruded up his arms, before fading to his fleshy complexion before his biceps. His scales covered a vast majority of his chest, neck and face. The scales on his neck took on a golden sheen, they trailed down his spine, and across his shoulders. Her turned, shooting a glance at Quetsis. His beautiful yellow eyes; wide and inquisitive; and Quetsis felt her heart flutter.
What do you think? Alot of it doesnt quite make ssense yet because I havnt continued on the all the explanitory parts,
But generally When Quetsis was stabbed- that was a halucination.