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tanjhero-a · 4 years

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The Festival (Tanjirou x OC)

A/N: another commission! thank you very much @knyheadcanons-imagines :)

Word Count: 2,984

It’s been awhile since Tanjirou was able to genuinely relax-

“Tanjirou! Look, they have such interesting cup designs-”

And to relax and have fun with someone he really, really likes? Seems like a dream come true compared to the stressful, nightmarish world he’s usually in.

Hayami, as always, glows with beauty as she strolls the small town of Iwata with Tanjirou by her side. The two slayers were once again paired up for a mission, but neither of them were complaining. They both seemed to really enjoy each other's company- which is relieving to Tanjirou because the last thing he wanted to be to Hayami is a bad friend or partner.

Though they had come together for a demon slaying mission, that didn’t mean they couldn’t have a good time. The sun still shone brightly in the sky when they met up at the entrance of Iwata, and with no way to spend the time, Tanjirou suggested that they explore and window shop. It seemed like the town was beginning to set up for a festival (they figured out from an old man sitting nearby that they were, it would take place in two days), so merchandise and various items were being set outside in stalls. Hayami thought this was a wonderful idea.

“Oh- those are pretty! Look, this one has little frogs,” Tanjirou looks at the stall full of beautiful handmade porcelain cups and plates with Hayami, picking up a cup and showing it to her. She coos at the cute design and Tanjirou smiles as he looks at the owner setting out more cups. “You made these, right?”

The little old woman looks up, surprised, before she smiles back. “Ah, yes. I like to take suggestions from my customers for new things to make. It doesn’t make a lot of money, but it’s nice.” He believes her. Despite the stress that shows in her posture, probably from running a business during an upcoming festival- she seems content.

“You do a great job- they all look wonderful,” Tanjirou praises.

“Oh!” Hayami suddenly exclaims, “you said you take suggestions?” The lady nods and Hayami beams. “If that’s the case, perhaps you could make a Sakura tree design. I know it’s a bit classic, but I think if you were to perhaps make a sakura tree that’s being pushed by the wind- and have the leaves painted all across the cup-” Hayami gestures vaguely with her hands as she smiles bashfully, “I think that would be rather beautiful.”

The older woman nods, a twinkle in her eye. “You have a creative mind, young lady. Perhaps I’ll make it when spring comes…”

“That’s a great idea!” Tanjirou says. “Maybe we’ll come back in the spring to see it.”

“Oh, that would be fun, wouldn’t it?” Hayami smiles. “And we can bring the others, too. I don’t know if your friend Inosuke would really be interested in this stuff, but still…”

“He’s a bit brash but he’s a little kid if everyone leaves him behind, I’m sure he’ll come and find something to do.”

“Is that right? Well- anyway! It was nice to meet you!” Hayami turns back to the old woman, bowing respectfully before waving. Tanjirou does the same, and the two are back to walking down the stalls, side by side. They continue to find menus of upcoming dishes for the festival and other things such as beautiful kimonos and yukatas with expressive, colorful patterns weaved into their design.

The sun is just beginning to set when something else catches Hayami’s eye. It’s on the other side of the road they were walking on so she crosses the way to look at it, a small gasp leaving her as she inspects whatever it is that intrigued her. Tanjirou follows, definitely curious as he looks over Hayami’s shoulder.

“Ah, that’s quite beautiful, isn’t it?” He comments and his partner nods in return, her fingers hovering over the glass that it lays inside.

It’s a delicate, elegant kanzashi that shines beautifully inside its case. It’s fine craftsmanship is obvious- you can see the details and care that went into creating the flowers and beads. Kanzashi can be quite diverse with its designs but the one Hayami is looking at is a bit more simple, but still dazzling with it’s white and violet color scheme.

“It is,” Hayami eventually agrees, taking her hand away from the glass. Tanjirou can see the longing look in her gaze- it surprises him how much she seems to be taken away with it, and the slight sadness he’d even be able to find if he didn’t have his impressive nose that gave away emotions like that. “I haven’t owned something like this in quite awhile- I almost miss it,” she laughs quietly, “almost.”

Tanjirou doesn’t know what to say, so they stand at the stall in silence until Hayami takes a deep breath in, straightening her posture as she looks at her partner. “It’s probably time we start looking for the demon.” Tanjirou nods and she’s quick to turn away, walking back toward the town entrance without waiting for him to follow.

Hmm.

With Hayami a safe enough distance away, Tanjirou makes a decision. He doesn’t like seeing his friend so disturbed- but she looked genuinely happy when she looked at the kanzashi. He looks at the price for it- and ouch, that’s a lot- but he finds the store owner who was rummaging with supplies in the back of his shop so he can purchase it.

The owner wraps it in a soft, velvet cloth before tucking it inside a box and hands it to Tanjirou. The boy is quick to hide it in one of the pockets of his haori as he thanks the owner and then quickly trots off, needing to find his partner before she wanders too far off on her own.

But, apparently… she had wandered off rather quickly. Tanjirou can still follow her scent, so she definitely wasn’t lost, but she had gone further than he would have thought she would on her own. It worries him that she’d go off to the woods on her own like that when she was clearly upset- something about that just seemed wrong. Hayami doesn’t usually act like that.

Now standing in the middle of the woods, her scent beginning to scatter, Tanjirou frowns and sighs as he looks around him. This feels a little familiar. Their last mission together was just like this- the two of them separated, lost in the middle of dark, tall trees that hid the sky above them with their thick branches and leaves. That last mission wasn’t ideal- Tanjirou ended up having to be saved by Hayami. With how this mission kept repeating itself… he worries something like that may happen again. They shouldn’t be split up- they’re a team.

Tanjirou huffs, closing his eyes and concentrating once more on Hayami’s scent. He’s just being a little more paranoid than usual- probably thanks to his feelings for her. He can’t help but worry a tad more than he usually would.

She’s fine, the slayer assures himself. She’s not that far off, now. Just a little further.

So he continues to put one leg in front of the other, one hand on his katana just in case as he moves over tree roots and streams. Her scent is definitely stronger now, and eventually, he catches sight of her blonde hair, the strands being carried by the gentle cool breeze. The slayer smiles, finally reunited with his partner, and he calls her name. “Hayami!”

She turns her head around, smiling gently at him. That’s exactly the moment that the overwhelming scent of decay and death flies through the air and practically strangles Tanjirou with how heavy it is.

“Hayami!”

The demon comes out of nowhere, suddenly lunging itself from above and at Hayami with full force and speed. They tumble on the ground as Tanjirou frantically runs to catch up, his katana coming out of its sheath faster than he can think.

He swings his sword, slashing it’s arm with a clean strike. The demon’s scream is blood curdling as it seems to completely disregard the slayer under him, launching at Tanjirou instead as the arm it’s missing begins to grow back. Tanjirou lifts his sword in front of him defensively, gripping it tight as the demon tries to yank it away with it’s hand.

A bead of sweat drips down Tanjirou’s face at how desperate and unhinged it’s acting. It’s strong, too- it takes all his effort to keep the demon at bay with just it’s one arm. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to handle it with two.

Planting his feet in the ground, the slayer launches himself backward, landing a couple of feet away to create distance and then he lunges forward again, swinging his sword at its neck. The demon dodges by squatting down, almost completely on the ground. It yells again as it swipes for one of Tanjirou’s leg’s, gripping it tightly and pulling the boy to the ground.

Quickly it scrambles on top of Tanjirou, claws trying to slash his face and stomach as Tanjirou kicks and punches to get it off. He’s just barely able to keep a grip on his sword, stabbing it in the stomach and making it scream loud enough that he feels the need to cover his ears.

Tanjirou shoves the demon off, onto the dirt ground and forces the katana out of the demon’s body. It squirms and screams and cries until the slayer quickly stabs down again, at its neck, effectively making it quiet.

He looks toward Hayami. She hasn’t moved from her spot on the ground, laying still. Tanjirou can tell she’s still breathing, but seeing her like that…

He swings his katana one last time, the head of the demon rolling to the side, detached from its body.

As soon as the body begins to disintegrate from below him, Tanjirou stumbles to get himself back on his feet and runs toward Hayami. He kneels beside her, hands hovering around her, unsure of what to do. Her chest moves steadily- but once he lifts her head, he can see the dirt and blood that sticks to her hair and skull. “Hayami…” He bites his lip and his eyebrows furrow in worry. “Don’t worry. You’re going to be fine,” he speaks to himself as he gently lifts his partner off the ground, securely holding her in his arms.

Standing up once again, Tanjirou takes a deep breath. He looks around, making sure he isn’t forgetting anything- and once he’s determined that he has everything he needs, he tightens his grip on Hayami and starts to head out of the forest and back into town.

---

The townsfolk were very kind and accommodating once Tanjirou came. Maybe it was because he looked so young and desperate, his friend collapsed in his arms, or maybe it’s because he helped free their town from a demon, but they helped him and Hayami nonetheless. Tanjirou wasn’t really the one who needed medical care, but the doctors and nurses of the small medical center they placed Hayami in helped distract him and talk to him until his friend woke up.

They informed him that she was definitely okay, just exhausted from the fight she had endured. They stitched up all her injuries and have painkillers at the ready for whenever she wakes, and that’s really the best news that Tanjirou could ask for. So until she wakes… he sits by her bedside, wracked with guilt for not helping her when she needed him.

Tanjirou sighs, probably for the hundredth time since he’s been here, as he continues to wait for her to wake. He can’t help but notice that even wrapped up in bandages and bruised, Hayami still looks as beautiful as ever. And he knows that appearances don’t mean everything, but sometimes he really can’t help but wonder. How did someone like her get caught up in demon slayer business? She had explained her circumstances to Tanjirou once before, but she didn’t get into too many details.

He wonders why she won’t go into the details.

But- ah- now is not the time to wonder. Slowly, Hayami’s body moves from under the thin blankets that cover her and Tanjirou watches her face anxiously until eventually her violet eyes flutter open. He smiles immediately as she looks around, confusion on her face before she looks toward Tanjirou and her eyes light up.

“You’re finally awake,” Tanjirou says, mostly to himself as he takes one of her hands in his and squeezes. “I’m so glad,” he smiles even brighter as Hayami returns his hold, happiness bursting inside his chest.

“How long was I asleep?” She asks, looking out the window. “Are we still in town?”

“Ah, yes. You weren’t passed out for long- it’s late afternoon now… I didn’t want to go all the way back to the Estate if you needed help earlier than that, and the people here are very kind and helped you right away. We can travel back to the Estate together once you’re feeling up to it.” Tanjirou explains to her, letting her hand go as he anxiously puts his hands in his lap instead.

Hayami sighs gently through her nose, leaning back on the pillows of her bed as she looks back to Tanjirou. “Thank you, Tanjirou… I’m sorry I worried you. I was a bit reckless, wasn’t I? I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine as long as you’re fine. But, Hayami- we-” he stutters a bit, eyes looking anxiously away before they settle on her again. He frowns just slightly as he leans forward, keeping her eye contact. “We’re a team, Hayami,” he says. “When we’re on a mission, we fight together. We stay together. Please remember that and please trust in me like I trust in you, okay?”

Hayami stares up at him, surprise in her features as her eyes grow wide. She’s silent for a few beats, long enough that Tanjirou slowly backs away from her personal space and back further on the chair he sits on, worried he crossed a line. But then her hand lifts, grabbing one of his own again, and she smiles gently at him.

“You’re right, Tanjirou. I do trust you, I do. I just got caught up in a moment and I… forgot about all that for a moment. It won’t happen again, I promise. You’re my teammate, and you’re my friend. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“W-well,” Tanjirou flusters. “The demon is dead now, and that’s what matters! And I’m just glad you’re okay.” When he pulls his hand away, his elbow his something hard in his haori, and suddenly he remembers something important as his face lights up. “I forgot! I have something for you!”

“For me?” Hayami looks surprised and the slayer nods, taking the box out of his pocket and placing it in her hands. “Really?”

“Of course.” He tries not to show how jittery he is to see her open it.

She opens the box gently, observing how fancy it looked before taking the purple cloth sitting inside out. She unwraps the cloth, and then once again, she gasps.

“R-really?” She looks up at Tanjirou, and she almost looks like she doesn’t believe what she’s seeing. “You got this for me?”

She holds the white and purple kanzashi carefully in her hands, touching and feeling the object with the tips of her pale fingers.

“You looked so happy when we saw it earlier, so I thought you should have it.” Tanjirou says and Hayami just shakes her head, her face practically beaming.

“I can’t believe you would get this for me, Tanjirou,” she holds the pin to her chest, “thank you so much. I mean it.”

Tanjirou’s face bursts into shades of pink and red as he mutters, “of course…” Hayami laughs just a little bit at the sight of him.

“...It reminds me of my life before I was a slayer,” she says, and Tanjirou’s head picks up in surprise. She isn’t looking at him anymore, but rather the kanzashi again. “My life used to be full of delicacies and beautiful ornaments like these. Even though I know that the life I have is much better for me, sometimes I miss it… It’s been so long since I’ve even been able to hold a lovely thing such as this. It’s kind of odd, isn’t it?”

“It’s not odd,” the words slip out of Tanjirou naturally. “I think… it’s natural to miss home, regardless of how you feel about it now or where you are now. My life wasn’t very lavish or privileged, but it was still my life. My home and my family.” Tanjirou looks at the kanzashi in her hands, and then down at his checkered haori. His hands grasp the material, his thumb stroking it gently. “I miss it, too.”

“Yeah…” Hayami hums, a gentle smile on her lips. And then, to break the sombre atmosphere, she speaks again. “The festival in this town… It’s tomorrow night, right?”

Tanjirou perks up. “Yes, I think it is…” Looking outside the window again, he can see the townsfolk continuing to set up things in preparation. He can even see someone hauling fireworks from a distance.

“We should come back here for the festival if we can,” Hayami says. “And it’ll be during the nighttime, so maybe we can even have Nezuko out, too.”

At the idea, Tanjirou’s eyes sparkle as he thinks about how happy that would make his sister. It’s been a long time since the siblings were able to be in a festival- and he’d even be able to show her the cute cups they had found earlier. “I think that’s a great idea,” Tanjirou smiles genuinely, and Hayami smiles back, feeling a bit warmer than before.

#kny #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #commission #commissioned fic #tanjirou kamado #kamado tanjirou #tanjiro kamado #oc

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artemis-entreri · 5 years

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[[ This post contains Part 2 of my review/analysis of the Forgotten Realms/Drizzt novel, Boundless, by R. A. Salvatore. As such, the entirety of this post’s content is OOC. ]]

Genre: Fantasy

Series: Generations: Book 2 | Legend of Drizzt #35 (#32 if not counting The Sellswords)

Publisher: Harper Collins (September 10, 2019)

My Rating: 2 out of 5 stars

Additional Information: Artwork for the cover of Boundless and used above is originally done by Aleks Melnik. This post CONTAINS SPOILERS. Furthermore, this discussion concerns topics that I am very passionate about, and as such, at times I do use strong language. Read and expand the cut at your own discretion.

Contents:

I. Introduction

II. Positives II.1 Pure Positives II.2 Muddled Positives

III. Mediocre Writing Style (you are here) III.1 Bad Descriptions III.2 Salvatorisms III.3 Laborious “Action”

IV. Poor Characterization IV.1 “Maestro” IV.2 Lieutenant IV.3 Barbarian IV.4 “Hero” IV.5 Mother

V. World Breaks V.1 Blinders Against the Greater World V.2 Befuddlement of Earth and Toril V.3 Self-Inconsistency V.4 Dungeon Amateur V.5 Utter Nonsense

VI. Ego Stroking VI.1 The Ineffable Companions of the Hall VI.2 Me, Myself, and I

VII. World Breaks VII.1 No Homo VII.2 Disrespect of Women VII.3 Social-normalization VII.4 Eugenics

VIII. What’s Next VIII.1 Drizzt Ascends to Godhood VIII.2 Profane Redemption VIII.3 Passing the Torch VIII.4 Don’t Notice Me Senpai

Mediocre Writing Style

I admire some authors for their lyrical phrases, some for their poignant imagery, some for their rapid-fire dialogues, and with so many others, for their ability to show a true mastery of language. I have never felt this way about Salvatore's literature, which will probably never win any awards for its diction if it remains consistent to its current level of quality. Salvatore has his moments, which I've described in the previous section, but sadly, they range from being vastly to overwhelmingly dwarfed by the rote and tedious writing practices he employs. It doesn't help that in addition to the employment of unimaginative diction, Salvatore writes a lot of long and laborious scenes full of words that serve little more than to fill up space. There is so much telling instead of showing, a problem further compounded by the exhausting amount of poorly-chosen anecdotes which he relates that, despite being a nonstop action book, Boundless is very hard to pick back up after putting it down. And, of course, there's the repetition of the same themes, of the same kind of things happening to the same characters, that certainly doesn't help the predictability.

Bad Descriptions

For every good turn of phrase I mentioned earlier, there exists a score of bad ones. If I were to give examples of all of them, with the other things I'd like to discuss, this article would end up being as long as the novel itself, so I'll simply point out the most cringe-worthy ones.

The metaphor that takes the cake for the worst of the book is, "The horde had come, and now it pounced upon them misshapen humanoid forms, the wretched lesser demons known as manes, shambling out of the brush like an army of humans risen from the dead." Basically, what is happening here is that Salvatore pretty much wrote, "those demons came shambling out like zombies". It doesn't matter how much one dresses up a turd, the most one gets from the effort is a fancier-looking but just as stinky piece of excrement. Furthermore, the dressings that Salvatore uses in this example are flimsy and unsatisfactory in substance, with the vague adjective "wretched" that's as descriptive here as his customary usages of "magnificent"/"fine" and the tedious repetition in "humanoid" and "human". Additionally, it begs the question of why Salvatore specified an army of humans in a world in which the undead of all races would shamble, or, better yet, why not simply say "zombie", for a zombie is a prevalent and known theme in both the Realms and our world. It would've been one of the few ways Salvatore uses a shared concept without incurring a world break like he normally does.

A close second in the diction mediocrity contest is, "as if Yvonnel's breath, blowing them out, was that of a magical dragon, one designed specifically against the life force of a demon." Why a "magical dragon"? Are there non-magical dragons that breathe magic? Not that there exists a type of dragon in Forgotten Realms lore with a breath weapon that is specifically designed against the life force of a demon. However, as is par for his course, to counteract lore not agreeing with his lazy constructions, Salvatore doesn't bother to research an appropriate in-universe analogy. He completely invents one but doesn't actually develop it, not that doing so would be appropriate in this context, but the creation of it is wholly unnecessary for the sake of a poor analogy.

Another awful passage is, "with horrid creatures -- half drow and half spider -- all around the drow women and filtering back through the many shadows of the forest. Scores of these horrid mutants milled about..." It's bad enough to use the adjective "horrid" in an empty and vague way, but to do it twice in quick succession makes it seem like Salvatore doesn't know how to describe driders. By itself, a half-drow half-spider creature isn't inherently abominable. There's an increasingly large number of art pieces featuring dark elf arachnid centaurs, with beautiful humanoid faces and torsos attached to streamlined spider bodies that would even give arachnaphobes pause. What makes driders menacing, which Salvatore has described himself in the past, is that they're not these romanticized images of spider centaurs. Their humanoid torsos, rather than looking like they should belong to supermodels, are bloated and misshapen such that they're more reminiscent of the flesh beasts of nightmares. They have vicious mandibles protruding from their cheeks, sometimes multiple insectoid eyes, making their faces look more decidedly non-elven even with pointed ears. Admittedly, the physical appearance of driders has fluctuated through the D&D editions, but it's as though Salvatore couldn't be bothered to look up what their current iteration is. Maybe he did try and couldn't find a definitive answer, in which case he could've approached the drider's description in a more evocative way, for example by describing how the tips of their arachnid legs were sharp like swords digging into the earth, or perhaps by mentioning their aura of menace as they regarded the dwarves whom they towered over with hungry anticipation, as though the shorter folk were their cocooned victims waiting to be devoured. Or, even referencing how the driders came to be, the excruciating transformation process and fall out of favor with their goddess, both of which would've rendered them at least slightly unhinged.

Some descriptions consist of fewer words, but are just as bad. For instance, Jarlaxle's bracers are at one point described as "magical wrist pouch". This evokes an imagery of literal pouches hanging from around his wrists, dangling like a pair of testicles in the wind, testicles that shoot out magical daggers into Jarlaxle's hands. Another similar example doesn't contain an analogy but is just as bad is, "a smallish man dressed in finery worthy of a noble house. His face was clean-shaven, his hair cut short and neatly trimmed." This description is so ambiguous and features adjectives that have been applied so frequently to other characters that it could have easily been Artemis Entreri, except it is someone quite different (Kimmuriel Oblodra). Putting aside how jarring it is to use "man" to describe male drow, there's a world break here in that drow shouldn't need to be clean-shaven, as they can't really grow facial hair, but at least there's the nice detail that Kimmuriel is apparently short-haired, contrary to what many assume of him to have long hair. Nonetheless, what happened to the usage of the word "short"? Furthermore, why not just state a height for Kimmuriel and put it into his character bible? To be fair, I've speculated that Salvatore doesn't use character bibles, but it's never too late to start.

Salvatorisms

Boundless sees a return of what I've dubbed “Salvatorisms”, which are clichés and poor sentence structures that Salvatore abuses frequently. In Boundless, there's more than just those Salvatorisms dragging the narrative down. It's disappointing to see a professional author, especially one who'd been working in the field for over three decades, fail to follow a rule taught to amateur writers. Making the New York Times' Bestsellers' list does not make the usage of clichés, such as "merry band of misfits", acceptable. Especially considering how it's not even appropriate in the context that it's used for, namely, describing Bregan D'aerthe. Even though it's a priestess of Lolth who is considering the mercenary band this way, it's so incredibly unlikely that she'd think they were jolly, which the meaning of that cliché specifically includes.

In Boundless, we also see a return of the “how [character] [action]ed!” sentence construction, after a refreshingly complete lack of any in Timeless. This is one of Salvatore's favorite ways to tell and not show, for stating how a certain thing performs a certain feat doesn't, ironically, actually ever convey how that thing is done. There's a new overused Salvatorism to add to his cliché stable, namely, the “up went”, “down went”, and other similar ways to open a sentence. There's nothing wrong with these kinds of phrases when used sparingly and with variety. As it is, the flavor of the text is quite intolerable, seasoned as it is with an excess of one type of additive. By the same token, in a fight scene between Arathis Hune and Zaknafein, Zaknafein's superior prowess is indicated by the sentence, "Except Zaknafein wasn't there". This sort of device can be effective to convey surprise and the unexpected, again, when used sparingly, but unfortunately, it is yet another one of Salvatore's favorite writing practices. The sentence is hardly even a proper sentence, but is used as its own paragraph.

The telling and not showing approach in Boundless extends beyond the diction. On numerous occasions, it's almost as if Salvatore couldn't be bothered to actually demonstrate how something is true, but instead, just tells us that it's the way it is. One way that he does this is through the usage of rhetorical questions, for instance, "Could anything be more invasive and traumatizing than having your body stolen from your control and turned against you?" I'm not sure if any of his readers can actually answer that question from personal experience. It's almost as though Salvatore did that purposely to minimize the possibility of someone realizing that different strokes exist for different folks and that the most traumatizing scenario for one person could be very different from that of another person. That aside however, a question like this leaves little room for imagination, and is even a bit bullying, for it corners the readers into having to answer "no" even while the scenario painted prior to it was not powerful enough to solidify that impression.

Another way that Salvatore tells rather than shows is to use empty comparisons that lack a frame of reference. For instance, the reader is to understand Athrogate's strength and resolve through, "A lesser fighter would have fallen away in terror. A less sturdy person would have simply melted before the reeking horror." The problem with these statements is that they don't serve any purpose. They state the obvious, and are a poor attempt at being evocative. They have the same effect as simply stating that Athrogate stood his ground and didn't falter, except being more verbose and less effective.

It's not just word usage that's repetitive. Boundless sees a continuation of the theme of having the same sort of things happen to the same characters. It's as though each character is a designated target for certain motifs, with those motifs not being applicable to other characters. For instance, Entreri appears to be the go-to target for torture, and after being made the one with the repeated childhood sexual assault, the sexual victimization in Menzoberranzan, the victim of rape by a succubus in Neverwinter and the over seven decades of enslavement, I'm getting very sick of seeing him the victim of yet another long-term grueling experience. Meanwhile, Drizzt is as holier-than-thou and full of sanctimony as he was in Timeless, and it's not a flattering look for him. I'm not sure if Salvatore thinks it is, but it isn't so much character consistency as stubborn obnoxiousness. In Drizzt's journal entry, he writes, "I fear that Zaknafein's transformation will not come in time to earn friendship, even familial love, from Catti-brie or from our child, and in that instance, it will not be in time to earn the love of Drizzt Do'Urden." Drizzt then goes on to state, "But he is my family by blood, and she is my family by choice. I have come to learn that the latter is a stronger bond." While the message that's attempted to be conveyed here is a very important one, the validity of it is harmed by the context. It's very unfair for Zaknafein to be presented as though he were more akin to the other Do'Urdens instead of the unconditionally loving father who didn't hesitate to put himself in harm's way, including dying in excruciating and humiliating ways so that his son could have a chance at freedom. This is yet another scenario in which Salvatore creates unnecessary drama while ignoring facets of his story that have genuine dramatic potential. Zaknafein is not the type of character with whom Drizzt should have to choose between family by blood and family by choice, as he's already shown that Zaknafein is trying his best to adapt to the new world. It is true that there are few opportunities for Drizzt to flaunt his moral beacon in Boundless, but there's nothing wrong with that, and should've just been left as it is, but it's as though Salvatore can't write a Drizzt novel without Drizzt having to be sanctimonious and preachy. It was wholly unnecessary to villainize a non-villainous character to repeat some of the same old tired writing practices.

Also in the category of repetitive and tired themes, albeit one that doesn't further butcher the characters, is the catching of projectiles in one's cloak. This is a phenomenon that happens so frequently in the Drizzt books that had a reader no knowledge of the purpose of cloaks, they might think that their main purpose is to act as an anti-missile system. Cloaks originally became common because they protected the wearer from inclement weather while allowing access to the wearer's worn possessions. In D&D and other games, it became an additional equipment slot and as such, gained an practical value as well. A cloak without enhancing properties would actually serve as a detriment in a fight, acting as a loose and difficult to control extension of one's body that can be easily grabbed by the opponent, something that's accurately made a point of in The Incredibles. I suppose that there could exist a magical item like a Cloak of Missile Catching, but this isn't what any of Salvatore's characters ever wear. It's difficult to give Salvatore points for coming up with a creative use for what's basically an aesthetic item because it's just so impractical and unrealistic. It doesn't help that he repeats this motif so much that it approaches ego-stroking levels.

The second most major contributing factor to Boundless' tediousness is the obscenely large amount of recollections strewn throughout the book, making them overall more unsightly than the plastic polluting our modern day oceans. In the scenes set during the current timeline, almost at every turn we're given a history of what so-and-so is, or who so-and-so have associations with. These reviews, although brief, make up for their concision with their frequency. I can understand why Salvatore does this, for Timeless wasn't as standalone as he'd hoped, but his attempted method to rectify this fact in Boundless is more distracting than enlightening. Especially considering that much of the reviewed content is along the lines of, "Drizzt, trained in the ways of the monk by Grandmaster Kane", ergo, telling us how awesome Salvatore's protagonists are rather than shedding light into the significant events that shaped what is happening in the current book. When a significant event is mentioned, it is done so in such a cursory way that all a new reader would know is that something happened in the past that relates to what is happening presently, but otherwise it's like explaining different colors to someone who's never had vision before. For instance, "this was a trick Kimmuriel had used before, and very recently with Drizzt in Menzoberranzan, creating a telekinetic barrier that absorbed the power of every strike, magical or physical, holding it in stasis, ready for the magically armored person to release it back." This recap does manage to explain the relevant mechanic, however it also alludes to a very significant event, yet it's unclear what the purpose of it doing so is. The reference to what Drizzt did in Menzoberranzan doesn't say enough to allow anyone who hasn't read Hero to understand, but someone who's read Hero should remember the details of the climax of the book. So much of what Boundless presents is like this, retreads that make the novel tedious to read for those who have been reading, and probably only serve to further confuse those who haven't. Who is Salvatore writing for, then? Those who continue to throw money his way but never pay enough attention to what happens in his books to remember the climaxes? Are these the kinds of people that any author should point to as "proof" of their literary excellence?

Laborious "Action"

The one aspect that drives most of Boundless' tediousness is the sheer amount of long and boring action sequences that are wordy and not much of anything else. Salvatore's action scenes are more reminiscent of IKEA furniture assembly instructions than descriptive imagery, except that IKEA instructions are actually visual enough for one to use in constructing a pragmatic (and sturdy) physical object. Salvatore's action scenes are reminiscent of the type of smut in fanfiction that gives fanfiction a bad name, namely, cut and dried descriptions that are more like making a grocery list than painting a picture. At the very least, Salvatore's action scenes are not too anatomically ridiculous (yet), which makes them slightly better than the kind of fanfiction referenced.

An example of a grocery list action scene is as follows:

There's so much going wrong in this passage. The inconsistent specificity of each element makes the whole feel like an incongruous collection of parts. Jarlaxle hooking his fingers on a jag in the stone is clear enough, as is flipping over, and rolling his feet can be understood even if vague, but how all of that ties together is as clear as a chunk of obsidian. How Jarlaxle pulled himself around the base of a mound isn't articulated, other than that he did it while keeping his momentum, which is superfluous because any acrobatic maneuver would keep its momentum because momentum is what makes those maneuvers possible. It's like the only basic physics concept that Salvatore understands is gravity, because "he fell with gravity" is one of the few things he doesn't spell out in his action scenes. In any case, specifics like if Jarlaxle went left or right aren't what's needed, but rather, how about some evocative imagery like, "he snapped like a whip around the sharp turn"? I'm not saying that's the correct analogy to use, I honestly don't know, because I have no idea what's supposed to be going on in this passage. The same is true of what's said of Zaknafein, which while a bit better, is still painfully dry. Some of the stuff doesn't make sense, for instance, how did Zaknafein leap on the wide base of the stalagmite? The base of a stalagmite is that which the stone formation grows out of, inside the rock itself, does Salvatore mean that Zaknafein propelled himself off of the side of the stalagmite near its base? The rest of the sequence, it's unclear what Zaknafein is flipping over and running along. Is it still the same stalagmite, or a different stalagmite? All of that is just words words words, except, of course, the one thing that's clear enough: that Drizzt is awesome and so is his dad.

Another grocery list action scene is, "A glance left, a glance right, and off he sprinted, up the side of a stalagmite mound, leaping, spinning, somersaulting, to hit the ground in perfect balance and at a full run." What this scene brings to mind is more along the lines of a Driver's Ed course followed by the Sky Dancer toy from the 90s rather than the agile moves of an acrobat. Again, an excess number of words are used to little effect, and all that's conveyed is, "Zaknafein is awesome". I almost feel like he should be clad in skin-tight black leather and be wearing high-tech sunglasses.

Yet another example of writing that only conveys how awesome Salvatore's characters are is, "the barbarian came to realize that this foe was far more akin to Drizzt or Entreri than to what he'd expect from a pampered Waterdhavian lord. The man's sword worked in a blur, every movement sending it at Wulfgar in a different angle, sometimes a slash, sometimes a stab, sometimes a punch from the hilt." The first sentence in this passage, although not describing any action, tells us a lot more about Wulfgar's opponent than the second sentence, which does actively describe the man's actions, even to a new reader whom wouldn't know about Entreri's history and what makes him what he is. Furthermore, there's a stuttered nature to the second sentence, with the "blur" description disagreeing with the choppy rhythm of the specified attacks. Rather than a blur, the noble's attacks feel more like a predictable pattern of programmed thrusts from an automated training dummy.

Boundless wouldn't be the first Salvatore book in which I'd wondered if he'd confused himself with his writing. One example of what leads me to think so from this novel is:

What is even going on here? Did Salvatore switch Zaknafein and Jarlaxle's names by accident, intending for Zaknafein to be the one caught by surprise? Zaknafein's "don't wait for us!" suggests that he knows what's going on and has some level of confidence in the circumstances, yet as is demonstrated later in the passage, this is not the case. Indeed, later in the sequence (not shown), Jarlaxle is the one in control, deploying a back-up plan to guarantee their safety amidst the chaos. Yet, it's unlikely for Jarlaxle to scream, and Zaknafein to gasp, so perhaps Salvatore meant what he wrote. It's all too convoluted to tell, however. Further, while its a trifle nit-picky, wouldn't the command to "Let 'em fly, boys!" come before the quarrels were discharged? I mean, these are quarrels that do make things like stalactites explode, both powerfully AND beautifully, but dwarves have a lot of discipline.

Perhaps the most tedious action sequences are Zaknafein's extensive training montages, like the one in chapter four. It takes up literally forty percent of the chapter and proceeds in excruciatingly dry detail. The entirety of it is too long to quote here, but there are a lot of statements like, "hands across his belly to grab the hilts of his swords at his hips, right forearm over left", "he turned his right wrist as that sword came across bringing it vertical in its sweep, then shortening the cut, while the left went across perfectly horizontally, with full follow-through and even a step with the left foot in that direction", "he went to a series of same-hand, same-hip draws, where he brought forth the sword on his left hip with his left hand, right hand for the right", and so on. It's like Salvatore is writing The Dummy's Guide to Drow Swordfighting, as these sentences are more like step by step guide points than flowing combat moves. It's actually worse than that, because more than likely, these moves are more theatrical than actually practical, such that anyone who followed such a guide would indeed be a dummy, and quite a dead one at that if they expected to survive in drow society like that. And there's just so much of it, such that it begs the question of if Salvatore had a word count quota that he had to fill.

Finally, after a refreshing break away from it in Timeless, the standard Salvatore C-rated Hollywood stop motion fight scenes are back. Speaking to many members of the SCA and historical combat re-enacters and fencers, including ones who have read Salvatore's books, have taught me that most of the combat scenes, specifically concerning the usage of swords, are totally wrong. A consensus among the actual martial artists is that there's a lot of slashing when there should be stabbing, and the way that the characters conduct themselves in combat is more akin to sports than martial arts, being particularly evocative of hockey. It isn't surprising that Salvatore's inspiration comes from hockey, that is what he knows after all (more than swordsmanship and D&D anyway), but it seems that rather than improving his knowledge with research, he supplements it with popular themes in movies. Something like, "slowly they closed, though, until they were but a few strides away, when both, as if some silent understanding had passed between them, leaped into the air and roared" feels more like a transcription from a live action sequence, for in reality no purpose is served for two combatants to leap at each other roaring. It's a waste of energy, especially as the two have been aware of each other's prowess for a while and are not easily intimidated. If this scene was something that we were watching rather than reading, the sound effects might enhance the the drama, and while imagined sound effects can do the same for a written scene, something as bland as simply "roaring", just makes the whole scene banal.

#ooc #Boundless #legend of drizzt #Forgotten realms #R A Salvatore #book review #Generations Trilogy #Artemis Entreri #Jarlaxle Baenre #Kimmuriel Oblodra #Yvonnel Baenre #Arathis Hune #Drizzt Do'Urden #Catti-brie #Athrogate #drow #drider

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myaekingheart · 5 years

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13. Paraphernelia

read the scarecrow and the bell on ao3

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What if I can't forget you? I'll burn your name into my throat. I'll be the fire that'll catch you. What's so good about picking up the pieces? None of the colors ever light up anymore in this hole. -Caraphernelia, Pierce the Veil

Kakashi laid in bed, watching the shadows dance against the ceiling. The ticking of his alarm clock seemed far louder as he struggled to fall asleep. His mind was racing. He couldn’t stop thinking of Rei.

Ever since that afternoon in the lobby, watching that butterfly hatch, he had felt strange and unhinged. His desperation to avoid her had transformed into a childish excitement every time he laid eyes on her. She reminded him of something he had for so long considered lost, though he wasn’t quite sure what it was yet. He hadn’t found its name. He just knew the feeling, bright and brilliant and commanding. A part of him began to realize perhaps this reunion wasn’t for the worst, after all. He had spent so many years distancing himself for fear of putting her in the line of fire, of endangering her. He couldn’t afford to lose anyone else. No matter how hard he tried, though, she was stubborn and strong. She pushed back and now here she was, a member of the black ops alongside him. She had earned her place here, though he didn’t even want to think about the process of getting there. The thought of her killing men and fighting in battles turned his blood icy. The thought of her actively pursuing danger at all terrified him.

What did this mean for the two of them, though? Clearly, she was unavoidable. By now he had made his peace with that. But how far was he willing to let things go? What would happen if he fully accepted her back into his life? She made him feel strange and unsure of himself, as if he was a kid all over again. Self-conscious, almost. He wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or not. Either way, he liked the way she made him feel, or at least he thought he did. He wasn’t entirely sure. It had been a long while since he had felt anything like this, if he ever really had at all. There was something vaguely familiar about it, but only in the same way as a dream. It was as if he had perhaps felt this way once before a long, long time ago, perhaps in a completely different dimension, even.

Still, none of this addressed the most pressing issue: their careers. The life of a shinobi was a dangerous one and as far as he was concerned, he couldn’t stand to let anything into his life he could risk losing. The ANBU made this even more significant. He was supposed to be nothing but a machine, an anonymous mask of a person doing his duty and nothing more. Wasn’t he? He didn’t quite know anymore. Was it possible to have a genuine social life with this career? He had always thought not, but now he didn’t know what to think. It was as if Rei’s presence in his life was making him question everything he thought he knew.

When he finally fell asleep, he saw himself in a field near a lake. He was laying in the grass, staring up at the sky. Everything was good. He had no fears or responsibilities. He looked to his left and saw Rei beside him, a gangly child with crooked teeth and unkempt hair. She grinned at him and clasped his hand in hers, then pointed up at the clouds overhead, giggling.

“Look, ‘Kashi! Look at that one!” she exclaimed. “It looks like a dog! And that one looks like a bunny!” Kakashi smiled at her, looking up at the clouds overhead. They remained silent for a moment before Rei then spoke again. “I like clouds. They’re fun to look at. Especially when I’m sad. Sometimes, when daddy gets angry or mommy won’t let me do what I want, I like to come out here and look at them. They make me feel better. When I look at the clouds, I can see anything I want to in them. They make me feel a little less icky.”

I can see anything I want in them. Kakashi turned that thought over in his mind. To think, clouds were unformed masses, blank canvases floating through the sky. They were statues not yet sculpted, lives waiting to be built. Perhaps he was nothing but a cloud, unformed and blank. A cloud once dark and gloomy now cleaned and pure and ready to be turned into something new. He looked over at Rei laying beside him, grinning wide as she stared up at the sky. That feeling inside him burned stronger than ever before and he suddenly felt a strong surge of what he could only assume was nostalgia or déjà vu. Familiar and breathtaking. He squeezed her hand a little tighter and the feeling swelled even more. What was this feeling? It terrified him, but he liked the way it felt. Almost as if it was something not meant to be felt and in feeling it, he was committing some sort of crime. A forbidden emotion locked away and never meant to resurface.

A voice called to him from beyond, first vague and echoed but growing ever-clearer. He swore he recognized it, the voice of a young girl unlike Rei. He slowly picked his head up but as he did so, he felt the tension build in the redhead’s grip as if she didn’t want him to leave her. His curiosity got the best of him, though, and their fingers tangled apart. He sat up and looked on to find Rin and Obito standing in the distance, waving him nearer. He rose to meet them, then looked back down at Rei still on the ground. She was still as a corpse, hands folded atop her chest and glassy eyes staring skyward. He glanced back to his childhood teammates only to find the meadow had been engulfed in flames. Their bodies burned and then charred, ashes drifting away in the breeze. He locked eyes with Rin’s sad face as she whispered something to him and his heart ached. Kakashi…why…? Why did you…?

Kakashi sprung awake gasping for breath. His face had grown hot under his mask and his nose itched and for a minute he was certain he was going to be sick. His eyes landed on the framed picture beside his bed, the one of his old team. His stomach churned and he slowly set the picture face-down. He didn’t want to think about Rin and Obito right now. Especially not Rin. However, there was no stopping things now. His brain had already hopped onto that train, there was no turning back. Her image burned in his mind, the look on her face the day she died. The way she whispered his name, the tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. He had promised Obito he would protect her for him, and he failed. She had never done anything wrong. She even loved him. And he killed her.

What made him think he could do any better of a job protecting Rei? He had already failed just by ignoring her for so many years. Was it possible to make amends for that? To apologize for what he had done and begin caring for her again? He fell back into bed and rubbed his eyes. It was far too late to be thinking about such things. He needed sleep, but he knew try as he might it wasn’t going to come so easily now. His mind drifted to fifteen million different places, mostly all in the past. He thought of the day he met Obito and Rin, of his training alongside Minato-sensei. Of the time he invited the two of them for dinner and they swore his food tasted straight out of a restaurant. And then his mind hopped back to a hazy afternoon sitting beside Obito.

“Rin…I…I really like her!” Obito confessed dreamily. He watched her standing before a shop window below, examining some desserts.

“Why don’t you just tell her you like her then?” Kakashi asked.

“T-tell her?! I’m not ready yet!” Obito protested, sweat beading on his brow at the prospect. He watched Kakashi sort through his weapons, then added, “Besides, why should I take love advice from you? I never see you with a girlfriend!”

Kakashi remembered the way his heart leapt into his throat at the statement, the smirk that touched his lips beneath his mask. He dutifully tried to keep his home life and his work life separate, which meant Obito and Rin knew nothing about Rei. If they hadn’t lived in the same village and likely crossed paths unknowingly every now and again, they never would’ve known she even existed. Much like his friendship, he kept his reaction to Obito’s statement a secret. “Do I look like I’m looking for a girlfriend right now? I’m not the one whose lovestruck here. Anyways, there’s another reason you should tell her.”

Just then, Rin appeared, all smiles, carrying a basket of purchases. “Kakashi, there you are!” she exclaimed. “I bought you some special chocolates!”

Kakashi sighed, leaning his chin in his hand. “I know she’s ‘your’ girl, so I won’t steal her, but you really need to get the guts to tell her how you feel, or else this love triangle is never going to end.”

Rin slid in beside him and opened the basket to reveal the fat chocolate candies she brought for him. “I hope you like them! The shopkeeper said they were super delicious” she enthused.

It was always when he’d come home from a long day or a strenuous mission when he’d realize just how different Rei was from Rin. Rin was always doing nice things for him, proving her affection, and perhaps sometimes even trying too hard. With Rei, everything was natural. She never bothered trying to impress him. All she ever wanted was to hear about his day and everything he had learned in his training. She just wanted to spend time with him. But perhaps that was the way things were when you knew someone as long as they had. After all, Rei couldn’t even eat solid foods when he first met her.

He wondered how the time could’ve possibly passed by so quickly. When Kakashi thought about his past as a whole, he felt as if he had been alive forever. He had seen and done so much already. But when he thought about things in regards to Rei, it seemed like his childhood was just yesterday. He remembered the day they met clear as morning, the way he peered at her red, scrunched up face fascinated with how anything could ever be that tiny and fragile. How his very first instinct was “This girl needs to be protected,” and how he refused to even humor the notion of the responsibility belonging to anyone but him. Now, he wasn’t even sure how much she needed protection anymore. She had become a strong, accomplished young woman without any of his help. She was completely different, though yet somehow also exactly the same. Still gangly and hotheaded and messy, but now tough and capable and intelligent, as well. And she lived right down the hall.

He wondered if she had trouble sleeping, too, and for a split second even entertained the idea of knocking on her door to check. He quickly brushed that thought clearly out of his mind, however. That was ridiculous. He would not knock on her door. What if she was asleep? He would wake her up, and if there was one trait of hers that carried on into adulthood it was probably that she was cranky when tired. He couldn’t see that being something she would grow out of, no matter how common it is in children. Still, a part of him wished they had lived across the way from one another instead so he could simply just look out his window and immediately know whether she was awake or not by the presence or absence of a light. If only.

Eventually, Kakashi decided perhaps the best thing to do was to pick up a book. If it didn’t put him to sleep, at the very least it would get his mind off of everything. As he scanned the pages of Makeout Paradise, however, he realized this problem was rooted far deeper than he expected. That vision from the other morning, when Guy knocked on his door, was apparently still fresh in his mind because no matter what he did, he couldn’t stop picturing Rei as the female lead. He thought perhaps he could just suppress this, or that maybe it wasn’t quite so bad, until he reached one particular scene in which the main character arrives at her apartment and things get rather steamy. Kakashi blinked a few times, unable to get the image out of his head, then closed his book, buried his face in his pillow, and groaned loudly. This was pointless. He would never regain his sanity.

As the sun began to peek over the horizon, Kakashi decided to officially give up on sleep. He’d be exhausted, of course, but it wasn’t like he had navigated through his days sleepless before. He could hear the sounds of other ninja starting their day outside, slamming doors and soft chatter. Eventually he, too, would be forced to join them and in doing so, forced to see Rei again. He wasn’t sure if he could do it. He wasn’t sure if he could stand to face her. But then again, did he really have a choice?

Kakashi wasn’t sure if he believed in fate or not, but suddenly he began to wonder if this was all just the work of destiny. Logically, he knew this was merely just a testament to hard work and skill. Without those two accomplishments, Rei never would’ve made it this far. But he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe there was more to it than that. Maybe he was meant to be reunited with Rei. He had already lost so much, and the risk of getting attached only to lose again was horrifying, but he also knew deep down he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life alone. In the daylight, his feelings were growing clearer and he was starting to think that maybe he wasn’t so scared of them anymore. Rei must have reentered his life for a reason. In a way, this was potentially the perfect opportunity to make things right. There was something sorely lacking in his life and he was beginning to think Rei was the cure. Those feelings he had felt, he was slowly understanding what they were and it made his desire to pursue this all the more intense. He liked Rei. He cared for Rei. He had made a lot of mistakes in the past, but this was one thing he could not afford to screw up should he go for this. As he rose from bed and began preparing for the day, he knew right then and there that no matter what, he did not want to let her slip through his fingers.

#kakashi hatake #rei natsuki #the scarecrow and the bell #naruto #naruto oc #fanfiction #ramblings

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