What was I thinking doing DreamWalkers for NaNoWriMo?

Gah, anyway, here is new snippet.

Medea saw Elena eyed her from the corner of her room and ignored her. Elena was not only territorial, she was also protective, it was better if she avoided any confrontation with her. Or with anyone.

"Be careful with him."

Medea sighed. "Firdaus is a magic user and knows how to break my bones in 347 different ways. I think he'll be safe from me."

"That's not what I mean."

Medea kept her head down as she tied her shoes and didn't say anything more in the hopes that Elena would move along.

"I mean you should be careful around him."

At that Medea lifted her head to stare at Elena whose hands were mighty close to her revolver. "Are you saying he might hurt me?"

"Of course not. Yes. No." Elena sighed and crossed her ankles, her shoulders slumping. "Not in the way you're thinking, he's...he's a half-ling, Medea."

Medea's eyebrows lifted. "Wow, would never peg your for a speciest, El."

"Don't call me El, and you know I didn't mean it that way."

"No, I don't." Medea pushed the last stack of T shirts into her backpack and stood. "You're the one who lobbied for him to be my Champion and now you're saying I'm not safe with him."

"You'll be safe in all the way that matters, he will guard you with his last breath but the fact that he is a half-ling, that he is part Sidhe makes things complicated."

"I know all the stories Elena, I know how dangerous the Fae are."

"No, you really don't." She straightened from the wall and looked down on me from her height. "Most of the Fae like the Kelpie, the will 'o wisp, even Rumplestilskin they want a specific thing from you: your life, your first born child, whatever, but the Sidhe are different. The Sidhe would take your most intimate, most cherished secret desire and twist it until you don't recognize what you've become. With most of the Fae the worst it can get is that you die, but the Sidhe won't kill you," she said as she holstered her weapon with a firm and steady hand. Her green eyes vivid against the fairness of her skin. "They will unmake you."

Copyright © 2013 by D.F. Jules,

Art from Chin Cheng Low: Elena

Art from Chin Cheng Low

CC was trying out a new style, this is Yohan. 

I dig it. I really do. 

Art from Chin Cheng Low

The Snow Queen and The Summer Queen

Medea with her glasses her books and her music.

Sen, the traditionalist, the steady yet frazzled leader

Snippet #4

Yohan's musical talent was undeniable; a cello prodigy and his ability to write songs on the fly was nothing to sneeze at either, but it was his singing voice--only a few people knew he could actually sing--that drew her to him. A richly layered tenor, his voice conveyed emotion like no singer she had ever known. From the golden gleam of joy, to the deadly sting of heartache, to simmering bitterness, the explosion of rage, and the ecstasy of grief.

Medea settled down on her usual cushion, closed her eyes and listened as he played and sang his newest song.  Listening to his voice, one would be reminded that music was, and still is, an act of worship. That from ancient times to the present, people raise their voices to the heavens in prayer, in hope and in love. 

Yes, he was that good.

She often wondered why he had never accepted any offer for a singing album, he seemed satisfied with making music with his cello, playing at intimate yet high-end venues (and making obscene amounts of money as he does) and simply puttering around in his small makeshift studio by himself. In the dark. Like always.

She could tell that he loved singing, it was obvious from the way his voice blended into the air, how his face shifted into an expression of delight that she would never understand, from the way his mouth formed the words; as if words and melody existed only for him to mold and wield and shape to his will. 

Maybe that was why, she thought. He loved singing so much that he didn't want to share it with the rest of the world. That he wanted this one love for himself.

And for her, of course. 

It was selfish of her but she couldn't deny that she was pleased with how he kept his ability to sing to himself, limiting the knowledge to her and a few other people. She cherished moments like this, where she could sit with him in the dark and just listen. To let the images inside her head, images that blossomed inside her mind because of his music, and be quiet, be still. At peace.

Sometimes, in her darker days, she thought that it was the only thing that kept her sane.

Copyright © 2013 by D.F. Jules

Snippet #3

Medea didn't know why she was staring at him, there was absolutely nothing special about him. Perhaps that was why she was so interested in...she didn't know his name. She figured that wasn't so weird, she bet she didn't know most of the kids in her class considering she's anti-social that way, but there was something about the boy--

He sat back and rolled his shoulders, his fingers took a pen from his table and whirled it between his fingers in a gesture that was famili--Medea gasped, flashes of images flitted through her brain and jolted her from her seat. She knocked over the stack of books she had on her table and they hit the floor with a loud thump. Voices quieted down and every head turned to look at her. Usually this would disturb her but her eyes were focused on his hunched broad shoulders, as if he knew she was looking at him, as if he was expecting her to recognize him. 

After a beat, he turned and Medea met his eyes--the color of lush green hills in sunlight--and a face that angels would weep over. He stared back at her and then flicked his eyes to the rest of the class. She blinked and just realized the attention she was getting. 

"Is there a problem, Miss Mimpi?"

Medea tore her eyes away from the boy--the boy in her dream--and shook her head. "Nothing ma'am. I thought...I saw a roach." 

The boy lifted and eyebrow, one corner of his lips tilting up as the rest of the class exploded with disgust. 

Copyright © 2013 by D.F. Jules

Snippet #2

Medea turned and stared at Elena. "What do you mean?"

Elena flicked her heavy braid over her shoulder. "We used to be magic users, then we became warriors. Now, now we're bureaucrats and politicians."

"That bad?"

Elena grinned. "Well, not so much for us, we have Firdaus."

Medea blinked and slid a look at Firdaus who seemed to be in a conversation with something that she couldn't see. Like, literally, couldn't see. She glanced back at Elena with a disbelieving look. She took one look at the expression on her face and laughed. 

"No, really." Elena assured her. "The Senate try to maneuver, or manipulate or try to trap us into--" She shrugged. "But Firdaus grew up in the Sidhe court and compared to the Fae, those old, fat, scheming geezers are harmless. Firdaus can and have run circles around them, nobody beats the Fae in manipulation and cunning. He wraps them around his fingers and play them like puppets."

Medea didn't look back at Firdaus although she could feel him looking at them; she could feel his stare at the back of her head and it raised the soft hairs on the nape of her neck. She didn't comment either but tucked away that little tidbit into a pocket inside her mind. 

Copyright © 2013 by D.F. Jules

Snippet #1

Her head was killing her. And her butt was wet.

Surely, a dream shouldn't hurt this bad?

Medea opened her eyes and for a second she couldn't see a thing. Then a spark flitted from her left before hovering on her right. It was a tiny figure with wings fluttering behind its body. "That's gonna leave a mark."

Another face popped out at her left. Medea tried to focus her eyes on the person, from the blurry shape of him, it was a guy. A strangely familiar guy. "Great," she slurred, "I'm saved by Peter Pan and Tinkerbell."

Copyright © 2013 by D.F. Jules

DreamWalker's OST: Ellie Goulding's Halcyon

Like all of my writing efforts, there's always a playlist involved. And this time, I found the perfect album to accompany my writing of DreamWalkers. Ellie Goulding has always a dream-like, fantasy quality to her songs and voice and this album is no exception. It fits perfectly for the book either for Medea's POV, to her relationships with the DreamWalkers and Yohan. Not to mention the song 'Stay Awake' is like a song that tells the story of the DW letting Medea tag along. Certain songs like My Blood, Dead in the Water, Ritual, and The Ending is very much a description about her relationships with Yohan and Firdaus. 

My Blood

The lost dreams are burried in my sleep for him

And this was the ecstacy of a love forgotten

And I'm thrown in the gunfire of empty bullets

And my blood is all I see

As you steal my soul from me

Stay Awake

Take my fate in your hands,

We've got a lot that hasn’t even began

Something is calling us,

We’re breaking free,

I’m curious,

I need to see.

Like a flash before our eyes,

We're already into the night,

And if it feels like we’re dreaming,

Believe it, believe it.

We don't have to wait 'til the morning,

The sun will never go down.

And we’ll be this way forever,

We've got to take it now,

Just stay awake, stay awake,

You can follow us to paradise,

Just stay awake, stay awake.

Bring me down, side by side,

While our reflections make our bodies collide.

So full of energy, nothing to hide,

No need to sleep, we come alive,

And if we’re gonna take this ride,

We can go wherever we like

And if it feels like we’re dreaming,

Believe it, believe it.

We don't have to wait 'til the morning,

The sun will never go down.

And we’ll be this way forever,

We've got to take it now,

Just stay awake, stay awake,

You can follow us to paradise,

Just stay awake, stay awake.

Believe it.

Take my fate in your hands,

We've got a lot that hasn't even began

Something is calling us,

We’re breaking free,

I’m curious,

I need to see.

We're going on a journey

It was over like a flash before our eyes

We're going on a journey

It was over like a flash before our eyes

We're already into the night

Like a flash before our eyes,

We're already into the night,

And if it feels like we’re dreaming,

Believe it, believe it.

We don't have to wait 'til the morning,

The sun will never go down.

And we’ll be this way forever,

We've got to take it now,

Just stay awake, stay awake,

You can follow us to paradise,

Just stay awake, stay awake.

Dead in the Water

If I was not myself

And you were someone else

I'd say so much to you

And I would tell the truth

'Cause I can hardly breathe

When your hands let go of me

The ice is thinning out

And my feet brace themselves

I'm there in the water

Still looking for ya

I'm there in the water

Can't you see, can't you see?

Ritual

We’re right into a place of fire 

We hold our heads up high tonight 

And we breathe the smoke of fear we owe 

We let our hearts upside tonight 

But in my scarred skin cause I know I’ve sinned 

And it plagued the air on my house Ruben 

There’s a sound of him in the darkest words 

And I know my own fears, I understand 

It’s a ritual, I know you feel it 

It’s a ritual, I know you’ve seen it 

It’s a ritual, I know you feel it 

You feel it, you feel it, you feel it

The Ending

I think I’ve been praying

The lights won’t go out

My blood is getting colder

As I follow this road down

If you lock me out... (There won’t be anything to hold)

If you lock me out... (There won’t be anything to hold on to)

If you lock me out... (There won’t be anyone in the end)

If you lock me out... (There won’t be anyone in the ending)

Explosions

You left my soul bleeding in the dark

So you could be king

The rules you set are still untold to me and I lost my faith in everything

The nights you could cope, your intentions were gold

But the mountains will shake

I need to know I can still make

And as the floods move in

And your body starts to sink

I was the last thing on your mind

I know you better than you think

'Cause it's simple darling, I gave you a warning

Now everything you own is falling from the sky in pieces

So watch them fall with you, in slow motion

I pray that you will find peace of mind

And I'll find you another time

I'll love you, another time

Hanging On

You know we can get away

Because I'm calling your name

Every day I feel this pain

But you just turn and walk away

Chapter 0

Medea dreamt of running. 

This wasn't anything strange because running just happened to be one of her most favorite activities; not as a sport, but more like her way of meditating. When she was running, everything in the world faded away until all that was left was her and the thump of her shoes against the asphalt. 

And it usually always burn away the nightmares. 

Usually. 

She thought this was going to be one of her usual nightmares, but no, there was something different. 

At first, she wasn't worried, she was a lucid dreamer, she had always known when she was dreaming, so she just let everything go and roll with it, but then the feeling came; a deep, gut-wrenching fear that propelled her feet to run. 

Her dreams were usually vivid, but this one felt unnaturally real. She could feel the dampness of the earth between her toes, could smell the crushed greenery under her feet. She felt the bracing cold air slapping against her face.

And most of all, the slithering silence of whatever it was that was chasing her.

She didn't know why she was running, it was a dream. She only needed to wake up or wait until her parents woke her up because her real life self must be screaming her head off--yes, that happened often.

Medea hissed at the pain on her sides--again, the pain felt real--and snarled at it in defiance. Again she felt rather than heard its approach, and picked up her pace.

Something howled at her left and her blood curdled at the sound, spurring her feet to go faster. She flew between the long lines of trees, her feet barely touched the ground.

She swallowed and forced herself to breathe through her nose. Anything to stop from panicking.

She pushed herself harder, her lungs screamed and her muscles burned. She ran out of the lines of dense trees and plunge into a wide savanna filled with white flowers; they glowed in the moonlight. Up above the stars glowed pink within a rainbow of clouds but she couldn't enjoy its beauty because she was too busy running for her life. 

Or at least, it felt like she was.

She didn't know what was after her, but she could feel it behind her; its demand and hunger. 

She didn't look back, she never looked back as a rule, and this was no exception.

The rows of cotton began to slither all around her and up above the moon broke open and shadows flitted across the sky.

The stars exploded, the sky twisted and the ground fell apart underneath her feet.

Medea screamed as she fell.

Copyright © 2013 by D.F. Jules

Artwork!

So, this one of the first efforts of Chin Cheng Low's artwork for DreamWalkers. She's working on a back version of this one which is more serious and with not so many colors. It is meant to be the cover for the book. 

We've discussed how the characters look, act, the uniforms, the weapons, the dreamscapes that would be their very own character and specific details about the story that she would need to know in order to create the artwork.

She's also being an excellent soundboard. 

She found this very distinct style of flow and colors that I liked to incorporate into the artwork. 

Weapons

Firdaus

The French Rapier

Being raised by the Sidhe leaves its marks on you, literally and figuratively. When in the dreamscapes, imagination is not enough when it comes to fighting, imagination has to be helped with instinct and practice and knowledge, you have to understand and know how to use your weapon so it would come as second nature to you, that you no longer have to think about it. The more sure you are of your creation; the structure and the weight and the use, the stronger it is. Since Firdaus had been trained in the art of sword fighting--which is considered by the Sidhe as an elegant and refine exercise--it was not a surprise that it became his first weapon of choice.

Elena

.44 Colt revolver

Elena's revolvers came from her father's love of revolvers and old black and white action movies. Trained how to shoot at the early age of six, she was a natural marksman in both guns and wit. Again, since she has a knowledge of revolvers, the fact that the revolver becomes her weapon is not a surprise. But rather than the more modern revolvers, she chooses the antique .44 colt revolver. She has two stash on her hips inside her glittery red thigh rig holsters. Hey, a girl's gotta have her bling. 

Sen

Yumi (the Japanese Long Bow) and Wakizashi (Japanese short sword)

Same goes with Sen who studies Kyudo and Kendo under the tutelage of his Japanese grandmother, one of the most successful DreamWalkers in the history of DreamWalkers. She is strict with his training but that is what makes him such a grounded and level-headed DreamWalker unlike his two teammates. Although he is also good with a sword and often sparred with Firdaus, he leans more towards the Japanese long bow in both weapon and philosophy. But for close-quartered combat, he uses the wakizashi. 

Uniform

Every DreamWalker unit has a different color, for Firdaus's team, codename: Morpheus, is dark grey with black slashes. But even within the team, the uniform is customize to each person out of necessity and preference.

For instance, whereas Firdaus prefers his coat long, Elena prefer hers to be waist length so she could go to her guns quicker. Sen, prefers his not to have sleeves so it wouldn't hinder him when he's using his bow.

And each also have their own gauntlets and boots, mirroring their own tastes and necessity. Their uniform is spelled to act as armor to withstand any wayward Fae's offense both physical and magical.

Copyright © 2013 by Ju-C

Introducing New Novel: DreamWalkers

DreamWalkers is one of my ideas that hasn't seen the light of day yet because of the concept. It is a novel that relies heavily on imagery so I want to get the help of a graphic artist. It wasn't until a couple of weeks ago that I found one. In CC I think I found a sort of artistic-twin, it's not necessarily her skill (though she has that) but more of her vision that made me gravitate to her. She had made an amazing artwork for my debut novel Touched: The Sword and when I ask if she wanted to work on a project with me, she said yes. 

I hope she won't regret it.

Anyway, here's the run down.

In DreamWalkers, everything that is magic comes from the Fae (yes, I know. Finally a Fae novel. Me! Now, for those who don't know me, wouldn't know how weird this is. Those who do, knows how much the Fae freaks me out) who in turn gets their magic from nature.

But humans do what they do best adapt and invent and build and destroy. With nature dwindling fast, the Fae is threaten and with the Fae, magic. So a group of magic users made a deal with the Fae, that they will create a world for the Fae, but they would still keep their magic. 

The deal is made and the magic users conjured a space for the Fae and all creatures of magic to live in, a place where there would always be magic: in our dreams. 

The magic users carved a small space in all our dreams where the Fae can live and love and whatever, but they can never stay in one dreamscape for long for it will weaken the human; creating nightmares and night-terrors. But the Fae are the Fae and they do what they do best: swindle and trickery. 

So, a small part of the magic users formed a sort of Dream Police and called themselves DreamWalkers; humans who can insert themselves into dreams and patrol dreamscape after dreamscape, either ushering the Fae along and kicking ass when they need too.

DreamWalkers can only bring themselves (and clothes) into the dreams, so whatever weapons that have, they have to create it with their imagination. It is a skill that takes discipline, creativity and intense focus; imagining losing focus when you're in a fight with one of the Fae, resulting in losing your weapon, and possibly your life.

When they walk into a dream, they do really walk into a dream, it's not just their spirit but their corporeal self walking inside someone's dream, so if you are injured inside a dream, or Morpheus forbid, die, then you'd be wounded and dead in real life. 

Like the Fae, their power comes from nature so a DW usually lives beside a dense forest or at the least a garden to re-charge. 

A Walk is closely monitored, not unlike policemen doing patrols, they have shifts and dispatchers and etc.

Sadly, in exchange for their power, the DreamWalkers cannot dream themselves, so the younger generation often claims one dreamscape as their own.

I am going to start writing this novel along with me writing the sequel to my debut novel: The Sword for JanNaWriMo.

This is all I can share for today so...I hope you like it. 

Next: Dreamcasts and Characters

Copyright © 2013 by D.F. Jules