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About Varied / Student Jenny16/Female/United States Groups :iconphantasmagoriafans: PhantasmagoriaFans
"One may smile and be a villain"
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While revising Phantasmagoria and writing its sequel, Vertigo, I've encountered some ideas that I'd like some feedback on.

• For starters, I'm thinking about giving Branwell (the main antagonist, but dies before the start of the first book) schizophrenia. I'm thinking that this disorder will give him cause to act the way he does, as opposed to running off the pure hatred and betrayal he feels toward Anne and Silas (Ophelia's grandparents). If any of you have experience with schizophrenia, I'm all-ears/eyes to help on the subject; I want to portray it as accurately as possible. 

• I'm considering publishing some short stories, or offering snippets of the book for free for a period of time to help gain followers for the story: keep the idea or let it drop?

• I'm also thinking of having Ophelia become engaged to Luke, a long-time friend, in Vertigo. Yay or nay? I've written a little rough draft for the scene (which would end up being the finale for the first act of the second book). Here it is:

    The lights blaze; my breath withers. The room, half thrown in shadow, causes my heart to leap. My eyes jump across the table, noting the people lined there like soldiers-- four, six, eight, ten of them--my mother resides at the peak of the table. In another whoosh of breath, I clutch the edge of the table as the gaslights whirl and tumble. The glare of the candle catches on the rim of the wineglass, blinding me, pardoning my view of Raife and Violet from across the way.
    At my flank, Luke is glancing across the table at my mother; as the chandelier sways and creaks, the light floods my vision again, so brilliant and white that I only catch a glimpse of her nod, her pursed lips and crinkling eyes.
    There’s a pause. The noise of the dinner lofts above and swallows the silence.
    “Ophelia?” I hear Luke whisper from my left. “Ophelia, there’s something that I must say to you…” His chair grates against the parquet as he slides from the table. He catches my hand, encases it in his own. I can feel the pulse, the rush and recede of blood, from his wrist as he stoops low.
I crane my neck, then my entire torso, so that I’m facing him.
    His eyes locked to mine, he begins to lower himself to the floor. He’s kneeling. Before me. Before Raife. Before the entire world.
    Instinctively, I rise as my stomach plummets, and it feels as if I’m back on the ship: careening, lurching, not quite there. My hand twitches as I try to lurch away, but Luke’s hand fastens like the suckle of a leech. His brown eyes glisten in the flashing light--a light now that I’m certain only I can comprehend.
“Ophelia,” Luke’s voice strains over my name. He clears his throat, and a certain clarity bounces across his irises. “My Lia. I have witnessed you for the past six years grow from a girl of fragility to a young woman of strength…” his fingers dip into the pocket of his dinner jacket, the ghost of his hand shaking and a little mad. He draws his fist out of the pocket, his right hand never once wavering from my own. “And in you, I have discovered my own urge: to protect, to safeguard, and to heal your wounds.” He unsheathes his grip from mine and cracks open the tiny box. “Ophelia Ravenwood, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
A collective gasp swells the room. I hear chairs shuffle, throats clear, and whispers undulate. “How alarming!” they hiss to one another. “How curious and odd!”
My eyes dart to Raife, whose face is impercitable behind a guise of white light. Violet’s hand snakes around her fiance’s, and their long, unblemished fingers wedge together like a puzzle. So perfect and planned.
    I crane my neck toward Luke, whose vacant hand has come up to grip my own as if it’s a life preserver. His eyes clench; my stomach unwinds.  The diamond of Luke’s ring, nestled among a square of blue velvet, bursts a million-color flame. As I look upon him, the boy that I’ve known for more than half of my life, the welkin clears and my mind slips into beautiful coherence.
    I know what must be done.
    The chandelier sways in a slow and rhythmic arc, tossing the light away from Raife. My eyes find his, and a vindictive smile curls across my lips. And while the entire world looks on, I part my mouth to seal my fate. “Yes.”

Thanks for the feedback, all!

  • Mood: Stumped

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Gnewi Featured By Owner Jun 13, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you so much for the fav! :heart:
djeffers Featured By Owner Jun 4, 2015  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Thanks a ton for the fave and watch! Much appreciated! Hug 
Kittylyn-Donut Featured By Owner May 9, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
thanks for the fave! :iconbegplz:
Micha-vom-Wald Featured By Owner Apr 17, 2015
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GreaseZelda Featured By Owner Mar 17, 2015  Student Filmographer
Thanks for the fave, darling! :hug:
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