Sunday, September 23, 2012

Soul Eater and Amara

This week has been a full one. Long work hours again. Another Massive Cleaning Day - as per usual with my lazy butt. FINALLY getting to those friggen wedding thank yous. Working on Amara's back story - which I'll get to in a moment. Watching my newest obsession - Soul Eater.

Yup, another anime has devoured my week.

Soul Eater is about three students at an academy run by Lord Death the Grim Reaper. The academy pairs up Magic Weapons - humans that have the ability to transform in to weapons - and Meisters - humans who can wield these weapons.

The seven main characters are:
Maka, the daughter of a powerful Meister and Lord Death's personal weapon Spirit the Death Scythe.
Soul Eater, Maka's partner - a Scythe.
Black Star, the last of a clan of assassins.
Tsubaki, Black Star's partner who can transform in to multiple ninja weapons as well as a katana.
Death The Kid, the son of Lord Death who has OCD and is obsessed with symmetry.
Liz and Patty, Kid's partners - "twin" pistols; they're really just sisters, Liz being the older one.

However, the one that I love the most is Crona!

Although even in the manga Crona's sex is still ambiguous, the anime seemed to imply that Crona is male, so I'm going to lean in that direction.

Anyway, Crona is the tragic, emotionally, physically, and mentally abused child of one of the villains of the series. He is the Meister of Ragnarok the Demon Sword, which was melted down in to Black Blood and then transfused in to Crona, therefore creating a symbiosis between Weapon and Meister.

Crona was never socialized and was routinely kept locked away in a room with just the bullying Ragnarok as company. Because of this Crona's catchphrase is "I don't know how to deal with... [insert situation here]." The way "he" says it in the anime is just too adorable! I just want to glomp "him" so badly! All "he" really needs is human compassion! Hubby better be warned that if I ever see a Crona cosplayer I just may glomp him/her...

Throughout the anime nearly every character has an "OMG, are they gonna die!?" moment. However, the only one that made me tense up and tear up a little bit was Crona's moment! I was huddled next to Hubby, clinging to the blanket with the hood of my sweatshirt pulled in tight. I was a mess!

I love nearly every character, and I was routinely heard saying "OMG, I heart [insert character name] so much!" However, Crona just tugged at my heartstrings. "His" speech patterns, mannerisms, tragic backstory, and gloomy disposition just make me love "him" the most out of the entire cast.



Moving on....

So, aside from grinding through insanely long Thank You letters - it's been about a year since the wedding, a simple "thanks for the toaster" won't suffice at this point - I've also spent my work breaks typing up Amara's backstory some more.

There's a key part of Amara's tragic life that cropped up over the last couple of months, so I need to calculate where it would fall in her timeline, how she reacted, and how extreme of an event it is.... I've gone through quite a lot of revisions over the past week. There may be some more this upcoming week. We'll have to see what Hubby thinks.

This would be a lot easier if my characters truly "talked" to me and I was truly just the medium between "them" and the page. I get the character's voice in my head, and when I start writing Amara's backstory - much like when working on my Hey Arnold chapters - the story tends to go in a completely different direction than I intend. That's the closest I get to having my characters "take control".

What I really need is for my characters to really "live" in my head like they do with Delaroux and DarkAngel1326. Both girls joke about how noisy it is in their heads because of all the chatter between characters. Here's a great example of what I mean via DA's one journal entry.

Granted, I get more peace my way, but the characters also take longer to develop. It's my analytical nature I guess. Everything has to be played out and properly calculated in my head before anything goes on paper. I check for continuity and realism. I never let things just "be".

I will give you the opening of Amara's tale, however. This part hasn't really changed much over the years. Her current part of her history is getting a great deal of detail, however, so perhaps I'll add more detail to Amara's childhood before I officially post.

Anyway, without further ado, Amara's heritage:
I came from a clan of gypsies. My father’s clan the Umâgo rode through the forests of Mesonía in the land of Gancrock. They would find a clearing and set up their camp of wagons, hunt for a season, pack up again, and follow migration. The gypsies were trackers and poachers by trade, but they did so respectively to Nature. They prayed before and after each hunt, and they would use every bit of the animal for both their own needs and for the goods they would sell. Never would they hunt to the point of endangering the species; for if the animals were gone, so too would be the gypsies’ way of life.

Nearby was an unknown clan of Elves; the Araphelium Tribe. They were the keepers of the Mesonía and they were untouched. They knew of the other races, of course, and they would feud with a Drow tribe every century or so, but they mostly stayed hidden and protected the forest. My mother was of this noble tribe that kept away from the N'Tel'Quess; those “not of the people”.

One day my father was separated from the hunting team. As he wandered through an unknown section of forest, he found my mother mending the injured leg of a fawn. My mother has such pale skin that the sun’s rays almost reflect off it. Her hair is a black so rich a clump of it could be mistaken for an onyx. Her hair was long and free then. As she knelt by the fawn, her hair kissed the ground. My father had to have her.

My mother heard his first step forward and stood straight and proud, shooing the fawn. She called out to my father and he stepped into the light. My father’s hair was tied into a ponytail and his beard was short and gruff. He was tall and strong. My mother could see his muscles through his tight shirt. When their eyes met my mother submitted. Without a second thought, my father walked up to her and kissed her.

For months throughout the hunting season, my parents would rendezvous in the same spot. When my mother became pregnant with me my parents decided to move in together. My father, however, refused to leave the gypsies.

The Umâgo had always preferred to remain separate from Gorgios (outsiders). They had little interaction with them except for trading purposes, or in extreme medical conditions in which the Umâgo were ill-equipped. “Gypsies with gypsies begetting gypsies,” they’d always say. Interbreed right up to the point of inbreeding, and then go find another nice gypsy clan and start over. However, even finding a “worthy” new tribe was a task for the Umâgo. Most other gypsies prided themselves in their frequent interactions with Gorgios, as well as their easy manipulation of them – giving all gypsies the bad name of “swindlers”. Because of this, the Umâgo considered themselves the most pure and superior in comparison to the other gypsies, and they would not yield to a lower standard.

All of this meant the adult gypsies were a bit uneasy to have a Gorgio living among them, let alone one that was now family. What my father did was beyond taboo, and as a result not only would I be the first half-human in my father’s clan, but I would also be the first half-gypsy.

Any thoughts? Like I said, I might add more to the story, but as of right now it's already six pages long and I'm not even done yet.

No comments:

Post a Comment