You know, I never figured this thing would last three years. But it's been a hell of a fun time and I'd like to thank you all for sharing this with me. Best readers ever :)
Anyway. I put this off to the last possible minute, but I managed to finalize it--what I'd say are the ten "best" posts at the present time. First off, a few nominees that didn't quite make it:
Okay, enough stalling :P Time for the posts that did make it...
For the most part--I don't know if it's my state of mind or what--we're quite tragedy-heavy here. Only two non-tragic posts made it, in fact... and actually, one of them is a comedic post with a certain "fridge horror" to it (fortunately, the other is a rare instance of functional romance).
August 31, 1169/October 9, 2010
He placed his hand on her side pulled her nearer. He was so warm--so near. It had been a long time since she'd been touched that way. She closed her eyes in brief contemplation, then reopened them and locked them with his. The shared gaze was painful in the most beautiful of ways. "I just want you to be happy."
He continued to stare--perhaps he'd had enough wine to slow his basic processing. "You're so beautiful."
"You're so drunk." It was a disappointment, but it was still a fact--he never would have said that sober.
As short and poorly-covered as it was, I kind of love the whole Severin/Nora story arc, and this here is its climax--the height of the storyline, that bitter moment just before everything is okay. Also, there's something unromantically romantic about a wine cellar encounter, particularly one that leads to a drunken elopement. Particularly if said drunken elopement pisses off Roderick to no avail.
February 20, 1167/June 2, 2010
Before Camaline could inquire as to what she meant, Aydelle's soft fingertips rested on the hinge of her jaw and slowly slid to her chin; they felt not like fingers that handled silk, but silk itself. "He usually touches you before he kisses you. Sometimes, he takes you by the chin and tilts your face upwards, since he's usually taller." Likewise, she nudged Camaline's ever gently; her almond eyes were even more exotic from the angle.
"And then he draws you just a little bit closer," she continued in barely more than a whisper. Camaline felt the distance between them decreasing, though she could not be sure that either of them had moved; perhaps this was how falling objects viewed the ground.
Camaline felt her spine tremble in anticipation; she'd had no idea how much she'd cared about kissing until just now. "And then?"
Aydelle pressed one silken finger to Camaline's lips. "Don't say anything."
She had been told that many times over the course of her life, but never before had she obeyed.
One of two non-tragic posts in this line-up. The thing I love about Camaline and Aydelle is that they work. They aren't supposed to be doing what they do and they know it... but for the most part, they don't let it bug them. They try to keep it hush-hush, but at the end of the day, they realize that they aren't the ones with the problem. It's everyone else who has the problem. And you know... I think they've had shades of that mentality since Day One.
March 14, 1171/December 24, 2010
"It's different for me, all right?" Different--now that it had been said, the word was free to dance in front of his eyes in flashing colors, more obnoxious every time he tried to look away. Searle didn't understand, and he never would. Searle had just come from a brothel; Searle liked chatting up maids and fucking them in broom cupboards. Sparron wasn't like that. Sparron was awkward and aloof and got about as much excitement from a girl as he might have from a loaf of bread. A couple times now he had tried hitting the sack with the maids, just to convince himself that there was nothing wrong with him, but he'd never achieved that reassurance; instead, he'd found he could only follow through if he pictured Searle's face the entire time.
His eyes wide and his mouth agape, Searle lowered himself to his knees and edged nearer. "It doesn't have to be."
But it did--it did and it was and he could never tell anyone. "Just go away."
"No." Searle placed his hands on Sparron's shoulders and inclined so that their heads met, the tip of his straight, perfect nose rubbing against the bridge of Sparron's own lumpy excuse for a facial feature. "Not until you're feeling better."
On the other side of the scale, we have Sparron--scared, unsure, self-loathing. If Naroni has a perfect tragic figure, it's Sparron, even if he does tend to grate the nerves on occasion. But you know... I think his POVs are some of the strongest pieces I've ever written. And I'll admit it--his and Searle's story is quite possibly my favorite arc, in spite of its melancholy nature. This isn't the starting point of their story, but it's certainly a major turning point; one of many in this case, and possibly the most important.
August 3, 1175/August 5, 2011
She couldn't remember the last time she'd fallen asleep without a bedtime chat with Isidro and she was old enough to realize that habits died hard. A little more playful than was usual for this hour, she nudged him with her foot. Nothing. She tried playing with his hair and poking him on the shoulder. Also nothing; this was proving rather frustrating. Determined, Riona began to work her way downward--tickling his underarm, pawing at his chest, pressing her thumb into the groove of his naval...
Isidro grunted. Caught off-guard, Riona pulled back her hand from the area she'd brushed. It... wasn't exactly an area she was used to touching. Even under the cover of the blankets it felt alien and awkward--and undeniably intriguing. She had to admit that her curiosity had been sparked. Maybe he'd like it? He was a man, after all. And besides, if nothing else had managed to wake him...
After a second's hesitation, Riona's fingers spidered back to the uncharted region and began to explore. She folded the blanket beneath and stroked the shaft's underside a couple of times, a quiet thrill rushing inward from her fingertips and almost releasing a giggle. Deciding to mix things up a bit, she wrapped her thumb and index finger around it and slid the resulting ring back and forth across its length, occasionally adjusting the pressure as cued by some instinct of which she'd always been oblivious. Her heart began to beat just a little bit faster and her motion changed speed to match it. It got to the point where she thought the blood would burst from her veins, leak from every orifice.
But she felt no desire to stop.
This is one of those posts that you really, really want to stop reading. First we have curious-yet-naive Riona fondling Isidro while he sleeps... and then we have Isidro flipping her over and Riona fears that she's about to be raped. Not pleasant subject matter. But there's something else going on here, I think--something neither Izzy nor Riona is aware of, but something that's there nonetheless. In spite of every ugly little thing that happens here, they ultimately respect each other too much to go through with it and end up calling it a night. Not something I'd recommend trying with anyone, but... I don't know. As dark as it is, there is a thin ray of light here.
December 10, 1156/March 8, 2009
"So, uh... nice place you've got here," he lied; he secretly thought it lacked a certain homeyness required of a dwelling, but it would probably be rude to tell her that.
The girl scowled. "Oh, don't talk!" she snapped. "Talk is just a waste of time. There are more important things."
Falidor raised an eyebrow. Needless to say, he was rather confused; maybe it was just the alcohol. "I suppose... wait, what--why--where'd your dress go?"
"It'll just get in the way," she answered; from what he could make out, there was a strange sort of smile on her face. "You'd better catch up."
"Catch up?" repeated Falidor.
He couldn't tell if she was amused or not--or even why she would be. "Don't be an ass. Take your clothes off."
"Uh... all right..."
He proceeded to strip down, then tossed his clothing to the side and gave her an expectant stare. "Now what?"
Now, we all know that this doesn't end happily, but... oh, Falidor! So hilarious in his virginal, slightly drunken cluelessness. Just... so... funny...
April 10, 1167/June 24, 2010
She struggled through the final degrees, but at last they were face to face. She looked as young as the night he had married her; she looked more alive than he felt. "You'll be fine. You always... were a fast learner."
Why was she so blasé about this? How had she managed to come to terms with it so quickly? She'd done in three days what he didn't think he could do in a lifetime. If anyone had ever said she wasn't the stronger of the two of them, they couldn't have been more wrong if they'd claimed that grass was red. "Princess..."
"Look, are you going to kiss me or not?"
He did. He kissed her for minutes, hours... he kissed her for longer than he could have kept track, longer than he ever had before. He didn't stop until it dawned on him that there was no longer anyone kissing him back.
If this was a Top Ten list for the ultimate tragic posts, this would take the cake. For the most part, we missed the development stages of the Severin/Alina relationship, but without it, there never would have been a Naroni--literally. And in a world plagued with the drama of the Rodericks and Genevas and the Octaviuses and Medeas, they were a breath of fresh air. They weren't without their troubles, but they always bounced back. It's the love that just wouldn't die, not even when she did.
May 1, 1174/May 22, 2011
This had been uncomfortable from the beginning, but it was crossing the line into the realm of the unbearable. Laralita tugged at her braid--something she'd never done in her life. "I never meant to leave you."
"But you did anyway."
The phrase was a door slammed shut in her face. She could try jiggling the handle, but she had a feeling it was locked from the other side. "Forgive me?"
Searle said nothing. Laralita wasn't a clever woman and she knew it, but the obvious answer hung in the silence and she couldn't have missed it. "You won't."
His lip curling inward, Searle turned away from her and stared into the imaginary depths of the dancing flames. "I can't."
Okay, I'll be the first to say it--of all my characters, Laralita was probably the last one I'd expect to ever have a POV in a Top Ten list. But there is so much going on in her relationship with Searle, so much unresolved tension that's been left to burn away and threatens to take them both with it. This post in particular stands out because... well, it's the first post where Laralita really seems like a person. Before Searle came into the picture, she was just this silly, over-the-top frivolous woman who waltzed into Naroni and ended up married to the king. Now, she's... well, she's got a past, a regret, a secret sorrow. Unlike most of Laralita's cares, those sure ain't little things.
April 14, 1168/August 9, 2010
"You're lonely, aren't you?" She looked into his eyes and offered what must have been meant as a sympathetic smile. He saw nothing but the smirk of a succubus. "You poor man. You feel like there's a part of you missing, don't you?"
Her presence had been magnified to the size of the room. He couldn't think. He couldn't breathe. Perhaps this was how it felt to be drowning, helpless and weak and overwhelmed by the aura of some Shadow Aphrodite. He dared not open his mouth to speak; he feared he would only drown faster.
And yet, she stared, waiting for his answer. He did not care to nod; he did not wish to admit that she was right, even if she already knew it. All he could offer was a non-committal shrug, but he knew she saw right through it. She'd always had the eyes of a goddess.
Unfazed by his resolute silence, she inched ever closer, until her face was mere inches from his own. If he'd had his wits about him, he might have backed away. "Oh, Severin... now you know how I feel all the time."
The thing about Severin is--no matter how nice he is--he's always trying. He's so self-conscious and metacognitive, and as a few characters have noted, it's a little suspicious. He's a good man, but deep down, he's afraid of something inside of him, something he buried long ago and doesn't want to see ever again. This post is where that thing surfaces. I wonder if Geneva ever suspected it was there; I'm guessing she didn't, or else she wouldn't have come.
February 21, 1172/February 6, 2011
Karlspan yawned; Searle kissed his brow, then turned back to Lorn. He looked so sentimental and starstruck that it might have been funny under lighter circumstances. "They show you things you used to love about yourself, and remind you why you loved them. They almost make you forget that someone once stopped loving you." His face was cast in a somber shadow as he finished with a bittersweet sigh. The baby looked up at him, as if worried that he had ceased to exist; Searle reassured him with a squeeze. "Might I give you some advice, Lorn?"
Of everyone he knew, Searle might have been the last person Lorn would have thought to take advice from, but he was past the point where he could afford to be picky; he pulled himself out of his slouch and nodded.
"Tell them you love them." He rested his head against his son's as the little boy began to play with his hair. "Your children, your wife... all of them. Tell them you love them whenever you can. Tell them in private, tell them in public, tell them so damn often that they get sick of hearing it. Never miss a chance to say it. Life is short and cruel and unpredictable. You don't want to leave it thinking you didn't love quite enough."
For all we almost never see them together, I find the dynamic between Lorn and Searle rather fascinating. They're such total opposites and it's obvious that they don't care much for each other, but all the same, there's a certain respect there. I think Searle sees Lorn as a protege of sorts while Lorn can't help but marvel at Searle's competence. In some ways, each is all the other ever wanted to be... not that either of them would ever admit it. But you know, it does lead to some profound exchanges.
Aaaaaand now, the top-ranking post of Naroni's first three years is...
January 3, 1174/April 30, 2011
"Look, Searle... I'm sorry, alright? I was sinking and I shouldn't have pulled you down with me."
Poor boy just looked confused. As if he wasn't confused enough. As if Sparron himself wasn't the root cause of all that. "What are you talking about?"
"Everything." Biting his lip, he let go of Searle's hand and eased himself onto the bed behind him, curling into a fetal position. He'd given up on things ever getting better for him, but maybe there was still hope for Searle. "I don't want to hurt you any more than I already have. I'm ending this--for real this time. You'll be better off."
Searle's eyebrows drooped to a gentle slope. It must have been agony to have one's heart handed back in pieces, but it was better this way. Sparron couldn't break it any further if it was no longer in his hands. Maybe Arletta could put it back together. "Sparron..."
"Don't." His heart raced and his arm pulsed. He ran his free hand along the site of the stitches, expecting to find blood, almost disappointed when he didn't. "Go home to your wife, Searle. You can still be happy. It's not too late for you."
He hated to see Searle so crestfallen, but it had been necessary. He was weak and damned and the only thing he could do was save this beautiful boy from his toxic love. Searle would thank him some day. "What are you waiting for? Go."
Hey, I already admitted that they were my favorite. This post in particular has a certain bittersweetness to it, a mix of the said and the unsaid that won the top spot for it. Sparron and Searle have been going back and forth for a while by this point--and will be going back and forth for a long time after--but this is where they catch each other off-guard, right when Searle barges in and demands to know what Sparron was thinking when he tried to kill himself. Pen summed it up quite nicely in the comments. Sparron is stunned by Searle's guilt over the suicide attempt and Searle in turn is shocked that Sparron considers himself such a horrible person. Both of them are thrown for a real loop here, a loop that helped in the short term. Long term? Not so much. But at least--for once--they could put aside all the misery and have a moment of pure mutual compassion, understanding.
And that concludes the list! :)
Anyway, this is all just my opinion, so feel free to argue to your hearts' content should you feel so inclined. Needless to say that with nearly five hundred posts now, I'm curious as to which ones made an impact ;)
Your choice number 5 is my favorite, if I can use that word to describe something so hauntingly sad. That final paragraph is breathtakingly beautiful and terrifying.
ReplyDeleteThank you for doing this. I am awed and humbled and very grateful that you not only take the time to write, but that you take the time to share what you write.
Don't stop.
Thanks, Beth. That means a lot coming from you :)
ReplyDelete#5 very nearly placed higher. Once I had the top ten picked, it was difficult to put them in order. It ultimately came down to the quality of the writing.
Awesome! Thanks for this. It reminded me of some great Naroni moments. XD I was surprised that "In Which Severin Is Pushed..." made the running but glancing at the chapter and remembering the plot made me giggle-snort. I think my favorites are scattered throughout both the runner-up list and the official authorial top 10. "In Which Sparron Presents The Pieces" was definitely a heartbreaking chapter. Then "In Which Aldhein Scares Himself" and "In Which Florian's Reputation Is Saved" are total favorites of mine. Also, "In Which Camaline Justifies It As Practice". Dude, you picked some sad chapters for your top 10!
ReplyDeleteHAPPY NARONIVERSARY, VAN!!! WOOOOOOOooooOOooooo!!!
OMG could you do these every year?? I know it's a lot of work... :\
Glad you enjoyed, Pen :)
ReplyDelete"In Which Severin Is Pushed to His Breaking Point" got a consideration as one of the classic early-Naroni comic posts. Same sort of thing with "In Which Florian's Reputation Is Saved" and "In Which Falidor Meets Man's Greatest Fear".
The sad ones did tend to take over, though... probably because most of them are more recent and the quality of writing is considerably better (at least, as far as I can tell).
Oh, man... I guess we'll have to see about making this an annual thing :S It would be interesting to see how much it changes from year to year, though...
I've got to agree with S.B. #5 was my favorite too. :) 3 years, really? WOW!!! Congratz on that! It's amazing for an amazing writer and story.
ReplyDeleteThanks MDP. That's definitely a compliment coming from you :)
ReplyDelete#5 was a pivotal post, for sure. Quite possibly the "turning point" of the whole story in some ways.