Writer's block

[zana]

Zana glared down at the empty page and tried to force her mind to form a coherent paragraph, but the words refused to flow as they usually did. Not only words, but also images, which were usually in her mind before she even started writing. She felt frustrated. Sure, she had suffered writer’s block before, both in this life and her previous, but as far as she could remember, never this bad…it felt like the best part of her, her ability to write and create worlds and stories that thrilled her imagination and made her feel proud of herself, had been taken.

Before, it felt a lot easier to form mental images. She remembered that it was as easy and natural as breathing, to express herself through her writing. All of those poems she had written, and her acclaimed Wuthering Heights…and now she couldn’t even think of a proper title, plot or anything. It was annoying…to say the least. No. Annoying was not the right word. It didn’t even cover it. She had never been good at talking with people—except for her family, and writing had been her one way to spill out her thoughts and feelings. If she couldn’t write, it would be as thought her only mean to communicate had vanished, faded like the sunlight fades slowly as the day ends.

With a deep sigh, she let her eyes wander toward the trees, the sky, the clouds, and just the beauty of nature, relieving on the silence that was every now and then broken by a bird’s singing or the faint rustle of leaves. It was comforting. She made a mental note to come here to write more often, as the place would probably be deserted. That, and the fact that Zana was not good with socializing. More than once, her classmates in middle school had complained because she never talked and they often ended up monopolizing the conversation. Some other times she had unintentionally ended the conversation turning her back on whoever was talking to her, and been scolded for such behavior. It wasn’t that she was attempting to be rude…it was just her, and she couldn’t change that, despite her many failed attempts in the past.

Slowly, silently, she broke her reverie to look down at her notebook once more and try to write something. Nothing. “Shoot,” she mumbled with an angry frown. Instead of trying any harder, she just shoved her notebook back into her backpack and decided to take a small walk. After all, it had been a very long day, she was exhausted…perhaps all she needed was a little break. She sighed and started wandering quietly, with a small smile on her face as the sunlight hit her face and made her golden curls of hair shine like they had their own light.

words: 471
tag: mandee/oliver
notes: Ah, I'm SO not good at writing long posts....Dx

[Oliver Lee Winchester]

Being in the RSOR was harder work than Oliver had originally bargained for. However, he did not regret it for a minute.

It did feel strange, though, lording this secret over the others in the school. He could be himself, his true self around those who were in the RSOR, a very liberating feeling. However, he had to make sure that he didn't behave in so odd a way around people who weren't in the RSOR. It was still a challenge, especially since for the first eleven years of his life he hadn't really thought that anything was odd about him, other than possibly being adopted.

The truth, that he was a reincarnate, was far odder than even that, and yet he could only tell a select few. He'd only met a select few other reincarnates, for that matter. Isabella, formerly Joan of Arc...she was rather nice, although she had a high temper and had threatened to hit him on more than one occasion (to be fair, he had called her shortstop, but he hardly saw that as being worthy of violence...ahem). His science partner and good friend, Kimaya Waldor, was almost certainly Anne Frank. He'd also met a few other reincarnates in the RSOR headquarters.

Still no sign of Wilbur yet, and that frustrated him.

Oliver kicked a rock as he meandered through the grounds. Isabella's words came back to him. There was a chance that Wilbur's reincarnation could be much older or younger than him, and a chance that he might not come across his former brother at all. Oliver hated to think about that, but the more he searched and the more his searches turned up empty, the more he had to think that Isabella's assumption might very well be true. Then again, there was also the chance that they'd skipped over him, or that perhaps he would join the school within the next couple of years if not...he wasn't going to give up hope. Being pessimistic was never his style. Nearly giving himself away, however, seemed to be, unfortunately.

The teen took the RSOR very seriously as well. He was no RSOR official, but he was keeping his eyes peeled for anyone who behaved oddly. He did not know any of the other leaders as of yet, so if he came across anyone who seemed suspicious, he would inform Isabella. This already bore fruit with Kimaya, whom the two had determined was almost positively Anne Frank, but thus far Kimaya was Oliver's only discovery - and he had a feeling that that was only because the two had grown close due to their partnership in science class.

It was nice to get a bit of fresh air, though Oliver wished he could have been doing a bit more out in the brilliant sunlight. Spending time with Kimaya out in the sun making paper airplanes had been a blast. Unfortunately, he had not brought out anything of his little devices to test this time around. He did have his sketchbook with him, but that was simply a given. He had a good memory and eye for detail, but sometimes it helped to jot things down. He tried his best to make sure that no one saw what he was doing, however, especially now that had the secrets of the RSOR to keep. Thus far, Kimaya had truly been the only other person to see, and in the end, this likely worked out for the best, as it helped to convince her that she was not alone in her oddities.

As Oliver continued walking, he came across another freshman girl who he recalled from a class or two. A small smile came across his face. Reincarnation or not, it was worth making contact at least. "Hi there, I'm Or...Oliver."[/color] Oliver was happy for his quick save, although he felt like kicking himself for almost introducing himself by his past name. At least, though, in his case, his names were similar enough that they could hopefully be explained away by a simple mispronunciation or spelling. It was a bit different with Isabella and Joan, or Kimaya and Anne.

Word count: 656
To: Abi/Zana
Notes: Woot!

[zana]

The little blonde sighed with a smile, she felt relaxed and calm. Perhaps she could go back to work now. Her mind felt clearer, her senses sharper, and she felt…strangely optimistic. Maybe she did need a little break…

She noticed, a little too late, that Oliver was talking to her, but when she did notice, she blushed—a deep red tint spread across her cheeks, contrasting greatly with her snowy white skin. Oh, why did people have to talk to her?! Stupid social customs. What a pain. “H-hello…my name is Zana…”she answered back, shyly, quietly, and maybe too formally. That was sure to raise suspicions. Who spoke formally in these days? “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I actually talk like this all the time, since I used to… I’m a…going to be a writer…”she explained with an uneasy smile. Inwardly, she would have liked to shoot herself for being so stupid. She couldn’t believe that she nearly said she used to be a writer…nobody in their right minds would ever believe that. Why, a fifteen year-old, a writer! Aspiring writer, maybe, but nobody would actually believe she was a professional writer…in this life. But she wasn’t about to say that, right? No, of course of not.

She couldn´t help it and attempted to run away, but failed miserably, and ended up involving herself in conversation again. “P-please don’t misunderstand me…”she begged. “I’m just not very good to talk to strangers…or people, in general, I’ve never been…now…or ever…I’m sorry,” she ended up saying. She groaned.

Once, a long time ago, she had heard that some writers had depended completely on their writing to communicate, because their vocabulary was awful, or just because, like her, they weren’t good at talking. Zana envied other writers, like Wilde, whose written and spoken speeches had been wonderful and memorable. It was horrible, to resort to paper when she couldn’t get her thoughts in order. The idea was strange…speaking and listening were like twins, they couldn’t be separated, and from what she had learned, if you were a good listener, you could talk well. Then why couldn’t she form a coherent sentence when people talked to her, if she considered herself a good listener? Maybe there was something wrong with her…or maybe she wasn’t as much of a good listener as she thought she was. That was a blow. So she wasn’t a good listener? What a disappointment…it wasn’t like she wasn’t used to being told, ‘Zana, you’re a terrible listener’, her little brother had already called her that a lot, but she had figured he was just kidding…

“I beg your pardon…as I stated before, I can’t talk to people, I really can’t…I’m utterly and absolutely timid…I didn’t mean to run away like that…”she finally mumbled, offering a weak smile.

Words: 465
Tag: Mandee/Oliver
Notes: I want cake T_T

[Oliver Lee Winchester]

As Oliver watched Zana's reaction, he became confused. He was shy to some extent as well, though in other aspects - He hated to be put on the spot, and he hated to interact with large groups of people at once. Speeches were pretty much out of the question in both his past life and this one. However, one on one communication was something that he could deal with quite easily. He felt a bit of sympathy toward this girl, but that didn't stop his confusion.

When the girl introduced herself, stuttering a bit on the greeting, Oliver smiled a smile that he hoped would come across as comforting. He hadn't meant to startle her, of course - If he had, he would have made a much grander show of it. This girl almost seemed to be lost in her own world, which Oliver found rather interesting.

Her next words caused Oliver to take pause. She was about to say that she used to be a writer. It was a rather simple slip up, one that anyone could make...except that it wasn't. People typically didn't slip up and say that they used to be writers when they were aspiring to be a writer. Even if they did, they didn't hastily try to catch themselves after saying they used to do something and then switch it with wanting to do something. It wasn't much, but it set Oliver's suspicions off. He opted to ignore the statement at the moment, although he certainly had plans to come back to it later, after this conversation continued on for a bit (if it did).

"I...don't understand what there is to misunderstand?"[/color] He responded, utterly confused with her next statement. had he known her experiences with other children and teenagers, it all would have made sense, but he was not privy to that information. Thus, the statement confused him slightly. He waved a hand through the air as she began to apologize. "Don't worry about it. You seem like you're talking just fine to me."[/color] Yes, there were a few stutters here and there, and it was very clear that she was nervous. However, she was still getting her messages across, which was the entire point. Therefore, her speech was still doing it's job.

Once again, the girl started to apologize. It reminded him vaguely of Kimaya when they first met, though fortunately Kimaya was starting to come out of her shell around him. Then again, once the secrets they were keeping came out, it was like a domino effect. Oliver had intended to do part of that on purpose, but part of it was simply Kimaya's nature - Something about her made Oliver want to tell her everything. Isabella called it a crush, and perhaps she was right.

"You sound perfectly fine to me."[/color] Oliver responded, trying to reassure her that much more. He figured it was the best help he could offer at this moment in time.

Word count: 513
To: Abi/Zana
Notes: He caught it, I had to go on it to make things interesting. Hope you don't mind. XD

[zana]

Zana sighed in relief. Well…that had been embarrassing. No. Embarrassing didn’t cover it—again. Or maybe she was just exaggerating…well, it had been awkward. Let’s leave it at that, she thought. Just keep your mouth shut about you-know-what. Be quiet, be quiet, be quiet…her mind went on scolding her for a few seconds before she actually gathered all of the confidence she had, which was very little, and dared to speak.

“Good…um, thanks…you know…for not thinking I’m a shy freak…”she laughed a little bit at herself and felt a little bit more comfortable—it was just a bit, but wasn’t it a start? It had to be. At least she could talk a little bit more normally now. Well…her version of normal, with all those expressions and cadences of an old century and her old fashioned vocabulary that had been so criticized and complimented by her classmates and teachers, a vocabulary that one would expect to hear in an Austen movie…but oh, well…that wasn’t that bad.

“Please forgive me if I am mistaken, but I believe you go to class with me?” she asked, without stuttering this time. She smiled warily, still embarrassed—not quite as much as before though. It was just that awkward feeling people got when they didn’t know a person well enough and felt they were asking too many questions. That wasn’t weird at all, it was pretty common. Something she had experienced too many times in her life—or lives would be the most appropriate word, but she shed the thought off her mind. No need to think about that right now.

Suddenly Zana’s backpack got caught in a tree branch and ripped, its contents spilled on the ground. “Oh, no, no!” she wailed and started to pick everything up. A few pencils and pens, an old chocolate wrapping, her school books and notebooks…and the book she was reading for fun. Jane Eyre, by Charlotte Brönte… aka her sister from before.

She was just reading it out of curiosity, since she hadn’t lived long enough to see it published, and found it very interesting. Sometimes she heard that Jane Eyre was the best out of all of the Brönte’s works, and she couldn’t help but think it was true. As Emily, she had never wanted fame. Nor fortune. All of that writing had been for her own pleasure…maybe that was why her work would never reach the same success as Charlotte’s had. She sighed, feeling strangely disappointed with herself. Once more, her writer’s block started to take over and the spark of inspiration she had approximately two minutes ago faded to oblivion.

Words: 437
Tag:Mandee/Oliver
Notes:Darth Vader is Luke's father XD

[Oliver Lee Winchester]

Oliver looked a bit startled at her next words. "I don't think you're a shy freak at all!"[/color] Shy, yes. Anyone could tell that much. Freak? Not so much. Besides, at Riverdale, nothing was really as normal as it first appeared. Two fifths of the students attending were reincarnates. Even those that weren't seemed to have their own oddities and secrets. Therefore, if one person was considered a freak at Riverdale, they could all be considered freaks! And honestly, what was so bad about being a freak anyway?

The freshman was taken aback by her next words as well. The way she talked...Oliver was comfortable talking in both current slang and the slang of the late 19th/early 20th century. In fact, he'd lived until 1948 during his first lifetime, and thus was comfortable even with slang used around the World War 2 era.

He just didn't expect to hear such formal speech out of a girl in school. That was another note to add to the list of oddities he was discovering in this girl. Oddities that those belonging to the RSOR might find rather interesting.

"I believe you're correct."[/color] Oliver responded to the shy girl before him. "What do you think about Riverdale High so far?"[/color] He questioned, feeling a small sense of deja vu. He'd asked the exact same question to Kimaya. It seemed to be a good icebreaker, however, especially amongst other freshmen. He knew it wouldn't work with anyone older, but freshmen were guaranteed to be experiencing all of this for the first time. It was a valid question, and one that you knew you could relate to the other person on to some extent. It was a new experience for all of them, after all. "Certainly different than what I'm used to."[/color] Certainly different than what almost everyone was used to.

Oliver bent down to help her pick up the assorted items that spilled from her backpack. He noted the Jane Eyre book, of course, but did not think too much of it at this point. Perhaps later on in the conversation it would stand out more in his mind, but at this point he only had vague suspicions that she might be a reincarnate. He handed over a few pencils and the book, then noticed that Zana did not look particularly pleased. "Is something wrong?"[/color] He asked, waiting as patiently as he could for a response. He did not notice that her change of mood had anything to do with the book that came tumbling out of her backpack. Or, at least, he hadn't yet. Again, if she behaved in a certain way, he might pick up on things.

Word count: 513
To: Abi/Zana
Notes: He caught it, I had to go on it to make things interesting. Hope you don't mind. XD

[zana]

She blushed lightly. “Nothing is wrong…I’m just not pleased with myself for lacking inspiration at this moment,” she replied. “As I stated before, I aspire to become a writer…and I’m afraid the muses are not smiling at me at the moment,” Zana explained, feeling a little bit…strange. As though she was being far too predictable…transparent, easy to read…that was it, that was the expression she was looking for—easy to read. She had always considered it a bad thing…as a child, she had never been able to lie to anyone due to this characteristic she couldn’t rid herself of…the fact that she felt too easy to read.

Back at home, her mother had called her a closed book, too many times to be counted. She was used to it—to the fact that people found her difficult to read, and now, at this very moment, she wondered if she was that hard to read at all. Maybe she wasn’t. Maybe she was much more of an open book than she had ever thought…or maybe everyone else was just bad readers. Maybe. But maybe wasn’t enough. So she just picked up all of her books and tried not to fall over as she carried them. “Oh, don’t worry, I can manage…”she huffed when Oliver tried to help her with the books. In the end she just placed them back on the ground, neatly piled up. Suddenly, a thought occurred to her. Something she had never thought about.

“Please forgive me, but would you consider secrecy a good or a bad thing?” she asked suddenly. It was just something she needed to know, to figure out…should she go on keeping her works to herself or should she make them public as soon as she had a chance? It was an important question, and an opinion she needed. An opinion that didn’t come from any of her relatives—like Charlotte and Anne’s had on her previous life, like Marcus’s had in this new chance to live. “Oh, I am sorry if I confused you... I just need to hear a different point of view than the ones I have heard throughout my life,” she explained, bowing her head. “I have always…kept my works to myself for the sake of my privacy, but I am afraid that hasn’t turned out very well,” she added, and her voice was laced with disappointment. Instead of staying up, Zana knelt down of the grass, fixing her skirt carefully. This promised to be interesting.

Words: 416
Tag: Mandee/Oliver
Notes: Like Alice said: "Never tell a vampire it doesn't exist."

[Oliver Lee Winchester]

"Maybe I could try to help you come up with some inspiration?"[/color] Oliver offered. He'd never been much of a writer in either lifetime. It wasn't that his writing was terrible - It was usually clear and concise, but he simply did not look forward to the task of writing usually. He could write in a journal or diary, and he could write letters, but if he had to write a paper for class, or his own autobiography? That he did not enjoy as much. That was more like work to him. To the point where he hired someone else to write his biography rather than do it himself. Had Wilbur been alive, the autobiographies might have been finished, for he thoroughly enjoyed writing. With just Orville? Not a chance.

However, he figured the offer might be a nice way to bridge the gap between the two freshmen. Oliver was surprised to hear the huff and persistence in the girl's voice when she insisted that she didn't need his help with her books. It was a little unexpected, but Oliver backed off. He shouldn't have really been surprised, but the fact that it came from such an otherwise shy girl definitely caught his interest.

Her speech caught his interest as well. There was no ignoring how old-fashioned it sounded at this point. She could either be a geek for history...or it was possible that, since she was not apt at speaking with people very often, that she'd never experienced the switch from the speech in her past life to speech this time around. Yes, Oliver was considering possibilities now, even though he did not have much to go on. His imagination had a habit of going on overdrive once he got an idea into his head, and this was no different. He just had to make sure it didn't go too far out of his control, or he could put the secrecy of RSOR in danger.

That was something he did not exactly want hanging over his head.

The next question caught Oliver off guard. He wore a confused expression on her face, which was soon replaced by one conveying thought. Yes, he was going to put thought into this answer...it wasn't a question that one simply rattled off an answer to. "I think it depends on many factors, really. What are you keeping a secret, for example? Also, who are you telling the secret to, or keeping it from? Sometimes secrets are a good thing, but sometimes keeping something a secret for too long ends in more harm than good."[/color] Oliver knew from experience in both lifetimes. "Why do you ask?"[/color] Oliver was conscious of the fact that his own speech was starting to take on some of the characteristics that hers was.

Oliver shrugged and let loose a small smile at her final statement. "Perhaps you should try a different approach, then, and see how that path works out?"[/color] He wasn't quite sure what to make of this conversation yet, but it certainly seemed to be headed into an interesting direction. Then again, most conversations at Riverdale did, as he was coming to learn.

Word count: 529
To: Abi/Zana
Notes: Yep, I see it becoming interesting too. Whee!

[zana]

Zana smiled lightly. “Maybe I should…”she mumbled and just sighed lightly. Yes, she had figured the answer would be pretty much that, but then again she knew deep down that she wasn’t as confident as to show her stories to anyone. Well…at least that had been what happened with Wuthering Heights and it had still been a success, but she had figured Charlotte had published it after her death…and under a pseudonym.

“Thanks for your advice…I’ll definitely keep it in mind,” she added politely, bowing her head again, by force of habit, something she did often and that everyone found very strange, but that she couldn’t help. She looked up and just stared up at the clouds for a while, finding shapes and figures like little children usually did. Flowers, faces, stars, just random figures with no meaning at all… After a while she snapped back to reality, with a newfound inspiration. She grabbed a notebook and in the first page scribbled down a few words:

30 Years of Waiting,

By Ellis Bell.

She smiled at herself and this little inside joke. Ellis Bell. The name that she had picked up years ago, under which her novel had been published. Under which her poetry had first seen the light. A name she still used at times…but not often, as that would probably be obvious…then again; most people didn’t know that Emily Brönte and Ellis Bell was the same person…unless they had lived by the time the novel was first published. She hadn’t considered that, but the possibilities were…uncertain. Fierce. Cold. Uncaring…

“The possibilities…”she mused to herself. “The possibilities are always blowing against us. Our chances to beat them are scarce and our opportunities few. And that’s what you learn with age…”she finished and wrote it down quietly. “Oh, ignore my monologues,” she begged, blushing lightly. “I’m just thinking…”

But that was true, and she knew it. How many times had she refused to submit her poetry to publication? Of course, eventually she had agreed, but her poetry wasn’t that well-known. And yes, opportunities were few. And it was true that you could only learn that with age, she had seen it many times. The phrase ‘I wish I had done this or that’, wasn’t all that rare at all. Everyone had said it throughout their lives at least once. Maybe even more. It was a part of human nature that nobody could rid themselves off, and henceforth, doomed them to the human characteristic of making mistakes and tripping over the same stones. It was a pretty good reflection to start with…

Words:431
Tag:Mandee/Oliver
Notes: wow, Zana is a philosopher XD