LyndenElowenCharacterSketch

A short character sketch.

Hey guys!

So the last few days have been rough. Not only am I super busy, but I also came down with some nasty cold that’s made me exhausted, tired, and a bit queasy. Not so much fun. Because of that, I’m behind in my writing, and I don’t really feel like forcing out a shit blog post.

Instead, I tracked down a character development I was working on with a friend a while ago. Basically, this is a fun writing sample.

Sorry again for the lazy post. Hopefully I’ll be feeling well enough to catch back up with myself soon!

Cheers,
–MC

* * *

The trolley jangled and bounced along it’s asphalt-embedded track. Lynden was slender–at least he seemed slender compared to the busy hoard of morning commuters. Part of that was natural. Part of it was only perception. He held on to the side of the old machine, his long fingers clasped comfortably around the cool metal shaft holding the top of the bus up from the bottom. The trolleyman tinged his bell, waved at onlookers, called out the stops and attractions left and right as he powered his beast with a steel footpedal and rusted lever.

A world run on electricity and steam and gas–it still felt foreign and exhilarating.

Lynden Elowen was not on his way to some office building or to sit behind a cashier’s counter the way most his peers were. He was headed to the pier, to take advantage of the low traffic (if you could ever call pedestrian traffic in San Francisco “low”) of a Tuesday morning lull. The weekend rush of worldwide tourists had slowly filtered out and about as the work week set in.

It wasn’t that Lynden didn’t enjoy the crowds. He really did. Humanwatching was one of his favorite past times. He would scurry onto a nearby rooftop and just watch the way people moved. Their natures were so interesting and so very different than the life he had grown up with. They taught him so much about the world and about himself–at least, about part of himself.

But humanwatching was nasty distraction when he was working.

As the trolley reached a bend near the pier, Lyden leapt from it’s platform and landed gracefully on the sidewalk. An onlooker or two took noticed and raised their brows, but overall he went along his way as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. He strode toward the ocean–the smooth breeze felt tainted against his skin. The stink of mankind’s pollution may have been invisible to their senses, but those subtleties were not lost on his kind. In fact, for most others in his community, these senses were even more refined than his. He didn’t like to think about it.

The pier was far from barren but nowhere near as congested as it had been only a few days prior. Street vendors and artists, men dressed as robots and statues, and a homeless man behind a piece of tree lined the walkway. They smiled or waved or ignored him entirely as he walked deftly past. His stride was somewhat inhuman–too fluid and natural for the loping, awkward gait of man to understand (and likely even notice), but it definitely made him look poised and powerful. The strong jaw helped with that, as well. A woman turned to watch him walk passed, and he smiled. His teeth were somewhat sharper than they rightfully should have been.

Lyden smelled the Boudin Bakery long before he actually saw the building. The warm and tantalizing scent of sourdough bread wafted toward him. One thing humans knew (at least some humans) was food, and he had fallen in love with mankind’s cuisine from his first venture above ground. The Boudin Bakery was one of his favorites. Not only did it supply him with an excellent vantage point–not too high to make apprehension difficult but not so low his visibility was limited–but it also offered both wonderful food and a delicious smell to mask the smell of human error coming in from the sea.

So, he strode into the store, bought himself a large loaf of Boudin’s specialty sourdough bread, and walked around the back of the building. Giving a cautious glance to the right, then one to the left, Lynden crouched low and then jumped to the rooftop. A child gaped after him, and Lynden gave him a mischievousness smile and wiggled his fingers in a wave before he let nature swoop in and hide him from the world.

Then, he sat, ate his bread by the mouthful, and observed, waiting for his target to meander by. If he was lucky, she would be alone.

Categories: Exercises, Sneak Peeks, Writing

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