Rapunzel Retelling: Renewal of Spirit!

I've reworked my Rapunzel retelling for the Arista Challenge several times. Something just didn't feel right, but I think it's fixed now. Here are the first thousand-ish words! Let me know what you think. :D
Also, the Loki/Thor x Reader (along with all my other misc. projects) is going to be on hold. The deadline for this and my Tales of a Modern Bard entry are rapidly approaching. So these take priority. Here's hoping I can get them both done in time... 😓
---
Loredana tilted her head back, eyeing the laden boughs above her head. very day, since they’d settled in this new land, the laden boughs of the fruit trees taunted her. They seemed to call, Can’t reach us! Just try!
Every day she passed by, the thought of how delicious and juicy the fruit would be played in her mind.
“If it were any closer to the Turning,” she growled to the ripe fruit, “I would shake you from your tree right now.”
Her husband Lando came up the path and toyed with her pale hair. “If it were any closer to Turning, you would be playing the zephyr and not caring for fruit.”
Loredana huffed and pulled away. “I will taste those plums, you’ll see.”
Lando sighed. He wondered what scheme his wife would devise to get what she wanted. “I hope she finds something else,” he muttered to himself. “With my luck, her plan would involve me getting it for her.”
“Oh! My love, look!” Loredana’s feet beat against the ground excitedly, as if she were standing in place. “Will you get this for me?”
Eyebrows drawn in a long-suffering frown, Lando continued up the path and rounded the bend. “What is—” He stopped short, breath taken away by what he saw.
The first thing he noticed was a large, golden tree. Its pale leaves and ocher flowers hung down to the ground on thin, wavering branches. Though there was no wind, the willow fluttered as if being toyed with. The very air around it seemed to sparkle.
The second thing Lando noticed was the fence. It was odd, to find any sort of boundary or border; the only people who did so were the enchanters.
“Darling,” he whispered. He wanted to say, “we should leave,” but he glanced down at her before he did so. A familiar glint was in her light gray eyes. His sentence turned into a stutter, then a sigh. “Why do you want it so badly?”
“I simply must have it!” She clutched at the lapels of his earthen-colored jacket. Her gray-cast face was drawn in longing. “Please.”
Feeling annoyed that the expression was almost the same as the one she’d met him with on their wedding night, Lando frowned. “But…it’s an enchanter’s garden!”
Loredana whirled away in a huff. Her dark red skirt flared out in an enticing spin. She crossed her arms and refused to say another word. She didn’t even say anything when the village gossip—a close friend of hers—tried to engage her in conversation.
The day passed by with the usual village activities; gathering flowers and plants for dyes, tending the wild gardens, working at the tannery. Loredana’s silence hung heavy on Lando, until they turned in to their cottage for the night.
When he was about to fall asleep, she laid her head on his neck. In a pained whisper, she said, “I will simply die if I can’t have it.”
Lando cursed himself for a fool. A sleepy fool, but a fool nonetheless. “Then I will simply have to get it for you,” he replied.

Lando stole along the path, wondering why he’d gotten up before dawn to do this. Weren’t enchanter’s powers stronger at night? Weren’t they more protective of their property?
He shivered and tucked his black undershirt into his loose breeches. “Why didn’t I change?” he asked himself. The memory of his wife’s desperate, nagging pleading played in his mind. “Still…”
The tree looked even more magnificent in the moonlight than it had during the day. Its petals and leaves glowed softly, still swaying. Still glittering as if thousands of stars had come to rest on them.
Holding his breath in fear and anticipation, he clambered over the dark wooden fence. His blond hair fell over his eyes in an untidy mop. Sputtering and trying to catch his breath—he wasn’t a very athletic man—Lando waited a few moments.
There was no alarm. No shouts. No flashes of magic. No yowling of hounds. He was safe.
Quietly, he side-stepped into the soft glow of the willow. With an expert hand, he pinched and twisted off a few blossoms. Carefully, and trying not to be overwhelmed by the wonderful scent, he tucked the blossoms and leaves into a pouch at his side.
That night, he escaped safely. He brewed a tea for his Loredana, hoping it would ease her longing. To his dismay, the next night, she declared that her longing had grown threefold!
He went back to the garden once, twice. The third time, he came face to face with the witch Kamille.
A beautiful outfit with many folds and waves, dyed purple and black, could not make the hunched, one-eyed figure pretty. The witch’s lank gray hair formed a weak curtain over the crooked hazel eye on the left side of her face. Her back was bent nearly double, her head coming to Lando’s stomach.
She glared up at him. “What are you doing with my laburnum?” Her voice matched her face; old, tired, and terribly cranky.
Lando fell to his knees. “Please, forgive me! My wife…” He trailed off, knowing he should have been more firm with her. “Please, forgive me. I have no excuse,” he said softly.
The witch was silent a while. When she spoke, her voice was flat. “I will forgive you your theft, provided you give me something in return.”
“Yes!” Lando kept his head down, awaiting the witch’s demand.
“I will be the godmother of your child.”
Lando glanced up in surprise. “But…we have no children! We were told…well…” He trailed off again.
“You will,” Kamille said with a twisted grin. “You will.”

Fanfic and Fanart: IDIA!

So, C.B. Cook has a blog tour going on right now (I'm scheduled to do a post on Saturday), and with it a fanfic/art contest!

Click here to get all the details!

My fanfic features Finch and Eva in another encounter (idk why but I love these two so much). Originally, I had wanted this to be slightly happier, with the both of them breaking out into song on an ice rink, but it just didn't work out that way... :P

EDIT: Turns out the image just needed to be shrunk a bit. :D
I took the liberty to rearrange a few things (song credits, a couple sentences in the fanfic), so if the post looks different, that's why.

I had a bit of art commissioned by JamesArtVille.

So, here's Finch. Or how I picture him, anyways. The fanfic starts below the picture.
(I made a Pinterest board if you want to see the reference pics I gave to the artist.)

-----

Light is Breaking

IDIA Fanfic: Finch and Eva

From the kitchen a room away, Finch’s phone blasted metal songs over a set of speakers. He wouldn’t call it “music”, but the lyrics were what he was after right now. He watched the rain spatter against the window, then totally obscure the view of the alley. There was another window, with a view of a small park, but he wanted to brood.

I listen to the words you're saying

Words I'm fighting to believe

It's like I'm living from a distance

When you're out of reach.

I wanna feel it,

When I mean it,

When I say it,

Can you hear me at all?

His apartment was in the ramshackle state of being packed up. He couldn’t even remember where he’d been planning to move, or why. Data, the head of IDIA, had said she would take care of it. Had let him know that he could start unpacking until they figured things out.

He’d started, hoping the sight of favored items would bring a sense of familiarity to the place. The knick-knacks and models and books only served to frustrate him.

His parents had offered to have him move in with them. He couldn’t stand the thought of waking to a house he’d grown up in, to face the constant “oh you used to” and “do you remember”s.

The song finished, and another began playing.

I'm a soldier: wounded so I must give up the fight

There's nothing more for me, lead me away...

Or leave me lying here

He mouthed the last line, closed his eyes, and pressed his head against the cold window pane. Despite the passing of time, the amnesia wasn’t getting any easier to live with.

The next verse of the song began to play.

Without a light I fear that I will stumble in the dark

Lay right down. Decide not to go on

The music began to swell into a hopeful refrain.

With a sigh, Finch rose and made his way through the maze of boxes.

Then from on high somewhere in the distance

There's a voice that calls, "Remember who you are."

He hovered his finger over the pause button.

"If you lose yourself your courage soon will follow.

So be strong tonight. Remember who you are."

He pressed stop.

A knock at the door.

Finch hadn’t thought he’d been on edge, but the soft sound made him jump. A precarious stack of boxes leaning against the island counter teetered.

Eva’s voice came through the door, muffled. “Mathis? Can I come in?”

He’d forgotten he’d agreed to meet with her. Thus far she’d been the most understanding. Willing to simply talk. Let him decide things, discover things. “Coming.”

He opened the door.

Eva’s dark eyes widened at the sight of him. “Have you slept or eaten recently?”

“No.” Finch shuffled aside to let her come in. “I haven’t been hungry.” The food in the freezer didn’t appeal to him, and he didn’t want to eat out. “And I don’t want to sleep.” He wanted to dream.

Eva picked her way across the entryway to the relatively cleared living room area. After shifting aside the DVD cases of several "Fast and Furious" movies, she sat on the couch.

Finch took suit, coming down heavily and leaning his head back. “Sorry for the mess. I haven’t been able to work up the energy to clean.”

Eva laid a hand on his lap. “Have you thought about what I said?”

That was part of what had kept him up the night before. He nodded, doubtfully. “I still don’t believe you.”

“Then I’ll say it again. I don’t care if we have to start this whole dance at the beginning; I love you.”

Finch smiled. “Is that how you see this? A dance?”

“Yes.”

I'm trying to hold my breath

Let it stay this way

Can't let this moment end

You set off a dream with me

Finch shot a curious glance towards the kitchen. An IDIA agent?

Take my hand

Will you share this with me?

Eva laughed, stood and pulled him up with her. Twined her fingers into his, laid her other hand on his shoulder. “We can start here.”

She walked him through several waltz steps, humming all the while.

Towers of gold are still too little

These hands could hold the world but it'll

Never be enough

Never be enough

As they went, Finch felt a small thrill. Instinct moved him a half step ahead of his mind; he remembered how to dance, after a fashion.

A wave of relief washed over him. He started shaking. “Stop,” he gasped.

Eva, alarm plain on her face, helped him back onto the couch. She laid a tentative hand on his arm. “Is it…are you…”

He wanted to spin her in the air and kiss her. Instead, he clasped his hands together and leaned forward.

“Muscle memory,” he managed to say. He swiped his tears away with his thumb. “I didn’t think I’d be this relieved.” Finch licked his lips. “Before…all this…what would I have done? What would I do now?”
Part of him couldn’t believe he was asking. Questions like that were a majority of the reason he was holed up the way he was. Another part trusted Eva. She knew him.

Eva shed tears of her own, darkened the sleeve of her jacket brushing them away. “Sing.”

Never Enough had stopped playing. What could he sing? What song…

At a loss, Finch met Eva’s eyes. There was still a bit of fear, from that first meeting, when he hadn’t remembered her.

With an unsteady warble, he began.

“You could turn a hundred years and never empty all you fears,

“They're pouring out like broken words and broken bones…”

He felt as if he were singing for both Eva and himself. Finishing the verse, he scooted closer, pressed his forehead against hers.

“Hold on love, don't give up,

“Don't close your eyes;

“The light is breaking through the night…”

-----

Song credits:
So Far Away, by RED
Sound the Bugle, soundtrack from "Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron"

Never Enough, specifically the Greatest Showman version (and this male cover version)

Into the Day, by Bebo Norman

Rebel!

So, it’s week three of Camp Nanowrimo. A plot bunny latched onto me while I was at work, and stayed with me throughout the day. It didn’t even have anything to do with my task at hand (frying chicken). I was just thinking about dryads, then I thought about Rapunzel, and then I thought about the Arista Challenge.

Hosted by Kendra Ardnek over at Giraffe Crafts.

A purpose to rebellion! :D

I’m trying so very hard not to let this rebellion take over my other projects, doing a smidgen of words here, half a scene there...but, my planned MC for Dead in Sleep has fallen silent, and my endeavors of writing Convoluted Chronicles stories are increasingly frustrating... :P

Here’s a bit about this rebellion project, tentatively titled Renewal of Spirit. Characters first, because characters are awesome. I’ll do another post within the month (or early next month) about the world it’s set in.

Corinna—the “prince” figure. An Earth Child. Is a bit of a loner, due to her crippled right arm (an encounter with a forest beast). Everyone except her family began ignoring her once it was clear her arm wouldn’t be healing. Who wants to watch a one-armed girl when they're busy hunting and preparing for the Turning?
Daughter of a disinherited princess, she just wants…well, she isn’t sure, but she knows she'll have to brave the Turning eventually. One can't grow cooped up in a castle, after all.

Laburnum Notah—the “Rapunzel” figure. A Wind Child. He’s been stuck in a mountain his whole life, and educated by a hag named Kamilla. He would love to have someone other than her to talk to, but Kamilla has convinced him (through proper education, of course) that he has no place in the outside world. He’s too reclusive for his boisterous people, and too rowdy for any others. So, he stays in the mountain, cooking, cleaning, and secretly resenting his name of “Laburnum.” Has the habit of singing when he’s lonely.

Kamilla—the witch figure. An Earth Child. She was outcast so long ago that even she doesn’t remember why. In her old age, sometimes slips into dementia. Always wanted to have a child, but was barren. Surprisingly proficient with a kitchen knife, oddly deficient in magic. She does things like make little lights and bind people in curses with ease, but ask her to enchant something to be sturdy, and it might just end up turning into a toad.

Notah’s Parents (currently unnamed)—the parental figures. Children of the Wind. The father’s a weaver, the mother’s a dye maker. Notah was her first son, and while she learned not to covet, she is currently learning not to brag, especially about something as important as being able to weave flying carpets from grass. The father's learned that trying to keep his wife out of trouble is pointless, so he's settled for trying to get her out of trouble. Which may also be pointless.