Steampunk Library: Library Series

Citali again with another library! This library is a steampunk vehicle-house! This, I guess, is the first installment... I might add more to the Athenaeum's story later.

Steampunk

She pulled the lever, and the Athenaeum Airship began jolting forwards on its large velocipede wheels. The open windows clattered in their frames and let in a wind that whipped her braids back along with her scarf. Steadfast, nowhere did the pilot's eyes wander until she grabbed the throttle and pulled it farther back, tipping the Airship back on its oversize wheels and setting its batlike wings flapping as the Athenaeum lifted up into the sky. Stepping out of the controls area, the pilot yanked sharply on a bellpull. A horn let out a loud, comical squawk and a boy wearing airship goggles and a mischievous expression popped his head down the skylight. The girl snatched the goggles off his head. "That's where my goggles got to?"

The boy grinned and hopped down from the skylight, bowing a bit. "Isn't that what your little-brother-librarian-sidekick is for?" Turning serious, he continued, "What's our next city? Did you see the trunk of books I managed to get at that antique shop in that last town? A steal! They're really good too; some of them actually aren't falling apart at the bindings."

The pilot-girl rolled her eyes halfheartedly. She might never let her little brother see it, but he really was a good librarian-sidekick. "Yes, we've got to sort out those books you found. Come on, the Airship can fly itself for a few hours, and we must get those books on the shelf before we get to the next town." Turning, she gripped the railing of an old iron spiral staircase and descended to a lower floor. Here, below the deck where she piloted and her brother kept watch over the wings and the steam engine, was the Athenaeum itself: the library. Leather poufs filled the space between half-full bookshelves. The girl opened the window seat between two bookcases and pulled a needle and thread, as well as a bottle of glue, from the repair kit she kept there. As her brother descended into the library with a battered trunk, she opened it to reveal even more stacks of books. "It was a good find," she admitted. "But like all good things, it can always be better if we make it so." He rolled his eyes at her waxing philosophical, but took the glue bottle she offered him and sat down on his own pouf, checking book spines and applying glue.

A steam horn squawked. "Come on, we're almost to the next city." Her brother tumbled the unfinished books into the window seat's storage and scrambled up the spiral stairs behind her. As he climbed to the rooftops to sight the town through the clouds, she pulled down her goggles. Before her, clouds scudded past as she lowered the Airship down into a field. Before she could stop her brother, he'd given an ear-piercing whistle and sounded the squawky horn of the Airship again. Children and adults spilled out of the town buildings towards the airship taking up the town common, holding baskets full of books.

Children tugged at their mothers' skirts as they waited their turn in the "magical house" of the Athenaeum. The girl had thrown open the windows, and shouts of the children running around the commons followed her down the stairs to the Athenaeum floor. As her brother set the last books on the shelves in order, she threw open the doors. "Come one, come all! Visit the Athenaeum Airship, home of books you need! We fly from city to city to bring you from your world to a world far away!"

And as her brother, swarmed by little boys, went over to find some serial novels for his flock (though closely watched by slightly disapproving parents' eyes), the pilot-girl took a basket of books and wandered out onto the common.

"Come one, come all. I'm here, the Athenaeum girl, with books for those who don't want to venture from your world; books that are here, right now."

Happy reading!
~Citali

After

I sense a disturbance in the Force: Spoilers!

Luke gives him a Jedi's funeral, for which he is impossibly grateful. (You don't deserve it, says a voice in his head. It sounds like Palpatine's. He pushes the thought aside.)

No, the important thing right now is: where is he? He's fairly certain he's dead. Wait. If he's dead, how is he thinking? He lets out a huff, then another thought occurs to him. His breathing is... silent. For the first time in twenty-six years, he can exhale without the accompanying whoosh of his suit. Slowly, not daring to believe it, he looks down.

Hands, both flesh. Feet intact. He reaches up, trembling, to touch his head, and feels-- hair? Yes, hair, the roguish curls he last remembers having during the Clone Wars.

Nope. Impossible. He's hallucinating. (You can't hallucinate if you're dead, Ani. This voice sounds like Padme, and it's equally soothing and heartbreaking.)

How is this happening? He was a Sith for close to thirty years; shouldn't he be burning in some Force-forsaken netherworld?

"Always so dramatic, Skywalker."

The voice is not his; he has not heard it in decades. (There is a lump in his throat. It was not there before.) He looks up and there they are, alive and well-- well, not alive, but standing there in front of his eyes is the Council: Mace Windu, the one who spoke to him. Plo Koon. Ki-Adi-Mundi. Depa Billaba. Kit Fisto. Even Piell. Adi Gallia. Saesee Tiin. And standing in the front, green-gold eyes filled with liquid wisdom, Master Yoda.

He does not hesitate before dropping to his knees and prostrating himself in a full kowtow. "My masters," he manages to choke out, "I am so, so sorry." It is an incredibly inadequate apology, he knows. "I... failed you. I failed the Order, I surrendered to the Dark. I have done such horrible, horrible things, and I am so sorry."  Words cannot express his guilt. He hopes they understand that. Even so, he does not dare to raise his eyes from the ground. Cowardly to the end, Skywalker.

"Anakin." This voice (one more familiar to him than any other in the galaxy) is rich with warmth, with kindness. "Anakin, get up."

And oh, if anyone could ever break him, it was Obi-Wan. The sound of his voice shatters Anakin's resolve; suddenly there are hot tears rolling down his face, and Obi-Wan is helping him off the ground and embracing him. (He is sobbing like a youngling now, because this is Obi-Wan, and Force, he has not seen him for so long...)

After a minute or so, Obi-Wan holds him at arm's length and examines him."No, Anakin. You did not fail me."

"Master, I killed you."

At this there is a ripple of amusement in the Force. "Only because I let you, my young friend. Only because I let you."

Anakin smiles through his tears. Typical Obi-Wan. "Where am I, Master?" he asks.

Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow in an all-too-familiar expression. "I would have thought that was obvious, Anakin. You're dead."

"I know that, Master. But where am I?"

It is Master Windu who replies. "You are one with the Force, young Skywalker."

"Or," supplies Obi-Wan helpfully, "rather colloquially, you are a ghost. A Force ghost, to be precise."

"That doesn't make sense, Master. I was Dark. How am I one with the Force?"

Master Yoda steps forward, and Anakin kneels to face him. "The Chosen One, you were. Jedi you were; Sith you became."

"I know, Master. I am so sorry." He is a rather tongue-tied ghost, it seems, only able to repeat one phrase of apology.

Yoda waves his gimer stick."Know this I do! Interrupt me not!"

Anakin bows his head in acquiescence.

The diminutive master harrumphs, then continues. "In the end, bring balance to the Force, you did. Die a Jedi, you did." He chuckles. "Only thirty years too late were you!"

Anakin winces. "Yes, Master."

"A joke it was, Skywalker. Bear no ill will, do we."

"I am responsible for so much death and destruction, Master. How can you just forgive me?"

"Jedi we are. Hate we do not, young one. At peace be. Your fall, the will of the Force it was."

He rises from his kneeling position and addresses the whole Council. "Thank you, my masters. I do not deserve this... but thank you."

"There is nothing to thank us for, Anakin," replies Obi-Wan. "Now come. Qui-Gon's been waiting for you a very long time. And Anakin?"

"Yeah?"

Obi-Wan smiles. "Welcome home."

FINIS

Hope you enjoyed! *hands you a tissue box*

~Willow

Pook Bairings

Or, in other words, book pairings. Citali presents, specifically, nonfiction that complements fiction books in theme or idea. I would completely recommend all of these. The first and second books, respectively, are fiction and nonfiction.

1. The Book Thief by Markus Zusak and The Diary of a Young Girl by Anne Frank. Both set in the terrible times of World War II, one portrays the struggles of a girl on Germany's home front, a girl for whom Death is ever watching; the other is the real-life, beautiful and sad, diary of a Dutch Jewish girl hiding in a "Secret Annexe."  
2. The Anatomy of Curiosity by Maggie Stiefvater, Tessa Gratton, and Brenna Yovanoff and Take Joy: A Writer's Guide to Loving the Craft by Jane Yolen. Two books about the essential curiosity of creating and writing novels and short stories, one is a collection of three fiction works by three young adult authors who specialize respectively in characters, worldbuilding, and ideas; one is a short but sweet author's guide to making work original and interesting to write.
3.  Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card and If the Universe Is Teeming With Aliens--Where Is Everybody?: Fifty Solutions to the Fermi Paradox and the Problem of Extraterrestrial Life by Stephen Webb. Both books tackle one of the most interesting concepts of science fiction, aliens: one is a novel addressing the idea of child soldiers in a war with an extraterrestrial civilization, while the other is a scientific analysis of different theories about the notable lack of discovered aliens.
4. The Call of the Wild by Jack London and Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver. This one's a bit more esoteric. The novel is a classic tale of awakening of inner instincts, courage, and the meaning of being--from the perspective of a dog-turned-wild; the other is a more human perspective, a memoir of a family's resolution to eat only local food, as it was meant to be. 
5. Carry On, Mr. Bowditch by Jean Lee Latham and Eye of the Albatross by Carl Safina. Also obscure, one is a novelization of the life of a real American mathematician-seaman who revolutionized navigation with a love of mathematics; the other is a love story discussing nature and its essential perfection, how nature must look to animals and how everything is exquisitely designed. Math and nature do go together! 

Does loving pens count as a fandom?

Okay, I'll admit it, I don't really think of pens as a fandom. But in the same vein as writers loving concept art or playlists, I really love having fancy tools with which to write. Exhibit A: fountain pens.

I'll also admit that said fancy tools aren't my first choice when I'm working. I write on Google Docs so that I can put comments all over my work and insert said concept art for inspiration. I brainstorm on my phone. But a few years ago, my brilliant cousin, who counts jetpens.com among her favorite stores, gave me a fountain pen and a tube of refills, among other things, for a Christmas present. I don't quite use it on a normal basis, as pink ink isn't the most practical all the time, but I really love it and as something I wouldn't buy for myself, it really is amazing.

The fountain pen I have is the Pilot Petit1, which is a tiny mini pen that's about four inches when it's got its cap on and about five inches when its cap is stuck to the back (in other words, when I'm actually writing). I got pink ink for it and have gone through three cartridges in the couple of years since I got it.  You can see a few pictures of the pen, first capped and then uncapped, with a U.S. quarter for scale.

This here is how the pen looks like when I take it apart. The lid comes off, of course, and you can unscrew the bottom to expose the... nib section? Pure pen? I have no idea how to express the object on the left. Anyway, you can see the nib at the top and then the ink feed in the middle (that's where you hold the pen) and finally the almost empty cartridge (I'm holding out). Isn't it beautiful how you can take things apart and put them together? You can take the cartridge out, too, but then ink drops splatter and you don't want that. I'm being really nerdy, amn't I?

In actuality, I really love this pen, even if I wouldn't have bought it for myself. I've been wasting way too much time on jetpens.com which has much better pictures than I do and has tons of superspecialized data about tons of pens like these! They've also got a blog to let you in on some of their superspecialized secrets of the pen fandom (penners? pen snobs?) I'd definitely recommend this if you have any writer friends you want to give a gift to! They've got a pack of eight for $3.75 each, so you can give them out to all your friends! I just think fountain pens are such a sophisticated and nerdy (at the same time) gift.

Happy writing!
~Citali

P.S. This is a picture from the JetPens website of the set of pens. They're slightly different from mine in that its cap is transparent and not colored, since mine is an earlier edition (hear that pen-snobbery? Someone better stop me before I go too deep into this fandom). I wish I owned all of these; I've just got the pink one for now, with a blue cartridge and a black bottle of ink I'll refill my existing cartridge with. So I'll have a pink pen with black ink (or blue). 

Camp NaNoWriMo (Reprise)

Who'd have thunk it? Well, by the picture you can probably tell... I'm doing Camp again! I can't say I like the logo for Camp as much this year as last April's, but I do like that it has a fountain pen! I recently re-found my own fountain pen, and I've got to say that those and typewriters are about the most writerly (sure that's a word, spellcheck, don't underline it) things in the world! All the better for some inspiration!

To summarize Camp: NaNoWriMo is a project where you write a novel (50,000 words) in a month in November. YWP is a project for anyone under 13 where you write a novel (you chose the word count) in a month in November. Camp NaNoWriMo is a project where you write a novel in a month in April or July with twelve friends in a cabin. This way you get to see your friends' projects and celebrate with them when they reach their goals! Sadly, Camp is only for those 13 and up, though you can unofficially join in and write, of course, anytime! I'm overusing exclamation points!

Anyway, I'm writing a bit of a continuation/remake of the steampunk library I'm writing! I really ended up liking the idea, and I read a lot more steampunk besides The Inventor's Secret after I wrote that, so now I really like the genre and am going to try to devote myself to that! If not, though, I might write a friendship-based realistic flash fiction thing (wow, that sounded weird) just to get words in. I don't really write except for Camp and NaNo, so if I get stuck then I'll just make more projects and keep going so that I'm doing something.

Camp is how I got started with NaNo and it's my third one (second year)! I'd really recommend it to anyone and everyone. Here you go! http://campnanowrimo.org/news/welcome-to-the-camp-nanowrimo-creativity-garden

Happy writing, WriMos!
~Citali

Carry on, Martian Fangirls: January Book Haul

Wow, we haven't done one of these in a while! I guess the whole "monthly" thing isn't working out... but anyway, here's what I (Citali) have been reading this month, and a little bit of December too!

Bought and received

Fangirl by Rainbow Rowell

And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie

From the library (read)

The Martian by Andy Weir

The Conjurer's Riddle by Andrea Cremer (sequel to The Inventor's Secret)

Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo 

Reread

Carry On, Mr. Bowditch by Jean Lee Latham

Emily Climbs by L. M. Montgomery (Book 2 in the Emily Novels)

Wild Magic by Tamora Pierce (Book 1 in The Immortals quartet)

To be read

Carry On by Rainbow Rowell

Afterworlds by Scott Westerfield

The Raven Boys by Maggie Stiefvater

The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins

Happy Reading!

~Citali

All Rise For the General (Episode I)

It's Willow here, with the first of my series of Star Wars posts. Enjoy!

Let's talk about Leia Organa. Princess, senator, rebel. Mother. Force-sensitive who chooses a different path. Who, despite having lost nearly everything, never even considers the dark side. (Skywalker boys, take notes. This is how it's done.)

We meet her first in A New Hope as she's captured by Vader and his stormtroopers. Leia never so much as flinches, going so far as to sass the man who captures her. ("I recognized your foul stench when I was brought on board.") Remember, this is a girl barely out of her teens. She's twenty. She's incredibly tight-lipped about the rebels' whereabouts, resisting interrogation by a menacing torture droid. Tarkin threatens to blow up her home planet, yet she remains silent. Tarkin actually does blow up her home planet-- and she lies, says Dantooine.

Think about this for a second. This twenty-year-old just witnessed a planet exploding. Millions of deaths. The destruction of everything she's ever known and loved. The massacre of her family. Yet Leia Organa maintains the presence of mind to lie to Grand Moff Tarkin about the rebel base. She allows herself no time to grieve. When Luke and company rescue her, she focuses on the task at hand. She snaps at Han, fires at stormtroopers, and comforts Luke when Obi-Wan is killed.

She allows herself no time to grieve. Even after the Death Star is destroyed, after Luke and Han are rewarded for bravery, she remains stoic. She has a duty to the Rebel Alliance, and she will bring down the Empire if it's the last thing she does. Do you think she never second-guesses herself? Do you think she doesn't blame herself for her parents' deaths? Leia pushes down her pain and carries on, something her biological father never learned to do.

To Be Continued

I hope you guys enjoyed this! This... Leianalysis will be continued in future posts. Please, don't hesitate to send me feedback. After all, as befits a Jedi, "I come to serve".

~Willow