Bittersweet

a mystery lies in her --

Sun, 01 Jun 2008 19:21:16 GMT

This is it, people. My new Livejournal. Quiver in fear. My last LJ was pretty inactive, and very unorganized. This is basically my fanfiction journal, but I'll have a few personal stuff friend-locked. Please friend me~ I won't bite, I swear!

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- Steering by the Stars Fanfiction
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<333!

Steering By the Stars [3]

Sun, 01 Jun 2008 18:55:27 GMT

Steering By the Stars [2]

Sun, 01 Jun 2008 18:52:14 GMT

Steering By the Stars [1]

Sun, 01 Jun 2008 18:47:37 GMT

Title: Steering By the Stars
Fandom: Gemma Doyle (A Great and Terrible Beauty)
Language: English
Genre: Adventure, Romance
Summary: When Gemma Doyle moves to New York, her life changes. University isn't everything that she thought it would be; there are dangers lurking everywhere. She thinks she has finally escaped the realms, but has she? My version of the fourth book of the series.
Status: In-Progress (Chapter 1)
Comments: This is my first serious fanfiction. Please tell me what you think!

It is my first day attending the university

It is my first day attending the university. Butterflies flit about my stomach, and I command them to settle… but to no avail. I’m nervous about what’s to come. In fact, I’m actually afraid. Hah. I remind myself that there are far worse things to be afraid of – dark monsters whose main goal is to gobble you up and feast on your blood. The thought brings shivers to my body, but it cures me of my silliness. I leave the small flat and set towards a new beginning.

It is an easy walk, and I bask in the sunshine. My petticoats twirl around me in the slight breeze, and I laugh. Nobody turns to stare. There are no whispers behind hands about my “ignorant behavior”. I want to shout for joy but instead, I keep walking, a true smile on my face.

And then I tilt it towards the sun. Bright light floods my eyes, and I briefly see an image before me: an Indian boy holding out his hand, beckoning me to him. I want to embrace him, but the sunshine’s too bright. My day’s been tainted already, and my good mood turned into something fowl. I miss Kartik. How could I prance around?

The path to the university veers and faces the water. I see Lady Liberty, resplendent in a flowing dress, lighting the way for passengers to come. She is my reason for being here, in America. Opportunities here are endless thanks to her. Trying to rid my mind of Kartik and stay joyful, I curtsy to Lady Liberty, dropping my head daintily, just as I had to the Queen of England weeks ago. I almost expect to feel a tap on my shoulder, signaling me to stand and mingle among others who were accepted among her society. But there is no tap, and I realize that I am accepted in America no matter what.

When I rise, a boy of about eighteen stands before me. Unruly brown hair shapes his soft face. Dark, questioning blue eyes stare into green. His lips stretch into a grin, and I blush, all at once realizing what I’ve done.

Before I can apologize, he says, “I believe you’ve mistaken me for royalty, miss.” He sweeps into a proper bow. Foolish, foolish Gemma. He takes my hand in his and, boldly as he pleases, places his lips on my palm.

I wrench it away from him quickly. “Now listen here -” I start, but he interrupts, and I wonder if it will forever be this difficult to be heard in America.

“Now, now, that is not how you speak to royalty.” The boy waves a finger before my face, and I want to slap it like an annoying fly. “You must address me by my proper station. Duke Colwell of Brooklyn, at your service,” He extends a hand, and I can only suppose he wants me to shake it. Instead, I bustle past him.

“I shall be late for class with all this dilly-dallying,” I mutter, knowing fully that class doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes. Truth be told, I left so early because I was afraid that I would become lost. However, the walk is short, and I remind myself to leave later and escape embarrassing moments like this happening again.

I pass a beautiful park on my way to the university. I want to stop and have a look around, but if I move from my path, “Duke Colwell” will surely question my endeavors. Indeed, only a moment after I left him, I found him by my side again, hands in his pockets, whistling. I keep my head high and ignore him. I’ve no time for hooligans.

He follows me into the vast courtyard which welcomes us to Brooklyn University. He follows me into the largest building on campus, which holds half of the classes. He even follows me to class, by which time I am fuming. Before turning the doorknob and entering class, I turn to him and say, “Have you nothing better to do than follow me around?”

He raises his eyebrows, that silly grin still present. “Following you? Please. I’m only going to class.” With one last wink, he disappears within the classroom. He takes my hand and leads me to a group of desks in the far right side of the classroom. At once, I am amazed by its size; at the center of the room is a large blackboard and a podium, a desk with many papers splayed across it, and the American flag, waving happily above the students. There are portraits of people I’ve never seen before hanging on the walls. The desks are not like desks at all, but rather benches with small nooks underneath them for storage of books. This is university. I sigh. I’d be able to appreciate it more if this imbecile wasn’t dragging me around like a five-year-old’s favorite doll.

“Here she is, everyone. Feast your eyes on the new exchange student!” My face burns. How could he? There are few people in the classroom, as we’re early, but those who are here turn to give me a quizzical look. I long to hide under one of the benches. I am starting to hate this “Duke” already.

“Sir Colwell,” I say, swallowing angry. “I beg you not to make such a scene.”

“Sir Colwell? She really does treat people like royalty! Tell me, how was life in England?” A boy with long blond hair pulled back in a ponytail caresses my chin. I recoil, and he turns me toward him, so all I can do is stare into his deep green eyes. I cringe away, and the group laughs. I wonder whatever possessed me to come to New York in the first place.

“Robin! Don’t torture her so!” I hear a female voice amid the male crowd, and then I see the person the voice belongs to. Her dark black hair hangs limp and long across her shoulders, her big brown eyes wide. “Really, embarrassing women is not a sport, though you seem to treat it so. This young lady needs a proper welcome to America. Thanks to you lot, she probably has a horrid opinion of our country already.” She extends her hand. “My name is Emily Hawthorne. I apologize for their rudeness.” She sends the group of boys a death glare, but they only laugh in her face.

I don’t know what to say. I’m in shock. I must be. Never before has a boy I hardly know touched me so boldly, spoke to me so freely. It was very rude. I open my mouth to thank the girl in front of me but nothing domes out.

“Oh dear,” Emily says. “Are you okay? Did Seth… do anything to you?”

“Seth?”

“I saw you walking in with him. He didn’t try to charm himself into your dress with petty one-liners, did he?”

Seth. Duke Colwell. I turn towards him, and he gives me a wink. I do not know what to say.

Thankfully, Emily has enough words for the both of us. “Oh, you poor thing! Here, we must sit away from those horrible monsters.” She leads me to a section of desks not far away from the men. A group of girls sit there, head bent over notebooks, conversing. As Emily is about to introduce me to them, a door slams shut at the front of the classroom. A graying man hobbles into the center of the room, a long parchment in his hand. The class silences as he clears his throat. I remember that I am in university. I’d almost forgotten.

“Hello, and welcome to British Literature 001. We will be reading and studying many books and authors renowned in England. There will be no -” he coughs, and I hear a snicker, “no disruptions in my class.” He drones on, and I find it hard to concentrate on anything but his face, which is stretched and gaunt. He looks to be eighty years old. I wonder why he’s still teaching. Shouldn’t he retire? I’m afraid he will drop dead before my eyes.

Emily leans over to me and the professor takes no notice. “I really am sorry about their behavior,” she says, flicking a finger towards the boys, who are pretending to be fascinated in what the professor is saying. “They don’t mean harm. Everyone’s excited about the new exchange student; Seth just wanted to be the first to meet her. He’s quite the gloater.”

“Well, it’s not like he found me,” I say, thinking back to how we met. I curtsied to him. I’m such a louse.

“Oh, don’t be modest.” She says. Her expression reminds me of Felicity, with her mischievous ways. I wonder if Emily is anything like her. “Seth finds a way to every girl’s heart one way or another, only to mangle it and leave it broken. Even so, he has at least ten girls fawning over him daily.” I see bitterness and hurt in her eyes, and I wonder why. And then I remind myself that it’s not my place to ask, not my business to know.

I feign interest in the professor’s words so I don’t have to respond to Emily’s comments. She doesn’t seem to mind, as she’s lost in her thoughts already. I am, too. Already, I’m being dragged into drama. Will I ever escape from it?

The professor introduces himself as Professor Gray. I eye his graying hair, his molted skin, and approve. He speaks about what we will study, and scribbles on the board, telling us what to bring for the next class. At the end of class, he instructs everyone to go home and read. He does not specify what we have to read. I am confused. Someone raises their hand, and I feel that my question will be answered.

It is one of the cronies that hangs around Seth. He is scrawnier than the others, and he wears glasses. He pushes them against his forehead nervously. “Professor? What is the parchment for?”

From my desk, I see the Professor’s furrowed eyebrows as he looks about. I can hear his thought process clearly. Parchment? What parchment? This child must be seeing things, for there is no parchment – Oh! He jumps as his eyes set on the paper in his hand. Trying to hide his embarrassment, he says, “Ah! Thank you for reminding me! Role call!”

Everyone is called save for me. Emily answers with a crisp “Present!”, and Seth exclaims, “Here!” when his name is called. I find that the scrawny boy’s name is Matthew Hamilton. The boy who cupped my chin so willingly is Robin Clark. When the professor reaches the end of the list, he squints. “We also have with us an exchange student from England.” He says slowly. “Gemma Doyle of London, pleases stand.”

I do, warily, and the whole class turns toward me. A blush rises on my cheeks, until my face matches my hair. “Everyone please give Gemma a warm welcome.” A few mumbles of “Hi, Gemma,” follow, and Professor Gray seems satisfied. “Alright, well, now that we know that everyone is here… you all can leave.” I am still standing. I grab my books. Emily follows me as I make my way towards the park. I find that I do not mind.

A/N: Hi. I am rusty in writing fanfiction, as I haven’t in ages and that was only with mangas and video games, but I believe that this one is off to a good start. I am inspired by the story of the Gemma Doyle series and I refuse to see it end. Please R&R; I’d be very grateful to hear your comments! Thanks, Serina.

Friends Only

Sun, 01 Jun 2008 04:19:13 GMT

my name is serina imogen.
i think too much about things.
i like to write more than anything else.
except reading, actually.
fandoms are listed in intro post.
comment here to be added.
thank you <3

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