POV Adjustments
The Point of View in chapter 4 of Dragon Ink needs some help. It’s told through the male perspective, however the female is doing all the talking. I’ll be working on adjustments that will refocus the scene through the male’s eyes.
AFTER: Chapter 4
A breeze rolled over the pale wrinkled skin of Welglen’s new incarnation but didn’t cool his anger.
She’d seen him.
After centuries of masquerading, the spell weakened. He had to know why. He stood behind the group and waited for the human’s belief system to repair the damage.
She leaned against the table, raised one hand to shade her eyes from the hanging light, and squinted forward. Her voice carried out the partially opened door. “What the hell?” she asked.
Two young males walked into the tavern, trailing the burnt scent of ganja. One turned in her direction. “You okay, dude?” he asked.
She shook her head, short blond hairs escaping from a loose knot. “I just saw a guy disappear. There, then… gone.”
“Probably wind,” he answered. “We’re supposed to get a few gusts.”
Her attention moved from the window to the young male’s face. “You think the wind blew someone away?” She slid back into the booth.
The other male spread his arms wide. “Once the wind lifted me and carried me home.”
The tavern keeper blocked Welglen’s view and addressed the woman. “Do I have to watch you tonight?”
“I’m fine. I guess.” She scanned past his elderly form, for the young man Welglen had been a few minutes before. Not until she returned to her tasks and her drink, did he allow his flight muscles to calm.
Oblivious to the real world, her thin body relaxed into her seat, and she drank in deep pulls. The surprise of her direct gaze continued to charge through him like the aftereffects of battle. His wings strained against his disguise. He craved flight, but he’d have to endure the torture of waiting until he knew what drew him to her.
A faint scent of industriousness rippled from her direction. Her face morphed from one emotion to another while her fingers flew across the keys at a pace that he guessed barely kept up with her thoughts.
Fear registered first. Power erupted in the slight movements of her shoulders. Her head ducked from imagined attacks, nearly knocking a fresh drink over.
He understood the role of the chronicler. Storytellers served an important role in all cultures. Did she use her skills to teach and entertain? Or did she mix her facts with fiction in the way of sorcerers?
The shield of males next to him moved away, forcing Welglen further back into the darkness. He watched at an angle. If the spells weakened, there wasn’t much time left. He needed to find the warrior.
She looked up from her work and stared absently around the small room. She raised the glass again to her lips and searched over the rim in his direction.
He was her prey.
He preferred the reverse.
BEFORE: Chapter 4
A cool breeze brushed over the bare scalp of Welglen’s new identity and sent a shiver down his spine, contradicting the sudden heat his rapid heartbeat radiated. He focused on slow breaths, matching his movement to those around him, and waited for the human’s belief system to repair the damage.
“What the hell?” Her voice carried out the partially opened door. She leaned against the table, raised one hand to shade her eyes from the overhead light, and squinted forward.
One of the elders inside the bar raised a fuzzy eyebrow in the woman’s direction. “Are you okay?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I just saw a guy disappear. There, then… gone.”
“Probably the wind,” the man said. “We’re supposed to get a few gusts this evening. Not like when I grew up here though. I remember the old Sonoma falls. Autumn would rage in with a force of color and wind, bringing the first rains. Much better than the endless fire seasons we have now.”
Her attention moved from the window to the old man’s face. “You think the wind blew a man away?” She slid back into the booth.
“I remember the wind lifting me and pushing me home from grammar school,” the other man said.
The bartender blocked Welglen’s view as she walked over and addressed the woman. “Do I have to watch you tonight?”
“No, I’m fine. I guess.” Her smile fell the instant the other woman moved away. “I hoped I could actually get some work done.”
She scanned the area around him, looking for the man Welglen had been a few minutes before. Not until he saw her shoulders rise and fall in a deep breath, and she returned to her tasks and her drink, did he allow his flight muscles to cool.
Almost discovered. After centuries of masquerading, the instant when he should have blended, shock had forced him forward. On the strongest day of her bizarre pull.
The woman stared out the window but didn’t see him. Oblivious to the real world, her body relaxed back into her seat, while the surprise of her direct gaze continued to charge through him like the aftereffects of battle.
A faint scent of industriousness rippled from her direction. Her face morphed from one emotion to another while her fingers flew across the keys at a pace that he guessed barely kept up with her thoughts. Fear registered first. Power erupted in the slight movements of her shoulders. Her head ducked from imagined attacks.
He understood the role of the chronicler. Storytellers served an important role in all cultures. Did she use her skills to teach and entertain? Or did she mix her facts with fiction and call them truths in the way of sorcerers?
The shield of men moved away, forcing Welglen back into the darkness. He watched at an angle that kept her in sight. He’d remain at his station as he had during the past two moons and wait.
She looked up from her work and stared absently around the small room. She raised the glass again to her lips and searched over the rim in his direction.
He was her prey.
He preferred the reverse.