Creative Writing Stuff!

Sooo this is something that I did for a Creative Writing assignment - it's "describe your main character's hands, eyes, or posture in one or two (or three) paragraphs.  Try to convey as much about his/ her personality as possible."  I did Shyasha Rinkari.  Hope you like it. :D


Four and a half thousand years can do a lot to a person. When I was born, for example, my eyes were hazel-green. I died of heartbreak when I was seventeen, but the gods chose to spare my life in exchange for my sight. When I re-awoke, my vision was gone, and my irises were downy white, according to everyone I asked. When I regained my sight, my eyes found color – my left one is purple, and my right one is yellow. These are known as triple-lucky eyes. Lucky eyes are two-tone, normal-colored eyes - blue and green, black and brown. Double-lucky eyes are the ones that are a combination of two abnormal colors, or one weird color and one normal one, and are usually caused by enchantments – orange and pink, red and white, blue and yellow, black and purple. Triple-lucky eyes are purple and yellow only – they are contrasting colors that are abnormal outside of enchantments. It has also been said that one who wears triple-lucky eyes have been marked by the gods. I do not know whether my survival has been based on luck or the will of the gods – whichever it is, I thank them for keeping me from the death I face on a daily basis.
As I have to do rough, physical tasks every day, my hands are not in the greatest shape. Well, they are fine by Ranger standards – downright smooth for a Ranger, in fact. However, if my mother the Queen saw them, I am quite certain that she would lose her head in frustration and also several limbs. I have calluses in the inner joints of the middle three fingers of my right hand – an occupational hazard of being a Ranger armed with a bow for four and a half thousand years. These calluses will never fade, no matter how many creams that my mother makes me try. My hands have plenty of cuts – nothing but dragon magic and my own fairy magic will heal those, and I refuse to let them mend, especially the big X that crosses my left palm. This is how I am recognized as a Dragon Friend, especially now that the Age of Dragons has come to a close. Poachers can attempt to imitate this scar, as can anyone who wants to see a dragon for real. It will not work. Only dragons can mark their friends. No ink or knife is made from the claw of a dragon king, the fire of its mother’s queen, and the blood of the wearer’s palm. I am the only being alive who has been trusted enough by the dragons to wear this scar on my palm, and I will not misuse it.

Whenever I am forced to go back to the palace, be it for a gala that I am forced to be present at or a meeting with the king that I am mandated to attend, my mother seeks me out and demands to know why my posture is so horrible, and why I choose to slouch all the time. The truth of the matter is that I do not slouch all the time. I only slouch in Mother’s presence to irk her and in Telsiel’s presence because he irks me. Mother hates me on purpose, and Telsiel has no reason to love me. When I am with the dragons, I must stand as tall as possible, just so the dragons can see me properly – at five feet and eleven inches, I am almost too short for them to see. When I am traveling the back roads, I am forced to bend over – unlike with the dragons, I am too tall for most of the forest, and I must make sure not to hit my head on something.