For some reason, this really long example didn't attach earlier. No worries, for I am merciless and implacable. Here we have a whole room full of potential POV's, but we stick with one. Everyone else is also responding to conflict just as if they were POV characters - and later some are - and the trick is to get inside of their heads and let them see, or not see, their motivations and their responses to the world around them.
~~~
From Ties of Bood and Bone: The Second Book of Binding
~~~
Clean and dressed, Alerich went in search of Odette’s advertised breakfast. He was wearing a pair of black jeans and a red, cotton button-down shirt with the top two buttons undone, his longish, black hair still damp. The rented house was large—but not so large that he could not find the dining room in short order. Even still, he was the last one to breakfast and his grandmother’s gunmetal-blue eyes narrowed slightly with disapproval as he entered. Bloody wonderful.
“I’m glad to see you have finally decided to join us, Alerich.” Hildreth’s tone was arid, her clipped Dutch accent still present—even after decades of living in England. Her crisp, white hair was pulled up into some complicated coiffure of Odette’s doing.
Quiet conversation around the table stopped for a moment, all eyes on Alerich. His blood ran cold at the shifting sight of the demon, sitting in what passed for its human form near his father’s end of the table eating roasted bone marrow, and Alerich wondered if someone had died last night. At least no one was trying to make him eat the victim—this time. Today, it seemed to prefer to be mostly male, and his form was something close to stable, though even as he watched, it changed subtly.
Arariel.
The demon crunched bone like a candy cane, the sound making Alerich’s skin prickle unpleasantly—remembering other times, other bones, other victims—and smirked at Alerich for a moment before its gaze slid back to Elspeth, covetous. Greedy. Alerich’s twin was the first girl to be born into the Ashimar line in five generations, but his sorcerer father would not give her to the demon. His relationship with Alerich might be fraught, but he doted on Elspeth. In this, at least, she was safe.
Alerich looked away, looked toward his friends, toward comfort, and tried not to smile. Almost all eyes were on Alerich. Fitz, faced toward Hildreth’s man, Thorne, was still speaking. “…and no celery, my good man. Terrible thing to do to good vodka, I must say.”
The tall, liveried servant wore a carefully blank expression as he bowed and slipped away to fulfil Fitz’s request.
Thomas waved his hand at Fitz from across the table, bringing his attention to the rest of the room.
The deaf wizard surveyed the situation, sighed dramatically, and fell silent.
Alerich crossed the spacious room to the end of the table before his grandmother could find anything more scathing to say and kissed her soft cheek. She had the powdery scent of expensive perfume. “My apologies, Grandmother. I’m delighted that you’re here.” And he was. She was the woman who had raised him and protected him after his mother’s death, as much as she could. He was certain she had no idea why his father wanted him poisoned. He just wished she wasn’t so obsessed with this damn wedding.
Or so insistent that it was happening.
Hildreth looked placated and the quiet talk around the table resumed. “I missed you, my dear boy. With the wedding so close, there are too many details to be left to chance.”
And they were off to the races. Alerich sat down beside his grandmother and sighed. “Just dress me in that dinner jacket she’s picked out and stand me upright at the end of the aisle. Isn’t that my right as the groom, to leave the details to you ladies?”
A brief look of annoyance flashed across Hildreth’s face. “It would please me if you were more involved.” She took a sip of her tea. “And if you would stop dodging Celia’s calls.”
Odette set a plate in front of Alerich, and he dug into his potatoes to buy a moment, ignoring the meats with Arariel crunching so nearby. Celia was carrying tales to his grandmother, again. He chewed and swallowed, forming his next words with care. “Celia and I are not compatible, you know. We don’t actually like talking to each other.” Granted, most of the dislike seemed to be on his side of the phone. Celia was certainly happy to ring his number as it pleased her.
Hildreth made a dismissive noise. “You hardly know each other. I hardly knew your grandfather when we married, and we came to love each other very much.”
At the other end of the table, Alerich’s father, Magnus, coughed, and for an instant, Alerich caught a look of derision on his face.
Hildreth raised her chin and her voice. “Do you have a problem, Magnus?”
Seated between their father and Thomas, Elspeth shrank in on herself just a little bit, as if to make herself less of a target without making it too obvious that was what she was doing.
Magnus waved his eagle-headed cane as if waving away the question. “Of course not, Mother.” The rage that simmered in the depths of his midnight-blue eyes said anything but. Alerich had seen it before but did not know the full story behind it. Given the way Grandmother beat Elspeth, he suspected her violence was the source.
Hildreth held his gaze, imperious, implacable, until at last Magnus looked away, anger and resignation eating away at him, and he raised his teacup for a drink as a barrier between them. Hildreth, disdainful of her son, turned again to face Alerich. “As I was saying…”
…she was sending him to his doom.
“…you will come to know Celia better in time. Have patience and an open mind.”
Alerich nodded and accidentally took a bite of bacon, the meat tasting heavy and greasy on his tongue. He cast the rest of the piece aside. What choice did he have? Wizard matrons arranged marriages for their Bloodlines and guarded them jealously. All wizard marriages were arranged, from those of the Great Houses that sat on the Wizards’ Council like House Ashimar, all the way down the social, political, and magical scale to the Minor Houses that served them, like those that Odette and Thorne belonged to.
Like the one his mother, Carine, had belonged to.
Thorne returned with Fitz’s bloody mary, sans celery stalk, and Fitz’s face lit up with hungover delight. “Now there is a fine beverage! Thank you, my good man.” He took the glass and gifted himself with a long, appreciative drink.
Thomas smiled and waved at Fitz, catching his attention, and began signing, his chestnut-brown hands sketching words in British Sign Language with the grace of long practice. “What do you think about—”
Magnus set his teacup down with a sharp click. “None of that handwaving nonsense at my table. If you have something to say you will say it so that everyone can understand.”
Fitz had been looking at Thomas and so missed what Magnus said. He raised his hands and sketched out a quick, “What?”
Magnus brought his fist down on the table, making everyone and the plates jump. “What did I just say?” Fitz flinched and paled, turning his wary attention fully to the man.
Arariel looked amused.
Alerich was on his feet before the thought caught up to him. “He can’t hear you, and you know it!” That hadn’t taken long.
~~~
From Ties of Bood and Bone: The Second Book of Binding
~~~
Clean and dressed, Alerich went in search of Odette’s advertised breakfast. He was wearing a pair of black jeans and a red, cotton button-down shirt with the top two buttons undone, his longish, black hair still damp. The rented house was large—but not so large that he could not find the dining room in short order. Even still, he was the last one to breakfast and his grandmother’s gunmetal-blue eyes narrowed slightly with disapproval as he entered. Bloody wonderful.
“I’m glad to see you have finally decided to join us, Alerich.” Hildreth’s tone was arid, her clipped Dutch accent still present—even after decades of living in England. Her crisp, white hair was pulled up into some complicated coiffure of Odette’s doing.
Quiet conversation around the table stopped for a moment, all eyes on Alerich. His blood ran cold at the shifting sight of the demon, sitting in what passed for its human form near his father’s end of the table eating roasted bone marrow, and Alerich wondered if someone had died last night. At least no one was trying to make him eat the victim—this time. Today, it seemed to prefer to be mostly male, and his form was something close to stable, though even as he watched, it changed subtly.
Arariel.
The demon crunched bone like a candy cane, the sound making Alerich’s skin prickle unpleasantly—remembering other times, other bones, other victims—and smirked at Alerich for a moment before its gaze slid back to Elspeth, covetous. Greedy. Alerich’s twin was the first girl to be born into the Ashimar line in five generations, but his sorcerer father would not give her to the demon. His relationship with Alerich might be fraught, but he doted on Elspeth. In this, at least, she was safe.
Alerich looked away, looked toward his friends, toward comfort, and tried not to smile. Almost all eyes were on Alerich. Fitz, faced toward Hildreth’s man, Thorne, was still speaking. “…and no celery, my good man. Terrible thing to do to good vodka, I must say.”
The tall, liveried servant wore a carefully blank expression as he bowed and slipped away to fulfil Fitz’s request.
Thomas waved his hand at Fitz from across the table, bringing his attention to the rest of the room.
The deaf wizard surveyed the situation, sighed dramatically, and fell silent.
Alerich crossed the spacious room to the end of the table before his grandmother could find anything more scathing to say and kissed her soft cheek. She had the powdery scent of expensive perfume. “My apologies, Grandmother. I’m delighted that you’re here.” And he was. She was the woman who had raised him and protected him after his mother’s death, as much as she could. He was certain she had no idea why his father wanted him poisoned. He just wished she wasn’t so obsessed with this damn wedding.
Or so insistent that it was happening.
Hildreth looked placated and the quiet talk around the table resumed. “I missed you, my dear boy. With the wedding so close, there are too many details to be left to chance.”
And they were off to the races. Alerich sat down beside his grandmother and sighed. “Just dress me in that dinner jacket she’s picked out and stand me upright at the end of the aisle. Isn’t that my right as the groom, to leave the details to you ladies?”
A brief look of annoyance flashed across Hildreth’s face. “It would please me if you were more involved.” She took a sip of her tea. “And if you would stop dodging Celia’s calls.”
Odette set a plate in front of Alerich, and he dug into his potatoes to buy a moment, ignoring the meats with Arariel crunching so nearby. Celia was carrying tales to his grandmother, again. He chewed and swallowed, forming his next words with care. “Celia and I are not compatible, you know. We don’t actually like talking to each other.” Granted, most of the dislike seemed to be on his side of the phone. Celia was certainly happy to ring his number as it pleased her.
Hildreth made a dismissive noise. “You hardly know each other. I hardly knew your grandfather when we married, and we came to love each other very much.”
At the other end of the table, Alerich’s father, Magnus, coughed, and for an instant, Alerich caught a look of derision on his face.
Hildreth raised her chin and her voice. “Do you have a problem, Magnus?”
Seated between their father and Thomas, Elspeth shrank in on herself just a little bit, as if to make herself less of a target without making it too obvious that was what she was doing.
Magnus waved his eagle-headed cane as if waving away the question. “Of course not, Mother.” The rage that simmered in the depths of his midnight-blue eyes said anything but. Alerich had seen it before but did not know the full story behind it. Given the way Grandmother beat Elspeth, he suspected her violence was the source.
Hildreth held his gaze, imperious, implacable, until at last Magnus looked away, anger and resignation eating away at him, and he raised his teacup for a drink as a barrier between them. Hildreth, disdainful of her son, turned again to face Alerich. “As I was saying…”
…she was sending him to his doom.
“…you will come to know Celia better in time. Have patience and an open mind.”
Alerich nodded and accidentally took a bite of bacon, the meat tasting heavy and greasy on his tongue. He cast the rest of the piece aside. What choice did he have? Wizard matrons arranged marriages for their Bloodlines and guarded them jealously. All wizard marriages were arranged, from those of the Great Houses that sat on the Wizards’ Council like House Ashimar, all the way down the social, political, and magical scale to the Minor Houses that served them, like those that Odette and Thorne belonged to.
Like the one his mother, Carine, had belonged to.
Thorne returned with Fitz’s bloody mary, sans celery stalk, and Fitz’s face lit up with hungover delight. “Now there is a fine beverage! Thank you, my good man.” He took the glass and gifted himself with a long, appreciative drink.
Thomas smiled and waved at Fitz, catching his attention, and began signing, his chestnut-brown hands sketching words in British Sign Language with the grace of long practice. “What do you think about—”
Magnus set his teacup down with a sharp click. “None of that handwaving nonsense at my table. If you have something to say you will say it so that everyone can understand.”
Fitz had been looking at Thomas and so missed what Magnus said. He raised his hands and sketched out a quick, “What?”
Magnus brought his fist down on the table, making everyone and the plates jump. “What did I just say?” Fitz flinched and paled, turning his wary attention fully to the man.
Arariel looked amused.
Alerich was on his feet before the thought caught up to him. “He can’t hear you, and you know it!” That hadn’t taken long.
