Some Thoughts, and an Excerpt from TVOG

I haven't been avoiding this blog on purpose.  But when life has you by the neck, it's usually best to get out of the noose before browsing the internet.

That being said, I have almost zero to say; no updates, no pithy posts concerning writing, (alas) no extraordinarily eloquent exhortations.  Right now we're renovating the house in preparation for our move, and that pushes out pretty much everything else—including writing and blogging.

That doesn't include reading, thankfully.  A fellow missionary kid loaned me a omnibus of The Chronicles of Narnia a while ago, and I finished devouring it yesterday.  Ah!  Such goodness!

Aside from those random notes, I figured I'd give you something to chew on over Christmas break.  (More likely than not, this is the last time you'll hear from me in a while!)

*drumroll*

An excerpt from the Voice of God!

This scene takes place at the highest point of Myrkvar, at a building called the Seat of God.  Edon, the main character, is coming before the High Presbytery of Myrk for the first time.  (The Presbytery pretty much governs everyone in Myrk and rules from the Seat of God.)

And again, this is woefully unedited and rather choppy.  The description is a bit much and needs to be refined. ^_^  Thoughts on the whole would be appreciated!

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A massive arch without doors guarded the front entrance, and into it were carved many symbols that Edon didn't recognize.  The tall walls of the hall fanned out from both sides, pocketed with designs and reliefs, so many of which that Edon didn't see half of them before they had reached the arch. 

On either side of the arch—which was wide enough for three men to pass without touching each other—stood two men. They wore simple white tunics and trousers, and wore a white cap on their heads. They both held smooth, bone-white staffs.

 “Welcome,” one said. “Sentinel Iorkus?”

The Sentinel knelt and touched his forehead to the stone floor before the arch. “I come in the name of God.”

The man inclined his head slightly, and enunciated his words carefully. “Welcome in the most holy Name of God. The Presbytery expects thee, and thy companions.”

“Thank ye.”

The man bowed and gestured inside. Sentinel Iorkus rose and unwound his shoes, motioning for the rest to do likewise. Edon pulled off the straps holding his shoe in place and kicked them off, following Iorkus, who walked reverently beneath the arch.

Edon found himself in what felt like an ancient temple built by supernatural hands. Massive, serrated columns of stone held up the straight curve of the ceiling, which didn't quite come to a point; three quarters of the way, the roof cut off and twilight shone through, a path of silver leading to the end of the hall.

The large stones of the floor were in a checkerboard pattern, alternating a glowing white and an obsidian black, and the pillars likewise alternated between black and white.

When Edon reached the end of this trail of silver, the hall billowed out into a perfect circle with no roof at all. The floor was completely white, with a solitary black star in the center, edged with gold. Around this massive circle there were walls painted with frescoes of the ages; battles and famines and centuries of peace. Some paintings were chipped in age, and some glowed as if they had been painted the day before. Directly in front of Edon, held up on a pedestal of white stone, was a larger-than-life replica of the Sacred Sword, plated in gold and beaten until it gleamed. Beneath it there was an empty throne of white stone draped in purple. The arms of the throne were carved as two roaring lions, and the pedestal holding the Sacred Sword composed the back.

On either side of the throne, smaller seats of a similar make curved symmetrically around the silver-lit circle of the hall. Counting the throne, there were forty-nine seats, seven sevens: twenty-four on either side of the great throne. Upon those seats sat forty-eight men robed in white.

And the eyes of every single man were fixed upon the newcomers.

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Yeah, sometimes I go to town on the descriptions, at the cost of writing quality.  But hopefully the image of the silver-lit Seat of God is now as vivid in your mind as it was in mine.

What about you?  Have any awe-inspiring locations in your writings?