The "Please Improve My Writing" Thread

I didn't mean me, I meant with the game. Does it seem real enough? Reasonable anger/sadness/happiness? No jarring shifts? No strange drops of emotion? I mean, does it feel like it's working well? It doesn't seem like anyone's an over the top emotional wreck? It doesn't feel like everyone is too much of a silent badass that hides all their emotions? Are their feelings understandable or seem justified?

You could also pick the path where you don't get a pegasus rider, kill Arc's sister, keep Lute, but Kress is miserable and many Beorc are massacred.

Also, what do you think of the characters? Hate anyone? Love anyone? Often forget the existence of anyone? Have incredibly mixed feelings about anyone?

I like hearing anything you have to say about Legend of Heroes because you're the only one that plays it and you tend to keep your thoughts to yourself as opposed to some of my more vocal players.

Lets see my characters are either

Kind and Motherly

Overly sensitive to any sort of negativity

Catie like they defiantly come across as in your face with there friendliness but it's hard to hate them and you can't help but like them.

Oh loves animals and always have some type of animal with them.

The go with the flow man I don't feel like being here.

A bit snarky

Tend to clash with authority figures alot actually like not even when I am using a character like Bowser. Just most if not all my characters tend to just dislike or distrust authority figures.

Secretly smart or more capable then they let on.

Hot headed and quick temper

Oh and always trying to hook up with Mallys characters.

Is there anything you giys think I missing?

My characters just get progressively more terrible as time goes on.

This is still being used correct?

Just curious.

What about my writing?

I'll have something up; maybe not tonight, but tomorrow. This is as simple as posting a few paragraphs, correct?

The piano stood adjacent to the window; though once clear artwork, the rain from the morning dribbled down its frame, each a river that joined into one. Dust rested snugly in the windowsill. Though Dawn had yet to awaken, Carver was seated. His eyes were focused on the notes in front of him, the feel of his fingers upon the keys.

They danced, they pressed; it was a dance only he knew the steps to. No other could do this. It was the thought that comforted him, and the one that kept him going though his fingers ached. Practice. Practice was all he needed. It was almost complete. So enthralled was he, that he did not hear the door open, nor what slipped in.

It crept with gentle feet. Carver closed his eyes. It creapt with a lingering gaze. His fingers slowed, as did the song. A drop of sweat splattered between his feet. It reached out. Carver's aching hands stopped. He tensed as he felt the hand on his shoulder.

"I paid for tonight's dinner," the woman said. "it'll be cold soon." Carver opened his eyes. When had she arrived, to make nary a sound. "I lost myself. Again."

"Again." she said, and retracted her hand. Carver seemed to pause, as though contemplating the meaning of the word. Had she disagreed with him, or encouraged him to continue his practice. "I'll be down in a minute, Jane."

Jane did not budge. Carver chuckled. "I mean it this time." he could almost feel her stare, then the footsteps as she turned to leave. When the door closed, the pianist rested his fingers on the keys. Ten minutes. It was all he needed. Carver became lost to the world for the tenth time.

I am not a good person to give feedback on writing because I hate reading "good" writing, but I can tell you what I think if you want.