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The Consul looked at the thin face, cheekbones pressing against sallow flesh, eyes large but hooded in deep hollows, thin lips set in a permanent twitch of muscle too downturned to be called even a cynical smile, the hairline not so much receding as ravaged by radiation, and he felt he was looking at a man who had been ill for years. Still, the Consul was surprised that behind that mask of concealed pain there remained the physical echo of the boy in the man – the faintest remnants of the round face, fair skin, and soft mouth which had belonged to a younger, healthier, less cynical Lenar Hoyt.
Impressive example of descriptive writing for characters
In lieu of Hoyt’s wasted appearance, Kassad was brown, obviously fit, and whip-handle lean, with strands of muscle showing in shoulder, wrist, and throat. The Colonel’s eyes were small, dark, and as all-encompassing as the lenses of some primitive video camera. His face was all angles: shadows, planes, and facets. Not gaunt like Father Hoyt’s, merely carved from cold stone. A thin line of beard along his jawline served to accent the sharpness of his countenance as surely as blood on a knife blade.
Kassad’s voice was soft but the Consul did not fail to notice that even the Colonel’s silences commanded attention.
Martin Silenus was short and visibly out of shape. Countering Kassad’s stone-cut features, the poet’s face was as mobile and expressive as an Earth primate’s. His voice was a loud, profane rasp. There was something, thought the Consul, almost pleasantly demonic about Martin Silenus, with his ruddy cheeks, broad mouth, pitched eyebrows, sharp ears, and constantly moving hands sporting fingers long enough to serve a concert pianist. Or a strangler. The poet’s silver hair had been cropped into rough-hewn bangs.
the next guest at the table exuded an immediate and equally impressive sense of intelligent reticence.
Sol Weintraub looked up upon introduction and the Consul noted the short gray beard, lined forehead, and sad, luminous eyes of the well-known scholar. The Consul had heard tales of the Wandering Jew and his hopeless quest, but he was shocked to realize that the old man now held the infant in his arms – his daughter Rachel, no more than a few weeks old. The Consul looked away.
only woman at the table was Brawne Lamia. When introduced, the detective stared at the Consul with such intensity that he could feel the pressure of her gaze even after she looked away.
Brawne Lamia was no taller than the poet two chairs to her right, but even her loose corduroy shipsuit did not conceal the heavy layers of muscle on her compact form. Black curls reached to her shoulders, her eyebrows were two dark lines dabbed horizontally across a wide brow, and her nose was solid and sharp, intensifying the aquiline quality of her stare. Lamia’s mouth was wide and expressive to the point of being sensuous, curled slightly at the corners in a slight smile which might be cruel
The woman’s dark eyes seemed to dare the observer to discover which was the case.
The group at the table stirred slightly.
Her voice had a husky, throaty quality which strangely stirred
Oört
His voice seemed as fatigued as his expression.
The crew clones had served wine; he wished it had been whiskey.
frowned.
‘If the serious fighting starts too soon,’ she said, ‘perhaps the authorities will not allow us to land.’
Dialogue formatting example
Sunlight found its way past folds in his cowl to fall on yellowish skin.
murmured
intoned
abruptly broke off
stirred
as if trying to retrieve an earlier strand of thought,
‘Well . . .’ began Father Hoyt and then trailed off.
they stabilized the optics and swept the area in a programmed search pattern. Suddenly the image froze, blurred, expanded, and steadied.
comlog
datasphere
murmured
patiently shook his head.
snapped
agreed
‘Look,’ he said, ‘couldn’t we change the rules this once – I mean, given the war scare and all? And just land near the Time Tombs or wherever and get it over with?’
The pause from the break gap from ‘he said’ being in there does the work
shook his head.
Father Hoyt frowned
smiled slightly.
a nascent sense of humour.
laughed
swept away
asked
raised eyebrows and looked around the table.
shrugged.
shook his head,
made an expansive gesture.
he concluded,
absently stroked his beard.
‘Among us we represent islands of time as well as separate oceans of perspective.
with no emotion.
grinned.
