WiPpet Wednesday: gloom and (impending) doom

Sorry for my total uselessness at getting around the blogs last week.  I've been in a frankly ridiculous "blah" mood for a while.  I think it has something to do with the weathers or the seasons or something.  Either way it's irritating.  I'm getting nothing done.

Well, not strictly true.  I'm trying to keep my hands busy so I've been making some jewellery for my mother's birthday.  Well, was, until I ran out of 4mm green bicones, so I have to wait for more to arrive...

The flowers are a necklace (hence being so irritating when I ran out); the diagonal stripes are a bracelet.  She also wants some glasses cords for when her glasses make a break for it, so I'm trying to figure out how best to approach those (have all the materials I need, anyway, including some "how much??" non-tarnish silver wire).

Oh, and a tiny anvil.

It's very heavy.  I think you could brain someone quite effectively with it.

WiPpet Wednesday

WiPpet Wednesday is hosted by the always-lovely K. L. Schwengel, and is a blog hop where participants share sections of their works in progress (hence the name).  All entries should relate to the date in some way, either via simple means or complicated WiPpet Maths.  You can find out more and read the other entries over here.

It's the 16th September 2015, so 1 + 6 = 7; 2 + 0 + 1 = 3 and 3 - 5 = 2.  7 + 2 = 9 for the convoluted maths, or simply 9 paragraphs because it's the 9th month.

The elevator has come to a stop and the doors have opened on Fayth and RQ.  It's... going about as well as you'd expect.

Five weapons of varying sizes were levelled at his face as the elevator door pinged closed behind them.  In his grip, he felt RQ tense, then lean back slightly.  The door sighed open again.

“Any sign of them yet?”  He said, forcing a smile.  “I was just telling the guards how everyone knows the secure block is at the bottom of these things.  We decided RQ was better off upstairs where they wouldn’t think of looking.”

Two guns wavered, then lowered.  The other three sets of fingers edged closer to their triggers.

And still RQ remained silent.  He could break away, make a dash for the safety of the guards and crewmen and there’d be nothing Fayth could do to stop him.  He could scream, yell how he’d been abducted yet again, but he stared at the floor and didn’t say a word.  Fayth should feel grateful, he knew he should, but it was downright irritating; his life was at least partially in the hands of a man who acted more like a spoiled brat.

A third gun slowly lowered, its large owner giving him a long, searching stare.  “Where’s his escort?”

“Two came up here,” Fayth said without missing a beat.  “I guess by the stairs, if they’re not here yet.  The other two said they’d stay down there just in case.”

The speaker looked unconvinced.  Fayth didn’t blame him; he was being incredibly unconvincing.  “There’s nothing on the radar.”

“I bet there was nothing on your radar last time either.  If you could just get out of my way...”

The gun snapped up again.

Perhaps Fayth should stop talking now.

WiPpet Wednesday: pretty distractions

Despite not actually liking dolls because I find them disturbing, I've wanted an asian ball-jointed doll for a while.  And for a while, I mean "at least seven years".  I think I like them because the kind I'm interested in aren't intended to look cutesy.  They're intended to look like grown men and women, which somehow makes them significantly less disturbing.

So somehow, to commemorate me actually completing Ready, Set, WRITE without dropping out and with actually increasing bit-by-bit the amount I wrote, I finally ordered myself one.

It's a tiny bit terrifying.

But the funny thing is...  after over seven years of waiting and wishing, and then finally ordering myself one...

About ten days after that, I ordered another.  So after all this time, I'm now waiting for two!  And I have to admit, I'm particularly looking forward to the second...  He's a limited edition re-run of an old model, and the reason why I ordered him is because the moment I saw him, I realised he looks uncannily like one of my characters.  The character in question is Milos, and he's not a character I ever expected to be able to find, being as he is this guy to the right, a dokkalfa with a quite specific face shape (his nose and jaw in particular don't seem that common...).

So of course, I couldn't resist...

And now I have to wait at least three months for him to even be made!  *whimper*  Even when he gets here, there's so much work that'll need to be done: he'll need eyes (yep, scary...) and hair, and I'll have to paint his face so he's not just plain dark grey resin...

I'm actually really looking forward to it!  Enough that I've finally started working on 2012's NaNo again, which I always felt a little bad about never finishing, particularly since it left a gaping hole in the continuity of the shorter stories.  And best of all, I'll finally to write one scene that's been in my head all this time and throw Milos's partner Alex off a tower block.  *grins*

As to whether doll!Milos will get an Alex as well...  well, I'm categorically not looking for one...  *cough*

WiPpet Wednesday

It's WiPpet Wednesday, a weekly blog hop organised by the always-lovely K. L. Schwengel that shares snippets from participants' works in progress where every entry relates in some way to the date, either by simple means or complicated WiPpet Maths.  You find out more, can read other posts and join in yourself by signing up over here.

Today is the 9th September, 09/09, and the maths is simple: 9 + 9 for 18 sentences that follow not-quite-directly on from last week, but near enough.  Fayth considered shooting RQ in the legs and carrying him instead, but didn't feel too inclined towards being bled on...  (I'm sure RQ appreciated it too.)

Two corridors along he found what he was looking for.  RQ stopped struggling, standing sullenly as far from Fayth as his reach would allow, while Fayth pounded at the elevator call button and prayed it wasn’t occupied when it arrived.

“You don’t understand.”

Fayth thumped the button again, hoping it disguised the way he jumped at the words.  “I don’t understand what?”

RQ wouldn’t look at him.  “Anything.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but the ping of the opening door beat him to it.  There was no point reasoning with RQ now anyway, the determined set of his jaw screamed that he wouldn’t listen to a word Fayth said.  He dragged him inside the elevator instead. 

The problem was, even sulky and obstructive, RQ was still easily the most stunning man Fayth had ever seen.  His mood reflected in the lower lip pooched out without his even realising it.  His blue-green eyes were half-closed and determinedly distant.  He still wore the clothes Fayth had left for the expected woman in his room.  If Fayth shoved him against the wall and kissed him like his life depended on it, it’d only be his own fault, looking as incredible in cheap, flimsy clothes and dangerous surroundings as he did.

Only it’d be all Fayth’s fault, not RQ’s, and he couldn’t inflict that kind of pain on him again.  Not on anyone without their implicit permission, in fact—and hadn’t that fallen flat before, with the kind of situational misreading Fayth hadn’t made since he was a teenager.

Resting his free hand on the pistol in the back of his trousers, he glared daggers at the button panel instead and swore to God that if anyone called the lift on their way to the bay floor, he’d kneecap them.

WiPpet Wednesday: gamey rambling (again) and things not at all going according to plan...

I finally did it!  I worked my little arse off and I finally got G is for Gabrys finished... although I didn't get to do much else between that, work and family time...

As a reward, I'm having a couple of days off (sorry Ais, Lirio, RQ and Fayth...) to play Metal Gear Solid V: the Phantom Pain.

I am... not very good at Metal Gear games.  I liked Metal Gear Solid 2 enough to buy it on the Vita after I had it on the original Xbox, although that may have had something to do with a certain put-upon, very dim, blond male character who spends a chunk of the game naked.  I have MGS3 on Vita mostly because it came with MGS2; I don't have MGS4 (despite it also featuring the put-upon, dim blond) because that was PS3 only and the PS4--which, like the PS3, I said I would only get if there were enough games I wanted to play to justify the cost--is not backwards compatible nor is it likely to be.  And I have MGS5: Ground Zeroes, which although I completed I unfortunately did not play enough to unlock said dim blond's level, due to being damn terrible at sneaking.

Also, I have Metal Gear Rising: Revengeance, which is actually my favourite game out of all of them, not least for featuring the same certain put-upon dim blond and for being far more my kind of game, which means lots of stabbing and no sneaking at all.  Also vast amounts of homoerotic content.  (No, I'm not kidding.)

I've also got a lot of other computer games.  And in those games, there's usually theft of some kind.  You can pickpocket and rob bodies in Assassin's Creed.  You can hack computers and steal cars in Watch_Dogs, or accidentally pilfer cheese in Skyrim.  Most RPGs encourage unsolicited entering of homes, rifling through their drawers and helping yourself to their valuables.  Even in Portal you can pick up and run away with a usually very startled sentry turret.

The Phantom Pain is probably the first game I've played where you can steal the enemy soldiers.

I am having a field day.

WiPpet Wednesday

WiPpet Wednesday is a blog hop organised by the always-brilliant K. L. Schwengel, which focuses on our Works in Progress and ties them into the date, either through simple means or more complicated WiPpet Maths.  It's a whole lot of fun filled with brilliant excerpts, and you can find out more and join in yourself here.

It's the 2nd September (02/09, woo, new month!), so my maths is just 9 - 2 = 7, for 7 paragraphs, following on from Fayth deciding that playing nice just wasn't working any longer (though it looks like it might start backfiring...)

This will make sense eventually, honest.  (Also, profanity warning.)

The guard went down with a howl, one hand scrabbling uselessly for his pistol while the other clasped his knee.  The second guard fumbled with the catches on his holster, all the while gaping at Fayth; Fayth shot him in the foot.  Without waiting for either man to get a handle on their pain long enough to process what was happening, he dashed between them and grabbed RQ’s hand.  “Come on.”

RQ jerked back in his grip, struggling to free himself.  “What the hell are you doing?!  Let me go, you fucking madman!”

Fayth tightened his grip and put a second laser hole in one of the guard’s legs for good measure.  “I’m saving your worthless life, that’s what I’m doing, and if you don’t get moving I’ll shoot you in the legs too.”

RQ paled but made no effort to follow.  It took all of Fayth’s strength to drag him forward, muttering profanities under his breath the whole way.  He even had to put a third hole into one of the guards, to add insult to injury: a neat one in his hand because the bastard was going for his gun again.  Clearly incapable of taking a hint.  The other one was a little quicker on the uptake, his own falling away from the butt of his pistol, but Fayth had to reverse up the hallway nonetheless, in part to keep an eye on them, and in part because he suddenly didn’t trust RQ not to brain him if he turned his back.  Just remembering his punch made Fayth’s cheekbone ache.

In front of him, RQ tried to pull free again and yelped as Fayth crushed his hand.  “Don’t you understand I’m trying to help?”  Fayth shouted over the deafening wah-wah of the alarm speaker they passed under.  So far there was no sign of the other two guards.  Fayth had to hope that by now they were at least two floors above them.  “Don’t you know what they want to do?”

His third attempt to wrench himself free unsuccessful, RQ just stared at Fayth with his mouth compressed into a thin line and didn’t say a word.

Fayth shoved the pistol into the back of his trousers, swapping the hand grasping RQ’s for a grip on his slender wrist instead.  Turning his back on him might be a risk, but at least it’d be harder for him to escape.  “I didn’t think you were an idiot but I guess I was wrong.”

Ready, Set, WRITE! - Wrap Up

Ready, Set, WRITE! is a summer writing challenge hosted by Erin L. Funk, Alison Miller, Katy Upperman, Jaime Morrow and Elodie Nowodazkij as a way to encourage participants to get going on their projects and to help keep us accountable.  We share brief updates every Monday so as not to interrupt writing time with blogging.  You can find out more here or check out others' updates over at the hosts' blogs.

1. How I did on last week’s goal(s)

Last week I wanted to write 5,000 words (1,000 handwritten), and finish G is for Gabrys.  And I can say...

I did it!

Well, I didn't do the handwritten one, but that's mostly because I was working my arse off trying to finish Gabrys.  I finished the week with 9,220 words, 2,872 of them yesterday in my desperation to finish it before today.  I think I can live with not handwriting those...!

2. How I did on the summer's goal(s)

My ultimate goals were: Make discernible progress on (or, even better, finish):

• The Reconstruction of Kirill
• The Rose Queen

and finish:

• J is for Jonathan
• G is for Gabrys

And while I've done nothing on The Rose Queen, I did write a chapter on Reconstruction of Kirill (which to be honest is more than I'd done before the summer!), and I totally finished J is for Jonathan and (finally!) G is for Gabrys!

I also had: Try to make some progress on plotting out Dust & Ash, because I don't think that can go anywhere without one.  And this one didn't really work out, mostly because Camp NaNo happened and I suddenly ended up with unexpected characters and an unexpected plot!  (Not that I'd change Ais and Lirio for the world.)

And as for this one...  And, finally, finish at least one item out of the four crochet projects that're sitting behind me exuding a malevolent aura.  I did finally figure out how to stop it sitting behind me and exuding a malevolent aura...

I dumped it upstairs where it couldn't glare at me instead.  Sorry, crochet.

3. A favorite line from my story OR a word or phrase that sums up what I wrote/revised

Throwing back his hood, Makary was apparently of the same mind: his sword slid effortlessly from its sheath and batted away Ardashir’s first lunge like it was nothing.  He made short work of the second and third too, but by then Ardashir seemed to have his measure.  Each thrust was parried, and in return each retaliation was deflected like it was nothing.  It was said that Līzahran was the tongue of the wind whispering sand over the dunes, but that truly was the whisper of blade drawn over blade before another clang resounded throughout the close confines of the corridor.

It was beautiful, almost balletic, and Ardashir was gradually winning.  It would only be a matter of minutes before his superior training got the better of Makary, and Rafay was still in no state to fight—

A crash filled the hall.  Ardashir staggered one step, two, then hit the ground face-first.

Just beyond, the quiet sarayi with the close-cropped black hair let the remains of a thick urn clatter from his fingers to the floor.  When he spoke, it was softly-accented Līzahran.  “I have no wish to go back to those small rooms and put up with him again.”

“It’s less problematic than killing him,” Demiah agreed, grabbing Gabrys’s hand and pulling him towards the door.  “Come on, my prince, before we’re drowning in guards.”

It didn’t escape Gabrys’s notice, from the corner of his eye, that both Makary and Rafay gave Ardashir’s senseless body a surreptitious kick.

4. The biggest challenge I faced this week

Getting the bloody story finished.  I found writing the excerpt in particular very satisfying.  :p

5. The biggest challenge I faced this summer

Motivation, and getting over my inability to write even a sentence without feeling sick.  And I did it!  And more to the point, I've come out the other side with two new stories I never expected!

6. Something I love about my WIP(s)

I think it has to be that, even if they're troublesome, my characters still do things (generally without me) and I'm just writing to keep up.

And finally...

I don't really do manicures, but I did actually make an effort with my nails for a photo.  They're in a better state than they were when I started RSW actually, so perhaps the increase in writing has agreed with them!  (On that note, over summer I wrote 57,375 words...!)

Thank you to everyone for this summer, it's been so much fun!  To Erin, Alison, Elodie, Katy and Jaime for setting this up for us, and to everyone else for sharing in the experience!

You're all amazing!

WiPpet Wednesday: too bloody long, and not the way it was planned...

Things are taking a turn for the decidedly weird with G is for Gabrys.  I keep being fascinated that a story that was only supposed to be 300-700 words has become (at last count) over 15,000 and sprung up a cast of characters, including one I absolutely did not expect to see.

I'm not complaining—well, maybe I am a little, because I want to get it out of the way and it's keeping me from other projects—but after all that time where writing even one word felt like pulling teeth, it's just... unexpected.  I really hope I finish it before it gets to 20,000 words though.

After that... well, I'll probably put it where it was supposed to be in the list, then leave it for a while, give it a spot of editing and then use it to see if I can teach myself how to typeset pages for bookbinding.

I'm usually terrible about finishing projects (and computer games, and... most things, actually: I don't like endings), but I'm rather looking forward to this one.  Not least because of how long it's bloody taken...

WiPpet Wednesday

WiPpet Wednesday is a bloghop run by the always-brilliant K. L. Schwengel who I very almost got the wrong blog address for just then.  It encourages writers to share sections from their Works in Progress that relate in some way to the date (the section, not the content), either through simple means or WiPpet Maths.  If you want to find out more, read some brilliant snippets from stories and join in yourself, it's over here.

I won't threaten another section from G is for Gabrys, because I think one person being threatened with a fork was enough for this month!  Instead, since it's the 26th August 2015 (26/08/2015), I'm going to add 2 + 6 = 8, then 8 + 8 = 16.  2 + 0 + 1 = 3, and 5 - 3 = 2... so 16 - 2 = 14 for 14 admittedly quite long paragraphs from The Rose Queen (as ever, sorry about that).

This one contains a profanity warning, because Fayth can be sweary as it is and now he's really panicking...

Fayth screeched to a halt, barely able to breathe. He’d assumed that they’d take him back home before they executed him. Dead bodies were a pain to transport, but they were infinitely more well behaved than the living. RQ might even now be slowly cooling against a plastic-wrapped mattress.  Worse, it might be a bullet to the back of the head, a spray of red across the wall. 

There was no fucking way he was letting that happen. Hope was all he had, weak and desperate and clawing and he was not going to let go of it. He took off at a sprint, hurtling down emergency access stairs three at a time rather than risk the slow, cramped confines of an elevator, and swarmed through corridors like a one-man plague. 

He was, by his own admittedly somewhat shaky estimation, three floors from the danger zone, where prisoners were likely to go in and never come out again, when his pace slackened. Nothing to do with lack of will, or that he’d given up, but damn he was tired. Adrenaline could carry him so far but there was a limit, and Fayth was pretty sure he’d passed that several floors ago. His hand trembled around the gun’s grip. Not for the first time, he envied the bounty hunters and brawlers their body mods and enhanced systems. Taking his nanites for a tune-up was increasingly looking like a fantastic idea, because he couldn’t do this again.  There was a reason he preferred to sneak in to steal things; he’d not had to do this in years, at least, not in such a sustained manner.  Doing it again on the way back might well see him off entirely. 

And still no alarms sounded.  Kirik must really be keen on saving RQ. 

Fayth leaned against the wall, desperate for the chance to gulp down air—and nearly pissed himself in terror as sirens screamed through the hall.  Time was up; now or never.  At least this time it didn’t involve red lighting, that stuff always made him feel ill.  Pushing off from the wall, he broke into what he hoped wasn’t the last sprint of his life. 

The four guards were lightly armed, built like brick walls and rendered RQ barely visible beyond their broad shoulders, and Fayth almost skidded round the corner into them.  If the alarm hadn’t been blaring fit to burst his eardrums there would’ve been the element of surprise.  As it was, they all spun gracefully in his direction, hands falling to their holsters.  And paused, confused. 

He couldn’t blame them really.  They were probably expecting a second incursion from the Orenda, come to steal back their prize.  It was a fair bet they weren’t expecting the man who’d just delivered that prize back to them.  Not one drew their guns. 

“You’ve gotta move,” Fayth bellowed to be heard over the shrieking alert, his mouth moving before his brain could direct it.  “They’re coming for him.” 

“We’re taking him to the containment block,” one wall rumbled uncertainly, his words almost drowned out by the siren.  “He’ll be safe there.” 

Safe?  Lie of the year right there.  “Nah, man, they’re expecting that.  They need you upstairs, fight them off.  I’ll hide him ’til it’s done.” 

From beyond the shield of shoulders, he thought he saw RQ’s sceptical expression, a sentiment echoed by the guards.  One—must be the leader—turned to the others, quickly ordering two to peel off and head back, before returning his attention to Fayth.  His voice rumbled below the level of the alarm; Fayth could feel it roll through his stomach.  “They’ll help deal with them, don’t worry.  We’ll carry on here, so you can get back to your ship now.” 

Shit damn crap, this wasn’t going how he wanted.  “You don’t think you’re being a bit predictable?  I knew where to find you, so they’re bound to.” 

“This time, we’re prepared for them,” the leader said, turning away.  “Run along.” 

“Fine,” Fayth grumbled, and shot the man in the knee.

Ready, Set, WRITE! - Week Twelve

Ready, Set, WRITE! is a summer writing challenge hosted by Erin L. Funk, Alison Miller, Katy Upperman, Jaime Morrow and Elodie Nowodazkij as a way to encourage participants to get going on their projects and to help keep us accountable.  We share brief updates every Monday so as not to interrupt writing time with blogging.  You can find out more here or check out others' updates over at the hosts' blogs.

1. How I did on last week’s goal(s)

Last week I wanted to write 5,000 words (1,000 handwritten), and finish G is for Gabrys.  I... pretty much failed on all counts.  I wrote 4,757 words (so not too far off), of which 815 were handwritten (because my hands were starting to itch), and although they were all on Gabrys, I still haven't finished it (though the plot has advanced).

2. My goal(s) for this week

Finish G is for Gabrys.  I only have one mapped out plot-point left, then I have to figure out the ending.  It was one of my summer goals and by gods I will do it, even if it is now 11,600 words long when it was only supposed to be 300-700.

Also, write 5,000 words, of which 1,000 should be handwritten.

3. A favorite line from my story OR a word or phrase that sums up what I wrote/revised

There was something so sad in the words, so helpless in his face; Gabrys found himself leaning forward, desperate to do something, anything, that might remove it.  He was only aware of his intentions himself when his lips brushed over Demiah’s, feeling their soft warmth and sweetness.

It would have been fully deserved if the sarayi slapped him for his forwardness.  Instead Gabrys felt a sharp intake of breath, then the kiss was returned.  Only briefly, but enough that he could feel everything in it that was so lacking from every moment Ardashir touched him.

When they parted, the faint smile was back on Demiah’s lips, and Gabrys fancied it looked slightly happier this time.  “That was... unexpected, my prince.”

“I’m sorry.  I—If you want me to never do anything of the sort again, I just—”

The warmth of Demiah’s palm caressing his cheek startled him into silence.  “I didn’t say that, my prince.

4. The biggest challenge I faced this week

Summoning the willpower to write.  Turns out handwriting keeps me away from the perils of the internet, to which I turn every time I run out of steam in a sentence or paragraph...

5. Something I love about my WIP

That it went from something that was supposed to be small, into... well, this.  I have no idea where this plot came from.  Also, that it finally taught me the word for someone in a harem (which I then promptly disregarded for most of the story).

WiPpet Wednesday: a mishmash and a familiar face

It was a weird week last week.  There's always something a little depressing about getting older, offset somewhat by the fact I'm always overestimating how old I actually am, so yet again this year I realised I'm at least year younger than I thought.  (Two years out this year, which was a relief.)

Never did work out if it's because I'm terrible at maths, or if I'm just too lazy to pay attention.

There's something odd about the end of August in England when the weather becomes changeable.  The days seem to become a blur, which hasn't really helped things.  It came as a bit of a surprise that it's even Wednesday today.

In other news, I've finally started reading the Game of Thrones books one of my NaNoers gave me at least a year ago and I'm enjoying the first book so far, but there's something daunting when you look down and go "oh, I'm on page 30 already", only to realise that, yeah, great, but you've got another 800 to go...

WiPpet Wednesday

It's that awesome time of the week again: the blog hop hosted by the ever-brilliant K. L. Schwengel where participants post sections of their Works in Progress that in some way, either through simple links or complicated WiPpet math, relate to the date.  You can find out more, read other blogs and take part yourself over heeeeere.

You know, I've been working quite hard lately on my one outstanding Blogging From A-Z post, G is for Gabrys, and I'm actually starting to make progress now.  Perhaps it'd make more sense if I shared a snippet from—

...I think there's a couple of people who'd hunt me down and strangle me if I did that right now.  :p  (Though that'd be one way to get to meet people in the flesh!)

So, since it's the 19th August 2015 (19/08/2015), my maths is 1 + 9 = 10;  2 + 0 + 1 + 5 = 8; 8 ÷ 8 = 1.  10 + 1 is 11, for 11 paragraphs.

Last week we left Corliss sulking off onto his new task, so this week we're returning to Fayth.  When we left him, he'd been aimlessly pushing some awful not-cream cake around a plate, only to be startled by a crewman letting slip that RQ was being returned solely for his execution.

You could say Fayth did not take it well.

The crewman—Kirik, like knowing his name would stop Fayth threatening him; a sorely deluded man—didn’t waste time putting up a fight, and for that Fayth was grateful. If it wasn’t for the way his hands shook as he opened the door to the armoury Fayth would have sworn he’d wanted him to mount a rescue. He certainly didn’t question the bigger man’s actions. Maybe he realised that Fayth wouldn’t tell him even if he asked. Telling would require knowing why in the first place, and Fayth didn’t want to sit around long enough to analyse that particular question.

Then, gun in hand, he was off and running, leaving Kirik behind with with three tiny red marks on his neck and a bemused expression on his face.

Fayth just hoped Kirik didn’t feel the need to tell anyone how he’d been threatened with death by fork.

No alarms sounded as he pounded through the corridors. The few crewmen he saw passed in a blur, startled expressions frozen with wide eyes and O-shaped mouths. Either they didn’t see the gun or strange men charging through hallways while armed was an alarming but regular occurrence. He hoped it was the former, not the latter.

Damnit, why was it so hard to find Pynes’ office a second time round? He was sure he’d been up there and round there, but it just led to more interminable corridors and if there was one thing the month had supplied more than enough of already, it was interminable corridors.

It was useless, he’d never find them like this. He’d be lucky if Pynes and RQ were even in the same room now.

Room. They wouldn’t be in the same room, because Pynes would want to move RQ somewhere safer, where even if RQ heard what would happen and decided to make a run for it, he’d never manage to escape.
Fayth swore loudly and spun on his heel, pelting back down the corridor again.

Waystations all looked the same. He’d considered it a design flaw in the past—and strictly speaking it was, from a criminal standpoint; if you knew one you knew them all even if you did have a tendency to become geographically embarrassed now and again—but right now he could kiss Pynes. What he’d chosen as a simple stopover on his way back to God knew where was about to make Fayth’s life significantly easier.

Secure cells and other important rooms were usually placed at the bottom of the station, in the middle and far away from the insecure outside edge. It hadn’t been that long, even if he was pretty sure Pynes’ office had been only halfway up the station, two levels from the docking bays. They couldn’t have taken RQ all the way down and in by now, locked him away where Fayth couldn’t get at him even if he could get Kirik to help him again. Please God, don’t let them have managed it...

What if they’d already done it?

Ready, Set, WRITE! - Week Eleven

Ready, Set, WRITE! is a summer writing challenge hosted by Erin L. Funk, Alison Miller, Katy Upperman, Jaime Morrow and Elodie Nowodazkij as a way to encourage participants to get going on their projects and to help keep us accountable.  We share brief updates every Monday so as not to interrupt writing time with blogging.  You can find out more here or check out others' updates over at the hosts' blogs.

1. How I did on last week’s goal(s)

Last week I'd intended to write 5,000 words, 1,000 of which were to be handwritten, and I'd wanted to finish G is for Gabrys.  I actually wrote 6,880 words, of which 5,340 were handwritten and 1,540 were on Gabrys.  Needless to say... I didn't finish Gabrys.

2. My goal(s) for this week

Finish G is for Gabrys.  And maybe write a little on the Camp NaNo project...  In short, the same as last week: write 5,000 words, 1,000 of which should be handwritten, finish that damn story.

3. A favorite line from my story OR a word or phrase that sums up what I wrote/revised

His stomach clenched.  He’d been too shocked, too upset, to realise before.  But he’d be damned if this didn’t make him sound—oh shit—like the most likely culprit.  From the tenseness behind him, he wasn’t the only one arriving at this conclusion.  And how could he blame Ais for it when he’d stabbed him, no matter how lightly, just for saying he loved him.

4. The biggest challenge I faced this week

My birthday was on Saturday, but since it's not really a birthday if you don't get time off from work (and I was maybe a little resentful it fell on my one day off a week!) I had Friday off too and we went out.  I didn't get much done either day, but they were fun.

EDIT: Also, unexpected sequelitis.  I heard ADHDS's The Informant and suddenly realised what Lirio and Ais were doing after the end of the story.  It's frustrating, I don't/didn't want to write a sequel!

5. Something I love about my WIP

That Lirio has just spent almost all of this section completely naked.  Ridiculous, but it amuses me nonetheless.  And also that his mental anguish turns out to be remarkably good for word count.

WiPpet Wednesday: unexpecting the unexpected

Bearing in mind my utter uselessness at continuing on with NaNo stories after NaNo has finished (and I have 12 years' worth of unfinished NaNo stories to back this up!), that I'm still working on this Camp NaNo project is somewhat bemusing...  I'm now at 29,000 words and I have the weirdest suspicion that I've now actually started dreaming about Ais and Lirio.

Things are, as ever, going from bad to worse for our heroes (using the term loosely...) which apparently means that for the last two days I've sat down and accidentally written around 1,000 words a day on them.

Shame it's not 1,000 words on any of the projects I'm actually supposed to be working on!  The weirdest thing is though, that I'm actually having fun.  (Lirio's not, but if he was I wouldn't have so much to write about.)

Also, after ages of reading people say "well it's an acquired taste..." and "I had to force myself to drink it the first week or so..." I finally decided to try green tea.

After my first cup, it's been pretty much the only hot drink I have drunk.  Turns out I actually really like it.  So, finally, something healthy I've been successful with!

WiPpet Wednesday

WiPpet Wednesday is a blog hop hosted by K. L. Schwengel to encourage people to work on and share their Works in Progress, but it's a blog hop with a twist: each snippet should in some way relate to the date, either through basic substitution or WiPpet maths.  You can find out more, read other blogs and sign up yourself over here.

Today's maths is pretty basic: it's the 12th August so it's 12 + 8 for 20 lines from The Rose Queen and we're still on Corliss, just for this one last bit.  (Although if you do fancy reading any more about him, I wrote an 850-word 18+ thing with him before his life in this story for the A-Z Challenge here.  Fastest sex scene of the month!)

Medworth’s eyes narrowed.  Everyone thought his crow’s feet were marks of a life spent laughing; Corliss suspected they had as much to do with the icy glare he seemed perfectly capable of pinning his Head of Security to the carpet with.  Perhaps Medworth smiled with other crewmen, but Corliss was there under sufferance.  “Unless you’re capable of making it up to the Project—to me—somehow?”

At last, a straw he could clutch at.  It might do nothing to stop him being swept back to Caleca, but if he was lucky and absolutely refused to let go, it might just allow him to claw his way back into the Captain’s good graces.  “I’ll do anything to serve the Orenda.  You know that, sir.” 

He didn’t need to hear the words to know what they’d be, but Medworth didn’t leave things to chance and intuition.  “Retrieve the Rose Queen.  Prove you’re the man you assured us you were when we took you on.” 

Corliss nodded, snapping out a smart salute.  “Yes, sir.”  There was nothing else he could say.  No words could make it better.  It was action, because even death was better than the alternative.  He hesitated, saluted again, then turned on his heel and stalked from the room, Medworth’s eyes burning a hole in his back. 

In the hallway, his face collapsed into a scowl that could have been career-ending had Medworth seen it.  His life had gone straight to Hell all right, and if he didn’t do something about it now, Hell would seem like an all-expenses-paid five-star resort on a garden planet in comparison to Medworth’s pointed threat. 

Somehow—and he’d better come up with a way, fast, because he didn’t think Medworth was in a patient mood—he’d get the gardener back and make the thieving bastard who stole him pay for his loss of face.

Ready, Set, WRITE! - Week Ten

Ready, Set, WRITE! is a summer writing challenge hosted by Erin L. Funk, Alison Miller, Katy Upperman, Jaime Morrow and Elodie Nowodazkij as a way to encourage participants to get going on their projects and to help keep us accountable.  We share brief updates every Monday so as not to interrupt writing time with blogging.  You can find out more here or check out others' updates over at the hosts' blogs.

1. How I did on last week’s goal(s)

Last week's goals were to write at least 4,000 words (1,000 of which should be handwritten) and finish G is for Gabrys.  I actually wrote 6,419 words (4,840 handwritten), but am now only around halfway through my mental plan for Gabrys; so two hits and one miss.

Oh, and my goal from week four, to finish Chris Wooding's Ace of Skulls?  FINALLY done it!  In the end I polished off most of the book in a couple of days, and read Natasha Pulley's The Watchmaker of Filigree Street too, which was a brilliant, brilliant book.

2. My goal(s) for this week

I'm starting to get frustrated by all these projects hanging over my head, so this week I'm going to try to write at least 5,000 (at least 1,000 handwritten) words and actually finish this not-so-short story that should've been done in April!

3. A favorite line from my story OR a word or phrase that sums up what I wrote/revised

Ais thought about thinking about it, then opened the door instead.

4. The biggest challenge I faced this week

Keeping focused.  I'd sit down for a while at the keyboard, write a few words, then get up and wander off to sit with my notebook instead.

5. Something I love about my WIP

For the Camp NaNo project: things I only wrote because I saw them in my mind are now starting to connect to other things I only wrote because I 'saw' them, which is both a relief and slightly disconcerting.  For Gabrys: ...that I'm about now halfway through it. *grins*

WiPpet Wednesday: rewards and punishments

My reward for not doing as badly at Camp NaNo as I expected arrived today!

One of the nicest things about fountain pens is converters, which you can fill with any ink you choose... which usually results in owning quite a few bottles of ink (they're much cheaper than buying cartridges).  And I'll admit I'm pretty cheap with my inks: I prefer Diamine, which are usually £2-3 a 30ml bottle.

This... is not a cheap ink.  This is my third J. Herbin 1670 ink, and it's only just come out.  The 1670 inks have tiny flecks of gold in, and from all the promotional pictures I've seen that use it, it's got a beautiful sheen when used.

It's also... *ulp*  About £14 a bottle, and I've never used any of them, because I'm just a tiiiiny bit scared of them.  (I don't think I can be blamed at that price.)  They do look gorgeous though...

I will get around to trying it out though.  Probably with my dip pens, because I'm a little unsure how well a Lamy will deal with the gold flecks in the feed and I'm pretty sure my little Pilot with its EF nib will just choke on them.

But it IS pretty...

And on the subject of (subjectively) pretty, I found the Rose Queen bookmark I made while bored a few months ago.  Never did get around to making one representing Fayth...

WiPpet Wednesday

WiPpet Wednesday is a brilliant blog hop where participants show snippets of their Works in Progress, and all snippets relate in some way to the date, whether through simple substitution or WiPpet Maths.  It's organised by the lovely K. L. Schwengel and you can find out more, read other posts and jump in yourself over here.

It's the 5th August 2015 (05/08/2015) so my math is 2 + 0 + 1 + 5 = 8.  5 - 8 = 3.  3 + 8 = 11, for 11 paragraphs (sorry for the length).

To commemorate finding the bookmark again, I figured we should nip back to The Rose Queen to see what's going on.  I left Fayth with the discovery that his delivery of RQ is not everything he thought is was...

..and you're going to have to wait a little longer to see how that pans out, because chapter 4 deals with someone else.  Someone troublesome, who turned up without my permission...  (Profanity warning.)

The other thing he couldn’t help noticing, as he shifted from foot to foot and clenched his hands tightly together behind his back, was the sheer amount of greenery around the place.  Anywhere else, he’d take the stalks and stems to be a particularly expensive brand of synthetic and dismiss it as a pointless frippery; in here, he knew the truth.  Each plant was painstakingly—he might go so far as lovingly—raised to be the finest example it could be and then handed over to serve as nothing more than decoration.  It was easy to make a parallel between the plants and their gardener.

“Baenan.”

Outwardly he was sure nothing more happened than his knuckles whitening as he gripped that little bit harder; inwardly, he flinched.  If he was being addressed by his surname, he really was in for it.  “Yes, sir.”

The deep carpet muffled each heavy footfall and the man’s breath was barely audible, but Corliss knew where the man was standing simply from the pressure of his eyes over his skin.  The room might be designed to intimidate, but it had nothing on its occupant.  “Would you like to tell me anything about today, Baenan?”

Well, no, he wouldn’t.  What he would like to do was hide in his cabin until he could be sure people had stopped laughing every time he passed, but he was fairly sure that the Captain wasn’t going to accept that as an answer.  In fact, there was a lot the Captain wouldn’t accept as an answer, like how the Head of Security had found himself brained and naked in a storage closet.  Hay Medworth had a reputation as a fair Captain, but no matter how fair he was, Corliss didn’t think anyone would take the theft of their most valuable asset they’d ever had well while the man supposedly responsible for ship-wide security dozed through it all.

Fucking thief; it had taken a full ten minutes for Corliss’s nose to stop bleeding and hadn’t that amused everyone else.  He hadn’t intended to effectively broadcast that he was one of the few crewmembers without nanites.

“I’m waiting, Baenan.”

He swallowed, like that would force down the knot of fear in his chest, and kept his gaze fixed on the empty table in front of him.  Real wood, if he had to hazard a guess; he wondered if it had been grown in the habitat or shipped from a garden planet.  “I was doing a sweep of the docking bays.  I didn’t want anyone thinking that position meant pulling rank and offloading the shitty—” he winced; “—unpleasant, sorry sir, jobs onto junior staff.  The craft had all the correct credentials,” he added defensively, grip behind his back tightening again.  “The AI wouldn’t have let it dock otherwise.”

Captain Medway loomed into his peripheral vision.  From the way his lips pursed, that was the wrong answer.  “The system was fooled.  I would have thought you of all people would know how incorrect that was.”

It was like being slapped, only more effective.  He could get used to being slapped, but Medway’s sharp tongue opened the lacerations of his past every time.  “He hit me round the back of the head with a cleaning utensil, sir,” he found himself protesting weakly.

“That reminds me.”  The Captain settled behind his desk and watched the inwardly-squirming man over his steepled fingers.  “The cost of a new mop is coming out of your pay.  Perhaps you’d like to be demoted to caretaker duties and become better acquainted with it.”

(Oh, and just so they're not totally abandoned...  this is my most recent favourite bit from the half-arsed project:

Ais led him to a large flat stone that overlooked the sea and sat him on it.  Without the heat from his hands, the wind chilled Lirio's skin and rose goosebumps.  “You want to say we’re screwed, don’t you?”

Lirio snorted.  “I wanted to be, then your brother interrupted.”

So still no luck on that front for them!)

Ready, Set, WRITE! - Week Nine

Ready, Set, WRITE! is a summer writing challenge hosted by Erin L. Funk, Alison Miller, Katy Upperman, Jaime Morrow and Elodie Nowodazkij as a way to encourage participants to get going on their projects and to help keep us accountable.  We share brief updates every Monday so as not to interrupt writing time with blogging.  You can find out more here or check out others' updates over at the hosts' blogs.

1. How I did on last week’s goal(s)

They were two pretty simple goals: write 4,000 words and reach 20,000 words for Camp NaNo.  Happy to say I actually managed both!  I finished Camp NaNo with 20,598 words and wrote a total of 4,756 words for the week.

2. My goal(s) for this week

Try to write at least 4,000 words again, and actually make an effort on finishing that bloody G is for Gabrys thing I've been ignoring all month!  And try to make sure that at least 1,000 words of what I write is handwritten on my Camp NaNo project, since it turns out I really quite enjoy handwriting--and I don't think Lirio and Ais would be happy if I left them now.

3. A favorite line from my story OR a word or phrase that sums up what I wrote/revised

“Why are we here?”  He managed to ask through his breathlessness and the dust cloud.  “Where is here?”

“My brother’s new house,” Ais said, caressing Lirio’s cheek so tenderly he barely felt the sting of his bruise at all.  “I said we’d dust it for them.”

“That’s what you call this?”  Lirio felt himself grin.

“I was planning on dusting with your back.  Or mine, depending on who’s on top.”  He kissed him again.

4. The biggest challenge I faced this week

Keeping going, as ever.  Summoning the energy to make comment rounds, which was incredibly bad of me.  And Saturday, which was spent in the city with friends.

5. Something I love about my WIP

That I'm still writing it, to be honest.  Normally when NaNo or similar ends I'm so relieved that I put down the story and don't pick it up again, but I've actually written something the last two days as well.

WiPpet Wednesday: the half-arsed project from the black lagoon

Work.  Has been insane.  So much for my quiet week!  If I finally break and you guys see vague, ranty and twitchy Twitter comments, that'd be why...

Well.  More ranty.  Ranty-er?

Because I clearly need more.

Ughhhh.  I need to sit with my still-unfinished crochet on my head for a while and hide from the world.

In other news, the half-arsed project is very, very unlikely to reach 30,000 words by the end of the month, but 20,000 might just be possible (you'd think so, but see above...).  Either way, it's still more than I ever envisioned writing by hand in a month.

Don't think I can stop now though.  I ordered another two new fountain pen inks yesterday.

WiPpet Wednesday

It's Wednesday, so it's time for a WiPpet!  WiPpet Wednesday is a works-in-progress blog hop hosted by the always-awesome K. L. Schwengel, where every entry relates in some way to the date, either through simple logic or WiPpet maths.  You can find out more and visit the other posts by ambling over here.

It's the 29th June 2015, so 29/07/2015.  Today we're discarding the year entirely.  2 + 9 = 11; 1 × 1 = 1.  7 + 1 = 8, for 8 sentences, where Ais has finally got Lirio home again.  They were about to continue the Moment they'd been having last week when they received an unpleasant shock instead, one that's put Lirio on edge...

(So first-draft-y it hurts.)

Asking just how he got caught when he was usually so careful would have made being smacked in the face with a brick seem tactful, so Ais didn’t, and just hoped Lirio appreciated just how much more careful cleaning his face Ais was than when the roles were reversed.

He suspected he didn’t.

Lirio was worryingly silent throughout.  He was quiet enough normally, sure, but when something upset him he was usually very vocal about it.  Sullen silence just didn’t suit him.  He didn’t even make a peep when Ais accidentally caught a sore spot with his cleaning cloth and Ais was sure he’d at least have complained or tried to swat his hand away.

Very worrying indeed.  And he’d only done it slightly on purpose too.

Ready, Set, WRITE! - Week Eight

Ready, Set, WRITE! is a summer writing challenge hosted by Erin L. Funk, Alison Miller, Katy Upperman, Jaime Morrow and Elodie Nowodazkij as a way to encourage participants to get going on their projects and to help keep us accountable.  We share brief updates every Monday so as not to interrupt writing time with blogging.  You can find out more here or check out others' updates over at the hosts' blogs.

1. How I did on last week’s goal(s)

I'd wanted to write at least 4,000.  Unfortunately, the more time = less writing thing happened and I only ended up writing 3,262 words.  If I'd written anything yesterday I might have made it, but unfortunately work got in the way and by the time I'd finished my brain was just not interested any more.

2. My goal(s) for this week

Having missed it last week, I think setting another goal of 4,000 words this week is for the best.

And while I doubt very much I'll get to 30,000 words between now and the 31st, I'm going to at least try for 20,000 (which technically is 2,675 words away, but you never know...).

3. A favorite line from my story OR a word or phrase that sums up what I wrote/revised

Lirio let out a shaky laugh.  “I don’t know.  In some ways we did make it easier for them, whoever they are.”  He gently pressed his finger into the grey powder, leaving a clean mark beside the perpetually-empty vase—and its barely noticeable crescent where it had been replaced not-quite-perfectly.  “Think the florists have formed a militant guild targeting empty vases across the city?”

4. The biggest challenge I faced this week

Game of Thrones.  We started rewatching it from the beginning, so that's at least three hours of every evening taken up--if we're restraining ourselves.

Also, finding motivation to write.  Something seems to have been sapping it just lately.  Oh wait, that's work and the weather.  Come back heatwave, all is forgiven (mostly).

5. Something I love about my WIP

The fact my characters are still talking at me, even if it means getting lectured by a not-quite-antagonist on how I've misjudged him and how I ended up rendering a picture of the goddess of murder, on Lirio's request.  (I didn't even know one existed until he mentioned it, and now she needs a name.)

WiPpet Wednesday: return of the half-arsed project

In most respects it's been an uneventful week, with the exception of yesterday and today...  Yesterday I decided to do a factory reset on my Nexus 7, Lydia, since she's a 2012 model whose battery life became steadily more and more appalling over time and who I suspect never quite recovered from having something like 8 failed attempts at installing Android 4.4.4 (gods only know why!).  One factory reset later and we have battery life again, far fewer apps and... absolutely no saved progress in things like Temple Run.  Sigh.  There goes 60+ gems and a few million coins...

Then today my work laptop, Four, decided he didn't much like last night's Windows update.  System froze literally five minutes after booting, and again three minutes after resetting.  I've narrowed down the problems so I guess I just have to wait and see if my fixes have worked.

And then our internet went down this morning, so it's been just great today.

Other than that, still working on the Half-Arsed Project, but it's unlikely I'll get to 30,000 before the end of Camp NaNo.  I'm at 15,000 now.

Speaking of that...

WiPpet Wednesday

It's that time of the week again!  The blog hop where everyone's WIP entries relate in some way to the date, hosted by the ever-gracious and brilliant K. L. Schwengel.  Curious?  You can find out more, visit other WiPpeteers and sign up yourself over here.

It's the 22nd July 2015 today, so my maths is going to be arse-about-face.  1 + 5 = 6.  7 - 6 = 1.  2 + 1 = 3 for butchering of the year and month.  22 + 3 = 5, for 25 sentences of the half-arsed projects that one character would quite like to turn into a detective story.  Unfortunately for him he's not the main character, so we'll just ignore him.

This is the closest we've been getting to tender scenes between Ais and Lirio just lately, and follows on from an ill-judged attempt by Lirio to hunt down information in places he really shouldn't, and a somewhat less ill-judged rescue by Ais...

This, on top of everything else, was almost unbearable.  He’d spent all that time—that he hadn’t had and he knew it even then—desperately searching Siwen’s office for something that would incriminate her and exonerate Ais, and he’d found nothing but a splitting headache and a fresh opportunity for her to make him suffer.

“Lirio?”  Ais asked softly.

“What is it?”  Because he’d better have found something, or—

“What did you mean, ‘because of me’?”

He hesitated, swallowing a couple of times.  “I needed her to think you were off-guard.  You needed her to think that.  Or that mobile mountain in the room with us...”

Ais snorted.  “He wasn’t that big.”

“Maybe not when you’re facing him or standing up,” he said bitterly.

One of Ais’ most irritating qualities was how few strides it took him to quickly cover ground; one of his most endearing qualities—not that Lirio would tell him and run the risk of him becoming big-headed—was how inexplicably comforting his arms were when they wrapped around Lirio’s shoulders.  “I should have got there sooner,” he mumbled into Lirio’s hair.  “I shouldn’t have let you go in alone.”

Guilt wasn’t a feeling Lirio was particularly accustomed to, and it certainly wasn’t one he enjoyed.  He should pull away from Ais, say something blunt to remind him he could barely protect himself, let alone Lirio.

He covered Ais’ arms with his own and allowed his eyes to close, savouring the feeling of his breath against his hair.  “You weren’t to know,” he said softly.  “Don’t worry.”

For once, Ais said nothing.  The fingers gently cupping Lirio’s shoulders squeezed gently.

“Well isn’t this the most disgustingly touching scene,” a sneering voice sheared through their reverie.  “I’d be sick but I wouldn’t want to ruin any evidence any more than you already have.”

Ready, Set, WRITE! - Week Seven

Ready, Set, WRITE! is a summer writing challenge hosted by Erin L. Funk, Alison Miller, Katy Upperman, Jaime Morrow and Elodie Nowodazkij as a way to encourage participants to get going on their projects and to help keep us accountable.  We share brief updates every Monday so as not to interrupt writing time with blogging.  You can find out more here or check out others' updates over at the hosts' blogs.

1. How I did on last week’s goal(s)

Again, much better than expected.  ...Sort of.  Although I'm not quite sure how it happened, I managed to finish off the week having written a grand total of 6,873 words--which is great, although I still don't know how handwriting it makes me write more than typing does--but I still have absolutely no idea whatsoever about the plot.

Considering I'm now at 13,849 words into it... might need one soon!

(Week seven??  Already??)

2. My goal(s) for this week

Plot.  Please?

Also, I'm going to try sneaking up on it again.  Last week's goal was 3,000 words or more, so this week's goal is 4,000 or more.  (Still working on the "more time = less writing" scenario.)

3. A favorite line from my story OR a word or phrase that sums up what I wrote/revised

For a moment Lirio kissed back just as fiercely, then bit hard on Ais’ lower lip.  “Why are you here?”

“Mounting a dramatic and daring rescue, of course.”  It was a good thing he was already used to the sting from his split lip.

Lirio’s smile lacked any actual humour.  “Of course.”  He nodded first to Siwen, then in the general direction of the figure Ais had clocked earlier.  “And you were planning on doing that how?”

“Oh you know, the usual.  Charm and wit, that sort of thing.”

“Great,” Lirio said, his smile widening.  “I’m doomed.”

4. The biggest challenge I faced this week

The heat.  It's not so bad anywhere except where I write.  Oh, and the cat--the one whose chair I fell asleep in?  He's been getting his revenge by leaping onto my notebook and scooting across the table on it.  It's also a prime sitting or sleeping spot... while I'm writing.

5. Something I love about my WIP

Against all the odds I actually like the dorky idiots that are Ais and Lirio.  I really didn't expect that when I started writing.

I also love that I'm finally getting a lot more use out of my fountain pen and ink collections!

WiPpet Wednesday: revenge of the half-arsed project

Still plugging away at Camp NaNo.  I'm 8,737 words into a story I have no idea about while my characters search for both the plot and the Thing (that I have a vague notion is large, round and flat and does something bad), and are doing pretty damn badly at finding both...

To be fair to absolutely nobody, my entire cabin (which is to say, two other writers) is making much the same kind of progress as me.  Turns out handwriting these things is bloody awkward.  This is what I get for spending over half my life in front of computers...

I don't even know how I'm almost 9,000 words in.  It certainly doesn't feel like it.

WiPpet Wednesday

It's the most stealthy day of the week, the one I always fail to see coming...  WiPpet Wednesday is a blog hop run by the ever-awesome K. L. Schwengel, and a blog hop with a twist: every post relates in some way to the date!  If you want to find out more (and you should~), you can find more information and others' posts over at the inlinkz page.

Today's maths was... pretty simple, I thought, when I worked it out?  It's the 15th June 2015, so I added 1+5 to make 6, added it to the month (7) for 13, then for I added 2+0+1 to make 3, and removed that 3 from the 5 for 2, and added that to the 13 to make 15 for 15 (quite short) paragraphs...

And then I realised it's the 15th today and that would have done perfectly well by itself.

Still on the half-arsed project, and I'm concluding the one with the real sense of humour here is Ais.  Lirio has (sort of) freed Ais, taken him to see the boss (a l'il bit of that was posted on Monday) and now, quite a lot later, they're home again.

And still bickering.

For all his stubbornness and the way he took great care to make sure cleaning Ais’ face hurt, Lirio wasn’t hard to persuade to bed.  “Ten minutes,” he’d grumbled, allowing Ais to pull off his shirt and pull him into his arms on the bed, but when fifteen had passed and he was sound asleep with his head on Ais’ shoulder, Ais didn’t have the heart to wake him.  And with Lirio’s rhythmic breathing against him, he could hardly be blamed for dozing off himself, could he?

So it wasn’t particularly fair to be woken up by a punch to the arm so hard his fingers immediately went numb.  “Hey!”

“Have you got any idea what time it is?”  Lirio yelled at almost deafening volume into Ais’ ear.  “What the hells did you think you were doing?”

“Exactly the same thing you were.  Sleeping.”

Lirio stared at him like he was crazy, and for so long he started to wonder if he was.  “So everything you said about wanting a week, how you could find information—when did you plan to start?  When you only had one day left?”

“No...”  Ais found himself squirming under Lirio’s incredulity.  By all the sea gods he could think of, the man was a head shorter than him, he shouldn’t be able to make him so nervous.  But then, Lirio was the scarier one here.  “But a few hours’ delay can’t hurt, can it?  You said yourself you’ve had no sleep and I was busy getting beaten up.”

Lirio sniffed in the most derisive way Ais had ever heard a sniff be sniffed.  “You didn’t even know what day it was.  You slept through most of it.”

“Doesn’t mean it was comfortable,” Ais huffed, twisting to show off to Lirio the bruises mottling his torso, and froze at the sight of Lirio’s flat belly.  “What’s that?”

Lirio glanced down, mouth open to no doubt complain again, then clacked it shut and yanked the sheet up, like he thought covering the fist-sized bruise smack in the middle of his belly would make Ais immediately forget it existed.

It didn’t.  “Lirio, what happened in that meeting?”

“I told you.  Nothing.”

“You also told me you didn’t want to talk about it, and that doesn’t sound—or look—like nothing to me.”

Lirio sighed a long-suffering sigh, but Ais felt him lean fractionally away.  “It’s a reminder.”

When it seemed like a polite silence might be too subtle, Ais prompted, “of?”

This time the sigh was softer and more heartfelt.  “Of what will happen if I bring you back empty-handed at the end of the week.”

Ready, Set, WRITE! - Week Six

Ready, Set, WRITE! is a summer writing challenge hosted by Erin L. Funk, Alison Miller, Katy Upperman, Jaime Morrow and Elodie Nowodazkij as a way to encourage participants to get going on their projects and to help keep us accountable.  We share brief updates every Monday so as not to interrupt writing time with blogging.  You can find out more here or check out others' updates over at the hosts' blogs.

1. How I did on last week’s goal(s)

I had one simple goal (and one not so simple one): handwrite 2,000 words or more, and discover the plot.  Considering how I failed before and how last week had more work hours than the one before it... I was pretty surprised to find last night I've written 5,681 words this week.

Still not discovered the plot, though I do know a bit of backstory now, so that's something.

2. My goal(s) for this week

My working week is considerably freer than last week, which probably means I'll end up doing less writing.  (It usually does.)  So I'm going to set a slightly higher goal that matches the last few weeks: 3,000 words.

And I'd still like to discover the plot, or at least find out what the thing is and why it's needed.

3. A favorite line from my story OR a word or phrase that sums up what I wrote/revised

“You really don’t listen, do you?”  Ais had heard about voices cutting through things like knives, but this was the first time he’d experienced it.  “Are you incapable of doing what you’re told?”

“Yes.”  Wait, this time, honesty was as likely to get him into trouble as dishonesty had with Lirio.  “I mean, no, but I’m just trying to put right my mistake.  You can’t blame me for it, can you?”

The boss rubbed his temples between thumb and forefinger in a way that uncomfortably reminded Ais of Lirio.  “No.  I can’t blame you for it.  I can, however, blame you for being stubborn and stupid, but perhaps that’s a side effect of the company you keep.”

Ais glanced over his shoulder again, but instead of seeming angry even if he was masking it, Lirio seemed totally unfussed, like being called stupid was an everyday occurrence for him.

Ais suddenly decided he didn’t much like the boss.

4. The biggest challenge I faced this week

Work, as ever.  And the fact that the further through the week I got, the more tired I was, until I accidentally lost precious writing time on Friday by falling asleep in a chair in the conservatory...

The cat wasn't impressed: it was 'his' chair I fell asleep in.

5. Something I love about my WIP

Ais is a big dumb puppy and Lirio is a spiky little cat, and I didn't know that about either of them until I just sat down and started writing.

Oh, and I've been writing every day in different colour ink, so I've blocks of text in orange, blue, red, navy, green...  It's the most cheerfully-coloured story I've ever written.

WiPpet Wednesday: a totally half-arsed project

I'm not being facetious either: it's Camp NaNo and I was woefully unprepared.  I didn't write anything at all the first day, because I didn't know which project to work on and as our small cabin is handwriting our stories I didn't want to start writing anything I was already mid-type.

So I sat down on the second day and just started writing, and it turned out I was writing about Lirio and Ais, who first turned up under L is for Lirio in the A-Z Challenge.  There even seems to be a plot, though it's being a little stubborn at making itself fully known, which involves a thing that Ais should have fetched that is now missing.

Would love to know what the thing is though...

So, yep.  This month is now given over to a project I am not just winging, but am pantsing in ways I haven't pantsed for years.

WiPpet Wednesday

WiPpet Wednesday is a blog hop hosted by the lovely K. L. Schwengel, where participants share snippets from their WIPs with just one twist: the excerpt must in some way relate to the date, either through simple means or fancy maths.  You can read more (well worth it) and find out more over here.

Last week we left Fayth with the bombshell that RQ is going to be executed as he has outlived his usefulness.

This week, we're going to still leave him there, because you're getting something from this barely-even-first-draft WIP instead.  Mostly because half-arsed though it may be, I'm having a lot of fun with it, and it turns out I rather like Lirio and Ais (though I'm not sure the feeling is mutual).

Today is the 8th July 2015 (8/7/2015), so today's maths goes as follows: 2+0+1+5 = 8 - 7 = 1.  1 + 8 = 9 for nine paragraphs from the first section.  And don't worry when I say "9 paragraphs": handwriting everything means most paragraphs are very short...

He did his best to glower at him through his remaining good eye, but from the widening of the smirk the whole effect was spoiled by his bruised face and black eye.  “I won’t.”

“You’ve found your voice?”  The leader asked, amusement positively dripping from every word.  “We’re making progress already.  It won’t be long before you’re singing pretty songs and eating out the palm of my hand.  Maybe even literally.  I’d enjoy that.”

His eyes widened in horror—at the exact same moment the leader’s did.  When he toppled backwards, rapidly followed by his accomplice, it was with the same stupid, shocked expression.

One he wore himself as a voice, a familiar voice, growled out, “only thing you’ll enjoy is a splitting headache, dick.”

That voice.  He knew that voice like the back of his foot—like the back of his hand but marginally less familiar.  But it couldn’t be, because that would just be wrong.  It would turn the world on its head.  And worst of all, it would totally blow his cover.

Maybe, if he was lucky, he wouldn’t recognise him.

“Ais?”  So much for that.  “Ais, is that you?  What’re you doing here?”

He turned a bloody smile up at his lover.  Well.  Probably ex-lover now.  “Lirio.  Never expected to see you here.”  After all, how much worse could it get?

From the pursing of Lirio’s lips and the way his fingers twitched for the knives at his belt, probably much, much worse.