A Grand Chorus of Silence. Also, WiPpet Wednesday

First off, everyone, thank you all for the kind comments.  I'm really sorry I haven't replied, but (while it's no excuse) I was just much happier being able to enjoy all your successes on your blogs instead...  I promise I'll try to reply to them soon.

I've run into a slight problem.  Although the idea of actually writing still makes me queasy and brings me out in a cold sweat (never a good sign...), my characters are conspiring against me, and considering one of those characters is Fayth...  And although you've not met the other, though technically you should have and I just skirted over his initial introduction (but don't worry—not that anyone has been—when he becomes relevant I'm sure I'll find some obscure maths for his introduction), he's just spent half the week making his presence known in my head.

And it's not fair.  <insert echoing howl of fury here>

Actually, less of the fair, it's more frustrating.  This character was only supposed to be a footnote, a handy source of clothes, but turned up again in the third chapter and then insisted—after I finished chapter eight, obviously—that he needed a chapter to himself, and that obviously had to be a new chapter four.  And some other stuff.  And now he won't get the hell out my plot again.

Not to change the subject (however much it looks like it), but last year I bought Machinae Supremacy's brilliant concept album Phantom Shadow.  One of the songs, The Villain of this Story, inveigled its way into my head the other day without my even listening to it and I'd always thought it suited Corliss (the troublesome character), so I loaded it and all the actual song (not the exposition) tracks onto my music player.  And now he won't shut up.

Machinae Supremacy - Perfect Dark

Well, it's some of them, anyway

So while I've written a grand total of 0 since last week (technically -2 according to Scrivener, as I finally lost my temper with a couple of sentences and rejigged them despite swearing I'd only highlight and leave for later), Fayth and Corliss are presently engaged in working out how to deal with the situation they've been left with at the start of chapter twelve and what I want apparently doesn't matter at all.

Incidentally, Corliss decided that Perfect Dark suited him much better, so in order to give my hands something to do I spent a lot of time listening to it and then wrote out the lyrics using a mediæval English style.  I might not have written fiction, but I'm at least improving on speed.  It only took maybe two hours... but at least I avoided typos.

WiPpet Wednesday

As always, much love and thanks to K. L. Schwengel who graciously hosts our work-in-progress blog hop.  If it looks fun, you can look at the other participants and sign up over here.

Today is the 11th February 2015, so I'm going to try to get a little creative here.  Or I'm going to butcher the date in order to get my own way, whichever way you prefer to think of it.  11 = 1+1 = 2.  2+2 = 4.  So for the 11th of the 2nd month, you're getting four paragraphs from chapter two.

This (as ever, unedited) section leads straight on from last week's, where Fayth found the Rose Queen and convinced him to leave with him.  Not that it's that easy, of course.

Fayth dropped his hand to the pocket not stuffed full with Matthew’s hackpad, nonchalantly withdrawing one of the metallic cords he’d brought for restraint purposes.  The sleeping guard in the cupboard was wearing half of his supply; he’d have to retrieve it before they left.  Assuming he had time.  He’d already spent longer here than he’d intended; they might be lazy, but they couldn’t be that blind.

Without a word, the Rose Queen held both wrists out to him, palms together.

He couldn’t help raising an eyebrow as he bound the cord around the thin joints, but the Rose Queen looked away, eyes hooded.  There’d be no answers forthcoming.  Suited Fayth just fine.  He wasn’t sure he wanted to ask the question.  Taking a firm—but not too firm, he saw how the Rose Queen was favouring his elbow—hold of his shoulder, Fayth led him towards the door while keeping an eye out for any curious crewmembers.  The habitat might look deserted, but it could easily mean that klaxons would sound and all hell would descend upon them the minute he led his quarry into the corridor.

Now the hackpad had an idea of what it was doing, it opened the door with a gentle hiss only a second after Fayth pressed it to the panel.  From the corner of his eye he could see the Rose Queen try to watch what he was doing without giving an outward appearance of interest; it would be comical if it didn’t seem quite so sad.  Then they were through and into the corridor, and Fayth realised that here was where the real difficulty began, because he’d be damned if he could remember his way back.

So y'know that sleeping guard?  Yeah.  Also, Matthew?  He'll become relevant too later.  He's another that likes to shoehorn his way into stories.