Archive | September 2013

SepNaWriMo – last Line of last night

It was a good question. It was also a very polite – and Bitrani-indirect – way of asking “what will happen to us?”

1,713 words edited/rewritten (12,126 total)

12,925 to go.

This part is the beginning, so it’s mostly just tightening up and re-writing bits, not any actual writing, per se. Zoom!

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phrasing/word help needed

Just as importantly, he allowed himself to be led as docilely as if on a lead, through one row of tents, and another, until he was ducking through the entrance of her small tent.

It was no bigger and no more grand, than any other junior officer’s tent, but it was private. Its position was too close to the latrines and too far from the mess tent, but the awkward placing offered a little more discretion for the conversation they were going to have.

^^^
That word. Discretion. It’s not the right one, I don’t think. Help?

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Editing Feedback wanted

Even so, even with practice and acclimation, she could tell from fifty feet away that the stench was worse today, ranker, like old corpses marinated in goat waste. The news had reached here, then: the Bitrani’s final, bloody, suicidal, nearly-effective attack on Cālenta’s northern border had failed. The surrender had been signed. Now all that was left was the messy job of sweeping up the pieces, and every prisoner knew that they were one of the pieces to be swept. With the Bitrani forces routed, they were an unnecessary bargaining chip. Rin pursed her lips. She’d done what she could for them; now they – all but one of them- would be in different hands.

Is the bold/italic’d line necessary, or does it work without it?

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SepNaWriMo – last Line of the weekend

Noam had come home for the summer to find he had a stepfather, which wasn’t the strangest part.

9464 words written (par 8800)
23,536 to go.

And I’d better start outlining Rin & Girey, eep, I’m < 500 words from starting that!

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A New Year, a new …who?

To [personal profile] rendia‘s prompt.. Shang is a Year9 Character (Short version: he doesn’t believe in magic and doesn’t believe he’s fae.)

Monday after Hell Night, Year 10 of the Addergoole School.

“You know what you have to do.”

“Damaris, this is ridiculous. And why are you so angry at me?”

“…you know, forget it. I’ll get over being angry soon enough. Look. You know what you’ve got to do.”

“It’s still ridiculous.” They’d gone around that loop enough times that it ought to be the chorus of a song. You know what you have to do/but it’s ridiculous and I don’t want to./You’re acting like a fool/ But wasn’t I yours, your fool?

Damaris huffed. “For once, just listen to me, would you?”

“I’m trying.” He could tell her breath was uneven and her pulse was racing. She was clearly upset and getting more so. Shang tried for a more placating tone. “Damaris, if this is what you want me to do, I’ll go along with it.”

“Even the collar?”

“Even the collar. I think it’s…” He stopped himself. “Because I said something to keep Curry and Basalt off of her?”

“Because you walked into Curry and Basalt’s trap. Or walked her into it, whatever. Yes. It’s how the school works, Shang.”

I liked the part where the school worked me in your arms. Not this part where I have to move a stranger in with me. “All right.” Because it made her happy.

~
That Friday

“Don’t touch those, geez, stop it.”

“But I need…” Leithe lifted her hands off the stack of CDs as if they’d burned her.

“Shut up, okay?” Shang glowered. He’d liked Leithe. She was normal, easy to talk to, the sort of girl he would have been interested in, before Addergoole. She was generally just a nice person.

And he was being a heel to her. Because she persisted on trying to cuddle up to him, and to act like she was his girlfriend.

She wasn’t his girlfriend. Damaris was his girlfriend. Even if she’d “released him from his promise.” Even if she’d taken the collar off. Even if she barely spoke to Shang anymore.

“I’m just trying to pick up. You told me I could pick up.”

Had he? He thought he’d said something like that. “Don’t. There’s CDs everywhere.”

“I could organize them.”

“No! God, no, they’re already organized!” He glared at her. “Why do you keep on doing that?”

“I’m just trying to make you happy.”

“Don’t! Don’t try to make me happy, don’t try to please me, don’t guess what you think I want. Just… go jump in a pond or something. Give me some space.”

She fled the room, already sobbing. Shang put his face in his hands. He was being an asshole. He hated being a jerk. But everything had gone wrong the minute he’d said she was his, and he just didn’t know how to make things right.

He tidied the room. He reorganized the stacks of CDs so she could actually get into the dresser where her clothes were stored. He washed the dishes, and sorted his clothes so she had more room. He was just beginning to wonder if he was supposed to go after her when someone pounded on his door.

Not Agra, please, not Damaris. He opened the door.

His Mentor was holding a soaking-wet Leithe, holding her so she couldn’t run away, and she was definitely trying to. “You and I,” Luke’s voice was a snarl, “need to have a talk about orders.”

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SepNaWriMo – last Line of last night

“Yeah. So I thought… you might be interested in practicing on me.”

“On you.” The thought had its immediate appeal and its just-as-immediate flags of bad-idea.

5,136 words written (par 4,400)
27,864 to go.

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Duty, a story of the Unicorn/Factory for the Giraffe Call

I’m not really sure this answered any of the prompts but it’s what I’ve got at the moment.

Content warning for discussion of unicorn rape.

“I went to the unicorn.” Tasha pulled her knees to her chest. “I drew the lots, and I went.” There was no inflection at all to her voice. “And I survived.” She turned her head to look at the basket to her side, where a tiny infant waved fists that looked human and made noises that sounded like baby noises. “I didn’t think I would. I didn’t think she would.” She patted the edge of the basket haphazardly.

Her friends – such as they were – listened. They were not the women she’d grown up with, but they were women, girls, maybe, of the Villages, and they had gathered in a corner of the great Faire to talk, because they had no appetite for the delicacies or the shows.

“I went to the unicorn.” Tasha wasn’t so much repeating herself as starting another chapter of the story. “Virgins do, and everyone knew I would be a virgin. I went down to the river, to save my Village. I didn’t cry and I didn’t shout.” She clutched her knees closer. “Not then. Not while I healed. Not while she was born. I did what I was sent to do.”

Her eyes traveled to the small thing in the basket again. Her companions’ gazes followed hers. The thing burbled and waved, like a real baby. Like a baby born the natural way.

Tasha’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I did what they asked. I do what they ask. I raise… I am her mother. She is my daughter.” Her hand rested more steadily now, on the baby’s chest. “That is what was needed of me.

“And now.” Her voice spiraled up louder. Her companions leaned forward: no need to shout, it’s all right. Hands patted at her. Someone shushed her quietly. “And now.” Her voice dipped again. “Now they want me to get married. I’ve done my duty, they say. And then they want me to get married.

She picked up the child, heedless of the tiny bud of a horn that would one day be its own piercing weapon. “Why can’t they just leave us alone?”

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