Daily Excerpt Post: 5 November
Nov. 5th, 2010 12:28 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
jupitersings.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
nanowrimo_ljThis is your Daily Excerpt Post!
Post an excerpt of your novel here rather than anywhere else!
Please try to keep it under 1500 words. Thanks!
Post an excerpt of your novel here rather than anywhere else!
Please try to keep it under 1500 words. Thanks!
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-11-05 08:13 am (UTC)Any background information: The Man with the Knobbly knees has had an accident.
Excerpt:
"He just fell off a low stool trying to …"
"Trying to steal some biscuits. Well, as long as there's no damage."
"There is to my favourite biscuit jar, Mr Briggs! Thirty years I've had that jar, and now it's in pieces in the dustbin and where's the justice in that?"
At that, Cook broke down sobbing, and they all looked at her in shock. The strongest, most dependable member of the household – it was more than they could cope with. Mary followed suit, and Jervis looked highly concerned. His quick eye swept all of them, and rested once more on Enid.
"I think it's probably Mary's bedtime, and I think Cook could do with a rest too. Enid, could you perhaps help them up to bed, and we'll have a simple supper later."
Enid nodded again and, putting her arms around Mary, urged her towards the stairs. Robert looked at the crying form of Cook and moved over to beside her.
"Now come on, Cook. Haven't I offered to send you something lovely to replace your biscuit jar with? And what better way for the old one to go out than as a tribute to your irresistable baking skills? I'm sure if I'd known where it was, I would have raided it too, and probably fallen twice as hard off the stool." And with that and other similar blandishments, he coaxed the large woman out of the kitchen and accompanied her up the stairs to her room.
She turned at the door, and looked him right in the eye. "And it's a soft tongue you've on you, Mr Robert, for all that you're an Army man. Aye, and the devil's got your soul but your heart is all your own."
And with those strange words she turned and went off for a sleep.
no subject
Date: 2010-11-05 08:24 am (UTC)Any background information: this is somewhere middle-ish in the first scene
Excerpt:
“Great.” Shaun reached for the reins, missed, tried again and after yet another miss settled for glaring at his horse. As if he had not known that it was evil already. Right. He snorted. First things first. “Never mind all that crap about prophecies and ages, what about that beast of yours?”
“It draws nearer still.”
Of course it did. Shaun had finally managed to get a hold of his horse - without getting his feet stomped on - and was rummaging through his saddlebags. Whatever beastie the seer had his beard in a tangle about could not be that bad. “Did you at least have some vision of how I am supposed to kill that fearsome beast of yours?”
“No.”
Uh-oh. The seer was glaring at him again. Just wonderful. The old bat knew probably exactly what was coming after them and just did not feel like sharing.
“Ouch.” Shaun jerked his finger back. Blood, even better. Especially with some supposed unidentified beat out there. So much for allowing other people to pack his saddlebags. Considering how his luck was going the beast would probably turn out to be a raging hippogriff falling onto their heads. Or maybe an enraged dragon. Even if dragons were supposed to be extinct. “By the way,” Shaun fished his newly-found daggers out of the leather bag, “you never told me your name.”
“I had no reason to.”
“Of course not,” Shaun muttered under his breath and rolled his eyes, “it might have made you easier to have around after all.” A twig broke; something moved through the underbrush. Shaun followed the movement from the corner of his eye, pretending to be preoccupied with the flaps of his saddlebags. The seer would probably rather die than move anyway. There! He propelled himself forward, dagger at the ready, determined to kill before he could be killed. His brain had barely registered that he had launched himself at thin air as he already slammed into the ground, even skidding a bit. A groan escaped from his lips. Damn. Why did it always have to be his left knee? The dagger! He pushed himself up on his elbows, groped for his dagger and come face to face with - something. Shaun giggled, twisted his neck to look pointedly at the seer and then collapsed into peals of laughter as the roughly ankle-high, rabbit-like creature hopped a bit closer. It was small, fuzzy and really looked too much like a rabbit. Except for the wings and the antlers. He pushed himself to his knees and held out his hands. Within the blink of an eye the little critter had jumped into them, snuggling close to Shaun’s chest and making sounds that sounded suspiciously like a purr. It really was as soft as it was fuzzy.
“So,” he balanced the critter on one arm and picked up his dagger, “is this your beast or is there something else out there?”
The seer looked as though he had just bitten into an extremely rotten fruit.
“I saw a mighty beast with feathered wings as black as the night and the breath of a dragon.”
“Yes… well, it does have wings.” Wait. Shaun frowned. Dragon? Breath? “It breathes fire?”
This time it was the seer’s turn to grin maliciously.
The critter hit the nearest shrub, rustled to the ground and hopped back towards them. Shaun eyed it warily. The thing was sitting right in the middle of the road and looking rather displeased with being thrown about. A small puff of black smoke erupted from the critter’s nostrils.
“Beast!” Shaun yelped, taking another step backwards.
“Why yes, thank you.” Shaun opened and closed his mouth a few times as the thing positively preened. “It’s so nice of you to say that.”
“What is it?” Shaun had really hoped that the seer would - just this once - say something useful but the old man just shrugged.
“I,” the creature hopped from one foot to the other and fixed Shaun with a beady stare, “am Grendel.”
“Grendel.” Shaun blinked.
“It’s a family name.”
“I see.” Shaun racked his brain for something at least semi-intelligent to say. “Grendel like that swamp-troll-thing that ate the Count of Lorres’s court a few years back?”
“Good gracious, no! There is absolutely no family connection! My kin would never eat any human without sufficient provocation.”
no subject
Date: 2010-11-05 09:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-05 09:59 am (UTC)It's eerily fitting, though, since Grendel will turn out to be rather manipulative and masterminding quite a bit about the prophecy. :) unless my plot decides to take on a life of its own and get rid of that particular twist
no subject
Date: 2010-11-05 08:29 am (UTC)Any background information: Fantasy, but more weird than epic. Context for this is that one character has been out on a ridge alone during a thunderstorm, and he's just been discovered by a small group of wagons.
Excerpt:
The wagons stopped where the road met his outcrop. "Do you need a hand over there?"
He stood easily and turned to face them. Several people, all men, all clad in clothing that marked them as local men. That immediately put him on alert; he'd yet to receive even the slightest bit of hospitality from anyone in this gods-forsaken region.
"I appreciate the offer, but I am fine." He scowled inwardly at the small cloud of steam that accompanied his words. It didn't seem quite fair that the first people he had seen all day long would have to come by while he was venting the excess heat from a recharge. Solrisha would say the gods were having a laugh at his expense if zie were here.
A couple of the men shifted their weight in what would be a subtle move for their weapons if he wasn't so familiar with and expecting such a move. The two he guessed to be the leaders started speaking with each other in a language he didn't know, though the somewhat-cocky tones they used told him enough.
He held his hands up to show he wasn't holding anything. "I mean you no harm."
"Open that cloak, and we'll believe you!" one of them called. A couple of the others took a few steps forward onto the rock, though they didn't draw their weapons just yet.
He did so, moving carefully.
"You don't look worth a thousand steel."
Bounty hunters. He narrowed his eyes. So that irritating mage wasn't going to let him go so easily; he should've expected this. "Perhaps I'm not," he said coolly. "Are you sure you have the right man?"
"Oh, I'm sure we do. Large man with dark hair and no weapons, traveling alone, not human... Sounds like you, doesn't it?"
Skyward lowered his arms to his sides. "If you think you can capture me, you're welcome to try. I will correct you on one detail, however..." He flicked his arms outwards, extending the blades on both of his forearms. "I'm not weaponless."
no subject
Date: 2010-11-05 08:39 am (UTC)Any background information: Maria's just moved into residence at college halfway across the country.
Excerpt:
Saying goodbye to my mum isn’t as hard for me as for some others – mostly because, for the next day, she’ll be at a hotel just in town, making sure I’ve not left out anything crucial I can’t afford to pay for. Still, she gets a huge hug from me before she hops back into her taxi.
“Thanks for coming, Mama,” I mumble into her wiry hair. Her tweed jacket is a nice place to scrunch my nose into. Yes, I’ll miss her, if you were wondering.
“Of course I came, doll,” she nods. “I’ll be back again tomorrow with your space heater. I know you don’t think you need one, but it’s better to be equipped.” We separate, and she looks me up and down in the way of parents astonished at how fast their children grow. Then, of course, she tries to fix my hair. “We could have dinner together before I leave?”
no subject
Date: 2010-11-05 01:32 pm (UTC)Any background information: Ben is complaining about being in high school and taking finals, and elementary school is the worst time of everyone's lives.
Excerpt:
"Do you even remember elementary school?" she asks, turning to the side to slide past him in the tiny entrance to the family room. She walks with slow, planned steps, avoiding the floorboards that make the most noise, wincing when her toes touch the edge of one and it moans low and sad underneath her. “No, better question, did you ever read Dante?”
“No, Jesus,” he says, falling backwards onto the sofa and shutting his eyes, “of course I haven’t.”
“Well, elementary school is like some awful mix of the first two levels of hell.” She stands behind the sofa and stares down at him until he opens his eyes again, squinting up. “With, like, extra wrath and sullenness on top. I hate teenagers.”
“You are a teenager,” he says. “Not a very good one, but still.”
no subject
Date: 2010-11-05 06:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-05 07:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-05 08:09 pm (UTC)AND HEY, were you the one who made this icon? This is one of my 'needs-credit' pics. D:
no subject
Date: 2010-11-05 08:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-05 08:37 pm (UTC)That icon makes any comment 10x more outrageous. AND JON STEWART OHMYGOD I'M MELTING.
no subject
Date: 2010-11-06 03:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-06 04:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-06 04:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-06 05:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-05 05:23 pm (UTC)He closes his eyes for a minute when something changes-- instead of looking out over the brisk autumn day, he feels it, the wind buffeting his skin and toying with his clothes and hair. "What the--?"
"I leave you alone for a few days so you can rest and you look like you've barely slept an hour," a familiar, chiding voice calls over the gusts, startling him as he spins around. Alison Williams stands behind him, a jacket held out to him. "Put it on," she directs the shellshocked man, her lips twitching as she looks at him. "You really do look exhausted."
He grumbles, pulling the article of clothing on while she stares. "Yeah, well, it's hard to shut my brain up after our first, memorable meeting..."
"Yeah, that was interesting, wasn't it?" She looks unimpressed as he flaps his arms a couple of times to get the sleeves to fall just so.
Helias' Children: Grey Daughter
Date: 2010-11-05 05:48 pm (UTC)Any background information:It was a dark and stormy night…
Excerpt:
Walking slowly through the dark halls he came into the main temple room and found nothing but a shivering figure lying on the floor. Rymyn had nearly run off, afraid that he’d gone too far into the night.
Instead of running, he walked slowly towards the figure, one hand tucked around his back to grip a knife he kept there. The darkness of the room seemed more oppressive than the darkness of the night outside but Rymyn could see enough of the cloaked person to realize that it was only an old, frail man. The cloak he wore was a heavy material and was covered with dirt and dust. He lay on his back staring up into the darkness.
“Dark Tidings, father,” Rymyn said softly so as to not startle the man. The man did not respond, did not blink, only shivered.
“Are you ill or injured?” Rymyn asked as he took a few more steps forward. He allowed himself to relax slightly and reached out towards the man. “Is there… ack!”
Rymyn jumped backwards as the man moved suddenly and grabbed for him. He tripped over a loose stone and went sprawling to the floor, his knife tumbling out of its leather holder and skittering across the floor to be lost in the void.
“HeliasAerionMeritoLithiaTurlog… HeliasAerionMeritoLithiaTurlog.. HeliasAerionMeritoLithiaTurlog…” the old man crawled towards Rymyn chanting something he could not understand. Rymyn pushed himself to his feet and backed away quickly.
“HeliasAerionMeri…” The old man stopped suddenly, his empty eyes staring up at Rymyn. His echoing words slowly dispersed and all that was left was the sound of ragged breathing.
“What… I…” Rymyn wasn’t sure how to proceed. He felt like it was wrong to leave a blind man alone in a temple but, at the same time, that blind man seemed to belong there far more than he did.
“Don’tknow” the man replied quickly.
“Don’t know what?” Rymyn asked him. He swallowed heavily and took a few steps toward where the man was still kneeling on the floor.
“Don’tknow… anything,” the man replied.
“No name? No past?” Rymyn knelt down so that he could better see the man’s face in the gloom.
“No name. No past.” The man repeated. “No Gods. No more.”
no subject
Date: 2010-11-05 07:05 pm (UTC)Any background information: It's a bit self-explanatory~
Excerpt:
I’m a coffee stain spilled beside a breadcrumb. That’s another metaphor, you know, written with every intention of putting you in the right mood for what’s to come.
Of course, when you’re reading about a demon, there never really is a right mood, I’d say.
And there I’ve gone, poisoning the main course before I’ve even prepared the appetizer.
Let’s reiterate for those not paying attention—you know who you are. I know who you are, and if you think this flippant, half-assed job of skimming is going to cut it, well, it’s not.
Demon. D-E-M-O-N. That’s an acronym for something, but it’s not in your language, and if I said the words you might spontaneously combust. You’re welcome.
Now, let’s get past this nasty issue of spiritual morality. I’ve been called a lot of things in my day—Devourer, Corrupter, Monster of the Pit, Soul-Sucker—and it’s time to get a few things straight. For one, I do not suck souls. That is completely unsanitary, and besides, that’s Leviathan’s job. Monster of the Pit? Oh come on, dears, could you be more geographically inaccurate? The Pit’s been closed for renovations, and the timeshares there are absolutely horrendous. As for everything else—Delegator of Debauchery, Prince of Prostitution—well, I suppose there is some hope for your sources.
no subject
Date: 2010-11-05 07:54 pm (UTC)Demon. D-E-M-O-N. That’s an acronym for something, but it’s not in your language, and if I said the words you might spontaneously combust. You’re welcome.
I love it.
no subject
Date: 2010-11-05 07:08 pm (UTC)Any background information: This is actually a fanfic for the webcomic Goodbye Chains. This totally counts toward my nano. Totally.
Excerpt:
Even when I was so mad at your strangeness I could hardly see—and believe me, Lord, this was not infrequent—I couldn’t do it. Every time I worked up the nerve, I thought about how I’d feel if you were gone and I’d have done it—and I stayed my hand. So when it comes to you, I guess I’m saying there’s a lot I can forgive. You see what I’m getting at, Col—?”
But before he could finish I stopped him. Now, when I look back, I find these words to be scathing. “Uh, okay.” It was said so carelessly at the time. You know, really I was led to believe that these words were just pleasantries. Banquo used to always be full of himself. Why, it was an odd day when you didn’t see him not dressed in the finest of clothes. He always hired the finest of whores, too. Still, as much of a complete and utter jackass that he could be…well, the man stopped me from eating mountain oysters. Something I will be forever indebted to him, if only because not even the poorest of man would feast upon such an atrocity.
Then again, Banquo was Banquo. For all his pleasantries and cunning, he never once betrayed me. Sure, he may have only given me a third of the payout from time to time, but he always was there to lend me a hand when it counted. And, really, damn him. Damn him, damn him, damn that Banquo to hell. Every day I look at my reflection, every time I look up at the sky and stars, you know what I see?
Him.
November 2nd, 1884. I buried him that day. I buried Banquo and all of our dreams with him. The wounds are still fresh even though they are scars, and the tears are still fresh even though I ran out of them long ago. I find myself drinking now, drinking to pass the time away and drinking in the name of Banquo. Perhaps he damns me to the deepest pits of hell. Ah, but I do not believe I will go there, because I do not believe in something as petty as a God.
For some time I believed myself to be a revolutionary. Perhaps I was, at one time, but I went about it in all the wrong ways. I’ll never forget that day that we blew the bridge sky high. I’ll never forget that smell of death and charred bodies. Most of all, I will never forget how angry Banquo had become. It seems that in our last days together we both had been angry, tired. Tired of all the lies we kept and bad company.
Still, I reckon that bad company is much better than the company of an empty bottle of Whiskey.
So I stand by his grave and ponder this. Bitterly, longingly, I smile and drop on my knees beside him. He’s there in spirit, I can feel him. He’s all around me, and my God, the sadness and incredulousness is overwhelming. He smiles at me, so gently that I feel as if my heart is beating again. There’s a quiet, gentle understanding between us. We cannot touch, but we long for our fingers to be entwined and our hearts to become one.
“I should have known.” His voice is hoarse, lacking all the mockery, but holds such an unbearable amount of sadness all I can do is stare, breathing in the cold midnight air.
“You should have.”
We fall into a peaceful silence as snow begins to fall around us. I shiver and out of instinct he moves a bit closer. He phases through me and we both smile awkwardly. Then, quietly, his voice comes again. “Why look, Mister Lord, the angels are weeping for us.”
“I don’t believe in angels, Banquo.” It’s a chiding reminder. He always seems to forget. However, he smiles at me in such a pleading manner that I have to pause and recant. My entire body trembles and my voice cracks, hands scraping across the cold dirt. “Ban—Banquo. Perhaps, this once, I’ll believe in them for you.”
All was silent, the wind didn’t even whisper its eerie cries.
Yes, the Lord was weeping for both Banquo and I that day.
no subject
Date: 2010-11-05 07:29 pm (UTC)Any background information: Jonathan's an FtM transvestite, Tir's a skyship captain and admiral of the Fleet, and the Fleet are meeting on some icy, rocky island in the Arctic circle.
And I didn't realise my accidental title-reference until long after I wrote it.
Excerpt: After a moment’s consideration, Tir nodded. “Agreed. And, while we are on the topic of worthwhile men...”
I was no longer listening, frustrated by how little I understood, and it took a sharp nudge in the ribs from Grace for me to realise that he was looking directly at me – and that, since his gaze was so pointedly fixed on me, so were those of most of the gathering. I swallowed, hard.
“Doubtless,” he continued, and there was something of a hard edge to his voice, “a number of you have seen Dr. Wells aboard the Managarmr. Doubtless you have wondered what a man was doing aboard. I have wondered the same. This very morning, I asked it of Kali – and her answer was an astonishing one.
“Friends, the doctor is more than valuable to us. The compact states that no man may set foot aboard the women’s ships, nor a women aboard the men’s. This, we all know, else such meetings would be almost meaningless. The men are among men. The women, among women.
“But Jonathan Wells is among both.”
no subject
Date: 2010-11-06 08:47 am (UTC)On Earth's first generation ship...
Date: 2010-11-05 07:46 pm (UTC)“I would not presume to term it thusly. I have experienced a wonderful awakening. It could be the blessed enlightenment of which our masters speak, but it could also be merely a drop in the bucket of attainable wisdom.”
“And what of you, Madame Bandari? Have you been awakened as well?”
"In a way.” Her voice had always been soft and is now barely more than a whisper. I leaned forward to hear, more because of her volume than because of the accent she carried from her Earth days. “I have not experienced a full awakening as my husband has. I was out loving the garden, as I always do when the weather allows. I was gathering melons and musing upon how the relationship between humans and their worlds has evolved over time. It is my fervent hope that people have learned to respect their resources, so that we can thrive wherever we land rather than slowly killing it off as with Earth. We respect the land more and have made huge strides in the last thousand years, but if we understood it at a deeper level, we could modify – and perhaps help - a near-perfect planet rather than seek endlessly for second Earths.”
“Deep thoughts for the garden,” I said.
“It does happen,” Mother said dryly. “So, how did this manifest? Can you lead us to a habitable planet?”
“I'm afraid I know nothing about that. But it seems that I can make faltering melon vines strengthen and take new root, and that the melons I pour love into as I pick taste sweeter than those absently pulled off the vine.”
“You're not joking, are you?”
“I'm afraid not,” Anayis reached for one of the potted violets that sat on my desk. She closed her eyes with her hand cupped around it, and suddenly the wilted brown flowers lying against the soil stood up, their color and strength returning. We all gasped.
Naseem said, “But these gifts are accessible to all! That is the nature of it.”
“Is it? Everyone's gifts?” I did not see them as such. “Flying and returning to youth? Or do you mean inadvertently killing someone, or turning another person into a vampire?”
Naseem licked his lips. “People are creating things in their lives, whether they realize it or not. Those who attain such gifts consciously would know better than to wield them for death. I believe this in my heart.”
“It all seems pretty random to me. If you could teach me this great secret, I would certainly appreciate it.”
“I can walk with you as you tread that path, but I cannot pull you along it.” He looked sad. “I am not certain I understand what happened to the crew yesterday morning, not completely, but I do believe that we have been shown that we all wield inner power, and now it is our duty to teach our children how to wield it for good.”
"It wasn't all of us though. Many who received these gifts don't want anything to do with them.” I sighed, no longer feeling centered. It almost felt as if I could recapture that feeling by sharing Naseem's smile, but I struggled against those urges as manipulative, not that I think he meant it as such.
“Will you both do me the favor of being discreet until we figure things out? We can't have even more panic among the crew.” I hated the idea of people flocking to the newly enlightened as a cult-like answer to this sudden upheaval in our world. The mission first and foremost. “Madame Bandari, can you give me your word that you will not use this gift too much? I worry how it might upset the balance of our farm system until we've tested these powers more completely.”
“Of course, Captain.”
I watched them go, hoping that they would keep to their word. That all of the affected crew would be able, and willing, to control their new powers. The Akupara Project relied most heavily upon the Captain's sovereignty. We have enjoyed a mostly peaceful existence since we left Earth, and any rebellion had long ago been squashed by my mother during her Captaincy. One could not have a democracy or theocracy when stuck in a box together in space. Control has to remain in the hands of those trained for it, not those who are the most charismatic, or those who gain new unfathomable powers.
A thought that opened a pit in my stomach when I thought of my poor young apprentice, Neal.
no subject
Date: 2010-11-05 09:28 pm (UTC)Any background information: A ghost is getting revenge on everyone who ever hurt her husband.
Excerpt:...[Thad] turned his head to look over his shoulder.
He saw nothing, but he felt something icy cold pass through him. Something gripped at his heart and he felt it being tugged from him.
He fell dead before the still beating organ ever left his body.
no subject
Date: 2010-11-05 09:43 pm (UTC)Any background information: Dublin, Early 1922, just after the end of the Irish Revolution.
Excerpt:
The best thing about knowing Brigid, Gilbert thought, was that she threw the best parties. Well, the best thing after the bloodlust and the booze, anyway. There was also the little matter of her being the only female Nation with the tendency to hug him out of nowhere, usually appearing from nowhere while she was at it. Like she was doing right now, in fact, bright laughter in his ears and the smell of clover and ocean clinging to her. So he hugged her in return, taking a deep breath of the scent he’d missed these last hundred years. “Hallo there, Beautiful,” he said cheerily, pointedly ignoring how she still felt overly thin under his hands. She pulled back enough to plant a firm kiss on his lips, green eyes sparkling just as they had decades ago.
“Dia duit, Preußen!” she cheered back, before releasing him to give Ludwig the same treatment, sans the kiss of course. “Me laoch beag, ye’ve grown ye have!” Ludwig looked around uncomfortably before awkwardly patting her on the shoulder.
“Perhaps ‘little warrior’ is no longer as appropriate a name as it once was, Tantchen” he replied stiffly, cheeks flushing. Brigid pulled back with a laugh, standing on her toes to cup one of his cheeks in hand.
“’Tis always me laoch beag ye’ll be for me, me dear, aye ye will,” she said seriously, looking him in the eye. “Still call me Maitiú ‘beag amháin,’ I do, and ‘tis no longer little he is.” Then she smiled again and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “Go mingle, me dear! ‘Tis a party!” Ludwig looked around, not entirely sure what exactly “mingling” entailed before his aunt poked at him. “Get a drink, at th’least. Find Conchobhar, have a wee chat.”
no subject
Date: 2010-11-06 04:46 am (UTC)Any background information: Gaslamp fantasy western, this is my male lead (mad scientist) talking about his latest project.
Excerpt:"It's a {something}," he explained, "it {does neat and incredible things}. Or at least it will; I haven't perfected it yet but early tests are promising."
((I posted this as my facebook status and one of my friends was like, "Is this God talking about creating man?"))