Another productive day for me and I have a snippet. :D
Illya waited until he was out of sight and then opened it. White clouds of steam preceded him and Mrs. Waverly laughed. “You know how to make an entrance, Mr. Kuryakin.”
“I do my best. It’s hard with Napoleon around. May I help you, Ma’am? He’s a bit indisposed at the moment.”
“Not sick, I trust?”
“Just attending to his toilet in case he bumps into Miss Lovelock again.”
“Is that the pretty girl with the horse or the sweet girl with the apron?”
“The first one.”
“I suspected as much. The reason I’m here is that I would very much like to stretch my legs. Alexander is busy studying the insides of his eyelids and I was hoping for an escort.”
Illya offered her his arm. “I would be delighted.”
Alas, my back is acting up. However, on the bright side, my brain is burbling with scenes to write once I’m upright again! Crossing fingers for a good upcoming weekend!
There has been something burbling in my head, but it doesn't really fit anywhere so I will leave it to simmer.
However I have written another drabble, this time the prompt was 'Weather Vane' and I will just put it all here (as well as at tolkien_weekly) as a drabble is little more than a snippet - and although set in Middle Earth it works even if you have no idea who these people are!
So - a drabble about being at sea;
The artists had so often been wrong, Tindómë thought. How many times had she seen paintings of ships sailing with billowing sails, brightly coloured pennants at the mastheads streaming behind.
Except, of course, the wind that picked up as they left the land behind was blowing from the East, filling the sails and pushing ‘The Heart of Eryn Ithil’ westwards. And the pennants at the mastheads flowed in it, as if they were weather vanes showing the direction and strength of the wind, pointing forward as if wishing to be the first to see their destination in the Utmost West.
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Yesterday I did some journaling instead of working on the Easter story. It was easy writing and also fun, as it was prompted by my visit with my sisters. Today I am working on my Easter story. No word count, it's a give and take, so the time spent is what I will count for today - a half hour in the morning and a good half hour just now.
Not much, a few scribbly descriptions and ideas again, but my attention was pretty well taken up with waiting for news of whether the world championships in my favourite sport would go ahead this weekend (I cannot believe I am officially a sports fan, but this proves it!) and I couldn't concentrate....
A relatively lazy day, after Tuesday's concentration - quite a lot of knitting, and 520 words about an unexciting walk. (I just couldn't face trying to do a wordcount on my tablet last night, because the new words were all mixed up with old ones.)
Quite near to the top, someone had cut a weird track into the field - a broad line of shorter grass, heading from nowhere in particular to nowhere in particular.
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Illya waited until he was out of sight and then opened it. White clouds of steam preceded him and Mrs. Waverly laughed. “You know how to make an entrance, Mr. Kuryakin.”
“I do my best. It’s hard with Napoleon around. May I help you, Ma’am? He’s a bit indisposed at the moment.”
“Not sick, I trust?”
“Just attending to his toilet in case he bumps into Miss Lovelock again.”
“Is that the pretty girl with the horse or the sweet girl with the apron?”
“The first one.”
“I suspected as much. The reason I’m here is that I would very much like to stretch my legs. Alexander is busy studying the insides of his eyelids and I was hoping for an escort.”
Illya offered her his arm. “I would be delighted.”
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Studying the insides of one's eyelids ought to be, you know, restful, though.
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However I have written another drabble, this time the prompt was 'Weather Vane' and I will just put it all here (as well as at
So - a drabble about being at sea;
The artists had so often been wrong, Tindómë thought. How many times had she seen paintings of ships sailing with billowing sails, brightly coloured pennants at the mastheads streaming behind.
Except, of course, the wind that picked up as they left the land behind was blowing from the East, filling the sails and pushing ‘The Heart of Eryn Ithil’ westwards. And the pennants at the mastheads flowed in it, as if they were weather vanes showing the direction and strength of the wind, pointing forward as if wishing to be the first to see their destination in the Utmost West.
...................
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The painted pennants aren't necessarily wrong, but if a tail wind is what you've got... :-) It's a lovely image, everything straining forwards!
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Learn more about LiveJournal Ratings in FAQ (https://www.dreamwidth.org/support/faqbrowse?faqid=303).
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Today I am working on my Easter story. No word count, it's a give and take, so the time spent is what I will count for today - a half hour in the morning and a good half hour just now.
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Quite near to the top, someone had cut a weird track into the field - a broad line of shorter grass, heading from nowhere in particular to nowhere in particular.
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