Day 11 (Team July)

[elmey.livejournal.com]

Good Morning!

Here's today's prompt for your writing updates and for any extracts, thoughts, or comments you might have.

Comments

[vilakins.livejournal.com]

I wrote 605 words at lunchtime, and also added the wordcount from the manual as people said I should which makes my total look better.



An excerpt in which Avon is talking to Cally about his Anna AKA Sula:

"[...] And all along she was an agent running me."

"You don't know that."

"Don't I? The families of traitors are sold into slavery, but there she was, safe and wealthy and married to Chesku. Chesku," he whispered, and banged his fist on his knee. "Why Chesku? A new identity and a husband in the top echelon? Was that a reward or another assignment?"

Cally was silent, thinking of Chesku, shot in the back and his clothes used for a disguise. It could not have been a love match to say the least. "You said to me not so long ago that regret should be kept a small part of life." She reached forward and touched his hand lightly before leaving.

Avon waited until the door was closed. "And I said it so easily."

[el-staplador.livejournal.com]

I have posted the first chapter! I plan to update every Wednesday, this being fairly reliably a day that I don't have much on. Here it is: http://archiveofourown.org/works/457304

[stevie-carroll.livejournal.com]

Heirs and Graces

Phase 3 -- July's writing:



More words today, and Edward is in search of advice:

"You've always played a risky game," Raymond said, not looking up from the table he was aging. "I thought I'd drilled that into you from the start."

"It's not just me now."

"It was never just you. What about Julia, and those artistic friends the pair of you keep around?"

"Julia's always been able to look after herself." Against most people anyway. "And Nicky can look after himself and Bridie."

"There's only one way I can see this working," Raymond said through a cloud of lacquer. "Bring Connie in on the game, and out into the open. Pass her off as Reynard's mistress, if you don't want the hassle of another wedding, and don't fancy the idea of living with her. That way no one will pay the slightest bit of attention to however many men you put on security detail."

[elmey.livejournal.com]

Still poking around in the first half, this is later in the scene where Napoleon is trying to get to the bottom of what's wrong with his partner. If you know the show, you might recognize what canon event precipitated this whole thing. Or not ;)


(Napoleon) poured a splash of scotch and drank it quickly, then poured more into the glass. He brought it to Illya, hesitated a moment, then hitched up his pant leg and sat on the arm of the couch.

He watched as his his partner held the tumbler in both hands, swirled the liquid around once, then raised the glass and emptied it. He continued to hold it loosely clasped in his hands, looking down into it, making no attempt to break the silence. Napoleon took a deep breath. "No. It wasn't you, Illya. It wasn't you. He bragged to me that he had betrayed you. Mandor was using us."

"He was using Uncle. Uncle was using him." Illya was matter of fact.

"He was using me." Napoleon's voice was bitter as he thought again of Mandor's words. He felt Illya's eyes on him, his dawning comprehension.

[jenn-calaelen.livejournal.com]

~200 words on the Firiel story, partly because I got distracted into doing more research and partly because writing feels like a struggle at the moment, so no snippet today

[six-old-cars.livejournal.com]

I did manage some lunch-time writing - about 400 words I think - but had no Internet last night (again!) to post anything. With luck I'll be able to do so tonight with today's count.

[saki101.livejournal.com]

I'm not sure how I did this, but somehow when replying to one of the comments on my snippet, I managed to delete it. Well, for the sake of completeness, I'm sticking it back here at the end, but the comments are up above under the "deleted comment" bar. :X

Scattered across the months, there had been dreams, scented with half-heard words. They had left behind an odd cheer that would last for days, but they had been without form. It had surprised John, that the visual realism of his nightmares had never lent his dreams a single pale curve. He had yearned to see, had suffered for not seeing. The lamp in the corner had a halo around it. John brushed a hand over his eyes.

Sorry about that!