*scrambles for something to post*
Yep, this one sneaked up on me, mostly because I fail at writing right now. Since I can’t handle that, I’m reading over Bound and making more notes (the never-ending cycle), which makes that my active work in progress, which makes that the one I’m posting from this week. Apologies to anyone who wanted more vampires, I’ll get back to them after JuNoWriMo. Probably.
Since I haven’t revised chapter 29 yet (and I’m fiddling with chapter divisions, anyway), let’s go with the 29th scene, which also happens to be the one I was revising when I decided to take a little break. Coincidence? Absolutely. đ
Just a few things you need to know: Rowan and Aren are on the road, trying to find a cure for her *mumble mumble* and headaches before Aren’s brother finds them, and he wants them because of all of THE EVIL REASONS (I swear it’s explained better in the story). They were stuck out in a rainstorm with a lame horse and with people chasing them, so when the opportunity to spend the night with a group of semi-nomadic performers presented itself, Rowan decided they should take it, in spite of Aren not wanting help from anyone he doesn’t know and trust. They were welcomed by a man named Bartilae, who is the community’s leader, and Rowan gave him fake names when she introduced herself and Aren. We already know that Bartilae’s daughter is named Patience… and I think that’s all you need to know. Oh, and this chapter is told by Aren.
–
A thin-faced girl with bright ribbons braided into her hair stumbled out of the crowd of running children and dropped onto the cushion between me and Bartilae. âWill we have a show, Father?â
âI think not tonight, my love. We havenât unpacked here, an our guests are weary from their travels. Another day.â The girl pouted, and when the children passed by again she flounced off to join them. Bartilae sighed. âSometimes I wonder why we name our children before we know them well. Iâm not holding much hope of that one growing into hers.â
When the meal was finished, many of the adults bundled into their shawls, capes, or jackets and headed out into the storm. Two white-haired old women stayed behind, huddled close to a cluster of burning torches, and half a dozen other adults sat talking, occasionally sending curious glances our way. The tent smelled of damp wool and burnt wood, but it was far more pleasant than being outside.
Rowan scooted closer to me. âHow was your meal, dear?â
âJust wonderful, Penelope, oh light of my life,â I replied dryly, and she stifled a giggle behind her hand. âNice names. Where did those come from?â
âI once had a goat named Penelope.â
âAnd Doug?â
âI have no idea.â
I didnât want to talk too much about what we were doing, not with other people possibly listening, but it couldnât be avoided completely. âWe canât stay here. We know nothing about these people.â
She rolled her eyes. âDo you think everyone is after us? Theyâre Wanderers. I really doubt theyâre working for Severn; they barely acknowledge a king on either side of the mountains. If anything, theyâre staying out of it. They donât know who we are, anyway. Youâre too suspicious.â
âAnd youâre too trusting!â
âWell, I guess that evens it out then, doesnât it?â
I didnât know how to answer that. There wasnât time to, anyway; a woman we hadnât met yet was coming toward us with clothing folded over both arms. âHello, my dears. Iâm Alys. Jein thought you might like to borrow some dry things while your own are drying.â I reached into my pack. Everything was damp.
âThank you,â I said, and she nodded.
âIf you go through the door over there you can get changed in the storage space. Itâs small, but I donât suppose that will be a problem.â She winked, then walked toward the old women. Rowan flashed me a smug smile and carried both piles of clothing toward the storage room.
We took turns changing in a small space that was packed with piles of boxes and burlap sacks, and that smelled of onions and spices. Alys took our wet things and disappeared through another flap in the side of the tent, returning moments later. âHow big is this place, anyway?â Rowan asked me, stretching to try to look through the doorway.
âItâs probably a few interconnected tents. Iâm sure when you spend most of your time traveling, you figure these things out.â
âI guess. Bartilae was right, though. Odd time of year for them to be out. Wanderers only ever visited in the summer, back home.â
Patience dashed in out of the rain wearing a pink dress that she had to hold up to keep out of the mud, and a floppy red hat that dripped rainwater everywhere. She was followed by a motley band of seven other children, the youngest just a few years old, all dressed in odd and colorful clothes. âLadies and gentlemen and extinguished guests!â she bellowed, and Alys chuckled. âPreeeeeesenting the finest show in the entire world!â
âOh, I love the theatre,â Rowan said, and joined in the scattered applause that was nearly drowned out by the rain. Patienceâs voice had no such problem. She bellowed out a rough program that sounded like it would drag on for hours. When she finished, Rowan clapped again, then stood. âCome on,â she said. âWe should get better seats.â
âYouâre joking.â
She frowned down at me. âDouglas Anderson, are you telling me that youâre too important and busy right now to enjoy a show performed by the great actors of the future?â Once again I didnât know how to argue with her, and we took seats close to the area the children were clearing for their show.
–
I wish I could keep going; this leads into one of my favourite scenes in the whole book, an odd little semi-tangent with an entertaining and disorganized play, a bit of character development and OH THE FEELINGS, but I haven’t finished revising that yet. Â It would be too long to post here, anyway.
So that’s it for this WIPpet Wednesday. This little party is hosted by K.L. Schwengel over at My Random Muse; stop by to say hi, and click on the linkie to see the other WIPpeteers’ posts and to add your own if you’d like to join in. The only rules are that you post a bit from a work in progress, and that it relates to today’s date on some way (29 lines, chapter 29, something to do with a 5 for the the month… WIPpet math is very flexible!)
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For today’s #ROW80 update… sadly, I’ve got nothing. I’m taking this week to do a bit more reading and revising on Bound (maybe… this is not a good time for me to be judging my own work) and to get my notes in order for working on Torn next month. I’m hoping I’ll get my writing mojo back so I can do my 2,000 words a day for JuNoWriMo (and OK, am I the only one who says that and hears Agador from The Birdcage asking why I’m not writing more? “Why ju no wri’ mo? When ju gonna let me be in your cho’, huh? Wait, dere’s CHRIMPS!”)
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