A Huntress is Born, Lives, and Stalks Through My Fantasies…

Monthly Archives: December 2013

 It’s #WIPpet Wednesday –K.L. Schwengel’s brainchild which encourages writers to move their WIPs (works-in-progress) to publication by posting excerpts related to the date.

WIPpet Math:

Today is December 25, 2013.

  • Today’s math is simple. 25 lines for the date, then a bonus birthday gift for my lifelong friend and soulsister, Eden Mabee – and a Christmas treat for everyone else.

Eden’s been missing Henry and Tisira, so this week we’ll stay with Trueborn Weft series fantasy WIP, Chameleon’s Dish.

In the dangerously superstitious past of Shakespeare’s England, an amnesiac girl and a foundling boy must keep her strange nature hidden as they stalk her lost identity.

We rejoin Henry and his wild mate, Nockatee, at the White Hart Inn, in London, where they’ve gone to trade and to seek the words Nockatee feels hold the answer to the mystery of her identity.

This snippet occurs the morning following last week’s WIPpet, The White Hart.It’s the companion volume to Bounded by a Nutshell (Trueborn Warp Series Star Trek fan fiction). The words discovered here are referenced earlier in the WIP, and were shared in a previous WIPpet, Words, Words, Words.

She went to the small, plain ewer and basin in the corner, and splashed noisily for a few moments, as though she could sluice away all questions and disturbing thoughts in so doing.

Then she turned back to him and said, all in a breath, “At what time will the players perform, Henry, and where? Will there be Shakespeare? I should not like to miss it, if there is.”

Henry smiled, and tried to put aside the worries of last night, when Tisira had been so near, and so threatening in her strangeness. This morn, she was his Nockatee, and mayhap that was enough.

“I will ask, when we go to break our fast. Who will milk our Nanny?”

“I will tend her. Let’s give the milk we can’t drink to the inn.” Her eyes brightened, and she licked her lips. “Do you think there will be more mutton stew?”

Henry laughed at her expression. “If there be any left, I think there will not be, once you have done with it!”

They passed their morning, after that, in busyness. Nockatee tended to Nanny, who was happy in a large stall. While Henry was tending the morning fire in the greatroom, he learned that the players would arrive at one o’clock, and that they would be performing Hamlet.

Nockatee was settled in his  mind, all morn, and the name ‘Hamlet’ passed, several times, through her thoughts, as though trying to attach to something, and – almost – succeeding. But, each time, whatever it was drifted back into the dark places she could not touch within herself.

And then, at last, the play started, and she sat rapt and straight on the bench beside him, with that air that minded him of a hunting cat again, as though she might sit there, never moving, forever.She was so beautiful that Henry could hardly breathe, and he could attend to the play not at all. There was only her, and her unblinking attention…

“DOUBT THAT THE STARS ARE FIRE
DOUBT THAT THE EARTH DOTH MOVE
DOUBT TRUTH TO BE A LIAR
BUT NEVER DOUBT I LOVE.”

And Nockatee made a little gasping jump on the bench they shared, and her hand gripped his – hers so tight and strong that his bones creaked upon each other, and he could feel all of her softening calluses. Her eyes were wide and aglow with hope, her mind afire now with new certainty – and new questions.

These are the words!” she whispered on a breath, holding them tightly within her, as a treasure.

 

There we have it – Nockatee has found her words, at last. But will she come to understand what they mean, and why they’re important?

For December,pick the WIP, and POV character! If you have a favorite, don’t be shy! Someone decides, and it could be you! This WIP is the default.

And here’s an excerpt just for Nockatee and Tisira:

Want more WIPpets? Click the cute little blue froggy to read and/or join in yourself!

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It’s #WIPpet Wednesday !

 K.L.Schwengel’s brainchild encourages writers to move their WIPs (works-in-progress) to publication by posting excerpts related to the date.

WIPpet Math:

Today is December 18, 2013.

  • I added the month and the date: 12+18=30.
  • I then added the digits of the year: 2=0=1=3=6; 30+6=36.
  • I subtracted 2, for the number of weeks left to the year: 36-2=4.
  • Today’s offering is 34 sentences.

Eden Mabee offered a favorite for this week’s WIPpet Wednesday, so this week I offer a snippet of my Trueborn Weft series fantasy WIP, Chameleon’s Dish.

In the dangerously superstitious past of Shakespeare’s England, an amnesiac girl and a foundling boy must keep her strange nature hidden as they stalk her lost identity.

We rejoin Henry and his wild mate, Nockatee, at the White Hart Inn, in London, where they’ve gone to trade and to seek the words Nockatee feels hold the answer to the mystery of her identity.

This snippet occurs shortly after the events of my previous WIPpet, Tisira, Named. It’s the companion volume to Bounded by a Nutshell (Trueborn Warp Series Star Trek fan fiction.)

“Your friend is as fine a worker as ye, Henry lad.” Goodman Thomas was a round man given to cheery laughter; now he set steaming stale bread trenchers before them. Nockatee’s nose wrinkled as she scented the mutton stew, and then she licked her lips and set to. Henry slid a little ways down the bench from her; she had that look, almost, that she had when she savaged the rabbit.

Goodman Thomas backed off half a step, eyeing Nockatee warily. ” He wants table manners, though. Best ye eat offhours, lads, but if ye’ll sweep the dining room, wipe the tables, and clean the dinner pots, I will be sure that your goat has oats and a stall, and ye’ll have full porridge bowls, at fastbreaking.”

What say you, Nockatee?” But she only made a sound that might have been answer, or a snarl of warning. “I will haply work, Goodman Thomas, and I thank you most heartily for the kindness.”

The innkeeper shook his head and turned back to Henry rather than watch Nokatee attacking her meal.“Those dishes you brought with you, Henry lad. My wife favors them, and bid me offer you coin, and a room for the season, if you will sell them to us.”

“They are Nockatee’s dishes, and so it is -” he caught himself at the shadow of warning in her eyes and the stronger caution of her presence in his mind. A deep breath, and he said, carefully, “His choice.”

Mayhap it were better I ask later, then…when he is not eating.”

But Nockatee, ever full of surprises, had another. She set aside her spoon, sipped the wetted flat beer with a wrinkled nose, and then said,”I will sell them – Henry, will you set the price? I know little enough of that manner of trading.” And then she went back to the trencher, as though she would not stop until there was nary a crumb remaining for the roaches to feed upon.

Later, when the dishes had been unpacked in the serving nook, and the dining room and pots gleamed with care, they went to their tiny room up under the thatched eaves. 

There was a narrow ticking bed, which would demand that they sleep snuggled together, and a near as wide as the room opening above the courtyard, which was quiet with the night chill and the season. They opened it, and sat together on the bed before it, looking out.

This is the place where the play will be performed?” Nockatee’s voice was faraway, and her language strange in Henry’s ears, almost like when he had first found her there beneath that ancient pine. Aye, she was more Tisira now then his Nockatee, and there was something in it that clutched at his heart, for fear that he would lose her to that other, unknown life.

Aye. In this courtyard, and in others. We have coin enough to go to as many as it takes for you to hear your words.”

She nodded, and her lovely blue eyes reflected starlight as she gazed upon the heavens, her expression faraway. In his mind, too, she was – dimmer? – than she had been, earlier. Almost as if she were elsewhere – elsewhere, in the life Tisira had lived. But was there a place for him, in that other life?

He touched her hand, and, gently, stroked her presence in his mind. He only wanted her to know that he was with her, and would be, as the words they had spoken promised.

He held to a hope, as he curled into the bed, with her warmth against him, that whatever was of Tisira within her wanted to keep the promise his Nockatee had made.

There we have it – Henry and Nockatee have a room, and a plan to find her words. But will finding her identity mean the sacrifice of the life they now share?

For December,pick the WIP, and POV character! If you have a favorite, don’t be shy! Someone decides, and it could be you

Here’s a song for Henry,  Nockatee, and the shadowy presence of Tisira …

Want more WIPpets? Click the cute little blue froggy to read and/or join in yourself!


 It’s #WIPpet Wednesday !

K.L,Schwengel’s brainchild encourages writers to move their WIPs (works-in-progress) to publication by posting excerpts related to the date.

WIPpet Math:

Today is December 11, 2013.

  • I added the month and the date: 12+11=23.
  • I then added the digits of the year. 2=0=1=3=6; 23+6=9.
  • And, as a holiday treat, I added 4, to give you my favorite number – 33 sentences total.

No one offered a favorite for this WIPpet, so here’s more of my Trueborn Warp series Star Trek fan fiction WIP, King of Shreds and Patches:

Spock and an enigmatic woman from a troubled time in his past struggle to save two worlds from alien threats, neither knowing whether their renewed connection will bring salvation or devastation.

We join Jim Kirk as he prepares to meet with Admiral Nogura, with the intent to get the Enterprise back. This scene occurs shortly after Jim’s previous WIPpet, “There’s a Thing Out There!”

This WIP is set in the time frame of Star Trek: The Motion Picture. Within the Trueborn double series, this WIP occurs before Spock discovers whether T’Lys is real, or a childhood delusion carried into adulthood. It’s the companion volume to Sima Garo Provides (Trueborn Weft Series), original fantasy.

He’d told Sonak the meeting wouldn’t last three minutes. Maybe the Old Man had spies on the landing platform, because he kept Jim waiting exactly that long before he entered his private conference room. Jim came to attention, and waited another minute for Nogura to acknowledge, and gesture him to a seat. Form was important to the Admiral.

“Now, then, Jim, what is it you wanted to talk about?

“With your permission, sir?” He held up the data chip with all his reports and analysis on it. Nogura nodded, and Jim inserted the chip, thinking of the other one, the one in his pocket, almost like he was carrying Spock around as a talisman.

Nogura listened to the spiel – the whole thing, which came in at two and a half minutes – he’d timed it.

“I believe, Admiral Nogura, that I am the only man for the job.”

Nogura watched him for another long minute, and the three Jim had projected stretched into four, with nothing decided. He couldn’t get the ship launched early if he didn’t get the command, then get over there. He started to feel the tension and pressure, but the small weight of Spock’s data chip in his pocket helped him to find calm again.

“I’m not sure there is a job to do, Jim – and you haven’t been in the center seat for over two years, now.”

“That is true. On the other hand, Decker hasn’t commanded anything other than a research craft, in space. And, for the last two years, he’s commanded a starship in drydock.”

“You recommended Captain Decker glowingly, Jim.”

“With the understanding that he’d have a five-year mission to cut his teeth on, Admiral, not a potentially vital mission to save the planet.”

“I’m not at all sure there is a need for a mission.”

“That thing is still headed on a direct course for Earth, Admiral. I’ve been tracking it – it’s incredibly fast. We won’t have a lot of time to act, if it turns out to be dangerous, and you’ve sent the Enterprise off somewhere else. Is that a chance we can afford to take, Admiral?”

Five minutes, now, and another while Nogura just sat there and watched him. Finally, he said, “You make a valid point. How long do you need to get the ship ready?”

“Twelve hours from the minute I set foot on that Bridge.”

Another minute ticked away. Jim mentally held Spock’s message in his mind, to calm himself.

“What else do you need?”

“I need Bones and Spock.”

“Do I need to remind you that they’ve both resigned their commissions?”

 

There we have it – a man with a mission, now accomplished. Will things go smoothly? Is he ready for this? Will Bones and Spock be found?

For December, pick the WIP, and POV character! If you have a favorite, don’t be shy! Someone decides, and it could be you! This WIP is the default.

And here’s a song for the returning Captain…

Want more WIPpets? Click the cute little blue froggy to read and/or join in yourself!


It’s #WIPpet Wednesday !

K.L,Schwengel’s brainchild encourages writers to move their WIPs (works-in-progress) to publication by posting excerpts related to the date.

WIPpet Math:

Today is December 4, 2013.

  • I added the month and the date: 12+4=16 paragraphs, post-NaNo edited.

Nobosy offered a favorite WIP for this WIPpet, so here’s more of my Trueborn Warp series Star Trek fan fiction, King of Shreds and Patches:

Spock and an enigmatic woman from a troubled time in his past struggle to save two worlds from alien threats, neither knowing whether their renewed connection will bring salvation or devastation.

We find Spock, kneeling upon the sands of Gol, cast away by the Kolinahru he hoped to join. This scene occurs before Amanda’s snippet, Prodigal Son.

This WIP is set in the time frame of Star Trek: The Motion Picture. Within the Trueborn double series, this WIP occurs before Spock discovers whether T’Lys is real, or a childhood delusion carried into adulthood. It’s the companion volume to Sima Garo Provides (Trueborn Weft Series), original fantasy.

I held the symbol of Kolinahr, cast upon the sands as I had thought my emotions to be. I caressed it, craving touch, craving T’Lys, craving the solace of the entity’s pure, layered, logic. Craving, too, the promise of nothingness Gol had offered – and which I had, in a single motion, rejected.

I had not known that I would lift my hand, and deny myself the peace, the prison, of Kolinahr, until I felt it lifting. I’d spent the threeday between alone upon the Forge, meditating, sobbing when I could not resist, but not allowing myself the pleasures of self-gratification – something within me was far too open, too yearning. I feared that, if I gave myself to those primal impulses, even once, I would not be able to stop short of giving myself over in another lifebond with T’Lys….

And still, I did not know if she was real, and had no way to ascertain it, unless I could find her…

I considered that course of action, considered leaving Gol and procuring a shuttle (how I would accomplish this, I knew not; I had released all my resources and holdings to others before joining the retreat here), and simply traveling in the direction that led to her….until I found her, ran out of fuel, or died. I was not certain that I cared which…

When I found myself running toward ShiKahr and its spaceport at midday, I knew that I had not attained Kolinahr, that I had only been hiding my emotions, even from myself. There was no logic in that, either…

I went back to the desert just beyond Gol, where I would not be seen, and turned to the entity again, away from T’Lys and the enticing chaos she had so often brought me.

But, “Sima garo provides,” she whispered, as I left her. Even in this, she inflamed my imagination, kept a part of me to herself, would not release me.

Then, as now. I was still unsure whether I had lifted my hand, or if she had – but the result was the same. I had made the staying gesture, and that invited the touch of the Master’s mind. Had I been seeking that out, all along – another mind to touch, to connect myself to? After so much separation, and isolation, could it truly be so simple as that I needed that connection, to something or someone? To anything or anyone, indiscriminately?

When she had touched my mind – it shamed me to remember, but there was no logic in that, nor in attempting to forget what was etched within memory; etched in flame – when she touched my mind, I responded first as a male, surging toward what was female within her, my telerotic centers, so open and filled with T’Lys, seeking hers, offering, pleading for her to see me only as a male – a male who wanted her, wanted to touch, to pleasure, to claim, to dance, to find the bliss of Attunement.

For a moment, she responded, and there was shock in it for both of us….we almost gave in to it, to the searing, surging power of it…

“No, Spock. I am not what you need.” Still, despite her words, she did not withdraw, instead offering soothing touches to the inflamed parts of my mind and my soul.

“In this breath, you are All.” But it was untrue, even now, and I knew it, knew that she knew it even before she spoke again.

“And what of the next? No. She is writ large in your soul; thee cannot escape such connection, such passion. Perhaps, it was madness to try.” She urged me to the place where T’Lys, cloaked in flames and truth, waited, Huntress-still.

The Master spoke aloud now, her words for the attendants, but all was gibberish. She eased away from my mind, gently, but firmly, leaving the heat of desire to scorch only me, alone…

The Kolinahru turned, and left me. There was neither unkindness nor kindness in it; I had failed, and this was no longer my place. It remained unsaid, but I knew – I would not be welcomed here again.

I dropped the symbol of the newly accepted Kolinahru adept, and rose from my knees. I began to walk, to the only place that I still knew would accept me – because there was no one there to refuse me. It was a two day’s walk…perhaps, time to find myself amongst the flood of feelings, but, certainly, a refuge where I could hide myself.

I felt it. I knew that this was only the harbinger. Emotion was a tightly knotted tangle within me, a heaviness, but I could feel it loosening, swelling toward eruption, and I no longer thought I had any control over it.

There we have it – a man on the verge of crisis. Will he find a direction, or connection? Will he survive his explosive emotions? What will he choose?

For December, pick the WIP, and POV character! If you have a favorite, don’t be shy! Someone decides, and it could be you! This WIP is the default.

This seems to catch the mood of Spock’s conflict….

Want more WIPpets? Click the cute little blue froggy to read and/or join in yourself!



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