It’s been a rough last couple of days – I’ve been more or less out of commission. Fortunately, I’m well on the mend today – but also very busy with catch-up – I’ve got unanswered comments from last week, plotting and revising, and, oh, the hometending that didn’t happen these last days…
That being said, I did attain my 60 hour goal for the month, and move a little beyond it!
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 the Bard’s words on the trail of her lost identity.
I’m still in the middle of the rewrite of Scene 8/60 (Nockatee’s Black Moment). Today’s offering will be rough and a little disheveled…but, trust me, it’s better than the rough draft of this scene, which delved deep into fanfic country, although this is intended to be original fantasy…
Nockatee is hiding in the heavens, up under the thatched roof of the Globe Theatre. She and Henry have just avoided danger and detection outside the theatre, and now there is a new threat inside – Kirana, Tisira’s twin. With her here, Tisira rises within Nockatee, threatening her very self…for reference, these events occur shortly before those in my previous WIPpet,Burning Desperation.
And now, on to the WIPpeting!
Today is March 26, 2014.
- Today’s math is a bit tricky…
- 26(for the date) -3 (for the month)=23; 23-7 (for the digits of the year, added)=17; 17+2 (for Tisira and Nockatee, sharing one body)=19
- Voila! 19 sentences!
The prologue went on, but I – I felt that first line echoing within me. Aye. This was as that. I must claim my own life, my own self. Tisira was near, and as fine a Huntress as I, mayhap better. She would take my life as her prey, if she were able, turn me again to her will, as though I had never been.
Nay, I would not allow it!
“I am Nockatee, and not your Tisira.” That was a certainty I could hold to, as solid as the ledge I crouched upon – a weapon against my twin; against that other piece of myself. My eyes scanned the crowd – it was a fine day, and all the town, it seemed, had come out to see the Kings’ Men. Too many hats, too many colors, too many faces…
I could feel her, with my mind, and, dimly, held cased like an ember within her – “Father!”
“Yes, sister. He is within me, and Mother, too – will you not remember, and return?”
Bait! Father made himself bait, to tempt me, to bring me to him, to keep me near him in his madness – but what of Henry? It was Tisira Father wanted; Tisira who was his companion. I, Nockatee, wife of Henry, knew him only thus – through dreams, and memories, and held within the mind of my – nay, Tisira’s – twin.
Only a foolish Huntress would walk into such a trap.
Will Tisira succeed in overtaking Nockatee? Will Father spring his trap? And what of Nockatee, and Henry? Will their love survive in spite of the escalating threats? Can Nockatee hang onto her self, even with this proof of her former life?
Stop by next week…I can’t promise answers to any of these questions, but I can promise new ones! =)
The play being performed when the Globe caught fire on 29 June 1613 was Henry VIII. A nifty detail – I married a man who looks remarkably like the randy old monarch…happily, our firstborn was a son, and I’m the faithful type…so my neck is safe.
Still, I can’t think of Henry without thinking, “Horrible Histories!”