Sometimes things work out. I hit the end of my scene and my inspiration this evening, did a word count check, and found that I was exactly, to the word, at the point I had hoped to reach. I’m actually a full day’s worth of words ahead on the goal, which is what I need because I’ll be out of town for work tomorrow–which means I’ll be lucky to write anything.
I’ve been able to run ahead of the goal most days so far–yesterday was less because I was distracted by my civic duty, and both voting and election coverage cut into my writing time. I still got about a thousand words down, though, and managed to be about on target today.
I expected today to be a slog. I just wasn’t feeling it. But I sat down and wrote anyway, and the scene came out…pretty good. And Michael and Maggie had a bit of a moment that I certainly didn’t plan, so it was nice of them to be on top of these things. 🙂
I also had a rather entertaining time looking up poisonous plants. Don’t ever eat foxgloves.
Here’s an excerpt from a day or two ago. In a previous scene Maggie found a letter left behind by the deceased Princess Rebecca, which among other things advised watching the Grey Ladies, the nasty king’s mysterious attendants…
The midday meal gave Maggie her first opportunity to watch the Grey Ladies. She wished Rebecca had said what to watch them for. “All is not as it seems” was so vague as to be practically useless, really. Obviously something was strange; four women swathed in shreds of gray veils could hardly be called normal by any standard.
And then there was the way they ate. Or didn’t eat. Or whatever it was they were doing. She was watching them as closely as she could without being obvious, and she could not work it out. They had plates in front of them, with food—not a lot, but some. They even picked it up at times. But none went visibly into their mouths, and yet it disappeared from the plates. Maybe something was getting underneath all those shreds of veil, but she doubted it.
The Grey Ladies were swathed head to foot in clinging, fluttering wisps of thin gray cloth. Though any stray bit seemed to be nearly transparent, taken altogether they were impenetrable. Of the Ladies themselves (assuming the cloths weren’t actually part of them, though anything seemed possible), all she could see was an occasional flash of white fingertips, and a very narrow band of white skin around eyes of pale gray.
The Grey Ladies didn’t speak for the entire meal. Maggie thought back, and couldn’t recall them speaking at any previous meals either. But she did remember one had spoken to her the first day, the one who had taken her to her rooms after—after the courtyard. Odd. Did it signify anything that they weren’t speaking now? Was one of them different than the rest? None of them looked different from any of the others, and she had no idea which of the four had been the one to speak that first day.
Maybe they didn’t speak around King Maurus. He’d probably feel that was just what he wanted in a woman, no annoying chatter. Maggie tried to get some idea of their relationship to the king, but she had little enough to go on. They sat two on either side of him, and he occasionally caressed one or another, in a slightly absent way. They didn’t drape themselves over him, but they didn’t shy away either.
It was hard to judge the feelings of people whose features she couldn’t see at all, but Maggie finally had to decide that they simply weren’t tense. Of course, their every movement was languid and flowing so perhaps she was misjudging, but there was still nothing about them to suggest that they were afraid of King Maurus.
That in itself might be considered strange, though it probably wasn’t what Rebecca had meant.
King Maurus progressed out at the end of the meal, flanked by guards and trailed after by the Grey Ladies. Maggie had already seen that the guards moved with unnatural swiftness, here one moment, there the next. The Grey Ladies glided. They weren’t obviously fast, but their every movement flowed into the next, with a grace that was unnatural. Their wrappings didn’t hide perfect figures.
If they hadn’t been so damned creepy, there were aspects of the Grey Ladies she might have envied.