WIP Whenever/Tidbit Thursday
WHEW it's been a while since I WIPped! Thank you so much for the tags, @archduchessgortash @cinder-rellish181 @dramatiquechipmunk @emmy-and-the-tieflings @lucretiouswept @litsenn @chaushaus @gortashsrighthand @gloura @perpetualmaladaptivedaydream @lilhumanoid!
Uno reverse tags to all of you, plus extra tags for @optimisticgrey, @spillingteanotpermitted, @endermal @elceewunjo @theya-art @bladesingerlily @thepalelawyer @burnt-by-marigolds @echoechowhiskey @carnivaley @cursed-nyxan @arlynx
I have been writing quite fervently, just haven't had time to pick a snip to share. Chapter 9 of Modiste/Marquess is drafted and in editing; hoping to publish it either tomorrow or Monday. I'm proud of many parts of this chapter, but I'd like to share the Dalyria POV which I was not expecting to enjoy writing as much as I did. It's her meet-cu-ewwww-te (meet-cute, but they're pretending they hate each other) with Rolan 😆
Two snips from the same scene, with a CW: injury/blood. And a disclaimer that I, the author, know it is a debunked myth to cut into a snake/venomous predator bite and suck out the venom, but I maintain that this totes would've been accepted practice back then/in this world. Plus, it's deliciously dramatic lol
"How novel; more jungle plants," Rolan sneered.
That did it. With a roll of her eyes, Dalyria pushed ahead to walk shoulder to shoulder with the archmage of Ramazith's Tower, her chest puffed out to mimic his swagger.
"Clearly you found the study of regional flora beneath you or you would know that the previous area was showcasing the beauty of temperate rainforests while this one is a near-perfect microcosm of tropical rainforests. You would never find mountain hemlock in a tropical area just as temperate rainforests don't stay hot enough for passion flowers or birds of paradise to thrive. You pompous arse!"
Dalyria knew the moment the last two words flew from her mouth that she had gone too far, but she was too fired up to walk them back now. Instead she snapped her head in Rolan's direction, challenging him to dispute her. Aided by the supercilious smirk snaking across his smug face, his dark sclera made the radiant gold of his irises look all the more mocking.
"I could conjure more impressive flora with my eyes closed using the weave, Miss Dalyria."
A flushed rage pooled in her core at the sultry way he said her name. Yes, it was definitely rage. For what else could it be?
"And yet they would be useless for naught beyond gawking at with heart-shaped eyes. Have you any idea how many precious medicines can be found from rainforest flora? Of course not. For what use is mundane healing when you can wave your hands and chant a few words to bend fire to your whims and destroy whatever you please?"
"You tell 'im, Dalyria!" Lia whooped, punching Rolan in the shoulder hard enough that he swayed into Dalyria. "Rolie, lighten up, would you? If you are so keen to show off your prowess you should have thought of hosting an event at the tower. But this is Halsin's night. Pipe down and enjoy."
How dare the braggart be so warm against her?! She wanted him to brush against her again; perhaps if she set her will firmly enough she could steal his warmth for herself and leave him shivering. That would give him what for.
"Shh! The venom already spreads. Lord Ramazith, I will cut the wound bigger, and then I must suck the venom from your arm until Halsin arrives."
Her words spurred a rallying of constitution in the archmage for he sat up, sputtering. "You are mad, woman! Already I feel much improved with those needles free from my arm."
"You are a fool to think you know better than I about medicine. Refuse my treatment at your own risk."
Another shudder racked Rolan's frame and his pupils dilated. His vision would begin to blur around this time. When he spoke again his tone was devoid of its usual commanding confidence. "Miss Dalyria, it would be improper. What would the Ton—it is against sensibilities!"
"DAMN THE SENSIBILITIES, ROLAN!"
Everyone fell silent. Time stretched, each moment of hesitation further jeopardizing Rolan's safety. Just when Dalyria was about to give up and storm off with the shame of failure hot in her eyes, he nodded.
Although she had never performed this procedure before, she read about it enough that her hands were steady as the knife sliced into Rolan's wound. She did not balk at the bubbling of blood or the pained grunts of her patient.
Nor did she notice the spectators circling around the scene as her mouth closed over the wound and began to draw out the venom.
The only consideration she spared for anything beyond patient and treatment was in where she spat the blood. Lia quickly made room for Dalyria to discard it away from both their gowns.
It wasn't until she had drawn several mouthfuls of Rolan's tainted essence that Dalyria's awareness expanded just enough to catch the mixed commentary.
"Savage."
"Hero."
"What strange customs they must have in Mirabar."
"Thank the gods Dalyria knew what to do."
"Disgusting."
"Fascinating."
"Shameful."
"Improper."
Each insult was a barbed hook clawing its way into her back, threatening to drag her out of her focused state. Tears began to well in her eyes. She was trying to save him! As if these cowards had what it took. She kept working.
"Sister, Halsin approaches!" Petras called out.
With a guttural groan, Dalyria expelled the final mouthful of blood and scurried backwards on her hands. It was then that she truly noticed everyone noticing her. Following their gazes down, Dalyria saw that the front of her dress was a waterfall of blood, her chest glistening crimson. Her chin and throat, too, were wet and sticky. Had she been alone with Rolan that Wispweed gossipmonger would have fabricated some story of Dalyria being a vampire vixen preying on the Ton's marriageable men.
