ok go on then @fortunatetragedy I just cracked the start of chappy 8 yestyday
minitag 2 @the-golden-comet, @bardicbeetle, @autism-purgatory, @winterandwords + open tag to anyone who wants to play >:3
Rules: Post 7 (or 7-ish) lines from your WIP.
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The water is cold enough to turn my lips numb when I drink it. It bites on the way down; I have to warm it over the fire just to stomach it in the mornings. There’ll be snow soon. I need to find something better to cover my hands when I crawl. Cloth wraps soak up the damp from the ground and make me lose feeling in my fingers.
I’ve been ferrying as much firewood back to the cave as I can, carrying it on my back in a rucksack, like a tortoise. The work feels just as slow; twice, thrice as long as it used to take before I had to crawl. The less I have to go outside once winter truly sets in, the better. I’ve taken to passing water in the ditch where one of my rosemary plants used to be, close by but still outside. I can't imagine the stench that would build up if I succumbed to pissing in a bucket.
I'll nudge a no-presh tag towards @fortunatetragedy, @thatndginger, @the-golden-comet, @winterandwords + open tag to anyone who wants to play :D Blank questions to copy/paste are under the cut at the end of this post.
I'll interview Deerfoot from my current WIP, Cycle's End, which you can read here on AO3. Though I will have to change "movies" to "stories" because movies don't exist in their universe XD
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Are you named after anyone?
I don't have a name right now. When I was born, my mother chose a name for me that was beautiful. It didn't fit. At the end of my journey, I should choose a new name for myself. I still don't know if I will fashion it after my father or something else entirely.
When was the last time you cried?
There have been so many times that they blur together. Sometimes I don't notice the tears. I would like... mmh, meal times. I would like meal times not to make me cry anymore.
Do you have kids?
... No. I decided this long ago. After five years of bleeding, I went to the healer Laela and tended her home for one moon cycle. In return, she cut my womb out of me and cared for me while the healing crystals did their work. Then I went out on my own.
Do you use sarcasm a lot?
That's a vulgar way of speaking. Maybe I'd pick up some of it working on the docks. It's funny to think about.
What’s the first thing you notice about people?
You can make a good assessment of a person by the foot they choose to carry. They say Catpaws are the least trustworthy, but Micefeet are so sly that you often don't notice their foot at all... unless you know where to look.
What’s your eye colour?
My eyes are dark when I look in the water.
Scary stories or happy endings?
I...
[there is a long silence]
I would like a happy ending, please.
Any special talents?
I can trap and travel, cook and clean and light fires and make tools. I am hard working. I guess the talent of it is perseverance.
Where were you born?
I was born in a small town on the outskirts of the forest, three Lodestones away from any big city. The land was good for running orchards, and the forest has deer if you know where to find them.
Do you have any pets?
Our family kept an old cat to keep the mice away. He was missing an eye, but at least he was never missing a paw.
What sort of sports do you play?
Games are for children. I don't much like dice or knucklebones, either. Maybe my plan to work on the docks was a foolish fancy. I wish... hrm. I guess wishes are for children, too.
How tall are you?
Not as tall as I'd like, but it makes it easier to hide.
What was your favourite subject in school?
I didn't go to school. Of all the things my mother and father taught me, my most favourite one was how to process a deer. She was my first kill, and we spent days with her. Her hide makes my waterskin, my belt. I cooked and dried and ate her flesh. We rendered the marrow in her bones, sowed her innards in the earth under and apple tree. I could only whittle simple things like bone needles and fish hooks, but my father made an inlay in the handle of my hatchet. I have worn her hoof on a leather cord ever since.
Character voice tag “It was like that when I got here.”
thank 2 @winterandwords for tag :3
Rules: Write the given phrase as each of your characters would say it (it doesn't have to be verbatim, just the vibe)!
My phrase is "It was like that when I got here," which is indirectly perfect for the characters of Cycle's End.
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Deerfoot: With every muscle in my body wanting to sink below the ground, I must look up at him with no expression. The ropes still bound my wrists, only one strand pitifully frayed while the rest hold strong. "The air in here... it is too damp." I struggle to get the words out over the rush of the waterfall. "It weakens things."
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Gone: I look between him and the body on the floor, chest torn open in a way that reminds me horribly of redberry pie. The wide berth he's given the corpse is most suspicious, as if he's stepped away rather than never been close at all. His arms hang nonchalantly by his sides. It's all for naught; his black scales are too dark to see the blood on his snout, but I can see him lick the blood from his teeth.
Despite all this, he stares at me with not one flicker of shame in his amber eyes. "W̸̠̪͕͗̆o̶̩͍͐̈́ḽ̵̺̀͜f̶̭̾̃," he says.
===
minitag to @dyrewrites, @thatndginger, @viscerawrites, @autism-purgatory + open tag to anyone who wants to play :)
Your phrase is "You'll pay for that."
⚠️ Reblogs, replies etc. on my tag posts are always welcome, but if you're doing this tag yourself, please make your own post instead of using mine to start a reblog chain.
Problem: A signature of your work is Some Kind of Redhead but your horror novella doesn't have any redheaded characters.
Solution: ...😬
The bodies. I shrink back from the black mass, groping for the wall. I find it, my stomach turning as my fingers slide over not smooth rock but lumpy sinew. More bones set in place somehow. I lift the torch along the wall and follow the thick path of blood to a grotesque pile of meat wedged up against the wall. That's what it is, a pile of meat; most parts don’t hold their shape anymore. I think he pulled the bones out. Great gaping wounds where he tore into the flesh. But somehow, still not rotting. It could be a day or two old at most, but I recognise the rosy glint on what used to be a hairy forearm. Gone dragged him in weeks ago. I only remember because he was a redhead.
