My GOD have the past two days been difficult for writing! I got a decent amount done (978 today, 959 yesterday), but DAMN it's been like pulling teeth! Which, speaking of, is gonna happen to one of my coworkers tomorrow...which means no teleworking for me. Le sigh.
Anyway, I think that my hormones have a lot to do with it: it's almost that time of the month. You know...
The crimson tide. The red menace. Red rover, red rover, send Aunt Flow on over.
Ugh. Anyway, not there yet (THANK GOD) but it's nearly that time, and I've been feeling fairly wonky. Makes me easily-distractable...though the lack of caffeine certainly doesn't help. MUST make sure I buy some coffee tomorrow...
Anyway, another issue is that I'm struggling to define exactly how the next few chapters should go...I know where I am now and where I need to end up, but my map of the intervening land is very sketchy. Where's Navi when I need her?
Also, this was another slow transition part. By the time I got through it I actually really enjoyed it--especially the end!--but actually putting it down on paper was a bit...painful. But, like I said, I'm very happy with the end of the chapter in particular...so I figured I'd share it:
***
Mer sat up, rubbing her eyes, then turned to shake Bryn as the car began to slow. He grinned sleepily, pushing Mer away and rolling over. “Get up, you lump!”
Mer shook Bryn again, and he curled into a ball, ignoring her. The car began to slow, and Mer unbuckled, slithering into the back seat. She sat on the rest between the two front seats, and tapped Bryn very gently.
“Bryn, Bard says that we’re here…wherever here is. Come on, it’s time to get up.”
Bryn remained curled, a quill-less hedgehog.
“Bryn, we’ve got to go,” Mer cajoled.
Bryn remained unmoved, though he began to shake. Mer thought for one horrible second that he was crying; then she realized that he was shaking with suppressed laughter. This gave Mer an idea. Grinning evilly, she leaned over Bryn’s convulsing back.
“Bryn, this is your final warning,” she murmured, moving into position. “I’ll give you ‘till the count of three.
One…
Two…
THREE!”
On ‘three’ Mer pounced, shoving her hands beneath Bryn’s arms, tickling for all she was worth. He yelped, uncurling instinctively. Mer was merciless: she knocked his arms aside, going for the soft underbelly. Bryn pushed away, laughing, trying to get out of range.
“No—haha, stop, Mer! Stop! I hate being tickled! Ah, stop, stop! Let me go!”
“Let her go! This isn’t regulation! This isn’t fucking regulation!”
Mer released Bryn with a gasp, the memory hitting her like a tsunami, crashing over her, pulling her down.
“Mer?”
Mer closed her eyes, hugging herself, digging her nails into the flesh of her upper arms. She pushed it down, pushed it all down: the nausea, the fear, the too-recent memory of hands against her skin.
A gentle touch brushed her shoulder. Mer, shadows clearing from her eyes, looked up. Bryn was gazing at her, concern etching across his face.
“Mer, are you ok?”
Mer nodded. “I’m…I’m fine. Just needed to catch my breath.”
Bryn cupped a hand around Mer’s face, one finger resting on her temple as though positioned to siphon out the evil memory.
“Come on,” he said. “Bard’s already halfway across the field, and our next ride is waiting. We’d better get going now that you’re finally awake.”
Bryn winked, reaching across Mer to open her door. She stepped out of the car, Bryn sliding out behind her, bumping into her as she stopped, accosted by what she saw.
Shining and majestic, glittering like Polaris against the dark of the field, was a golden plane.
***
Okay, okay, I'll be honest: I'm not really excited about the writing, or the characterization, or any of that. I'm excited about that final image...and that I will finally be introducing Pilot!!!
Anyway, time to jet...pun intended. I've got to close up shop, run to feed Draco, and then put enough power steering fluid in my car to (hopefully) get me all the way down to Woodbridge and back. Banzai!
Working Title: Bryn & Mer: Nosce Te Ipsum
Word Count: 64,419
Writing Mode: Red at night, sailors' delight. Red in morning, sailors take warning. Code red! Eric the Red! What do you call a PMSing Literature major? Well-red.*
*I made this joke up. Steal it, and I will bleed on you.
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