“The Child of Her Soul”: Foul Deeds Will Rise for #WeWriWa #8Sunday

Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors’ Eight Sentence Sunday, the weekly hop for everyone who loves to write! Sign up below with your name, blog and email and share an 8 to 10 sentence snippet of your writing on Sunday. Your post needs to be live between 12:00 noon on Saturday and 9:00 AM on Sunday. Visit other participants on the list and read, critique, and comment on their #8sunday posts.

It’s a second chance to share a small snippet of my current writing. Most weeks, I tie them back to my current WIPpet Wednesday post, so reading both can give a deeper peek…

This nine-sentence snippet follows immediately after last week’s WIPpet, Preying Upon Her. It’s from Foul Deeds Will Rise, Book #2 in my Trueborn Weft Series.

Shentaa is a new mother, apart from her nursling, Osiru, for the first time since his birth. She’s not sure exactly what to do with herself, and so she Runs, somewhat aimlessly, considering the powerful pull of her child, and realizing that she will never again be truly alone.

The Child of Her Soul

This day, though, was her own. Canivaar had pack matters to tend to; he’d offered to run with her, but she had wanted to begin with strength, and taking him from his work so that she would not be alone was not the action of a strong huntress.

And so Shentaa ran, until she became tired, and then she found a likely denning place under an overhanging ledge of rock, and curled herself into sleep, nose neath tail.

She was floating, near as soon as she slept, running above the clouds, but, somehow, the sodden air was filled with the scents of the world neath her…the scents of growing things and wild life lived in balance

But she wasn’t meant to be running in the Huntlands, or even above them. Nay, her hunt lay along a different trail, and she ran on, out of Canivaarii places, into Untribed holdings, intent on her prey – the Kai’s Keep, and the Kai, who had been as her child long before Osiru the Hidden had suckled from her breast, filled her womb…

She must see Kaivaara, and know that she was well.

Why she must, she knew not; questioned not. It was as it was, and she must, and the knowing it was enough to spur her on, to Run her swiftest –

She Ran, because Vaara, the child of her soul, had placed bonds upon her, and needed her.

Who is Kaivaaraa, and does she truly need Shentaa?

Is the dream a reflection of reality?

What does it mean, or dies it mean anything?

Where will it carry Shentaa?

Next week might bring the answers – or only more questions…

Want more #8Sunday? 

 

Preying Upon Her: Foul Deeds Will Rise on WIPpet Wednesday

Welcome to WIPpet Wednesday, a weekly blog hop which encourages writers to move WIPs (works-in-progress) to publication by posting excerpts related to the date. It’s hosted by the lovely K.L. Schwengel, maven of bad boys, stock dogs, and flying monkeys! She‘s our fearless shepherd…or something like that, anyway…

This week, I’m sharing more from Foul Deeds Will Rise, and hoping my increasingly capricious power adapter will hold out until the replacements get here later in the week…so, in order to conserve what may be very limited battery power, I’m keeping this short and perhaps sweet.

Shentaa has recently given birth, and this is the first time she’s been separated from her infant son, Osiru…

WIPpet Non- Math:

  • Today isn’t August 19, 2015but this is the snippet I would have shared then, if I hadn’t shared A Pet Name?

  • So I’m being a rebel this week – or I’m time-traveling. You get to decide. =)

Almost 14 years ago, I was the new mother (of a ten pounds plus giant baby boy!)….

Preying Upon Her

Shentaa was alone, Running.

There had seldom in her life been a time when she was alone, and she hadn’t known, until a fiveday past, how much she enjoyed and was affrighted by it, together.

Mayhap it was that, though she was alone, she was not, in the same breath, nor would she ever be, now.

Once, she had thought her ties with the child called Vaara were the strongest bonds she would ever know, and, before the child, she’d thought it either her Pack, or her family and friends in the Seers’ Keep.

Then had come Solemating, and then, borne of that, Osiru…

It was the deepest thing of all, she thought now, to harbor a child within her own body, to grow it from her Solemate’s seed and her own egg, his blood, her Line….

They had created a new life, and now, she would ever be bound by it. By her son.

But, as much as she could be alone, in this breath, she was. Osiru was with his Huntmother; he was young for the first parting, but Trueborn. What had been denied to Vaara by their imprisonment, she was most determined would not be denied their child, even if he yet had no Tribed name. He would take his Huntmother’s milk as well as his mother’s, sleep in her embrace, be shown by her his first tiny sniffs and tastes of the Wolvenkeep’s life.

Truth, though – he was still with her, preying upon her mind and her heart…

How was it that a being so small in size could be so stealthy a Hunter, when all he had Hunted till now was her milk and his own baby rousal?

Shentaa knew not; knew only that it was so.

He Hunted her, and he would take her. She was his mother, and that made her his own.

But she would yet Run. He would be with Larys until dawning; that’s what they’d agreed upon, and she wouldn’t be the one to undo this most important matter, simply so that she could lay with him, suckle him, and breathe him in – truth, though, that is all she would Hunt, on the morrow.

Will all go well for Osiru’s first day with his Huntmother?

Will Shentaa be able to stay away?

What will she do with her time?

I’ll be posting the next ten lines from this scene for #8sunday,  if you’d like to find out what’s next.

Looking for more WIPpet Snippets, with chattier writers whose power adapters are A-OK? You can find those, or add your own date-related excerpt, by following the little blue froggy from WIPpet to WIPpet to WIPpet!

“You May Carry Me”: The IDIC Romance for #WeWriWa #8Sunday

Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors’ Eight Sentence Sunday!

It’s the weekly hop for everyone who loves to write! Sign up below with your name, blog and email and share an 8 to 10 sentence snippet of your writing on Sunday. Your post needs to be live between 12:00 noon on Saturday and 9:00 AM on Sunday. Visit other participants on the list and read, critique, and comment on their #8sunday posts.

It’s a second chance to share a small snippet of my current writing. Most weeks, I tie them back to my WIPpet Wednesday  post, so reading both can give a deeper peek…

This ten-sentence snippet follows immediately after last week’s WIPpet,  A Pet Name? (add link)

T’Pol has reported for duty, in the aftermath of some undisclosed personal trauma she shares with Trip, but she’s clearly not up to par, and, when the Captain orders her to eat, she is unable to hold down even a tiny sip of plomeek broth. Trip’s trying to take care of her and get her to Sickbay – but will Captain Archer, dealing with a jealousy he doesn’t want to notice, allow that?

Standard-Issue Disclaimer:

I don’t own Trip, T’Pol, or anything Star Trek. I also don’t want to make any money from them; I play with them for the sheer fun of it, and, well, because they keep putting these stories in my head…

How could I not write their stories?! I mean, just look at them – they’re adorable, and fascinating, and there’s all that lovely friction….

“You May Carry Me”

“All right. You’re both relieved of duty for the morning. Trip, get her to Phlox, and make sure she stays there until he’s got some answers.” Jon paused, expecting T’Pol to protest that she was fine and didn’t need help.

But all she did was lean into Trip. Her legs didn’t seem very steady at all, and Jon was kicking himself mentally- how could he have missed such a marked deterioration?

“It’ll take us all day to get down there, at this pace,” Trip said, gently but firmly. “Maybe we should call for a stretcher, if you won’t just let me carry you.”

“You may carry me.” T’Pol wrapped an arm around Trip’s neck as he gathered her up, and rested her head meekly on his chest, her eyes more closed than open.

Will T’Pol be all right?

Will Phlox be able to help her?

Will they make it to Sickbay without soiling Trip’s boots?

Will the Captain admit his jealousy, even to himself?

On a personal note, today is my eighteenth wedding anniversary, which is why I’m sharing from The IDIC Romance, rather than Foul Deeds Will Rise, which is not particularly romantic. FDWR will be back for next week’s WIPpet Wednesday and #8sunday posts, though, so, if you came here for Niaan and company, you’ve only got a few days left to wait.

As for Trip and T’Pol, TIR will make future appearances (thus far, there’s nearly 200K words in this project, so I’ve got LOTS to share!). I don’t know just when, right now, but they’ll be back…but for now, I’m off to make sure this is a welcoming home for my Accomplice to come home to.

Want more #8Sunday? The icon is your portal!

Follow the icon to more wonderful #Wewriwa snippets!

 

August 23, 1997. Promises Made…and honored, ever since.

A Pet Name? The IDIC Romance on WIPpet Wednesday

Welcome to WIPpet Wednesday, a weekly blog hop which encourages writers to move WIPs (works-in-progress) to publication by posting excerpts related to the date. It’s hosted by the lovely K.L. Schwengel, maven of bad boys, stock dogs, and flying monkeys! She‘s our fearless shepherd…or something like that, anyway…

OK, here’s the thing... I planned on sharing more from Foul Deeds Will Rise but then, I realized that this is my anniversary week...and, while FDWR is a perfectly fine story, it’s…well, most of it isn’t very romantic.

Fortunately, I have another story – one with “romance” right in the title….and it has a Vulcan! =D

So, guess what? (C’mon, you don’t really need to guess at what’s coming, do you?!)

Two Wednesdays back, Captain Archer ordered T’Pol to eat her plomeek broth like a good First Officer…. And then, for #8sunday, Trip uttered these momentous words: “You Missed My Boots.”

So, T’Pol’s not exactly at her best, just now. Thankfully, she’s got a protector who’s willing to take care of her – if the Captain will allow it, that is…

…Touching and Touched…Our hands, July 4, 2010, in the car.

Standard-Issue Disclaimer:

I don’t own Trip, T’Pol, or anything Star Trek. I also don’t want to make any money from them; I play with them for the sheer fun of it, and, well, because they keep putting these stories in my head…

WIPpet Math:

Today is August 19, 2015.

I‘ve got 19 sentences todayone for each year of marriage to my Accomplice, and one for luck. Or, alternatively, one for each day of the date, but that’s less fun, no?

A Pet Name?

“I’m quite capable of standing, t’hy’la.” T’Pol unfolded, and Trip helped her back onto her feet with a shrug.

“Suit yourself.” Whatever that Vulcan word she’d called him was, he didn’t seem to mind.

Was it a pet name? From T’Pol?

It was getting harder and harder not to notice these little things – until T’Pol helped him by jacknifing,  and letting go all over again.

Trip was right there, like he’d expected it, but this time he only supported her as she leaned against him. “Stubborn little pepperpot.” He stroked sweat-soaked bangs off her forehead, and Jon turned his head when Trip leaned in to brush his lips against the newly revealed skin, as though the engineer had forgotten anyone else was there. “No fever. That’s good – but I’m taking you to Sickbay, and I don’t care how much you argue about it. You need the doc, pepperpot.”

“Stand down, Captain Tucker.” Jon was rewarded by a blush the fair-skinned engineer couldn’t hide.

T’Pol retched and brought up another thin stream of nothing that looked like food, and Jon realized that, much as he hated it, Trip was right. T’Pol needed medical attention – maybe she’d needed it for days. And Trip seemed to be able to support her in ways Jon was pretty sure she wouldn’t accept from anyone else – certainly not from him.

“Uhh – sorry, sir – but – ah, hell, T’Pol – damned volcanoes on the Fire Plains haven’t got a thing on you -”

What’s making T’Pol sick?

What did she call Trip?

What does it mean?

Will Jon let Trip take her to Sickbay?

Will T’Pol?

Is there anything left in her to bring up?

I’ll be posting the next ten lines from this scene for #8sunday, if you’d like to find out what’s next.

Okay, I’ll grant you that this isn’t the sexiest of romance scenes…but if I’ve learned anything in nearly eighteen years of marriage (and I’ve learned a great deal), it’s that the greatest expressions of love, the ones that can sustain a relationship, are often the ones that come in the less than wonderful times.

And, as we probably all know by now, Trip Tucker is a gentleman. And gentlemen take care of damsels in distress, even when the damsels have pointed ears and overly sensitive digestive tracts prone to spontaneous eruptions that still might douse their boots…

Could it be….true love?

Looking for more WIPpet Snippets where no one’s in danger of getting icky stuff on their boots? You can find those, or add your own date-related excerpt, by following the little blue froggy from WIPpet to WIPpet to WIPpet!

Did He Know? Foul Deeds Will Rise for #WeWriWa #8Sunday

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Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors’ Eight Sentence Sunday, the weekly hop for everyone who loves to write! Sign up below with your name, blog and email and share an 8 to 10 sentence snippet of your writing on Sunday. Your post needs to be live between 12:00 noon on Saturday and 9:00 AM on Sunday. Visit other participants on the list and read, critique, and comment on their #8sunday posts.

It’s a second chance to share a small snippet of my current writing. Most weeks, I tie them back to my WIPpet Wednesday post, so reading both can give a deeper peek…

This eight-sentence snippet follows immediately after last week’s WIPpet Wednesday post, A Whisper of Truth, from Foul Deeds Will Rise, the second volume of my Trueborn Weft series.

Niaan is fleeing through the trees, knowing she’s not safe from the risk a fall, and afraid to stop and seek shelter, because she knows she’s being pursued…

Did He Know?

Yes. Hunters. To punish her for the fangs she’d sunk into Mother’s throat –

“Nonono!” She whisper-shouted into the dark – when? When had it grown dark, with Kaivelt’s firestars painting her skies, his Everdeep?

Had he seen her, when she had lain with another? Did he know what she had done?

What did Niaan do?

Will the Hunters find her?

Does Kaivelt know what she did?

What’s this about fangs and her mother’s throat?

Are her perceptions to be trusted?

There will be more next week – note, I don’t make any promises about answering any of these questions, only to come back with more of the story. I know – writers can be mean, but we have our reasons!

If you need a recap of what I’ve shared so far, here it is:

Also, I know I left The IDIC Romance with T’Pol’s sick not mucking up Trip’s boots. The thing is, T’Pol’s a little indisposed right now, and indisposed Vulcans deserve privacy. So I’m going to give her some time to see if she can get her digestive tract back under her own control…

Don’t worry (worry isn’t logical) – she never stays away for too long….but, until then, I offer  an amusing intermission that has nothing at all to do with today’s eight. Maybe don’t watch if a bit of naughtiness isn’t your thing, or the circumstances would make tongue-in-cheek raciness inappropriate…I’ll do the closing duties, to give you time to decide.

Want more #8Sunday? 

Here’s your portal!

And now, as promised…a little Vulcan spiciness,

with a side of sauciness, and a dash of Hoshi!

 

“Not a Damned Thing”: The IDIC Romance Freewriting Challenge

I was tagged for this nifty freewriting challenge by Kim Magennis.  I wrote my piece right away, but, as the kids and I were headed out on a camping trip hours later, and I hadn’t slept nearly enough, I set it aside – and then promptly forgot..

Now that I’ve settled back in, here it is, at last.

Kim’s topic was Unrequited Love, which, naturally, made me think of a certain Vulcan, and a certain often frustrated human…and so, I hereby present…

Disclaimer:

I don’t own these characters, or their franchise, and I’m not making any money from them.

Not a Damned Thing”

He stared at her, and wondered if she even remembered. Okay, he was staring at her backside, just the way he had when Henri took her to her table in Fusion – Trip wished he couldn’t remember exactly how long ago that was. Not because he didn’t want to remember that magical night when Miss Pointed Ears Under That Cowl stalked into his life, looking like a cross between a ninja, a dancer, and a Florida panther, but because it had put him through hell and back ever since, fantasizing about her.

None of those fantasies involved her standing there like she had a whole damned log up her ass, though, stiff and pretending like hell that she’d never seen him before, never stared into his eyes while she swayed to soft jazz, never opened the shutters he thought all Vulcans kept over their souls – their oh-so-logical souls – and damned near dragged him into her.

She stood there like he meant not a damned thing to her, like she’ d gone back into the Consulate and never given him even a second thought.

Well, two could play that game, couldn’t they?

Of course, it would be easier if she wasn’t wearing that damned perfume of hers, the one that seemed to shift and pulse through the Cap’n’s Ready Room, and through his body, straight to –

Down, boy!

He was so tempted to just stand up, stride the one and a half steps to her, spin her around, and tell her he wasn’t going to let her go until she told him what the hell she’d been up to that night, and why she was pretending that she hadn’t ever seen him before now.

But, if he did, Jon was gonna know there was something between them – or had been something, anyway – he’d sure as hell talked about the woman in the club that night, even dragged Jon back there, hoping to see her, wondering if his best friend the fancy starship Cap’n would pick up on the fact that the woman of his dreams wasn’t even human.

346words/10 minutes.

Time to fess up. Typing overtired and in the dark yielded scary results! Here’s the original:

He stared at her, and wondered if she even remembered. Okay, he was staring at her backside, just the way he had bwhen Henri took her to her table in fusion – Trip wished he couldn’t remember exactly how long ago that was. Not because he didnt’ want to remember that magical night when Mss Pointed Ears Under that Cowl stalked into his life, looking like a cross bwtween a ninja, a dancer, and a Florida panther, but because it had put him through hell and back ever since, fantasizing about her.

Nonw of those fantasies involved her standing tere like she had a whole damned log up her ass, though, stiff and pretending lke hell that she’d never seen him befoe, never stared into his eyes while she swayed to soft azz, never opened the shuttters he thought all Vulcans kept ober their souls – their oh-so-logical souls – and damned near dragged him into her.

She stood there like her meant not a damned thing to her, like she’ d gone back into the Consulate and never given him even a second thought.

Well, two could play that ganme, couldn’t they?

Of course, it would be easier, if she wasn’t wearing that damned perfume of hers, the one that seemed to shift and pulse throught the Cap’n’s Ready Room, and through his body, straight to –

Down boy!

He was so tempted to just stand up, stride the one and ahalf steps to her, spin her awrond, and tell her he wasn’t going to let her go until she told him what they hell she’d been up to that night, and why she was pretending that she hadn’t ever seen him before now.

But, if he did, Jon was gonna know there was something between them – or had been something, anyway – he’d sure as hell talked about the woman in the clud that night, even dragged Jon back there, hoping to see her, wondering if his best frined the fancy starship Cap’n would pik up on the fact that the woman of his dreams wasn’t evven humam.

Tag, You’re It! (no pressure, if you’re not into it!)

Rules (Paraphrased):

  1. Open a document in your word processor.
  2. Set a timer for 5 or 10 minutes – whichever challenge you prefer.
  3. Your topic is at the end of this post – DON’T SCROLL DOWN UNTIL YOU ARE READY TO BEGIN.
  4. Once you began writing don’t stop; even to edit.
  5. Leave spelling/grammar errors as-is (unless this makes you way too twitchy; then maybe share corrected and original versions, like I did).
  6. You may ignore punctuation and capitals, though it’s easier for others to read if you don’t!
  7. At the end of your post, add your word count/ time spent.
  8. Copy/paste the entire passage to your blog post, along with these rules.
  9. Tag bloggers who migh enjoy the game..
  10. Include a new topic for others to play with!

Ready, Set…

Your Topic Is….below this image!

Annalise as Nightmare Fairy.

Fantasy!

(topic provided by my 11 year old daughter, Annalise).

“The Seer’s Way”: Foul Deeds Will Rise for SoCS

This post is part of Linda G.Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday meme -an unedited stream of consciousness piece that ties into the weekly prompt: Use a word ending in ay as the subject/theme. 

I’ve more or less recovered from camping, and the scattered energy that followed those days away. I’m back to a more typical level and type of productivity, if still a bit subdued and distracted. What does that mean?

Well, for one thing, that, in addition to posting, this week I also intend to visit some of you, and share some of my favorite posts on my Facebook Writer Page – kind of my way of apologizing for having more or less disappeared, these last few weeks…

It also means that I’ve gotten back to my fantasy WIP, Foul Deeds Will Rise, (Trueborn Weft #2), with an aim to finish the rough draft by the end of the month so that I can move on to Other Things. So, this week I used the prompt to write another few hundred words of the story.

We join Shentaa in dire circumstances, considering how she got into this mess…and almost certain sure that there’s no way out…

Photo and Zentangle art by Shan Jeniah Burton.

The Seer’s Way

It was the Seer’s Way.

Shentaa had known it, with her mother’s milk – nay, long before that. Truth, she had taken the knowing of it with her mother’s blood, and her breath, even before she first filled her own lungs to cry out lustily into the air of the Seer’s Keep.

It was the Seer’s Way.

‘Interfere not with what is dreamed, when what is dreamed is truth. It matters not what cost you may pay; none could overmatch that of attempting to undo that which must be.’

There were many ways of phrasing it. It was the subject of song, of dance, of writing and art, among her family, and the others she knew of who carried Seers’ Lines.

There was no undoing such a dream. It would come to be; it was, as the Tacivaarii were so fond of saying, as sima garo provided. There could be no unweaving the warp and weft of it, and any Hunt that made such a thing its prey was like as not to only bind the threads of it more tightly about the shuttle.

And yet, she had set aside the Seer’s Way, without a thought, to come to the child she had raised, who was a child no more. She had told herself that the dream meant something other than it had – something other than simply a clue; something she was to learn more of, mayhap, but not to weave herself into.

She was well woven into it now. It might be that she would be woven into it, into this blue stone, for all of time, now.

Had any ever scaped the Jeweled Walk?

None of her kin, nor the false Kai’s, of a certain. Here they were, all embedded with her – she’d felt herself whooshing past them – all the Seer-women who had held to the Way, and still ended here, where they had known they must.

Only she had tried to betray that knowing, to do something to undo what she had seen in the true dreaming.

She had broken the Seer’s Way, and, though she was was not a Seer, now she would pay.

Now, and mayhap forever….

How exactly did Shentaa betray the Seer’s Way?

What happened to her?

Will she be able to escape?

Did she stop the true dream from being fulfilled?

Is that possible?

Have you tried stream-of consciousness writing? Come join in – there’s just a few simple rules. Check out the brand-new #SoCS hashtag, or Get more SoCS right here! 

It’s more than slightly possible that this song, and the video, which were popular in my teen years, inspired this passage, and the rest of the scene, too…