Things are, as ever, going from bad to worse for our heroes (using the term loosely...) which apparently means that for the last two days I've sat down and accidentally written around 1,000 words a day on them.
Shame it's not 1,000 words on any of the projects I'm actually supposed to be working on! The weirdest thing is though, that I'm actually having fun. (Lirio's not, but if he was I wouldn't have so much to write about.)
Also, after ages of reading people say "well it's an acquired taste..." and "I had to force myself to drink it the first week or so..." I finally decided to try green tea.
After my first cup, it's been pretty much the only hot drink I have drunk. Turns out I actually really like it. So, finally, something healthy I've been successful with!
WiPpet Wednesday is a blog hop hosted by K. L. Schwengel to encourage people to work on and share their Works in Progress, but it's a blog hop with a twist: each snippet should in some way relate to the date, either through basic substitution or WiPpet maths. You can find out more, read other blogs and sign up yourself over here.
Today's maths is pretty basic: it's the 12th August so it's 12 + 8 for 20 lines from The Rose Queen and we're still on Corliss, just for this one last bit. (Although if you do fancy reading any more about him, I wrote an 850-word 18+ thing with him before his life in this story for the A-Z Challenge here. Fastest sex scene of the month!)
Medworth’s eyes narrowed. Everyone thought his crow’s feet were marks of a life spent laughing; Corliss suspected they had as much to do with the icy glare he seemed perfectly capable of pinning his Head of Security to the carpet with. Perhaps Medworth smiled with other crewmen, but Corliss was there under sufferance. “Unless you’re capable of making it up to the Project—to me—somehow?”
At last, a straw he could clutch at. It might do nothing to stop him being swept back to Caleca, but if he was lucky and absolutely refused to let go, it might just allow him to claw his way back into the Captain’s good graces. “I’ll do anything to serve the Orenda. You know that, sir.”
He didn’t need to hear the words to know what they’d be, but Medworth didn’t leave things to chance and intuition. “Retrieve the Rose Queen. Prove you’re the man you assured us you were when we took you on.”
Corliss nodded, snapping out a smart salute. “Yes, sir.” There was nothing else he could say. No words could make it better. It was action, because even death was better than the alternative. He hesitated, saluted again, then turned on his heel and stalked from the room, Medworth’s eyes burning a hole in his back.
In the hallway, his face collapsed into a scowl that could have been career-ending had Medworth seen it. His life had gone straight to Hell all right, and if he didn’t do something about it now, Hell would seem like an all-expenses-paid five-star resort on a garden planet in comparison to Medworth’s pointed threat.
Somehow—and he’d better come up with a way, fast, because he didn’t think Medworth was in a patient mood—he’d get the gardener back and make the thieving bastard who stole him pay for his loss of face.