Saturday, 20th December.
It’s around 9:30 PM. I’m sitting there, staring calmly at the TV. The characters from Dragon Age: Inquisition are running across the screen and I’m focusing on nothing more important than which mission to do next. Hell, after a day of battling the entire city for the last of my daughter’s gifts and picking her up from a friend’s Christmas party, I’m practically half asleep. I may even have dozed off at some point, I’m not certain.
In strides my muse, she came back from her little vacation some time ago and, although I kept her happy pottering with various fan-fictions, she’s about had it with my complete inattention to the stories floating around my computer.
Her response to this offence? Dangle a little morsel before me like some damn carrot. A scene for the story I’m still figuring out the bloody world-building for (she doesn’t like to think small, I’ll give her that).
There’s flaming apples involved (literally, the person responsible is a magic-wielder) and one piece that had me turning off the game to go write. Actually write, like pencil applied to paper, which is always a damn mess and a pain to figure out later.
“Right in my father’s house. Can you imagine? The utter nerve of him.” Giving a disgusted snort that was at odds with the elegance of her attire, she unclipped her cape and tossed the heavily embroided fabric over a chair in her usual careless fashion.The chair tipped back and fell with a dreadful clatter.Undeterred, Adyia marched across the room, her skirts swishing hypnotically with each step. The shimmering reminded him of the exotic birds in the temple gardens; bright and slightly on the tasteless side. She turned her back to him. “Unlace me.”
Yup. That’s it. Even better: I’ve only a vague idea what she’s mad about.