"We're all fine here, how are you?"

[rthstewart]

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I had really thought that having completed the last chapter, chapter 9, of H&M, that chapter 10, Conclave, and what happens at Conclave would come easily.  It's a very, very old part of the story in my head and the outline.  But, hmm, it's not.  It's quite sluggish actually.  This is bad for several reasons.  It makes me peevish.  It delays (further) getting back to AW.  And, I've gone and signed up for femgenficathon and have promised myself that I won't sign up for the fabulous Narnia Fic Exchange until I finish this chapter, 8,600 words and counting.

RL has been very, very hard lately, so that's surely part of it.  I've got so much done and it's so close and 11 will be so easy.. and..  oh well.  Thanks for the patience.  In keeping with a favorite habit of mine, the chapter begins with a look back to how Pierce and Maeve became lovers (oh gawd, OCs.  I'm writing all OCs...  Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi) and so they are hung over and in bed and it's a huge, amusing, ooops.  And Pierce is such a guy.

It was not in the Linch nature to look away from the consequences of an act. The Linch had the exact opposite instinct, in fact. Leave no stone unturned, gather every fact, obtain the clearest perspective that was possible. So, as it was in the Linch character to investigate and as this was likely to be his last opportunity anyway, Pierce carefully and quietly turned his head so he could get a better look at Maeve, in daylight without any clothes on. It had been dark last night, he reasoned. And they had been drunk. He thought Maeve’s body had been a magnificent sight, but he really was not completely certain. Trust, but verify.

It was a doomed man’s last request. There had been so few of them he was able to recall each of his prior occasions with perfect clarity.

Obviously, he needed to increase his N to get anything close to a statistically adequate sample size. Maeve was lying on her side, facing him, arm thrown over her eyes. It would have been easier – better – if she had been on her back but this would be more than adequate. He lifted up the coverlet for a better look and, oh Tash’s hell, he should not have looked.  Pierce felt a primal surge that had nothing to do with auditing.

So, that’s what insane, put your head through a wall, throw caution to the wind, lust feels like.

He wanted to yank the coverlet completely off, wake Maeve up, and repeat right now everything he thought he remembered them doing last night, but do it all sober and in broad, bright daylight, so he could see it. Because Maeve Stanleh had a body that Calormene poets would sing odes to and a Tarkaan would give up a war horse for, with an extra slave girl tossed in.

Question was, would the list of people wanting to kill him just get longer if he had sober sex with Maeve Stanleh instead of drunken sex?

 

Comments

[rthstewart.livejournal.com]

RAWWWR to fic. I've been trying to be good and concentrate on it rather than other things, but mostly I've been revising the same 7,500 words for 3 weeks. Good luck! This is your Narnia WIP? right?

[the_rck]

Yes, it's the Narnia WIP. The problem is that I didn't really start with a definite story idea or a specific scene. I started with a general idea that there ought to be a story there. I think there is one, probably more than one. I'm just not getting very far.

Thanks for the good wishes!