Sunday 11 March 2012

SIX SENTENCE SUNDAY - DRAWN - a dele; a gift with ties that bind

I have been busy. I have rewritten the start of MORTIMER and  taken a little time to help Darrah out of the mess being caught in the snow left her suffering.


Darrah has been charged with finding and rescuing the Regal's heir. The evidence suggests he was taken by a band of Sarkisians who feed directly from the living. Darrah fights her cultural prejudice and instinctive fears when The Sarkisian Council send Fauld Hale to work alongside her to rescue the boy and maintain the fragile peace between their peoples.

This is my, gift of renewal but it will come with a price, SUNDAY 6:

Purple, grey and black - and stiffly heavy - her mottled foot look less damaged than it felt. Darrah was a millstone that would have to be carried. Her injury was debilitating: it eroded her presence, diminished her reputation, ended her ability to fight to protect the realm… and it shamed her men.
With one knowing look, Hale stepped inside the steely point of her pride. He raised her face close and whispered, “I dele my lifeforce to you for more than your own good. Remember that.”


Clay Beaumont and I were suddenly eye to eye. Great. His eyes should have been a good 40 bits higher than mine. I’m not sure how we came to be glaring at each other like that. He didn’t want to be there. He didn't want to have to finish off the game by letting Erith Payne inflict humiliation on his head and top it off with scorn. 


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