Traveler. Art lover. Food lover. Book lover. Animal lover. Beach lover. Movie lover. Beer, wine, sports and fanfic enthusiast. I blog about whatever the hell tickles my fancy.
Hey chickadees. <3 I’ve been feeling especially glum of late and I know several of you have as well, and in light of your wonderfully unexpected outpouring of sweetness at yesterday’s writing check-in, I thought it might make a nice treat to share the whole first scene of Chapter 12 (about 4200 words, or a normal-sized chapter of most other fics ;D).
After this things get really spoilery, mind, so this is the only lengthy excerpt you’ll get before the chapter comes out, though I’ll still do check-ins and all in the interim. :D
I sit in bed for a long while, turning the precious orange over and over in my hands and letting its red satin tails slip between my fingers. As I learned last night, everyone in this house knows what red ribbons mean. My companion has given me a sweetheart’s token; tucked it into my hand, even, so I would discover it as soon as I woke.
Between the red ribbon and the tear-dampened kisses that my companion pressed to my hair last night, I can rule out Lavinia…but then, I’ve always known, deep down, that it wasn’t her. For one, my bed partner is simply too heavy – and heavy-footed. I’ve shared a house with Lavinia and a bed with them for a month now; I know the sound and rhythm of steps, as any hunter should, and how much the mattress gives at their weight, even when I’m two arm-lengths away from my companion’s body. Also, Lavinia’s response to the wintergreen sprig – it’s about time – made it clear that, while she may be aware of my companion’s presence, as I’ve long suspected, she’s not that companion herself.
Not to mention, if Lavinia truly wanted to share my bed, she would never have bothered with secrecy. She would have crawled beneath the covers, as casually as Prim does, and pressed a kiss to my cheek before curling up behind me like a kitten and, likelier than not, burrowing cold toes against my calves.
No, my companion is not Lavinia and, more to the point, it’s not a girl. For the past month, I’ve shared this bed of fur and deerskin with a man.
Dear Patrick, we’re sorry to have demoted you to number 4, but you can’t stay on top forever! It’s good to change position now and then and spread the love around. Besides, we bet you’ve been basking in the glory of last year’s triumph, most likely feigning embarrassment and humility when the subject is brought up, while secretly thanking your lucky stars that the Barrister Hottie Experts moved to the UK and found their chosen metier. In an ideal world, you would have set us up with some of your single friends (if you have any) in recompense. But nobody is perfect. And since we can’t deny your hotness, and since hotness is the purpose of the blog, let us take a moment of silence to celebrate your beauty. Has 39 Essex Street seen an uptick in the number of female pupilage applicants since our list came out? We bet it has.
I just finished watching my Catching Fire DVD and man. As much as I love the movie and Everlark. Finnick’s voice, especially before the tribute parade still makes my lady bits tingle. Lol.