...the task of which is the following:
On Saturday, June 26th, post a 500-1000 word scene of your characters being interrupted - doesn't matter what they're doing, doesn't matter what's interrupting them (end of the world, knock on the door, little voice in their head...), they just need to be interrupted.Well, this is certainly a blogfest for me. Not only do my characters constantly interrupt me (preferably when I'm working), they do it to each other, too. The following is an excerpt from last year's NaNo novel The Blood of the Land. Taren (the MC) first gets interrupted in his musings by the brash Duke of Ware, then interrupted (or saved?) again by Esialetha...looking for something appropriate to post for this blogfest, I found out that conversations are the most-interrupted thing I have in my writing...go figure.
I watched through the dirty window as the people congregated on the field of brown grass that had once been the market green, offering their meager goods. Food was growing scarce and fuel was almost non-existent. The salt was everywhere and nothing would grow. The people grew gaunt and grey as the fields lay fallow and night descended on our kingdom.
I turned to watch my fellow lords and ladies chink glasses and make merry. There were so many candles burning that daylight and nightfall faded away to insignificance inside the Royal Lodge. They laughed and danced and made music. Servants circulated the room with heavy trays of crystal glasses full of bright and bubbly things. Others wandered back and forth between the great rooms and the kitchens with plates of food in finger-sized portions. I stared at the glass in my hand. A pretty thing, etched with patterns and swirls and the royal seal. I downed the amber liquid it held and stifled a cough at its bite.
A hand slapped my back and snaked across my shoulders, holding me still. “Amber! Why so glum on such a fine afternoon, your highness?” The sun is shining, the company is good, there’s drink aplenty. Are those not reasons to celebrate? And you off on the first quest in almost a century! We need to raise our glasses to that!”
I hated it when they called me Amber. Duke of Amber was my courtesy title so long my father held the throne, but right now I’d prefer some more amber in my glass, thank you very much. I looked about but there was no servant close enough to refill my glass right now. There might be alcohol aplenty swimming about, but apparently even a prince had to wait for relief.
“Your Grace,” I said, resigned to spend some sadly sober minutes with my least favourite amongst this inane throng of merrymakers. “These are indeed most fortunate circumstances.”
The Duke of Ware’s coarse laugh made him sound like a bear in rut, but I smiled along anyway. That man wouldn’t know irony if it came up and introduced itself, but he was the greatest landowner outside the royal family. His was one of the estates least affected by the salt creep. One had to play nice with such people, or so my father taught me.
Nobody came to my rescue as he started expounding on the fine music. Darkness fell most thoroughly and the market outside emptied as he rambled on and on. He’d finished with the music and the wonderful quality of drinks and moved on to the ingratitude of peasants when the rescue party finally arrived.
The most beautiful woman in the room had come to join us in our corner. Her red dress glowed in the candlelight and everything seemed to sparkle around her.
“Ware, isn’t that your wife over there, drinking Castlewaithe’s whiskey?” she asked, pointing towards the court’s most ardent ladies’ man. Ware almost choked on his drink, then excused himself and ran off to corral his wife.
I bowed low to my golden beauty as she gave me her hand. I kissed her palm and pulled her into my arms. She smelled of honey and cinnamon. She was home and love to me, light in all the darkness.
“That was well done, my love,” I whispered into her hair. We swayed gently to the music. I rested my cheek against her hair and started to hum along. It would have been perfect, had we been alone.
“Taren, light of my life, you can’t let him get to you.”
“I do not want to leave tomorrow, my heart,” I said.
“And I do not wish you to go. But go you must.”
Did you like that? The scene isn't actually in the most recent edit of the story, because Esialetha's role has changed, but I still like it so I thought I'd share it with you. Let me know what you think!
...and don't forget to check out the other entries to this blogfest HERE.