#hu7u

Tagged by @faeveries, thanks!

Last 7ish lines from Prince for Hire:

“Ah.” Eskarez scratched his head. “Well, you never did strike me as the smart type, my prince. But you can’t go out looking like that.”

Ignoring the insult in favor of checking himself over, Kiris frowned. Night robe, a belt—he was perfectly fine. Or, at the least, no more indecent than any other night. Kiris grabbed his staff and raised it in question; perhaps the weapon was what Eskarez referred to.

“An excellent addition, my prince, but I was referring to the glowing.”

Tagged by @dogmomwrites and @eccaiia! For that, y'all get 14 lines.

Tagging: @axl-ul, @late-to-the-fandom, @my-cursed-prince, @talesofsorrowandofruin, @faeveries, and an open tag.

Been poking vaguely at Tyrant for Sale (Prince's sequel), so here's a little bit from that.

Heads Up, Seven Up

Tagged by several people, so I'll be doing these in groups of two (so, 14ish lines). First up, @sam-glade and @saltysupercomputer. Thanks for the tags!

Tagging: @sleepyowlwrites, @marigoldispeculiar, @avrablake, @stuffaboutwriting, and @on-noon!

Since there's nothing much new in Prince for Hire (editing, editing), I'm tapping into a backstory snippets document for Prince for this one. Have some child Kiris; he's maybe six in this :)

Thanks for the tag, @daisywords! Last 7ish from Prince for Hire:

Finally, ni Musyr’s gaze drifted from Nelovskevouk and deigned to light upon him. “Vakon,” she said.

“Strauv,” Kiris corrected, a faint echo of Nelovskevouk’s vehemence.

“Hm.” She straightened her papers and stacked them for delivery, smiling lightly at him. “In twenty-eight hours, I will come to your quarters, and I will kill you. What do you intend to do in the meantime?”

Thanks for the tag, @jamieanovels!! Looking forward to having more of your excerpts across my dash!

My last seven lines (conveniently, the last paragraph):

“And you’re a fool for believing it.” The Boots scoffed. “You trust too easily, Prophet. You always have: with Riasil, with the Headmaster, with Dyrmos, with Thaav. You walk into traps knowing they’re there and still act surprised when their teeth bite your ankle. We’re a god of experimentation, not stupidity. So stop being stupid and leave her.”

Sending this towards @marigoldispeculiar, @daisywords, @spuddlespud, @writingpotato07, @eccaiia, @on-noon, and @theglitchywriterboi!

Tagged by @ahordeofwasps! Thanks!

I can finally start to see the endgame of Prince for Hire. It’s been a long time coming, that’s for sure (currently sitting at just over 126k for this thing when I said it was going to be no more than 80k--I’m excited to see how much I can chop after just one round of editing). That said, still probably a good 30k yet to write 😬.

The last seven-ish sentences from where I left off just now:

“But—” His choice. Freedom from her whims. He shook his head and stumbled for it. “Everyone wants something from me. What do you want from me?”

“Nothing.”

“Lie,” he snapped, and stopped even though the Realms still tugged at him. “Everyone wants something from me, Batar. Everyone wants me for something. No one just—” he waved his hand—“lets me go.”

Tagging @eccaiia, @on-noon, @whimsyqueen, @fearofahumanplanet, and anyone else who’d like to hop in! Rules are to post the last seven lines (words, sentences, paragraphs...) you wrote.

Tagged by @ahordeofwasps here! Thanks!

As per more often than not, from Prince for Hire. One of the things I'm reworking this draft is building Kiris Avkonin and Iiriok Nelovskevouk's relationship better.

“You know nothing about me,” Kiris said, transfixed.

Nelovskevouk was unguarded, earnest, pained. “Teach me.”

Teach him, to be blackmailed into doing Nelovskevouk's bidding? To be offered to the Turre as the fastest means to the yarlyk? To be imprisoned as the Prophet Avkonin and never anything Kiris? To be hated for his lies and used for his Prophecies?

To be feared?

Kiris ran.

Tagged by @the-stray-storyteller! Thanks!

Last 7-ish lines I wrote in Prince for Hire:

“I do not simply ‘turn up’,” Batar said, and Kiris whirled around. “I proceed. A skill it would behoove you to practice.” She wore deep greens in contrast to Nelovskevouk’s chosen blues, the edges of her tunics lined in fox fur. A frown graced her lips as she looked Kiris over, and finally, she sighed. Before he could flinch out of reach, she tugged down his tunics and straightened his circlet. Her hands lingered on his shoulders. “Look sharp, na Suem. You aren’t Vakon anymore.”

Her hands were warm there, and binding. Kiris’ mouth fell dry.

“Please don’t touch me.”