#marinating wips

Thanks for the tag @pertinax--loculos!!! Have some of the weirdos <3

A line about work:

“On top of everything else, frostbite,” Quintus complains. Barely visible off to one side, the one armed skeleton stands uncomfortably.  “And no, it doesn’t add that much to my workload, but it’s not very nice to deal with. If Nikolaos doesn’t wake, I swear on his god that you’ll never sleep again, you sad sack of – oh.” His face comes into focus, inquisitive. “Welcome back, Niko.”

A line of description:

Miriam marches up two flights of stairs and into a decently sized chamber with a view of the street through large windows. A wide bed covered in wool blankets sits against the back wall, a carved cabinet beside it. Stone benches carved from the wall itself fill another corner.

A line that breaks your heart (the less context the better ;)):

He doesn't speak any of it out loud. He doesn't need to. Nikolaos has been reading Quintus's mind for a long time now, denying himself even longer.

A line that makes you smile (no context also encouraged! :D):

“Yes, yes, it’s tugging at my ethical heartstrings,” Quintus says, standing and grabbing the pot. “I’m going to make you some soup, you ungrateful knave.”

I'll tag @reneesbooks @writingrosesonneptune @eccaiia @memento-morri-writes @zmwrites @thegreatobsesso @mrbexwrites @sunset-a-story and anyone else who'd like to play with these prompts!

Thanks for the tags, @winterandwords and @memento-morri-writes! I won't lie, I've been doing very little writing recently, so I haven't much to show, but I hope you'll accept this new Necromancer WIP snippet with love...

Miriam leaves them to it. She pushes away from the table and walks along the row of still celebrating townspeople. A man raises his mug of ale and cheers, two young women embrace over empty plates. Away from the string of lights, shadows pool, dripping off leaning thatched rooftops, pouring over rain barrels and window boxes. Quintus, when she finds him, is lying half in a garden box like a corpse. “Good heavens,” Miriam says, unsure at first, if she’s hallucinating. Quintus lifts his head just barely, and that’s how Miriam knows he’s alive, just as drunk as a bumblebee on a spring day.

Thanks for this ancient tag, @space-writes!!! <3 Here's something from a midnight writing session last night...

“Your quarrel is with me,” Nikolaos says quietly. “You need not harm anyone else.” Quintus can’t make out what’s happening behind him if he wants to keep his insides inside of him. He blocks one swing and dodges another, trying to find a way to trick his opponents into striking each other, but they’re fast. “I think you’ll find my quarrel is with Quintus Asclepius Inaeus,” Percival says. “I think you’ll find I have plenty over which to bring him harm.” “If you hurt him,” Nikolaos says slowly, “I’ll kill myself before serving you.” Percival’s smile is so loud that the entire terrace drips with it. “But then,” he says, “He’d just bring you back, wouldn’t he?”

Thank you for the tag, @talesofsorrowandofruin!! 💛

A line where someone is saying someone's name:

Nikolaos’s dark gaze is searching. His pupils are slightly dilated. “What do you ask of me, Quintus?”

A line featuring a vehicle:

Quintus, limping behind him, sweating through his borrowed shirt, exhausted from carrying only his sword, glares down at the sight of his boots passing over every pebble and crack in the earth. “Only one horse? Why not a carriage?”

A line featuring a food:

Quintus picks at the sweet pear tart and the rich goat’s cheese and the soft, fresh bread. Nikolaos is ravenous, but he holds himself back. Dying always seems to make him starved.

A line that makes no sense out of context:

Nikolaos’s mouth quirks. “We got the peacock.”

I'll tag @reneesbooks @mrbexwrites @zmwrites @sunset-a-story @talesfromaurea @pertinax--loculos @loopyhoopywrites and anyone else who sees this and wants to join in! Your lines are:

Thank you so much for the tag, @diphthongsfordays!! Let's check in on Quintus the Necromancer again...I'm sure he's doing juuuust fine ;)

Fresh:

“Good grief,” Quintus manages, his voice hoarse in his throat. “Does it need stitching?” “I don’t know.” “Then show me how big it is.” Nikolaos’s right hand comes around, two of the fingers glistening with fresh blood. His thumb and first finger spread, describing a space the size of a large apple. “Good grief,” Quintus repeats. “Yes, it needs stitching.” “Wonderful,” Nikolaos says, in the most un-wonderful tone Quintus has ever heard.

Dull:

All her training is suddenly gone when faced with this mountain of a man. Miriam looks down the flat of his blade – Nikolaos’s blade – and quails in her stockings. How can she hope to survive with only this dull, diminutive, dagger? Breathe, Daniel says in her mind. Shoulders loose. If you have the smaller weapon, rob him of his reach. Miriam charges, ducking under the pirate’s arm and slashing with her blade. He has to twist to avoid her strike, and in the moment before he can turn, she slips past him and sinks her knife into his back.

Peace:

They’re shown the water pump outside, handed a stack of blankets and a lantern, and left alone for the night. The inky dark settles around Quintus like a lover’s arms, and he looks more at peace than he has in many days when he looks over at Nikolaos.

Free:

“Is something wrong?” comes Miriam’s voice, thick with sleep. “No, nothing,” Nikolaos calls back immediately, sitting up and taking ahold of Quintus’s face with his free hand. “Go back to sleep.” To Quintus, he adds quietly, “Breathe, you blockhead.” Quintus does, buoyed by the hand against his heart, the hand warm under his chin, around the side of his face. It is grounding, to be held like this, forced to be still. His tripping heart finally starts to take notice.

Thanks for these tags, @kitty-is-writing and @willtheweaver!

They eat fluffy pastries stuffed with potato and other vegetables and coarse spiced flatbread spread with ground meat. Quintus eats half of everything and puts the rest on Nikolaos’s plate. Nikolaos waits until he’s not looking and replaces the food with half of his own. Miriam wonders why he doesn’t just tell Quintus to stop. Every time she thinks she’s starting to figure them out, the two of them invent some new and disturbing dance that they insist they’ve been doing the whole time and is perfectly normal. At this point, there’s not much point in mentioning it, but habits linger, so Miriam puts her foot in her mouth and says, “Quintus, why do you feed him like that?” Quintus looks at her. It’s a flat stare, the sort made to intimidate, and Miriam is intimidated, but she does her best not to let it show. “Like what?” he says, the two syllables precise in his mouth. “Isn’t he capable of doing it himself?” And to Nikolaos, because she’s sorry they’re talking about him like he’s an infant, she adds, “Aren’t you?” “Do I tell you what to do?” Quintus demands. Miriam raises an eyebrow. “On the regular, I’m afraid.”

Hiiii guys, I'm alive!!! This week and this heat are kicking my butt, and I'm so grateful to have made it to Friday. ;) The last thing I worked on was Bent Nails, so today I'm playing with GRAVE. Thank you, @memento-morri-writes!! <3

G. Guilt pooled in the pit of her stomach.

R. “Real life is dramatic too.”

A. At the register, they had a brief and silent wrestling match to hand over a credit card first, which Jacob won by cheating and trying to kiss Michael again, which Michael dodged, like any sane human would.

V. “Victory!” Jacob cheered, shaking Michael a little with his arm.

E. “Excuse you, I am a normal guy purchasing a large piece of living room furniture. It’s only natural that I should want my furniture to suit my needs, and I think you’ll find that my criteria are far from uncouth.”