I was tagged by the wonderful @mrspizzle for this wip game!
Rules: you will be given a word. Then you share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that starts with each letter of your word! The word I was given: wine
I’m tagging any of my writer pals out there! My mind is blanking on who might be working on stuff right now 💜
While Henry has never been the best Christian, though he tries to be, at the very least, he aims to be a good one. Sleep beckons him during mass and he has been known to steal, drink and fuck irresponsibly, but this might be the first time he has blasphemed mere footsteps away from statue of the Virgin herself.
It’s an honor, apparently, for Henry, a mere bastard bodyguard, to be given leave to share a tent with his lord. The lads grumbled goodnaturedly about special treatment until Oats kindly reminded everyone Henry is the son of the Royal Hetman, therefore worthy of sticking close to their Lord Capon’s side.
(Henry isn’t sure if he agrees or even understands what good about being a nobleman’s bastard is. Sure, he gets a better bedroll and Hans’ sleep talk about ducks and demonic carrots but everyone looks at him as though he was born scandalous – which, to be fair, he was.)
“No. I mean you know her. Know her better than you would one of our neighbors.”
The blade of the saw hovers over an ankle, the sharp edge floating just over the point where the joints meet.
“We grew up together,” Sir Radzig reveals. The blade touches down and skin separates, revealing muscle and bone. “In Dvoretz.”
E this is kinda cheating 😂
“Eh, we also would exchange body heat when it got bad,” Henry says offhandedly. It’s not a serious suggestion. He doubts Hans wants him sealed tight against him – he can nearly hear the promised disgust and raucous jokes. You're no bath wrench, Henry! “I would sleep right between –”
Henry blinks in surprise at the quick reply. The overly quick reply.