TheCreativeWritingStudent

Thanks for the tag @tedwinisconfused!

Fanfic or Original? Title? 

I current have multiple 'open' projects; one of which is a fanfic, and one which may become one (haven't decided yet): a) It's Been a Long, Long Time (ongoing LB two-part AU, but I have limited energy/inspiration to actually finish it), b) [REDACTED TITLE] semi-historical/semi-fastasy siuanraine AU (has been outlined and the first chapter is being written, but I don't know if I will keep it as a fanfic or not)

First two sentences of your current project:

a) Unpublished 2nd chapter of 'It's Been a Long, Long Time': Soldiers burying soldiers. Warders searching for the corpses of their fallen Aes Sedai amongst the dead. b) [REDACTED]: There was no denying it... if The Forsaken were to come out of this storm with her men (and cargo— undoubtedly more valuable) alive, her Captain would give every sailor a hefty raise. He’d even cover a night’s entertainment at the nearest brothel once they reached port— he had sworn that much.

Most recently written sentence of your project 

[REDACTED]: Her fingers curled against the soft wool of her night-robe, nails digging half-moon crescents into the weave (if she were to pierce the fabric, she would wake the next morning to a brand-new robe— no one could ever accuse her family of wearing torn garments; not even the servants).

Favorite line(s) in your current project:

[REDACTED]: Even though the thought ought to have horrified her, the Cairhienin had grown accustomed to being seen as livestock. Her tribe had taken care in instilling in her from a young age (a very young age) what her purpose in life was. Still, there were times when she felt herself slipping outside her body, outside her own mind, as though she drifted somewhere just above herself before being pulled violently back. ‘Her episodes,’ her mother had called them when she had been alive. ‘Moiraine is having one of her episodes again,’ she would say, and as much as Moiraine still despised her mother— for oftentimes dead didn’t mean forgiven— she couldn’t fault her claims. [But] If she were to be treated as an animal, she might as well be treated as a free one. The silver-backed hairbrush passed through Moiraine’s hair and caught on a knot. A small hiss escaped her mouth— and she winced as she took in Egwene’s apologetic face reflected in the glass. If she were to focus hard enough on the small swoosh of the brush through her hair, it would remind the noblewoman of icy air passing between barren trees on a cold winter’s day.

How close is your project to the end?

Hahahahaha! I'm not even going to answer that. Given how I write... I really can't tell.