I’m not really drafting on Wattpad, merely sharing as I go. For Cladessa, I’m back to writing inside yWriter5.
Because I’m a naturally messy person, the organisation of my Scrivener files left a lot to be desired! In yWriter5, everything I need is in place, where it can be found and used. Since I used it last, I see it has lots of new things – tags, rich text editor, a bigger profile picture space for characters.
I finally started the first draft today (22 May 2017) with one of my typical short scenes.
“What are you doing?”
The little mage light almost slipped from my fingers as I swung around to face my new husband. Even though he stood in the shadows, I could see his frown.
“I was starving,” I said. “I couldn’t stay abed any longer.” As if to back up my words, my stomach groaned.
Jarryd laughed as he strode toward me. He had left the bed in haste, it seemed, for his shirt flapped about bared legs. He gathered me into his arms, kissing me until his passion saw me backed up against the edge of the kitchen table. He hefted my bottom up on to the smooth wood, his intent obvious when he dragged up my skirts. The mage light fell from my fingers and rolled across the table.
My eyes followed it across the floor until it settled between booted feet in the doorway, illuminating the lower half of some sort of uniform.
“Oh, don’t mind me,” said the voice belonging to the boots. “Go to it, lad. We can take youse in, when you’re done.”
“Warders,” Jarryd whispered, putting me on my feet. Screening me from the two men, he tied the laces on my bodice.
“No?” The warder’s chortle bounced about the room. “Come along then. These your pants? Found them on the banister.”
Jarryd snatched the black leather trousers and hopped into them as we were ushered towards the entrance of the unused building. I kept my eyes downcast, should their golden flecks betray my unborn babe’s magic with a glow of their own. My face surely glowed enough to light up the citadel.
Jarryd’s stiffness revealed his anger as he took my hand. “I told you not to wander,” he hissed. “Leave the talking to me.”
“This your mage light?” the second guard asked.
“No. No, of course not,” Jarryd said. “What would a drover’s son be doing with a mage light? We were just looking for somewhere to stay out the curfew.”
“A drover’s son, aye, in dragonrider pants? I know me leathers, lad. You better give a better story come the watchward.”
I opened my mouth to protest our innocence.
Jarryd tightened his grip on my fingers. “Let the tavern whore go,” he said. “The trespass was my idea.”
Pouting, I yanked my hand free. “Stingy bastard,” I said, tossing my curls. “Wouldn’t even pay for a bed.”
“Nice try,” growled the warder. “She stays. We got beds aplenty at the watchward.”
Silent, we trudged across the deserted square towards Watchward Eighalh, its squat base set into the towering wall. Atop the tower, the curves of the travlring reflected the waters of the mountain lake beyond.
If only I could flee through that ring, back home to Skerby, back home to the safety of my father’s tavern.
Again, I sighed, knowing full well my destiny, if caught – wizard babies, lots of them, for the rest of my days.
Well, works for me. I just wanted to get Taniel and Jarryd down into the dungeon with Dax.
No mucking about. 🙂