Back on The Drowning Kings today. It's in that awkward middle stage, where I know what needs to happen next, but first I have to get the characters through the talk-about-current-issue-and-travel stage. Which is dull and book-slowing. The talking has to happen, and I probably need a scene or two on the journey, but in order not to be even less pacey that it already is, what's really needed is getting to the next location. I suspect I'd do the 'what about the women' scene and then jump to 'N weeks later' in the next chapter.
Which will be Tintagel, by the way. This is an International Bl**dy Celtic book. (Dyfed and Cornwall were two separate kingdoms at this time, therefore...) Here's a short
'He had spent most of his time in the warband avoiding attention. All that was gone to nothing over the last few days. He might as well have arrived yipping and waving his spear over his head. Hyfaidd had marked him, and his life would never be the same again. The thought spoiled his appetite, which hadn’t been big to begin with. With a sigh, he pushed his bowl away. Gif nudged his knee optimistically. He broke off a piece of bread, dipped it in his uneaten porridge, and gave it to her.'
In other news, Horus is scared of the cat flap today, because it's flapping and banging in the wind. I was good and went to the gym and gerbiled (and over-strained my right wrist, stupid marquise).
I remain deeply underwhelmed at the plans of our new masters regarding welfare, work and community
Skirt of the day: long purple silky (with red crinkle doing petticoat duty underneath. It's cold here today)