That character I mentioned in that other snippet, her name was Megs - She's a zombie now, who is also possessed by a rather chatty demon.
Arin is travelling with the very same evil Queen she swore to destroy.
Aaaaaaaaand nothing else has fucking happened.
I think I may have to skip a year of NaNo. These past two years have been an unpleasant, uninspired shit-show. Please don't ask me about them because honestly, I'm not even that excited to talk about it. Ugh, it's like a chore. That's a sign I should probably give it a rest, I suppose.
In other news - Wolfenoot is the 23rd, wee! I'm going to take my Pups to the Dog park whilst wearing my wolfy scarf-hat combo.
Tuesday, November 20, 2018
Monday, November 5, 2018
NaNoWriMo Day 5 Update
It's that time again!
I didn't bother warning you cuz none of you do it with me anyway. SO instead, this ear, I'm going to try and post updates, with snippets of what I've written in my mad rush to keep up with my word count!
The first update is at 4,613 words on day 5 (WAY behind) And it is a description of one of my main characters, from the perspective of one of my OTHER main characters. Enjoy!
--
Arin’s hair would have been lovely were it longer, but now it was short, feathery and shaved to her scalp on both sides of her head, leaving a trail of chestnut from her brow to the back of her neck. Her left ear was mangled and scarred to the side of her head, spiderwebs of other scars reaching delicate tendrils across that part of her shaved scalp and down into the collar of her shirt to where her arm had been taken from her at he shoulder.
Megs also knew that Arin’s left side was similarly scroed with crack-like scars, all the way down to her knee. None of those tendrils reached past onto the right side, but they were darker than normal scars. Where a normal scar would pink and be lighter than the skin it decorated, Arin’s scars seemed to be darker at the core, as if something had threaded itself through her.
Megs’ father had found her and brought her home. That had been, oh, six years ago? Maybe seven by now?
But Arin’s eyes were so clear and vivid, her right one green and verdant, the left one green but like a cracked marble, veined with that same darker color.
Frightening, her whole visage, at least that's what a lot of normal people thought as they saw her. They shied away from her height - a muscular five foot and ten at least, nearly a whole head taller than Megs. Her nose had been broken in her past, a faint scar on the bridge of it, and her lips were more full on the bottom than the top, but were always seemingly cocked in a smirk, resting above a sharp line of her powerful chin, and below the angled slice of her cheekbones.
In some lights she seemed malnourished, eyes deep set and eerie beneath full expressive eyebrows. Her hairline had the pull of a widow’s peak, which only accented the mohawk of hair she had carved there.
I didn't bother warning you cuz none of you do it with me anyway. SO instead, this ear, I'm going to try and post updates, with snippets of what I've written in my mad rush to keep up with my word count!
The first update is at 4,613 words on day 5 (WAY behind) And it is a description of one of my main characters, from the perspective of one of my OTHER main characters. Enjoy!
--
Arin’s hair would have been lovely were it longer, but now it was short, feathery and shaved to her scalp on both sides of her head, leaving a trail of chestnut from her brow to the back of her neck. Her left ear was mangled and scarred to the side of her head, spiderwebs of other scars reaching delicate tendrils across that part of her shaved scalp and down into the collar of her shirt to where her arm had been taken from her at he shoulder.
Megs also knew that Arin’s left side was similarly scroed with crack-like scars, all the way down to her knee. None of those tendrils reached past onto the right side, but they were darker than normal scars. Where a normal scar would pink and be lighter than the skin it decorated, Arin’s scars seemed to be darker at the core, as if something had threaded itself through her.
Megs’ father had found her and brought her home. That had been, oh, six years ago? Maybe seven by now?
But Arin’s eyes were so clear and vivid, her right one green and verdant, the left one green but like a cracked marble, veined with that same darker color.
Frightening, her whole visage, at least that's what a lot of normal people thought as they saw her. They shied away from her height - a muscular five foot and ten at least, nearly a whole head taller than Megs. Her nose had been broken in her past, a faint scar on the bridge of it, and her lips were more full on the bottom than the top, but were always seemingly cocked in a smirk, resting above a sharp line of her powerful chin, and below the angled slice of her cheekbones.
In some lights she seemed malnourished, eyes deep set and eerie beneath full expressive eyebrows. Her hairline had the pull of a widow’s peak, which only accented the mohawk of hair she had carved there.
Many people thought she was a man at first glance.
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