Welcome back to WIPpet Wednesday, where wackiness ensues and writers share snippets of wips on Wednesdays. It’s a sad day here in Random Museville. Today I am forced to give you the last 377 words I currently have written for How Not To Buy A Dragon. My convoluted WIPpet math goes like this: 9(month)+17(date)=26 26/2=13 3+7+7=13 Tada!!!!! This takes place right after last week’s in which Janni offers Dachus a meal and a room. You can read the entire thing here. We begin with Dachus talking in response to Janni telling him he doesn’t know when to cut his losses.
“I’m offering you a good meal, Mr. Branacous, and a soft bed for the night. You can be gracious and accept them, or not. I am not offering you a dragon, and I never will. That’s not how it’s done. Nothing—” she stopped walking and turned to face him “—will force me to do so. And here I will be deadly serious. If you ever threaten this hold again, you will disappear down a dragon’s gullet faster than you can blink. There will be no evidence you ever arrived here. You will simply cease to exist.”
His face paled, the arrogance replaced first by incredulity, then a flicker of fear, followed by tight mouthed acceptance. To Janni’s surprise he bowed from the shoulders, one hand behind his back, left foot extended slightly.
“My apologies, Master Jannis,” he said.
Janni pursed her lips. “Mm-hmm. Your room is this way. Dinner is at the fifth bell.”
His lips parted, then compressed into a thin line. His gaze shifted to something in the distance as he raked his fingers through his hair, then grimaced at his hand as though it had somehow offended him.
“Today, Mr. Branacous,” Janni said. “I have things to do.”
“What? Oh. Yes.” He sighed, still glowering at his palm. “Master Jannis, I am afraid I find myself at quite a loss. I was not prepared to face such a difficulty, I admit. I have obviously offended you and the Dracon Hold, and as I embody the Proupunua in his absence, I have brought him shame by doing so. Were I a stronger man I suppose I would throw myself on my sword by way of penance.”
“You would need one first.”
He finally pulled his eyes back to her. “Pardon?”
“A sword,” Janni said, hard pressed to keep the corners of her mouth from twitching. “I notice you aren’t wearing one. Have you ever even used one? I only ask because falling on your own sword, although romantically noble, isn’t as easy as it sounds. Holding it steady, getting the right angle—I’ve seen men lop off their arm instead of the intended result. You could still bleed to death, but it takes all the glamor out of the gesture.”
I have no idea what I’m going to share for WIPpet Wednesdays from this point forward. Perhaps bits of EoD if I can find non-spoilery ones. Any writing time I can steal has gone toward that, and it’s crawling so I hate to devote that time to anything else. Hmmm…decisions, decisions.
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