Work in Progress Wednesday I

Several of the fiction blogs I follow post things as a part of WIP Wednesdays, passages from things they are working on. Sneak peaks so to speak. I’ve never considered doing this before, but I decided to try it. Below the cut I have a very, very short excerpt from the upcoming chapter of the disaster (I have way more written, but it’s a hot mess right now) and also something from a “flashback” story I’ve written (which may show up as a chapter or a standalone story).  All of this is really, really rough and kind of terrible and naturally, subject to change.

From Chapter 25 (I’m really hoping to have this finished over the weekend):

Xeri rubbed the back of her neck. She wasn’t used to this. In Cyrodiil, when Xeri Tharys demanded something, it was hers. But here in Castle Dour, she had no clout, no connections. All she had was a made up story and a strong admonishment from Nerussa forbidding any physical altercations. On this last point she conceded—reluctantly. Initially, Nerussa was meant to contact someone from Jarl Elisif’s court with whom she had an acquaintance, but rumors of a Thalmor delegation convening nearby put Xeri in the Castle in her stead. Nerussa’s contact was away….

“Look,” she said, tossing a coinpurse on the table. “All I’m asking for is a location. I don’t mean the Legion any harm, I promise.

But the young Auxiliary would not budge. Xeri rolled her eyes, irritated that she would have to pack up and wait out this guy’s shift in the Winking Skeever.   Perhaps the next soldier would be more easily influenced, a young lad or lass from some poverty stricken village for whom the temptation for that much coin would be too much to resist. In Skyrim of all places, this soldier had to be an exception. If not, they would have to leave and seek Legion assistance in High Rock or worse, Cyrodiil. Though they had far more connections in both places, distance and safety were a factor. The less they had to travel, the better.

And, from the story of how Runa and Xeri first met:

One Nord.

Xeri was incredulous that they were going through all this trouble for one Nord. It’s not that she had anything against Nords, but the Thalmor had lots of prisoners and Xeri couldn’t help but wonder what was so special about this one who was neither a Blade nor a mage. She was a priest of Talos, one of the many gathered from Imperial City and one of the few who refused to renounce their devotion to the now banned Divine. Most had chosen to save their own skin, knowing that their work would simply go on in secret. But not this one.

“Who is this woman?” Xeri asked as they sat crouched by the Wayshrine of Tiber Septim, just north of Fort Variela, where the Thalmor had set up a temporary headquarters to oversee implementation of the Concordant.

“I don’t know,” Irinde replied, “but she’s important to someone, and if we don’t get her out of there, they’re going to bring her here and lob her head off.”

“I’m surprised they aren’t taking her to Bruma, to the Temple of Talos. Seems they could make a much more powerful statement there.”

“Perhaps, I think they want to do this without inciting the masses,” Irinde replied. “Besides, it’s no longer the Temple of Talos, it’s the Temple of St. Martin.”

“That didn’t take long.” Xeri wasn’t terribly surprised. One of the few cities to go unscathed during the war, the citizens and ministry would no doubt want to maintain the peace.


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