Check-in Friday 1st June (Betas and Snippets)

[lacygrey]

Hi, welcome to June. Hows it going?

Poll #10704

Open to: Registered Users, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 12

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Today, I...

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wrote
3 (25.0%)

researched
1 (8.3%)

edited
1 (8.3%)

sent to beta
1 (8.3%)

posted
1 (8.3%)

did something else about writing
1 (8.3%)

did really something else
4 (33.3%)

Friday is also the weekly day for snippets and beta requests, so let us know what you are doing and what you need.

Comments

[roane]

Chapter 7 is with my betas right now, and I've got a good headstart on chapter 8, so... yay? :) Don't expect I'll get much done tonight, but we'll see. Anyway, have a snippet from Chapter 7. Bad things are starting to happen.

*****

When the alarm went off, he was confused, groggy. It didn't sound like the bedside alarm at all. It sounded like his phone. By the second ring, the sounds of the train had reoriented him. John fumbled for his phone with sleep-heavy fingers, nearly dropping it. He managed to grab it and flip it open just before voice mail answered. "Yeah?"

"John? It's, uh, it's Greg."

The grogginess vanished and John sat up in a single rolling motion. "What's happened?"

"We—um." Greg cleared his throat. "We don't know where Sherlock is."

Two things happened at once: John felt his stomach drop and his mind slip into a state of icy calm. "As of when?"

"We—we were setting up for the show. He was in the bar, I swear—"

"When did you realise he was gone?" John bites off each word with precision. "How long ago?"

"Twenty minutes? Anderson opened his guitar case and found a note."

"What? What does it say?" John switched the phone to his other hand, turning towards the window to keep his conversation quieter.

"'When John gets here, tell him to meet me at this address. -SH' Then there's an address underneath." Greg paused, then sounded hesitant. "It looks like his handwriting."

"Yeah, it looked like mine on the receipt too. Fucking hell." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Did you call him?"

"Three times. It's just going to voice mail," Greg said.

[crowdog66]

I love the way you portray John's trained professionalism here: in a crisis he certainly has an emotional response, but he immediately slips into "coping with the emergency" mode as well. Very nicely done!

[roane]

Thank you! John is nothing if not cool in a crisis--usually. One of the many reasons I adore him. :D

[crowdog66]

I'm going to try desperately to find time to get some writing in today, but between a cover I need to paint and a doctor's appointment I fear that time will be in very short supply.

I do, however, have a (longish because of the conversation flow) snippet from a Lethe!verse story I wrote and posted this week, "Moonlight". Background: Bob and Megabyte are at a high society party, and Megabyte is, as usual, playing politics -- including flirting with a young noblewoman whose influence would prove quite useful to him. It's all part of the game as far as he's concerned, but Bob is fed up with it: he curtly excuses himself and retreats to a balcony overlooking the city, where he's been doing a slow burn for the past couple of minute...

This fic is based on a piece of art I created, which can be found here.

*****************************************************

A footfall on the deck behind him, the unmistakable muted ring of metal on stone, carried over the babble of conversation from within the ballroom and alerted Bob to the fact that he was no longer alone. He didn't look round even when the virus's steps, deceptively light for something so heavy, came right up beside him and a long-fingered right hand curved around his waist, followed by a friendly inquiry: "Enjoying the view?"

Bob took a sullen sip of his wine. "A lot more than the one inside, that's for sure."

Megabyte chuckled and set his own glass of wine — also the crimson vintage of S'harva's sun-drenched fields — down on the stone railing to his left. Clearly he was settling in for a long stay. "Yes, you've made that abundantly clear. I'm surprised you didn't simply throw your glass of wine in her face and be done with it."

"You would've liked that, wouldn't you?" He made no effort to keep the smouldering accusation out of his voice. "A chance to comfort a screaming, weeping woman in front of Lord Denhilde and his cronies… yeah, let's just say I didn't feel like doing you any favours."

"Nor have you," Megabyte replied, a sterner note replacing his amusement. "Your little tantrum was painfully obvious to everybody in the room, and it did me no credit whatsoever."

"You're welcome." Another sip of wine. "And don't expect me to feel too sorry for you — for one thing, I'm not your child, and for another, I'm pretty damned sure you'll find a way to turn it to your advantage."

"True, but I am your elder — and as my younger lover, your conduct is considered a reflection of my —"

"Your what? Your authority over me?" Bob scowled, his voice sinking to a dangerous mutter. "We've had this conversation before, remember? And it didn't end well then either."

"Bob." He knew that tone too well — the coaxing purr, soft and seductive, that concealed a steel fist beneath the velvet finish. Megabyte's fingers tightened against his waist, revealing the slightest warning extension of his claws. "I'm not asking for the Gorshan Sea… all I ask is that you behave in a civilized manner when we attend —"

Bob snorted and glanced away over the cityscape below. "Oh, great — now you're calling me an uncultured lout!"

Megabyte chuckled, sounding amiable once more… but there were the claws, of course. "And I must say you're living up to the name admirably well."

"Yeah, and you're flirting like a —" He bit back the comparison that came to mind, which had something to do with the ladies-for-hire who strolled Cestiala's Appian Way and would likely have turned this barely civil exchange into a firestorm of acrimony — and that was if Megabyte was in a good mood. Instead he shook his head and, with a shallow sigh, set aside his own glass to his right so that he could turn his full attention to the sharply contoured face gazing intently down at him. "Look, I know it's all part of the game for you. I get that. But do you have to do it every time she's in the same room with us?"

[roane]

Man. Schmoop is fun to write? But fights are SO much more fun. ;)

[insignia]

I didn't get around to writing anything, but I did spend the day reading Yu-Gi-Oh! That's totally writing-related, because it'll help my characterisation! ^_^;