Is it spring yet?
Jan. 31st, 2013 03:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
elingregoryThis year has been worse than usual for getting the hibernation blues. Going to and from work in the dark, anti-UV film on the museum windows and low lux levels, huddling by the fire and dozing doesn't give much opportunity for doses of vitamin D and the bottled stuff doesn't really cut the mustard. But January is almost gone and the sun actually came out today so I feel I should stick my head over the parapet and wave a bit, even if it is with a white flag.
What have I been doing? Mostly see above. But I edited a story that I finished in November, pseudo-medieval hokum inspired by the Black Knight sketch in Monty Python and the Holy Grail. To avoid copyright infringement I didn't allow my hero to say either "that's just a flesh wound" or "I've had worse" but it was an effort.
I've been reading - a lot - catching up on books that everyone says are wonderful. I'm about to start Abigail Roux's Cut and Run series which sounds just up my alley and I'm trying couple of other things that might not be from the blurbs but you never know until you try. Reading recommendations - the only thing that would improve Joe Abercrombie's First Law series would be a sympathetic gltb character who doesn't die [though there may be one yet, I'm only part way into Before They Were Hanged]. Another rec - Skybound by Aleks Voinov. I can't think of anything that would improve that.
Anyhow, want a snippet? Anyone? Have a bit of A Taste of Copper anyway:
Olivier woke the fire and set water to heat before going to walk the stallion. Ira was still on edge. He snapped at Olivier when he unsaddled him, and strained away to the end of his rein. Olivier brought the gelding close by and after a few circuits of the camp the big horse calmed enough for Olivier to treat the worst of the bites on his shoulders. When he was done Olivier threw a blanket over him and left both horses nuzzling a pile of beans. It was not his job to groom horses, to fetch and carry foodstuffs, to build fires, but the last of the servants had run off days ago and Olivier was managing as best he could. Hot water he could achieve, and wine, but he had to admit that his cooking left much to be desired.
Laden with a steaming bucket and a jug, he entered the pavilion and looked for his master. Sir Maheris Schade, the best knight Olivier had ever seen, was still armoured but had removed his helmet and pushed back his coif. His short cap of black hair had spiked up with sweat and deep lines bracketed his full lips. He turned a fierce gaze on Olivier and snapped. "You took your time. Come and undo these buckles."
"Sir?" Olivier put his burdens down and hurried to his side. "Did I fasten them too tightly? I'm sorry, sir, I ..."
Maheris grunted and used his right hand to raise his left, ungauntleted now, to show it bright with blood. "A lucky stroke," he said. "Reihershof's point caught a chink in my brassard."
Olivier unarmed him, the stench of iron mingling with old sweat from the arming doublet. He set the pieces of armour aside to clean later and eased the arming doublet off over Maheris head. The left arm of it weighed heavy with blood and the shirt beneath was sodden.
"That will do," Maheris said once he was bare to the waist. He sank into the chair Olivier brought for him and set his left elbow on the table. His heavy shoulders and chest gleamed with sweat, goosefleshing in the chill air, but he waved Olivier away when he brought him a towel. "Time for that when the wound is sealed," he said. "You know what to do."
The wound in his bicep gaped like a hot wet mouth.
"Is it clean?" Maheris demanded. "Get on with it, boy."
Olivier knelt at his master's side, and used a little of the hot water and a clean rag to clean around the gash. More blood ran as he pinched the flesh to search the wound, but it had to be done. There—almost invisible against the flesh—a shred of thread from the torn shirt. Olivier took a silver needle and silk thread, seared one in flame and soaked the other in spirit. He used the needle to tease out the shred of fabric then closed the wound with three even stitches.
Maheris breathed deeply through his nose, his right hand clenching on the arm of his chair until Olivier was sure the wood would crack, but he made no sound, not even at the bite of the needle. Olivier pushed his hair back from his cheek with his wrist, grimacing at the scent of blood. He could even taste it in the air, sharp as sucking a copper penny, mingling with the far more pleasant smell of Sir Maheris's sweat.
What have I been doing? Mostly see above. But I edited a story that I finished in November, pseudo-medieval hokum inspired by the Black Knight sketch in Monty Python and the Holy Grail. To avoid copyright infringement I didn't allow my hero to say either "that's just a flesh wound" or "I've had worse" but it was an effort.
I've been reading - a lot - catching up on books that everyone says are wonderful. I'm about to start Abigail Roux's Cut and Run series which sounds just up my alley and I'm trying couple of other things that might not be from the blurbs but you never know until you try. Reading recommendations - the only thing that would improve Joe Abercrombie's First Law series would be a sympathetic gltb character who doesn't die [though there may be one yet, I'm only part way into Before They Were Hanged]. Another rec - Skybound by Aleks Voinov. I can't think of anything that would improve that.
Anyhow, want a snippet? Anyone? Have a bit of A Taste of Copper anyway:
Olivier woke the fire and set water to heat before going to walk the stallion. Ira was still on edge. He snapped at Olivier when he unsaddled him, and strained away to the end of his rein. Olivier brought the gelding close by and after a few circuits of the camp the big horse calmed enough for Olivier to treat the worst of the bites on his shoulders. When he was done Olivier threw a blanket over him and left both horses nuzzling a pile of beans. It was not his job to groom horses, to fetch and carry foodstuffs, to build fires, but the last of the servants had run off days ago and Olivier was managing as best he could. Hot water he could achieve, and wine, but he had to admit that his cooking left much to be desired.
Laden with a steaming bucket and a jug, he entered the pavilion and looked for his master. Sir Maheris Schade, the best knight Olivier had ever seen, was still armoured but had removed his helmet and pushed back his coif. His short cap of black hair had spiked up with sweat and deep lines bracketed his full lips. He turned a fierce gaze on Olivier and snapped. "You took your time. Come and undo these buckles."
"Sir?" Olivier put his burdens down and hurried to his side. "Did I fasten them too tightly? I'm sorry, sir, I ..."
Maheris grunted and used his right hand to raise his left, ungauntleted now, to show it bright with blood. "A lucky stroke," he said. "Reihershof's point caught a chink in my brassard."
Olivier unarmed him, the stench of iron mingling with old sweat from the arming doublet. He set the pieces of armour aside to clean later and eased the arming doublet off over Maheris head. The left arm of it weighed heavy with blood and the shirt beneath was sodden.
"That will do," Maheris said once he was bare to the waist. He sank into the chair Olivier brought for him and set his left elbow on the table. His heavy shoulders and chest gleamed with sweat, goosefleshing in the chill air, but he waved Olivier away when he brought him a towel. "Time for that when the wound is sealed," he said. "You know what to do."
The wound in his bicep gaped like a hot wet mouth.
"Is it clean?" Maheris demanded. "Get on with it, boy."
Olivier knelt at his master's side, and used a little of the hot water and a clean rag to clean around the gash. More blood ran as he pinched the flesh to search the wound, but it had to be done. There—almost invisible against the flesh—a shred of thread from the torn shirt. Olivier took a silver needle and silk thread, seared one in flame and soaked the other in spirit. He used the needle to tease out the shred of fabric then closed the wound with three even stitches.
Maheris breathed deeply through his nose, his right hand clenching on the arm of his chair until Olivier was sure the wood would crack, but he made no sound, not even at the bite of the needle. Olivier pushed his hair back from his cheek with his wrist, grimacing at the scent of blood. He could even taste it in the air, sharp as sucking a copper penny, mingling with the far more pleasant smell of Sir Maheris's sweat.
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no subject
Date: 2013-01-31 03:55 pm (UTC)Weather here has been all over the place! 65 Monday, 70 Tuesday, 55 yesterday, 27 today. Rain, snow, sunshine, etc. Mud to ice to mud again. (Ice today.) Dog and I have been out every day, but the greater part of the day spent hibernating in one form or another. Rereading "Thud", baking, making giant soup with all the leftovers in the fridge.
Sam came down from Chicago for a visit a weekend ago, a grand time was had. When you visit I will take YOU to the City Museum ( http://explorestlouis.com/visit-explore/see-do/see-do-member/?mid=29&gclid=CN6a3KT6krUCFWamPAodt3cALg )
no subject
Date: 2013-02-02 09:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-01-31 08:47 pm (UTC)I didn't like "Cut and Run", unlike most readers, so I'll be interested to see what you think.
Good luck with beating the winter-time blues. Down here in South Australia, we're in the midst of a long, hot dry summer, while the east coast is awash. But yesterday it rained for a bit, and was COLD, so I'm making the most of it by getting out into the garden.
no subject
Date: 2013-02-02 09:28 am (UTC)Not sure what I'll do with my knights. It's not a proper romance, you see. I've never got the hang of those. You're welcome to a pre-read if you'd like me to email it to you?
no subject
Date: 2013-02-05 05:32 am (UTC)I'd love to have a pre-read of your knights! Thanks for the offer. Do you have my e-mail address?
no subject
Date: 2013-02-05 08:32 am (UTC)Yes for two tough taciturn characters who didn't like to show their feelings Ty and Zane spent far too much time discussing them. But book two is better [I bought Sticks and Stones as well]. I think my opposition to the pingpong POV is that I've been there and done that myself and feel that just putting it out like that is cheating. Irrational I know.
no subject
Date: 2013-02-03 09:45 am (UTC)But I agree that it has been a very strange winter so far.
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Date: 2013-02-03 06:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-02-06 07:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-02-06 09:11 pm (UTC)