*sings* "...if I only had a brain..."
Jan. 18th, 2012 08:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
elingregoryI have decided that I am on the mend! This time last week I was curled up, whining miserably in between coughing fits. I didn't even want to READ!!!
This week the coughing is less but I am whining to myself about how much I have to do. Still they say being busy is good for you. Totting up the WIPs:
Text for a guidebook to be completed by 6th February [also photos, illustrations, stuff!]
Pirates - I've reached the stage where they are annoying me so I need to finish them quickly.
As Kit had spoken Griffin had put his glass aside, the line of his lips tightening as he listened. Once Kit has finished he jerked his head aft.
“A word in private, if you please, Mr Penrose,” Griffin said, each word clipped with anger.
“With pleasure, Captain Griffin,” Kit said and stood.
Africa offered little enough privacy at the best of times. Tonight, anchored in a dead calm with the whole company mere paces away, the deck offered no possibility of a frank exchange of views. Therefore Kit was not surprised when Griffin stepped past him to take the stairs down to the cabin.
No sooner was the door closed behind them then Griffin’s hands gripped Kit’s shoulders and drove him back against the panels with enough force to make him grunt.
“I told you,” Griffin snarled, “that I did not want you with me. This is between Jago and me. You are – irrelevant. You are not coming.”
That hurt. Kit had suspected that Griffin had only been amusing himself but to hear it said so baldly still shocked him. He clenched his teeth on the pain, placed a hand against Griffin’s chest and pushed him off.
“I am,” Kit said. “Someone needs to be sober.”
It was dark in the cabin, but there was enough light from the window to glimmer on Griffin’s white shirtsleeve as his fist swung towards Kit’s face. Kit dived aside, catching his breath at the crack of knuckles against wood and Griffin’s gasp.
“God’s teeth,” Griffin shouted. He rubbed his knuckles and turned, seeking for Kit in the darkness.
“Don’t try that again or I will hit you back,” Kit warned as he retreated to the other side of the table. “As God is my witness, Griffin, if you lay a hand on me I’ll break your arm. Don’t think I won’t do it.”
The doomed Votadini. I'm getting to the exciting bit but am making myself finish the pirates first.
Troop three had a private meeting once the commanders had gone to be feted by their followers, or in Ceredig's case to worry himself sick.
"So, what do we do?" Cynfal asked Cynon. They kept their voices low because, while they were separated from the other troops, the woods were thick and they could be approached unseen. "Hyfaidd surely can't think that we could beat the whole Deira war host? Aethelfrith must be able to call up - oh, a thousand men. Two?"
"More if he's in treaty with Raedwald," Cynon took a sip of beer. "We could be facing three thousand men. Seasoned warriors too. Now, I don't want anyone to think that we aren't here to pull our weight but I signed up to bring you all south to be bloody nuisances for a while, fight a couple of small battles and go home again. I always assume that stuff and nonsense about driving the Saxons back to the sea was rhetoric."
"I think I knew him," Cynfal said with a grin. "Tall, big bushy red beard. Came from Lesser Britain."
They laughed or snorted or threw things as was their humour. When they had quietened Cynon carried on.
"Our concern has to be the followers. The priest, the ladies, the poor little cup bearers. If there is a crisis we form up around them and get them away. Who is most practised in withdrawal?"
Aeddan held up his hand. "I'm oldest," he said. "So I figure that probably means I've run like a hare more often than anyone else." He looked around the group. "It doesn't mean I'm a coward. It just means that sometimes it's more sensible to run like fuck than to stand and be slaughtered. The trick is to know when to do it."
"That's a good point." Cynon grinned. "If you see Aeddan running, boys, follow him, and pray to God he leads you true."
It was a joking discussion but there lay a cold truth at its heart. The old men, and Cynfal counted himself amongst them, were worried. That the command of the army was hopelessly at odds with each other was clear and their followers were losing confidence.
"The very best thing for us would be a proper battle," Aeddan said. "Something fast and dirty that we win, with plenty of loot and not too many wounded."
Cynfal nodded. Deaths were alright, you could celebrate those, but wounded upset everyone. "Burning villages gets boring," he said. "It would be nice to just form up our horses in a nice line and charge. Simple and fierce and soon over."
"Please god we get a chance to do it," Aeddan said. "Oh not again." They all cursed as the rain began again and rolled into their blankets snugging down against the chill.
So murder and mayhem all around. I should be getting on with writing about it but tonight I'm eating cake and cuddling a dog and watching a tv programme about the Crusades. I only hope it doesn't give me a plot bunny.
This week the coughing is less but I am whining to myself about how much I have to do. Still they say being busy is good for you. Totting up the WIPs:
Text for a guidebook to be completed by 6th February [also photos, illustrations, stuff!]
Pirates - I've reached the stage where they are annoying me so I need to finish them quickly.
As Kit had spoken Griffin had put his glass aside, the line of his lips tightening as he listened. Once Kit has finished he jerked his head aft.
“A word in private, if you please, Mr Penrose,” Griffin said, each word clipped with anger.
“With pleasure, Captain Griffin,” Kit said and stood.
Africa offered little enough privacy at the best of times. Tonight, anchored in a dead calm with the whole company mere paces away, the deck offered no possibility of a frank exchange of views. Therefore Kit was not surprised when Griffin stepped past him to take the stairs down to the cabin.
No sooner was the door closed behind them then Griffin’s hands gripped Kit’s shoulders and drove him back against the panels with enough force to make him grunt.
“I told you,” Griffin snarled, “that I did not want you with me. This is between Jago and me. You are – irrelevant. You are not coming.”
That hurt. Kit had suspected that Griffin had only been amusing himself but to hear it said so baldly still shocked him. He clenched his teeth on the pain, placed a hand against Griffin’s chest and pushed him off.
“I am,” Kit said. “Someone needs to be sober.”
It was dark in the cabin, but there was enough light from the window to glimmer on Griffin’s white shirtsleeve as his fist swung towards Kit’s face. Kit dived aside, catching his breath at the crack of knuckles against wood and Griffin’s gasp.
“God’s teeth,” Griffin shouted. He rubbed his knuckles and turned, seeking for Kit in the darkness.
“Don’t try that again or I will hit you back,” Kit warned as he retreated to the other side of the table. “As God is my witness, Griffin, if you lay a hand on me I’ll break your arm. Don’t think I won’t do it.”
The doomed Votadini. I'm getting to the exciting bit but am making myself finish the pirates first.
Troop three had a private meeting once the commanders had gone to be feted by their followers, or in Ceredig's case to worry himself sick.
"So, what do we do?" Cynfal asked Cynon. They kept their voices low because, while they were separated from the other troops, the woods were thick and they could be approached unseen. "Hyfaidd surely can't think that we could beat the whole Deira war host? Aethelfrith must be able to call up - oh, a thousand men. Two?"
"More if he's in treaty with Raedwald," Cynon took a sip of beer. "We could be facing three thousand men. Seasoned warriors too. Now, I don't want anyone to think that we aren't here to pull our weight but I signed up to bring you all south to be bloody nuisances for a while, fight a couple of small battles and go home again. I always assume that stuff and nonsense about driving the Saxons back to the sea was rhetoric."
"I think I knew him," Cynfal said with a grin. "Tall, big bushy red beard. Came from Lesser Britain."
They laughed or snorted or threw things as was their humour. When they had quietened Cynon carried on.
"Our concern has to be the followers. The priest, the ladies, the poor little cup bearers. If there is a crisis we form up around them and get them away. Who is most practised in withdrawal?"
Aeddan held up his hand. "I'm oldest," he said. "So I figure that probably means I've run like a hare more often than anyone else." He looked around the group. "It doesn't mean I'm a coward. It just means that sometimes it's more sensible to run like fuck than to stand and be slaughtered. The trick is to know when to do it."
"That's a good point." Cynon grinned. "If you see Aeddan running, boys, follow him, and pray to God he leads you true."
It was a joking discussion but there lay a cold truth at its heart. The old men, and Cynfal counted himself amongst them, were worried. That the command of the army was hopelessly at odds with each other was clear and their followers were losing confidence.
"The very best thing for us would be a proper battle," Aeddan said. "Something fast and dirty that we win, with plenty of loot and not too many wounded."
Cynfal nodded. Deaths were alright, you could celebrate those, but wounded upset everyone. "Burning villages gets boring," he said. "It would be nice to just form up our horses in a nice line and charge. Simple and fierce and soon over."
"Please god we get a chance to do it," Aeddan said. "Oh not again." They all cursed as the rain began again and rolled into their blankets snugging down against the chill.
So murder and mayhem all around. I should be getting on with writing about it but tonight I'm eating cake and cuddling a dog and watching a tv programme about the Crusades. I only hope it doesn't give me a plot bunny.
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no subject
Date: 2012-01-19 09:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-19 11:57 am (UTC)Get well soon *hugs*
no subject
Date: 2012-01-19 12:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-19 12:45 pm (UTC)I hope that your immediate future contains a warm blanket, tea and affection and a clear enough head to plan your next story.
no subject
Date: 2012-01-19 12:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-19 12:55 pm (UTC)Oh crikey that reminds me :D I remember being interviewed for a job immediately after a hospital appointment. I was 'exceedingly cheerful' on pheno-barbitone. It can't have helped that I had huge globs of bright blue glue all over my forehead and hair from the EEG. *faceplam* one of the less glowing memories of my youth.