However, since I've been ridiculously productive these last couple of days (largely due to my not sleeping) I decided to let myself take twenty minutes to type out the beginning of the scene that I flashed on. There's no telling whether it will end up being stitched together with other snippets, tossed in my recycling bin, or as the beginning of the smashing book series I'm going to write in all my spare time :P but here it is!
“You’ve had your share and everyone else’s tonight. I’m not pouring you another drop!”
The quaver in Luci’s voice was all that betrayed the confidence of her stance, but she cursed herself for it. Even drunk the man would see through her bravado and there was only so much protection that the rickety wooden bar top could provide.
Caris was a small town. The men were simple folk. They were the sons of farmers, hunters, and fishermen and their sons would be much the same. They didn’t drink to get drunk. They drank to gossip, although none of them would ever admit it. The few times one of them did get drunk, he had friends enough to see him out without causing any trouble. Travellers were few and unwelcome enough they didn’t linger, meaning Luci was safe behind the bar. Until this one.
The man came to town two and a half years ago. No one was sure from where, but he’d taken up residence in an abandoned watchtower on the north side of town. It hadn’t belonged to anyone and hadn’t been used for at least a hundred years, so no one had objected. However, he wasn’t like the men of Caris. He was stern and reclusive. He appeared once a day here at Gareth’s tavern, sat on the same stool, and talked to no one until he deemed himself drunk enough to leave. As far as anyone knew, he didn’t work, he had no trade, but he always had coin enough to pay his bills.
The steel belted at his waist kept anyone from asking questions and Luci couldn’t keep her eyes from trailing down to his hip where it was fastened as he sat defiantly, showing no intention of leaving.
“I said, leave,” Luci repeated, his silence swallowing her courage. “You’ve had enough.”
Luci took his glass off the counter and a hand shot out from the depths of his cloak, latching onto her arm so viciously she dropped the glass. Her heart thumped uncomfortably in her throat as the man looked up at her from under a long ebon fringe, his red-rimmed eyes accusing.
“I wasn’t finished with that,” he snarled.
Luci tried to pull her arm free but his fingers dug into the tender flesh of her forearm until his nails pierced her skin. She wanted desperately to look for help, but couldn’t look away from his eyes. He was drunk and she knew it. He knew it too. But his eyes held a disturbing clarity as he continued to glare at her.
“Rais!”And there I shall leave you.
I can tell you that Rais gets kicked out of the bar, passes out drunk on the way home, and kidnapped by apparent thugs (who aren't so thugly lol). Any more than that I've yet to discover, which is really one of my favorite parts about being a writer. Often times writing a story is as much of a journey of unexpected discoveries as reading one. You never know what you'll find or who you'll meet, inside a writer's mind.
(See my clever play on the blog title there ;)