I am Juliette snippets — in honor of Valentine’s Day

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My current WIP I am Juliette (draft four) is strong on the love story front. Which makes me laugh actually because I always told myself that any book I wrote would have only romantic side plots — and then I go and write a tragic re-telling of Beauty and the Beast. 

I feel like there should be a moral to this.

That said, the couple in IAJ are near and dear to my heart. The Prisoner is trapped in a containment tube on a space-ship all by his lonesome until the ship’s quirky robotic owl Custodians decide to teleport someone to keep him company. Cue Juliette, all spunk and curiosity and sweetness wrapped up in a red dress.

And much feels and adorableness ensue.

IAJromanticsnippetspost

// their interactions when they meet are my favorite ever.

“Did you just call me a nightmare?” I interrupted, lifting my eyebrows.

“Shut up, I’m thinking.” He frowned, his eyes still closed. “I’ve never asked a hallucination if it’s real or not before… so… maybe this is real.

“You mean like how you’re supposed to pinch yourself to know if you’re dreaming or not and you never think to in dreams, but you do in actual, waking life?”

“Exactly.”

“Well, I can answer that.” I pinched my wrist. “See? Not dreaming. Which means we’re both real.”

There was a silence, in which I counted eight seconds, then the man’s eyes opened and he looked straight at me.

“Hello,” I said, offering him my friendliest smile and a half wave. He didn’t answer, just looked me up and down, his eyes wide. They were brown like mine, but much lighter—almost hazel.

“Now who’s staring?” I teased.

// the dynamics between them are so much fun to write.

I gave up trying to win our stare-down and rubbed my eyes.

“Well, it was still nice of him,” I said, my voice muffled. “And I’d still like to thank him and yes, I know I can thank him later.” I hated how petulant my words sounded. “And yes, I probably should thank you too.”

“You’re very odd,” said the Prisoner thoughtfully.

I huffed a laugh.

“You’re not exactly ordinary yourself.”

// the Prisoner’s matter-of-fact way of looking out for Juliette makes me squee. 

“She appears whole to me,” the Owl chirped. My mouth twitched and I glanced over at the Prisoner who gave POND a look that should have melted him on the spot. The Owl merely shifted his grasp on my finger. His talons were cold and pointy and I felt his body vibrating from internal mechanisms — like the thrum of a living creature.

“Trust the human,” said the Prisoner. “Her hands are scratched. Make yourself useful and do something about it.”

// you fluffy, cute babies

“Red,” he finished.

“—scarlet,” I said simultaneously.

“Same difference.”

“Not quite.”

“Well, it’s not grey. And when you’ve been trapped in a place where everything is grey or black—”

“—or blue,” I interjected. “Ugh, sounds like a bruise.”

“No, not a bruise. Bruises are dark purple, and then they turn orange.”

I wrinkled my nose. “And now that we’ve established that.”

“You’re such a girl.”

// and did I mention the emotional pain? And just feels in general?

“You’re not real,” he whispered. “You can’t be real.”

I gulped back tears.

“I am real. I’m here with you.”

“No.” His frantic pulse echoed in my head. “You’re just another nightmare come to torment me.”

“I’m not. “My voice quivered. “I’m Juliette. Your friend.”

“I don’t have friends.”

//

Love is odd though.

It changes your perception of someone until you’re seeing, not just their face, but their personality. A sheet of paper with everything you love about them written all over it. And they are beautiful.

To me the Prisoner is like home and a wild storm and the sound of wind and the warmth of the sun all at once.

//

“I think… if I could trust anyone,” he opened his eyes and looked straight at me, “it would be you.”

//

Tears leaked from the corner of my eyes. The Prisoner watched me, the fingers of one hand tracing a pattern against the metal underneath it.

“Now, that we have that settled…” I swept strands of dark hair away from my face, adjusted my ring, and leaned my elbows on the tube’s edge.

“We’re supposed to be keeping you calm, and that—” I pointed back and forth between the two of us, “that wasn’t remotely the definition of calm.”

The Prisoner gave me a look.

“We’re human and we’re attracted to each other—not to mention, trapped together indefinitely. Calm is not our forte.”

//

I know what it is to live.

He only knows what it is to exist.

“I want him to be happy,” I whispered into the still air.

Then as his voice repeated those same words to me in my mind, I curled up on the cold glass and sobbed.

//

My broken, beautiful monster.

(now excuse me while I go and howl over my precious, battered babies. we writers are cruel. o.o)

 

 

Of owls and the color red // Snazzy Snippets

 

Once again I am joining in late with Snazzy Snippets. Better late than never, I say. 

I’ll be sharing snippets from both I am Juliette and Blood Thread today. The former is my current WIP (edits, woe is me) and the latter is one of my favorite stories that I have ever put down on paper. *hugs characters to Self*

Anyone up for a dash of steampunk and stardust?

 

1. A snippet from page 16 | I am Juliette

“The scanner requires a blood sample,” said POND. He whisked over to a low pedestal next to the hand scanner. There was a round hollow on the top of it and the Owl lowered himself in halfway. He fit perfectly. I licked the tiny bead of blood off my palm, wondering what other devices on the ship were designed specifically for the PONDs.

The Owl’s eyes brightened to an intense green.

“The DNA scan is successfully completed. You are fully human,” he squeaked.

2. A snippet of 16 words or fewer | Blood Thread

 His dreams continued to run red.

Then black. 

3. A snippet about something new | Blood Thread

The tiny canary fluttered her wings and hopped up and down.

“She’s here,” she gasped.

“Who’s where?” said Tarquin, flicking a glossy, black ear forward. He wished Prism would curb her tendency to bounce about like a rubber ball when she was distressed.

The bird pounced at him.

“Pay attention, Tarquin. A raven has been spotted.”

A raven.

The cat was suddenly grateful for the warm chimney behind his back.

“Where was it seen?” he asked, flattening his ears. Prism pointed a wing in the direction of Turkania’s merchant harbors.

“It was flying around the ships for hours before it vanished into the smog.”

“Not being subtle, is she?”

~~~~~~~~~~

In other news, I’m going to a book sale today (EEEP) and I may buy a scandalous amount of Once-Were-Trees. My edits of I am Juliette draft four begin properly in February and I am torn between dreading it and getting all excited and flail-y. I miss my characters from Blood Thread in the worst way. Reading has been at an unusual low for me because I’ve been so busy this past month — I do not like this state of affairs. It makes me panicky. Thank goodness for beta-reading projects and Wodehouse short stories! Also, I recently watched the newest Mission Impossible and currently it’s my favorite of all the action films. *loves it with all the love* 

What have you all been up to? And didst thou enjoy the snippetses? Any new favorite books this month?

Snazzy Snippets | Blood Thread

I first learned about Snazzy Snippets from my  fantastic friend, Aimee. (check out her awesome blog, minions of mine.)

As the image so concisely sums up, it’s a bimonthly link-up hosted by Alyssa and Emily. They provided prompts which I think is smashing.

I’ll be sharing snippets from Blood Thread which I first mentioned here, and you can find out more about it on my newly updated Books page.

–> your first paragraph or 500 words <–

“I hate thread.”
The cat spat out the words like they tasted of sour milk. His whiskers bristled.

–> a snippet with food <–

He heard a cough behind him and turned to see Finnigan — still in mortal form.

“Would you like some food?” he said to Tarquin.

The cat blinked.

“Food?” he repeated, wondering if he’d heard the fae correctly.

Finnigan nodded.

“Like honey cakes,” he said. “Or sausages. Or muffins. Or hot milk. That sort of food. You could keep me company,” he finished, his voice hopeful.

–> a snippet you’re really proud of <–

(because I have issues containing my excitement, I shall share more than one.)

At two years old Imo took to following Tarquin around like she was his kitten.

“I can’t go anywhere anymore,” he complained to Prism, one day when he escaped to the tower roof. “She trails about behind me like she’s attached by a string.”
“Perhaps she can’t resist your magnetic charm?” suggested Prism.

~~~~~~~~

“Who said anything about love, m’dear?” the cat purred.

“Do you want my advice?” asked Prism, fluttering to his side.
“No, thank you,” said Tarquin, and poised to leap off the roof.
“Figure out who Imo prefers and groom him accordingly.”
Tarquin permitted himself a chuckle this time.
“I’ll remember that.” He jumped down onto the barrel.
“You should,” Prism called after him.
The cat trotted away without answering.
Daft bird.

~~~~~~~~

Imo was jailed for a week for kicking a gentleman because he knocked her into the noisy, chaotic street. Tarquin found the man’s house, and wedged a dead mouse into each of the stove pipes. He also left one inside the man’s bedroom slippers.

~~~~~~~~

He would track the faerie down.

Scratch her beautiful face.

Drop her from a tower.

See how she liked it.

~~~~~~~~

Sweet Ring of Sauron, this book is so much fun to write. ANOTHER. *cough*