WIP 7x7x7 (MFU Fanfiction: Third)
Gacked from azdak who gacked it from from sallymn -
1. Go to page 7 (or 77) of your current WIP.
2. Go to line 7
3. Copy down the next 7 lines - sentences or paragraphs - and post them as they’re written.
This is part of the backstory to Third,
a bit further on than the scenes posted during the November picowrimo.
Naturally, I went for the seven paragraph option. That left two paragraphs in the scene (one of which involves a dark and stormy night, so proceed at your own risk) which I put in, too, a little further down. (Not exactly following the rules there, I know, but at least it's only about 400 words.)
Rehearsing
A metallic clatter broke Pavel’s concentration, pulled his eyes away from the script he and Oxana were rehearsing towards the source of the sound. “Buffoon,” he muttered, watching Sarkis right a music stand. Most of the actors who weren't on stage were in the orchestra pit with him and Kyrill. "I'm beginning to regret that I introduced Kyrill to this activity," Pavel said. His eyes followed Kyrill’s progress among the actors, noted the encouraging touches and smiles.
Oxana checked the expression on Pavel's face before she glanced at the scene in the orchestra pit. Antonin’s bow was poised above his violin.
"I thought the short, blond one was going to be the problem," Pavel continued. He craned his neck to have a better view of the back of the stage. Pavel’s words drew Oxana’s attention back to him. "But with him cast in the other play now, he's irrelevant.” Pavel paused, his eyes focused again on the pit. “This one, though," he gestured with his chin towards Kyrill, "is another matter.” Pavel’s brow lowered. “I should have wished that he died last summer, not Illya."
"I can still hear the cries for help, see the rocks, the sea," she murmured. Oxana pulled her cardigan tighter. "Is that how Alexi died?"
"How should I know? That information isn’t shared." Pavel snapped. "He was a navy cadet. I assumed he drowned during training.”
“Sometimes, you know anyway," Oxana said.
"Mmm. The image of Illya smashed against the rocks was very real." The faint smile on Pavel’s lips changed the sound of his voice.
"When we were walking outside the pool..." Oxana began. She clasped her arms around herself. "Your words are so vivid sometimes, Pavel. Like you're drawing pictures in the air."
Pavel caught Oxana’s eye. He moved his hand under the arm rest and curved it around her hips. "Imagine it again," he said. "A wild storm,” he continued, his voice low. “With waves this high.” Pavel raised his other arm well above his head. Oxana’s eyes flickered to it then back to Pavel’s face, down to his lips. “The wind roars and the lightning splits the night sky. Can you see it?” Pavel asked. Oxana nodded and lifted her gaze to Pavel’s. “Only this time it’s Kyrill who gets swept overboard during the storm.” Oxana nodded again.
************
1. Go to page 7 (or 77) of your current WIP.
2. Go to line 7
3. Copy down the next 7 lines - sentences or paragraphs - and post them as they’re written.
This is part of the backstory to Third,
a bit further on than the scenes posted during the November picowrimo.
Naturally, I went for the seven paragraph option. That left two paragraphs in the scene (one of which involves a dark and stormy night, so proceed at your own risk) which I put in, too, a little further down. (Not exactly following the rules there, I know, but at least it's only about 400 words.)
Rehearsing
A metallic clatter broke Pavel’s concentration, pulled his eyes away from the script he and Oxana were rehearsing towards the source of the sound. “Buffoon,” he muttered, watching Sarkis right a music stand. Most of the actors who weren't on stage were in the orchestra pit with him and Kyrill. "I'm beginning to regret that I introduced Kyrill to this activity," Pavel said. His eyes followed Kyrill’s progress among the actors, noted the encouraging touches and smiles.
Oxana checked the expression on Pavel's face before she glanced at the scene in the orchestra pit. Antonin’s bow was poised above his violin.
"I thought the short, blond one was going to be the problem," Pavel continued. He craned his neck to have a better view of the back of the stage. Pavel’s words drew Oxana’s attention back to him. "But with him cast in the other play now, he's irrelevant.” Pavel paused, his eyes focused again on the pit. “This one, though," he gestured with his chin towards Kyrill, "is another matter.” Pavel’s brow lowered. “I should have wished that he died last summer, not Illya."
"I can still hear the cries for help, see the rocks, the sea," she murmured. Oxana pulled her cardigan tighter. "Is that how Alexi died?"
"How should I know? That information isn’t shared." Pavel snapped. "He was a navy cadet. I assumed he drowned during training.”
“Sometimes, you know anyway," Oxana said.
"Mmm. The image of Illya smashed against the rocks was very real." The faint smile on Pavel’s lips changed the sound of his voice.
"When we were walking outside the pool..." Oxana began. She clasped her arms around herself. "Your words are so vivid sometimes, Pavel. Like you're drawing pictures in the air."
Pavel caught Oxana’s eye. He moved his hand under the arm rest and curved it around her hips. "Imagine it again," he said. "A wild storm,” he continued, his voice low. “With waves this high.” Pavel raised his other arm well above his head. Oxana’s eyes flickered to it then back to Pavel’s face, down to his lips. “The wind roars and the lightning splits the night sky. Can you see it?” Pavel asked. Oxana nodded and lifted her gaze to Pavel’s. “Only this time it’s Kyrill who gets swept overboard during the storm.” Oxana nodded again.
************