for "mini_nanowrimo" hence no friends lock 3
this is all jason's fault. :P here i was happy working away on my prompt table when he tells me he actually likes my holly novel. the nerve. so i tell him i kind of like it too but i am most content with my prompt table
and then this comes out.
oh and for the record, yes, i am retconning the novel as i write it. amazing.
History and time would muddle the details of the first seeds to the idea being planted. History and time would make it into mythology.
Myth would make Him immortal. Myth would make Him dominate the fragile woman-child. Myth would make him careless, rough and tortured to His very bones. Myth would mistake the truth for love at first sight.
The truth was and is uninteresting and, in the end, honestly too hard for Him to speak of. He left them (the band, the media, the fan base, Rory . . . ) To imagine the very worst. Cole filtered everything, shielding Him, Stilted's frail image, the best way he knew how.
The truth was, Holly started the whole thing. The real truth was that she had no idea that she had done so.
Holly approached Him, after the first full band meeting for the introduction of the new website and Holly at its wheel, while His head was swimming with technical jargon, states and price tags. Holly crept up to Him.
"Are you all right?" it was a simple enough question. But . . . but it had been a long time since He had gained any sympathy from His band mates, who were itching to get back to work already. (And how long since the tour had ended? Six months? Eight?) A gesture of natural kindness warmed Him to her instantly.
"Yes. No. . . . no, not really. But thanks for asking." A truthful reply.
It was the next moment that started everything. In the next breath that got Him to thinking. Blue eyes blinked softly, there was a head tilt, and then delicate fingers resting carefully on His forearm.
"Do you. . .would you like me to stay?"
i seriously love getting back into the groove of writing, even when i whine about it. this is forcing me to write when i know i don't actually have the time to sit and stop to write. this is insane but i am happy!
and then this comes out.
oh and for the record, yes, i am retconning the novel as i write it. amazing.
History and time would muddle the details of the first seeds to the idea being planted. History and time would make it into mythology.
Myth would make Him immortal. Myth would make Him dominate the fragile woman-child. Myth would make him careless, rough and tortured to His very bones. Myth would mistake the truth for love at first sight.
The truth was and is uninteresting and, in the end, honestly too hard for Him to speak of. He left them (the band, the media, the fan base, Rory . . . ) To imagine the very worst. Cole filtered everything, shielding Him, Stilted's frail image, the best way he knew how.
The truth was, Holly started the whole thing. The real truth was that she had no idea that she had done so.
Holly approached Him, after the first full band meeting for the introduction of the new website and Holly at its wheel, while His head was swimming with technical jargon, states and price tags. Holly crept up to Him.
"Are you all right?" it was a simple enough question. But . . . but it had been a long time since He had gained any sympathy from His band mates, who were itching to get back to work already. (And how long since the tour had ended? Six months? Eight?) A gesture of natural kindness warmed Him to her instantly.
"Yes. No. . . . no, not really. But thanks for asking." A truthful reply.
It was the next moment that started everything. In the next breath that got Him to thinking. Blue eyes blinked softly, there was a head tilt, and then delicate fingers resting carefully on His forearm.
"Do you. . .would you like me to stay?"
i seriously love getting back into the groove of writing, even when i whine about it. this is forcing me to write when i know i don't actually have the time to sit and stop to write. this is insane but i am happy!