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Mar. 27th, 2012 12:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cblj_backupTAGGED BY A ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cluegirl!
1. Go to page 77 (or 7) of your current ms. (I chose Tunnel over Dead Isle because it's newer.)
2. Go to line 7
3. Copy down the next 7 lines – sentences or paragraphs – and post them as they’re written.
4. Tag 7 other authors. I never like to oblige people to do stuff, so uh: hi Cafe, consider yourself tagged!
Admittedly my newest project isn't in Word yet so I just hit page-down seven times and counted from the top. This is one of the few actually-written scenes I have for Tunnel, but I'm pretty sure you are getting the Most Awesome scene of the whole thing to date:
***
I had bought myself a pity pizza from a nearby diner-pub, and all I wanted was to go home and feel sorry for myself. The closest train stop was Jackson Street, but I had to get to the blue line (how I hated the blue line) and so I went in at the red line stop and took the tunnel that connects it to the blue at Jackson.
Nobody else was in the tunnel that late at night, and I was looking out more for muggers than for dragons, I will admit. But halfway down the tunnel I looked up and there was Dover.
He's always been a very sad dragon.
I stopped and stared at him, lying curled up in the tunnel, filling it and blocking my way. Our eyes met; he yawned, and I could see those huge sharp teeth gleam in the yellow light in the tunnel. Then he dropped his head again and just stared at me, despondently.
So I did the only thing I really could do, you know?
"I know how you feel, buddy," I said, and sat down next to his head, back to the wall. "You want some pizza?"
We shared a deep-dish pepperoni and sausage pizza and I told him all about my shitty day. I named him Dover, because it's a nice name.
cluegirl!1. Go to page 77 (or 7) of your current ms. (I chose Tunnel over Dead Isle because it's newer.)
2. Go to line 7
3. Copy down the next 7 lines – sentences or paragraphs – and post them as they’re written.
4. Tag 7 other authors. I never like to oblige people to do stuff, so uh: hi Cafe, consider yourself tagged!
Admittedly my newest project isn't in Word yet so I just hit page-down seven times and counted from the top. This is one of the few actually-written scenes I have for Tunnel, but I'm pretty sure you are getting the Most Awesome scene of the whole thing to date:
***
I had bought myself a pity pizza from a nearby diner-pub, and all I wanted was to go home and feel sorry for myself. The closest train stop was Jackson Street, but I had to get to the blue line (how I hated the blue line) and so I went in at the red line stop and took the tunnel that connects it to the blue at Jackson.
Nobody else was in the tunnel that late at night, and I was looking out more for muggers than for dragons, I will admit. But halfway down the tunnel I looked up and there was Dover.
He's always been a very sad dragon.
I stopped and stared at him, lying curled up in the tunnel, filling it and blocking my way. Our eyes met; he yawned, and I could see those huge sharp teeth gleam in the yellow light in the tunnel. Then he dropped his head again and just stared at me, despondently.
So I did the only thing I really could do, you know?
"I know how you feel, buddy," I said, and sat down next to his head, back to the wall. "You want some pizza?"
We shared a deep-dish pepperoni and sausage pizza and I told him all about my shitty day. I named him Dover, because it's a nice name.
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no subject
Date: 2012-03-27 09:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-28 10:39 am (UTC)Totally not from any 7 page or anything, but a dragon back at you:
“Well, you’re here now,” he said, and then looked over his spectacles at the dragon. “And who is this? You didn’t mention a familiar.”
“It’s not—“ she said. “The bus hit its mother, and it sort of…liked me.”
“Hello little one,” said Ariel, reaching out a finger to scratch the little dragon under the chin. “Hello there. You’ve chosen your sorcerer, have you?”
“No, no, I’m not…” said Bess, as the dragon purred, and she got a horrible, fatalistic feeling that she was going to be a mouthbreather with a dragon. “…keeping it.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, of course you are,” said Ariel. “Do you know what an honour it is to have a dragon imprint on you?”
She’d met a few guys with dragons. They were usually called Brian or Kevin by their parents, but called themselves things like Titus or Magnus at parties, and wore ceremonial robes even when they were out shopping. No way. No way.
“I…have an idea,” she said, and he beamed at her.
“Excellent; you’ll have to name her if you haven’t already. We’re going to be busy, you and I, and a dragon familiar is a good omen; a good omen indeed. There’s a book over there with all the different scale patterns in it; you can look up her elemental correspondences, if you like.”
“I thought she might be air,” said Bess. “She’s certainly eager to fly.”
“Not for another few months,” said Ariel. “She’ll rip her wings if she tries it too soon.”
“Well, you tell her that,” said Bess. “I’m not sure she understands me.”
“Oh, that’ll come. They’re very intelligent, dragons.”
“The one that got run over wasn’t,” said Bess, and the Professor frowned, picking up a glass vial of something greenish-brown.
no subject
Date: 2012-03-28 12:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-04-09 05:25 am (UTC)