On straight word count alone, it wasn’t a very productive day. However, I did take all the sections I’ve completed so far and roughly placed them in order into a “first draft” file. (I write in individual files, either short 4-6 page sections or full chapter, depending on what I feel like.) I didn’t edit or read through everything, but I feel a little better now that I have the sections in a semblance of order and can see the pages stacking up quite nicely.
I also jotted about 5 pages of handwritten notes about the next Dream sequence with the Black Dragon. On paper, I got some good ideas. However, the words were like pulling teeth tonight. I think once I get a bit further into this section, I’ll find the right flow and be able to come back and smooth this. I want lots of dialogue and inuendo, playing hatred and attraction off each other like a tennis match. I’ll take it for now, though, and be thankful for the notes!
Snippet: Shannari is dreaming as the White Dragon again and decides to spy on him like Dharman spied on her. What she finds is an impressive Keldari army on her border.
“What are you doing here? How did you find me?”
She crouched, tail lashing. She’d been thinking too hard about rending enemies limb from limb to hear him approach. Cocking her head, she studied this new form in which he appeared.
He’d come as a man instead of the Black Dragon, a desert savage swathed all in heavy black cloth. Shadows hung about him, obscuring his face, but she knew him. His eyes were the same molten silver and his scent, oh, yes, this was the exotic spice she recognized.
Now that she knew his blood smelled as good, it was all she could do not to leap on him and bury her muzzle in his abdomen.
Before she succumbed to temptation, she shed the dragon form. Calm and regal, she smoothed her face and drew herself up proudly. “How else does a dragon hunt its victim? I can smell you from Shanhasson.”
His cloaking shadows wavered enough to betray a slight paling about his mouth and tightness about his eyes. “Indeed. And what, exactly, do I smell like?”
“Sand.” His eyes flickered with surprise, which made her smile. “Dragon. Fire.”
He spread out his black cloak on the sands and sat with his legs crossed, gesturing for her to sit across from him. “Now I know you’re telling me untruths, brightheart. This dragon never breathed Fire.”
Intently, he watched her, the shadows drawing tighter about him like wings tucked tight to his body for protection. Protection from what? He wasn’t even meeting her gaze. She glanced down and the miserable sun of this place exploded in her face.
She was nude.
Growling, she crossed her arms, closed her eyes, and wished very hard for clothes. A full suit of armor slammed into place, cold and hard around her body.
His low, smug laughter only infuriated her even more. Changing into the long, prim cotton nightgown she’d worn for so long to discourage her Blood, she lifted her chin and sat across from him.
“What?” He chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s your dream, brightheart. You chose to come to me in your skin.”
“I didn’t think about what I was wearing–or the lack thereof–in the waking world,” she said stiffly.
“Ah,” he leaned back to one side, supporting his weight on his elbow. “I see that your young Red took my advice.”
Lady above, she hated the wicked gleam in his eye, that smug little curl to his lips. Of course that was why she couldn’t stop thinking about drawing that full lip between her teeth.