In The Kink of Every Vein

I will hold your hand, love
As long as I can, love
Though the powers rise against us
Though your fears assail you
And your body may fail you
There's a fire that burns within us
andrew peterson, "carry the fire"

I said I would do another snippets post when I reached 100,000 words; I'm not quite there yet: I'm at roughly 92,000 words.  That number will have changed by the time you read this.  I've noticed that, unlike Mirriam, who can write good stories and make her stories action-packed and snappy, I take longer to unpack my plots.  Whether or not I can hold your attention remains to be seen...  I confessed to Joy that I do have another post in the making, one to be tacked on after "A Common Provenance In Pain," but that I have been busy - busy with writing Gingerune, busy dividing up Plenilune into chapters and coming up with good titles for those chapters, kicking idly at the opening scene of Adamantine which needs to be born again or else it will never see the kingdom of heaven...  Is now a bad time to bombshell that I'm also gearing up to spend this coming autumn semester in Scotland?

"these wretched eminent things"

Why doesn’t he look like a monster? He always looked like one to me. He looks—I could have broken his skull. I could have killed him. Why didn’t I kill him?”
gingerune

Mazelin smiled encouragingly. “Eating: the answer to all the heart’s problems. Ah, how I’ve missed Thera…”
gingerune

She turned over her hand and saw the lines defined by the charcoal. Some people claimed to read fates in the lines that crisscrossed a person’s palm: if that were possible, her fate looked like a spider’s web. 
gingerune

The bench was cold, the night air was chilly, but a fierce and shining glory was burning at the kink of every vein in Ginger for she was acutely glad for Roxane’s company, for birth and life and warm fellowship: not even Philon could sour that. 
gingerune

Faces came back to her out of the unwelcome sense of loneliness and fate: Melitta’s, Philon’s, haughty Anehawk's, immobile Akmennades’—the bull’s. It seemed everywhere she turned save in this hollow of earth that was like a grave were faces that despised her, mocked her, counted her as nothing. If she crawled down off her bench and leaned out over the pool—and if the light were good enough—she would see yet another face which looked back at her with quiet, desperate loathing. I roar in defiance and strive to be great, yet I will never conquer my blood. O Elohim—impulsively she flung an arm over her eyes to shut out the sight of the dark—what am I, and what wretched thing is man?
gingerune

Their eyes met, warning and instantly serious where before Ginger thought they had been sharing a violent kind of joke. In the dark, colourless ring of Mazelin’s eye she saw the predetermined, cold-blooded desire to kill.
gingerune

Between the broken pillars that marked the beginning of the lane Ginger looked up and around, dumbstruck: the massive structure lifted itself like a man hefting himself out of a pool, its great shoulders rising over the edge of the cliff, its shattered walls and leaning, roofless pillars gleaming in the hot, unadulterated Middle Sea sun. Everything was built on a huge scale. The doorways—what were left of them—rose like gateways to the sky. Stairways would have been uncomfortable to climb for people of an average height. The weight of a single vertebrae of one of the columns took Ginger’s breath away to estimate. 
gingerune

The Argolime,” whispered Roxane—it was the time and place to whisper. “It fits it better for a name: like a wreath of laurel.”
gingerune

The blacksmith watched dispassionately, his bottom lip a little thrust out in the expression of a man who is longsuffering, but would rather be elsewhere.
gingerune

In the space of quiet Akmennades seemed to have found his temper again. With his voice muffled a little by the crook of his elbow, he remarked, “The light-well catches sound admirably. I have been listening to your talk below. I have learned two things: that the man Mazelin grows almost careless when he is excited, and that, when she is not angry, the girl has a very pleasant voice. It is like yours,” he added, lifting his head a little as a bird soared upward on a bank of wind, “but nicer.”
gingerune

Beneath the ugliness of it all there was a beautiful irony in that, but she still hated that he had betrayed them again, lied to them all, and dumped them all back into Anehawk’s palm like so many pieces of silver. Well, his debt was paid. She hoped he liked his reward.
gingerune

She could not help swallowing: he had one of his thumbs under her jaw and had pressed just when he said ‘swallow,’ and the horrid liquid went down against her will. It burned on the way down. Like a horse caught in the mire her mind kept lunging, catching, falling backward, white-eyed with terror. 
gingerune

A house in town,” [he said], tearing up the loaf of bread. “A respectable business, neighbours shuffling in and out without scraping their sandals on the threshold. Something to look forward to.” 
gingerune

He moved and, in moving, moved other things, built them up or tore them down, never lying still. It would be an all or nothing matter for him, she realized: either he must grasp the rudder of Thera and put his shoulder to her, or he must fade into obscurity. He could never survive being mediocre. 
gingerune

"We come from fighting stock. We may be the last of an old breed, but that is what makes us so damn beautiful." 
gingerune

"Yet you are stubborn,” he concluded, biting off the words with a sudden anger which baffled Ginger. “You might have been great, yet you are only pathetic: a tiny, fragile thing bloated with pride, a thing born of sweat and screams. I have given you great grace and you have only resisted me. You are but a man. If you will turn in my hand like an unbalanced tool, what shall I do with you? You are worth a woman’s blood to me.” 
gingerune

On a little marble table close beside the door she spotted a little masculine figurine done to perfection in obsidian, an arm uplifted, first two fingers spread in triumph. It seemed as if it should be familiar, but she could not place it. 
gingerune

I see that, like your mother,” he said lightly, “you do not have the knack of respect. That, too, I will teach you." 
gingerune

With a feeling of sickened ecstasy she felt her body whirling and breaking free. Her foot hurt but she made herself put her weight on it, bounding, hands coming down to meet the floor. And then for a second she was a catapulting, weaponized thing before she crashed headlong into Mazelin’s rough and ready embrace. 
gingerune

You poked the bees’ nest and you have no idea what to do about it.”
gingerune

6 ripostes:

  1. Some snippets made me curious, some my blood run cold, but the one I liked was "Mazelin smiled encouragingly. “Eating: the answer to all the heart’s problems. Ah, how I’ve missed Thera…”

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  2. Scotland! Oh I am jealous! Beautiful Snippets Jenny, Ginger seems a heroine to be reckoned with.

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  3. Ah; you do me too much credit. But thank you. ^.^ And these are GORGEOUS. Your prose, as always, is absolute nectar.

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  4. Before I even get into my enjoyment of your snippets (perhaps appreciation is a better word, considering the nature of the things and likewise their tendancy to stomp on my heart) - Scotland?! Really, truly? You must promise us you'll share some photos, as I've always had quite a fascination for the place. <3

    I write by the principal that one must start with something intriguing and end with something sharp. You certainly did so with these snippets, Jenny! Your book end ones were enough to blow all the marvelous others quite out of the water. ^_^

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  5. Oh dear. I think I will end up liking Akmennades as a villain! He's so helpless but so....bitter...and scheming. and pouting. And generally a complex thing that will keep me guessing when I finally get to read it.

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  6. As slow as I am with this whole commenting business (did I tell you how my laptop has been hijacked by my dear sister for her uni purposes? I presume I may have told but also I may have not, since I have told just about every living soul online of my interesting situation and the telling of it and who I was telling it to got all muddled in my funny little brain), so naturally I am almost glad that you have been a bit off blogging (what a horrid thing to say, I know!) because even if you had posted, I would have been unable to read or comment and I'd feel the more miserable for it. Anyways, what a joy to have you back and to read this!!!

    I cannot say just how much I delighted in these many beautiful snippets of your new novel, Jenny ^_^. In all seriousness, these were so so good. What colour, what life, and what truthful/biting poignancy you've weaved into these words and characters - it left me really breathless (like your writing oft' does) by their power and heart-wrenching loveliness. There are so many good ones, I honestly can't choose a favourite. I can just say that I am very hooked and captivated, and cannot wait for the finished work! Keep up the wonderful writing, Penslaying Girl, and keep writing for the 'Zeal of His House'!

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