WIPpet Wednesday - Troy Hello, Everyone. How’s November treating you so far? Word counts and mustaches coming along nicely? My word count is not fantastic, which isn’t a surprise, since my attention is divided between writing and editing this month. My mustache, on the other hand, is glorious. Luxuriant, bushy… Why, I’ve had several compliments on it already, and it hasn’t even been two weeks since I started growing it.

As most of you know, Arvid is on the shelf hibernating while she waits her turn to be edited. In the meantime, I’ve pulled out a former Nanowrimo project that turned into a sandbox. The world-building for this project is tremendous, so  tackling it in nice, little, WIPpet-sized chunks will be helpful, I think. Many thanks to K.L. Schwengel for hosting so I can keep moving forward without being overwhelmed. Those of you who’ve been around a while may recognize this scene, but I decided to start at the beginning, anyway.

There are probably, maybe, possibly going to be 3 POV’s for this book: the good guy, the bad guy, and the ugly gal. I’m not going to tell you who you’re meeting first, but I will tell you, since I don’t get to it in this snippet, this character is blue. 12 paragraphs for the twelfth. I’m not counting the paragraph that’s only 4 words.

          Troy pressed his gills shut against the urge to open them and pulled the weighted paddles on his arms and tail against his body in a tight crunch before throwing them wide. The deep green-blue haze of the sea lightened with the morning as he repeated the exercise and moved through a series of motions intended to strengthen every muscle in his body, from trapezoid to fluke.

He put off the aerobic portion of his workout until his muscles threatened to quit on him. Fatigued, sore muscles he could handle, enjoy even, knowing the uncomfortable sensations grew his strength and endurance. Using his air lungs, on the other hand… He took several quick, deep inhales through his gills to prepare himself for the burst to the surface. He raised his arms above his head, and let out a mighty growl of action.

“You must be Troy.”

“Huh?” Troy paused mid-launch to stare at the speaker, a short Greenie with unobtrusive brown tail stripes and hardly any fin-tip color at all. The fellow kept his brown hair tied back with a strand of kelp, like most other Tritons, and wore a plain shirt of gray fish scales.

“There’s no one else here. Obviously they want those enormous muscles of yours for whatever they’re planning. It certainly can’t be your brain they’re after. You could lower your arms, you know. I doubt even a desperate fem would be attracted to your scent at the moment.”

It never ceased to amaze Troy when people half his size felt comfortable insulting him. Fortunately, he possessed no qualms over showing them their mistake. He offered his closest facsimile of a friendly smile and stuck out a hand in greeting. “You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

The messenger took Troy’s hand without a hint of suspicion. “My name doesn’t ma- aah, aaugh! Alright, alright. Sorry ‘bout the brains joke.”

Stupid Greenie. Troy released the smaller Triton’s hand. “They obviously don’t need your brains either. It seems you lack them altogether. I assume you’re here to summon me for a mission. Did they tell you what?”

“Nah.” The general’s messenger massaged his injured hand for a moment before continuing. “It’s one of those, ‘we’d have to kill you if we told you’ deals. They just said ‘lunch is served at dinnertime.’”

“Alright, Greenie. Message delivered. Swim off.”

“Any chance of a tip?”

“Sure. Never scare a sea cucumber.”

The messenger rolled his eyes. “Thanks. And you never tease a barracuda.” He swam off, leaving Troy to the unpleasant business of aerobic exercise.

 

Sorry. Couldn't resist. :-P It's just so, um, well, I don't want to offend anyone who might enjoy striking poses. This, er... handsome fellow is Eugene Sandow, father of modern day body building. I'm not sure when this picture was taken, but it was certainly before 1925.

Sorry. Couldn’t resist. 😛 It’s just so, um, well, I don’t want to offend anyone who might enjoy striking poses. This, er… handsome fellow is Eugene Sandow, father of modern day body building. I’m not sure when this picture was taken, but it was certainly before his death 1925.

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