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Happy Wednesday!

How are you? We have craziness going on here, and it shall continue for a time. Yesterday, my elder daughters took off to Boston with their grandparents. 😦 Tomorrow, Beloved takes off for a wedding in another state. 😦 He’ll be back Monday :-D, but the girls will still be away. 😦 When they get back, the grandparents will hang out for a week. Two hours after they depart, my Cali bestie arrives for another week of visiting. Four days after she departs, Beloved’s grandmother and cousin come up for a visit. YIPES!!! Hopefully I’ll make it ’round to visit everyone this week. I’ll try to schedule another WIPpet in there somewhere, otherwise, I won’t show up again until late September.

I’m giving you 2 POV’s in one WIPpet today. Let me know if you think it works.

Much love to our gracious hostess, Emily Witt.

Math: last two digits of the year = 16 paragraphs (under 500 words)

Character descriptions:

Arvid 5’6″, dark copper skin, long brown hair, brown eyes, gymnast’s build.

Taiamuk 6’3″, long red hair, gray eyes, a multitude of freckles, numerous scars, muscles a la young Jackie Chan. Notable scars include three stab wounds on his right side and a long, horizontal gash across his chest.

Tikaleam 5’4ish”, ankle-length, red hair that’s a couple shades lighter than Tai’s and worn in two long braids, rosy cheeks but no freckles, bluish-gray eyes.

Zedeleam 5’5ish”, ankle-length, rich brown hair, also in two long braids, blue eyes, voluptuous hourglass figure, perpetually has the come hither in her eye.

Chishemuk 5’11ish”, long light brown hair, light brown eyes, clearly strong but with a touch of padding.

Necessary Context

  • I skipped a few paragraphs ahead form the last WIPpet. Arvid tried to find the right salute and failed every time. It was awkward. Someone broke the awkward moment. They’re all going inside now.
  • The women on Tai’s arms are Tikaleam (his sister) and Zedeleam (his ex).
  • Very rough drafty.
  • Mangled for word count and spoilers.

A man with light brown hair fell into step beside her and offered his arm. Arvid glanced ahead at the women attached to Tai and wondered if the man’s offer obliged her to accept. Hoping to avoid another social blunder, she laced her arm through his.

“Thank you,” she murmured, not sure of the etiquette.

“You speak our language?”

“Little.” She pressed her lips into a wry smile for him. “And slow.”

The man smiled in return. “I am Chishemuk Noof,” he spoke loudly and slowly, close to her ear.

His volume made the headache brought on by the stench of the crowd and amplified by the perfume in the gourd-cart hammer against her temples with renewed vigor. She dipped her chin in a miniature salute. “Arvid.”

“Ayrvid.” He rolled the r of her name over his tongue like he wanted to taste it. His eyes trailed down her, pausing at her breasts then fixing on her weapon belt. “Do you know how to use this?” He reached across himself to touch the hilt of her dagger.

Arvid twitched her hip, using the movement to thwack his fingers with the pommel. “Yes.”

Chishemuk yelped and snatched his hand away. He laughed, shook his hand, and leaned closer. “You have skill with your body.”

Like every warrior. She assumed he meant it as a compliment. He meant it as something, though she doubted she wanted to examine his motives. However he intended the comment, it seemed a poor accolade, given how many people it applied to. She looked him over, trying to find something to compliment in return, in case his culture required that. The bejeweled, gold hilt of his sword caught her eye.

“Your sword looks good.”

Chishemuk grinned. He pressed her arm into his side and leaned close to whisper, “It is.”


Taiamuk hated leaving Arvid to be escorted by another man. He knew she worried about decorum and his father’s response to her various attempts at greeting him likely undermined her poor confidence. She handled it like a perfect lady, of course, hooking onto Chishemuk’s arm without hesitation.

Tikaleam prattled about everything that happened since he left. He tried to follow, but he kept catching himself listening to Arvid’s conversation with Chishemuk. It took all his self-control not to turn to see what made Chishemuk squawk. He trusted Arvid. She’d make mistakes, yes, but she wouldn’t intentionally give offense. He hoped. Memories of their first days together surfaced to remind him how rude she could be when angry.

He caught her comment about Chishemuk’s sword. True. Chishemuk carried one of the finest swords in the kingdom. He offered it to men and women alike without prejudice. The literal one was well-made, too.

He looked over his shoulder. Chishemuk put his mouth close to Arvid’s ear, almost touching, to whisper something. Arvid’s features remained immobile, betraying none of the disgust she must feel. Right? She disliked Chishemuk’s attention. Didn’t she?

Epée dite de Charlemagne.

Epée dite de Charlemagne.

To join WIPpet Wednesday…

  1. Post a snippet of your WIP that relates to the date
  2. Thank Emily Witt
  3. Link up here
  4. Enjoy good writing