<— Just breached 40k!
Less than 9k to go! Technically, TECHNICALLY, I can do that in two or three days. Of course, that requires me to write more than 1k words per day.
Thank you to the score of wonderful women who I have the priviledge of knowing. You’re all very right and though I haven’t stopped playing, there are ways to limit the obsession. I’ve come further than I thought I would with this project and I refuse to give up now that I’m so close to the end.
Not the end of the novel, mind you, but the end of NaNoWriMo nevertheless. Hopefully you’re checking frantically for an update and signs of scribbling. Well, your diligence has paid off, my friends.
Seth was sitting on the small, barren bed when they came into the room. His hands and feet were bound with a different rope than the one Lee had seen them use the day before. It was pure black and she imagined it to be soft as velvet rather than coarse. While he was pale and dark-haired with dark eyes, there was little else that offered any resemblance between him and Damien. Seth’s face was plain, almost forgettable, and his hair was cropped short. He currently sported a dark scruff on his chin and jaw. His lips curled in a crooked smirk when Damien and Lee entered the room.
“Welcome to my humble abode! I wasn’t aware I would be receiving visitors, or I would have spruced the place up for you.” He bowed his head in what might have been a humble gesture were it not for the expression on his face.
Damien ignored him and offered the single chair in the room for Lee. She shook her head and leant against a nearby wall.
“What’s the occasion?” Seth asked.
Damien sat down and looked at him. “We would like to talk to you.”
“Continuing our conversation from before?”
“Ah, but I’m sure I can convince you to see reason if you give me the opportunity.”
“You’re awfully chipper for a prisoner,” Lee interjected. It wouldn’t help anyone if the pair of them got locked in another fruitless discussion of right and wrong.
Seth turned his dark eyes to her. “Why shouldn’t I be? Damien isn’t going to kill me and he won’t let me starve. Nor will he turn me back to the Brothers since that would be the same as killing me.” He shrugged. “The biggest threat of being, as you say, a ‘prisoner’ here is boredom.”
“Damien isn’t the only one here.”
“Are you a killer, then?”
Something about him made her uneasy. It was a different unease from the one she felt when she was near Caiden; it was less like being dressed naked with a glance and more like being faced with a cold, unrelenting surface. There was nothing there but menace. “No,” she told him. “And nor are we the only two with a say in this house.” She wasn’t sure where she got her courage from, but she clung to it fiercely. “So you might want to adopt a different attitude and think about co-operating.”
He chuckled and looked at Damien. “Where did you find her? She reminds me of a young and innocent Michaela.” He paused, as if thinking. “I suppose that’s not surprising, considering…”
“Be silent,” Damien spat. “She has a valid point and I’m sure you know it. I’d like to talk about the Brotherhood of Man.”
“And why would you want to do that?”
“It’s been suggested to me that you might hold information that could be useful to us after your time with them.”
Seth flicked his gaze over Lee before returning his attention to Damien. He wasn’t stupid, and Lee knew she would do well to remember that around him.
“How did you come to join them?”
“I already told you.”
“No, you told me why. I want to know how. I assume they knew you were affiliated with rebels, so how did they go about recruiting you to their cause?” Damien crossed his legs and rested his hands in his lap. He had assumed a patient and impassive facade.
“Ah,” Seth breathed. “They approached me and gave me a choice; roll over and die, or listen to their alternative. I chose to listen.”
“And what did they propose?”
“To stab friends in the back, obviously.”
Damien’s features tightened. “Obviously,” he repeated coolly.
Seth shrugged. “No need for that. I did what I had to do to survive, just as I always have. They offered me immunity if I led them to a few particularly troublesome bands of rebels. It had nothing to do with walkers, though they offered me a bonus for them. Needless to say, if you had all perished at the hands of the Brotherhood, I would be rather well off.”
“You know nothing of my heart, Damien.”
Of course it needs work (disclaimer disclaimer sensitive writer feelings) but somehow what I’ve written after my hiatus feels crisper. The prose seems different. Not so different that it’s not my own style, but it’s less… wildly meandering about. Probably brainstorming to figure out my characters better helped a lot. I’m looking forward to going back and editing so I can put in new passages and make my characters more alive.