Word count: 1,744
Reward for achieving daily goal: sushi and a root beer
Today was a bit of a messy day, writing wise. I had a later start to work – which should have meant I could spend the morning writing, but alas that was not the case. First I had to renew my driver’s licence, then I had to drop something off to a friend at the Mall, then my mother rang and we had a lengthy phone conversation, all meaning that I only just managed to attain the word count for the day with just enough time left over to get to work! Because, if I didn’t achieve the word count before work, I couldn’t reward myself with my intended dinner!
Today my characters spent a lot of time being embarrassed, and engaging in the semi-awkward conversation you get between three people, two of whom know each other quite well, and the third of which does not. Much blushing. Need more synonyms for “embarrassment”!
Scrivener: nothing new today, or discovered any new traps/pitfalls. All good there! Just gotta be careful of the autocomplete thing. I suppose I *could* disable it, but I kinda like that it corrects my actual typos – just gotta train it into all the other words!
Writing accents is difficult too. I’ve got it down pat for Daniel, but it’s harder to do it for Jamilyn without forcing her to speak in Scottish cliches. I’m actually tempted to change her name to something softer and more feminine.
Partly to hide her discomforting feelings, but also out of genuine interest, Kataryna approached the two pack llamas. The piebald one looked up as she approached, emitting a low humming sound. She stopped, holding up her hands to show that they were empty (Fluffy being nestled back into her coat pocket) and held one out for the animal to sniff. Its nostrils flared, breath steaming warm against her palm.
“Here.” Daniel was beside her, placing something in her palm. A slice of apple. “Hold it flat.” His nearness made her fur tingle and she swallowed back a lump in her throat. Concentrated on the fruit, offering it flat to the beast. The llama’s lips were gentle and soft, plucking it from her hand with barely a brush of contact and leaving a faint sticky trail of juice behind. It lifted its head, long ears upright, dark eyes gentle beneath the long, curled eyelashes.
“Does she have a name?” Kataryna ventured.
“No, not really.” Daniel shuffled a little, and looked faintly, strangely, shame-faced. “Although sometimes I call it Patch. On account of, well, its patches.” He indicated the llama’s spotted hide. Its pelt was short, tight curls.
Kataryna nodded. Liking him even more — if that were possible — at this admission. Furrae were, for the most part, inclined to treat animals as commodities, as objects, not as the sentient beings that they were. “Can I stroke her?” she asked.
Daniel looked surprised at the question, as though the thought would never have occurred to him. “Well, I guess so,” he said. “Just don’t move too fast. Ye dinna want to startle it.” His lips twitched into a grin. “Believe me, ye dinna want to startle it. Also,” he added, “I, err, think it’s actually a boy.”
A quick glance confirmed this declaration and Kataryna kind of wished the ground would just open and swallow her up. She hid her embarrassment by stepping closer to the creature, reaching out and placing her hand on its shoulder blade. The tight curls felt dense, more like wool than fur. The llama, Patch, seemed completely oblivious to her actions, its attentions being more focused on Daniel, and the possibility of another slice of apple.
“Does the white one not have a name too?” The other llama, perhaps seeking some of the attentions Patch was receiving, had raised its head and was studying them with its gentle gaze.
“Err, nay.” Daniel gave a small cough. “I mean, aye. I call it Snow. Because of, well, the colour, ye ken.” He scratched himself behind the ear. “I ain’t too imaginative, when it comes to names.”
Kataryna allowed herself a chuckle. “I can hardly complain. I have a tarantula named Fluffy.”