Another Wednesday and lots more words. Today’s #1lineWed theme is **TAME**. I figured I’d have to write a scene but when I searched Scrivener, lo and behold, one instance turned up, though not exactly in the way I anticipated. I may have to tame more words just to be sure the word gets used because…witch and gargoyle? Almost-mortal enemies? Yeah… *rubs hands together* … *waggles brows* Also, the fun thing about Urban Fantasy? The H/h don’t have to meet right at the start. There’s world-building and plot building and characters to introduce, all while the H/h dance around each other.
Oh. One other thing. This is the beginning of Chapter 4, and the title of the chapter? “The Storm is Coming”
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Roman stood at the window, a dark silhouette if anyone below chanced to look up. Early-morning fog swirled through Jackson Square, leaving the granite blocks and wooden benches with a silvery sheen as the first fingers of dawn poked through the gray miasma. Roman refused to count the number of times he’d stood here, waiting, watching for…something. He hadn’t known what until—
A bright swirl of color coalesced through the murk and the constricting pressure in his chest eased, a feeling he chose to ignore. She was early this morning, lugging her wagon with the folding chairs, market umbrella, rickety wooden table, and her satchel filled with the exotic paraphernalia of her trade. Her tousled curls were tamed today, severe in a long braid snaking over one shoulder. Fog swirled around her, lightened, leaving her poised like an island tinted by riotous hues.
He couldn’t remember when he’d first noticed the girl. Young woman, he corrected himself. Of course, she could be a crone of ninety and she’d still be little more than a child to him. He thought back, trying to pinpoint the moment the little gypsy had wormed her way into his psyche. Had she always been there, crouched down hiding behind all the memories of the before times? Perhaps she had.
Roman had found no peace since the first time he’d truly noticed her in front of the cathedral. Her smile tugged at his heart even as his senses warred with the knowledge of what—of who—she might be. Was she rogue? Or perhaps unaligned, though the witches guarded their bloodlines as closely as they did their Book of Shadows. The girls was an unknown. The Witches’ Council knew nothing of her that Roman could gleam from them. All magicks living or visiting in the city had to register with the Legates office and he had no record of a gypsy girl who told fortunes on Jackson Square. That was disturbing.
He didn’t know her name but this young woman with haunted shadows in her eyes and the fragile sheen of magic clinging to her skin like glitter drew him as inexorably as that proverbial moth. Would she singe his wings if he got too close? He was half tempted to find out.
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Anyone have tame words to share? Anyone want to hear the song from the playlist for this chapter? It’s “The World is Unraveling” by Milck.
