Tag: Khennik

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

A Courtship of Dragons: Part 41

Becca Lusher

Courtship Banner 1

A Courtship of Dragons is a M/M Romance short novel (approximately 60,000 words) told in short scenes, between two young dragons, Estenarven kin Boulderforce Clan Stoneheart and Mastekh kin Rainstorm Clan Flowflight. It’s pure fluff ‘n’ stuff and not intended to be anything other than that.

|| First Part || All Parts || Last Part ||

Even in amongst all the Storm Rising stuff, I haven’t forgotten about you, my dear ol’ Courtship readers. Especially not when Khennik’s about to put his foot down.

41
Enough

“I AM SORRY about this, you know,” Elder Blazeborn said, as he and Estenarven walked back to their suite. “I had no idea this would turn into so many meetings. I’m not even certain what they’re discussing anymore.”

The elder had never been one for trade diplomacy. Not that Estenarven could blame him. He hadn’t been able to work out what all the meetings were about either, until he’d caught a glimpse of Reglian’s betting book and discovered Goryal’s stake in the proceedings.

“It’s not your fault,” Estenarven said, entirely truthfully.

Elder Blazeborn rubbed a hand over his head and blew out a weary sigh. “Perhaps not, but since neither of you will help yourselves, I’m putting my foot down. We’re all taking tomorrow off.”

“But the meetings…” Estenarven protested, a little less forcefully than he probably should.

“Burn them. I have nothing to contribute and won’t be missed. And if I’m not there, nor will you be. Let them fetch their own blasted food and drinks for once. My patience has ended.”

A huge smile of relief broke through Estenarven’s tiredness. The Blazeborn elder had never been well known for his patience, but while he continued to attend it was up to Estenarven – and Mastekh – to support him. But if he wasn’t there…

“Thank you.”

Khennik waved a dismissive hand and pushed open the door to their suite. “Just don’t wake me in the morning. In fact, I don’t want to see either of you all day long. Finish your courtship. I have sleep to catch up on.” So saying, the grumpy elder walked into his private room and shoved the door shut behind him.

Estenarven watched him go with a fond smile. Khennik would never be the friendliest of dragons, but beneath his grumps and growls, there was a good heart. Even if it wasn’t particular gracious at accepting gratitude.

“Thank you,” he murmured again, yawning as he glanced over at the closed door to Mastekh’s room. He’d noticed his Puddle slipping out early from the dinner and sighed with disappointment. So much for coaxing Mastekh into a cuddle or two before bedtime. Ah well, he wouldn’t disturb him now. His poor Rainstorm had been run ragged over recent days, back and forth to the kitchen, up and down the stairs. Estenarven would let him sleep. He could surprise him with the news of their reprieve in the morning.

Rubbing his hands together in anticipation, another yawn overtook his smile and he rubbed his hands over his eyes instead.

“Time for bed,” he muttered, pushing into his room and collapsing onto his blankets.

“Wuh!”

“Ah!”

Not only was his bed not nearly as soft as he remembered, it also contained a frenzy of thrashing limbs. Estenarven jerked back and hit the floor with a bone-rattling thud.

“What the blazes!” Khennik arrived in a swirl of fire and light – and froze in the doorway, taking in the sight before him.

Estenarven lay sprawled on the floor, wincing as he sat up on his tender backside. Meanwhile, the pile of blankets on the bed continued to thrash and moan, until Mastekh’s head popped out, squinting at the bright glow of Elder Blazeborn’s power.

“Mastekh?” Estenarven and Khennik asked together, one slightly more incredulously than the other.

Moaning, Mastekh pressed his arm over his eyes and curled up tighter, wincing as he moved his legs. Estenarven winced in sympathy, remembering how heavily he’d fallen on his bed. Because he’d expected it to be empty. He’d thought he was alone.

“Ah, ahem, well,” Elder Blazeborn cleared his throat awkwardly and Estenarven looked at him properly for the first time since his arrival. Bronze skin glowing with power, Khennik’s robe hung half off his shoulders, the silk still smoking. It seemed like they’d given their elder as much of a shock as they’d given themselves.

“I’ll just leave this here, I think.” Khennik let a small golden globe drop from his fingers. “Good night.”

“N-n-night,” Mastekh whimpered from the bed.

“Good night,” Estenarven called, picking up the globe and gingerly climbing to his feet to shut the door. “And thank you!”

Khennik made a grumbling reply about keeping it down as he returned to his own room. Leaving Estenarven alone with Mastekh. Finally.

“Puddle?” he murmured, placing the glow globe on a high shelf and crawling onto the bed. “Are you all right? Did I hurt you? Speak to me.”

Silk sighed as Mastekh shook his head, his face still hidden by his arm. “Sur-p-prised,” he mumbled.

Estenarven snorted in agreement and carefully eased down until he was lying alongside the other dragon. “You and me both, Puddle.” He pulled his Rainstorm closer.

Mastekh flinched and rolled away, hugging his knees tight against his chest, back to Estenarven. “I’m s-s-sorry,” he gasped, covering his head with his arm again.

“I’m not,” Estenarven grumbled, inching closer. Mastekh inched away. Estenarven followed and, since he was on the wall-side of the exceedingly narrow bed, Mastekh swiftly ran out of space and was caught. Estenarven pressed his chest against Mastekh’s back and buried his face against the nape of his neck. He sighed. “You’re in my bed. Best surprise I’ve had all century.”

Trembling, Mastekh uncurled a fraction and peered over his shoulder. “T-t-truly?”

Estenarven took advantage of the slight softening and wrapped his arms around Mastekh’s waist, hauling him as close as possible. “Truly,” he rumbled in reply, kissing his Puddle’s wet cheek. “As long as you’re not hurt.”

“I’m not h-hurt. Just em-b-barrassed.”

“Mm,” Estenarven hummed, yawning against Mastekh’s shoulder. “Never mind now. Leave it to tomorrow. Sleep.”

Mastekh hummed in agreement, shifting around until he could tuck his head against Estenarven’s chest. “You’re not h-hurt?” he whispered.

Ignoring the throbbing in his tail bone, Estenarven breathed in a lungful of Rainstorm scent and smiled. “No.”

“G-g-good,” Mastekh yawned, and went boneless with relaxation.

Running a hand up his back to stroke the Rainstorm’s soft cloud of hair, Estenarven wondered if he should offer to take Mastekh back to his own room. Except his Puddle seemed exceedingly comfortable where he was and Estenarven was in no mood to move either. He wanted to sleep, needed to sleep, and having Mastekh in his arms made everything ten times better.

So he closed his eyes and breathed deeply, aware that tomorrow was a free day in which he didn’t have to do anything. Neither of them did. They could stay in bed all day if they wished.

Bliss.

Mastekh snuggled deeper into his arms and made a sound of contentment as he wriggled his way beneath Estenarven’s robe and pressed his cheek against bare skin. The Rainstorm was cool to the touch but perfect. Utterly perfect.

Estenarven released the last of the day’s tension and sank into the depths of sleep.

Courtship 7~ Next Part ~Courtship 7

If, like Khennik, you’re fed up of waiting to find out what happens next, get the ebook – it’s free!

Whatever you choose to do, take care, my lovelies.

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

A Courtship of Dragons: Part 37

Becca Lusher

courtship-banner

A Courtship of Dragons is a M/M Romance short novel (approximately 60,000 words) told in short scenes, between two young dragons, Estenarven kin Boulderforce Clan Stoneheart and Mastekh kin Rainstorm Clan Flowflight. It’s pure fluff ‘n’ stuff and not intended to be anything other than that.

|| First Part || All Parts || Last Part ||

At last, everything is going so well…

37
Delay

DESPITE CARRYING A substantial rock, large enough to fill both hands, Estenarven felt light and merry as he entered Elder Blazeborn’s suite later that afternoon, while yet another storm raged around the tower.

“Ah, there you are.” Khennik looked up from the desk in the main room just as lightning flashed through the narrow windows, glinting off the gold veins in the quartz Estenarven was holding. The elder eyed the object admiringly. “Sixth gift?”

Not liking the way the Blazeborn was staring at the quartz, well aware of the reputation Sunlord dragons had when it came to shiny precious things – along with delicious foods, sumptuous furnishings, grand artwork, swathes of territory and, well, everything, since Sunlords were the most acquisitive of Clans – Estenarven tucked the rock against his chest and wrapped his arms around it, hiding most of it from sight.

“Something precious,” he explained, entirely unnecessarily.

The corner of Elder Blazeborn’s mouth curled ever so slightly upwards. “Fret not, Estenarven. I won’t steal your gift. There are some Sunlords who cannot control their possessive urges. Luckily for you, I am not one of them.”

Even so, Estenarven had prepared for a moment such as this and reached into his pocket. While he’d been searching for the perfect piece of quartz, one with a vein of gold that looked like a river, he’d happened upon a several smaller chunks that might not have been what he’d sought for Mastekh but had still caught his eye. One of which was almost entirely gold with only a few glints of quartz.

He placed it carefully on the table before Khennik. “Thank you, elder.”

The Blazeborn eyed the palm-sized stone warily. “For what?”

His obvious suspicion made Estenarven smile, since he’d intended the rock as a bribe to convince the elder to let him give the bigger piece to Mastekh uncontested. Apparently he needn’t have bothered, which made him perversely all the more eager to give Khennik something.

“For allowing my courtship of Mastekh to continue. For not interfering. For being reasonable. For not trying to take this,” he nodded at the stone now tucked into the crook of his arm, “from me. For keeping Mastekh safe at Teirenlai. For not refusing Goryal when he insisted I should be assigned to you as punishment. For not getting angry when Mastekh drops things, for not getting annoyed when we bicker, for not complaining when one – or both – of us wander off for most of the day.”

Khennik blinked in astonishment at the words that kept on coming, but now that Estenarven had started, he realised he had so much thank this dragon for. More than he’d ever realised.

“Thank you for saving Mastekh’s life at Boltspike, for keeping us with you. For being you.” Taking a deep breath and stopping before he got too carried away, Estenarven picked up the gold rock and leant across the table to place it directly in front of his elder. “Thank you.”

Khennik stared at the rock as if it was about to explode and blinked. Then cautiously, carefully, he picked it up. A flicker of lightning lit up the windows, making the flecks of quartz embedded in the gold glow. Elder Blazeborn turned the rock around in his hand, stroking his fingers over the uneven, ragged edges before his fist closed possessively about it.

When he looked up at Estenarven, his golden eyes glowed with power. “Thank you,” the elder said, and Estenarven sighed with relief that his gift had been accepted. That his thanks hadn’t been rejected. A sense of achievement and approval washed over him and he grinned, hugging Mastekh’s gift against his chest.

“Do you think he’ll like it?” he couldn’t help asking.

Busy admiring his gold stone again, Elder Blazeborn looked up and tipped his head. “I see no reason why he wouldn’t. It looks like a river captured within the stone. You give very thoughtful gifts, Estenarven.”

Unused to praise from his gruff elder, Estenarven had the unfamiliar sensation of flushing with pleasure. Thank the Family his skin was dark and wouldn’t betray him like Mastekh’s paler complexion.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “I was hoping to give it to him tonight, if you have no need of us.”

“Ah.” Khennik finally put down his rock and laid his hands flat against the table. “Tonight. Has Mastekh given you your sixth gift yet?”

Any happy, light feelings began to fade at the question. “No,” Estenarven said slowly. “Not yet.”

Khennik’s frown turned into a grimace. “Then I regret to inform you that you cannot give this to him tonight. I sadly do have need of you both.”

Disappointment threatened to pull Estenarven’s shoulders down, but his elder had asked so little of them lately – rarely asked much of them even when he had every right to – that he forced himself not to show it. “Whatever you need, elder. We are both here to serve.”

At that moment the door handle rattled and Mastekh entered the suite as if summoned by their elder’s request. Estenarven’s eyes widened as he looked down at the gift he was still holding. Elder Blazeborn stood up swiftly and walked around the desk, taking Mastekh’s attention with him and away from Estenarven.

“Ah, Mastekh, I was just explaining to Estenarven that I shall be dining with Elder Gwyllen tonight and require both of you to attend. It would appear that our host has finally decided to take advantage of our presence and do business with the humans. As a delegate to the embassy, I am told my place is to sit there and ensure all are dealt with fairly.”

“Oh.” Mastekh murmured, sounding as if he too was struggling to hide his disappointment.

Having looked around the room and found nothing big enough to hide the quartz in or behind, Estenarven grimaced and stuffed the rock inside his robe. Though he tucked it between his arm and his body, there was no way he could disguise the fact he was holding something.

“Yes,” Elder Blazeborn continued, keeping Mastekh’s attention away from Estenarven as he began shuffling towards his bedroom door. “Tiresome, I know. The other elders will have their aides attending on them, but if you and Estenarven have other plans, I will likely be able to cope alone. Perhaps Reglian will assist me.”

Estenarven and Mastekh both bristled. As disappointing as it was not to be able to share his sixth gift just yet, there was no way on this Overworld that either he or Mastekh would allow their elder to dine with the other dragons and their aides alone, leaving him as the only one not being properly cared for. Nor would they permit another dragon to take their place.

The care of Elder Blazeborn was their task – no one else’s.

“We’ll be there,” Estenarven announced, forgetting for a moment that he was supposed to be sneaking away before Mastekh noticed the ill-concealed gift inside his robe.

Thankfully he was in a shadowy portion of the room, so even though Mastekh glanced at him, nodding firmly in agreement, he didn’t seem to notice anything amiss.

The corner of Elder Blazeborn’s mouth curled up ever-so-slightly. “So be it. The bell will sound soon – I trust neither of you need too long to prepare.” He cast Estenarven a brief but knowing glance, which Mastekh again failed to notice.

“Not too l-long at all, eld-d-der,” the Rainstorm bubbled, pressing a hand against his robe pocket and rushing into his room.

“Glad to hear it,” Khennik murmured, raising an eyebrow at where Estenarven still stood in the shadows. “I trust that all my hard work providing you with a distraction won’t go to waste now while you stand around daydreaming until Mastekh returns and catches you once again in the open with a badly hidden gift.”

“Ah. Yes, right.” Having been distracted by the sway of Mastekh’s robe as he hurried away, Estenarven cleared his throat and started moving again. “I’ll be back in a tail swish.”

Over the sound of Khennik’s amused snort, Estenarven raced into his room and bundled Mastekh’s gift beneath his pillow. Sighing with relief at finally having the precious thing out of sight, he emptied his pockets of his smaller treasures and turned to his wash his face in the basin. Straightening his robe, he peered into his mirror and smoothed a hand over his bald head.

A little more harried than usual, but otherwise he looked well enough.

“One more night won’t make any difference,” he told his reflection. After all, there was no set time limit between each gift. There could be days, moons, even years between one courting gift and the next if the dragons involved so required. The only time limit applied when it came to reciprocating one gift to another in order to complete the set. Which was why Elder Blazeborn had asked if Estenarven had received his sixth gift yet. If he had, he would only have a day to respond, else the courtship would be ended. However, since neither of them had yet given their sixth gift, there was no real harm in deferring their courtship for another day.

Much though he might wish otherwise.

“Pull yourself together,” he ordered, poking a finger at his reflected nose. “You’re a Boulderforce. You won’t crumble in the meantime.”

Even so, he would miss the long, leisurely evening chats that always started with them sitting side-by-side – Mastekh usually keeping a decorous hand’s span of space between them – and ended with a Rainstorm draped across his chest, sleepily listening to whatever nonsense Estenarven could come up with to keep them together a little while longer. He had hoped that tonight, after their sixth gifts had been exchanged, he might be able to coax Mastekh into staying with him all night. Sleeping, only sleeping, but sadly it seemed as though the elders had other plans.

A heavy bell tolled somewhere overhead and Estenarven relinquished his hopes with a sigh. He had work to do. He wasn’t here for his health, but because Elder Blazeborn needed him.

With that in mind, he rejoined the others and they set off through the halls of Highstrike for another tedious evening of trade talks and diplomatic dancing.

More next Wednesday!

Courtship 7

Courtship 7
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Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

A Courtship of Dragons: Part 21

Becca Lusher

courtship-banner

A Courtship of Dragons is a M/M Romance novella (I hope, although it keeps growing so who knows where it’ll end up) told in short scenes, between two young dragons, Estenarven kin Boulderforce Clan Stoneheart and Mastekh kin Rainstorm Clan Flowflight. It’s pure fluff ‘n’ stuff and not intended to be anything other than that.

|| First Part || All Parts || Last Part ||

In which Khennik gives some advice. Sort of.

21
Thoughts

7th Storm

ESTENARVEN KNELT BESIDE his bed, studying the meagre belongings he had brought with him on this trip. He’d never been an acquisitive dragon – Boulderforces rarely were – and such a lack of material possessions had never bothered him. Until now. The small stone box inside his travelling case was half full of beans and pebbles, but the sight of them made him smile in memory of all that they meant.

It was the lack of much else that brought on a frown.

A tap on the door made him jump and he instinctively reached out to hide his treasures, only to relax when it was Elder Blazeborn who leant inside.

Sighing, Estenarven sat back on his heels and half twisted towards the door. “Yes, elder?”

Khennik tilted his head, taking in the open box on the bed, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Fourth gift?”

Estenarven snorted derisively and glared down at his little box of treasures. He’d thought them so special once. Now he could hardly remember why he’d ever considered any of them precious. Stones and letters and scraps. Nothing good enough for his needs.

The Blazeborn elder took another step into the tiny room and asked for permission to sit with a tilt of his hand. Estenarven nodded, balling his fists against the instinctive need to hide his treasures. Just because Boulderforces were rarely acquisitive, didn’t mean they weren’t possessive. And Sunlords were known for their hoards.

Something about the tension in his body must have alerted Khennik, though, because while he sat carefully beside the box and leant over for a closer look, the elder kept his hands carefully behind his back. “You have a lot of pebbles and beans.”

“Second gift,” Estenarven offered in reply.

“Ah.” Khennik tilted his head and squinted. Moving slowly, he looked at Estenarven for permission before gently shifting some pebbles aside to see what lay beneath. “Well, now. Wherever did you come by this?”

Estenarven wrinkled his nose, laying his palms flat against his thighs to stop himself from snatching the tiny object out of his elder’s claws. “Found it,” he grumbled.

Khennik arched an eyebrow and placed the delicate object on the rumpled blanket covering the bed. “Unusual for a Boulderforce.”

Estenarven shrugged, feeling a touch of heat rising to his cheeks. It was an unusual possession for a Boulderforce to keep, especially as it wasn’t made from stone, but despite its small and delicate appearance, this little object held a raft of memories for him.

Reaching out, he scooped up the little figure, carved out of some unknown wood, smoothed and shaped into the appearance of a well-rounded human, sexless and faceless, with only the faintest traces of when it had once been painted. Estenarven didn’t know where it had originated from or how old it was, but it wore its age in the form of scratches and scars and weathered cracks. He’d found it many, many years ago when he’d been barely a dragonling first venturing out of the safety of his kin nest. He’d been digging with Estenarix, pretending that they were fierce dragon explorers searching for new minerals to mine.

They had uncovered five figures that day, of varying shapes and sizes. Estenarix had thought them ugly and boring and tossed them all aside, reburying them in her quest for something solid, something stone, something shiny and exciting. She’d scoffed at him when he’d said he wanted to keep them, so he’d had to sneak back later to dig them up again. He’d only been able to find four of them that time and over the years they’d each been broken and lost.

This was the only one left. It had been through so much with him, so many years, so many miles, so many changes. Yet despite the memories and centuries they’d shared together, it didn’t look like much.

“I can’t give him that,” he said, instead of voicing all the thoughts running through his mind.

Elder Blazeborn watched him quietly, golden eyes scanning Estenarven’s pensive face. “Does it mean that much to you?”

Estenarven stared at the tiny figure, nestled so securely in his palm, and bit back an instinctive denial. It did mean a lot. Khennik wouldn’t judge him for feeling a connection to such a strange object, but that wasn’t what he was asking. Estenarven stroked a finger over the familiar curves, feeling the smooth patches and the rough places, the scratches and cracks and flaking paintwork.

He sighed. “Not more than Mastekh,” he admitted. “But it’s not much of a gift. Look at it.”

Khennik didn’t look at the figure – he looked at Estenarven. “If it means so much to you, Estenarven, it will mean everything to him. As long as you are willing to share its significance. That more than anything contains its worth.”

Estenarven curled his hand around the precious, pathetic object and nodded. Of everything he owned, of all that he cared enough to carry with him, this was what mattered the most. Except for Mastekh.

“Then I have my gift.”

“So you do,” Khennik said softly, smiling ever so briefly before getting to his feet. “I’ll be out for the rest of the day. Elder Gwyllen has invited me and the other elders to dinner. Don’t wait up.” He slipped out of the tiny room, silk robes whispering in his wake.

Leaving Estenarven to frown down at the tiny figure in his hands and wonder how good a gift it would prove to be.

More next week.

Take care, my lovelies!

Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

A Courtship of Dragons: Part 16

Becca Lusher

courtship-banner

A Courtship of Dragons is a M/M Romance (it could be short, it could be a novella, it could be any size, I have no idea) told in short scenes, between two young dragons, Estenarven kin Boulderforce Clan Stoneheart and Mastekh kin Rainstorm Clan Flowflight. It’s pure fluff ‘n’ stuff and not intended to be anything other than that.

|| First Part || All Parts || Last Part ||

Sorry for the delay. Rift should hopefully be out and available by the weekend. In the meantime…

A quiet breakfast in which nobody panics. Hopefully.


16
A Gift of Meaning

5th Storm

THE THIRD GIFT of courtship had to be one of great meaning to the dragon being courted, to show how well the other dragon knew them. Even though Mastekh had only delivered his second gift the night before, he was already fretting over the next one – and also what to expect from Estenarven.

Mastekh didn’t have much in the way of possessions. He’d never needed them before. He wasn’t a very material minded dragon, and he struggled to think of anything Estenarven could possibly give to him, almost as much as he worried over what to give in return.

“Third gift, is it?” Elder Blazeborn enquired, not even looking up from his letters when Mastekh delivered his morning tea. “Any ideas yet?”

Mastekh was so thrown by the idea that the elder was paying attention to his aides’ courtship that he babbled something incoherent and scurried away before he could drip all over the carpets.

It was one thing to have enlisted the assistance of the Rift Rider lieutenants the night before – they were friends of Estenarven and seemed delighted to help – but including Elder Blazeborn would be unthinkable. He was far too busy and important to worry about his aides’ private lives. He was an elder and, more than that, he was working to undo the Cloud Curse that had covered all the world in a thick blanket of cloud.

No, no, Mastekh wasn’t about to draw Elder Blazeborn into his planning. It would be unseemly.

All of which had him flustered and dithering as he finished laying out the breakfast things and sat down to await Estenarven’s arrival.

Placing the beakers and platters down just so, Mastekh reached across and tweaked things ever so slightly before lowering himself onto his knees in front of the table. He drummed his fingers on the polished marble surface, twitched his feet, wriggled to get comfortable again, shifted to sit cross-legged, then stood up with a huff. It wasn’t working. He’d never been good at sitting still, even when he wasn’t waiting.

So he took a quick walk around the table and, when that didn’t settle his jitters, made a lap of the room. Pausing before Estenarven’s door, he half-raised his hand to knock, wanting to get this meeting over with, yet also fearing to disturb the other dragon. What if Estenarven wasn’t even awake yet? Just because both he and the elder were up, didn’t mean the Boulderforce would be too. Mastekh clenched his hand into a fist and paced back the other way.

Passing the table for the third time, he stopped dead as Estenarven’s door swung open and the Boulderforce himself stepped into the main room, arms stretched over his head, mouth open in a wide yawn. Rolling his shoulders, Estenarven rubbed his jaw and glanced sleepily around until he found Mastekh.

He smiled sweetly. “Morning, Puddle,” he rumbled, voice deep and rough with sleep.

Mastekh’s knees wobbled and he folded swiftly down in front of the table again. “M-m-morning,” he mumbled in return. “T-tea?”

“Mm,” Estenarven agreed, sauntering over to join him and settling down on the opposite side of the low table. “Thank you for my gift.”

Heat flooded into Mastekh’s cheeks and he ducked his head. Water sloshed out of the teapot, barely making it into the beakers, so he put it down and took a deep breath. “You’re w-welcome. Th-thank you for m-mine.”

“You liked it?” Estenarven asked, sounding almost shy as he reached for seed rolls, fresh fruit and the honey pot.

Mastekh knew he had to be completely green in the face by now – he felt so warm and his throat was tight with nerves – but he managed a nod.

The Boulderforce let out a soft huff and Mastekh blinked at him in surprise. Estenarven beamed with relief – had he been nervous too? Mastekh couldn’t see why. He was Estenarven, after all, no dragon – or human – in their right mind would ever turn him down. Nor dislike such a lovely gift as the jade pot.

It made some of his own nerves ease, and Mastekh managed to ask, “And y-you?”

Estenarven’s smile this time was pure joy. “I love my gift. Beans and pebbles. The best of you and me. Hope and endurance. It was a perfect second gift, Puddle. Thank you.”

“Oh.” Mastekh ducked his head again, face so warm he almost expected it to start steaming. He was pleased and embarrassed and confused by just how happy such simple words could make him. After all, the gift had been a strange, silly one that he’d had to explain over and over again to the dracos watching him in the kitchen. But Estenarven understood. He liked it.

Flexing his fingers to remove the jitters, Mastekh picked up the teapot again and carefully poured them both a beaker of steaming liquid. He’d gone with honey and lemon today, needing something sweet to help battle his nerves. Estenarven took a deep sniff before he drank and hummed with approval.

After that they ate in silence, but it was a good silence, filled with companionship of a kind Mastekh had never dreamed he would ever encounter. He’d never been good with words, but silence often made him anxious, certain he should be saying something if only he could think of what. But not with Estenarven, never with Estenarven. The Boulderforce had words enough for the both of them, so when he chose quiet it was because he knew there was nothing that needed to be said. It was a relief and a relaxation all in one. Mastekh drank his tea, picked at his blackberries and breathed easily.

This was what he wanted: peace, companionship, quiet. This was what he needed.

Polishing off the last of the seed rolls and shining an apple on the front of his robe, Estenarven shifted from sitting on his knees to stretching his long legs beneath the table. “So, what chores are on the list for today?” he asked, planting his elbows on the table and crunching into his apple.

Mastekh jumped as Estenarven’s feet knocked against his knees. “Um…” He shuffled aside to give the Boulderforce more room, only for a solid ankle to press warmly against him instead. He twitched and rolled off his knees, opting to sit crosslegged.

Estenarven grinned and plunked his feet firmly in Mastekh’s lap, toes wriggling with happiness. “I thought we might clean out the elder’s cabin on the Skylark, scrub the boards, plump the cushions, clean the windows, that sort of thing.”

Mastekh stared down at the Boulderforce’s feet in confusion. He’d never really looked at someone else’s feet before – he barely paid attention to his own. Estenarven’s were long and dark, broad and strong, much like the rest of him. His toes were blunt and tipped with dark pewter claws. Mastekh wanted to touch them… which felt weird.

Was this the beginning of a foot fetish?

“I thought we might also move the walls a bit,” Estenarven continued, tipping his right foot sideways until rested on Mastekh’s thigh.

Mastekh twitched, hands on the floor behind himself, claws scratching lightly over stone.

“Maybe make a side room.” Estenarven flexed his foot, stroking Mastekh’s thigh.

It sent a tingle right through his whole body. It also tickled. He twitched again.

“Which I thought we might, um, share?”

Another rub, another tingle, more of a tickle.

Mastekh grabbed Estenarven’s foot and squeaked as the toes flexed against his palm, tickling even more over his sensitive. “S-stop!”

Grinning, Estenarven tried to pull his foot away, but Mastekh had hold of him now and turnabout was fair play.

Gripping the broad foot with one hand, he ran a claw softly down the centre.

Estenarven’s huffed out curse was drowned beneath the crash of the table as his long legs twitched and bashed the underside, making all the crockery rattle and almost upending the whole lot.

It was Mastekh’s turn to grin. A delighted giggle bubbled out of him as Estenarven successfully snatched his feet away to the safety of his side of the table, and Mastekh hugged his knees to his chest, rocking side to side with triumph.

“I think c-cleaning out the c-cabin is an excellent i-d-dea,” he chortled.

“And the side room?” Estenarven asked, scratching the bottom of his foot and trying to scowl but not quite managing as a smile kept escaping.

Mastekh blushed from his head to his toes, yet somehow managed not to look away. He stared deep into those laughing dark eyes and smiled. “I’d l-l-like that.”

“The perfect gift for both of us,” Estenarven agreed.

Even though Mastekh knew it wouldn’t count for either of their seven gifts, he dipped his head in an agreeing nod. After all, there could be no greater gift – in courtship or out – than the long term companionship of the dragon opposite him.

And just like that he knew what his third gift to Estenarven would be. Now all he had to do was arrange it.

Aw, that’s great Mastekh. Now tell me!
Seriously, I had a writing spurt and got four chapters done and I still have no idea.
But on the plus side, that’s another three weeks of updates done :)

Take care, my lovelies!

Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

A Courtship of Dragons: Part 13

Becca Lusher

courtship-banner

A Courtship of Dragons is a M/M Romance (it could be short, it could be a novella, it could be any size, I have no idea) told in short scenes, between two young dragons, Estenarven kin Boulderforce Clan Stoneheart and Mastekh kin Rainstorm Clan Flowflight. It’s pure fluff ‘n’ stuff and not intended to be anything other than that.

|| First Part || Last Part ||

Smooth, Esten, real smooth.

13
Smooth Awakening

ESTENARVEN WOKE SLOWLY, a feeling of great peace washing over him as he steadily rose back up towards consciousness. The pain and hammering of his overindulgence had faded and even the sour taste was gone from his mouth. He felt like a dragon again.

Yawning, he stretched, long and languid, revelling in the ability to spread out all his legs, though when he tried to flexed his tail it seemed to be stuck. And now that he thought about it, only one of his wings was moving.

He frowned at the discomfort and rolled onto his belly. His second wing was instantly free but hit a wall and his tail still wasn’t moving. Grumbling and muttering, he opened his eyes.

And blinked.

“Awake at last, are we?”

Elder Blazeborn sat in an armchair directly in front of Estenarven’s nose. If he’d stretched just a little further in his half-awake state he would have knocked him clean over. Hunching back in on himself, Estenarven drew in his neck, wings and tail.

At least he tried to move his tail.

Scowling, he looked over his shoulder and found the stupid appendage had somehow become coiled and wedged inside the little room he’d been given to stay in.

The room that was part of Elder Blazeborn’s larger suite.

The same suite he should have been taking care of today.

Belonging to the dragon he was supposed to work for, not snore in front of.

Wincing, Estenarven abandoned all attempts to free his crumpled tail and cringed before his elder. “Umm…”

Khennik wasn’t paying him the least bit of attention. An enormous book of maps lay open across his lap, the thick pages of which he turned with a delicate pinch of his golden claws before he spread a hand to flatten out the next picture in order to study it more closely.

Somehow that made everything worse. Here was Estenarven, sleeping the day away, while his elder was forced to entertain himself by studying maps. Not that there was anything wrong with maps, Estenarven had a deep fondness for them himself but…

Oh, what did it matter? He’d messed up, that was the important thing.

He flattened himself to the floor apologetically – and realised that there was something under his chin.

“As enjoyable as abject grovelling is,” Elder Blazeborn drawled, not looking up as he turned another page, “it’s probably best not to do it when Mastekh is under your chin. It rather spoils the look of the thing.”

“Mastekh!” Estenarven raised his head so high and fast that he cracked his horns against the ceiling.

Ow, ow, ow, ow. He might have slept off his pounding hangover, but by the Family, the lightning bolt that shot through his brain now was worse.

“Ow.”

The wheeze that echoed his thoughts had him looking down. Mastekh lay sprawled on the stone floor, flat on his back, a hand pressed against his diaphragm. He looked like he’d been crushed beneath a boulder.

Which, Estenarven conceded as he cautiously lowered his throbbing head, he had.

“I was going to ask if you’d both enjoyed your rest, but I can see the answer well enough for myself.” Elder Blazeborn slapped the heavy book closed and eyed the pair of them. One eyebrow arched as Estenarven curled a claw and hauled Mastekh into a sitting position. The Rainstorm wheezed and bent over, still struggling to get some air into his recently flattened lungs.

This was not how Estenarven imagined he would feel the first time he woke up with Mastekh beneath him.

“At least now that you’ve cleared the door I can finally go out and feed myself.”

Estenarven flinched at this further proof of his neglected duties, and really wished he hadn’t as it sent an answering jolt through his brain and his sore horns.

“I’ll bring you something back, shall I?” Elder Blazeborn smiled ever so slightly as he left his book of maps on the chair and sidled around Estenarven’s bulk to slip out of the door. “Play nicely while I’m gone.”

Estenarven huffed at the wall as the handle clicked shut. There wasn’t even an ounce of play left him right now and a quick glance downwards assured him that Mastekh was even less inclined towards such things.

The Rainstorm was on all fours, attempting to get to his feet, but either his legs were still asleep or Estenarven’s carelessness had knocked more out of him than he’d thought, because Mastekh didn’t get very far.

A quick lift of a foot prevented his fellow aide from landing flat on his face, and Estenarven decided to save Mastekh a lot of bother by picking him up and dumping him on Khennik’s vacated chair. The Rainstorm plopped down on top of the book of maps like a sack of vegetables, looking dazed and unaware of quite what was going on.

Worried about him, Estenarven finally hauled his tail free of his bedroom and shrank to a more manageable size. Crouching in front of Mastekh, he cupped his hands around his face and looked into his eyes.

Watery green-blue stared back, along with a rather soppy smile.

Sibling Stone, it was worse than he’d thought. He hadn’t just knocked the breath out of Mastekh, he’d clearly crushed his wits as well. “Can you stand?”

“Mm.” Mastekh moved forward, but seemed to forget to engage any part of his body in supporting himself. Luckily Estenarven was there to catch him. Mastekh sagged into his arms like a scarecrow missing his stick.

Which wasn’t the worst place he could land. In fact, Estenarven rather liked having his arms full of relaxed Rainstorm. Especially when he nuzzled into his neck like that.

“Mm dreaming,” Mastekh murmured, and Estenarven realised his fellow aide hadn’t really woken up yet. Despite being dropped on the floor, crushed by a Boulderforce and having all the air squashed out of him.

Apparently his Puddle was a heavy sleeper. Just one more thing he’d learnt about him that he hadn’t known before.

And the last thing he would ever take advantage of. Which was why he hauled himself to his feet and hefted Mastekh more securely into his arms. The Rainstorm mumbled something against his neck and snuggled closer, making Estenarven smile. One day he might have fun with this, but not today. Instead he carried his limp burden through the door on the far side of the suit and laid him very carefully down on the stone bed within. The covers had all been kicked off when Mastekh had risen that morning, so Estenarven gathered them up and tucked them all around his sleepy Puddle.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he ran a hand through Mastekh’s fluff of green hair. Turning into the caress, Mastekh wriggled until he was curled up around Estenarven, then heaved out a contented sigh. Estenarven knew just how he felt.

It was right to be here. Right to be next to this dragon. He didn’t want to leave.

He peered around Mastekh’s tiny, private quarters, unsurprised to find it as sparse and cheerless as his own cell on the other side of the suite. Except for the stone bowl on the narrow windowsill, positioned just right so that when Mastekh woke up it would be one of the first things he would see. A stone bowl full of water and containing a single straggly daisy.

The first courting gift. One that had been answered with rock cakes.

It was Estenarven’s move now. He thought back to the box he kept tucked beneath his bed. One that had followed him throughout his life, from his last few years as a dragonling, through his wingling century and onto the wandering ways of his change time. He ran mental fingers through its contents, assessing and discarding each item, until… He smiled.

Yes, that would do nicely.

But not yet. Estenarven looked down at the dragon curled on his side against him, his green hair soft as it slid between Estenarven’s blocky fingers.

No, not yet. He wanted to sit a while longer, enjoying this moment to the fullest. Elder Blazeborn would be back soon and Estenarven would pick up all his dropped and neglected duties, but not yet. Not just yet. He wanted to enjoy this peace for a little while longer, make the most of this gift he’d been given. He’d never seen Mastekh so relaxed and wondered when he’d have the chance to relish such a chance again. If he’d have the chance again. So he sat there, stroking Mastekh’s head, making plans and counting breaths.

Until Elder Blazeborn returned and Estenarven had to leave. But before he joined the elder at the low table, where he was spreading out the food a couple of draco servants had carried up for them all, Estenarven slipped into his own small room and pulled out the box from beneath the bed.

Promising the elder he would join him soon, he returned to Mastekh’s bedside, placed his latest gift on the windowsill beside the daisy, allowed himself one last stroke of his dear Puddle’s hair, then left and closed the door behind him. Mastekh had earned his rest, but Estenarven had apologies to issue and some making up to do.

With the dracos dismissed, Elder Blazeborn watched Estenarven cross the room and raised a golden eyebrow. “Well?”

Unsure quite what he was being asked, Estenarven lowered himself to sit cross-legged at the low table on the opposite to his elder and bowed his head. “All is well.”

The corner of Khennik’s mouth twitched. “Good. Now eat, before I devour the whole lot myself. You and Mastekh have been blocking the door since breakfast. I can’t remember the last time I felt so famished.”

The last tension in Estenarven’s shoulders relaxed and he grinned at his elder in relief. “Shouldn’t we save something for Mastekh?” he asked, even as he picked up a whole chicken for himself. Now that his hangover was gone and his head and horns were no longer hurting so badly, Estenarven realised he was starving too – and with so much food in front of him, it would be rude to feel otherwise.

“No,” Khennik replied, piling his own plate high with pastries and pies and the occasional piece of fruit. “If he wants some, he’ll have to claim it for himself.”

And even though he was courting the dragon’s heart, Estenarven shrugged in agreement. After all, love and romance were all very well in their own way, but he hadn’t eaten anything since the night before. At times like this, it was every dragon’s stomach for itself.

Especially at a time like this, when the pastries were divine and Elder Blazeborn had almost eaten the lot. Resisting the urge to growl at the other dragon – barely – Estenarven snatched two of the last three for himself and hunched over his plate to protect it from the long arm of the elder.

Rolling his eyes, Khennik moved on to the last of the tarts and Estenarven forgot all thoughts of Mastekh in a bid to claim his fair share of the feast. He had to keep up his strength, after all, and there was a lot of him to feed. Slapping Khennik’s grabby hands away from the bread basket, Estenarven seized his share of the rolls and swept the jam and butter dish into his temporary protection.

Elder Blazeborn glared at him over the table before picking up the platter of doelyn slices and slowly placing it on the floor beside himself.

Estenarven narrowed his eyes. So it was to be like that, was it? He reached for the quail eggs and let battle commence.

Who knew Khennik had a playful side?

Anyway, more next Wednesday.
And you may be pleased to know that I’ve finally worked out something of a plot for this thing. Which means I might finally get an idea of how long it’ll be. I would say this is about halfway, but until I write the next few chapters I won’t know.

Regardless, this is finally getting somewhere. Hurrah!

Take care, my lovelies.

Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

A Courtship of Dragons: Part 12

Becca Lusher

courtship-banner

A Courtship of Dragons is a M/M Romance (it could be short, it could be a novella, it could be any size, I have no idea) told in short scenes, between two young dragons, Estenarven kin Boulderforce Clan Stoneheart and Mastekh kin Rainstorm Clan Flowflight. It’s pure fluff ‘n’ stuff and not intended to be anything other than that.

|| First Part || Last Part ||

In which Khennik proves yet again that actions speak louder than grumpy reputations.

12
Sigh

IT WAS TOO QUIET. Khennik had worked hard deep into the afternoon, forcing himself to finish his hated report, determined not to let anything distract him. Nothing had.

Which was most unusual.

Standing up from his desk, he stretched out the aches and kinks from his body and glanced down in surprise as his stomach rumbled. He was hungry. He’d almost forgotten what that felt like. Whatever else Mastekh’s faults may be – and they were legion – his aide always made sure Khennik had food, whether he wanted it or not.

Yet here he stood inside his own suite with a belly growling from hunger. Most unusual indeed.

Frowning, Khennik rolled his shoulders as he crossed his bedroom, ready to unravel this latest mystery.

A dragon lay snoring in the main room. No, not just any dragon: Estenarven.

Big and bulky and grey, the Boulderforce lay stretched out across the entire front half of the room, completely blocking the door, his bulk extending from one wall all the way to the other. Resting halfway between his right side and his back, one wing trailed limply across his shoulder and the other was probably crumpled between him – explaining his in-between position.

With his head completely upside down, the end of his nose poking into Mastekh’s bedroom, the Boulderforce huffed and wheezed and sounded rather less than comfortable.

Khennik clenched his jaw. Well, this surely explained why he hadn’t been interrupted or fed all day. With Estenarven blocking the door, there was no possible way for anyone to leave or enter the suite. Poor Mastekh was probably cowering in his room, wondering how best to evict this invading monster who was holding him back from all his duties. Blasted Boulderforce! If he hadn’t drunk so much the night before he wouldn’t still be sleeping it off now, well into the next afternoon.

If his behaviour had unsettled Mastekh in any way, Khennik would –

He blinked.

At some point during his internal tirade, he’d begun marching across the suite, dodging around seating clusters and travel chests, aiming for Estenarven’s head and the ears into which he intended to roar.

Until he rounded the edge of Estenarven’s wing and saw the Boulderforce’s front paws for the first time. And what they cradled gently inside them.

Mastekh. Estenarven had fallen asleep with Mastekh. The Boulderforce was cuddling the Rainstorm like a toy. And the Rainstorm lay limp and smiling as if he was entirely at peace with the situation.

Well.

Khennik rubbed a hand over his bald head, uncertain quite how to feel about this change of events. After all, he could hardly be angry with Estenarven for unsettling Mastekh when Mastekh seemed more than happy with everything. He certainly couldn’t scold the Boulderforce for invading the Rainstorm’s room when the pair of them were sleeping together.

Nor could he get angry over having the entranceway blocked, since the only people Khennik was willing to see on a daily basis were already inside.

Nor could he be annoyed about feeling hungry, since he was constantly trying to get Mastekh to stop fussing over him, assuring his aide that he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself if necessary.

Hm.

Khennik eyed his slumbering aides, unable to deny how contented the pair of them seemed. It made warmth kindle inside his own chest and Khennik rubbed suspiciously at it.

Estenarven heaved a huge sigh and rolled onto his side, curling around until his head rested alongside Mastekh. The Rainstorm stirred just enough to tuck his head under the Boulderforce’s neck, and the pair slept on oblivious.

Khennik ran a hand over his head and rubbed at his chest again. Then he snorted, shook his head and turned around.

Let them sleep. Peace was hard to come by these days, ever since he’d left his desert homelands and especially since he’d been assigned to the human delegation.

Yes, let his noisy, disruptive, ridiculous aides sleep, just so long as they kept blocking the door and keeping the outside world at bay. Khennik could survive being hungry for a little while yet.

In fact, now that his report was finished and no one had succeeded in breaking down his door, Khennik decided to follow his aides’ example. Shutting the door to his bedroom, he shoved his desk and papers safely out of the way, then gave into the urge to release his own true form. He might not have had enough room to sprawl inelegantly from one wall to the other, as Estenarven had done, but there was space to spare to stretch his wings, just so long as he curled himself up first.

Doing just that, Khennik flexed his wings, yawned and settled down for a deliciously unplanned afternoon nap.

More next Wednesday. Hopefully. I need to write it first.
While I’m at it, I guess I should look for an actual plot, but where would be the fun in that?

Take care, my lovelies!

Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

A Courtship of Dragons: Part 8

Becca Lusher

courtship-banner

A Courtship of Dragons is a M/M Romance (it could be short, it could be a novella, it could be any size, I have no idea) told in short scenes, between two young dragons, Estenarven kin Boulderforce Clan Stoneheart and Mastekh kin Rainstorm Clan Flowflight. It’s pure fluff ‘n’ stuff and not intended to be anything other than that.

|| Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 ||

In which Khennik says something innocuous and the expected happens.


8
Tea

SOMEONE WAS HUMMING. Elder Khennik kin Blazeborn Clan Sunlord frowned down at his desk and the report he was supposed to be writing to his Clan elder. The suite was too quiet, magnifying the clatter of hailstones against the windows and the shudder of the window as it whistled around the tower. Lightning flickered and thunder snarled. Khennik attempted to ignore it all as he hunched over his desk beside the fire on the opposite side of the room. Usually the crackle, pop and hiss of the flames would be enough to settle him, but it was early and he was tired after a late night.

And now someone was humming.

Sighing, he dropped his quill and rubbed his eyes as the main door to the suite opened, admitting the hummer with his tray of tea.

Mastekh.

Khennik’s eyebrows rose in surprise and he rested his chin on his hand, watching his usually anxious aide back into the room before turning and closing the door with his heel. Humming.

Mastekh didn’t hum. In fact, his Rainstorm aide rarely made any sound at all, except for squeaks and the occasional stuttered sentence. Not that he was a quiet or restful presence. Mastekh might not have used his voice all that often, but his emotions were often loud. Trembling, shuffling, jittering, wringing his hands, lurking in the background, trying to be unobtrusive and always failing. It had driven Khennik distracted when they’d first been assigned to each other. However, he’d grown used to it over time and occasionally missed Mastekh when he wasn’t in the room.

Khennik wouldn’t have said he was fond of humming, especially wordless tunes that bubbled and rambled without any form or reason, but it was an interesting change. He was almost certain he knew what had put that small smile on his younger aide’s face too.

“Oh. Elder B-Blazeborn. You’re aw-w-wake.”

The happy hum faded, but Khennik was surprised to see the smile remained. Mastekh didn’t smile at him, he was usually too worried or anxious to please, holding himself tense as if always ready for a reprimand or a blow. Khennik tried not to ever give the former and he would never use the latter. The mere prospect of being mistaken for such a thuggish bully had made him often moody and equally tense at first, until he realised that the only way Mastekh would relax was if he relaxed first. So mostly Khennik attempted to ignore his aide, and Mastekh seemed happiest that way.

Not this morning. This morning he seemed prepared for conversation, so Khennik cleared a space on his desk for the tea tray and nodded congenially. “Good morning. I trust you slept well.”

Mastekh bobbed his head in agreement, placing the tray on the table with a lot less clatter and rattling than usual. There weren’t any stray water drops either. Progress.

“Estenarven is still in bed, I take it?” Khennik asked as Mastekh began pouring the tea.

“B-beg p-p-pardon?” Mastekh jumped, sending hot water all over the stone tray and across the desk. “Oh, no!” he wailed, dropping the tea pot with a clatter and flapping over the spilled liquid.

Sighing, Khennik rescued his most important papers and stood before the tea reached the edge of the table and dripped into his lap. “It’s all right, Mastekh. No harm done.” After all, this wouldn’t be the first time Mastekh had almost dumped a pot of tea all over him – nor the second. A part of Khennik had leant to be perpetually wary whenever it came to his aide holding anything in his vicinity, though he had hoped the humming and smiles would herald a new era in their working relationship.

No such luck. One offhand question and his aide had collapsed back into a bubbling, anxious, apologetic mess and Khennik could feel all his old irritations rising. He tried not to get angry, because he knew Mastekh couldn’t help being the way he was, but it was frustrating.

One tiny tiptoe forward, a massive leap back. That was how things seemed destined to always be between them.

“I’ll finish this in my room,” he said, unable to hold back a sigh as he gathered the rest of things into his arms and shook tea from the end of his quill pen.

“I’m s-s-so s-s-s-sorry, eld-d-der,” Mastekh whimpered, patting the desk with his palm and leaving dry stone behind. His hand had darkened to the shade of ginger tea.

The sight reminded Khennik of how thirsty he was, so he piled his things on his dry chair and quickly poured himself a cup with what little liquid was left. Mm, spicy. “It’s all right, Mastekh,” he murmured again, retrieving his things and sipping from his cup. “These things happen, and there was no harm done.”

Mastekh hung his head pitifully. Khennik considered reaching out and patting the young Rainstorm’s shoulder, but he wasn’t a particularly tactile dragon and the last thing he wanted was to make Mastekh recoil. There relationship was shaky enough as it was.

So he contented himself with another sigh – mostly filled with bafflement over what his young aide needed from him – then retreated back into his room. It would probably be safer for all involved if he just stayed there until the Storm Season passed and the Skylark sailed onwards again.

“I’ll be in my room if anyone needs me,” he said over his shoulder, then shoved the door shut with his heel.

What a day, and it wasn’t even midmorning yet.

More next Monday.

Take care, my lovelies!

A Bit of Me, Overworld, Updates, Writing

NaNo Report: Final Thoughts

Becca Lusher

Well, I did it. Cloud Cursed was wrapped up by Day 19, which left me free all last week to pursue other things. In the meantime I also managed to pass 10,000 words on A Courtship of Dragons, taking my November total over 100,000.

So what has NaNo taught me this year? Not a lot really, since I’ve always been lucky enough to be able to throw a lot of words out if I have a chance to put in the effort. It’s still nice to know I can complete a challenge when I set one, though.

Am I glad I did it? Yep, because now I’m one book deeper into the Dragonlands series and have plenty of ideas to keep carrying me forward. This book also brought out the overarching plotline and coalesced a few nebulous ideas, which is always nice. I don’t know how concrete they’ll prove to be going forward (spontaneous dragons and all), but having the daily word count chasing me meant I kept writing when I might otherwise have taken a few days out to think things over and lost the momentum.

I also didn’t go completely crazy over the last few days. Well, relatively speaking. I wrote as much from Day 13-19 as I’d written up to that point, doubling my word count in a week. But this isn’t unheard of for me when I get my teeth into something, and I didn’t have any 10,000+ days, so I didn’t lose my head completely. Which I’d count as a success judging by my output in previous NaNo attempts.

Overall I’d call this a success. I hit my goals and didn’t keel over from exhaustion or pressure. I started and finished the book I wanted to and also managed to start something else along the way, regardless of world events, boiler breakdowns and other unexpected drains on my time, energy and brain space.

So thanks, NaNo 2016. You were tough, but we made it and maybe I’ll play properly next year.

To finish, here’s the final Snippet List of Progress:

DAY SEVENTEEN
Cloud Cursed Ch 19

ANHARDYNE WAS FED up of stairs. For creatures who could transform into thirty to forty foot beast and fly every which way they pleased, dragons built far too many stairs.

– Anhardyne, Chapter 19

Something long and smooth brushed over his wings and Estenarven spun, snarling.

– Estenarven, Chapter 19

Day 17 – 4942 words
Overall – 73,234 words

DAY EIGHTEEN
Cloud Cursed Ch 20+21

Without a word, Khennik assumed his dragon shape and curled his longer form around the front half of Estenarven, covering the young dragon with a shimmering bronze and gold wing.

– Khennik, Chapter 20

“We rarely get what we deserve,” Goryal said gently. “Although sometimes, if we are lucky enough, we get what we need.” They opened their clasped hands and the scent of tea filled the air. “Drink?”

– Goryal, Chapter 21

Day 18 – 7804 words
Overall – 81,038 words

DAY NINETEEN
Cloud Cursed Ch 22 – 25

“Have faith in yourself. Trust your strength. We are with you.”

– Khennik, Chapter 22

Maegla, it was beautiful.

– Nera, Chapter 23

Tempting though it was to tell the elder to buzz off – rainbow sparkles optional – they were still a powerful, influential dragon and she didn’t think either her captain or the ambassador would be pleased if she somehow offended Goryal. Not that Goryal was easy to offend, but it would be just her luck if she managed it nevertheless.

– Anhardyne, Chapter 24

“What happens now?”

– Reglian, Chapter 25

Day 19 – 8880 words
Overall – 89,218 words

THE END!

Now that that’s over with, I suppose I should return to working on Storm Rising and get that ready for release in the new year. I would much rather get working on book 4 (Burning Sands), but if I just keep writing without releasing things I think people might get fed up of hearing me talking about them.

So next on the list will be Storm Rising edits. Rift Riders has about nine more weeks of scheduled updates to go, then I’ll be prepping that one for release too before deciding what to do about book 3 in both series. Woven in amongst all of this I’ll also continue to work on A Courtship of Dragons, because there will never be too much fluffy dragon romance in the world and writing Esten and Mastekh is pure brain candy for me.

All in all, business as usual. Much writing has been done, too much editing remains and books will appear as and when I can get them ready.

Farewell, November, thanks for the words. To my fellow NaNo participants out there, congratulations! I hope you made it to the end, or if not, then you’re at least happy with what you achieve. If (again) not, well, I guess there’s always next year. I’ll see you then.

In the meantime, take care, my lovelies!

A Bit of Me, Overworld, Updates, Writing

NaNo Report, Part 3

Becca Lusher

Things have really started picking up, plot-wise and with the word count, over the last few days. Which is good, because thanks to the boiler breakdown last week and the three days of repairs, my writing schedule was rather disrupted.

I’ve also found out that next week is going to be a bit of a mess writing-wise too. Why does this only ever happen in my NaNo years? In the non-NaNo years November is dull and empty, but as soon as I commit to something, quick, quick, we demand your time elsewhere! This isn’t really a complaint, just a general expression of bafflement.

Anyway, I’m hoping to get the book finished this week. I’m not sure if I’ll quite manage it, depends on how much brain power I have left and how many random directions my spontaneous dragons can erupt in. I can always tell when I’m getting worn out, though, because my characters start to swear a lot. Normally I only let them swear to make a dramatic point, but the f-word is creeping in all over the place lately. This usually shows I’m too busy (or lazy) to think of something better, but at the moment I just sort of stare blankly at the screen for a few minutes, then shrug and move on. So that’ll be fun to edit later.

I’m also having more trouble picking snippets to share without spoilers. Then again, I’m also struggling to figure out if they’re actually spoilers or not when no one knows anything else leading up to this point over the last two books. I’m trying to avoid them nonetheless.

Now all I have to do is gather up all my trailing threads and try to weave them into a coherent ending. In three days. Wish me luck!

Oh, and because of all the above blathering, I haven’t had much time to spare for Courtship. I’ll try and squeeze a few lines out tomorrow, but I’d kind of like to get Cloud Cursed over and done while I have time. Then I’ll have more time to play. I’m looking forward to it. (Although I’m now full of ideas for Book 4 and would love to write that straight after this. I should probably edit No.2 and release it first. Being an indie author is no fun sometimes ;)

In the meantime, here’s the Snippet List of Progress!

DAY ELEVEN
Lost to the continuing Saga of the Boiler.

DAY TWELVE
Cloud Cursed Ch 12

It wasn’t funny and it wasn’t clever. Someone could get hurt – and probably would once Khennik finally tracked down those responsible.

– Khennik, Chapter 12

Day 12 – 3468
Overall – 45, 001

DAY THIRTEEN
Catching up on other things.

DAY FOURTEEN
Cloud Cursed Ch 13+14

“Shut up and hand me that naked dragon.”

– *Spoilers* (It’s probably not, I’m just mean), Chapter 13

“You Riders do make life interesting.”

– Korija, Chapter 14

Day 14 – 6538 words
Overall – 51, 539 words

DAY FIFTEEN
Cloud Cursed Ch 15+16

It was all Estenarven’s fault.

– Khennik, Chapter 15

He used to play with the hummingbirds when he was a dragonling, creeping through the lush forest groves, enchanted by their jewel-bright feathers and their tiny forms. They had been beautiful, so beautiful.

– Mastekh, Chapter 16

Day 15 – 8151 words
Overall – 59,690 words

DAY SIXTEEN
Cloud Cursed Ch 17+18

Footwear was a serious liability.

– Khennik, Chapter 17

“Ow,” the Rider complained, squirming against his grip. “I was only joking. Gods, you dragons have no sense of humour.”

– Vish, Chapter 18

Day 16 – 8602 words
Overall – 68,292 words

68292 / 80000 words. 85% done!

So close now!

At least, I hope I am, because with where everything ended today I could either wrap the whole thing up in another three chapters, or it could be double that and more. I’m hoping to land somewhere in the middle, but I guess I will have to wait and see.

To all my fellow NaNo participants, hope you’re still on tracking and kicking your word count where it, uh, counts.

And to everyone else, I hope all is well or as good as can be expected.

Take care, my lovelies!

A Bit of Me, Overworld, Updates, Writing

NaNo Report, Part 2

Becca Lusher

I’m not sure this whole catch up with NaNo on a Wednesday thing is going to work. Thus far I’m not doing too well at it, but as long as I’m still writing I guess that’s the important thing. I would say I’ll move this to Thursday now, but if I do something else will break or explode or just happen along to distr-

Oh look, the kraken is picking up its squidlings from school!

Never mind.

Anyway, this week in the NaNo tally, things have been chugging along quite nicely. All the plots I had for this book have gone missing and I’ve gone off in another weird direction. I’m sort of hoping one or two of them might come back, but not confident. My dragons are spontaneous and resent forward planning.

I’m kicking the word count where it matters though, which is nice. Especially since all my plans yesterday went out the window. Not that I’m complaining, because in the scheme of everything, my NaNo goals are not important. But since my boiler is still broken and I spent most of today waiting for the engineer to come fix it (he’s here now), I caught up on my word count and Cloud Cursed at least is back on track. As far as I know, but see spontaneous dragons for why this may not be true.

I also have something extra to share, but I’ll talk about that at the end of the post.

Now onto the Weekly Progress-O-Meter of Snippets (no spoilers)!

DAY FOUR
Cloud Cursed Ch 5+6

“There are others here that are not so friendly towards my Clan.”
“That’s because your Clan is populated by idiots.”

– Leasang, Chapter 5

“I’m so pleased you picked such a comfortable spot. Wouldn’t it be terrible to find somewhere where there weren’t barbs and shards sticking in my feet? No, no, don’t get off, I can bear your weight just fine.”

– Teka, Chapter 5

Day 4 – 6763 words
Overall – 21,001 words

DAY FIVE and SIX

Nothing. My weekend was gobbled up by other things.

DAY SEVEN
Cloud Cursed Ch 7

“Father Sun, this trip was making him lose his mind. This was why he didn’t have friends.”

– Khennik, Chapter 7

Day 7 – 4888 words
Overall – 25, 889 words

DAY EIGHT
Cloud Cursed Ch 8

“We will never be friends, you and I.”

– Khennik, Chapter 8

Day 8 – 4618 words
Overall – 30, 507 words

DAY NINE
Cloud Cursed Ch 9

“Ready?” Nera asked.
He grinned. “Ready.”
The lieutenant gave a sharp whistle, waving her arm to get her flurry lined up behind her, and grinned back. “Then let’s go!”

– Estenarven, Chapter 9

Day 9 – 2986 words
Overall – 33, 495 words

DAY TEN
Cloud Cursed Ch 10+11

“I’m really not sure about this, Tek,” she admitted, leaning forward to smooth a hand down her bonded’s neck.

– Nera, Chapter 10

“I bloody hate ancient second-generation runes. And poetry. Why did they always use poetry? Father Sun, it might as well be gibberish.”

– Khennik, Chapter 11

Day 10 – 8038 words
Overall – 41, 533 words

41533 / 80000 words. 52% done!

Woo – and if I may be so bold as to add – hoo!

Now, on to the non-NaNo Thing that has grown out of hazy idea I had bumbling around in the back of my brain, but mostly as a response to everything that’s going on right now.

I had considered making it a novella, however, instead it looks like it might turn into something else. I don’t know how long it will be, I don’t really know where it’s going. All I know is that it’ll be a completely fluffy piece of M/M dragon romance told scene by scene.

I wrote the first one today. I’ll write the second one tomorrow. I’ll try and write a little more every day and post it around the Rift and NaNo updates. So look out on Saturday for the first scene – perhaps even the first two scenes. I would say three, but that’ll be a fine way to ensure I never write anything on it again.

It’s called A Courtship of Dragons and it’s from the Dragonlands series, fitting neatly in between the end of Blazing Dawn and the start of Storm Rising. It’s about Mastekh and Estenarven, in case you were wondering and hadn’t quite guessed yet. It will probably also contain Rift Riders, miryhls and other sundry characters, since it’s all one Overworld.

I guess I’ll find out as I go along.

There was a flower on his bed.

– Mastekh, Scene 1

No, you’re not getting any more. It’s less than 300 words long at the moment. Come back on Saturday.

In the meantime, love and good thoughts and hope and support to you all.