NaNo day 7

Et je continue sur ma lancée ! Je suis toujours un peu en avance (ce qui est cool, vu que mon taff ne m’a pas calé une, mais deux formations d’une semaine à la fin du mois et qu’il faudrait que je me booste un peu avant ça). Quelques nouveaux petits extraits (vous pardonnerez les fautes de frappe et les fautes d’anglais, ce n’est bien sûr pas relu) :

Extraits du chapitre 2 : The rebellious princess syndrom

She is followed by a medium-built man with a moustache. There is no word to describe its thin cut, the way it goes back up at the ends, except, maybe, ridiculous. Over-the-top. Unnecessary. Maybe there are words, after all.

Extraits du chapitre 3 : The things I do for love

Probably sounding like a five-year-old—but at that point, I don’t care anymore—I ask him: “When do we get there?”
I shall not whine.

Have you ever walked in a swamp? Well, it is wet and damp. You don’t see through the stagnant water where your feet will end up and every step you take on something that looks like ground is a relief. At one point, I put my foot on a deadwood branch, which starts moving. Okay, so not a deadwood branch. The alligator jumps at me and I step back as a reflex. It takes me a second to call to the power of the words (swiftness, courage, strength) and I take the sword at my side. When not in use, Fay swords only have a handle and the blade only appears when you call on its name, which I do: “Sting!”—yes, I know, I’m such a geek.
I call my other sword’s name, Needle—yep, still geeky—, and reinforce it with more words.

The next day, he wakes me up and says: “We shall arrive today.” Good. I have enough of the swamp, the odours and the local fauna. I hope that the Dagda lives in a palace. I really do.
But of course, it could not have been that easy. The point on the map marks what looks like a cabin made of mud applied on the mangrove and covered with leaves.

I finally see him, in the darkest corner of the room, and start to realise what Niamh meant by “he is a strange man.” He is taller than me, but so thin he looks famished. His skin, much like Hadi’s, has been burnt too many times by the sun and looks like leather. His hair and beard probably haven’t been cut during the last century or so, and he looks more like the image I have of Robinson Crusoe than the God who stopped the sun from setting for nine months. He stands up and as I raise my eyes to meet his, I realise how tall he really is. “Are you the Dagda?” I ask, my voice shaking.
“Depends who’s askin’. But fo’ you, child, I is.”

“I knows why yer here, child. And I can help you.” I feel relief filling me. Oberon was wrong, there is someone who can help me. “But you’ve to show me you’re worth.” If he wasn’t living in the most recluse swamp in the Sidhe, I would have said that this man had seen the Star Wars movie one time too many and thought himself to be Yoda.

The Dagda, no matter what kind of God he is, is a big fat liar. And a lazy one, with that.

“The… what?” Where are you, wit and eloquence? Where have you gone when I need the both of you the most?

While I serve the tea, he looks in the pockets of his evening suit and finally gets a hip flask, that he gives me in exchange for his teacup.
“That is the answer to your question, child.”
“This will really heal Sam?”
“Sam? Heal? What are you talking about?”
There might have been a slight misunderstanding between us.
“If this shan’t heal Sam, what is it for?”
“Helping you choosing a world.” My eyes blink quickly. I seriously don’t understand. Why does everyone want me to pick a world? I am perfectly happy the way I live.

Holy horseshoe, Batman! I, Valerie Stark, goddaughter of Arthur Pendragon, King of Avalon, and the Lady Niamh, am going to steal the Grail.

“My Lady, you look like you have been through a lot these past few days. May I call Paige to help you to your room, before disturbing Lady Niamh?” But before I can take him up on his offer, my Godmother appears behind him and screams at the mere sight of me. Finally, she stops. “You look like you are in need of a bath,” she says, before turning her back.

“Call me a coward if you ought to, but I shan’t be a part of this plan. You may not have much to lose, but I walk on the side of the law too much already and I cannot lose the little I have, even for you.”
“Coward,” I say, half laughing. I know that when the time comes, he shall help me. He shall even correct my plan and make it actually work. We have stolen together before, it shan’t be the first time, even though our most heinous crimes were committed against candies.

“So, where have you been?”
“Here and there. Well, there, really. Deisceart, in the Far South. I fought an alligator and climbed a tree.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s not all you’ve done. What happened to you?”
“Long story short, I met with an ancient God who was supposed to have passed away thousands of years ago and was not really a God but simply a Fay, and after making me stupid stunts, he told me that there is only one way to heal Sam.”

“I will do it. For you, I would do anything.” Well, almost everything. Apparently, I am not killing any innocent guide for her in the near future.

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