tickety_boo: (billygrin)
2010-11-07 10:53 am
Entry tags:

writing sample

(this is a post from the prior game I'd been playing Dugan in. It's out of context, so it won't make much sense on it's own, but it's a sample of my writing and of the character himself.

(And it's over 300 words long, which was the other reason I chose it.)

"Dealin' with demons only gets ye into trouble." In the lavatory? He'd have trouble going for a while, his imagination all too vivid for comfort. Now that he had their book... "Though I dinnae how much I'd be able to avoid 'em if ye say it's where you got it." The book made his nerves tingle in the worst way, moreso than the ones he surrounded himself with. He'd grown accustomed to the itch and the vague burning he felt, even through his gloves and clothing.

When he'd first rested his hand on the page, he felt nothing but the usual sting, but it grew quickly to a gnawing pain. William jerked his hand back from the feeling, a thousand tiny mouths with sharp teeth nibbling at his skin. What was this thing?

"I... dinnae know that going north will be much of a boon if they're going t'kill us all." If that was going to happen to begin with. But William has always taken about half of what Elsbeth said with a grain of salt. The other half, he's put to more-or-less not something to ignore. The problem was, finding which half was which. "Mebbe they're going to burn the millenium dome, that hideous monstrosity." He had meant it to be humorous, but it fell dreadfully flat.

He leaned over. The smell was more than fish, an odor of something dark and lumpy and hungry. It crawled up his nose and coiled around his brain, giving him the beginnings of a colossal headache. It pulled at it, deep to the potent energy locked up there. It wasn't the language that was familiar, but the way it was written. It stunk of riddles.

Perhaps it was best kept in his hands, as long as it took to figure out what it was, what it might mean.

"How much time d'ye think we have, milady?"