~~Monday, July 26, 2004~~
~10:53 p.m.~
Right, so, havn't updated in a while.

I've just been working a lot, as usual. In penance, I have some updates: Swordbearer should be updated either tonight or tomorrow night, and Evitra has sent me lovely Kouga fanart for "Wolf"

Rehearsals for the movie are going well, I think, and it was really nice seeign everyone last night, even if the Fantasia party was kind of a bust.

And woot, Highland Games weekend coming up!

I also worked for about seven hours on my novel tonight, which is sort of a record lately. Got a lot of stuff organized and a lot of doubles of stuff deleted. So I'm at about 240 pages right now, even though I added a whole ton tonight.

Trin, if you're out there, I really need to RP with you again sometime to get soem more stuff with Hemaka down - I almost forget who he is, it's been so long. And Das too.

Anyway, because I feel guilty for not sharing more of my novel and for not updating for so long: Excerpt!



From Chapter Twenty-Six, "The Bastard Maker"

When Felix awoke, his head was throbbing.

He sat up, the heel of his palms pressed against his eyelids, willing the world to remain still. Too much of that delicious fermented drink these people have - too much beer, he thought, and groaned. He put out a hand, expecting to feel hard gravel beneath him. Surely he had been left to sleep in the street. He was only mildly shocked to feel soft, smooth fabric under his slim questing fingers.

“Softly,” a female voice said into his ear, and he jumped. His grey eyes flew open and he yipped slightly in terror. “Fear me not, for I am of you kin,” she said quickly and Felix nodded, swallowing his terror.

He did not know where he was - worse, he did not remember how he had got here.

The room was opulent. Marble floors and walls, and a domed ceilings, all clean and tasteful, marked by golden wall sconces and partially covered by gauzy coloured hangings that ruffled in a gentle breeze which slipped in through wide open windows that revealed night-time skies.

He was lying on a pile of the thickest, most ornate pillows he had ever seen and was, to his own horror, completely naked save for a thin skirt of white linen.

The woman before him was in the full bloom of young womanhood, her hips curved and her breasts high and round, her silhouette partially revealed through a full-body lavender wrap that was just as thin as his own garment. At her throat glittered a wide torque of gold, lapis lazuli and ruby, the design like that of a great falcon whose outstretched wings bent gracefully around her slender neck to clasp behind her nape. On her fingers were several bands of gold, and in her ears hung great medallions of it.

The gold and the indigo dye of her garments betrayed her obvious wealth. Even Felix’s father, a great chieftan, had less indigo and gold in his coffers than this woman so casually wore.

Her eyes were the most arresting feature. Set above full, rosy cheeks and gracefully curving eyebrows, they were the bluest blue Felix had ever seen. Her lips were stained a soft red, as if she had been feasting on the juices of berries and they had left their delicate colour behind to grace her with the illusion of kiss-swollen pouts.

Hair that shone like fire in the torchlight flowed over her shoulders, the ends curling around her breasts and caressing the top of her buttocks.

Felix found himself breathless.

“I am the Nephtys,” the red-haired woman said as she straightened to stand over him, her voice clear and high. Felix felt as if his palms and thighs had grown roots and he had been lodged on the pillows like a great, unmoving tree. “The sister-goddess of Isis, creator, and servant of Osiris, He Who is Lord of Kemet.”

“The ... Nephtys,” Felix repeated uncertainly, unnerved by the blueness of her unblinking eyes. “I am... unfamiliar with this title.”

The woman frowned slightly. “You are unfamiliar? Yet you speak the same tongue as I. How is it that you do not know my name, nor our Master’s?”

“I have learned your tongue,” Felix admitted, forcing himself to his feet. This was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen in his life - damned if he was going to sit on his rear and let this little fish slip through his nets. “It was a hard study, but I have a gift for words.” He made a flippant gesture with his wrist with one hand as the other reached out to take the lady’s. “I am a gifted scribe, and I am writing the history of the world - My name is Felix, my dear, and I am very gladly--”

“Do not presume to touch me,” the lady hissed coldly and Felix jerked his hand away, stung.

“Presume?” he question with an upraised eyebrow and a roguish tilt of his head. “Where I am from, it is custom for a man to kiss a woman upon greeting. Am I not a man? And are you not a woman?”

The lady smiled wryly. “I am not a woman. Nor are you a man.”

Felix’s own smile faltered. “What mean you?”

The lady sighed. “You have forgotten - it will return to you.”

“Forgotten what? What do you mean, you are no lady and I no man?”

“I am not a woman. I am a Goddess.”

Felix paused and took a contemplative breath, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “And I suppose then, that makes me a Go - ouch!” He opened his mouth quickly and spat blood on the marble at his feet. “I’ve bitten myself! How by Toutatis have I done that?”

The lady cast her eyes to the floor, where the pool of blood lay splattered. “Better to ask by Ra, for he now holds your fate in your hands. He and ... and our Master.”

Felix stuck two fingers in his mouth and probed his wound, then stared at the blood on his hand when he withdrew them. “I have no master but myself,” he said dismissively.

“You have much to learn, Horus.”

Felix raised his eyes to the lady. “Horus? I’ve already said, my name is Felix. Come, let me give you an introduction you’ll remember.” He reached out and wrapped his long fingers around her waist and pulled her body close to his.

Her eyebrows shot upwards as his lips descended on hers.

When she parted her lips to utter a gasp of surprise he took the opportunity to slip his tongue inside her mouth. He was rewarded by her teeth clamping shut tightly on his tongue.

“By the gods, woman, what’s wrong with you!” he snapped as he shoved her away, cupping a hand underneath his chin to keep his front from getting spattered with the dripping gore.

“I am not for you,” she said in venomous tones, and licked the dots of his blood from her lips. He watched with rising gorge as she swallowed them. “Stop holding your face like a fool - the cuts are already gone.”

Felix looked down at his hand - it was true, there was no more blood pooling in his palm. He’d stopped bleeding. “But... but how?”

The lady stepped forward and lifted his full hand to her lips. He felt the colour drain from his face as she drank. His eyes were wide when she finally met his gaze. “You are no longer human, Felix the Scribe. You are as I am - Horus. You live as I do: shying from the sun, hungering for the blood, seeing and hearing, tasting and smelling what no living person can.”

“No.” He backed away from her, shaking his head. “No.”

“You know already, do you not?” She advanced on him, until he had backed himself up against the wall beside the window. “Do you see the stars? How they shine like a thousand small suns? Can you smell the Nile on the wind? Can you smell the life in it? Can you hear it?”

“No,” Felix said again, eyes shut tightly. His voice grew desperate as he tried to deny this new knowledge. “No!”

“Do you hunger, Horus?” He felt her lips brush the skin under his ear. “You heart no longer beats, but there is still blood in your throat. Do you remember His touch?”

“NO!”

Felix thrust out blindly, shoving the lady away from himself, sending her onto the floor. Then he stared at his own pale hands in horror - how had he gotten so strong? She took her time getting up, making a show of proving that she was not injured.

“No,” he whispered again. “No I... I am not... I will not...” he squeezed his eyes shut and clapped his hands over his ears. “I will not believe you.”

“If you do not wish to believe me, then believe yourself,” she said slowly. “Bite the top of your hand.”

Felix, unsure and scared, obeyed. He was startled to feel the two sharp razors slide into his skin. He withdrew and watched with horror as the wounds on his hand healed immediately, leaving only the meager blood that had spilled as proof that he had even been hurt. He looked up at the lady to find her baring wolfish fangs at him.

“You are as I am. Horus.”

“No,” Felix said again, clamping his hands over his ears once more. “No!”

“Deny it all you like,” she shrugged and turned on her heel. “It will not change the truth.” She moved towards the door and Felix cried out:

“Wait! Please! Do not leave me!”

She paused and looked at him over her shoulder. “The Master comes. You will remember.”

“Do not leave me,” he repeated. “I do not wish to remember.”

She closed her eyes briefly and for a second, pity danced across her face. “Do as he says. I shall return later.”

A great shuddering sob escaped Felix, wracking his frame, and he shoved the tears down. The backs of his eyes burned and there was a lump in his throat that he couldn’t seem to swallow away. “At least tell me your name, that I may call to you...”

“... Losyara,” she replied softly, then departed.

“Losyara,” he repeated, sliding down the wall to curl un in a ball on the floor. “Losyara.”