Monday, and thus...

The Weekly Word Count.

Erm. Let's see.

Last week's word count: 110,581
This week's word count: 112,458
Word count for the week: 1,877

Hoo. Barely.

If anyone's seen the Muses, could you tell them I miss them terribly and have chocolate covered ants and absinthe waiting for them if they'd just come back. I'm on a deadline here...

Monday, and thus...

The Weekly Word Count.

Erm. Let's see.

Last week's word count: 110,581
This week's word count: 112,458
Word count for the week: 1,877

Hoo. Barely.

If anyone's seen the Muses, could you tell them I miss them terribly and have chocolate covered ants and absinthe waiting for them if they'd just come back. I'm on a deadline here...

And, while I'm here...

Monday Maunderings. Because we're in Albuquerque right now and interwebs access is spotty.

They're in the bar, right after this scene (warning: attempted suicide). Long snippet is long. And, go:

"And those are token bite marks, or I haven't been paying attention. When was the last time you actually fed from him? And does he even know he's popped claws?"

Ben made a noise but didn't respond otherwise. "He's having a bit of a rough patch," Ange said, as he struggled to put the claws back where they belonged, because, no, he hadn't known. "We're dealing."

"Not well," Melissa pointed out with her usual lack of tact, as his hands finally went back to normal.

"Och, when does a wolf ever deal well with all this? The fact that he's not snapped like a bloody rubber band is a miracle I'm thankful for every day." He burrowed tighter into her leg, and her hand firmed on his neck, the thumb massaging the tight muscles. "I've got you, puppy."

"Yeah." He wasn't going to tell her he was okay, because he was far from okay, and she knew that anyway. He wished he knew how to stop falling apart, but nothing in his training or his therapy sessions after Afghanistan had prepared him for this. All he could do was try to hold the flimsy pieces of his sanity together and tell himself that things would get better. Not because he thought they actually would, but because he'd really lose it if that tiny shred of hope slipped away.

He was in the shutdown phase right now. And he knew, from bitter experience, that the lash-out phase would soon follow. And it would probably do him the same amount of good in this place that it did in the Afghani caves.

With the extra added bonus that the vampires wouldn't hesitate to eat him. It'd be wolfsbane and needles if he didn't manage to kill himself before they got to him.

Honestly, he was almost relieved that it was nearly over. He felt bad for Ange, having to watch, but he couldn't do anything to stop this slide and was exhausted from trying. He wrapped the arm not over his head around her thigh. "I'm so sorry," he whispered.

And, while I'm here...

Monday Maunderings. Because we're in Albuquerque right now and interwebs access is spotty.

They're in the bar, right after this scene (warning: attempted suicide). Long snippet is long. And, go:

"And those are token bite marks, or I haven't been paying attention. When was the last time you actually fed from him? And does he even know he's popped claws?"

Ben made a noise but didn't respond otherwise. "He's having a bit of a rough patch," Ange said, as he struggled to put the claws back where they belonged, because, no, he hadn't known. "We're dealing."

"Not well," Melissa pointed out with her usual lack of tact, as his hands finally went back to normal.

"Och, when does a wolf ever deal well with all this? The fact that he's not snapped like a bloody rubber band is a miracle I'm thankful for every day." He burrowed tighter into her leg, and her hand firmed on his neck, the thumb massaging the tight muscles. "I've got you, puppy."

"Yeah." He wasn't going to tell her he was okay, because he was far from okay, and she knew that anyway. He wished he knew how to stop falling apart, but nothing in his training or his therapy sessions after Afghanistan had prepared him for this. All he could do was try to hold the flimsy pieces of his sanity together and tell himself that things would get better. Not because he thought they actually would, but because he'd really lose it if that tiny shred of hope slipped away.

He was in the shutdown phase right now. And he knew, from bitter experience, that the lash-out phase would soon follow. And it would probably do him the same amount of good in this place that it did in the Afghani caves.

With the extra added bonus that the vampires wouldn't hesitate to eat him. It'd be wolfsbane and needles if he didn't manage to kill himself before they got to him.

Honestly, he was almost relieved that it was nearly over. He felt bad for Ange, having to watch, but he couldn't do anything to stop this slide and was exhausted from trying. He wrapped the arm not over his head around her thigh. "I'm so sorry," he whispered.