I'm working on it, I swear!
Feb. 29th, 2008 07:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rillaliciousI'm working on the next chapter of The Lives of the Saints! I swear I am. I know I originally said my goal was to post a chapter a week, but February was CRAZY busy around here, and with The BoyfriendTM coming to visit for the weekend, I'm pretty sure that the earliest I'll be done will be the end of next week. I'm just so glad people seem to be as excited about reading it as I am about writing it!
In good faith, here's a very brief snippet of Chapter 2:
Her mother's hair had held on to the last vestiges of chestnut: that warm, soft color, that reminded Rose of being a little girl and tangling it around her fingers, pressing her nose into the endless whorls and inhaling. The hint of that color had remained until three months before Rose's father passed away. Rose remembered, with some absurd clarity, meeting her mother at St Mungo's shortly after she received the news. Ron Weasley was dying, and the Healers could do no more for him.
Though she remembered the sadness in her mother's eyes and the straightness of her mother's back that day, what she remembered most was that it seemed the color had been drained completely from her mother's hair. 'This is what grieving looks like,' Rose had thought, breathing in an intangible sadness that expanded in the hallway around them like fog. That moment was frozen in Rose's mind, and she didn't think she'd ever be able to shake it free.
And if you missed Chapter one and would like to read, you can find it here: http://rillalicious.livejournal.com/27406.html
In good faith, here's a very brief snippet of Chapter 2:
Her mother's hair had held on to the last vestiges of chestnut: that warm, soft color, that reminded Rose of being a little girl and tangling it around her fingers, pressing her nose into the endless whorls and inhaling. The hint of that color had remained until three months before Rose's father passed away. Rose remembered, with some absurd clarity, meeting her mother at St Mungo's shortly after she received the news. Ron Weasley was dying, and the Healers could do no more for him.
Though she remembered the sadness in her mother's eyes and the straightness of her mother's back that day, what she remembered most was that it seemed the color had been drained completely from her mother's hair. 'This is what grieving looks like,' Rose had thought, breathing in an intangible sadness that expanded in the hallway around them like fog. That moment was frozen in Rose's mind, and she didn't think she'd ever be able to shake it free.
And if you missed Chapter one and would like to read, you can find it here: http://rillalicious.livejournal.com/27406.html
