I have decided to cast my lot in with the lovely writers over at The Feather and the Rose, and perpetuate their blog-hoppy meme, Save-a-Word Saturday. Many thanks to The Ballad of Allyn-a-Dale for giving me the notion!
The fantastic idea runs thus: they put out a theme, you pick a word you want to save from extinction, (a lovely unusual word that lies dying, not just some impressive behemoth like floccinaucinihilipilification,) and feature your word in a vignette that fits their theme. And, you know, link back to them, while they link out to the blogs that join them.
Y’all are totally invited to join in the fun, (and it is fun,) by the way.
I will be generally choosing, methinks, to feature characters from my upcoming novel, Ever the Actor. The following showcases my main character, thick in the middle of one of the many exploits that lie between my prologue and opening chapter.
The most difficult part of playing the soldier, Syawn thought as he wiped sweat-damp curls from his forehead, was forcing his footsteps to match the strong march tattoo.
It was not just that it was hot work, (he knew hot work well enough, and let no man call him a layabout,) but that his legs were more inclined to loping strides, casual swaggering, or the catlike creep of a thief in the night–a profession far more familiar to him than that of the tirailluer.
Ah well. Heavy-booted tramping was a small price to pay for the opportunities enlistment provided; there were few ways to gain better access to the information that would make him a small fortune. And that wasn’t even taking into account the uniforms, weapons, and badges of office he could filch to add to his costume trunk.