Only a short one today, NaNoWriMo runs rampant with my creativity and time, last year I was prepared and wrote a bunch of my stories ahead of time. This year I’m building up to the release of the second Guardian Cadet book — it’s being proof-read as I type and I’ll have more official statements to make out release dates and blurbs and suchlike in December or January. If you’re a repeat reader and would like to discuss potential ARCs head over to my contact form and open the conversation or email me at firstname.lastname@example.org
*A confrontation between Robin and their father.*
The door bounced off the wall, making Robin jerk almost all the way off the bed.
“What the fuck were you thinking!” Their father bellowed.
Robin blinked at him.
Light glinted off a jar in his hand as he lifted it to shake at Robin. The colourful thing inside squeaked.
Robin leapt off the bed, hands grasping for the jar. “What are you doing!?”
“What am I doing? What made you think it was okay to let Dove near Wizard Street!”
“I didn’t,” Robin protested. They’d taken Dove out with them to the market to stock up on household supplies and the young girl had clung to Robin’s hand or, when their hands were busy, keep hold of their pocket. Dove was always well behaved for Robin.
“Then how did she get this!?” He tossed the jar at Robin.
It bounced off their stomach and landed on the floor, the glowing puffball inside rolling and flashing. “I don’t know how she got that. Maybe the Wizard gave it to her outside of Wizard street.” It wasn’t like Wizards were confined to Wizard street at all times, just to sell their wares.
“That would still have meant she interacted with a Wizard!” their father bellowed. “Where were you!”
“For all I know, one of her friends got an extra and gave it to her, I’m just tossing ideas around here.”
“But where were you, Robin? While she was getting this shit from a Wizard or her friends or wherever?”
“I’m not her parent!” Robin exploded. “If you’re so fussed about her not interacting with Wizards maybe you should be the one to tell her she’s not allowed the animated dust bunny thing that literally every other child in the village has.”
As if some magic of its own had woven over the pair, Robin’s animation was met with stony quiet. “If you can’t obey my rules about magic, I don’t want you in this house.”
Robin’s chest hollowed out. Empty. Cavernous. A gaping and lonely chasm. “Fine,” they snapped. They grabbed what they could and shoved it into a backpack, the important things: some clothes, a notebook, their toothbrush. And with no further ceremony, they pushed past their father out of their room and out of the house.
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