Apologies for the scarcity as of late. NaNoWriMo really is taking every effort from me, trying to maintain the word count. I’m just barely on target, hovering somewhere around 32K at the moment. Hoping to make up for lost time this weekend, where my husband won’t be away!
Anyway, a little snippet in the mean time, from Pilgrim of the Sky.
They had now arrived by the Roth’s black carriage; the single golden wheel at the front had been recently cleaned by one of Mrs. Hildebrandt’s servants, and it stood gleaming in the chilly winter light. It was striking in its simplicity, that simple circle, and she stared at it a moment in wonder before letting Randall help her into the carriage. She nestled into her seat, pulling her stole around her shoulders.
“I’ll be happy to take you by home,” said Randall, swooping up beside her, and closing the door in one swift movement. He did move well, she thought. So unlike Randy, so deliberate—almost as if he’d had instruction as a dancer. “But would you permit me just one detour? It’s something I think you’d find fascinating—I know your love of cathedrals, and well, we have our own. It’s called the Church of the Weeping Lady, and it takes up nearly two entire blocks downtown. You can see some of the domes and spirals from here.”
“Oh?” said Maddie. She felt Matilda there, suddenly, like someone peeking over her shoulder, except from within her. A very strange feeling. But she just shuddered and clenched her teeth, waiting. No, Matilda wasn’t saying anything at the moment. Maddie had the sudden impression that she was just listening, waiting.
“It’s the gem of our city,” he continued. “Designed by William Morris himself, if you’ll believe it.”
“William Morris? As in–he’s got some art there, or–”
“No, he was the chief architect. Every detail is his; every inspired detail.”
“And here I had him pegged as one of those Pre-Raphaelite socialist sorts with thoughts bent on saving the world one hand-pressed tile at a time,” Maddie said, thinking herself quite clever for the near mini-lecture she’d delivered in the space of a sentence. “Didn’t think he’d have undertaken a whole church.”
Randall nodded, “Indeed, that’s Morris in your world. In this world, he was one of the most devoted Marian priests—and his talent, well, I say it flourished here even greater than it did in your time. There is a certain indelible well of inspiration for some, when it comes to the Great Mother.”
“Great Mother,” said Maddie. “You sound like a neo-pagan.”
He shrugged. “Not much of a difference, in some things, I suppose.”