I missed it last week, but here’s a snippet of what I’m writing right now. Who wants to hear something from the mysterious Jaron? I’m also including a photo I took in Vienna of Michaelskirche, St. Michael’s church in Vienna. This is the amazing Rococo sculpture “Fall of the Angels” by Lorenzo Mattielli.
He watched from across the crowded street. Jaron had taken the face of an old man, holding a newspaper and watching the humans pass in front of him as they strolled the ocean promenade with family and friends. The winter wind gusted on the Ligurian coast, but it did not bother the angel, only flapped the threadbare overcoat that covered his narrow shoulders.
Another old man came to sit beside him, holding a bag of warm chestnuts.
“Does she know yet?”
“She’s intelligent. She’ll find the answers soon enough. And the scribe is keener than I expected.”
Barak lifted the steaming bag of chestnuts to his nose and inhaled but did not reach for one. “Mikhael’s offspring are often underestimated,” he said. “Seen more for their physical strength than their strategy. This is a mistake.”
Jaron nodded. “Mikhael is a great strategist. His prowess rivals Yun’s.”
“Only when Yun is not working with you. Is her father still hidden?”
“As much as I can make him. In some ways, his public life has made it easier. He doesn’t often remove himself to places where he could be vulnerable.”
“True.” Barak tugged on the grey beard that covered his face. “I prefer the human eras that favor facial hair.”
Jaron lifted an eyebrow at his friend. “Do you? I detest them.”
“You detest every human era anymore.”
“Why do you think I’m doing all this?”
The corner of the old man’s mouth lifted behind his beard. “Why, indeed?”
I’ll have some exciting news later this week about DESERT BOUND! Until then, have a great day, everyone.