It is done it is done it is done it is done it is done.
The draft for Book III of The Order of the Four Sons series is done. And, after a fallow period, my Esteemed Co-Author and I will go back to it, tweaking and smoothing, putting the finishing touches onto the great beast we have been laboring over all this time.
All the old characters, their stories finely woven together at last. And new characters: Prince Leopold, his father Henri, Janus, Madeline (ah, Madeline!) and not to mention, at last, the face of Starry Wisdom. And of course Christophe. Readers will remember him from the end of Book II. Christophe Ecarteur, the Beast of the Boudoirs. Christophe Ecarteur, the Prince's inspirer. Through the darkest nights of writing, just as JD's determination and attitude got us through Book I and much of Book II, Christophe was a beacon of randy light and gentle hope throughout our work on Book III. I shall say little more about him, so as to avoid spoilers, save that he is decidedly one of our favorite characters ever.
There was rain today, so it was a perfect time to go out and run some errands. I was in the Home Depot, confirming that everything I need is about six times what I expected, when an older gentleman walked past me with a cart full of lumber. His monastic robes were of a cut I didn't recognize, and were a kind of slate grey-blue. Interesting. It didn't look Russian, and I think it was not Ethiopian . . .
After a moment of consideration, I flagged the gentleman down.
"Excuse me sir," I said. "I hope you don't mind my asking, but I've never seen vestments quite like yours before--"
The older man smiled. "Yes, I am a member of the Dominican faith. We are the Little Brothers of the Lamb."
And of course the monk was also a carpenter, which is just cool. That's like finding a priest of Anubis who does embalming for a living, or a druid who is also a master brewer. The gent who was ringing him up revealed that the lumber was for repairs and additions to his monastery, tending well to the House of his brothers.
He was a small man, compact, dark-complected, with hair that had also been dark once upon a time. He spoke with a slight accent I could not quite place - something romantic, I think. His eyes were gentle and strong, his face lined with laugh-wrinkles. I would have stayed and talked to him more, but I was in a hurry - the cloud cover had vanished and time was fleeting. As we parted ways, we exchanged names.
"Coyote," I told him.
He smiled as he shook my hand. "I am Little Brother Christophe," he said.
I smiled back, thinking, Of course you are.
And those who know shall know.
(Chimera pic courtesy of powerlisting.wikia.com; RDJ created himself and has his own rights. All rights reserved by those who rightfully reserve them.)