Trudge, Drudge, and Traviata

That would be my weekend's writing, housework, and viewing.  One out of three ain't bad, and the second don't look so tiresome once it's finished, at that.  The other will have to await the redraft for its refreshing pine-scented polish.

Killer-Kate and Luke Lackland: 1,000 words.  The Young Duke, who is much more of a reader than his parents, still needs a governess to patiently spell out the word T-R-A-P when it's written in giant letters of smouldering bone charcoal in front of him.

Witch I Hadn't Thought of Yet...

Killer-Kate and Luke Lackland: 1,240 words.  The Duke's excursion completed.  Back to the claustrophobia.

Have I mentioned the Puffin Superior's being really scary?  She's Katy's most principled and lore-wise opponent, and she's just identified an utterly plausible and horrible danger to our Good Witch that nobody else - including me, in my normal narrator mode - had so much as picked up on.  Admittedly it's not Katy's welfare she's chiefly concerned about, but even so... 

Also, after that little potted sermon she dropped in - effective as it was in the circumstances - I begin to get why her order really, really is not generally a preaching or a teaching one.  Most people prefer the Flame of Eternal Truth somewhere safely below Gas Mark 3.  As to where most of the Olympians would prefer it given their druthers, let's not even go there!