Blog: NaNo Day 4, Deleted Scene (Klingon Stomp Entrance)

Picture of plastic swords

Image from http://www.mardigrasimports.com/DZ-19-PIRATE-KNIFE-5230-TR233

Cons of Romance -> Deleted Scene – the entrance to the Klingon Stomp
Words 343 – Just didn’t work for the book, but the scene itself is too cool not to share.

Either side of the entrance to the ballroom were white draped tables covered with knives and swords, colorful plastic and foam toys. The hosts of the Stomp must had wiped out dollar stores for miles around to get this large of an assortment. In front of each table stood a tall Klingon warrior in full gear, arms crossed, appearing menacing as only Klingons can. The music emanating through the doors physically assaulted us, and I gained renewed respect for my fellow cosplayers; had I such duty I would have created an earplug of some sort, wax or …

I would need explore white noise backwash possibilities limited by eighteenth century technologies. An interesting challenge I think Sally will love. I made a mental note to talk to the vixen.

“Weapons?” The right one growled at us.

Both my hands rested lightly on the crook of Brent’s arm. I leaned against him, laying my head against his shoulder, my curls cascading forward just shy of the moving gears on my corset. “No, thank you sir-ah, I have brought my own.”

The Klingon nodded approval then looked at my escort. “Weapons?”

“Umm.” Brent glanced down at me for instruction.

“I think a knife would be lovely.” I suggested, nodding towards the playthings. Gently I drew the con’s Guest of Honor over to the spread. “Ah, this should do nicely.”

Brent seemed bemused as I handed him a curved plastic blade, the cartoonish pirate weapon resplendent in red, gold, black, and the tacky pretend-gray of toy steel. My poor man looked very much like Alice must have after falling down the rabbit hole.

Returning my gloved hands to their proper location on my escort’s arm, I asked “Shall we dance?”

“Sounds wonderful Miss Timepiece.” His relieved answer indicated his uncertainty about arming guests entering a party did not extend to his feelings about spending time with me. Tucking the blade into his belt so he could place his left hand over mine, he clasped me firmly to his person as we both entered the Klingon Stomp.