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@woodenvelt.bsky.social Oct 3, 2026, 5:37 PM

No petals in book 2, so here is a snip from book 1.

Mother Borrallo visits Spencer with a warning.

From Thief of Death, a romantic fantasy about a priest of the dead and a thief with a heart of gold.

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingPrompts #WritingCommunity #Wrencer

“I came alone for a reason.” The words came as a murmur, so hushed that he had to bend nearer to hear them. “I believe you may have stumbled into something more complicated than a cursed amulet, Brother.”
“How so?” Spencer asked, his own voice an echo of Mother Borrallo’s whisper.
Not willing, or perhaps not yet ready to answer, the priestess turned away and walked to the nearest pew. Mother Borrallo sank onto the polished wood, layers settling around her like the unfurling petals of some midnight flower. Her fingers strayed absently towards the looping silver symbol of the Gray Lady, where it sat draped around the elderly woman’s neck, half smothered by silk and lace.
Spencer sat beside her, neither too close nor too far. Waiting.
“I have learned to accept that I will encounter a certain amount of cruelty in the course of my duties.” Mother Borrallo's voice regained some of its usual steel. “In a city this size, not every death will be the peaceful easement from one state to the next that we might hope for. Even so, what I have witnessed in recent hours stands apart.”
Dread coiled in Spencer’s guts. He didn’t care to imagine the sort of grisly death that could put a woman with Mother Borrallo’s long years of experience off her stride.
“Last night, three bodies were delivered to our care. All were brought in well after midnight. Two victims had organs missing, and the third was fully exsanguinated.”
Spencer’s mouth opened, a dozen different questions dancing on the tip of his tongue, but a sharp sweep of the priestess’s hand forestalled him.
“No, my dear boy.” The veil swished softly as Mother Borrallo shook her head. “It was not some back-alley butcher looking to harvest parts. Vermin that they are, the flesh rippers work methodically and with precision. The components they seek are too valuable to damage. This was poorly done— sloppy, and wasteful.”

@woodenvelt.bsky.social Oct 2, 2026, 10:13 PM

Spencer is on top because he's the most charming and affable person. Wren is the arms so she can still stab/shank someone. Bruce is the legs because he is the strongest/largest and will make a good base.

#Wrencer #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts

@woodenvelt.bsky.social Oct 2, 2026, 11:03 AM

Spencer and Wren work for Dracula. Spencer is trying to gentle parent the vampire into settling his unfinished business and moving on to the afterlife while he and Wren thwart Drac's plans behind his back, but make it LOOK like they are helping.

#Octember #Wrencer #WritingPrompts

@woodenvelt.bsky.social Oct 2, 2026, 10:57 AM

#LitHodgepodge 2

Wren, Spencer and Reggie would be a lot of fun in an episode of Supernatural. Spencer and Dean would definitely clash over how to properly get rid of ghosts and Wren and Sam would nerd fight over obscure lore.

#WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts
#Wrencer

@woodenvelt.bsky.social Oct 1, 2026, 12:28 AM

#AwesomeCharacters

Spencer: A wealthy philanthropist donates a large sum to the church and creates a trust to help pay for upkeep in the cemetery for the next decade.

Wren: Everyone leaves me alone (except Spencer) and nothing bad or unexpected happens.

#Wrencer #WritingPrompts

@woodenvelt.bsky.social Sep 30, 2026, 11:00 AM

Bruce and Wren's (platonic) love language is bickering and threats of violence.

From book 2 of my romantic fantasy wip about a priest of the dead and a thief with a heart of gold.

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingPrompts #WritingCommunity #Wrencer

Bruce seemed to stay put with hardly any effort, the muscles beneath his tunic barely bulging as he gripped the leather handholds beside them. Dimples dotted his cheeks, taunting Wren from beneath the brim of a battered traveling hat.

It was hard to glare menacingly while being bounced around like a babe on a grandad’s knee, but Wren gave it her best effort. “Keep grinning at me like that and I’ll stab you again.”

“What happened to not murdering men over maybes?”

“No maybe about it.” The words rattled out of Wren through gritted teeth. “You’re definitely an ass.”

Bruce barked a laugh that echoed loud and sharp across the fenwaters, startling a pair of marsh weavers into flight. Rude. He could have at least pretended to be intimidated.

The road smoothed out beneath them and the coach returned to a steady rumble. No longer in danger of being pitched to the ground, Wren released her grip, leaning against the luggage with her arms folded over her chest. The straw hat she’d borrowed from Spencer dipped down as she eased back, sprinkling her arms with scattered pinpricks of sunlight. She watched the dusty road spool out behind them until it was swallowed by swaying grass and glinting water and tried to ignore the easy way Bruce lounged in her periphery.

He does this sort of thing all the time. Wren reminded herself. Probably has calluses on his ass from guarding coaches all over the continent. And loathe as she was to admit it, swapping seats with Molly had been a good idea. The thought of Harlan wedged between the sergeant’s biceps and Spencer’s disapproving glare was almost worth a bruised backside.

@woodenvelt.bsky.social Sep 30, 2026, 12:49 AM

#AwesomeCharacters

Spencer is very patient. I describe him as "patient as the grave" somewhere in book 1. Wren can be patient in certain situations, but it's not her default. She's a planner. Her brain is always running scenarios, so when the time comes she is ready to DO the thing.

@woodenvelt.bsky.social Sep 29, 2026, 10:58 AM

Spencer finds that he can't help everyone.

From book 2 of my romantic fantasy wip about a priest of the dead and a thief with a heart of gold.

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingPrompts #WritingCommunity #Wrencer

“Find peace beyond the Veil or not, that choice is yours alone to make. But you have no right to the body you still wear or the stolen lifeblood that fuels it.”

Spencer’s soothing tones from before hardened and chilled until each word boomed forth from his lips like hammer strikes against steel. He released his grip on the general’s arm and slapped his palm against the cold skin of the man’s brow.

Pain and weariness fled, replaced by cold certainty. Energy swelled, sweeping up through the soles of Spencer’s feet, then swirling wildly through the well of power at his core before rushing out of his arms and into Steppan’s body. The general convulsed, thrashing frantically as lavender light coalesced beneath his skin, crackling and cold. His body began to shrivel and shrink, falling in on itself like a piece of plump fruit drained of all its juice. Frost curled up from his dwindling form, hissing and sputtering in the warm rain until all that was left of his physical body was a pile of dust.

Raindrops pitted the small mound, carving rivulets into it and carrying it away in small clumps. Spencer could feel the angry smear of a spirit that hovered there, enraged but impotent. He had learned long ago that some souls simply could not embrace the peace that they had earned. He didn’t like it, but he accepted it.

There was no saving someone who didn’t want to be saved.

@woodenvelt.bsky.social Sep 29, 2026, 12:08 AM

#AwesomeCharacters

Wren's perception of herself is flawed. She gives far more weight to the bad things she's done and very little credit for the good. She doesn't extend herself any grace for the circumstances she was in that forced her to choose the least bad option.

#Wrencer #WritingPrompts

@woodenvelt.bsky.social Sep 28, 2026, 11:11 AM

Spencer and Bruce get some unexpected reinforcements.

From book 2 of my romantic fantasy wip about a priest of the dead and a thief with a heart of gold.

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingPrompts #WritingCommunity #Wrencer

A shadow glided in the mist above them, rippling darkly as it passed overhead. A soft, deep throated hoot echoed oddly in the still air as the shadow swooped low, taking on form and shape. An owl skimmed the ground just before arching back up and settling onto the peak of a tumbled down wall.

“Is that? Nooo…” Bruce drew the word out, shaking his head against the possibility. The owl sat on the wall, blinking one saucer sized eye and then the other before tilting his head just so and giving a sharp clack of his beak.

“It is.” Spencer confirmed. “It’s Strix.”

Or at least, Strix as he had been twenty years ago. No patchy, bedraggled feathers here. Striped in bands of black and charcoal gray with eyes the color of molten gold, this was Strix in his prime. Sleek, dark and deadly, his was the terrifying beauty of a predator. Spencer tore his eyes away from the bird to focus on the pale, round object it had deposited on the ground. It wobbled softly to a stop a few inches from the priest’s feet, revealing rune etched ivory, an iron crown, and a wide, rictus of a grin that Spencer probably knew better than his own face.

“Reggie!” Surprise and delight briefly crowded out the everpresent worry that had settled deep in the pit of Spencer’s stomach. He knelt without thinking, and his knee crunched angrily at him. With a hiss, Spencer scooped up his oldest friend, clutching the skull tight against his chest.

@woodenvelt.bsky.social Sep 28, 2026, 12:01 AM

#AwesomeCharacters

Wren is dark and a little salty like my favorite chocolate bar. Spencer is also dark, but ooey gooey on the inside, like a chocolate lava cake. Bruce is a strawberry cheesecake based purely on vibes. Elton is a mini cinnamon roll because he's only 13.

#Wrencer #Writingprompts

An image of four desserts. One is a Ghirardelli intese dark sea salt and almond chocolate bar. Another is a chocolate molten lava cake. The third is a strawberry cheesecake and the last dessert is mini cinnamon rolls.

@woodenvelt.bsky.social Sep 27, 2026, 2:15 PM

Wren is not great with new people.

From book 2 of my romantic fantasy series about a priest of the dead and a thief with a heart of gold.

#SundaySnips #WritingCommunity #Writingprompts #Wrencer

“Wren, there’s something you should know–” Spencer’s eyes, the same slate gray as the swirling river water, flicked towards the travelers milling near the rest stop privies. “About the man in the coach.”

“Who? Captain floofy sleeves?” There were only two men sharing the carriage with them and Wren doubted Spencer was fretting over the mild mannered painter who could barely look her in the eye. “He’s a lech, but I handled it. If anyone asks, Molly and I have been madly in love for six months as of last Primaday.”

Wren tossed the words casually at the sergeant, a test to see if she’d back the cover story or balk at the lie. But Molly just grinned, mischief dancing brightly in her wheat-brown eyes. “Might come as a bit of a shock to my Fred, but I suppose what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Irritation prickled under Wren’s skin, but she bricked over the feeling with a placid smile. Sooner or later the woman would give her a reason not to like her. Everyone did, eventually. Well, everyone but Spencer. And Bruce was alright, she supposed. Elton was a good lad, too, if she were counting people who didn’t irritate her with their mere presence.

I am turning into an insufferable sop.

@woodenvelt.bsky.social Sep 26, 2026, 11:10 PM

#AwesomeCharacters

First, Wren and Spencer are sleeping till noon, because, as usual, they were up until 3 am running all over the city. They are getting delicious, inexpensive food from a nearby food cart for brunch.

#Wrencer #WritingPrompts #WritingCommunity

@woodenvelt.bsky.social Sep 26, 2026, 4:44 PM

Have you talked about your book yet today?! 🌶️📚🪐

Drop and give us...

Title: Thief of Death
Genre: Romantic Fantasy w/adventure, humor, and heart
Word count: 105K
Funniest moment: "Shit Biscuits!"
Coming in October 2026
Sign up to ARC read at docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1F...

#Wrencer #Booksky

A three by three grid advertising the wip book Thief of Death by author Samantha Breaux. The top row of squares from left to right shows the title in bold print on a turquoise background, a monochromatic map of the city, and a digital sketch of the female main character. The woman has tan skin, a long brown braid, and a slightly mischievous expression. The center row shows from left to right the male main character, a quote from the book, and a black and white photo of an angel statue. The male main character is pale with shoulder length, wavy dark hair and a concerned expression. The bottom row shows from left to right a photo of a graveyard, a digital sketch of a skull with turquoise flames surrounding its head and turquoise pinpricks for eyes, and a photo of several old books and manuscripts. Character art and map drawn by the author.

@woodenvelt.bsky.social Sep 25, 2026, 11:19 PM

#AwesomeCharacters

It's a tie between Wren and Bruce.

She gets tied up (abraded wrists/ankles) buried alive (new fear - claustrophobia), falls off a building + jacks up her shoulder, takes a punch from Bruce, and necromantic drain from a ghost.

#Wrencer #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts

@woodenvelt.bsky.social Sep 25, 2026, 12:48 AM

#AwesomeCharacters

Wren is drinking cider by the fire while reading a ridiculous romance novel. Spencer is visiting a haunted house, but just to check up on the ghosts and make sure they're settling in. Bruce and Elton want to go to a fall fair...

#Wrencer #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts

@woodenvelt.bsky.social Sep 24, 2026, 11:09 AM

Wren and Spencer summon a melodramatic ghost.

Sharing a snip today from my romantic fantasy series about a priest of the dead and a thief with a heart of gold. If you enjoy this snip, You can sign up to ARC read at the link below:

#WIPSnips #Booksky #Wrencer

docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1F...

The silence dragged against Wren, oddly heavy, as if the dry fog blanketing the floor was muffling the sounds around them. The duke, deprived of the reaction he expected, lowered his chin and blinked his sapphire blue eyes. Var Dunnis had been a handsome man in life, the sort of pale, pretty lord women tended to swoon over. If the rumors were to be believed, several of them had swooned onto their backs for him. His cobalt gaze swept over the room, gliding past Spencer to snag on Wren. The shade swept towards her through the mist, going to a knee at her feet.
“If love has prodded you to meddle in dark arts milady, I will forgive you, but you must be wary. Your trespass could wake other beasts who are not so gentle as myself.”
He bowed over her hand, intending to kiss it, but the shade’s fingers passed through Wren’s, leaving behind an icy prickle. Wide-eyed, she shot Spencer another look, jerking her chin towards the uncomfortably attentive ghost. Wren knew what to do with handsy nobles who were living, but dead ones were something else entirely. Fortunately, the good brother seemed to have regained his composure.
Shoulders stiff and brows knotted in an angry scowl, Spencer spoke. “Duke Var Dunnis.” His voice echoed in the oppressive air, laced with power. The shade snapped his head towards Spencer as if pulled by an invisible string. “I am Brother Thorne, anointed of the Gray Lady. I have Called you in the Lady’s name to aid us in Her endeavors.”

@woodenvelt.bsky.social Sep 24, 2026, 12:10 AM

This is your weekly reminder that I am still looking for ARC readers for my debut novel, Thief of Death.

If you've enjoyed reading snips about Wren and Spencer a.k.a. #Wrencer here on bluesky, please consider signing up. As of right now, I only have 2 confirmed ARC readers. 🥹

@woodenvelt.bsky.social Sep 24, 2026, 12:07 AM

#AwesomeCharacters

Bruce from Thief of Death is bisexual. 🩷💜💙

He's known for being a very casual, let's just have some fun, no commitments kind of guy, but in book 3 he meets someone who makes him actually want to get serious.

#Wrencer #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts

A digital drawing by author and artist Samantha Breaux showing her OC Bruce Everton-Thorne, a mercenary. He has medium brown skin and brown hair pulled up into a warrior’s queue. There is a scar on his chin. He is wearing a green tunic with a sword wrapped in thorns on it as well as a metal gorget, metal pauldrons, and metal and leather bracers all with a thorny vine detail.

@woodenvelt.bsky.social Sep 23, 2026, 11:04 AM

A storm is brewing in the Fain ruins.

From book 2 of my romantic fantasy wip about a priest of the dead and a thief with a heart of gold.

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingPrompts #WritingCommunity #Wrencer

“Shelter might turn out to be the more pressing concern,” Bruce pointed out, lifting his eyes to the dark clouds gathering overhead.

As if on cue, the wind picked up and swept between them, flapping their cloaks loudly. Spencer felt a sudden urge to hurry. Without a word, everyone fell back into a loose line and started walking. Even the marsh mule seemed to want to get where they were going. She trilled nervously and tugged at her lead, half pulling Bruce down the ancient street.

An hour of brisk walking brought them closer to their goal.

Spencer could see the temple looming nearer, dark stone against a darker sky. The road narrowed as they made their way deeper into the city, crowded at the edges by tall buildings pressed one against the other. The priest caught occasional glimpses of the pyramid’s stepped stones between tumbled down gaps in the walls but the darkening sky and rising pressure in the air made Spencer feel hemmed in.

They passed countless courtyards open to the street and small parks filled with broken down statues and stagnant fountains whittled down by the steady march of time. Familiar looking plinths, smaller than Uncle Japes but crafted in a similar fashion, marked each of the many, many intersections. Spencer had grown so used to the warren-like press of stone walls towering on all sides that when the road finally deposited them in an expansive clearing, he stumbled unsteadily for the first few steps.