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measured_wordsI brilliantly deleted all my comments on my drabble post trying to edit one. >_< Instead of reposting them in individual comments, I'll post them all here, all categorized. I'm not through yet though, so feel free to post new requests and such, here or there :)
Diablotin
Advice
“I think it is the best we can do for now… But I would appreciate any advice you have.”
Belden sighed. “I think you’re right, Kalman. We have a long way to go.”
“Falke wants me to do everything at once. But the council would never accept it. I don’t even dare bring up the issue of House Rat, beyond writing in some loopholes they might be able to exploit later. I know it’s unfair.”
“It’s difficult, but you’re trying to make the system work and I’m proud of you for that.”
“Thank you. That means a lot to me.”
Angry
“How *dare you*’ tell me what I can and can’t do!”
He cringed, and he could feel his heart drop into his stomach.
“I’m just saying, Mar, that it’s dangerous.”
“That is *not* what you said!”
“I don’t want you to get hurt. It’s dangerous, and it’s a bad plan!”
“Then I’ll *make it* a good one! I don’t need you to protect me. I can take care of myself. But fuck you, if you think it is so bad and dangerous, then you can just stay here.”
The ice he saw in those pale blue eyes froze him solid.
Apples
He woke with a start as something was dropped on his head from above. Mar was poised above him, her arm loaded with a bushel of apples, grinning wickedly.
“Morning to you too,” Tomas grumbled, scooping the fruit out of his lap. She set her burden down and promptly took its place.
“There is a fair setting up in the square. We should go.”
“Now?”
She wrapped her small fingers around his large ones, guiding the apple to her lips and taking a careful bite. Juice ran down her chin, and she smiled as she leaned forward.
“Later, silly boy.”
Heritage
Aden looked around, and shrank back against his grandfather.
“This is where I grew up, before our family was noble. My parents used to have a workshop in that building right there.”
“It’s scary here!”
His grandfather smiled, and ruffled his hair. “It’s not so scary. Lots of people live here, and people are the same everywhere. These people just don’t have nice things. Does that make them scary?”
“No…”
“Well there you go, then. Not scary.”
“Why don’t they have nice things?”
“Because the world isn’t a very fair place, Aden. It’s up to us to make it better.”
Thrill-Seeker
She’d been as surprised to see him as he had to see her, but they’d both recovered quickly.
“Bored, eh? You come on down to Pearl sometime, we’ll show you how to have proper fun.”
A wink and a grin, and she’d been gone. The suggestion lingered. He remembered Marcelyn Winter – how bold she’d been, and reckless, and free. How very full of mischief. He could well imagine the sorts of things she might consider fun, and none of them were very proper. Or legal.
“De-posh yourself a bit, you’ll be fine,” she’d said. Martan thought he could manage that.
Onna boat!
Gold, Blood, and Vengeance
The Spaniard was heavily laden, and yet she deigned to flee, setting more canvas than her spars could likely hold.
Ranger – smaller, with cleaner lines and a shallower draught – was gaining rapidly.
“Raise the colours, you mangy curs! Fire a shot across her stern and see if that don’t quell the fire in ‘er belly!”
The pirates scrambled to obey his orders. Some were already loading pistols in anticipation of boarding the prize.
Low curled his lips and sneered, watching the commotion aboard the Spaniard. He ran a thumb across his knife: they would pay for their insolence in blood.
Resolute?
The Spanish ship was a nice prize – but not nice enough. He was in the middle of an unfamiliar ocean, thousands of miles from any friendly port, waiting for a second crack at fame and fortune. He wasn’t sure if it was Providence or some divine irony that he’d been the only one injured in the fight. His jaw ached, and he could feel fragments of….something working their way out of his gums.
He sought confidence in the looking glass bolted to the cabin wall.
“I,” he repeated to himself, “am Woodes Rogers.” His voice sounded strange to
his ears.
Shooty!
The Duel
To the death, they’d said. No quarter, and straight to Hell with the loser.
He felt dizzy. There were spots in his vision and his sword-arm was numb. His opponent stood tall, that infuriatingly smug smile still plastered to his face.
He caught the next blow near the hilt of his sword. Marshalling the last of his reserves, he returned the stroke, hoping to end the fight – to end the terrible monster who’d taken his Sophie and ruined so many others.
He barely felt the second blade slip between his ribs, and registered his defeat in the villain’s triumphant laughter.
Transformers
Ghost Unit: Haunting
Phreak caught fragments of conversation before the stream of data overwhelmed her processors and her auto-shut down systems engaged.
@hoooo man, look at her go!
@Can we keep her?
@I give her another –
Once reactivated, the bulky femme sat straight up.
“The ambassador!” she cried, the words the only lingering echo of some very important thing she could no longer remember. She registered her surroundings quickly; her company even quicker.
She suffered through Jazz’s lecture on how ‘classified but unfamiliar’ still meant ‘classified,’ but was mostly left with a lingering impression of a somewhat anxious apology rattling through her systems.
Diablotin
Advice
“I think it is the best we can do for now… But I would appreciate any advice you have.”
Belden sighed. “I think you’re right, Kalman. We have a long way to go.”
“Falke wants me to do everything at once. But the council would never accept it. I don’t even dare bring up the issue of House Rat, beyond writing in some loopholes they might be able to exploit later. I know it’s unfair.”
“It’s difficult, but you’re trying to make the system work and I’m proud of you for that.”
“Thank you. That means a lot to me.”
Angry
“How *dare you*’ tell me what I can and can’t do!”
He cringed, and he could feel his heart drop into his stomach.
“I’m just saying, Mar, that it’s dangerous.”
“That is *not* what you said!”
“I don’t want you to get hurt. It’s dangerous, and it’s a bad plan!”
“Then I’ll *make it* a good one! I don’t need you to protect me. I can take care of myself. But fuck you, if you think it is so bad and dangerous, then you can just stay here.”
The ice he saw in those pale blue eyes froze him solid.
Apples
He woke with a start as something was dropped on his head from above. Mar was poised above him, her arm loaded with a bushel of apples, grinning wickedly.
“Morning to you too,” Tomas grumbled, scooping the fruit out of his lap. She set her burden down and promptly took its place.
“There is a fair setting up in the square. We should go.”
“Now?”
She wrapped her small fingers around his large ones, guiding the apple to her lips and taking a careful bite. Juice ran down her chin, and she smiled as she leaned forward.
“Later, silly boy.”
Heritage
Aden looked around, and shrank back against his grandfather.
“This is where I grew up, before our family was noble. My parents used to have a workshop in that building right there.”
“It’s scary here!”
His grandfather smiled, and ruffled his hair. “It’s not so scary. Lots of people live here, and people are the same everywhere. These people just don’t have nice things. Does that make them scary?”
“No…”
“Well there you go, then. Not scary.”
“Why don’t they have nice things?”
“Because the world isn’t a very fair place, Aden. It’s up to us to make it better.”
Thrill-Seeker
She’d been as surprised to see him as he had to see her, but they’d both recovered quickly.
“Bored, eh? You come on down to Pearl sometime, we’ll show you how to have proper fun.”
A wink and a grin, and she’d been gone. The suggestion lingered. He remembered Marcelyn Winter – how bold she’d been, and reckless, and free. How very full of mischief. He could well imagine the sorts of things she might consider fun, and none of them were very proper. Or legal.
“De-posh yourself a bit, you’ll be fine,” she’d said. Martan thought he could manage that.
Onna boat!
Gold, Blood, and Vengeance
The Spaniard was heavily laden, and yet she deigned to flee, setting more canvas than her spars could likely hold.
Ranger – smaller, with cleaner lines and a shallower draught – was gaining rapidly.
“Raise the colours, you mangy curs! Fire a shot across her stern and see if that don’t quell the fire in ‘er belly!”
The pirates scrambled to obey his orders. Some were already loading pistols in anticipation of boarding the prize.
Low curled his lips and sneered, watching the commotion aboard the Spaniard. He ran a thumb across his knife: they would pay for their insolence in blood.
Resolute?
The Spanish ship was a nice prize – but not nice enough. He was in the middle of an unfamiliar ocean, thousands of miles from any friendly port, waiting for a second crack at fame and fortune. He wasn’t sure if it was Providence or some divine irony that he’d been the only one injured in the fight. His jaw ached, and he could feel fragments of….something working their way out of his gums.
He sought confidence in the looking glass bolted to the cabin wall.
“I,” he repeated to himself, “am Woodes Rogers.” His voice sounded strange to
his ears.
Shooty!
The Duel
To the death, they’d said. No quarter, and straight to Hell with the loser.
He felt dizzy. There were spots in his vision and his sword-arm was numb. His opponent stood tall, that infuriatingly smug smile still plastered to his face.
He caught the next blow near the hilt of his sword. Marshalling the last of his reserves, he returned the stroke, hoping to end the fight – to end the terrible monster who’d taken his Sophie and ruined so many others.
He barely felt the second blade slip between his ribs, and registered his defeat in the villain’s triumphant laughter.
Transformers
Ghost Unit: Haunting
Phreak caught fragments of conversation before the stream of data overwhelmed her processors and her auto-shut down systems engaged.
@hoooo man, look at her go!
@Can we keep her?
@I give her another –
Once reactivated, the bulky femme sat straight up.
“The ambassador!” she cried, the words the only lingering echo of some very important thing she could no longer remember. She registered her surroundings quickly; her company even quicker.
She suffered through Jazz’s lecture on how ‘classified but unfamiliar’ still meant ‘classified,’ but was mostly left with a lingering impression of a somewhat anxious apology rattling through her systems.
