The Short Fic Weekly Challenge Thread!
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06.25.2012 , 04:56 PM |
Rites of Passage:
With Lord Amilia and Lord Stion'n, hurray.
"I had touched my face; feeling for where the tears had run. They were there, the traces of them, at least. I was shocked by the scabs - they covered my face, my head, my lekku. They had put me in a tiny, dark little room, all by myself. I only had a mirror to keep me company. My eyes were so swollen I could not see." Amilia sighed. She and Stion'n were once again alone in their shared quarters. Having drunk a little too much wine to cope with Stion'n having taken one too many pain killers, Amilia was reminiscing.
"Did you hate him? Did you really hate him?" Stion'n was laying on her back, hands outstretched to the ceiling. There was a childish, musical quality to her voice. Amilia wondered if she would even remember this conversation.
"No. Not then, not immediately. I pitied myself first. I cried for hours," She swirled the wine around her glass. "They held me down. The filled me up with drugs," She threw back the last of the wine, not even taking in the taste anymore. "And when I woke, my face was gone."
"I would've shoved a lightsabre down his throat then turned it on."
"I used to be so beautiful," She half filled the glass with the remaining burgundy, before topping it up with another random red. "He took that away from me."
"Lightsabre. Throat." Stion'n made a vague stabbing motion at the air and then burst into a fit of giggles.
"Yes, I suppose," Amilia took a sip of her wine, accidently spilling some down her front. "I should have killed him, maybe. I was too weak back then. Just a child."
"No big strong man to protect you?" Stion'n turned to get a better look at the Twi'lek's reaction and almost rolled off the couch as result.
"He might have been, had he lived."
"What was his name?" Stion'n slid to the floor.
"It doesn't matter. What does the name of a slave matter? He questioned my master - our master - and died for it."
"Did he know?"
"That you loved him."
"No," She drank again from the glass, this time taking long draughts, emptying the glass. "He was cold long before I had healed. And then I was gone. Shipped off to some damned Sith academy, to be beaten and humiliated on a whole new level." Amilia raised her glass in a mock toast.
"I'm sorry." Stion'n crawled across the floor, still managing to stumble. She rested her head on Amilia's knees and crossed her arms on her lap.
"For not being there to protect you. We're sisters," Stion'n yawned, showing rows of teeth, all slightly more pointed than normal. "Sisters're supposed to protect each other," She stretched her arms out, looping them about Amilia's waist in a loose hug. "I'm so high right now."
"And I am so very, very drunk."
This is very different from the one I originally started. That one I scrapped because it started out a bit too... bad for my liking and then the dialogue and the action simply weren't working.
So instead we have some awful drunken memories and a lot of dialogue. I really didn't think these two girls would work with each other, but they appear to be developing a rather bizarre relationship.
I was also listening to Nocturno, by Chopin, while writing this, so was feeling rather melancholic.
@GreyJedibp - you say you're not good at writing, maybe you just need some help?