The Short Fic Weekly Challenge Thread!
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01.19.2013 , 09:49 PM |
Night of the Living Prompt / ...Like No One's Watching
IA (Drakkach) + Temple
"The stars are orbs / they beckon / they hold...they harbor," this would be a lot simpler if I could look at myself without flinching, always is, "hold...hell." I keep going this way and I'll bury myself in snorts and overblown theatrics. Now straighten up. There's the backbone. No smile. Solemn. We're going for a visceral reaction, not polite laughter; the crowd at the Slippery Slopes open mic night is unforgiving, remember. "The orbs of starlight hold my-
kriff it all!
If you punch the mirror, Drak, it might hurt.
"Ahem. The beckoning starlight / harbors my broken silence / with weighted pauses / of its own / cold contemplation and...and-"
"There was...I...that's a lot of flimsi. Sir."
And you look gorgeous wading through it
. "What is it?! That was
! If you thought Hoth was cold, Ensign-"
"With all due respect, sir, it
locked. You had a call on holo from your sister but she said it wasn't urgent," lovely, that perplexed expression and sly smile.
Wait. Sly smile. "What of it? I don't give a womp arse rat's about her. Doesn't justify you breaking into my quarters." What is she doing? "What are you doing!"
You are the eye of the nebula / a perfect shimmer in the bleak race of / gaudy colors, shapes / my calm
," just put it down, can I blush? I can't, impossible; she knows though, her tone, "why, you're a poet, sir. I never imagined. Is this a love poem?"
"You presume. Just- put that down. Meaningless scrawl. It's nothing, I assure you. Please," add a little pleading upswing to that entreaty why don't you, eh? "I just need some...er...put it down, that's an order!"
"Of course. Received and acknowledged. Sir." Beautiful even when she backs away wearing an ill-concealed grin.
"Right. Where was I? Ah, yes. I hold your orbs / the stuff of starlight / they beckon-
Yeah, old boy. Mirrors hurt even more when they collide with a forehead.
short piece just to get me back into the swing of things since I've been doing more helping-of-guildies than writing and reading these past couple weeks. This takes place not long after Hoth. Almost never bodes well when a bad poet becomes smitten but in Drakkach's case...