My writing output has been horrendously low lately. Thankfully I am working on Hungry Ground again, along with the
imaginarybeasts story! I will get back into shape, so to speak.
In the meantime, here are a couple pieces from the Drabble-thon! I will catch up on comments and links later tonight, hopefully.
Cass, standing a few feet away, glanced over the heads of their younger siblings to meet eyes with Felix, as if expecting him to explain, but he had no idea what had happened, either. The short answer seemed to be that the frail, asthmatic kid from his World History class had saved his life.
Right now, though, Felix was less concerned with what had happened and more concerned with whether or not their unlikely savior would expire on the front lawn.
Felix hovered over him awkwardly, waiting for the ragged breaths to even out, before managing, "Um. Are you okay?"
The kid looked up, looking exhausted and distinctly cross. "I thought told you to stay outside."
"Yeah, well..." Felix attempted a smile. "I was trying to save you."
The kid's stare, if possible, got flatter. "Good job."
"I deserve that." Felix laughed, though he got the feeling he should have been offended. "So... you going to tell me what just happened?"
"Depends." The kid shrugged. "Do you want to know?"
"Probably not, but I feel like I should, anyway. Uh. I'd invite you inside, but..." Felix glanced back at his darkened house, then back to the kid.
"Don't worry." He actually smiled a little. "There's nothing there anymore."
"Oh. Well then." Felix extended a hand. "Step into our humble abode. I'll get you some tea. Or a priest. Whichever you need." As he pulled the kid off the ground, Felix realized that he didn't know a single polite way to admit that he'd completely forgotten his name. So he just offered his own. "I'm Felix."
"Yes, I know." Felix probably deserved that little edge, too. "I'm Alex Harper."
"Alex, huh?" Rhyming names? That just wouldn't do. "How do you feel about Allie?"
The look on Alex's face suggested that he was really going to regret this.
The world should have ended this morning.
Not because of me. I'm arrogant, but not to the point that I'd believe the world couldn't exist without me in it. No, I've always had no trouble accepting the possibility that I might die young. Had I not had the morning off, I'd probably be dead already. I would have been one of the first to hear them come, and I probably would have ran right into a sword.
Instead, I slept through it. I slept through until one of them crawled onto my bed, ready to slit my throat.
Some hyper-competent version of myself took over at some point back there, sometime when I was wandering the hallways in my pajamas, staring at the dead. I watched her round up the survivors, shepherd her barefoot friends through the woods while saying things like, Walk, come on, walk. And I tried not to look back, because even though I knew I was imagining it, I thought there was something accusing in their stares. Why wasn't I devastated like the rest of them? Didn't I care what had just happened?
I wanted to. But every time I tried, I kept thinking of history books. When I thought about the way my life might end before, I thought about my last words to Gwen. I'd wanted to say something majestic, inspiring. It's been my honor to serve you, Your Majesty. Words to that effect.
But when I saw her last night, the last time I'd ever see her, she was standing at the top of the stairs in the front hall, watching me as I dragged myself through the front door. "You're late, cupcake."
"Missed you too, sugarplum," I'd sighed.
The last words the great Celeste Kasshen ever spoke to her liege? 'Sugarplum.' I'd be better off if the history books made something up. But it's not really my fault. I thought I'd have time to plan. I thought I'd outlive her, after all.
The world should have ended this morning, after Gwen died, but the sun comes up anyway. I should have known it would - because, like she always told me, 'as with anything, time moves forward and onward.' But I'm surprised enough that I murmur to myself, "Huh. I guess it still rises."
As last words go, it still leaves something to be desired.
The world should have ended already, but here I am, still standing here in the full glare of the rising sun.
Well. Not for long, anyway.
Following her 'episode,' as her teachers liked to so delicately put it, Tuyen found there wasn't much good advice to go around.
Lanh was the one she used to talk to about these things, but lately, everything she did was met with that same disapproving stare, whether it was her career path or her choice of hand soap. (She was starting to wonder if she should just kill two birds with one stone and handcraft organic soap for a living.)
And besides him, there wasn't really anyone. None of her acquaintances had been patient enough to wait while she recovered - they were far enough ahead of her that she didn't really know how to talk to them anymore. It got to the point where she gave up and asked Professor Chen about it.
"I want to know if I can complete my coursework in less than five years," she'd told him. The plan hadn't changed, even if the motivation had.
"That's a rather unforgiving pace for someone in your condition, darling," Chen had laughed at her. "I mean, if I see you taking a break, you'd better be dead." He must have realized that she'd take his words at face value, because he immediately added, "That's why it's so important that you take your time. Your health is the most important thing here."
During her 'episode,' as her teachers liked to so delicately put it, Tuyen didn't feel any pain at all. She felt the first few pangs, then nothing.
It's why she doesn't mind so much even when her lessons go late into the night and all her muscles and nerves scream at her to stop. It's a good hurt. Pain, she knows, is her body's way of letting her know that she's still alive.
Chen might have been joking that day in his office, but that doesn't mean he wasn't right.
And hopefully more to come later!
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In the meantime, here are a couple pieces from the Drabble-thon! I will catch up on comments and links later tonight, hopefully.
Cass, standing a few feet away, glanced over the heads of their younger siblings to meet eyes with Felix, as if expecting him to explain, but he had no idea what had happened, either. The short answer seemed to be that the frail, asthmatic kid from his World History class had saved his life.
Right now, though, Felix was less concerned with what had happened and more concerned with whether or not their unlikely savior would expire on the front lawn.
Felix hovered over him awkwardly, waiting for the ragged breaths to even out, before managing, "Um. Are you okay?"
The kid looked up, looking exhausted and distinctly cross. "I thought told you to stay outside."
"Yeah, well..." Felix attempted a smile. "I was trying to save you."
The kid's stare, if possible, got flatter. "Good job."
"I deserve that." Felix laughed, though he got the feeling he should have been offended. "So... you going to tell me what just happened?"
"Depends." The kid shrugged. "Do you want to know?"
"Probably not, but I feel like I should, anyway. Uh. I'd invite you inside, but..." Felix glanced back at his darkened house, then back to the kid.
"Don't worry." He actually smiled a little. "There's nothing there anymore."
"Oh. Well then." Felix extended a hand. "Step into our humble abode. I'll get you some tea. Or a priest. Whichever you need." As he pulled the kid off the ground, Felix realized that he didn't know a single polite way to admit that he'd completely forgotten his name. So he just offered his own. "I'm Felix."
"Yes, I know." Felix probably deserved that little edge, too. "I'm Alex Harper."
"Alex, huh?" Rhyming names? That just wouldn't do. "How do you feel about Allie?"
The look on Alex's face suggested that he was really going to regret this.
The world should have ended this morning.
Not because of me. I'm arrogant, but not to the point that I'd believe the world couldn't exist without me in it. No, I've always had no trouble accepting the possibility that I might die young. Had I not had the morning off, I'd probably be dead already. I would have been one of the first to hear them come, and I probably would have ran right into a sword.
Instead, I slept through it. I slept through until one of them crawled onto my bed, ready to slit my throat.
Some hyper-competent version of myself took over at some point back there, sometime when I was wandering the hallways in my pajamas, staring at the dead. I watched her round up the survivors, shepherd her barefoot friends through the woods while saying things like, Walk, come on, walk. And I tried not to look back, because even though I knew I was imagining it, I thought there was something accusing in their stares. Why wasn't I devastated like the rest of them? Didn't I care what had just happened?
I wanted to. But every time I tried, I kept thinking of history books. When I thought about the way my life might end before, I thought about my last words to Gwen. I'd wanted to say something majestic, inspiring. It's been my honor to serve you, Your Majesty. Words to that effect.
But when I saw her last night, the last time I'd ever see her, she was standing at the top of the stairs in the front hall, watching me as I dragged myself through the front door. "You're late, cupcake."
"Missed you too, sugarplum," I'd sighed.
The last words the great Celeste Kasshen ever spoke to her liege? 'Sugarplum.' I'd be better off if the history books made something up. But it's not really my fault. I thought I'd have time to plan. I thought I'd outlive her, after all.
The world should have ended this morning, after Gwen died, but the sun comes up anyway. I should have known it would - because, like she always told me, 'as with anything, time moves forward and onward.' But I'm surprised enough that I murmur to myself, "Huh. I guess it still rises."
As last words go, it still leaves something to be desired.
The world should have ended already, but here I am, still standing here in the full glare of the rising sun.
Well. Not for long, anyway.
Following her 'episode,' as her teachers liked to so delicately put it, Tuyen found there wasn't much good advice to go around.
Lanh was the one she used to talk to about these things, but lately, everything she did was met with that same disapproving stare, whether it was her career path or her choice of hand soap. (She was starting to wonder if she should just kill two birds with one stone and handcraft organic soap for a living.)
And besides him, there wasn't really anyone. None of her acquaintances had been patient enough to wait while she recovered - they were far enough ahead of her that she didn't really know how to talk to them anymore. It got to the point where she gave up and asked Professor Chen about it.
"I want to know if I can complete my coursework in less than five years," she'd told him. The plan hadn't changed, even if the motivation had.
"That's a rather unforgiving pace for someone in your condition, darling," Chen had laughed at her. "I mean, if I see you taking a break, you'd better be dead." He must have realized that she'd take his words at face value, because he immediately added, "That's why it's so important that you take your time. Your health is the most important thing here."
During her 'episode,' as her teachers liked to so delicately put it, Tuyen didn't feel any pain at all. She felt the first few pangs, then nothing.
It's why she doesn't mind so much even when her lessons go late into the night and all her muscles and nerves scream at her to stop. It's a good hurt. Pain, she knows, is her body's way of letting her know that she's still alive.
Chen might have been joking that day in his office, but that doesn't mean he wasn't right.
And hopefully more to come later!