Farscape/Firefly ficlet for FarscapeLand
For farscape-land challnege 008: Love is in the Air.
This is terribly rushed, but I think the idea is visible.
487 words and one image for Team Module.
Rated PG.
Jirls with Guns - an Aeryn and Zoe beginning
Aeryn waited. Patiently. Well, as patiently as one got while on an unfamiliar and dusty planet, in a poorly ventilated bar tucked half a metra underground. She kicked back the warm dregs of her drink, stroked the comforting curve of her weapon, and enjoyed the flare of heat as the drink pooled in her gut.
She was waiting for a cargo ship and a captain who was trusted to connect her with the liberal activist group. She’d spent the better part of three moens quietly listening in bars and shipyards, and she’d dropped her name- not her actual name- into conversations about the unfairness of the reigning government in this sector. Two weekens ago, she’d been contacted.
And so she waited. She’d been given limited details: coordinates, a date and time, and two names. Malcolm Reynolds, Serenity. She’d stashed her prowler and a significant sum of money, with the owner of this dreary bar.
Time passed. Aeryn nodded and another drink slid into her hand, leaving twin trails of moisture on the dirty bar. She scanned the room, catching the gaze of a dark skinned woman. She’d noticed when this woman entered. She moved with the cautious grace of a soldier, her head and shoulders back, her arms loose, her fingertips brushing her weapon. Confidant and sure. Everything Aeryn used to be.
Aeryn stood, snagged a second bottle of fillip nectar and walked towards the woman. She slid into the booth, placing the bottle and both her hands on the table.
“Do you mind company?”
Chocolate curls brushed over the woman’s shoulders, her eyes dark and serious. “Not if you keep buying.”
Aeryn dipped her head in acknowledgment, “My name’s Sundance.”
The woman stifled a laugh, “That’s an awfully fancy name you’ve got. I’m Zoe.”
The women drank in silence for a moment before Aeryn gestured at Zoe. “What type of pistol is that? I’ve not seen that style before.”
Zoe smiled faintly and upholstered her weapon. She held it over the table, the weight balanced with ease. “She’s a Winchester 44-40.”
Aeryn noted the well worn grip and the gleam of conditioning oil. “You treat her well. She’s a manual, yes?”
“She shoots bullets. I don’t trust the kind that fire laser bolts. Seems unreliable.”
Aeryn smiled, “I could show you a few that might make you change your mind about that. I’ve an assault rifle that handles so delicately you could write your name with it.” She took a long drag from her drink. “If you can handle it.”
“Size doesn’t equal consistency.” Zoe tucked the gun back into her holster.
“Training does.”
Zoe arched an eyebrow, “Indeed.” Zoe’s wrist chirruped as her thick bracelet blinked in a rapid series. She exhaled quickly and finished her drink in a quick swallow. She stood, dropping a few coins on the worn table. “Care to go a few rounds with me?”
"I would like that very much."
This is terribly rushed, but I think the idea is visible.
487 words and one image for Team Module.
Rated PG.
Jirls with Guns - an Aeryn and Zoe beginning
Aeryn waited. Patiently. Well, as patiently as one got while on an unfamiliar and dusty planet, in a poorly ventilated bar tucked half a metra underground. She kicked back the warm dregs of her drink, stroked the comforting curve of her weapon, and enjoyed the flare of heat as the drink pooled in her gut.
She was waiting for a cargo ship and a captain who was trusted to connect her with the liberal activist group. She’d spent the better part of three moens quietly listening in bars and shipyards, and she’d dropped her name- not her actual name- into conversations about the unfairness of the reigning government in this sector. Two weekens ago, she’d been contacted.
And so she waited. She’d been given limited details: coordinates, a date and time, and two names. Malcolm Reynolds, Serenity. She’d stashed her prowler and a significant sum of money, with the owner of this dreary bar.
Time passed. Aeryn nodded and another drink slid into her hand, leaving twin trails of moisture on the dirty bar. She scanned the room, catching the gaze of a dark skinned woman. She’d noticed when this woman entered. She moved with the cautious grace of a soldier, her head and shoulders back, her arms loose, her fingertips brushing her weapon. Confidant and sure. Everything Aeryn used to be.
Aeryn stood, snagged a second bottle of fillip nectar and walked towards the woman. She slid into the booth, placing the bottle and both her hands on the table.
“Do you mind company?”
Chocolate curls brushed over the woman’s shoulders, her eyes dark and serious. “Not if you keep buying.”
Aeryn dipped her head in acknowledgment, “My name’s Sundance.”
The woman stifled a laugh, “That’s an awfully fancy name you’ve got. I’m Zoe.”
The women drank in silence for a moment before Aeryn gestured at Zoe. “What type of pistol is that? I’ve not seen that style before.”
Zoe smiled faintly and upholstered her weapon. She held it over the table, the weight balanced with ease. “She’s a Winchester 44-40.”
Aeryn noted the well worn grip and the gleam of conditioning oil. “You treat her well. She’s a manual, yes?”
“She shoots bullets. I don’t trust the kind that fire laser bolts. Seems unreliable.”
Aeryn smiled, “I could show you a few that might make you change your mind about that. I’ve an assault rifle that handles so delicately you could write your name with it.” She took a long drag from her drink. “If you can handle it.”
“Size doesn’t equal consistency.” Zoe tucked the gun back into her holster.
“Training does.”
Zoe arched an eyebrow, “Indeed.” Zoe’s wrist chirruped as her thick bracelet blinked in a rapid series. She exhaled quickly and finished her drink in a quick swallow. She stood, dropping a few coins on the worn table. “Care to go a few rounds with me?”
"I would like that very much."