Candy Apple. (Horizon Tales)
AUTHOR: Shrimp
CHALLENGE: Candy Apple 11. Skin
WORD COUNT: 2,662
RATING: PG
NOTES: The trading tongue mentioned in the entry was kind of just my answer to having Vala interact with people from different countries who spoke different languages. It's a language (a hodgepodge of languages smashed together really) that traders use in order to do their jobs abroad. Vala's family was the head of the main port city in her country so her father thought it best they all learn it.
Also, I believe this satisfies the Bechdel Test summer challenge.
They called her Black Petunia. Vala didn’t think it was a particularly creative name. A large black scab was all that remained of most of her nose. The reference was obvious and the young woman was forced to admit to having expected more from pirates. Black Petunia, honestly? Though was Vala No-Wives any cleverer? In an attempt to mask the fact that she had allowed her mind to wander terribly Vala set her face in a serious expression and crossed her arms over her chest. No one seemed to be paying her much attention. That was for the best. Whenever anyone decided to truly inspect her Vala always thought she saw the inklings of suspicion in their eyes. She could almost hear their thoughts: “She doesn’t look much like a pirate or a horse farmer.” Of course, she had only claimed to be one. And wasn’t she technically a smuggler and not a pirate? She was still a little fuzzy on the differences.
“You’re the one they call No-Wives?” Vala was jarred from her thoughts by Black
Petunia’s hoarse voice. She looked up at the tall robust woman who was standing before her and the rest of the small group that had been sent to collect the goods. She nodded. “Never trust a person who won’t speak out loud,” the older woman jeered.
“They call me No-Wives.” She was careful how she spoke. She understood the trading tongue fluently and could speak it just as well. The fact that her father had bothered to have her taught had been her saving grace since leaving home. But her accent had been pointed out on occasion. She spoke stiffly, properly, and without the natural ease of someone who used it as their primary tongue. It didn’t betray her upbringing or lend falseness to her lies, but it did make people less apt to work with her and it singled her out as an outsider. That was a dangerous thing. Black Petunia nodded, seemingly satisfied that Vala had spoken, but that wasn’t the end of the conversation.
“Now why do they call you that, I wonder.”
“No wife.” She kept her answers short and shrugged. The other woman smiled broadly. Her teeth were yellow and her gums black. The nickname seemed a little more apt now. Vala wondered what other bits of her skin had darkened and scabbed over. She felt her own skin crawl at the thought. She hoped it wasn’t contagious.
“You haven’t been out here long, huh?” So her accent had betrayed her again. Inwardly Vala cursed. How much practice would she need before people stopped commenting on it? From the corner of her eye she could see the men looking between her and Black Petunia. She wished Ekvy was here instead of Snot and Fat John. She did her best to ignore their eyes. It was something she was getting better at the longer they stayed away from land.
“No,” Vala answered curtly. She tried to meld the word to her tongue the way everyone else seemed to be able to do. It needed to be sloppy and sticky and simple. The big woman barked a laugh that almost made Vala jump out of her skin.
“Good girl. Here’s a lesson for ya: always do your own talking.” She laughed again and pointed to a crate that they hadn’t been directed to before. Vala tried not to search her hand for more black splotches.
“I’ll remember,” Vala said with a cocky grin. Beside her Fat John stooped down to grab their bonus parcel.
CHALLENGE: Candy Apple 11. Skin
WORD COUNT: 2,662
RATING: PG
NOTES: The trading tongue mentioned in the entry was kind of just my answer to having Vala interact with people from different countries who spoke different languages. It's a language (a hodgepodge of languages smashed together really) that traders use in order to do their jobs abroad. Vala's family was the head of the main port city in her country so her father thought it best they all learn it.
Also, I believe this satisfies the Bechdel Test summer challenge.
They called her Black Petunia. Vala didn’t think it was a particularly creative name. A large black scab was all that remained of most of her nose. The reference was obvious and the young woman was forced to admit to having expected more from pirates. Black Petunia, honestly? Though was Vala No-Wives any cleverer? In an attempt to mask the fact that she had allowed her mind to wander terribly Vala set her face in a serious expression and crossed her arms over her chest. No one seemed to be paying her much attention. That was for the best. Whenever anyone decided to truly inspect her Vala always thought she saw the inklings of suspicion in their eyes. She could almost hear their thoughts: “She doesn’t look much like a pirate or a horse farmer.” Of course, she had only claimed to be one. And wasn’t she technically a smuggler and not a pirate? She was still a little fuzzy on the differences.
“You’re the one they call No-Wives?” Vala was jarred from her thoughts by Black
Petunia’s hoarse voice. She looked up at the tall robust woman who was standing before her and the rest of the small group that had been sent to collect the goods. She nodded. “Never trust a person who won’t speak out loud,” the older woman jeered.
“They call me No-Wives.” She was careful how she spoke. She understood the trading tongue fluently and could speak it just as well. The fact that her father had bothered to have her taught had been her saving grace since leaving home. But her accent had been pointed out on occasion. She spoke stiffly, properly, and without the natural ease of someone who used it as their primary tongue. It didn’t betray her upbringing or lend falseness to her lies, but it did make people less apt to work with her and it singled her out as an outsider. That was a dangerous thing. Black Petunia nodded, seemingly satisfied that Vala had spoken, but that wasn’t the end of the conversation.
“Now why do they call you that, I wonder.”
“No wife.” She kept her answers short and shrugged. The other woman smiled broadly. Her teeth were yellow and her gums black. The nickname seemed a little more apt now. Vala wondered what other bits of her skin had darkened and scabbed over. She felt her own skin crawl at the thought. She hoped it wasn’t contagious.
“You haven’t been out here long, huh?” So her accent had betrayed her again. Inwardly Vala cursed. How much practice would she need before people stopped commenting on it? From the corner of her eye she could see the men looking between her and Black Petunia. She wished Ekvy was here instead of Snot and Fat John. She did her best to ignore their eyes. It was something she was getting better at the longer they stayed away from land.
“No,” Vala answered curtly. She tried to meld the word to her tongue the way everyone else seemed to be able to do. It needed to be sloppy and sticky and simple. The big woman barked a laugh that almost made Vala jump out of her skin.
“Good girl. Here’s a lesson for ya: always do your own talking.” She laughed again and pointed to a crate that they hadn’t been directed to before. Vala tried not to search her hand for more black splotches.
“I’ll remember,” Vala said with a cocky grin. Beside her Fat John stooped down to grab their bonus parcel.