Writer’s Muses, Set #44 Photo Prompt B
Writer’s Muses, Set #44 Photo Prompt B
They’re camping in the middle of no where, sitting outside tents and telling stories. Army boys, she thinks to herself as Jankx recalls in vivid detail why one should absolutely never go into the Red Mountains alone to look for food, no matter how little rations are left. They go into Hell and back again, traumatized for life, but are perfectly willing to discuss in graphic detail every horror of it when explaining how they got that scar that isn’t even an inch in length. What she’s seen makes all their adventures seem like boys playing with sticks in the back yard, but she’d never say it. Besides, their stories are good.
“Okay,” he finishes with a large grin. Everyone else is laughing. “Your turn, Sariel.”
“Fine, fine. One good scar story, eh?” She pauses for a moment, and then lifts up her shirt to just below the breast. “See this one?” Her fingers trace the length of a particularly wide scar that runs from the bottom of her left breast to her right side.
“Yeah,” is the general response, with a few flinches and, “Looks nasty” comments for good measure.
“One of my first,” she says. “Right before the first war, I was spying on our opposition. Well, myself and several others. By a very unfortunate turn of events, three people were discovered passing on information to the other side. In a sick test of loyalty to those I was spying on, I was forced to kill them.”
There’s a long pause. Skadron opens his mouth. “That’s ro-“
“If you say it, I will cut you in half,” someone snaps at him. “Continue.”
“Thank you,” she nods her head and continues on. “After they were killed, myself, several others, and the leaders of the opposition returned the bodies to my commander and the political head. It would have been all well and good if the second in command of the opposition didn’t start insulting the dead bodies we were carrying. At this point, I lost my head, completely forgot that I was supposed to remain undercover, and tackled him.”
There’s a pause in her story, but only because the others are snickering. She begins again when she’s sure that they have their giggles out.
“Bad mistake, obviously. He pulls out a dagger and manages to get a good deep cut into me,” she points at the scar. “Doesn’t matter though, I’m pissed off enough that it doesn’t matter. I tear into him and he fights back. Lots of punching in the face and trying to knock the other person off balance. Practically a two person bar room brawl. In the end, I manage to grab the dagger out of his hand and pin him to the ground and then kill him. His own dagger, right through the heart.”
Sariel grins and pulls her shirt down. “Interesting post script to that story. Turns out that my actions started the subsequent war.”
There’s a few grins from people and a few eye rolls. Sariel turns to Skadron. “Okay Scruffy, your turn.”
Word Count: 511
All other characters belong to spacepotato and this is pretty much silly crack crossover although information contained within is canonincal to Paradis.
They’re camping in the middle of no where, sitting outside tents and telling stories. Army boys, she thinks to herself as Jankx recalls in vivid detail why one should absolutely never go into the Red Mountains alone to look for food, no matter how little rations are left. They go into Hell and back again, traumatized for life, but are perfectly willing to discuss in graphic detail every horror of it when explaining how they got that scar that isn’t even an inch in length. What she’s seen makes all their adventures seem like boys playing with sticks in the back yard, but she’d never say it. Besides, their stories are good.
“Okay,” he finishes with a large grin. Everyone else is laughing. “Your turn, Sariel.”
“Fine, fine. One good scar story, eh?” She pauses for a moment, and then lifts up her shirt to just below the breast. “See this one?” Her fingers trace the length of a particularly wide scar that runs from the bottom of her left breast to her right side.
“Yeah,” is the general response, with a few flinches and, “Looks nasty” comments for good measure.
“One of my first,” she says. “Right before the first war, I was spying on our opposition. Well, myself and several others. By a very unfortunate turn of events, three people were discovered passing on information to the other side. In a sick test of loyalty to those I was spying on, I was forced to kill them.”
There’s a long pause. Skadron opens his mouth. “That’s ro-“
“If you say it, I will cut you in half,” someone snaps at him. “Continue.”
“Thank you,” she nods her head and continues on. “After they were killed, myself, several others, and the leaders of the opposition returned the bodies to my commander and the political head. It would have been all well and good if the second in command of the opposition didn’t start insulting the dead bodies we were carrying. At this point, I lost my head, completely forgot that I was supposed to remain undercover, and tackled him.”
There’s a pause in her story, but only because the others are snickering. She begins again when she’s sure that they have their giggles out.
“Bad mistake, obviously. He pulls out a dagger and manages to get a good deep cut into me,” she points at the scar. “Doesn’t matter though, I’m pissed off enough that it doesn’t matter. I tear into him and he fights back. Lots of punching in the face and trying to knock the other person off balance. Practically a two person bar room brawl. In the end, I manage to grab the dagger out of his hand and pin him to the ground and then kill him. His own dagger, right through the heart.”
Sariel grins and pulls her shirt down. “Interesting post script to that story. Turns out that my actions started the subsequent war.”
There’s a few grins from people and a few eye rolls. Sariel turns to Skadron. “Okay Scruffy, your turn.”
Word Count: 511
All other characters belong to spacepotato and this is pretty much silly crack crossover although information contained within is canonincal to Paradis.