Accents (100 words, suitable for all ages)
Ahem. I have written, although it wasn't exactly easy, the first 100 words of actual fiction about the 'verse I keep talking about but never produce any evidence of. I think maybe I just need to talk about it more, and not just keep it in my head and expect to be able to draw a perfect map in one try--or even a complete map in one try--, and not start anything for fear it might not be ~perfect~.
So, anyway. In this 'verse, "magic" is actually bound up in the physics of the universe, and also include what are basically the cheat codes to the universe. Now, normally, those don't do anything, but there's micro sort-of-organisms called thaumavores in my notes, that, y'know, eat the magical elementary particles and which allow you to enter your cheat codes (i.e. do magic). A large enough deposit/culture/whatever of them looks rust red.
Humans have deposits of them in their fingertips, so the pads have a reddish undertone. It's a common practise pretty much the world over to paint your fingers to draw attention to these as-yet-still-called-MCTs (Magic Capturing Things, look, I am not claiming originality here, okay, this stuff is all from my notes), because red fingertips are a marker of shared humanity (I imagine this has some kind of influence on the status of signed languages but that is a topic for whenever I get to language as a whole and that time is a long, long way off--anyway) and also because why not.
And, uh, while culturally the point of view character would have about eleventy billion names, she does not as of yet really have one. It was Lana once, years ago, and I've been toying with Lan, but to be honest I don't like the way it looks, shut up. Atissa's real name is, in all its (deliberately) pseudo-Egyptian glory, At-tit-sa-nakh. (Why Atissa instead of Attitsa? I like it better, and it's not entirely unreasonable (At-tit > A-tit and tit-sa > tis-sa).)
It tickles, the strokes of the brush on her skin, and she never knew her fingers were this sensitive (it’s all she can do to hold her hand still and not pull away - ‘don’t move,’ Atissa chides, absently; ‘I’m not,’ she protests, but obediently extends her hand further.)
‘I still don’t understand the appeal,’ she says, studying the neat little lines on her newly-painted right hand: subtle treasure maps in dark grey and reddish brown.
‘It looks nice,’ Atissa answers, as she moves on to her left hand, and grins. ‘I promise the reward will make it worth your suffering…’
Disclaimer: all mine, written for femslash100's Academia drabble cycle: 19. physics.