Ficlet: "Semantics"
Title: Semantics
Characters: Baltar
Wordcount: ~ 300 words
Rating: Teen.
Beta: ebuchala without whom I should not try to write a story with this title
Spoilers: late s3; backstory
Summary: Twelve-year-old Gaius Baltar mixes business with pleasure.
Author’s Note: Because I said that I'd never write Baltar, and I said it a lot, and then I stopped believing myself.
And I still like feedback. ;)
Winters on Aerelon are frakking cold.
No, Gaius thinks, huddling tighter into his outworn cloak, striding down the town’s only road fast. That’s ‘very’. ‘Very’ cold.
Chewing on his lower lip, the twelve-year-old tries out other words, rolling them around on his tongue. Ghastly. Atrociously. Hideously cold.
He likes ‘hideously’. It sounds most dramatic.
Impatiently, he turns around. His sister is lagging behind again, looking at the displays of the town shops, both of which wouldn’t let them in anyway. “Hurry up!” he snaps. “We’ll miss the launch if you keep wasting time!”
“But I don’t wanna see no ship!” Maya complains. “I’m freezing. I wanna...”
“Want to,” Gaius interrupts her in a strict voice.
Maya rolls her eyes. “Why do you want to see that ship so much anyway?”
“Because it’s going to Caprica!” he exclaims, throwing up his hands. But although he wants to say more, explain more, Gaius shuts up. It’s not like Maya would understand. She never does! Can’t she see how exciting it is, must be on Caprica? He’ll find a way to go there, he knows. He’ll learn how to speak properly and teach himself everything, and then he’ll be gone, gone from this frakking cold planet forever.
Hideously, he reminds himself firmly. Hideously cold planet.
But for now he has to hurry up. He’s going to see a ship launch to Caprica from a hill, and then they’ll run back home because mum will have their... their behinds... their derrières if they don’t show up for dinner.
She’ll have their derrières if they don’t come to dinner, no matter how hideously cold it is today.
Hah.
Characters: Baltar
Wordcount: ~ 300 words
Rating: Teen.
Beta: ebuchala without whom I should not try to write a story with this title
Spoilers: late s3; backstory
Summary: Twelve-year-old Gaius Baltar mixes business with pleasure.
Author’s Note: Because I said that I'd never write Baltar, and I said it a lot, and then I stopped believing myself.
And I still like feedback. ;)
Winters on Aerelon are frakking cold.
No, Gaius thinks, huddling tighter into his outworn cloak, striding down the town’s only road fast. That’s ‘very’. ‘Very’ cold.
Chewing on his lower lip, the twelve-year-old tries out other words, rolling them around on his tongue. Ghastly. Atrociously. Hideously cold.
He likes ‘hideously’. It sounds most dramatic.
Impatiently, he turns around. His sister is lagging behind again, looking at the displays of the town shops, both of which wouldn’t let them in anyway. “Hurry up!” he snaps. “We’ll miss the launch if you keep wasting time!”
“But I don’t wanna see no ship!” Maya complains. “I’m freezing. I wanna...”
“Want to,” Gaius interrupts her in a strict voice.
Maya rolls her eyes. “Why do you want to see that ship so much anyway?”
“Because it’s going to Caprica!” he exclaims, throwing up his hands. But although he wants to say more, explain more, Gaius shuts up. It’s not like Maya would understand. She never does! Can’t she see how exciting it is, must be on Caprica? He’ll find a way to go there, he knows. He’ll learn how to speak properly and teach himself everything, and then he’ll be gone, gone from this frakking cold planet forever.
Hideously, he reminds himself firmly. Hideously cold planet.
But for now he has to hurry up. He’s going to see a ship launch to Caprica from a hill, and then they’ll run back home because mum will have their... their behinds... their derrières if they don’t show up for dinner.
She’ll have their derrières if they don’t come to dinner, no matter how hideously cold it is today.
Hah.