04-07-2010, 07:29 AM
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WC 315.
One of my worst written yet. Apologies, I've been away for a while. Bit out of practise...
The words of the song floated down the corridors of the cruise ship, meeting Lucia's auds only when the singer stood at her doorway. Having given all her attention to the pages of her book, she had thought little of the singing at first; maybe a passerby, or somebody on the shoreline. Yet, as the volume increased, she felt herself drawn to the strange musical male. Glancing upward, her emerald eyes fell atop him cautiously. His coyote eyes seemed strained and small, there was a scent around him that could of driven Lucia mad – years and years of abuse had made that a welcoming smell; the smell of peace and quiet, of everyone and everything getting along. It was the scent of pleasure.
“You have an interesting singing voice,” the ebony female whispered, her tone polite and reassuringly kind. It wasn't always the side of her that others saw, but this male seemed hardly threatening, thus she had lowered her guard and spoken out freely. Placing her book at her side, a single page bent to mark her location in the text, she smiled at the coyote. “I'm Lucia,” she couldn't help but laugh slightly, unable to hold in the remarks which now slid off her pinkish tongue, “--and you're stoned... Heh.”
Remaining seated, the female signaled for the stranger to have a seat. She pondered on retrieving the half empty bottle of Jack Daniels from her rucksack, yet the thought quickly vanished. It was probably not a good idea – many had gone on bad trips after mixing substances. She should know, she was one of the statistics.
“Okay, seriously now,” she finally whispered, waiting to see if he would take up her offer of a seat, or whether he would simply carry on his merry way through the labyrinth of rooms this ship possessed. “What's your name?”
WC 315.
One of my worst written yet. Apologies, I've been away for a while. Bit out of practise...
The words of the song floated down the corridors of the cruise ship, meeting Lucia's auds only when the singer stood at her doorway. Having given all her attention to the pages of her book, she had thought little of the singing at first; maybe a passerby, or somebody on the shoreline. Yet, as the volume increased, she felt herself drawn to the strange musical male. Glancing upward, her emerald eyes fell atop him cautiously. His coyote eyes seemed strained and small, there was a scent around him that could of driven Lucia mad – years and years of abuse had made that a welcoming smell; the smell of peace and quiet, of everyone and everything getting along. It was the scent of pleasure.
“You have an interesting singing voice,” the ebony female whispered, her tone polite and reassuringly kind. It wasn't always the side of her that others saw, but this male seemed hardly threatening, thus she had lowered her guard and spoken out freely. Placing her book at her side, a single page bent to mark her location in the text, she smiled at the coyote. “I'm Lucia,” she couldn't help but laugh slightly, unable to hold in the remarks which now slid off her pinkish tongue, “--and you're stoned... Heh.”
Remaining seated, the female signaled for the stranger to have a seat. She pondered on retrieving the half empty bottle of Jack Daniels from her rucksack, yet the thought quickly vanished. It was probably not a good idea – many had gone on bad trips after mixing substances. She should know, she was one of the statistics.
“Okay, seriously now,” she finally whispered, waiting to see if he would take up her offer of a seat, or whether he would simply carry on his merry way through the labyrinth of rooms this ship possessed. “What's your name?”