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Thursday, April 24, 2008

Drop The Needle #2

Zoe has been shanghaied into the LOP army. She was captured during an attack on a planet where her father served as ambassador.
Zoë sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand and curled tighter into a fetal position. The trainers would come soon. There was little sleep around here, little time to wallow in misery. She shivered and rolled over.

A noise, the sound of shuffling near her, caused her to grab tightly to her boots under her pillow. They were hers, she wasn't giving them up. They'd have to kill her first. The footsteps drew closer, and the end of her mattress sank down, making the springs squeak.

"Leave me alone."

A scratchy wool blanket fell onto her. Its warmth, almost instantaneous. "I'm a friend."

The voice was deep, soft, barely a whisper, and male. Zoë clutched the blanket in her fists and drew her legs up tighter. "Go away."

"It's cold in here." The man moved closer now sitting by her hips.

"Yes, now leave." Now that she had the blanket, she feared its loss. "Please."

"You can't back down. Every time you do, they gain more ground."

Zoë, listened to his breath in the dark, unable to see him, but she could feel the heat of his body against her hip.

"We could keep each other warm." His hand reached out and stroked down her thigh through the blanket.

"No." She'd heard the sounds of mating at night, females who gave their bodies for favors. She was not one of them, nor did she intend to become one.

"We can just hold one another, share the heat. Please. I'm cold. You have my only blanket."

Zoë clutched it tighter. Could she take his blanket and leave him in the cold? She sighed and scooted over. "Okay. Share heat. No sex."

"No sex." He whispered and slid down on to the cot next to her, climbing under the covers. "My name is Malachi." He curled up behind her, cupping his body to hers.

"Zoë." She closed her eyes and savored the warmth. It was nice. She'd been so long without human contact. A hug, a touch. It almost felt foreign to her.

"What's that on your back?" His hand slid under her shirt and stroked up her spine.

Zoë shot away from him and the heavenly heat. "Don't touch me." His hand had burned into her.
He pulled her back into his arms, back to the warmth. "If you don't want to say, I will respect that. Only curious."
DESPAIR

9 comments:

  1. I want to know what's on her back, too!

    I like this. I'm not sure "despair" was the predominant feeling when I read; I was more in tune with her wariness, her self-protection mode. But yes, the despair is there, too.

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  2. I agree with authoress. I also feel determination to not give up.

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  3. I really like this and want to read more!

    However, I don't see despair here. Stubbornness, a little depression, but not despair.

    Even so, I want to know what's going on and what's on her back. :)

    ~Merc

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  4. I see great wariness; she seems a bundle of nerves, even though she's about to fray apart. And as to the back--is it the guy trying to creep around her no-sex request, or does she really have something on her back that she doesn't want to make public knowledge?

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  5. I would agree with everyone else--I feel like she's accepted this situation as much as she can, and is more wary and protective of what control she still has. I think a small amount of innocence comes through too, with her observed thoughts on 'mating', almost like it was something she knew about, but had not experienced. Good work--watch all those '-ed verb'actions in the first sentence tho.

    (Like the voice, too) :-)

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  6. Yes, there's something on her back.
    Merc, you can find the rough in the WIP under Legionarii. Chapter two will show you what's on her back. :)

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  7. Ooh! Cool, thanks, Dawn! *goes to look*

    ~Merc

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  8. This is not a genre I usually read, but I enjoyed it somewhat. I also did not sense despair, but wariness, and her having her guard up.

    I did have a problem with this part.

    A scratchy wool blanket fell onto her. Its warmth, almost instantaneous. "I'm a friend."

    The voice was deep, soft, barely a whisper, and male. Zoë clutched the blanket in her fists and drew her legs up tighter. "Go away."

    At first I thought the blanket was talking to her. I would change it so it read..

    A scratchy wool blanket fell onto her. Its warmth, almost instantaneous.

    "I'm a friend." The voice was deep, soft, barely a whisper, and male.

    Zoë clutched the blanket in her fists and drew her legs up tighter and pleaded, "Go away."

    Thank you for posting this.

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  9. *pout*

    *watching greedily as Merc reads about the whatever-it-is on her back*

    *more pout*

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