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A Sorceress and A Witch

http://cghub.com/images/view/93768/
http://www.flickr.com/photos/jrslm/2046856319/sizes/m/

Rhoda conjured another daemon like a juggler practicing his knives. Her coalesce became a dancer in flame. The unused vapor swirled for a moment like a silk scarf then tore away in gust. Her black and gray-lavendar hair threatened the same.

The edge of the Viyi alter was too high to sit on comfortably, but she did so anyway. Her unsheathed dagger completed the sacrilige.

“You look like Viy’s Cunt sitting there, girl. Get up,” Wendel said.

Rhoda raised her chin and tightened her grip on the dagger but nothing else.

The Black Kite on Wendel’s shoulder spread it’s wings and arrowed it’s beak at Rhoda.

117 words on day 583

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I Know I Missed Saturday

I think I need to lock down what it is I find appealing about the institutional mage before I can crack those stories. I worry the idea reflects a figment of the world of my day job. That I’m searching more for a way to make my life seem interesting when it’s not than I’m looking for a way to play magic in a story that I’ve not seen done in the past.

I hope to return to the Maker’s Marcail thread this coming week. I’ve dropped that since I thought I was pushing it too hard before I’d worked out the physics of that world. Plus, I realized I was working with factions who needed definition before I brought them out to play.

Maybe the most fun I had this past week came from the parkour illustration I found on CGHub. Just now checking, turns out last week is when I wrote Chasing Jace. I’ll have to come back to that story. It had Romeo and Juliet feel to it.

180 words on day 582

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Not Just a Warm Body

Presuming the door was older than the ones she used in the newer building G, she tried a more emphatic approach. She placed her foot on the glyph and her hand on the wall. When she pushed she felt the door there this time. It felt found but locked. She tried again, still locked. Donna would have to come back out and get her.

The older woman appeared back in the hallway looking more frustrated than apologetic. “Sorry. Give me your wrist,” Donna said.

Kera offered her right one, but, shaking her head, Donna snatched up the left instead. The MPM stripped the backing off the end of a one-use Tyvek wristband with her teeth and looped it snuggly around Kera’s wrist.

“Is there anything I need to know, or am I just a warm body?”

“That’s tight. Sorry. Mr. Crainstock just spelled it. Let me know when it’s warm, huh?”

“Crainstock?” Kera didn’t know if that added or subtracted from the strangeness of the evening, but it was unexpected.

“Mr. Crainstock, Miss Woods.”

“He…ooo!…it’s ready.” Kera held up the wristband.

Donna smiled, “Juiced it, huh?”

“Just a little.”

“Kera?” Donna asked permission to use her first name and Kera assented. “Kera, I know this is all very unexpected. It’s not how I’d planned this evening to go either as you can imagine. This is real magic in here—not the mundane stuff you’ve been doing on the bench. It will feel the same, probably, but it isn’t. And, yes, you are a warm body, but you don’t have to be just a warm body.” Donna pulled her through the door.

215 words on day 581