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rosiphelee*sighs*
I have too many WIPs and I can't seem to finish any of them. Of course playing with the new version of the eLouai dollmaker hasn't helped my productivity at all however relaxing it is after a stressful few days. I ended up making new dolls of Tiger and Ocelot and threw together a quick picture of the two of them, supposedly at some society do in Atlantis.
That added more characters to all those clamouring for attention. To fix that and prove that I can finish something I just gave myself 45 minutes to write something in that setting. I actually took an hour and a quarter to finish this but that includes the time I spent fact checking. Apologies if it sounds rushed.
There may have to be a sequel next time I need to clear my mind. I have a nasty feeling I may have to dig out an article on chimaeras as well because I only half-know what they are.
10.42pm, Wednesday 5th November, 2369, British Embassy, Riviera Place, Central Atlantis
Charlotte Fellows gazed out over Atlantis.
The city was bright beneath her, the streets throbbing with light and noise. There was still a hum of gunpowder in the air, from the display the embassy had provided earlier. She had applauded and cooed with the rest of the ambassador’s guests. A pretty young man beside her had asked whether they had fireworks on Colony. She had smiled politely and described Landing Day.
He had looked at her, that assessing gaze that made her hate these events, and asked her name.
“Oh,” she had said, lauging a little. “I’m Charlotte. Charlotte Fellows. I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”
Immediately, his manners had sharpened and he had bent over her hand, all polished courtesy. “Giorgio Tretheway. Of Patel, Heineken and Tretheway. Delighted to meet you.”
“You’re too kind, Mr Tretheway,” Charlotte had said. Minor space family scion, perpetually short of funds, popular amongst the young bloods of Atlantis’ upper set. He was on the guest list so he wasn’t what she was seeking. Could be useful, though.
She had let him get her a drink and escort her inside. He had introduced her to his set and she had giggled and flirted and sipped her champage. It was easy enough to act the ingenue, though she was careful not to seem any more naïve than would be appropriate for a space families brat. Her family hadn’t become the richest in the galaxy by raising stupid heirs.
Overprotected, yes.
Across the room her partner had been at work on the older guests, all charm and sly wit. They were pretending no more than a mild acquaintance but she kept a discreet watch. If the trouble should go from threat to danger they would need to act in concert.
Aurelia was scarcely inconspicuous, though, so it was easy enough to follow her progress across the room.
Her new coterie had been boasting about the city and all its various entertainments. She had shrugged and sighed disconsolately.
“I must admit that I’m disappointed. Atlantis is so frightfully dull. I had hoped for more.”
They had rushed to contradict her. She had listened carefully, noting anything that might be a clue. In the last month twelve decayed bodies had been found dumped on the docks. DNA tests had revealed that the bodies were not human but crude chimaeras, humans altered with animal DNA. The only substantial clue had been a chain of gold and platinum links found embedded in the naked flesh of the fourth chimaera. They had tried to trace them up from the docks and met walls of silence. Someone with substantial amounts of money was quickly and competently clearing the trail.
She sighed again and said, “I’ve done all that. I thought Atlantis would be more – well, more dangerous.” She had paused to sip her champagne again, as brash and spoilt as she had been two years ago. “My brother wouldn’t even let me off-planet until I finished school. I was expecting this to be more exciting.”
Someone had made a joke about venturing to the docks at night and she had wrinkled her nose and said, “The docks are revolting.”
It was the first true opinion she had expressed all evening.
The conversation had passed on to a condemnation of the poor quarters of the city. All were in agreement that something ought to be done. Very few could agree on what.
Charlotte had leant back, trying for an expression of ennui, and gazed across the room. Aurelia, swirling between groups, had caught her eye and raised an eyebrow slightly.
Any luck?
Not yet, Charlotte sent back, tight and private. I’ve been sowing seeds. You?
Not a thing. I’m picking up general concern from some groups.
“Bored of us already?” Giorgio had murmured in her ear.
She had giggled and said, “Don’t be silly. You’re fun.”
He had smiled and leant against the wall beside her. “Don’t look now but someone interesting just arrived.”
“Oh?” she said, breathy and a little tipsy. It was a good thing she had taken all her pills before they set out tonight. She would never have kept a clear head after this much champagne if it hadn’t been for the sobriety drugs.
“You mentioned you were bored. Are you really looking for a risk, Charlotte?”
She had smiled, a sly and over-clumsy attempt at flirtation. “I adore risks.”
“Excellent,” he had said and grinned. “I’ll see if Nix is willing to see you. I didn’t know if he would turn up tonight.”
“Why not?” she had asked.
Giorgio had chuckled. “He wasn’t invited. Nix is never invited.”
He had slipped away and Charlotte had thought sharply, Tiger. I’m on to something.
I’m monitoring and I caught that. Follow it through. And Ocelot?
Yeah?
Be careful.
Giorgio had returned to whisper to her, “If you’re serious, he’ll meet you outside. On the balcony.”
“I’m serious,” she had murmured and then stumbled. Giorgio had caught her and she had straightened with a loud giggle. “I think I need some fresh air. It’s frightfully stuffy in here. I’ll be back soon, darlings.”
Somebody had murmured, “Bloody Colonials. Can’t hold their drink.”
She had pouted. “I’m not drunk. I’m just hot.” Then she had stalked again, making sure to weave a little as she passed through the party.
Now she was out here, waiting for Nix.
It was strange to be back in this world, the one she had so angrily abjured. She had sworn never to live off her name, to cast it all aside. She had paid the price of recklessness and learnt to compromise. It seemed somehow bitterly ironic that, having found a purpose, she should now pretend to be purposeless.
The door sighed open behind her. She tried not to tense and thrust all other thoughts aside. She had a mask to wear, even if this time it was marked with her own name. She was Charlotte Fellow, bored heiress to the richest man in existence, alone in the big city for the first time in her life.
The door closed again and a soft voice said, “Miss Fellows. My name is Nix.”
She turned and said petulantly, “Mr Nix. I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Better men do,” Nix said, his voice cool with disdain. “Mr Tretheway informs me you are looking for entertainment.”
“This place is dull,” she said, leaning back on the rail of the balcony. The whole of Atlantis was waiting beneath her.
Nix stepped forward and now, by the lights of the building opposite, she could see his face. He was handsome, in a way that was not outstanding enough to attract particular attention. His eyes were pale, almost yellow, and there was something about him, a whiff of something foul.
She hid her shields behind layers of vacuous thought, of images of bright city lights and pretty clothes and money easily spent. She was just in time for she felt something thin and greasy brush the edges of her mind and then withdraw.
“Ah, Miss Fellows, but are you suited to the particular sort of entertainment I can offer?”
She had raised a disdainful eyebrow. “Mr Nix, if you wish to imply anything sordid, do recall we are on the balcony of the British embassy.”
“The kitten has claws,” he said and laughed softly.
Charlotte felt herself tense. Was he implying he knew?
“A pretty kitten it is, too,” Nix said, drawing nearer. “A pampered pet. Has it ever wanted anything more?”
“I should think the answer is obvious,” Charlotte said, toying with her empty glass. “I was warned this city was dangerous, Mr Nix. I was told to be wary of charming strangers. How sad that I have yet to meet any.”
Nix smiled and she blinked. Something was wrong with his teeth. For a moment, she thought about vampires and panicked. Then she forced it back. She had been reassured there were no such thing and by an expert. There were, however, men who would gladly consume souls, though they would not suck her blood.
“Any danger, kitten? Or any charming strangers?”
“Both.”
“Danger can be arranged. For someone suitably discreet and, of course, for a suitable price.”
She had sniffed. “Mr Nix, I am a Fellows.” As far as she was concerned that should answer both questions.
He laughed and this time she managed a proper look at his teeth. He did indeed have pointed canines but the rest of his teeth were sharp, too. Like a cat’s.
“Do you work, Miss Fellows?”
“For the company,” she said, not feigning disgust. “In shipping.”
“How delightful,” he murmured. “Well, Miss Fellows in shipping, wait and you may receive an invitation.”
“I look forward to it, Mr Nix.”
Then he was gone, backing into the bright room.
Charlotte waited until he was gone and took a deep breath. She was in.
I have too many WIPs and I can't seem to finish any of them. Of course playing with the new version of the eLouai dollmaker hasn't helped my productivity at all however relaxing it is after a stressful few days. I ended up making new dolls of Tiger and Ocelot and threw together a quick picture of the two of them, supposedly at some society do in Atlantis.
That added more characters to all those clamouring for attention. To fix that and prove that I can finish something I just gave myself 45 minutes to write something in that setting. I actually took an hour and a quarter to finish this but that includes the time I spent fact checking. Apologies if it sounds rushed.
There may have to be a sequel next time I need to clear my mind. I have a nasty feeling I may have to dig out an article on chimaeras as well because I only half-know what they are.
10.42pm, Wednesday 5th November, 2369, British Embassy, Riviera Place, Central Atlantis
Charlotte Fellows gazed out over Atlantis.
The city was bright beneath her, the streets throbbing with light and noise. There was still a hum of gunpowder in the air, from the display the embassy had provided earlier. She had applauded and cooed with the rest of the ambassador’s guests. A pretty young man beside her had asked whether they had fireworks on Colony. She had smiled politely and described Landing Day.
He had looked at her, that assessing gaze that made her hate these events, and asked her name.
“Oh,” she had said, lauging a little. “I’m Charlotte. Charlotte Fellows. I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”
Immediately, his manners had sharpened and he had bent over her hand, all polished courtesy. “Giorgio Tretheway. Of Patel, Heineken and Tretheway. Delighted to meet you.”
“You’re too kind, Mr Tretheway,” Charlotte had said. Minor space family scion, perpetually short of funds, popular amongst the young bloods of Atlantis’ upper set. He was on the guest list so he wasn’t what she was seeking. Could be useful, though.
She had let him get her a drink and escort her inside. He had introduced her to his set and she had giggled and flirted and sipped her champage. It was easy enough to act the ingenue, though she was careful not to seem any more naïve than would be appropriate for a space families brat. Her family hadn’t become the richest in the galaxy by raising stupid heirs.
Overprotected, yes.
Across the room her partner had been at work on the older guests, all charm and sly wit. They were pretending no more than a mild acquaintance but she kept a discreet watch. If the trouble should go from threat to danger they would need to act in concert.
Aurelia was scarcely inconspicuous, though, so it was easy enough to follow her progress across the room.
Her new coterie had been boasting about the city and all its various entertainments. She had shrugged and sighed disconsolately.
“I must admit that I’m disappointed. Atlantis is so frightfully dull. I had hoped for more.”
They had rushed to contradict her. She had listened carefully, noting anything that might be a clue. In the last month twelve decayed bodies had been found dumped on the docks. DNA tests had revealed that the bodies were not human but crude chimaeras, humans altered with animal DNA. The only substantial clue had been a chain of gold and platinum links found embedded in the naked flesh of the fourth chimaera. They had tried to trace them up from the docks and met walls of silence. Someone with substantial amounts of money was quickly and competently clearing the trail.
She sighed again and said, “I’ve done all that. I thought Atlantis would be more – well, more dangerous.” She had paused to sip her champagne again, as brash and spoilt as she had been two years ago. “My brother wouldn’t even let me off-planet until I finished school. I was expecting this to be more exciting.”
Someone had made a joke about venturing to the docks at night and she had wrinkled her nose and said, “The docks are revolting.”
It was the first true opinion she had expressed all evening.
The conversation had passed on to a condemnation of the poor quarters of the city. All were in agreement that something ought to be done. Very few could agree on what.
Charlotte had leant back, trying for an expression of ennui, and gazed across the room. Aurelia, swirling between groups, had caught her eye and raised an eyebrow slightly.
Any luck?
Not yet, Charlotte sent back, tight and private. I’ve been sowing seeds. You?
Not a thing. I’m picking up general concern from some groups.
“Bored of us already?” Giorgio had murmured in her ear.
She had giggled and said, “Don’t be silly. You’re fun.”
He had smiled and leant against the wall beside her. “Don’t look now but someone interesting just arrived.”
“Oh?” she said, breathy and a little tipsy. It was a good thing she had taken all her pills before they set out tonight. She would never have kept a clear head after this much champagne if it hadn’t been for the sobriety drugs.
“You mentioned you were bored. Are you really looking for a risk, Charlotte?”
She had smiled, a sly and over-clumsy attempt at flirtation. “I adore risks.”
“Excellent,” he had said and grinned. “I’ll see if Nix is willing to see you. I didn’t know if he would turn up tonight.”
“Why not?” she had asked.
Giorgio had chuckled. “He wasn’t invited. Nix is never invited.”
He had slipped away and Charlotte had thought sharply, Tiger. I’m on to something.
I’m monitoring and I caught that. Follow it through. And Ocelot?
Yeah?
Be careful.
Giorgio had returned to whisper to her, “If you’re serious, he’ll meet you outside. On the balcony.”
“I’m serious,” she had murmured and then stumbled. Giorgio had caught her and she had straightened with a loud giggle. “I think I need some fresh air. It’s frightfully stuffy in here. I’ll be back soon, darlings.”
Somebody had murmured, “Bloody Colonials. Can’t hold their drink.”
She had pouted. “I’m not drunk. I’m just hot.” Then she had stalked again, making sure to weave a little as she passed through the party.
Now she was out here, waiting for Nix.
It was strange to be back in this world, the one she had so angrily abjured. She had sworn never to live off her name, to cast it all aside. She had paid the price of recklessness and learnt to compromise. It seemed somehow bitterly ironic that, having found a purpose, she should now pretend to be purposeless.
The door sighed open behind her. She tried not to tense and thrust all other thoughts aside. She had a mask to wear, even if this time it was marked with her own name. She was Charlotte Fellow, bored heiress to the richest man in existence, alone in the big city for the first time in her life.
The door closed again and a soft voice said, “Miss Fellows. My name is Nix.”
She turned and said petulantly, “Mr Nix. I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Better men do,” Nix said, his voice cool with disdain. “Mr Tretheway informs me you are looking for entertainment.”
“This place is dull,” she said, leaning back on the rail of the balcony. The whole of Atlantis was waiting beneath her.
Nix stepped forward and now, by the lights of the building opposite, she could see his face. He was handsome, in a way that was not outstanding enough to attract particular attention. His eyes were pale, almost yellow, and there was something about him, a whiff of something foul.
She hid her shields behind layers of vacuous thought, of images of bright city lights and pretty clothes and money easily spent. She was just in time for she felt something thin and greasy brush the edges of her mind and then withdraw.
“Ah, Miss Fellows, but are you suited to the particular sort of entertainment I can offer?”
She had raised a disdainful eyebrow. “Mr Nix, if you wish to imply anything sordid, do recall we are on the balcony of the British embassy.”
“The kitten has claws,” he said and laughed softly.
Charlotte felt herself tense. Was he implying he knew?
“A pretty kitten it is, too,” Nix said, drawing nearer. “A pampered pet. Has it ever wanted anything more?”
“I should think the answer is obvious,” Charlotte said, toying with her empty glass. “I was warned this city was dangerous, Mr Nix. I was told to be wary of charming strangers. How sad that I have yet to meet any.”
Nix smiled and she blinked. Something was wrong with his teeth. For a moment, she thought about vampires and panicked. Then she forced it back. She had been reassured there were no such thing and by an expert. There were, however, men who would gladly consume souls, though they would not suck her blood.
“Any danger, kitten? Or any charming strangers?”
“Both.”
“Danger can be arranged. For someone suitably discreet and, of course, for a suitable price.”
She had sniffed. “Mr Nix, I am a Fellows.” As far as she was concerned that should answer both questions.
He laughed and this time she managed a proper look at his teeth. He did indeed have pointed canines but the rest of his teeth were sharp, too. Like a cat’s.
“Do you work, Miss Fellows?”
“For the company,” she said, not feigning disgust. “In shipping.”
“How delightful,” he murmured. “Well, Miss Fellows in shipping, wait and you may receive an invitation.”
“I look forward to it, Mr Nix.”
Then he was gone, backing into the bright room.
Charlotte waited until he was gone and took a deep breath. She was in.
