Drabble Meme!

[selenak]

Note to self: answer emails from honorh and artaxastra. Read Emverse stories and HP meta by cadesama. Try to resist the allure of the drabble meme. Post the results of ignoring said sane advice.


Mr. Morden enjoyed his work. He was the most dedicated of employees, never doubting once the purpose or wisdom of his associates, never asking for free hours or a salary raise. Why should he, when urges like these were catered to before he was even aware that he had them?

But sometimes, even his unwavering zeal was severely tested. Spending endless hours hearing Vice President Clark ramble on about what he would do in Santiago's place was crushingly dull; being forced to go golfing with Clark afterwards was worse. And then Clark actually asked him to kneel down and pray with him for the success of their endeavour.

After this, Mr. Morden made a point of never asking a human politician what he wanted again. Clearly, his future lay in the alien sector.




There is a face she wears only in the mirror, or sometimes in cafes or spaceports, places full of anonymous people. She hasn't shown it to anyone else in years.

As Queen of Naboo, she was not supposed to have a face of her own anyway. That was why all Queens wore the ceremonial make-up while in office. Now her term is over, and the white face has been cleaned away for the last time. She does not quite know what to do with the one that remains. It is Padmé Naberrie's face, but it has become a disguise for Amidala, and now she is no longer convinced it ever was as real as the mask.

The boy, she thinks, suddenly. She had shown this face to the boy Anakin, and to him, it had been the truth.

Perhaps, if she saw him again, it would become the truth to her as well.



She looked at the mirror. It was an equisite piece from Bohemia; by now, she could tell these things. In her human life, which she remembered less and less and didn't particularily care to, she had never earned enough to afford a mirror like that, made of mercury, with the frame consisting of carefully carved ebony. Her fingertips touched the cherubic faces on each of the four corners. How very appropriate.

The surface, smooth and clear like the scratched bronze thing she had used as a human never had been, showed her everything she wanted to see. The room, draped in velvet curtains, with paintings that had never been allowed in the colonies. The charming pair of lovers she had drained to aquire it; they were far more decorative now that their voices were stilled.

Most of all, it did not show her any part of herself.


So, having played myself, here it comes:

Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to write a drabble with the same first line as one of my stories, and leave it in my comments here. Any fandom, any pairing, and you can interpret "drabble" as loosely as you want.



She is dying, and death does not come as a surprise to her.

I believed I would stop talking to you in my mind when I killed you.

"You're not serious."

Warren knew he hated Sunnydale the moment he saw it, but of course his mother didn't listen.

"I am, Ambassador."

Sex is not linear.

Both of them were, of course, considerably drunk.

There was a vague familiarity about the girl which he could not quite identify.

There had never been a time when they had been alone, and so there was an aptness about their fate that held the elegance of a poem.

Connor wasn’t sure what he had expected to find.

She was tired, tired beyond belief when he showed up.

Obi-Wan Kenobi had not visited Mos Espa for years.

The first time it happened, it was to make a point as much as for any other reason.

"The love of the Prophets," Bareil once told Winn, "is unconditional."

She is running, running, and the night around her shields her with it s
cool, whispering airs.

I also tried to catch up on the second presidential debate. Behold the snark version here.

Comments

[selenak.livejournal.com]

Nothing to forgive - I'm all for the Zhaan/Stark angst!