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fiction_drabblesTitle: Fishing
Challenge/Prompt: #17: Night
Original Fiction
Rating: PG (implied violence)
Summary: In the Lower City, no one and nothing is safe.
Author's Notes: Toying around with a new setting. Might muck about with some more drabbles tied to the same story.
The air was silk against his skin, the Lower City smog thick as water tonight. Rook was a fish, moving by touch. Here's the old lamp near where Old Jack was murdered—feel the pictograph gang-signs the Wildboys carved—and here, at last, the familiar doorway. He ducked inside, expecting jeers of greeting.
Instead, “You're late,” purred a voice that affected the languid drawl of nobility. Unfamiliar. Who? Even inside, the haze was thick. Rook shoved his goggles up.
The ambush came from either side, thugs' knives more sure than fishermen's spears. Rook glared accusation, lifting his hands.
Caught.
Challenge/Prompt: #17: Night
Original Fiction
Rating: PG (implied violence)
Summary: In the Lower City, no one and nothing is safe.
Author's Notes: Toying around with a new setting. Might muck about with some more drabbles tied to the same story.
The air was silk against his skin, the Lower City smog thick as water tonight. Rook was a fish, moving by touch. Here's the old lamp near where Old Jack was murdered—feel the pictograph gang-signs the Wildboys carved—and here, at last, the familiar doorway. He ducked inside, expecting jeers of greeting.
Instead, “You're late,” purred a voice that affected the languid drawl of nobility. Unfamiliar. Who? Even inside, the haze was thick. Rook shoved his goggles up.
The ambush came from either side, thugs' knives more sure than fishermen's spears. Rook glared accusation, lifting his hands.
Caught.