Winter brought icy rain to Traiana, and bitingly cold winds whistled through the streets of the city. Indeed, the weather was so bad that some started to worry it would ruin this year's Saturnalia.

#WIPQuote
#HistoricalRomance
#MaiusAndCaomh

"...The Tuatha Dé Danann were probably drunk or crazy to let this to happen."

"The who-what-now? The toota-nan?" Scarlex shook the translator, worried it had broken.

#WipQuote
Just too #Funny !

*"We. Are. Boarding. Do. Not. Fear."*

"That's what they always say in the movies, before the killing spree," someone commented. Roddy forgave the comment. The person was probably nervous, like all of them.

A sharp hiss sounded from the airlock. Roddy knew this took a few seconds, and then the inner door would open.

#WipQuote

"If that's true... then they may be the original inhabitants of this place." He felt a cold spell running down his spine. "And they may have seen us pushing dead people out of the airlock. Damn it. That might give off an entirely wrong signal. As if *we* killed them and are discarding them."

#WipQuote

Sometimes cleaning up a place can have odd consequences...

A murmur went through the crowd, about their coming task. Sally understood that and gave them some time to get to grips with it. This was now becoming real, and hauling dead people around was new to most everyone.

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*The previous inhabitants* sounded a lot better than *the dead bodies*.

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"People who are stationed in rooms up to number 100 go left, the others go right. A few folks are writing the numbers on the rooms as I speak, so I need to keep talking for a while to give them enough time for that."

#WipQuote

have a #WIPQuote from my #militarySF novel "Nemesis"

Lancaster stared at his PDA, the photo he had taken of himself and Jon at the hotel splashed across the small screen.
He bit his lip. He'd had a suspicion that the Terran lawyer was military ever since he had first laid eyes on him, but he had never tried to find out. But he would never stop wondering if he didn't at least try, and he couldn't afford that kind of distraction.
He opened the Spacefleet's foreign personnel database. They had profiles of many Terran Spacefleet officers, and if Jon was one of them, he was probably in there.
Lancaster wasn't sure how to spell his name — with or without an 'h' — so he typed in both as spelling variants. He was almost relieved when the first dozen entries didn't look anything like him. Then he saw his picture, and the name beside it: Commander Jon Stefan Rasmussen, Terran Commonwealth Spacefleet.
He opened the file. The same short blond hair and russet brown eyes, the same light skin, without the tan. The last assignment they had on file was recent enough, making him the executive officer aboard the patrol cruiser TCS Claymore, stationed in Tseen Ke. Far away from Proxima, and far away from the soon-to-be front.
"Please stay out there," Lancaster said to Jon's photo, only now realizing how much he liked him. And how scared he was himself.

#WritingCommunity

"Basic ghostery is difficult."

"How can that be difficult if it's basic?" Bruce frowned.

"Because you have to be there to do things, and make sure people don't notice it's you unless they have to. At the same time they can't see you but they hope you're there."

#WipQuote

#WIPQuote from The Darklight's War...

Lesura is recounting details of Yezreth, to the Herald of the Darklight.

#epicfantasy #noblebright #noblebrightfantasy

#WIPQUOTE #EpicFantasy

A doomsday prophet from The Darklight's War...

"You can call me Miku, or Mrs Watanabe," Miku said. "Or 幽霊女, if you dare." She smiled at the puzzled faces. "Yurei Onna means Ghost Woman. It's Japanese. Why it's Japanese might be obvious."

Bruce frowned. "Youree Honor?" His reward was a stream of Japanese which sounded like the long version of 'no'.

#WipQuote

"Oh dayum... Not even a beauty sleep?" the man asked.

"You're a bit late starting with that, buster," Patrick said, and ducked away from the fist that sped towards his face.

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"What was that about?"

"He thinks I'm clever," Emma said.

"And cute," Jeff added, for the record. "And what's that you got there?"

Jo-Anne waved the sheet over Emma's head. "Proof that the skeleton is Uncle Earl."

#WipQuote #EmmaNelson4

day 21 #WritingWonders description

from the same story as yesterday

The night Wrath came to the city, the streets ran red with the blood of the mighty. But before the blood came the rain, pouring down from a blackened sky, washing the smog out of the air and the filth off the tarmac. And with it came the first cold winds of autumn.
Those who could, stayed inside. Those who couldn't, sought shelter to the best of their ability, crowding the metro stations and shopping malls, leaving the streets empty for the denizens of the night to roam.
Fourteen hours of darkness lay ahead, darkness filled with the incessant patter of rain and the hum of large engines. More than enough for the one named after the deadliest of sins to complete xyr mission.

Perched on the ledge of a roof like a gargoyle on ancient Earth cathedral, the voidbrood waited for the city below to fall asleep. A hulking figure dressed for combat, a dark form against a darker sky, indifferent to the gales tugging at xyr mane and the cold rain running down xyr scarred face.
Five stories down and across a narrow alley lay a rooftop terrace, little more than a large balcony. Once it might have hosted a garden, but now all that was left were crumbling flower beds and rotting boxes stacked in one corner, the tile floor slick with rain and stained golden by the light falling through the patio door.
Wrath stared into the glowing puddle, xyr remaining eye half closed, gaze fixed on the chaotic patterns of splashing raindrops, short-lived wave circles and bouncing light reflections.
But xe didn't see any of it. Xyr attention was on the tactical HUD projected on xyr retina, the map overlay splashed across xyr field of vision. In the background, the slaved MI plotted routes off street level, synchronizing pathways with local GPS relayed by *Warranty Void* parked outside city limits. Last-minute adjustments to a plan that wouldn't survive contact with reality.

#WritingCommunity #WIPQuote

They went back inside, while Emma stated she'd never been happier dealing with a skeleton than at this instant.

#WipQuote EmmaNelson4

"I don't believe in an afterlife," Patrick said. "Just so you know that."

"Duly noted, good man," said Mortimer, "although I doubt the afterlife will be bothered by your opinion."

#WipQuote

"...I should wait for the ambulance. Or the police. Or someone. Right?"

"Wrong," the man said. "Now come out. I can't drag you out, because I'm like you."

"You're a trucker too?"

"No. I'm dead too."

#WipQuote

have yet another #WIPQuote bc why not

Two days.
Two days in the battlecruiser's brig with nothing to distract him from the uniformly grey walls.
Rasmussen buried his face in the pillow. He wanted to get out, talk to somebody. Even the brig guard, Private Kuwano, refused to say much more than "bôswar" and "enjoy your meal" when they brought him food. Damn good food, not just by Spacefleet standards, but it didn't make up for the intense boredom.
If Lancaster wanted to make him talk by depriving him of human contact beyond the bare minimum, he was absolutely succeeding. Rasmussen's DNI didn't give him access to anything — no surprise there — and they had taken his PDA, so he wasn't even able to read.

#WritingCommunity #AmwritingSciFi #ScienceFiction

"Right. Your dead person is a dead man. Probably in his mid thirties when he got a bullet in the back of his head. We may have to go back to look for the bullet, we didn't find it in the skull."

#WipQuote