On Hiatus

I'm taking a short break from the internet for August, so this blog will be a little quiet for the rest of the month and into the first week of September. In the meantime, there are scheduled posts going up every Wednesday at my cosplay blog - The Intergalactic Seamstress - and at the review blog Critique de Book, plus the odd up to date post at Spacefreighters Lounge on a Tuesday (or you can find my fellow crew mates posting Monday-Friday). See you when September comes! 

Sunday, 23 October 2011

Scifi Sunday #9


Hi all, and welcome to another #scifi snippet this Sunday. No more Gethyon as the MS is out on submission, so I've pulled out another WIP with the working title of Samaritan. The main character in this story is Quin. This is one of her many adventures before her part in both Gethyon and Keir.

Quin stared out of the castle window and across the fields to the circle. Her legs trembled with the effort of standing and pains still gouged their way through her abdomen and back, pulses of agony that snagged her breath each time they seized her.
You can’t leave now.
Talien’s voice came soft and warm as a summer breeze into her mind, but it only intensified the pain. Quin squeezed her eyes shut against the tears, refusing to give in to them, to any of it. She would not be ruled by the past, by the Rion, by the pain. Her fate was her own choice.
“I can’t stay here.” Her reversion to physical speech, something only the damaged would use, would hurt Talien’s feelings. She knew it, and yet couldn't bring herself to open her mind to her friend. She had to be strong now, she had to do this …
No you don’t. Talien’s voice was full of tears and broke through the fragile walls Quin had raised against them. The pain thickened, crushing her chest, and she grasped the window sill for support.
“Leave me be,” Quin whispered.
“You haven’t even named them, Quin. You didn’t even look at them.”
Quin gasped. She had never heard Talien speak before. For a Rion to do so was close to blasphemy, and deserved a response. “Call the girl Callon.” More pain touched her at the use of that name, but it was an old hurt, scarred over now. “The boy is Gethyon.”
More warmth and a hint of gratitude washed over her. Gethyon had been the name of Talien’s father, an Eldar of the Rion held in high regard. It was a small gift to her friend when she had nothing else left to give.

© 2009-2011 Copyright Philippa J. Green All Rights Reserved 




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