Yet another Readers on Deadline, this time with Sterling and his brother. The more I find out about Sterling and his world, the more I love him.

( 'I don't need protection...' )

Another Readers on Deadline entry. I really loved this one and fell in love with Daniel and Sterling hard and fast. Hopefully they'll be around to stay for a long while yet.

( 'Tell me why...' )

Done for the Readers on Deadline. The second pic in the entry. Nice and sci-fi-y.

( 'Put this on...' )

Original link to the Readers on Deadline.

( The Crafter dismissed me almost immediately. )

Because my journal is lacking in entries, I thought I'd post some prompt fiction I did for the Deadline Dames. Here's the original prompt link w/ pic. Readers on Deadline.

( His Sight plays tricks with him... )

The Merry Sisters of Fate are holding a contest and I thought I'd have a go at the prompt for it.



“Your fate is writ in the stars, sir knight. As is my own. This tryst between us must now be no more than a passing fancy. “

“To discard our love so cavalierly… It ill suits you.”

“As do you, sir knight.”

“You cannot say you do not love me.”

“What I say to you now is fare thee well and may God grant you safe journeys.”

Cut!

As soon as the word left the director’s mouth, Gillian felt her shoulders sag in relief. The set was beautiful, the script wasn’t bad, and all of the cast and crew were really friendlier than she had any right to expect but still… She wanted nothing more than to wind things up and go the hell home.

“Tired?” a familiar voice said at her elbow.

She gave Kellan a smile and a shrug. “Find out anything?” So we can get this over with and get paid? was left unsaid.

“Aside from discovering just how awful the catering is?” He crossed his arms and frowned. Around them the set techs jumped into action moving cameras and adjusting lighting. They looked like a swarm of well-mannered ants. “Miss McCauley is sleeping with the director,” he added after a moment.

“It would have been more surprising if she wasn’t,” she replied, half-heartedly. Especially with the way the two of them had been hanging all over each other off set. It was hard to miss. In fact, Gillian suspected it wasn’t missed at all, but largely ignored altogether.

Sighing, she stretched out her arms and felt her joints pop. “But as interesting as the love affairs of the moderately rich and famous are and your penchant for hording gossip aside, how goes things on the supernatural front? You know, the whole reason we’re investigating a supposedly haunted film production.”

He rolled his eyes but there was a smile on his lips. “Must you ruin all my fun?” He sighed dramatically, which turned into a laugh, and then a cough as he straightened and pulled the most serious face he could muster.

“I checked out the dressing rooms,” he said, leaning back against the wall. “The fire could easily be explained by some frankly appalling electrical work. Overloaded outlets, shoddy wiring.”

She nodded. “Okay. Mundane. That’s good.”

He rolled his eyes to her and arched a brow. “I said could be explained. Not necessarily is.”

“Oh? And what crucial clue did you stumble across?”

His whole face shuttered closed, emotions draining into sudden, calculated apathy, and he hunched his shoulders uneasily. “I smelled brimstone,“ he said quietly.

Her heart stuttered and her stomach dropped somewhere in the vicinity of her shoes. Scalpel-precision pain flared dully under her breastbone and the bitter, chalky taste of ash clung heavily to the back of her throat, reminding her of charred flesh and graveyards. She had seen enough of both for her liking.

Kellan shifted, body tensed and wound spring-tight. He was afraid. She didn’t blame him though. So was she. But they were the professionals, that’s why they were here. They dealt with this sort of thing all the time. They were capable and prepared. They could do this. They would do this. They would suck it up, do their jobs, collect their earnings, and never again visit a haunted film set as long as they both lived.

It was then that the lights of the sound stage flickered ominously once, twice, and went out. There was silence for a moment, complete and heavy, then the chattering of the film crew started up and people began to move, scuffling and stumbling around blindly, searching for anything that could offer light. Gillian listened carefully, kept rock-still, Kellan’s presence beside her keeping her grounded. It was just the dark and she wasn’t a child. She was not going to panic.

“What are the chances this thing’s still in the dressing rooms?” she asked quietly.

The words hadn’t left her mouth before the screaming started. The stench of smoke hit her a second later, acrid and choking.

“Pretty good, I’d say,” Kellan said, breathlessly. “Exit, stage right?”

She swallowed down the fear clawing its way up her throat, took a deep breath, and let resolve stiffen her spine and tamp down any doubts she had. She reached out, curled her hand around his and squeezed tight.

“Time to make our debut,” she said, and even in the dark she swore she could see him smile.