Anyway, at the beginning of the year spikesgirl58 started a 'Six Words' writing challenge to get people back into writing. Basically she uses a programme that generates six words and we have up to 100 words to write something. It can be a drabble, a poem, a few lines or even a sentence (which one week spikesgirl58 actually did) anything as long as it includes the six words and is a maximum of 100 words. The words don't have to be exact word, they can be an expanded version, e.g. 'exude' can be 'exuded', 'poison' can be 'poisoned' etc. etc. As long as the word is there, be it as part of a longer word, it is fine. I assumed (oops, I didn't check) that it's also okay to use the British spelling of a word rather than the American spelling that spikesgirl58 posts.
spikesgirl58 posts the words on a Monday and we have until Friday to write something and then post it in comments on Spike's Friday post.
It is quite a challenge, I have to say. Six words out of 100 is actually tough going at times - especially if the words have nothing in common or indeed aren't words that one would use. However, a challenge isn't a challenge if it isn't slightly challenging (or even very challenging at times).
As well as a challenge it is also great fun and I can in all honesty say that getting the words each Monday is the highlight of my week (I hope that doesn't sound too sad).
I missed quite a few weeks as I wasn't around much due to various bugs, but I made a concerted effort to go back through all of Spike's posts, get the words and write the drabbles.
And having having written them all and given them titles (I know *g*) I thought I'd share them here. They are a mixture of fandoms (although most are Sapphire & Steel) and the vast majority of them are gen or an implied relationship. All are G rated. In a few cases I wrote more than one drabble for the set of words.
Family. Scan. Restrict. Bridge. Teach. Skin
From the shadows he watches her. His eyes scan her. The sunlight makes her skin shimmer. She looks happy. Yet where are her family and friends? Has she completely crossed the bridge from the world she used to inhabit to this one? He doesn't know.
He does know he must now teach himself to let her go. Even though he loves her and always will, he must restrict his thoughts of her. He must resign himself to her not being part of his life. This will be the last time he will see her. "Goodbye, Buffy," he murmurs. "Be happy."
Discrimination. Bride. Stress. Cart. Sugar. Infrastructure
"Discrimination! If I hear that word again, I'll scream." Buffy's stress was obvious as she threw chocolate bars into the shopping cart.
Willow was sure the sugar intake wouldn't help. "Buffy, maybe -"
"I know all about discrimination. I can't marry the guy I love in a normal place. Now that's discrimination!"
"It's not really -" Willow fell silent as Buffy glared. "But you are going to marry him. We've got the infrastructure in place to make it work. And you'll be a beautiful bride."
Buffy gave her a rueful look. "Love you, Will."
"Love you too, Buffy. Now let's go home."
Chip. Thesis. Lobby. Lake. Ban. Flatware
"Where's your flatware, Giles?" Buffy asked.
"Flatware. You know, knives, forks, spoons."
"Oh, you mean cutlery. It's in the drawer; the one with the chip in the wood." Giles could write a thesis on the strangeness of the American language. Once again he considered putting a ban on Buffy and her friends using non-British-English terminology in his presence.
Giles knew that tone. Buffy was about to lobby him for something. "Yes, Buffy?"
"Me, Willow and Xander are going to the lake later. Do you want to come?"
Even after all this time, Buffy could still surprise him.
Squash. Install. Eye. Brink. Withdrawal. Damage.
The damage done to her was so severe the doctors were talking about the withdrawal of life supporting care.
Tommy loved her deeply, but knew she wouldn't want to exist like this. He was on the brink of agreeing when her left eye twitched before opening.
He took her hand, taking care not to squash the drip. "I love you, Barbara."
"I know." She closed her eyes and slipped into a natural sleep.
He would need to install aides in his home before he took her there to recover, but he knew one thing: once there, she would never leave.
Appointment. Onion. Slant. Slump. Scene. Dozen.
Even for Gibbs, the crime scene was shocking.
More than two dozen bodies were scattered across the ground. Given the bodies weren't whole, the count could be even higher.
Bizarrely, one of the women still had an onion clutched in her hand.
"Puts a whole new slant on 'meat puzzle'," DiNozzo murmured.
Hours later McGee slumped down next to DiNozzo. "Did you have plans for tonight?"
"Only appointment either of you has is my house. An hour. If I'm not home, the beer's in the fridge." As he spoke, Gibbs was on his way towards Palmer.
Cooperate. Link. Article. House. On. Opposite.
"No. No. No. No. No!"
McGee looked up. "Tony, I've told you -"
"Get over here, now, McGee! Now!"
McGee sighed and made his way across to the desk opposite him. "What's the - Tony! What have you done?"
"I just clicked on a link in the article and -"
"Managed to list Ducky's house on a 'Haunted Houses' website."
"I didn't mean to. Do something, Tim. Please. Before Gibbs and Ducky get here."
"I don't know if I -"
"Cooperate, McGee. Gibbs'll -"
"Gibbs'll what, DiNozzo?"
"Nothing, boss. Tony just hit the wrong key. It's all sorted now."
Movie. Noble. Approve. Toss. Pleasant. Reliable.
"I don't know what to do." McGee sighed.
"You should do the noble thing and walk away."
"This isn't a movie, Tony; it's real life. I can't just toss away six years and two kids."
"I - Sorry, Tim. I -"
"Yeah, I know."
"It can't be pleasant for you."
"Sorry, boss. I mean, Tim. Hey, I know, WWGD!"
"'What would Gibbs do?'. That's always been our reliable whatchamacallit."
"Gibbs wouldn't approve of me leaving two kids."
"Not up to me to approve or disapprove, Tim. It's your choice. I'll support you whatever. Now gear up."
"On it, boss."
// Either side of words indicate the characters are talking to one another telepathically.
Sometimes 'They' 'Their' & 'Them' are shown with capital letters when technically they shouldn't be. This is because I am using the words as a name which refers to the powers that are in control of the elements. 'Time' is also sometimes given an initial capital because again I am using the word as a name.
Nursery. Motorist. Reflect. Excess. Proportion. Decay
Sapphire was bored. "Let's play a game."
Steel raised an eyebrow.
"Let's reflect on old assignments and pick the worst."
"That sounds fun," said Silver.
Steel rolled his eyes.
"Come on, Steel," Silver coaxed. //I'll make it up to you later.//
"Very well. The nursery."
"The children loved you."
"Silver's right, Steel. They did."
"The excess of noise was out of proportion with their size."
Silver and Sapphire laughed.
Silver's laughter stopped. "The motorist. So much decay. I -" He hurried from the room.
"Go to him. I'll go home."
Steel followed Silver. So much for games being fun.
A sequel to A Game
Chaos. If. Lace. Silence. Stage. Wall.
Silver was in their bedroom staring out of the window.
"It wasn't your fault." Silence met Steel's words. He tried again. "There was nothing you could have done."
"If you'd been there, you'd have found a way. You always find a way."
Steel leant against the wall. "No. I wouldn't. Not this time. There was too much chaos; even I have limitations."
Silver turned around. For a moment he looked at Steel before dropping to one knee and unnecessarily retying his shoe lace. "All right," he said. "I believe you. After all, you don't lie."
Steel held out his hand.
Responsibility. Addicted. Thinker. Dark. Bounce. Looting.
Steel stood in a dark watching the looting and chaos. It was his responsibility to find and destroy Time's agent. Addicted as she was to chaos, Time wasn't a great thinker; she would have slipped up.
Steel searched with his mind and eyes for a clue. He saw a ball bounce in an abnormal way and let his body temperature plummet as he strode towards the ball, catching and crushing it. Its irate scream was the only sound as the chaos ceased.
Satisfied, Steel returned to his world and the being to whom he was more than a little addicted.
Alive. Build. Cool. Demand. Tease. Video.
"Of course I'm alive." Steel's tone was cool.
//He's just a child, Steel.// Sapphire's tone was placatory.
//Why should that matter?// Steel demanded.
//We need to build an element of trust with him.//
//Because if we don't, Time will. You know that. What's the matter with you today?//
//Nothing. I just -//
//He didn't mean to tease you.//
//It's of no importance.// Steel dropped down onto his heels next to the boy. "Tell me again what the machine is called."
"A video player. If you want, I can show you how it works."
"Very well," said Steel. "I'd like that."
Snail. Worth. Trait. Chemistry. Need. Password.
Steel believed he did not need anyone.
He thought love was not worth the pain that went with it.
He scoffed at the idea of chemistry between two beings.
He knew his only positive personality trait was loyalty.
"Snail. The password is snail." Silver rested his hand on Steel's shoulder, leaning over him to type the word.
As Silver brushed against him, Steel was forced to accept that all of his beliefs relating to relationships were wrong. He covered Silver's hand with his own and let the mind link between them tell Silver things he still couldn't say.
Code. Dressing. Enthusiasm. Fascinate. Presidential. Snake.
"You're very presidential, Steel." Silver paused the process of dressing.
"In how authoritarian you are; how you always look smart; how -"
"What do you want, Silver?"
"It's Gold's birthday party today."
Steel sighed. "Which one do you want?"
Silver's enthusiasm for antiques fascinated and horrified Steel; he knew how dangerous they were. However, since Silver had moved into his home he'd learnt to compromise. They had a special, locked case for Silver's antique pocket watches; a case to which only Steel had the code.
"The one with the pretty snake on it. Gold bought me it."
Family. Scan. Restrict. Bridge. Teach. Skin.
"I love you."
The words surprise him; they make his skin tingle. A quick scan shows him the words are sincere; honest; true.
He's uncertain what to do; what to say. Is not the bridge between them too wide? They are quite different beings. The family would be surprised; some might even be shocked.
Would that matter? Have opinions other than his own ever mattered? Could he teach himself to share his home, his life with someone else? Could he restrict his preferences to accommodate another? Did he want to?
Steel makes his decision; smiling he holds out his hand.
Disagree. Economic. Oil. Press. Repetition. Weapon.
"I am correct." Steel was economical with his words.
Given Steel was a formidable weapon, few would dare to disagree with him. Silver was one of the few. "Not this time, Steel."
Steel glared; the steely grey began to turn to ice as he stared at Silver. Silver simply smiled. The ice began to turn back to steel. "Well, why do we need an oil press?" Steel finally asked.
Silver shrugged. "I like it. It's pretty; it's shiny." Steel rolled his eyes. "It's pretty; it's shiny." Silver had learnt that repetition sometimes worked on Steel.
Steel sighed. "Oh, very well."
Pick. Unity. Leadership. Hiccup. Concentrate. Check.
Steel's leadership terms were simple: on assignments, the elements did as he instructed and he ensured everyone's safe return. The unity of the elemental world was such, no one questioned his terms.
"Mercury; check that again!"
"Sapphire; just pick one."
"Jet -" Steel whirled around and fired a bolt of iced-steel into Jet. She screamed as she fell to the floor.
Silence filled the room. Everyone stared at Steel in shocked astonishment. "What?" he demanded.
"You destroyed Jet," Mercury said.
"That wasn't Jet."
"How do you know?"
"She hiccupped. We can't. Now will everyone please do as I instructed."
Thumb. Pan. Serve. Noise. Tolerant. Minister.
"I don't eat." Steel stared at the pan Silver was stirring.
"But you can."
"Yes. If I have to."
"Or want to?" Silver's tone reminded Steel how tolerant Silver had been of Steel's wishes during the weeks they had been together.
Silver smiled. "Good. Well, sit down; I'll serve."
The noise of the pan hitting the floor, as Silver dropped it and cried out, reverberated around the room. Steel ignored both the noise and the mess as he took Silver's hand and began to minister aid to Silver's burnt thumb, rubbing it gently to speed-up the automatic healing.
Confront. Dollar. Marathon. Nerve. Opera. Toss.
The toss was precise; Steel easily caught the coin. "What is it?"
"A silver dollar." Steel raised an eyebrow. "You're going to the New York marathon. You could place a bet." Mercury grinned.
"Why are you and Sapphire going to the opera, whilst Silver and I have to watch people run?"
"Sapphire and I are more cultured than you." Steel glowered. "But mainly because They think the marathon is Time's nerve centre and you're the best person to confront her. Plus, you're rather possessive of Silver."
Steel glared, but kept quiet; what Mercury said was, after all, accurate.
Crash. Live. Tourist. Precede. Miracle. Relief.
"Steel!" Silver cried, as a car crashed into Steel. He was about to race to Steel's side, when he was grabbed and held firmly.
"Wait here. I'll go." Mercury spoke with the same authority as Steel; Silver automatically obeyed him. "Stay with him, Gold."
Silver heard the words 'tourist' and 'can't live here' as he waited.
Suddenly he felt the tingling sensation which always preceded Steel letting his body temperature plummet. Relief washed over him as Mercury grabbed Steel's hand and pulled him to his feet; their hands remained linked.
"It's a miracle!" someone cried, as waves of iced-fog descended.
Doll. High. Civilization. Space. Error. Momentum.
"Give me the doll." Steel took a step and then another, closing the space between him and the child.
"Shan't!" The child stuck her tongue out and held the doll high above her head.
Steel gritted his teeth and took another step towards her. There were times he wondered how civilisation still existed on earth. Times when he wondered if he had made an error of judgement when he'd agreed to protect earth.
//Try saying please.//
Steel glowered at Sapphire. However, he needed to regain momentum. "Please, give me the doll."
She shrugged. "All right." She handed it to him.
Part. Ant. Sugar. Nap. Helmet. On.
"Just put the helmet on, Steel." Sapphire spoke firmly.
Steel glared. "Why?"
"It fits the part you'll be playing." Sapphire smiled.
"I -" Steel broke off as Silver wandered in. "Where have you been?"
"Taking a nap. I bring tea. But there's no sugar."
"None of us takes sugar." Steel snapped.
"Why isn't there any sugar, Silver?" Sapphire asked, her tone placatory.
"There's an ant in the sugar bowl."
"An ant?" Steel's tone was incredulous. "We don't have ants here."
"Come and see for yourself." Silver caught Steel's hand and tugged him out of the room.
"Steel! Come back and put -"
Racism. Descent. Nun. Strict. Dentist. Fisherman.
"Word games," said Silver.
Steel frowned. "What about them?"
"Let's play one."
"I like them."
"Oh, very well." To his bemusement, Steel found it hard to say 'no' to Silver.
"I'll give you six words and you have to pair them in a way that makes sense."
"Your words are: racism; descent; nun; strict; dentist and fisherman'."
Steel thought. "'Nun' and 'strict'. Their religion and rules, etc." Silver nodded. "'Racism' and 'descent'. Being racist is a downward thing."
"Okay, I'll give you that."
"Which leaves 'fisherman' and 'dentist'. Well, even a fisherman has to go the dentist."
Digress. Eagle. Lock. Storage. Flow. Flash.
"Steel, we need more storage in -" Silver fell silent as Steel pushed something under the table. "What was that?"
"Nothing." Steel answered in a flash.
The blatant lie took Silver by surprise and worrying thoughts began to flow through his mind. "I fixed the lock."
Silver frowned. "Steel, what's the matter?"
"Nothing. Why should -"
"We don't have a lock that needs fixing. What's the matter and what are you hiding?"
Steel sighed and pulled out the thing he'd hidden.
"It's a word search book."
"Yes. And I only need to find two more words. 'Digress' and 'Eagle'."
Attract. Tactic. Implication. Consideration. Community. Reserve.
"When we get there, we'll keep Mercury in reserve," Steel said.
"Why?" Mercury demanded.
"Because your height will attract attention; my tactic is to do the opposite."
Mercury stared. It was clear he was giving the implication of Steel's explanation serious consideration. Finally he sighed. "All right. You know best."
"Indeed I do." Steel held out his hands. "Silver, Mercury, take my hands. Sapphire take Silver's. Jet take Sapphire's. Gold take Jet's and Mercury's. We need to ensure we all arrive together.
The others nodded and followed Steel's instructions. It was at times like this, they really were a community.
Bush. Drum. Punch. Introduction. Species. Fit.
Steel sometimes thought that as a species, humans weren't fit for saving.
Take the children in the family he had been sent to save. Upon arrival at their home he found one banging on a drum in a way that made him wince; another was punching and kicking a cushion and a third was leaning out of the window, pulling leaves off a bush and throwing them into the room.
//Do I really have to?//
There was a slight pause before Sapphire answered. //Yes.//
Steel sighed and made his introduction. "I'm Steel; this is Sapphire. We're here to help you."
Family. Scan. Restrict. Bridge. Teach. Skin.
Sapphire hummed as she moisturised her skin before applying her make-up. Tonight she would begin to teach Steel about love.
Most of the family would approve; although They may not. Sapphire would cross that bridge if it arose. A quick scan of her bedroom showed all was well. She'd contact Steel and -
The doorbell ringing interrupted her thoughts.
"Jet?" Sapphire was surprised.
"I had to come, Sapphire. Have you heard?"
"About Silver and Steel?"
"What about them?"
The look on Jet's face answered her question.
Sapphire did not restrict her anger as she laid waste to her sitting-room.
Bar. Communication. Detail. Effort. Place. Share.
When it came to power Steel was second to none.
However, with verbal communication, especially detail, he struggled; words were not his friend. Nonetheless, he was determined to make the effort to tell Silver he wanted him to have a special place in his life.
As there was no bar on such relationships on their world, he simply had to find the words.
"I want you to share my home." He spoke quickly and waited for Silver's answer.
Words were Silver's friend. However, he chose to answer in another way. He smiled, pulled Steel into his arms and kissed him.
Dynamic. Model. Practice. Sculpture. Swell. Variant.
"Why me sir?" Doyle asked.
"Because the Minister's daughter is taking a sculpture class and they need a model," Cowley said.
"But why me?"
"The tutor wants a 'dynamic model'; you're the most dynamic agent I have."
"Didn't think sculptures were meant to be dynamic," Bodie muttered. "Must be a new variant."
"We can do without your input, Bodie."
"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir." Bodie snapped to attention.
"One of these days, Bodie, you will be."
"Yes, sir. Come on, sunshine, you can practice being dynamic. Just don't get too used to all the attention; don't want your head to swell."
Estimate. Linen. Old. Oral. Spray. Weed.
Bodie aimed the spray at the weeds. "The things we do for the Old Man."
Doyle attacked more weeds. "How long will it take us to finish?"
"At the rate we're going, I estimate another fortnight."
"Another fortnight? We - Oh, bugger!"
"I've just sprayed my best trousers."
"Told you not to wear linen trousers for this."
"I wanted to look smart; I've got that French oral exam later."
"They're interested in what you say, not what you look like."
"Mum always told me dressing smartly made a good impression."
Bodie stared at him. "You'll certainly make an impression."
Strap. Sandwich. Test. Object. Cooperate. Drive.
Doyle tightened the strap of his shoulder holster as he watched Bodie cram an entire sandwich into his mouth. He appeared relaxed, but Doyle knew he wasn't.
The Met had asked for CI5's help and Cowley had agreed, albeit reluctantly, to cooperate. Bodie, however, was carrying an injury and wouldn't be by Doyle's side.
"I'll drive you," said Bodie; his tone told Doyle not to object. He knew that being unable to back his partner up, would be a test of Bodie's patience.
"I'll be all right," he said.
"You'd better be. Or someone will wish they'd never been born."
Dump. Knock. Color-blind. Consider. Choice. Plane.
"God, this is a dump." Bodie stared around the room. "Reckon whoever lived here before must've been colour-blind. Who'd put orange and lime green together?"
"It wouldn't be my choice," Doyle said. "But some might consider it to be -"
Doyle grinned. "Anyway, you shouldn't knock it."
"Because it's ours. Yours and mine. Our first home together. You've got to admit, that sounds good."
Bodie smiled. "Yeah, it does. What doesn't sound good is having to catch a plane later today. Why did Cowley agree to us going to America?"
"Because, Bodie love, we're the best."
Regulation. Crop. Sheet. Food. Coma. Belong.
Illya ignored the food the nurse put down next to him.
He ignored the sheet of paper instructing him to obey Regulation 75 and return to Headquarters.
Napoleon was in a coma and there was only one place Illya was going to be. Right where he was.
It had taken months, but Napoleon had finally convinced Illya he did belong in America; in U.N.C.L.E., by Napoleon's side.
Anything could crop up, but until Napoleon opened his eyes and Illya could tell him how idiotic he had been to risk his life to save Illya's, he was not leaving the hospital
Layer. Knock. Default. Pillow. Save. Plane
Illya added yet another layer of clothing. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so cold, and he'd grown up in Russia. He decided he really couldn't put anything else on, not if he wanted to be able to move.
The knock on the door was Napoleon's default one. Nonetheless, Illya grabbed his gun from beneath his pillow before going to the door.
"Good morning, partner mine," Napoleon said. "It's a beautiful day; the sun is shining, the -"
"It is freezing."
Napoleon shrugged. "True. Anyway, come on, we have a plane to catch. Let's go and save the world."
Slide. Summary. Inhabitant. Squeeze. Momentum. Cooperate.
"In summary: We must use the momentum we have to find an inhabitant of our fine city to test our product. We must cooperate with one another and not let our standards slide as we squeeze the competition -"
Illya glanced at the clock. There was another hour to go before he could escape.
"What are they up to?" Napoleon asked.
"I do not know. I did not understand a word that was said."
"But you speak dozens of languages."
"Da. However, I do not speak 'corporate'. Here, I recorded it. You listen; see if you can make sense of it."
Agriculture. Flat. Guard. Immune. Respectable. Salad.
"Why would Mr. Waverly think I could pass as a professor of agriculture and give a lecture on the subject?" Illya demanded.
"Because when you try, you can look very respectable. And," Napoleon added swiftly, as Illya glared at him, "you know everything about everything."
Illya hesitated; even he wasn't immune to flattery. "But I don't even like salad."
Napoleon blinked. "What has salad got to do with agriculture?"
Illya muttered something in Russian.
"You can do it, Illya," Napoleon coaxed. "Just don't let your guard down."
"Unless I'm with you, do I ever?" Illya's tone was flat.
Haircut. Temple. Pony. Job. Fog. Kinship.
"Come and sit down, Mr. Solo."
"Thank you, sir."
"Now, I have a job for you."
"Please persuade Mr. Kuryakin to have a haircut."
"I'm afraid he's resembling a Shetland Pony."
"Why me, sir?"
"You're his partner. You have a kinship with him. You understand him; you know what to say. Others are left in a fog after speaking with him. Not you."
"Good; that's settled. That's all. You may go."
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
As Napoleon entered their office, Illya looked up. "Temple."
"The missing word. Now tell me, what did Mr. Waverly want?"
Apple. Brick. Mill. Projection. Raw. Transaction.
As the crowd milled around him, Illya handed a brick and apple to a man who looked as if he hadn't bathed for several weeks. In return the man handed him a thin folder and walked away. The transaction was complete.
No one appeared to be paying him any attention, so he opened the folder and swiftly read the contents. The raw data told him the projection he had made only the day before concerning Thrush's latest weapon had unfortunately been correct.
He sighed. It looked as if another birthday would be spent risking his life to save the world.
Empirical. Output. Oral. Concrete. Garlic. Kick.
"Forget the oral; there isn't any empirical evidence that garlic affects vampires."
"Because it doesn't. Hello, Steel."
"Angelus." Steel's body temperature plummeted and he pushed Silver behind him.
"Angel. I - Buffy, don't!"
"Get away from my boyfriend." Buffy kicked Steel. She gasped at the poor output and crashed onto the concrete. "What are you?"
Angel pulled Buffy up. "Buffy, this is Steel. Buffy's the Slayer."
"A vampire and a vampire slayer?" Steel cocked an eyebrow.
"An operative and a . . .?"
"Silver's a technician."
Angel raised an eyebrow. "Unusual."
Buffy sighed. "Hello, Silver. Do you use real sentences?"
A sequel to Old Enemies
Dome. Flour. Notorious. Proclaim. Qualified. Similar.
"How do you know Angel?" Silver sifted flour into a mixing bowl.
"I first met him over two centuries ago. He was Angelus then; the most notorious and evil vampire imaginable."
"Why didn't you destroy him?" Silver made a dome with the flour and broke an egg onto it.
Steel shrugged. "He wasn't one of Time's agents. Destroying him wasn't part of my assignment. Besides, he helped me. At least, what he did qualified as help."
"Our end goals were similar. However, he proclaimed he'd kill me should we meet again."
"Could he have?"
Steel shook his head. "No."
A sequel to Old Enemies
Sofa. Preoccupation. Buy. Twilight. Access. Fail.
Twilight fell; Steel rang the doorbell. "Hello, Gallium."
"May I come in?"
"Of course. Sit down. Would you like a drink?"
Steel sat on the sofa. "Thank you."
"So Sapphire's preoccupation with you was fruitless."
"Why are you here?"
"They accessed the future; an apocalypse is coming."
"We've faced them before."
"This time you'll fail. Buffy will die. We can prevent it."
"Within ten years, you'll return home. You can't stay as Buffy's Watcher forever. How would you explain your lack of aging?"
"You're trying to buy me?"
Steel nodded. "Well?"
"You know my answer."
Responsibility. Addicted. Thinker. Dark. Bounce. Looting.
The dark web was a dark place; a place to which she had become addicted. He called what she was involved in robbery, pillaging, ransacking, destroying. She called it looting; it sounded less serious, less severe.
He gave her an ultimatum: take responsibility for her own actions or he would walk away.
She had always prided herself on being a thinker, but now her thoughts were as dark as the place she inhabited. If she left the dark place could their relationship bounce back to how it had once been? Did she want it to?
He walked away.
Agriculture. Flat. Guard. Immune. Respectable. Salad.
As she sat in her flat eating her salad she wondered, not for the first time, what had possessed her to undertake a degree in agriculture; it wasn't as if she was enjoying it.
Part of it, she knew, was down to the fact her father had wanted her to do a 'respectable' degree; medicine or law or something similar. However, for many years she had immune to the wishes of her father.
No one on her course knew her and she had no friends, because she never once dropped her guard. In that respect she was her father's daughter.