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dragonlady7via http://ift.tt/2psnDWD:
I never can manage to do challenges because I can’t remember when they are and my relationship with prompts is shaky at best but I had meant to finish up a little Bodhi and Shara bit I was working on, because they were both pilots before the war, might have moved in some of the same circles, and I thought it would be neat if they met up, but I haven’t finished it and it’s apparently Bodhi week now, so I guess I’m just… still… working on it, and it doesn’t really… fit any of the prompts… and I still haven’t decided if I should keep it platonic or have them bang. I sort of feel like nobody cares but I also sort of feel like I feel that way about everything so that’s no fair as a judgment. I do miss being able to do polls and things though, that was a fun and cool LJ thing that now you can do on almost every other platform but this one.
Anyway I’ll probably miss the deadline and odds are good I won’t ever finish the fucking thing but if I mention it here, maybe some time in the future I’ll remember that it was a thing I was doing.
Three months later, on a new contract, she was waiting for the loadmaster to sign off on a cargo when she saw an Imp pilot in the distinctive dark jumpsuit passing by. She still sometimes flinched at them, a little, but she mostly could control it. She’d won, and she didn’t have to dwell on how narrow a margin it had been, or how the Imps thought they could get away with anything because usually, they could.
Something was familiar about this fellow, though, so she watched him approach. He saw her looking at him, and looked back, and clear recognition crossed his face.
She still couldn’t place him, but he made his way over to her. “Hey,” he said, with a tentative smile. “I’m glad to see you’re doing all right.”
“Yeah,” she said, baffled, “thanks,” and then it hit her: he was the honest pilot. “Oh! You! Hey!”
His smile turned shy and pleased. “I wondered if you’d remember me,” he said.
She grabbed his hand. “Of course I do,” she said. “I never learned your name, though.”
He looked startled, but still pleased. “Rook,” he said. “Bodhi. Bodhi Rook.” His hand was cold, in hers; long, tapering fingers, and after a moment, he curled them around hers.
“I’m Shara,” she said. “Shara Bey.”
I never can manage to do challenges because I can’t remember when they are and my relationship with prompts is shaky at best but I had meant to finish up a little Bodhi and Shara bit I was working on, because they were both pilots before the war, might have moved in some of the same circles, and I thought it would be neat if they met up, but I haven’t finished it and it’s apparently Bodhi week now, so I guess I’m just… still… working on it, and it doesn’t really… fit any of the prompts… and I still haven’t decided if I should keep it platonic or have them bang. I sort of feel like nobody cares but I also sort of feel like I feel that way about everything so that’s no fair as a judgment. I do miss being able to do polls and things though, that was a fun and cool LJ thing that now you can do on almost every other platform but this one.
Anyway I’ll probably miss the deadline and odds are good I won’t ever finish the fucking thing but if I mention it here, maybe some time in the future I’ll remember that it was a thing I was doing.
Three months later, on a new contract, she was waiting for the loadmaster to sign off on a cargo when she saw an Imp pilot in the distinctive dark jumpsuit passing by. She still sometimes flinched at them, a little, but she mostly could control it. She’d won, and she didn’t have to dwell on how narrow a margin it had been, or how the Imps thought they could get away with anything because usually, they could.
Something was familiar about this fellow, though, so she watched him approach. He saw her looking at him, and looked back, and clear recognition crossed his face.
She still couldn’t place him, but he made his way over to her. “Hey,” he said, with a tentative smile. “I’m glad to see you’re doing all right.”
“Yeah,” she said, baffled, “thanks,” and then it hit her: he was the honest pilot. “Oh! You! Hey!”
His smile turned shy and pleased. “I wondered if you’d remember me,” he said.
She grabbed his hand. “Of course I do,” she said. “I never learned your name, though.”
He looked startled, but still pleased. “Rook,” he said. “Bodhi. Bodhi Rook.” His hand was cold, in hers; long, tapering fingers, and after a moment, he curled them around hers.
“I’m Shara,” she said. “Shara Bey.”
