scrivespinster (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
scrivespinster) wrote2019-09-07 01:30 am
scrivespinster) wrote2019-09-07 01:30 am
Entry tags:
Ficlet: Retrograde
Title: Retrograde
Fandom: Sunless Skies
Characters and pairings: The Sky-Captain
Wordcount: 150
Rating: PG
POV: Second-person
Summary: A Sky-Captain unmoored.
Note: Written for the prompt Negative time.
You open your eyes. You were dreaming.
In your dream, you remember, you were flying through a sky filled with mist and embers, smog, the crackling ozone traces of a storm. The journal at your bedside speaks of things that never happened, in frantic handwriting you can scarcely read:
June 13, 1906. Bound again for London. Glad to leave the Avid Horizon’s cold behind. Worse, the Flukes. We fly without light until the danger has passed.
You set out for the Avid Horizon tomorrow. Her Enduring Majesty means to found an empire among the stars.
Somewhere in your mind, a vast machine whirls, spinning out false light – too dim, too thick, not fast enough to rethread the unraveling loom.
The King of Hours is dead, they say. Long live
Long live the
You open your eyes. You were dreaming.
Two days from now, you set out for the Avid Horizon.
Fandom: Sunless Skies
Characters and pairings: The Sky-Captain
Wordcount: 150
Rating: PG
POV: Second-person
Summary: A Sky-Captain unmoored.
Note: Written for the prompt Negative time.
You open your eyes. You were dreaming.
In your dream, you remember, you were flying through a sky filled with mist and embers, smog, the crackling ozone traces of a storm. The journal at your bedside speaks of things that never happened, in frantic handwriting you can scarcely read:
June 13, 1906. Bound again for London. Glad to leave the Avid Horizon’s cold behind. Worse, the Flukes. We fly without light until the danger has passed.
You set out for the Avid Horizon tomorrow. Her Enduring Majesty means to found an empire among the stars.
Somewhere in your mind, a vast machine whirls, spinning out false light – too dim, too thick, not fast enough to rethread the unraveling loom.
The King of Hours is dead, they say. Long live
Long live the
You open your eyes. You were dreaming.
Two days from now, you set out for the Avid Horizon.