Guts and Sass: The Ocean - 2
Feb. 1st, 2011 10:53 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
metraylorThe Ocean - 2
I'm going to die. I'm going to burn to death.
~~~
Erue came up to him before he climbed down into the bilge. Quietly, he said into Alan's ear, "She doesn't have a mark." Alan stared down into the dark, absorbing that.
"Has she said anything?"
"Not past trying to eat my thumb."
"Is it still attached?"
"More'r less."
"What was found on her?" Erue pointed his bristled chin toward a small pile against the planking running up the belly of the ship.
The pile contained little beyond her odd clothing, which smelled strongly. The cloth had been arranged so that it lay as it would have before it was cut. He took in only what stood out to him. The fabric of the tunic felt strange to his fingertips, not woven. In the shaft of sunlight from the open hatch the short breeches were startlingly blue. Laid on top was a rectangle of white, crumpled in half with a torn flap jutting upward. It was rigid but delicate, and he turned it cautiously in his hands. Alan froze as a fine edge sliced through the skin of his knuckle. The cut stung fiercely, not bleeding, and Alan was forced to wonder if the material could have been poisoned.
Read more--->
I'm going to die. I'm going to burn to death.
~~~
Erue came up to him before he climbed down into the bilge. Quietly, he said into Alan's ear, "She doesn't have a mark." Alan stared down into the dark, absorbing that.
"Has she said anything?"
"Not past trying to eat my thumb."
"Is it still attached?"
"More'r less."
"What was found on her?" Erue pointed his bristled chin toward a small pile against the planking running up the belly of the ship.
The pile contained little beyond her odd clothing, which smelled strongly. The cloth had been arranged so that it lay as it would have before it was cut. He took in only what stood out to him. The fabric of the tunic felt strange to his fingertips, not woven. In the shaft of sunlight from the open hatch the short breeches were startlingly blue. Laid on top was a rectangle of white, crumpled in half with a torn flap jutting upward. It was rigid but delicate, and he turned it cautiously in his hands. Alan froze as a fine edge sliced through the skin of his knuckle. The cut stung fiercely, not bleeding, and Alan was forced to wonder if the material could have been poisoned.
Read more--->
