vignettes

[marycatelli]

This week's prompt is:
drink

Anyone can join, with a 50-word creative fiction vignette in the comments. Your vignette does not have to include the prompt term.

Comments

[marycatelli]

Ava drank. She eyed the window for a minute, and went to eat more. A deep rumble spread from afar. No lightning flash could be seen, but she ate more quickly.
So did the others. Light shrank by the moment. Isabella gave them cold, measauring glances. Ava wiped her face.

[marycatelli]

The downside of using streams to guide her path is that she had to remember that it was unwise to drink from them. She could only wish that it would turn her into a bear, a wolf, or a deer. And the ground was muddy enough to make footing uncertain.

[marycatelli]

Getting ahead of him might be wise, but if he slept, that would give them time, and he only needed a moment with Liam's drink.
And Kevin had better do better than merely hold his tongue. If he had nothing else, why, it would be wiser to split the potion.

[starshipcat.livejournal.com]

Right now Leonid Gruzinsky really wanted a good stiff drink. But equally he knew that he needed a clear head to push his way through the pile of documentation Star City had sent up to Defense Ministry HQ.

Wine could wait, he told himself. Somewhere around his office he had a bottle of peach nectar.

Most of his fellow Soviet citizens wouldn't even get it. But it still amused him to remember the guys at Johnson Space Center ribbing him with the obvious joke. It had stung his pride at first, until he realized that to be accepted by these men, he had to be able to laugh about it, even take pride in it to the point he'd snack on peaches while he was there.

[marycatelli]

Good drinks are good

[marycatelli]

They gathered around the water with avid eyes. They did not dare spill any, they did not dare fight over it, however much they wished for it. Taking the little tin cups in hand, each one drank.
Marcus, with long familiarity, sipped so that not even a singl drop fell.

[marycatelli]

"The first thing," said Rosine briskly, "is food and drink. Nothing else matters so much. Not even the healing magic. Including considerations that we do not know how far we will travel, given the magic in the place, and that we will need to return as well as set out."

[marycatelli]

With all the water drunk, and all the bread eaten, they huddled together among rags foraged from the dead. No sign of Otto, no sign of Jill, no sign that other slaves would be added for the burden. Marcus sighed. After three days without them, it was hard to remember that would mean more enslaved children.
Niklaas poked him. "They're coming."
Marcus froze. Slowly he looked up. A lean young necromancer, with a blue fire about him. Marcus swallowed in memory, and looked about for the mastiffs, all but invisible in the dark except for their glowing golden eyes.
Another figure walked in their midst, skeletonally thin, hollow-faced, head bowed. He could not be certain that it was Jill, but who else could it be? Otto would not dream of thwarting the necromancers enough to merit this escort.
"Listen you fools," said the necromancer. "This once I forbear for Blaize's sake. But if you go north because it is unguarded, you will find a labyrinth of paths. You will find no escape. But you will put me to much trouble to track you down. Enough that I will not consider Blaize a second time."
Jill stumbled forward, and looked up.