Anyone can join, with a 50-word creative fiction vignette in the comments. Your vignette does not have to include the prompt term. Any (G or PG) definition of the word can be used.
"Getting sassy, aren't you?" Sierra's father tapped the switch against the palm of his other hand.
He hadn't even bothered with the process of cutting it from one of the trees that were visible the windows. He'd just made a system call and the switch appeared in his hand, ready to be used.
Sierra wondered if it was a preset for this storyscape's player-usable items, or her father had needed to specify it. One thing was certain: the computers running the storyscape would translate the blows on her avatar into pain impulses sent to her brain. And now that she'd been stripped of all her faceware, there would be no way to block it.
"My," said the merchant, with a slight curve to her smile, as if she were smiling, and an icy look in her eyes, "you have an impudent, over-bold, arrogant little lass here." "You'll want to hear me, sir," said Avice. Marcus gave her a sidelong glance, as if he feared she were an impostor from the way she talked. Avice bit her lip. She could act, he knew she could act, she could only hope he did not mistrust her. "You never know whether the goods will be here when you come back if you leave now." "Such is life," said Marcus, turning away. Avice swallowed. She stepped away, and said, "I don't know this town." "How did you get here?" said Marcus. She let her breath out and led him back to the alley despite the stares they garnered on the way. "I think we need to go back."
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He hadn't even bothered with the process of cutting it from one of the trees that were visible the windows. He'd just made a system call and the switch appeared in his hand, ready to be used.
Sierra wondered if it was a preset for this storyscape's player-usable items, or her father had needed to specify it. One thing was certain: the computers running the storyscape would translate the blows on her avatar into pain impulses sent to her brain. And now that she'd been stripped of all her faceware, there would be no way to block it.
no subject
"You'll want to hear me, sir," said Avice.
Marcus gave her a sidelong glance, as if he feared she were an impostor from the way she talked. Avice bit her lip. She could act, he knew she could act, she could only hope he did not mistrust her.
"You never know whether the goods will be here when you come back if you leave now."
"Such is life," said Marcus, turning away.
Avice swallowed. She stepped away, and said, "I don't know this town."
"How did you get here?" said Marcus.
She let her breath out and led him back to the alley despite the stares they garnered on the way. "I think we need to go back."