XXVII: Back at the damn ball

Bulbs flashed everywhere like tasteless arc welders fucking epileptic fireflies. “Countess Devaris!” A tabloid wraith blocked her path. “Does Lady Elaine’s absence signal fractures in Phoenix Rising’s founding triad?”

Chapter 2

We hugged and air kissed, then went through to the dining room. We had a table in full view of everybody and got a lot of looks when we were seated. Monica gave me a potted history of the shoots that she had been in since I last saw her, and I gave her a potted history of my own recent past. We were into the main course when she said something that changed the situation.

“Do you know any places I can live in London? Someone called Yvonne from an agency there has bought out my contract with the agency here.”

Eriana finds that the Visund is overloaded and their departure from Bibek is cautious. Their passage is not helped when they are threatened by a Pakmal galley. In Faralan they visit Count Darkwin and receive an offer of assistance.

The Voyage of the Visund

A tale of Anmar by Penny Lane

98 - Return to Faralan

Part 30

Chris hesitated. He wasn’t sure what to say; ‘pussy’ was so crass, while ‘vagina’ was something guys his age didn’t feel comfortable saying for some reason. That, and he was still recovering from the absolutely mortifying orgasm that Julia had just given him.

“I’m waiting, Chrissy,” Julia said. Her tone was stern and direct, yet with the hint of an amused lilt, “Say it, girl.”

End of ‘The Girl with a Curl
On the day I left to go home for the holiday, I packed my bag and looked at the one I had done for my wall. It was next to the catalogue picture I had bought, and was a picture of Gloria, Judith, me, Monica, and Sally, as I remembered us on the first day that I had told anyone my secret. We were all in our jogging outfits, in the park, with me in the middle. I had straight hair and no make-up, but I still looked like a tomboy. That day was the first day on the journey that had brought me here. They do say that every journey begins with the first step, and that was the day that I had taken a leap of faith, on the way to becoming a ‘Girl with a Curl’.

Preamble - I have now completely re-written all of the works I had worked with Sudowrite on. I no longer use it as a writing tool, only a story organizing tool. With my left hand healed I can now type again properly so I'll be able to write a lot easier. I am also returning to the online world but have permablocked where I got hated on for my prior writing of this. I will never author there ever again, and won't even lurk for their content. Their user base proved to be very toxic and the admins didn't care when authors were being harassed by readers. The reviewers were annoying but it was the DM's there that really got me.

Medical:
Beverly looks at her wife’s x-rays to see how bad the damage was. She couldn’t believe the damage to the body armor when she saw it. Whoever squeezed her wife’s leg, had some strength to them.

Wendy watches her wife as she looks at the x-ray of her leg. The nurse had given her a shot for the pain.

“Well, how bad is it?”

“I’m going to need to rebuild your femur, sweetie. Whoever you fought, broke your upper leg and the pieces are digging into the muscles and tendons.” Beverly puts the X-ray down and looks at her wife.

CHAPTER 67
Life took a turn for the bloody busy after that evening. We were both working full time, of course, and there were our combination recreation and social sessions at music nights and at the climbing wall, but there was so much else to deal with. Australia has a very relaxed approach to marriage, in its own way, barring a few slightly irksome formalities. We could indeed marry just about anywhere, but that choice had been sneakily covered by Murdo. We could always say no, of course, but given what he was offering to us a refusal would have been more than rude.

Chapter 7

When I went back to the shop, I found out that they had originally been living in Queensferry, right next to the Forth Bridge, so wanted that to be in the picture, along with the family of four. Fair enough. They had a postcard of the bridge that I could use to copy, as well as a family snap.

The shuttle glided swiftly back to my parents' house, but my mind drifted between two contrasting worlds. The palace, with its opulent halls and graceful arches, felt like home—a sanctuary where I truly belonged. Yet as I stepped onto the rich, loamy soil of Earth and inhaled the crisp, familiar air, a different kind of warmth enveloped me, one that spoke of childhood memories and unspoken dreams.