Quiet Time
Brin settled into the cozy bunk in her small berthing room off the main passageway of the science wing. She lay there for a moment, the lights still on, feeling the artificial gravity pull her into the plush material. Reaching up to the recessed shelf beside her, she pulled out her reading tablet, then opened and closed her had twice toward the center of the room, dimming the lights. Curling up, she activated the tablet, bathing her face in it's soft glow. Having finished a book the night before, Brin was looking forward to immersing herself in a new story. She ran her finger down the side of the tablet, pulling the recommended reading list to the top. Four of the books in the first row sported a small star beside them, indicating that they were recent additions. She touched each book, opening details about the author, genre, and plot. She paused on the third book. It was authored by Grans Faelik, a popular writer and particular favorite of Brin's who had not released any new material in several years. Quivering with excitement, she selected the novel, expending her weekly reading credit, and it opened to the first chapter.
Some find refuge in the foreign lands across the great boreal sea. For Kraephen, he felt as if refuge was the furthest thing from his grasp.
Brin felt excitement well in her chest at the familiar style of writing. She read on.
The port was near empty, the few souls that stood in the rain glared out from under battered wide brim caps at Kraephen, unwelcoming. As he descended the brow, he could see a young boy take off running into the city, no doubt to alert some interested party to his arrival. He gritted his teeth. After fleeing his motherland and the false accusations of the high king, he only wished to find some quiet. It seemed that his plans were already falling apart at the seams.
Brin held the tablet inches from her face, already completely absorbed in the narrative. What false accusations? Who was the boy running to tell? She lifted her finger to the screen to pull up more text. The tablet's eye tracking only worked in well lit rooms, but Brin preferred to read in near darkness. She felt more immersed in her reading when she couldn't see the berthing area around her. As her finger touched the screen, the lights in the room returned to full brightness. Brin growled in frustration at the cheap gesture controls used on the ship, and thrust her hand toward the center of the room, snapping her hand open and shut twice to once again dim the lights. Feeling annoyed, she returned her gaze to the tablet's screen.
Kraephen reached the bottom of the brow and ambled over to a small shelter to wait for a carriage-for-hire and sat, arms crossed. Before long, he saw a figure approach from the archway to the docks. As they drew near, Kraephen realized who it was that the boy had run to fetch. The figure's gait gave it all away, the way she placed one foot in front of the other, the way she held the pommel of her sword, the way her hips swayed sensuously as she seemed to glide toward him…
Brin's eyebrow cocked. Sensuously? From Grans Faelik? Had she read that right? She put her finger on the screen to pull the text back up so she could reread the paragraph in it's entirety. The lights in the room returned to full brightness. Pressing her lips into a thin line, she glared out of her bunk at the optical sensor that was the primary trigger for the light controls. It seemed to stare coolly back at her. She dimmed the lights again and angrily rolled onto her other side, placing the sensor at her back, shielding her tablet and fingers from it's view.
“Kraephen, oh Kraephen. I have waited so patiently for you to be in my reach again.” He only stared at her coldly. The blame for his current predicament could be placed entirely on her shoulders. It was this woman, Callinthia, who had driven the high king into a jealous rage. It was her who had turned the entire bloodworker's guild against him. How could she approach him so casually? Her blithe appearance in the land that was to be his sanctuary brought his blood to a boil. Kraephen turned his face to her, his jaw set. “What do you want Calli? Have you not tormented me enough already? Was it not enough for you to drive me out of the country I loved?” Callinthia met this with a look of genuine shock. “How do you mean Kraephen? I have been here, waiting for you, as we agreed. Near an entire year I have waited. I had nearly stopped sending serving boys to the docks to watch for your arrival.” Kraephen paused at this. His brow furrowing, he tapped his inner sight and saw that she bore no deceit in her words. Feeling his stomach twist, he realized that this could not be the person who had caused him so much sorrow. So much of the events of the last few months were beginning to come together. “There must have been one of the morbid shadows at the high king's court. It could be that it had taken my visage and tricked you into waiting for me here. Then it caused all manner of chaos while wearing your form. I am now a man in disgrace, exiled to this land.” Callinthia raised her hand to cover her mouth, a look of horror spreading across her delicate features. “Kraephen, this is terrible news. Please, let us return to my manor. We can discuss the events that transpired in the capitol once you have had a chance to eat and recover from your voyage.” At that, Kraephen stood, and allowed Callinthia to lead him into the city.
Shapeshifters? This could be very interesting. Brin enjoyed a high fantasy setting, and enjoyed a plot with a healthy amount of intrigue even more. She tapped the screen to advance to the next chapter.
Callinthia pressed her lips against Kraephen's neck as he unbuttoned her blouse…
Brin flung her hand upward in disbelief. Had Grans lost his mind? What was this.. this… smut?
The lights in the room abruptly returned to full brightness.
With a howl of rage, Brin spun, and sent her reading tablet spinning at the optical sensor. It made contact with a sharp crack, the lens housing and the tablet falling to the floor. Cursing, she extended her hand, snapped it closed, then dropped her wrist downward in the gesture to extinguish the room lights. Nothing happened. She repeated the gesture with no effect. Suppressing the urge to scream, she sprang from her bunk and stalked over to the light controls, her bare feet slapping against the cold deck. Brin angrily smacked the manual light toggle, plunging the berth into darkness, and strode back to her bunk. Flopping down, she tore her blanket over herself and curled up, fuming.