Post by Kynikos on Oct 5, 2016 23:25:35 GMT -4
[Bit of a precursor: The word limit was rough. I kept hitting against it and that required a bit of a different take. I scrapped my original plan and went for something easier to explain in a short period. I also went in an extremely verbose fashion to cut down on some words. This eventually worked its way into a sort of defining feature for the characters which I'm kind of pleased with. I think I could've expanded the dialogue a bit more with good effect if given an extra fifty words, but then again we always want what we can't have. 
]
(Premise: Deliberately ignoring a fortunate path.)
She has sat in the same ombré chair for hours and you would opine that you know her well enough that's she thinking. She's thinking and you're calculating. Her hands play with a black and white spotted notebook, flipping the pages filled with atramentous tones. She's opening her mouth and stumbling over her own loquaciousness.
"Why?" You note with displeasure it's shaky. She's still puzzled about your intransigent stance.
"Fate could be described as a morass. If you want to let it cosset you, you could. If I may wax philosophical, what kind of fate is the one dictated?"
"Your alacrity combined with the fatalistic streak..." She trails off. Her nails hover closer to her mouth, but she stops. "I think I'm more then enough for the both of us."
"Perhaps your words would be more sagacious to someone less obstreperous."
"You're repeating yourself. Is it really that much to ask just to stay with me?"
"It is."
"Just for a few more hours."
"Fatalistic self destruction? You deserve better."
She stops talking and does something very recherché for her. There is muffled sobbing.
"Alea iacta est." You leave to hide your own tears and head out into the abyss.
](Premise: Deliberately ignoring a fortunate path.)
She has sat in the same ombré chair for hours and you would opine that you know her well enough that's she thinking. She's thinking and you're calculating. Her hands play with a black and white spotted notebook, flipping the pages filled with atramentous tones. She's opening her mouth and stumbling over her own loquaciousness.
"Why?" You note with displeasure it's shaky. She's still puzzled about your intransigent stance.
"Fate could be described as a morass. If you want to let it cosset you, you could. If I may wax philosophical, what kind of fate is the one dictated?"
"Your alacrity combined with the fatalistic streak..." She trails off. Her nails hover closer to her mouth, but she stops. "I think I'm more then enough for the both of us."
"Perhaps your words would be more sagacious to someone less obstreperous."
"You're repeating yourself. Is it really that much to ask just to stay with me?"
"It is."
"Just for a few more hours."
"Fatalistic self destruction? You deserve better."
She stops talking and does something very recherché for her. There is muffled sobbing.
"Alea iacta est." You leave to hide your own tears and head out into the abyss.
