it's a great life, if you don't weaken (matociquala) wrote,
it's a great life, if you don't weaken

  • Mood:

the cold was science fiction, and the chairs were shambling

2460 words today in two sessions. Cahey's lack of vocabulary often thwarts me.

Also, somehow he appears to have wandered into a Neil Gaiman story:

Several dark-red auto-adapting chairs perked up when he entered the room, and the closest scampered toward him hopefully. Cathoair sidestepped it at first, but realized after a few moments that there were too many exits, and he had not the slightest clue which of them he was meant to be using. He glanced around, wondering if there were a servant or guard somewhere to aid him, but the only sound in the great empty chamber was his breathing and the click of the chair's disk-shaped metal feet.

After he had spent a few moments in staring, straining his ears for a sound or any sign of habitation, the chair caught up. Insistently, it nudged his thighs.  

"Oh, all
right," he said, and sat down, drawing his feet up so he could hug his knees, hunching his ears between his shoulders to wait.

Tags: edda of burdens

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