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infinitejestI have been absent far too long! But that's what happens when assignments come due and there is a local con to get to: I've been spending every spare moment writing or working, for the most part, with a quick visit to Faerie Escape Atlanta last weekend. It's another 10-hour shift at work today but, before I go, have a drabble I wrote for TrueBlood100's 19th challenge, "Instinct."
Title: Through Death, and What Pam Found There
Rating: PG-13.
Characters/Pairings: Pam/Eric.
Word Count: 120.
Spoilers: None, really, as this takes place about a century ago.
Disclaimer: Neither True Blood nor the Southern Vampire Mysteries are my sandboxes; I just like playing in them. All fun, no profit.
Summary: Pam seeks a Wonderland in the garden, and finds herself tripping through the rabbit hole into death and beyond.
Social training advised her to shun the devilish tall man and his impeccable tailoring: his exquisitely cut green silk waistcoat, a madly dapper hat, and gorgeous frock coat.
Instinct had Pam slipping out of her bedroom late one night, and opening her thighs to him in the rose garden. As fangs flashed in the London moonlight, he whispered to her of centuries unaging. Desire blossomed in her heart redder than painted roses. Redder than her life's blood spilling over skin pale as a rabbit's pelt.
Social training required she faint politely when the world turned upside down and faded to a hanging bloody grin. "Drink me," whispered the grin and instinct rose again. Pam tumbled down the rabbit hole, laughing.
Title: Through Death, and What Pam Found There
Rating: PG-13.
Characters/Pairings: Pam/Eric.
Word Count: 120.
Spoilers: None, really, as this takes place about a century ago.
Disclaimer: Neither True Blood nor the Southern Vampire Mysteries are my sandboxes; I just like playing in them. All fun, no profit.
Summary: Pam seeks a Wonderland in the garden, and finds herself tripping through the rabbit hole into death and beyond.
Social training advised her to shun the devilish tall man and his impeccable tailoring: his exquisitely cut green silk waistcoat, a madly dapper hat, and gorgeous frock coat.
Instinct had Pam slipping out of her bedroom late one night, and opening her thighs to him in the rose garden. As fangs flashed in the London moonlight, he whispered to her of centuries unaging. Desire blossomed in her heart redder than painted roses. Redder than her life's blood spilling over skin pale as a rabbit's pelt.
Social training required she faint politely when the world turned upside down and faded to a hanging bloody grin. "Drink me," whispered the grin and instinct rose again. Pam tumbled down the rabbit hole, laughing.