Dark City: Arbitration_right on the precipice of something new_Run, Mr. Bates_A Pirate's Life Fo
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Dark City: Arbitration
Jael Vega considered her next few moments. Her black pencil skirt and single-breasted blazer felt repressive compared to her usual fatigues and tank top. It was the Ministry’s formal uniform, and considering the occasion, she thought it fitting. If this was her last time wearing the unflattering suit, she wanted to appear neat. Her bare legs sprouted fresh new chill bumps despite the room’s warmth. An odd sense of unfamiliarity rested heavily within her as she slipped on a pair of low matte black leather heels. Paladins were not exactly known for refinement. Most would think she never knew wha...
right on the precipice of something new
(note: contains sensitive language, sexual content)I suppose I should begin with that cologne. Verdant and fresh, it very much is my first association with work, with professionalism. My dad used to splash a sheen onto his stubbly neck, early in the morning. Calvin Klein, it was. That smell, of grapefruit in a clementine sun, of skin scrubbed new in the shower, of someone ready for the world. That smell made my heart thump as a child. Beating and booming in my chest, it meant he was off to work. Off to practice dentistry. Away from the soft sunlight of home, where my mum would bake crusty brea...
Run, Mr. Bates
The collar of my shirt was drenched with sweat, and my heart was racing faster than a jackrabbit’s. Detective Thorne walked ahead of me and led me into the interrogation room. Her blonde hair was tied up in a bun and she wore a black skirt suit. “Right in here Mr. Bates. Have a seat,” she said.This was a mistake. Why did I come here? Without a second beat, I reached back for the door. Thorne grabbed my shoulder firmly, but not so firm that I couldn’t push past her.“I’m sorry, detective, I shouldn’t have come here,” I said.“Mr. Bates, I insist that you stay. Your input could be vital to invest...
A Pirate's Life For Me
“Sail ho! Sail ho!” shouted Johns from the crow’s nest. “What do ye see, Johns?” the shwww.onedoor.ccip’s second in command shouted up toward the top of the mast. It was in the middle of the second dog watch, sixth bell struck a bit ago, but not quite seventh bell. It was not quite 1930 hours yet; dusk at this time of season and at this latitude; not wholly dark, but well into dusk. If Johns spotted another ship in this light, that meant the ship was closer than any of them would like. This was not good; especially since it was common knowledge that the old seadog’s sight wasn’t quite what it once was. “Do...