Mini, Part 1, Love
Exiteer smiled as the smell of cloves wafted around his nose. His wife, Roma, had just come into the workshop to tell him a Seeme had arrived at their Gather. That particular scent meant that she was excited. Usually the odor was overwhelming, but Exiteer knew what kept her scent subdued; whenever a Seeme arrived, it was almost always with a mission for Exiteer.
With a sigh, the medium height, brown skinned man rubbed a dirty hand on top of his hairless head. One finger lazily traced the tattoo there, marking him as belonging to an elite squad of Exterminators. The arrival of the Seeme did not necessarily mean that he was about to go on a mission, but by his wife's scent, he knew it was a possibility. With a grunt, Exiteer pushed himself off the stool he had been sitting on and headed for the door to see what the fuss was about. Another smile broke out as Exiteer mused about heightening Roma's excitement further, later.
Roma stood waiting for her husband outside.
Mini, Part 2, Apathy (day late, dollar short, blahblah)
Two full squadrons of Exterminators circled the small Gather, watching the blue plumes of smoke reach up to the sky that was lit up by the triple moons, giving everything around the Gather an eerie sapphire glow.
The Seeme Exiteer greeted two days ago brought the news of an infected Gather and the immediate deployment of the squadrons. Ten people out of the thirty that populated this Gather were found to be infected with roach eggs.
The Exterminators stood still, seeming immobile, showing nothing in their faces as the Gather, the roaches and the ten infected humanoids melted out of existence. Later, when the blue plumes die down to a haze, each Exterminator will return to base, give full reports and then return to their own Gathers. None will have nightmares, none will cry; it's just another ordinary day.
Reunited with Roma, Exiteer tells her of the routine melt as if it was a normal thing. Roma on the other hand, will cry later, alone, shedding enough tears for Exiteer and those ten lost souls.
Mini, Part 3, Rage
Rotten eggs. The hut stank of rotten eggs. There were no eggs cooking; eggs were scarce, a luxury. The stench leaked out, surrounding the hut, keeping others away from disturbing Roma as she stewed in a stinky rage.
â€œIf only he would realize what is happening! If he would just stop being so lackadaisical, as if none of it mattered!
Sounds of breaking pottery, curses exhaled in a rapid staccato.
"How is what he does normal? Why should a shrug of shoulders be allowed?!"
The door to the hut flies open, regurgitating pottery shards and dust and the gross odor of rotten eggs hurriedly follows. A broom is wrestled to and fro in Roma's hands, causing a hole to develop at the threshold.
"How can I keep sanity for both of us? Am I too sensitive? No, he is not sensitive enough, not in this area."
Roma stomps her barefoot, right into the hole she has dug with the broom. Pain shoots up, renewing her rage.
"Fool! Idiot! Dolt!"
The door slams shut, enclosing rage.
Edited by ElfinYoda, 19 March 2009 - 05:46 PM.