Lyr Marken

A 3-post collection

Challenge #01243-C148: Morning People

Imagine your otp -- Anon Guest

Music was playing. Something ancient from the Vault, shared on something called a 'mix tape' by Ambassador Shayde into Lyr's personal file collection. Whatever it was, it was too jumpy to be morning music.

Jule attempted to burrow under the covers without moving much. Why his best-beloved had to be so darn frenetic on the mornings of her holidays was a mystery. This was their mutual time off. They should be doing as much nothing as they could get away with.

Lyr started jumping on the bed, shaking him as she sang along. Vaulting over him to jump about in her pyjamas and otherwise cavort like she was a teenager.

Twenty years of togetherness and three kids hadn't changed a darned thing.

Jule Marken emerged from the pillows long enough to glare at the chronometer by the bedside. Five in the morning. The sun had only just begun to paint the sky in colours no artist would voluntarily choose.

Same thing. Every year.

He would smile at her for it later, when he could appreciate it. For now, he mumbled The Line. "Can you bottle some of that and give it to me intravenously?"

Which stopped her dancing with raucous laughter.

Good. He had about four more minutes before she'd try to cook.

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Challenge #00201: A Kiss of Home

“ How long has it been since I’ve stood in the rain? ”

Lyr could only predict that the individual who called herself Shayde would ‘bring trouble’ if they let her out of her isolated environment. However, since the genetechs had concocted and released a super immunoflu that once again vaccinated known populations against extinct diseases like measles, they had increasingly less reasons to keep her there.

Humans were considered insane by the larger populations of the galactic

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Challenge #00198: Everyday Miracles

Ok hope I am doing this right!

The universe and all the wonders it has to offer

[AN: Yes, you are]

There’s always one. The long-term tourist or peripatetic individual who never lost their sense of wonder. You could always pick them out of the crowd.

They looked around.

Everyone else stared down or straight ahead, lost in the haze of self-delusion that every spaceport was the same and nothing ever changed.

This one had everything in a backpack and

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