Giverny, Summer, Imperial 9-36-4988
Giverny is beautiful in the summer. Took Cassie out dancing last night. We invited ourselves to the Jacquard Media Founding Gala. Food was to die for, the musicians were the best I’ve ever heard, and they played an entire Chrionian symphonette over the course of the evening. While everyone else was getting progressively more drunk, we walked out with a Bentarian sculpture. Jacquard gives the best unintentional door prizes.
Corve, Summer, Imperial 5-40-4989
There’s a reason homesteading never succeeded on Corve. Not even paid ‘steaders would stay on that rock. A whole planet to disappear into, but the heat of summer brings them all out for one of the most interesting markets in the known ‘verse. If it’s illegal, could be used for something illegal, or causes you to have illegal thoughts, it’s there. Even so, I’ve got no desire to go back. Some things aren’t worth the company you have to keep.
Trohmin, Summer, Imperial 4-18-4991
I shouldn’t have come here. Following Tal and Vanya is like begging to be caught, but the thrill of the chase makes it seem like it would almost be worth it. Watching them with each other from the room across the courtyard is voyeurism. Imagining myself with them is lunacy. Drawing it so I’ll have a memory of something that never happened?
That was hot.
Noska, Summer? Really?, Imperial 8-15-4991
This is not summer. This may not even be a real season. Vanya keeps telling me that Noska’s Summer Festival is only a few weeks away. I though lying was my specialty. There is no way that this ridiculous chunk of ice even has a summer.
Until proven otherwise, I put forth the theory that everyone from Noska is so obnoxiously attractive because having sex is the only way to stay warm. Tal and Vanya looked very warm when I got out of the shower. I, on the other hand, am freezing to death.
I hate this planet.
Kellen Frey expands on his dislike of Noska (and his fondness for Tal and Vanya) in our latest release, The Slipstream Con, available now from Samhain Publishing.
S. Reesa Herberth grew up in Hawaii, tried Arizona for a few years, and eventually settled in the D.C. area, where they have trees and rain. She's held a variety of crazy writer jobs, including book and video store manager for a defunct chain of music shops, office goddess for an artisan ice cream maker, cheese-cup scrubber at an organic goat dairy, high school secretary, and dye-stained proprietress of a small yarn and fiber business. When not writing, she can usually be found reading, gardening, cooking, or spinning yarns of another sort entirely. She often resents her need for sleep.
You can find out more about the Ylendrian Empire (and Kellen Frey) here:
And more about Michelle and Reesa here: