The Art of Mirriam Neal

a bit of an offering

Last week the flu reared its ugly head, and stuck me in bed, miserable. It was probably the third-sickest I’ve ever been, and the only thing good that came of it was a full-series binge on Full Metal Alchemist. I’m recovering and now feel improved to the point of having only a really terrible cold, but my mental faculties aren’t up to the task of thinking up a subject for a new blog post. That said, I don’t want you brilliant souls to feel abandoned, so I’m doing this the lazy way and posting some (never-before-seen even to my beta pack) snippets. Huzzah. You will get something more interesting, I promise; but for now you can head over to www.thefangirlinitiative.com and snoop around today’s Agents of SHIELD episode response, courtesy of yours truly.

He scanned the room for someone who looked like a responsible adult and came to the conclusion that responsible adults were severely lacking before remembering he looked like Skata.

Skata was adult, at least for a human, and he was halfway responsible.

Skinner grinned.

– No Dark Disguise

The fan sweeps forward, lazy and just close enough to brush across his bare shoulders. The lines of his body change from masterful sculpture to something far more rigid and less appealing. Without turning his head, he says, “Touch me again and I will see you swim inside the contents of this cup.”

– the unnamed book

He dislikes touching his lessers, making the orbs the most effective means of passing along a visual message without inflaming his annoyance. His annoyance usually results in the end of another life.

– the unnamed book.

For a moment, nothing appears on the screen. Just when Feril is preparing to turn it off – it has taken too long as it is – someone walks into view.

Feril bows; partially out of habit, partially out of the automatic urge to do so in the presence of anyone from House Ryu. “Lord Aya.”

– the unnamed book

“Well, that was secretive. Who was it? Do you have a lover hidden away?”

Aya smiles and leaves the small screen on the wall. He crosses the room back to the bed, where a girl of thirteen sits, eyeing a glass game board. “Just a bit of intrigue. Now where were we?”

She lifts a thin glass stick, six inches long, and places it in another hole. “Your move, brother.”

– the unnamed book

He turned, startled by a flash of light from the Asian girl with the camera. “Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” he snapped.

She lifted the camera, as if to point out the obvious. “I’m the photographer?” The duh was clear in her voice. “I’m taking pictures.”

He shook his head once and walked past her toward the crowd of people ogling at the door where Angel had been stolen away.

“Rude,” he heard the photographer girl mutter.

He nodded as he moved away from her. “Absolutely.”

– No Dark Disguise

“Good morning, sunshine.”

Angel blinked, but the blinking did nothing to ease the painful throbbing in his veins. He lifted his head and looked at the man in front of him. He was young; probably thirty at the oldest. He also looked as if he was enjoying this far more than Angel was.

“Sunshine, huh? Funny. You know, it’s not nice to make fun of people.” Angel smiled past the pain, narrowing his eyes at his captor. He flexed his muscles against the chains tying him to the solid wooden chair, but he was still weakened from the dart.

The young man shrugged, unperturbed. “It’s not like sunlight affects you. I mean, it should, but it doesn’t.”

“I’m gifted.”

“I really wouldn’t call it that.”

 – No Dark Disguise

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