Helen Ward
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The Instrument of Emanations
Nysa ran her fingers over the pitted silver of the locket around her neck. It had become a nervous habit. If she were playing a round of poker with the vandal kids in the mess hall it would be her tell. She’d kick herself after losing the few credits she had managed to hold on to and swear to never play another round with them again….but this wasn’t a poker game. She wasn’t in the mess hall, tucked safely away underground with the rest of the resistance and the stakes of this game were much higher.
By Helen Ward5 years ago in Fiction
The Instrument of Emanations
Nysa ran her fingers over the pitted silver of the locket around her neck. It had become a nervous habit. If she were playing a round of poker with the vandal kids in the mess hall it would be her tell. She’d kick herself after losing the few credits she had managed to hold on to and swear to never play another round with them again….but this wasn’t a poker game. She wasn’t in the mess hall, tucked safely away underground with the rest of the resistance and the stakes of this game were much higher.
By Helen Ward5 years ago in Fiction
