The science fiction rollplay for members of Flight of Fancy.
Trine sat in the pilot's chair and stared moodily at the computer screen while Saffire scowled behind her, waiting. That's what they were doing, all they could do, in fact. Waiting and it was all his fault.
After the embrace ended, Trine's reaction was not at all what Saffire hoped for...or expected.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she blared.
"Didn't you enjoy it?" Saffire asked, trying to pull her close again.
"There is a time and a place for everything, Summoner," Trine said and Saffire stiffened and withdrew. "This was not the time and definately not the place."
"My thoughts exactly," Chrysth said coldly as Trine whirled around to face him. "You two will remain on the ship with Mystic. Zalla and I will handle arranging our lodgings."
"How dare you!" Trine flushed in anger.
"How dare I, indeed." his voice allowed no argument as he returned to the control deck and called for Zalla to disembark.
Faintly, Saffire and Trine could hear Zalla ask, "Just us? What about Blesser Trine?"
"If you mention her name to me again, Zalla, I will abandon you outside without my protection." Zalla squeaked and by the time Trine and Saffire reached the control deck, only Mystic sat there, cleaning her nails with an ugly looking knife.
Coming back to the present, Saffire sniffed in irritation.
"Not one word, Summoner," Trine growled as she shut her eyes.
"Where is Sebille, I wonder..." Mystic mused softly. Trine started and spun the chair around to face Saffire. All the color had drained from his face. Where was Sebille?