Creative Writing IE
Nov. 9th, 2005 09:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
laleiaBecause I am Stressed and Freaking Out without reason, I am now consciously (and stupidly) choosing to write this instead of doing homework/collegeapps/anynumberof things.
"I don't know why Carrie chose me to succeed her," Lamya said firmly, barely stumbling over the unfamiliar appellation, "but she had her reasons. And she chose me because she believed me fit for the job. Not you. Not Xiomara. Not Ziorada."
"So?" Yessenia shrugged insolently. "She was growing senile. She was losing her edge. And what do I care about her anyways?"
"As such," Lamya continued, "I have the power and the weight of 500 generations of successful Dark Ladies behind me. The line of being chosen has continued unbroken for centuries, nay, millennia, and you shall not break the chain." All right, so part of that speech was more than a little bit awkward. But spontaneity was like that.
"I'm not doubting your ... weighty history," Yessenia lifted an elegantly-plucked eyebrow (when she did find time to do that?). "I'm doubting your abilities. Simply put, I think you are the weak link in the chain. And weak links always end up being exploited. Didn't you know?"
Lamya barely prevented herself from sputtering. "Excuse me?" she demanded, pretentious speech gone in her indignation.
"I don't think you're suited for the job. I think ... Carrie, as she now calls herself, made a mistake in choosing you. I was to be her successor. Not you. I received training, not you. And if you are fit for the job, you will be able to deal with everything I throw at you. If not ... well, millennia is a bit long for such a tradition to last. Mayhaps traditions aren't meant to last that long. Maybe now is a time to break from tradition."
Lamya found herself at a loss for words.
"But," Yessenia shrugged, "if you are suited for the job, you have nothing to worry about. Right?" With that, she strode out the door. Without even begging leave.
Lamya spent some time staring blankly at the table in front of her. She had never planned on being made Dark Lady, true, but once Carrie (it got less awkward with time) had appointed her, she had certainly not expected opposition. Especially not from the three most influential women in the organization. She wasn't sure she would make a good leader anyways. Should she just ... give up?
"I don't know why Carrie chose me to succeed her," Lamya said firmly, barely stumbling over the unfamiliar appellation, "but she had her reasons. And she chose me because she believed me fit for the job. Not you. Not Xiomara. Not Ziorada."
"So?" Yessenia shrugged insolently. "She was growing senile. She was losing her edge. And what do I care about her anyways?"
"As such," Lamya continued, "I have the power and the weight of 500 generations of successful Dark Ladies behind me. The line of being chosen has continued unbroken for centuries, nay, millennia, and you shall not break the chain." All right, so part of that speech was more than a little bit awkward. But spontaneity was like that.
"I'm not doubting your ... weighty history," Yessenia lifted an elegantly-plucked eyebrow (when she did find time to do that?). "I'm doubting your abilities. Simply put, I think you are the weak link in the chain. And weak links always end up being exploited. Didn't you know?"
Lamya barely prevented herself from sputtering. "Excuse me?" she demanded, pretentious speech gone in her indignation.
"I don't think you're suited for the job. I think ... Carrie, as she now calls herself, made a mistake in choosing you. I was to be her successor. Not you. I received training, not you. And if you are fit for the job, you will be able to deal with everything I throw at you. If not ... well, millennia is a bit long for such a tradition to last. Mayhaps traditions aren't meant to last that long. Maybe now is a time to break from tradition."
Lamya found herself at a loss for words.
"But," Yessenia shrugged, "if you are suited for the job, you have nothing to worry about. Right?" With that, she strode out the door. Without even begging leave.
Lamya spent some time staring blankly at the table in front of her. She had never planned on being made Dark Lady, true, but once Carrie (it got less awkward with time) had appointed her, she had certainly not expected opposition. Especially not from the three most influential women in the organization. She wasn't sure she would make a good leader anyways. Should she just ... give up?
