Recent content by Sigurn Faldur

Her cheekbone throbbed from the punch. Her split lip pumped blood. But Sigurn just looked up. So did the assailant laying atop her. They shared that moment. The blaster was a distraction. It hadn’t hit her. It hadn’t hit him. They both gazed into the distance and observed the shooter. It wasn’t...

The words had caught her a little off guard to the point she had to blink twice before realizing the man beside Sigurn was speaking to her. She had admittedly been thinking out loud, a musing voice, but the man’s comment was prompt and on point. “Yeah. I’ll drink to that.” She toasted alone to...

A broken sign blinking in the night. A broken viewscreen black as evening. On Level 1313, a woman had found her way into the cantina, gaze trained on a screen above the bar that was actually working, watching boxing with a drink. She had ordered mead. Bartender told her sorry, didn’t have any...

M-Mama… A girl is frightened, dazed. Must be brave. Trees flank the bank, a screen. “Beside you. It’s okay.” Furya Faldur. A girl’s mother. Sigurn Faldur. A warrior. Parent. Guardian. Gave heart. Nothing else mattered. “Child, I’m your heart!” A mother had promised her. “So close, no matter how...

A wind drifted outside the cantina, in the city streets of Mos Eisley, and a woman drifted within it. Across the floor, out the door, a breath of fresh air, if trapped with the sweat and stench of a city. A back exit, she had taken it throughout her life, disappearing into wind, she never really...

Bells. Bells in her head. Bells. Chimes of death. Hers, a lone Deucalian. A girl, and a barbarian. There in the dark cold. A frozen forest so old. The girl must be bold. Within Mother’s hold. At night, in the white, in the grey. Mother, Furya Faldur, is a blade. Daughter, Sigurn, not so brave...

River. Rain. Mother. Mountain of name. Gone, lost, like morning dew across windswept plain. Furya Faldur. Mother’s name sits on her lips beside a glass rim. Sees her beneath eyelids, eyes are open, Sigurn Faldur’s. Behind her eyes, her spirit whispers, ever near, by dry tears, no matter the...

Her eyes, closed to the night, to the stars that are so far. Above her, there was that sky, beyond the treetop crowns. Skeletal things, twisted branches, dead limbs, white arms. Covered in snow, black shadow, like those who surround. Men, women, Human, alien. None of them are Deucalian. A girl...

There she is, here she comes again, there she sits, that one lonely Deucalian. Troubles on her brow, with worries she can’t hide, silent visage is this woman’s. Homegrown stone countenance, a face like mother’s fist, eyes into the distance. It’s not a forest, it’s not a mountain, there’s no...

It happened in the night. A girl, a woman, in flight. Terrified, describes fright. Running faster, can’t fight. A woman, a girl, tall, small. A mother, a daughter, fall. Over the rock, they stumble. Down the hill, they tumble. “Up! Up! Get up!” The mother commands. The daughter listens, gets...

The Space Between From Oshima Station. From colony of Taskeed. A woman spread her wings. And then she flew to Tatooine. A woman. A Deucalian. Born under thunder. Born bleeding in lightning. And hers is the storm. The storm of the raider. Of the reaver, the reaper. O great gale...my ravager...

“And so, with fate as my moon, I cradle this quarry!” “Like…like a freighter orrrrr kind of like a…a lorry?” "NUNCLE MARRIED A TARGARYEN'S MOTHER." “WHAT…IS YOUR FAVORITE…...…COLOUR?” “BLACK. NO. RED— WAAAAAAAAAAHH” The music in the bar was about as bad. Lyrics were chicken bone this and that...

“COMMANDER PLEASE STOP IT” “BUT ROGER IS MY NEW FISH” “THAT’S NO FISH! IT’S CRICKET” “I WRITE THEE CITATION TICKET” "You already did the job." I…kinda meant…what’s the next job? But the movie is where she was lost. Something…quarry…uhhhh…got it… Movie is a distraction; being honest. Finally...

“Is this it? Is this the quarry we are in?” “Uhhh ketchup…mustard…sandwich…” “Yup. Commander’s slipped in madness.” “We need to get out of this hole—QUICK!” “I…f-feel like my chicken bone…might itch.” Queue a Deucalian trying to figure out what, for crying out loud, this movie is all about...

Credits slip. Count ‘em quick. Credit, chit, chip… A woman could grin. But instead takes a sip. Licks some liquid from lips. “I have a ride, my own ship.” Puts money away by her hip. “Now I have credits to go with.” A woman does kind of enjoy this. Enslaved Deucalian—bad business. Got away, not...