So, what does that mean? Well, each day, I'm going to tell you about a dragon - a dragon inspired by a name that I generated randomly using a name generator (I haven't looked up the derivation of any of these names, I have just run with how they make me feel, their sound on the tongue).
I'll tell you all about my Dragon of the Day, and share some flash fic about their lives. Any genre, any character, any look - prepare to be surprised and (I hope) entertained by my dragonly inspirations :).
~
is for Nikita
Nikita kills people for a living - on TV anyway. She plays her namesake, an assassin turned secret agent, on the weekly show, Dark Heat. Off screen she’s a world famous actress who has spent her career playing femme fatales of the dragon variety, usually a supporting character, and Nikita Dark is her first starring role. Her jet black scales and long, sensuous body, have made her a target for the tabloids, but she holds her own and takes no nonsense from journalists or paparazzi.
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I'll tell you all about my Dragon of the Day, and share some flash fic about their lives. Any genre, any character, any look - prepare to be surprised and (I hope) entertained by my dragonly inspirations :).
~
~
is for NikitaNikita kills people for a living - on TV anyway. She plays her namesake, an assassin turned secret agent, on the weekly show, Dark Heat. Off screen she’s a world famous actress who has spent her career playing femme fatales of the dragon variety, usually a supporting character, and Nikita Dark is her first starring role. Her jet black scales and long, sensuous body, have made her a target for the tabloids, but she holds her own and takes no nonsense from journalists or paparazzi.
~
In The Past
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“I warned you never to come back, Sergei,” Nikita growled, stalking round the human holding a machine gun and dressed head to toe in black.
The man lifted the gun, but Nikita was faster and she shot a fireball straight at her enemy.
“And cut!” Jeff yelled as the fireball sailed right past Kevin’s ear and into the waiting fire bucket. “Thank you folks, take twenty.”
The stunt double took in a deep breath, relaxed and winked at Nikita.
“Y’know, it’s scary quite how good you are at that,” he quipped as he shrugged off the heavy black coat that approximated him to their villain of the week.
Nikita just chuckled and headed towards her trailer, since it was going to be more than twenty minutes before they were all set up for the next shot, whatever Jeff thought. It had been a twelve hour shoot so far and all Nikita wanted to do was to take forty winks on her nice comfy hoard of film scripts and wait for one of the runners to come get her.
It was heaven going from the draughty set to the balmy warmth of her specially heated trailer, and Nikita would have flopped onto her waiting bed, but the scent of juniper slipped into her nostrils and she had reared up and round to the other end of her trailer before she had really caught up with the fact she senses someone there. She snarled, but froze as she fought a deep-seated instinct to fry the woman she recognised sitting on the settee she normally reserved for invited guests.
“Hello, Niki,” greeted Nikita smoothly and she was given a clean smile.
“Greta,” Nikita replied stiffly, remaining poised.
The elegant woman in the smart suit had not changed since Nikita had last seen her, even her hair was still a dark brown with hints of copper. She wanted to believe that was due to a bottle, but she had never been quite sure of anything about Greta, even her age.
“What are you doing here?”
“I might ask the same of you, child,” Greta condescended with ease. “Making a TV show about secret agent assassins, a little too close for comfort, don’t you think?”
“This is just fantasy!” Nikita snapped back, rippling her body in the annoyance she could not hide. “I left that life behind a long time ago.”
Greta smiled again, regarding Nikita in a way that made her scales rise. Yet she was too off kilter to have anything more to say to shadow from her past.
“We made you, Niki,” Greta spoke quietly, but firmly.
“I walked away.”
“We let you go.”
Ice ran down Nikita’s spine as the gaze on her hardened. She wanted to strike, to send this memory back to where she belonged, but ingrained knowledge told her she would lose. Greta looked her up and down.
“You have done well for yourself, Niki,” the compliment was unexpected, but Nikita instantly kicked herself for not realising it had been coming: that was Greta’s way, always keep your opponent one step behind.
“I have a good life here,” Nikita tried to sound proud, but as she listened to herself, she heard the plea in her words; her heart skipped a beat and, as her contentment slid away, she resisted the pointless urge to run.
“And we have no intention of disrupting that, Niki,” Greta replied, standing up and smiling once more.
“Then what do you want?” Nikita needed to know, but she backed off as the woman stepped around the coffee table.
“The gala you are attending next week,” Greta continued smoothly as she placed an earpiece on the counter as she walked towards the door, “we’ll be in touch.”
Nikita watched her past walk out of the door, her heart sinking until she collapsed where she stood. Tipping her head back, she screamed.
The man lifted the gun, but Nikita was faster and she shot a fireball straight at her enemy.
“And cut!” Jeff yelled as the fireball sailed right past Kevin’s ear and into the waiting fire bucket. “Thank you folks, take twenty.”
The stunt double took in a deep breath, relaxed and winked at Nikita.
“Y’know, it’s scary quite how good you are at that,” he quipped as he shrugged off the heavy black coat that approximated him to their villain of the week.
Nikita just chuckled and headed towards her trailer, since it was going to be more than twenty minutes before they were all set up for the next shot, whatever Jeff thought. It had been a twelve hour shoot so far and all Nikita wanted to do was to take forty winks on her nice comfy hoard of film scripts and wait for one of the runners to come get her.
It was heaven going from the draughty set to the balmy warmth of her specially heated trailer, and Nikita would have flopped onto her waiting bed, but the scent of juniper slipped into her nostrils and she had reared up and round to the other end of her trailer before she had really caught up with the fact she senses someone there. She snarled, but froze as she fought a deep-seated instinct to fry the woman she recognised sitting on the settee she normally reserved for invited guests.
“Hello, Niki,” greeted Nikita smoothly and she was given a clean smile.
“Greta,” Nikita replied stiffly, remaining poised.
The elegant woman in the smart suit had not changed since Nikita had last seen her, even her hair was still a dark brown with hints of copper. She wanted to believe that was due to a bottle, but she had never been quite sure of anything about Greta, even her age.
“What are you doing here?”
“I might ask the same of you, child,” Greta condescended with ease. “Making a TV show about secret agent assassins, a little too close for comfort, don’t you think?”
“This is just fantasy!” Nikita snapped back, rippling her body in the annoyance she could not hide. “I left that life behind a long time ago.”
Greta smiled again, regarding Nikita in a way that made her scales rise. Yet she was too off kilter to have anything more to say to shadow from her past.
“We made you, Niki,” Greta spoke quietly, but firmly.
“I walked away.”
“We let you go.”
Ice ran down Nikita’s spine as the gaze on her hardened. She wanted to strike, to send this memory back to where she belonged, but ingrained knowledge told her she would lose. Greta looked her up and down.
“You have done well for yourself, Niki,” the compliment was unexpected, but Nikita instantly kicked herself for not realising it had been coming: that was Greta’s way, always keep your opponent one step behind.
“I have a good life here,” Nikita tried to sound proud, but as she listened to herself, she heard the plea in her words; her heart skipped a beat and, as her contentment slid away, she resisted the pointless urge to run.
“And we have no intention of disrupting that, Niki,” Greta replied, standing up and smiling once more.
“Then what do you want?” Nikita needed to know, but she backed off as the woman stepped around the coffee table.
“The gala you are attending next week,” Greta continued smoothly as she placed an earpiece on the counter as she walked towards the door, “we’ll be in touch.”
Nikita watched her past walk out of the door, her heart sinking until she collapsed where she stood. Tipping her head back, she screamed.
~
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An actress dragon. That's different. I hope she's good natured and doesn't fry anyone if she loses her temper.
ReplyDeleteDiscarded Darlings - Jean Davis, Speculative Fiction Writer, A to Z: Editing Fiction
Yes, let's hope her diva moments aren't fatal :)
DeleteDo I hear the echo of a certain tv show?
ReplyDeleteGood, one! ;-)
@JazzFeathers
The Old Shelter - 1940s Film Noir
Yes, I couldn't resist ;P
DeleteHi Sophie - oh dear ... sounds like a wee bit of trouble coming - loved how you pulled the story line together ... totally believable - well done ... cheers Hilary
ReplyDeletehttp://positiveletters.blogspot.co.uk/2017/04/n-is-for-notable-rare-breeds-natives.html
An unusual take. My brother had an Alsatian dog called Nikita. She was the softest most spineless dog I ever knew! Definitely not a dragon! N is for Nuggets and News as you Build a Better Blog. #AtoZchallenge.
ReplyDeleteWe had a white Alsatian, he was as soppy as they come as well :)
DeleteWell, clearly Greta isn't someone she was hoping to see. Intrigued about the backstory now.
ReplyDeleteNo she really wasn't.
DeleteWow!! Thank you so much to this post. it is very good book for me http://aazae.com/
ReplyDelete