Each Sunday, Weekend Writing Warriors offers a selection of eight-sentence excerpts from writers in multiple genres and forms. Check out the full roster here.
“My head’s going to explode,” Ferenc said.
“Oh no it’s not,” Genubi said, “so, Ferenc the Gossip, let’s look at the old Captain’s name-bearer here, and I’ll explain it.”
Shamali reached over and cabled Yasmin’s tablet to a socket in the table; the opposite wall lit up with the ranks of flat images of the cadets in their year. The cadet-portrait filled the frame, with the name beneath: Martisset Zubenelgenubi Zubeneshamali Tethys Saiph yr Astok. They had pale hair cropped to the skull on one side, long and floppy on the other, all but obscuring the eye. In the portrait, they stood very straight, with one long-fingered pale hand resting on sword-knot, dressed in tunic and surcoat like the festival costumes they’d just seen at the Midsummer parade and the officiators at the Shipwrights’ Chapel: grey stitched in silver and blue.
“Martisset is their name-line,” Genubi said, “that’s your given name, and you’re expected to do something similar to your namesake. And that’s a weird name, by the way: child of the god of war.”