Cynthia Ailshie
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cynthiaailshie.bsky.social
Cynthia Ailshie
@cynthiaailshie.bsky.social
43 followers 100 following 28 posts
Writer of SFF, aspires to live in a library and speak twenty languages (so far it’s only two)

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cynthiaailshie.bsky.social
Not my current WIP as of last night (hooray for completing a manuscript!) but I like this particular usage of the word of the day.

#WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writesky
“This is just a prelude. We’ll probably have cloudbursts off and on through the night, till the real storm arrives in the morning.” Laira was humming quite cheerfully, a melody Zava faintly recognized as a traditional Tripolian sea shanty. Jerrid gaped at her in emerging dismay. While they dripped and drizzled in the entry, Rekabin bustled toward them with a stack of polysorbant towels. “Everyone safely inside? Good, good,” he chirped. “Dry off before you take another step, please! Don’t want to leave puddles everywhere.” His broad smile remained fixed as he turned to Jain and began conferring with the tech in a lower voice. Zava watched his eyes for a sign of his real emotions. Worry, no question. A touch of panic. Panic was contagious. Zava had never quite managed to build up an immunity to it. She sighed and took up one of the towels.
November 13, 2025 at 4:02 PM
cynthiaailshie.bsky.social
No tasty food for Zava while she's being unjustly detained. #WIPSnips #amwriting #writersky #writingcommunity
Ancient deities be thanked, Zava was not required to sleep in the questioning chamber. After Elani left, the guard came over to escort her first to a washroom, rapture! and then to a neighboring chamber. It was narrow and dimly-lit but furnished with a cot and a sink, which was all she needed at the moment. She washed her face and hands and even contrived to cleanse most of the dried sweat from the back of her neck. Then she dropped to the cot with a grateful moan. Her legs were still recovering from restricted bloodflow, and her back was taking great pains to inform her of how poorly she had treated it. It’s not my fault! Go complain to Elani and his intractable misinterpretations of the truth. Her back remained unappeased. The guard reentered some time later with a generic instant-meal pack and a bottle of water. He handed them over with an apologetic frown as she forced herself to a sitting position. “They, uh, don’t provide a table or anything.” “Don’t worry about it,” she assured him, already tearing open the seal to start the heating process. Thinly-seasoned starches and vegetables. She had never smelled anything so delicious. “Thank you.” He wore a faint look of panic as he glanced toward the window set in the door. “I’m only doing my job.” As if her thanks was the worst condemnation a guard could receive. Zava regarded him with all the dignity she could muster in a state of utter dishevelment and captivity. “Never regret kindness.”
November 11, 2025 at 6:46 PM
cynthiaailshie.bsky.social
WIP: My third interplanetary librarians book, "A Cataclysmic Framing." Zava is conducting interviews with an archaeological team and attempting not to step on anyone's toes.

#WIPSnips #amwriting #Writesky #WritingCommunity #SF
Better establish some common ground before Ajuna put her firmly in the category of outsider antagonist. “I was excited to come here myself. Old Tripoli has always fascinated me.” Ajuna’s mouth quirked in dry acknowledgement. “We must be quite the curiosity, out there in the wider cosmos.” Oof. Now she’d really stepped in it. Delicately Zava acknowledged, “I couldn’t pretend to have the same connection as a Tripolian, of course. The Institute strives to respect the preeminence of locals –” A blunt laugh. “I’m just needling you. Don’t worry, I’m not raising accusations of appropriation or misrepresentation.” She looked up for a pointed moment. “I’ve got better things to do with my time.”
November 10, 2025 at 3:24 PM