Pod and Pilot Fiction Contest is back!
in EVE Communication Center
Callista looks over the assembled dignitaries and wonders once again why she didn't wear the white dress instead of the blue. Oh, well, no turning back now.
When The Honorable Telegram Sam calls her name and the weight of everyone's stare turns her way, her blush goes from rosy to deep crimson. She rises from her table to the sound of polite applause.
As she makes her way to the raised dias, the trid-reps jostle for position. Well, not as much as for Rhavas, mind you.
Standing at the podium, the lights shining down on the stage blaze and she blinks back nervous tears. As she adjusts the mic, the timer starts counting down, 30 seconds.
Well at millions of isk per minute commercial time, they sure as hell weren't going to waste it on yet another boring victory speech. So, as practiced in front of the holovid in her mack, she leaned forward just enough for her dress to accentuate her camera shy "assets", gave a big great smile and began, "I would like to thank the judges for the time and effort it must have taken them to go through the hundreds of pages of text. I would also like to thank the incredibly generous sponsors who encourage all of us writers to slip out of our pods and fire up our word processors. But I would like to especially thank Sam for having pulled this even together once again. Sam, this is for you..." and looking right into camera 1, she winks and blows a kiss.
"See you all next year!"
And then, relieved that it's done, she walks down the stairs and off into the wing, with fifteen seconds left on the clock.