daye   8

Toby Drift
Stories like hers were a dime a dozen in the PPDC: orphan of the incursions, swept up and tested and capable of doing the work, so hey, may as well put the kid no one’s going to mourn for into the program, right? Maybe she’ll manage a few encounters before she fries her brain or falls in battle. Maybe she’ll be worth it.

No one expected October “Toby” Daye to be one of the best Jaeger pilots the fledgling program had ever seen. No one expected her to fight the way she did, to anticipate the kaiju the way she did–almost like she could understand them better than they understood themselves–to dance with her Jaeger the way she did. Her partner-lover-caretaker, Clifford Marks, said, after she was lost on her fifteenth drop, “It was like she was looking for a war she couldn’t win, and she wasn’t going to be content until she found it.”

The body of her co-pilot, Connor, was found. Hers was not.

She left behind a two-year-old daughter, and a lot of tall tales. So many, in fact, that when her escape pod surfaced above the Breach fourteen years later, fourteen years after it had been supposedly sealed, most people shrugged and went, “Yeah, if anyone was going to make it through, it’d be Toby.” Money changed hands. Drinks were lifted in her honor.

No one commented on the way her eyes seemed to glow when the lights were turned down too low, or the way she flinched when people tried to touch her, or the fact that she hadn’t aged a day.

Saying it might have made it real.

The PPDC was shut down, decommissioned, and the danger was over, and she couldn’t stop, because for her, the war wasn’t over; the war was still going, still burning in her veins, still screaming in her ears when she tried to sleep at night. When the Breach opened again a year later, it was a relief. It was like coming home. She stepped into the Shatterdome like she was waking up for the first time, and she fought, and she trained, and when the man she liked least in the entire program, combat instructor Rand Stratford, asked if she thought there was anyone she might be Drift-compatible with, she looked him in the eyes and said, “Try me.”

They moved in together a week after their first Drift. When she heard about the Emissary, she closed her eyes, and Rand put his head on her shoulder, and neither of them said what both of them knew.

Saying it might have made it real.

And reality was coming.
daye 
july 2018 by lablalock
Seanan's Tumblr | tanoraqui: firecoloredwater: seananmcguire: ...
the real mystery of the October Daye books is, did Oberon, Maeve and Titania all bang separate cats? Or do all Cait Sidhe have one, impressively ambitious feline ancestor?
seanan  daye 
april 2018 by lablalock
Seanan's Tumblr | Dianda reads Into The Drowning Deep
“Honey, why are you giggling?”

There was no reply. No: that wasn’t quite right. There was another giggle, open and amused and as unnerving as the sound of a knife being drawn in a supposedly empty bedchamber.

Patrick Lorden had never really questioned the wisdom of marrying a woman who thought single combat was the solution to all life’s problems. He wasn’t going to start now. But oh, it was sometimes a struggle.

“Di, what’s so funny?”

More giggles.

“Dianda, can you please throw me a bone before my skin crawls completely off my body in fear?”

Silence followed, before her head poked around the edge of the bathchamber door. Why a mermaid needed a private bath was a question people liked to ask, as if her having fins and scales meant she had no right to privacy. Those same people generally dropped the subject when she asked them if they, being land-dwellers, had yet to take up her husband’s charming custom of “bathing.”

“This book is hilarious,” she said.

Patrick, who had seen the cover when Dean presented the book to his mother, put his hand over his face and groaned.
author  daye 
december 2017 by lablalock

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