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o0O¥O0o A/N o0O¥O0o
Seems that we have an active plagiarist on Fan Fic Net robbing off fic from Deviantart net. I've a crop of fics on Devi. They're all done as story-per-day; some for Dalekweek & some not but all done with a superfast pen & no sense of sanity. They're getting posted over here as a safeguard; so any of my Lev Fics on Devi pre twenty-fifteen are likely gonna be repeats of Fan Fic Net. Just a hint in case you decide to visit me over there.
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"DERYN!"
The frantic cry set Deryn racing to the kitchen of the crofters' cottage that she and Alex were holidaying in; what danger had found them out in these Scottish hills? She burst into the room to see a rumpled and concerned Alek framed in the doorway of the hearth press, gazing down in consternation at a small object clutched to his chest.
"Liebchen wasn't' this meant to be a time for ourselves, apart from everything? Why are we harbouring Dr Barlow's latest perverted fabrication, is it really so deadly and clandestine that you have to even keep it a secret from me! I can't imagine what something as ugly as this could be possibly be used for,it disturbs me even more than the flechetten. Is it a bomb, a projectile or something even more devious and dangerous?" Alek quizzed as he thrust the knobbly, dusty, brown and earthy object under Deryn's nose.
"Its a potato ye dafty; its just natural, that's how it comes out of the ground!" Deryn chuckled.
"A ... potato ? But I've eaten them at banquets, aboard Leviathan, many places; I do know they can be cooked in many ways, like fish you never know how they'll appear next, but I'll swear I've never seen anything as odd as this on my plate!" Alek expressed his puzzlement to Deryn's great amusement:
"Ye're too barking noble is what you are! 'On the table', my eye, ye've never been down in the kitchens have you? I remember when I was a wee lassie, we'd go out in the kitchen garden and dig up handsfuls for dinner; mam always put the runty ones by for us to play with."
"Play with" Alek echoed, entirely at sea now and unresisting as Deryn pushed passed him to seize an armful of potatoes then begin to bustle around the kitchen with knives and ... paints; she spoke as she busied herself:
"Aye, you ... cut ... them ... open ... and ... carve ... out ... a ... shape ... on ... them ... like this, then dip them in paint and print out patterns; its grand fun see."
Alek looked down, disparagingly, at the small mound of potatoes that lay on the table now ... sporting relief moulds of stars and hearts and other shapes; his voice was laden with scepticism:
"Fun at two years old, perhaps, but don't you think this is too childish now?"
"Oh, aye, ye think so?" Deryn challenged him with a sly grin
"Doesn't it depend just where ye print the patterns!"
