She's ready for player two.

Based on the post of MsCherylTerra, in 3 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at My First Time.

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Player one is me, Ramona Roth. I’m nineteen, blue hair, pierce eyebrow, former president of the student council, virgin.

War is hell, they say, but I say they're wrong.

Hell is insanity, and insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.

Hell is false hopes and flagrant disappointment.

Hell is knowing that the squabbling of Ilyra, the princess from the far-off planet of Nianus, and Jostok, the snarky-but-pleasantly-ripped humanoid alien soldier from Quighnan, would attract the attention of Izzon's monstrous space beast.

It's knowing that the beast would destroy the vent your plucky band of misfits was crawling through.

It's knowing that you'd all tumble into the cavernous belly of the spaceship with only the last-second triggering of a force-field from your omni-cuff to prevent you from turning into gizzard soup on the space-grey floor.

I watched Jostok realize that the force field hadn't prevented the princess from being crushed beneath the weight of the metal that tumbled from above. I watched him separate her from the tangled pile of bodies and bionic limbs, cradling her barely conscious form against one beefy, armor-clad bicep.

I watched her brilliant violet eyes flutter open, and saw the little half-smile on her face as he called her by her name, and heard the weakness in her voice as she reminded him that it was Princess Ilyra to him. I heard Jostok chuckle wetly and assure her she was going to make it.

After all, she was the princess. This was not how princesses died.

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