whisper the tongue like an old friend (dogen, pg)
Title: whisper the tongue like an old friend
Author: cloudytea
Characters/Parings: Dogen and Lennon, mention of Richard.
Rating: PG
Summary: The green fruit is an alien thing in his grasp. For that_evening. 291 words.
It’s when Dogen first comes to the island that he realizes how different he is from the rest. He’s given an American translator (I do not need someone to speak for me like a coward, he reprimands an unaffected Alpert) and the ground beneath his feet is foreign and rough and everything his homeland is not.
(I’m so sorry, he tells the dream version of his incoherent son, glass still littering his hair and broken strings of words flowing from his bleeding lips)
His new companion struggles to make conversation, his textbook Japanese still broken and unused to Dogen’s distinct dialect. One day, Lennon makes a comment about the weather, the sky above them bleak and bleary. Dogen simply nods, barely acknowledging the narrow-faced man whose weary eyes squinted behind wired spectacles.
Lennon’s used to the silence by now and tosses him a mango from a nearby basket. The green fruit is an alien thing in Dogen’s grasp and he cleans it with his shirt, the societal ideal of cleanliness still etched into his habits. Finally, unable to find a single thing wrong with the fruit, he takes a bite and an unwelcoming squelch rips from his teeth. He immediately spits out the chewed-up piece -- The sourness clawed at his throat like the claws of a demon, begging for escape.
Lennon is laughing now -- Something unexpected. Dogen peers over at the man, whose hands are now secured upon his torn jean knees to keep himself from falling over into the dirt. Dogen tosses the mango over his shoulder, narrowly missing the translator.
I hate mangoes, he haughtily replies in English. He trudges off, leaving Lennon frozen in his tracks.
Hey, hey! Wait a minute! Lennon calls after him, dumbfounded. You speak English?
Author: cloudytea
Characters/Parings: Dogen and Lennon, mention of Richard.
Rating: PG
Summary: The green fruit is an alien thing in his grasp. For that_evening. 291 words.
It’s when Dogen first comes to the island that he realizes how different he is from the rest. He’s given an American translator (I do not need someone to speak for me like a coward, he reprimands an unaffected Alpert) and the ground beneath his feet is foreign and rough and everything his homeland is not.
(I’m so sorry, he tells the dream version of his incoherent son, glass still littering his hair and broken strings of words flowing from his bleeding lips)
His new companion struggles to make conversation, his textbook Japanese still broken and unused to Dogen’s distinct dialect. One day, Lennon makes a comment about the weather, the sky above them bleak and bleary. Dogen simply nods, barely acknowledging the narrow-faced man whose weary eyes squinted behind wired spectacles.
Lennon’s used to the silence by now and tosses him a mango from a nearby basket. The green fruit is an alien thing in Dogen’s grasp and he cleans it with his shirt, the societal ideal of cleanliness still etched into his habits. Finally, unable to find a single thing wrong with the fruit, he takes a bite and an unwelcoming squelch rips from his teeth. He immediately spits out the chewed-up piece -- The sourness clawed at his throat like the claws of a demon, begging for escape.
Lennon is laughing now -- Something unexpected. Dogen peers over at the man, whose hands are now secured upon his torn jean knees to keep himself from falling over into the dirt. Dogen tosses the mango over his shoulder, narrowly missing the translator.
I hate mangoes, he haughtily replies in English. He trudges off, leaving Lennon frozen in his tracks.
Hey, hey! Wait a minute! Lennon calls after him, dumbfounded. You speak English?