Fic:Musings on the Passé
Title: Musings on the Passé
Progress: 26/100
Word Count: 500
Prompt: #64 Diary
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters no profit is being made from the use of them.
Musings on the Passé
The comforter she found herself sitting cross-legged on had a crochet top that her fingers were currently weaving their way through as Angela’s fingers worked rapid fire across a laptop’s keyboard. The steady clicking was a soothing white noise to her muddle thoughts as her free hand rose to stroke her now perfectly straight nose and gently probe at the soft skin beneath her eyes.
The lack of discoloration and edema had stunned her that morning when the attack had happened less than twelve hours before. She had nearly disregarded Isaacs’ orders and attended One’s training but the thought of extra time with Angela and Charles had been too tempting to resist. Something she was sure Isaacs was well aware of and more than willing to use to his advantage.
The clicking paused and her gaze rose, watched as Angela’s blue eyes scanned the screen before dropping to the keys that once again resumed their steady chatter. “Is the written diary obsolete?”
The noise tampered off and Angela looked up, her brows already rising. “What?”
She motioned toward the computer, “Is the written diary obsolete?” Her lips quirked, “Do all the cool kids have blogs now?”
“Cool kids?” Angela parroted the words back, her accent twisting them into an insult.
“Don’t mock.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“There’s that tone again.”
Angela’s smile spread wider, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Her own brow arched and she rushed the two words, “yeah sure,” into one as her gaze shifted from the back of the laptop with the sticker of a wide-eyed pixie covering the Umbrella Corporation’s insignia to stare out at the window overlooking the Ashford’s backyard.
The weather girl had mentioned the beginnings of a heat wave in her last segment and she noticed that its effects were starting to become noticeable as the sun pierced the perpetual overcast and brought the woods, turning the yard into a peninsula, out of the shadows into depressing detail. The lack of leaves made them look barren, lifeless and yet even with thoughts of the soon to be stifling heat she couldn’t chase the chill settling over her flesh. Bringing the hairs along her neck up and she sighed, turned back to Angela and offered her a brilliant, if false smile.
“I say we sneak past your father and gorge ourselves on popcorn and the Hershey bars I saw in the vegetable drawer in the fridge.”
Her coconspirator watched her a moment, easily seeing past her attempts at normal, but instead of commenting Angela offered. “We have marshmallows and graham crackers in the pantry.”
She uncrossed her legs and slipped them over the side of the bed, “I’ll start the grill.”
“I’ll acquire the rest.”
“Meet me out back in ten?”
Angela shook her head even as she rose, “You do realize that my father will more than likely catch us.”
“You do realize that your father will more than likely join us.”
“He does love his chocolate.”
”Who doesn’t?”
The End.
Progress: 26/100
Word Count: 500
Prompt: #64 Diary
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters no profit is being made from the use of them.
Musings on the Passé
The comforter she found herself sitting cross-legged on had a crochet top that her fingers were currently weaving their way through as Angela’s fingers worked rapid fire across a laptop’s keyboard. The steady clicking was a soothing white noise to her muddle thoughts as her free hand rose to stroke her now perfectly straight nose and gently probe at the soft skin beneath her eyes.
The lack of discoloration and edema had stunned her that morning when the attack had happened less than twelve hours before. She had nearly disregarded Isaacs’ orders and attended One’s training but the thought of extra time with Angela and Charles had been too tempting to resist. Something she was sure Isaacs was well aware of and more than willing to use to his advantage.
The clicking paused and her gaze rose, watched as Angela’s blue eyes scanned the screen before dropping to the keys that once again resumed their steady chatter. “Is the written diary obsolete?”
The noise tampered off and Angela looked up, her brows already rising. “What?”
She motioned toward the computer, “Is the written diary obsolete?” Her lips quirked, “Do all the cool kids have blogs now?”
“Cool kids?” Angela parroted the words back, her accent twisting them into an insult.
“Don’t mock.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“There’s that tone again.”
Angela’s smile spread wider, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Her own brow arched and she rushed the two words, “yeah sure,” into one as her gaze shifted from the back of the laptop with the sticker of a wide-eyed pixie covering the Umbrella Corporation’s insignia to stare out at the window overlooking the Ashford’s backyard.
The weather girl had mentioned the beginnings of a heat wave in her last segment and she noticed that its effects were starting to become noticeable as the sun pierced the perpetual overcast and brought the woods, turning the yard into a peninsula, out of the shadows into depressing detail. The lack of leaves made them look barren, lifeless and yet even with thoughts of the soon to be stifling heat she couldn’t chase the chill settling over her flesh. Bringing the hairs along her neck up and she sighed, turned back to Angela and offered her a brilliant, if false smile.
“I say we sneak past your father and gorge ourselves on popcorn and the Hershey bars I saw in the vegetable drawer in the fridge.”
Her coconspirator watched her a moment, easily seeing past her attempts at normal, but instead of commenting Angela offered. “We have marshmallows and graham crackers in the pantry.”
She uncrossed her legs and slipped them over the side of the bed, “I’ll start the grill.”
“I’ll acquire the rest.”
“Meet me out back in ten?”
Angela shook her head even as she rose, “You do realize that my father will more than likely catch us.”
“You do realize that your father will more than likely join us.”
“He does love his chocolate.”
”Who doesn’t?”
The End.