Sometimes, people tell me random things and then stories happen. Like that time a friend told me to write a Doctor Who stapler monster. Stuff like that
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Re: Evidently Deviltown, Part 2.2bendingsignpostJuly 17 2011, 07:17:31 UTC
“Were you loomed in Italy?” she asks when she returns. “That was Italian, right?”
“Qui.”
She laughs.
He smiles, his teeth so very flat, like a child’s. She’d thought he looks older than her, up until now. With that smile, she’s not so sure. They’re force-grown, anyway, so it’s not like appearance is any indication. It’s not even like it matters.
He holds the cup this time and she folds her hands around his, giving him the support he clearly needs. His eyes shut completely. Gorgeous eyelashes on this one. They stand out against his skin almost as much as the freckles. The only sounds in the flat are their breathing, his small swallows. It’s nice. Soothing.
Which is of course the signal for the front door to open, her mum loud as anything.
He startles, his eyes snapping open and darting to the door of this room. His room, she supposes. The water spills down his chin, dampening the blanket pretty bad that time. She pulls the plastic cup away, puts it down, and he grabs at her hands.
“Rose,” he whispers.
“It’s okay,” she says.
“I’m sorry,” he tells her. It’s staggering, the urgency in those hushed words. The dignity. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s only water,” she insists.
He blinks at her, his brown eyes so uncertain.
“Rose!” Jackie yells from the hall. “What the hell happened to the microwave!”
“I’ll clean it up in a minute!” she yells back, twisting around to shout at the door.
“Rose!” Impatient.
“Mum!” Disrespectful.
He drops her hands.
She looks at him, confused.
He stares at her. Like she’s hit him, or done something terrible. He’s like an aggrieved cat but that look in that face, it makes her guilty, unspeakably so. It’s only because he looks like a person. It’s not fair at all.
She picks up the cup again and he turns his face away, to his right. His eyes remain fixed on hers, wide and round. She puts the cup down when she realizes, feeling a fresh wave of pity. The Flesh are stupid, but that’s not their fault.
“I’m not like you,” she confirms. “I didn’t mean to make you think I was.”
He says nothing.
“Eat your potato, okay?” She nudges the shoebox lid toward him to make sure he understands.
He flinches, or maybe shivers. It’s either fear or the water in the blanket. She knows what it is and she also knows what she’d rather believe. She tries not to be annoyed.
“Okay?” she asks again. She doesn’t move or drop her gaze until he nods. “Good. You can change your clothes tomorrow, how’s that sound?” It’s way overdue.
No answer.
“Good dawning,” she tells him, then closes the door behind her. She locks it up, all the way, just to be sure Jackie doesn’t raise yet another fuss.
“Microwave, Rose,” Jackie prompts from in front of the telly.
“Yeah, I know,” she answers, feeling oddly defeated. She’d liked it when he’d talked.
Still, it’s not like she hasn’t any experience in this sort of thing. Smokey had been a wary stray. She can’t imagine this’ll be much different.
Stopping for the night/morning here. We'll see if it's still buzzing in my head when I regain consciousness.
“Qui.”
She laughs.
He smiles, his teeth so very flat, like a child’s. She’d thought he looks older than her, up until now. With that smile, she’s not so sure. They’re force-grown, anyway, so it’s not like appearance is any indication. It’s not even like it matters.
He holds the cup this time and she folds her hands around his, giving him the support he clearly needs. His eyes shut completely. Gorgeous eyelashes on this one. They stand out against his skin almost as much as the freckles. The only sounds in the flat are their breathing, his small swallows. It’s nice. Soothing.
Which is of course the signal for the front door to open, her mum loud as anything.
He startles, his eyes snapping open and darting to the door of this room. His room, she supposes. The water spills down his chin, dampening the blanket pretty bad that time. She pulls the plastic cup away, puts it down, and he grabs at her hands.
“Rose,” he whispers.
“It’s okay,” she says.
“I’m sorry,” he tells her. It’s staggering, the urgency in those hushed words. The dignity. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s only water,” she insists.
He blinks at her, his brown eyes so uncertain.
“Rose!” Jackie yells from the hall. “What the hell happened to the microwave!”
“I’ll clean it up in a minute!” she yells back, twisting around to shout at the door.
“Rose!” Impatient.
“Mum!” Disrespectful.
He drops her hands.
She looks at him, confused.
He stares at her. Like she’s hit him, or done something terrible. He’s like an aggrieved cat but that look in that face, it makes her guilty, unspeakably so. It’s only because he looks like a person. It’s not fair at all.
She picks up the cup again and he turns his face away, to his right. His eyes remain fixed on hers, wide and round. She puts the cup down when she realizes, feeling a fresh wave of pity. The Flesh are stupid, but that’s not their fault.
“I’m not like you,” she confirms. “I didn’t mean to make you think I was.”
He says nothing.
“Eat your potato, okay?” She nudges the shoebox lid toward him to make sure he understands.
He flinches, or maybe shivers. It’s either fear or the water in the blanket. She knows what it is and she also knows what she’d rather believe. She tries not to be annoyed.
“Okay?” she asks again. She doesn’t move or drop her gaze until he nods. “Good. You can change your clothes tomorrow, how’s that sound?” It’s way overdue.
No answer.
“Good dawning,” she tells him, then closes the door behind her. She locks it up, all the way, just to be sure Jackie doesn’t raise yet another fuss.
“Microwave, Rose,” Jackie prompts from in front of the telly.
“Yeah, I know,” she answers, feeling oddly defeated. She’d liked it when he’d talked.
Still, it’s not like she hasn’t any experience in this sort of thing. Smokey had been a wary stray. She can’t imagine this’ll be much different.
Stopping for the night/morning here. We'll see if it's still buzzing in my head when I regain consciousness.
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AND THAT I AM GOING TO COMMENT
JUST AS SOON AS I CALM DOWN
AND RETURN FROM DINNER AT MY UNCLE'S
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