day 15
It's a Tuesday, I feel ill, stupid and exhausted, but there you go. JSF inspired me once again. (If anyone's read Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close, look at the bird pictures, then you'll know what I mean.)
[This story is dedicated to our wonderful community mods, as a peace offering for having complained about when the prompts get posted at first, and a thank-you for doing this in the first place. I don’t know what you like to read, hell I don’t know if you see this or have time to read it, but anyway. It’s yours.]
Semantics
Behind the window, a net of birds was flung into the air, catching scraps of the early day with their shrill, naked cries that burst on the housewalls. Veins of frost distorted their bodies, turned them into black ink splashes, as though somebody had written on the sky, in another language.
It happened again and again, words reshaped and fell apart, a fist of letters and a line of thought blowing in the wind, and Remus read with his hands on his ears to keep the noise at bay. Usually, it was easy for him to tune out the world, because the world tended to tune him out at times; today, though, the vast space stretching beyond the window distracted him, that sea of birds and hard unripe wind, the foreign croaks from winter throats. His eyes swept along the lines in his book, plunged out the window again, past the frostprints and the glass.
When Lily touched his neck lightly with cold hands, he sighed and wished somebody would turn him into language and write him into the sky, touch it with summerdark fingertips and bring it down upon this strange land where one kiss filled a dozen dreams.
“How are you feeling?” Lily asked and sat down on the table next to his book. “You should sit up straight, Remus, you’re hurting your back.” Her voice was a soft, quivering, warm little creature, a lost bird-comma in the endless pages of cold air. He cradled it tenderly, held it close to his soul; a piece of today’s text, today’s memory letter.
“Twenty-seven hours until moonrise”, he said, I counted, “it’s okay, I’m alright”, still, there wasn’t much else to say. Quietly, Lily’s woollen Gryffindor socks slid over to the fridge, bottles chinged when she opened it. She’d pulled a blue cardigan over her pyjamas and light sizzled in her copper hair. “The others still asleep?” Remus asked. One of the cats jumped onto the windowsill as another paragraph of birds grew in the air outside, ink dripping on snow clouds, running along the rooftops.
Lily poured a little milk into bowls and placed them in a corner, then set the bottle softly down on the table, hesitated. Remus watched while a thin white ring formed around the bottom: almost a full moon. “Sirius is awake, I think”, Lily finally said, sounding careful. The other cat that had been sleeping in Remus’s lap now stretched and slipped down to the floor, curling around Lily’s legs before it joined the first at the milk bowls.
“Maybe you should-”, Lily began, twining breath and speech awkwardly, as if she’d walked into a spider’s web, and touched his elbow with the back of her hand. When, suddenly, floorboards creaked and Sirius stepped into the room, Remus nearly gave in to the urge to stand up, just to feel bigger and more present.
For a while, nobody said anything, and the silence wove itself into the automatic script. Sirius looked from Lily to Remus (who liked to pretend his eyes lingered a bit longer on him) and stroked his messy strands of hair back off his face. “Have, uh - have you seen my doggy shirt somewhere?” he muttered, squinting just a little, and the cats came scurrying over to him. Remus wished he could be close to him like that instead of just next to him, on the floor playing cards, on the couch after a mission, in telephone boxes and crowded bars.
A gust of old snow was blown from the roof: blank characters, one two three four and a half (seconds on the page), Remus and Lily shook their heads. “Have you looked under the couch?” Remus suggested quietly. Sirius blinked at him, then his eyes widened and he ran back into the living room, where he and James had crashed that night along with Lily and Peter and the cats.
“Icarus”, Remus called, but the grey creature and his sister had followed Sirius, purring contentedly, as though it was alright, as though the world was alright today, not just unruly scrawl smeared across parchment-thick sky. Then again, perhaps it was, for them.
With a tiny sigh, Lily sat down next to him and turned his face around so that he was forced to look at her. “Tell me, Remus, is it going to be like that for the rest of your lives?” She said lives, and meant it; Remus refrained from telling her that it was only his problem and he didn’t intend to make it Sirius’s problem as well, but she scowled at him and he wanted to hide under his bed until they were all gone, until they stopped making a mess of those issues that he’d sorted neatly into his life.
“How are you feeling?” came Sirius’s voice back, Lily smiled a bit at the déjà-vu moment and Remus watched him open every cupboard in search of something. He was now wearing what he called his doggy shirt, a hooded sweater with a cartoon dog that had initially said I don’t bite before Sirius had charmed it into I don’t bite (often). “Moony, where’s your cereal?” he whined now, and Remus jumped when a bird screeched incredibly close to the window.
“I don’t have cereal”, he mumbled into his palm (colouring lightly because he hadn’t had the money to buy some in time). Sirius shrugged, turned the chair on his other side around and sat backwards on it. Strands of hair fell forward when he leant in close to him to examine his book. “I- I can go down and get some later, if you want”, Remus said, even though he knew there still wouldn’t be any more money in his nighttable than what he’d need for the laundry on Monday.
Sirius yawned into his sleeve and smiled at him in that unnerving way he often did when he was tired. “Nah, that’s alright”, he said, sounding like the actor acting out this day, and only this day, and there was warmth inside Remus as he realized that Sirius was improvising.
“Look, the birds”, Lily suddenly cried out, her voice like a sunrise, like the beginning of a new book. They twisted around to drown their gazes in the light that, as soon as it hit the pavement far below, would be faded and white, but now was a bold title across the surrounding houses. Flocks of black birds had been drawn together on the highest places, bathing in it, as though the sky was filled to the corner with words and the text now continued further down.
Under the table, Sirius’s hand crept towards his own, and Remus blushed. He closed his eyes and held his breath, waiting for the sentence to finish, waiting for The End - when they touched, though, everything around him exploded into poetry.
[This story is dedicated to our wonderful community mods, as a peace offering for having complained about when the prompts get posted at first, and a thank-you for doing this in the first place. I don’t know what you like to read, hell I don’t know if you see this or have time to read it, but anyway. It’s yours.]
Semantics
Behind the window, a net of birds was flung into the air, catching scraps of the early day with their shrill, naked cries that burst on the housewalls. Veins of frost distorted their bodies, turned them into black ink splashes, as though somebody had written on the sky, in another language.
It happened again and again, words reshaped and fell apart, a fist of letters and a line of thought blowing in the wind, and Remus read with his hands on his ears to keep the noise at bay. Usually, it was easy for him to tune out the world, because the world tended to tune him out at times; today, though, the vast space stretching beyond the window distracted him, that sea of birds and hard unripe wind, the foreign croaks from winter throats. His eyes swept along the lines in his book, plunged out the window again, past the frostprints and the glass.
When Lily touched his neck lightly with cold hands, he sighed and wished somebody would turn him into language and write him into the sky, touch it with summerdark fingertips and bring it down upon this strange land where one kiss filled a dozen dreams.
“How are you feeling?” Lily asked and sat down on the table next to his book. “You should sit up straight, Remus, you’re hurting your back.” Her voice was a soft, quivering, warm little creature, a lost bird-comma in the endless pages of cold air. He cradled it tenderly, held it close to his soul; a piece of today’s text, today’s memory letter.
“Twenty-seven hours until moonrise”, he said, I counted, “it’s okay, I’m alright”, still, there wasn’t much else to say. Quietly, Lily’s woollen Gryffindor socks slid over to the fridge, bottles chinged when she opened it. She’d pulled a blue cardigan over her pyjamas and light sizzled in her copper hair. “The others still asleep?” Remus asked. One of the cats jumped onto the windowsill as another paragraph of birds grew in the air outside, ink dripping on snow clouds, running along the rooftops.
Lily poured a little milk into bowls and placed them in a corner, then set the bottle softly down on the table, hesitated. Remus watched while a thin white ring formed around the bottom: almost a full moon. “Sirius is awake, I think”, Lily finally said, sounding careful. The other cat that had been sleeping in Remus’s lap now stretched and slipped down to the floor, curling around Lily’s legs before it joined the first at the milk bowls.
“Maybe you should-”, Lily began, twining breath and speech awkwardly, as if she’d walked into a spider’s web, and touched his elbow with the back of her hand. When, suddenly, floorboards creaked and Sirius stepped into the room, Remus nearly gave in to the urge to stand up, just to feel bigger and more present.
For a while, nobody said anything, and the silence wove itself into the automatic script. Sirius looked from Lily to Remus (who liked to pretend his eyes lingered a bit longer on him) and stroked his messy strands of hair back off his face. “Have, uh - have you seen my doggy shirt somewhere?” he muttered, squinting just a little, and the cats came scurrying over to him. Remus wished he could be close to him like that instead of just next to him, on the floor playing cards, on the couch after a mission, in telephone boxes and crowded bars.
A gust of old snow was blown from the roof: blank characters, one two three four and a half (seconds on the page), Remus and Lily shook their heads. “Have you looked under the couch?” Remus suggested quietly. Sirius blinked at him, then his eyes widened and he ran back into the living room, where he and James had crashed that night along with Lily and Peter and the cats.
“Icarus”, Remus called, but the grey creature and his sister had followed Sirius, purring contentedly, as though it was alright, as though the world was alright today, not just unruly scrawl smeared across parchment-thick sky. Then again, perhaps it was, for them.
With a tiny sigh, Lily sat down next to him and turned his face around so that he was forced to look at her. “Tell me, Remus, is it going to be like that for the rest of your lives?” She said lives, and meant it; Remus refrained from telling her that it was only his problem and he didn’t intend to make it Sirius’s problem as well, but she scowled at him and he wanted to hide under his bed until they were all gone, until they stopped making a mess of those issues that he’d sorted neatly into his life.
“How are you feeling?” came Sirius’s voice back, Lily smiled a bit at the déjà-vu moment and Remus watched him open every cupboard in search of something. He was now wearing what he called his doggy shirt, a hooded sweater with a cartoon dog that had initially said I don’t bite before Sirius had charmed it into I don’t bite (often). “Moony, where’s your cereal?” he whined now, and Remus jumped when a bird screeched incredibly close to the window.
“I don’t have cereal”, he mumbled into his palm (colouring lightly because he hadn’t had the money to buy some in time). Sirius shrugged, turned the chair on his other side around and sat backwards on it. Strands of hair fell forward when he leant in close to him to examine his book. “I- I can go down and get some later, if you want”, Remus said, even though he knew there still wouldn’t be any more money in his nighttable than what he’d need for the laundry on Monday.
Sirius yawned into his sleeve and smiled at him in that unnerving way he often did when he was tired. “Nah, that’s alright”, he said, sounding like the actor acting out this day, and only this day, and there was warmth inside Remus as he realized that Sirius was improvising.
“Look, the birds”, Lily suddenly cried out, her voice like a sunrise, like the beginning of a new book. They twisted around to drown their gazes in the light that, as soon as it hit the pavement far below, would be faded and white, but now was a bold title across the surrounding houses. Flocks of black birds had been drawn together on the highest places, bathing in it, as though the sky was filled to the corner with words and the text now continued further down.
Under the table, Sirius’s hand crept towards his own, and Remus blushed. He closed his eyes and held his breath, waiting for the sentence to finish, waiting for The End - when they touched, though, everything around him exploded into poetry.