Fic: Because of the Wind
Title: Because of the Wind
Rating: G
Pairing: Ariadne/Arthur
Word Count: ~240
Warning (highlight to read): Character lost to limbo
Summary: Ariadne visits a favorite city to remember.
She loves this city because of the wind.
She comes here every few months and sits on the same park bench, the one that faces the sun as it sets over the lake. It is completely silent except for the breeze that blows against her face, tossing her hair around and making her skin prickle. The wind makes the water ripple, and if she closes her eyes she feels something almost like the light brush of fingers against her arm and whispers in her ear.
When she walks further into the city the streets are quiet. The cars are still and the sidewalks are empty. The gusts blow the leaves and the dirt away, leaving spotless neighborhoods behind. The air, free of smog and stench, is so crisp it almost makes her nose hurt. It smells like something that she is always on the cusp of remembering, but never can. It’s a clean, comforting scent.
It never smells that way when she tests the dream by herself. The wind is still then.
When she visits his hospital room, she stokes his black hair and kisses his cheek before slipping the needle in. He’s been lost to limbo for so long that the others have given up hope, and even she knows not to expect miracles. But when she opens her eyes and feels the wind on her cheeks she finds solace in the knowledge that once consciousness leaves, not everything is left behind.
Rating: G
Pairing: Ariadne/Arthur
Word Count: ~240
Warning (highlight to read): Character lost to limbo
Summary: Ariadne visits a favorite city to remember.
She loves this city because of the wind.
She comes here every few months and sits on the same park bench, the one that faces the sun as it sets over the lake. It is completely silent except for the breeze that blows against her face, tossing her hair around and making her skin prickle. The wind makes the water ripple, and if she closes her eyes she feels something almost like the light brush of fingers against her arm and whispers in her ear.
When she walks further into the city the streets are quiet. The cars are still and the sidewalks are empty. The gusts blow the leaves and the dirt away, leaving spotless neighborhoods behind. The air, free of smog and stench, is so crisp it almost makes her nose hurt. It smells like something that she is always on the cusp of remembering, but never can. It’s a clean, comforting scent.
It never smells that way when she tests the dream by herself. The wind is still then.
When she visits his hospital room, she stokes his black hair and kisses his cheek before slipping the needle in. He’s been lost to limbo for so long that the others have given up hope, and even she knows not to expect miracles. But when she opens her eyes and feels the wind on her cheeks she finds solace in the knowledge that once consciousness leaves, not everything is left behind.