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Challenge #17: April Table of Doom
Title: Dreams
Style(s)/Genre(s) Used: Present tense + Drama
Word Count: 408
Rating: PG-13
Original/Fandom: Original
Pairings (if any): Neirin/Rhys
Warnings (Non-Con/Dub-Con/etc): Drug use
Summary: Kirania Four is a world of infinite possibility.
Kirania Four is a world of infinite possibility.
There are restaurants and bars, clubs and well-to-do houses where graceful escorts can be purchased for the night. But, if one strays from the glittering grand avenues, through winding, cobbled streets too narrow for any vehicle, establishments of an entirely different persuasion can be found-dimly lit rooms where one can buy oblivion and destroy old sins with the discovery of new ones.
The drug houses of Kirania Four are the stuff of infamy and legend, somewhere in the liminal space between shame and pride. A piece of culture that cannot, and will not, be denied.
Kiranians do not believe in god. And why should they, with the infinite as close as a cloud of fragrant smoke.
Even those who don't smoke seem to smell of it.
Neirin exhales slowly and lets his head fall to the side, his eyes half-closed and his shirt half-open. He laughs softly, delightedly, and can't remember what day of the week it is. But it doesn't really matter; it's just a passing thought, floating across the surface of his mind like petals on a stream.
He lifts the long pipe to his lips again, rolls the smoke in his mouth before releasing it into the still air.
The past mingles with the present in his dreaming mind, meets with the possibilities of the future and flits away before he can grasp the thread.
True Kiranians thrive on dreams, calling Carlisle the Dreaming City in murmurs foreigners never hear. The drugs are a way for dreams to touch reality, drawing them into the waking world, until they are one and the same.
“Neirin,” the voice is low, quiet, sweetly familiar.
Neirin’s eyes open slowly, struggled to focus, pupils large and fathomless. “Mmm, Rhys. This stuff is better than I thought-you’re on Kirania Three.” He draws another long drag off the pipe, accepting the hallucinations. It's very nice to see Rhys again. Does it really matter if it's just in Neirin’s head?
“No, Neirin.” Rhys takes Neirin’s free hand in both of his. “I’m not on Kirania Three. You aren’t dreaming.”
“’m always dreaming.” He stretches lazily. “But you could kiss me.”
Rhys sighs and bends to press a quick kiss to Neirin’s lips. “Come with me, Neirin, you’ve been here for hours.”
“You missed me.”
“Yes,” Rhys agrees without hesitation or thought.
“Then it’s time to go.”
And he smiles.
Style(s)/Genre(s) Used: Present tense + Drama
Word Count: 408
Rating: PG-13
Original/Fandom: Original
Pairings (if any): Neirin/Rhys
Warnings (Non-Con/Dub-Con/etc): Drug use
Summary: Kirania Four is a world of infinite possibility.
Kirania Four is a world of infinite possibility.
There are restaurants and bars, clubs and well-to-do houses where graceful escorts can be purchased for the night. But, if one strays from the glittering grand avenues, through winding, cobbled streets too narrow for any vehicle, establishments of an entirely different persuasion can be found-dimly lit rooms where one can buy oblivion and destroy old sins with the discovery of new ones.
The drug houses of Kirania Four are the stuff of infamy and legend, somewhere in the liminal space between shame and pride. A piece of culture that cannot, and will not, be denied.
Kiranians do not believe in god. And why should they, with the infinite as close as a cloud of fragrant smoke.
Even those who don't smoke seem to smell of it.
Neirin exhales slowly and lets his head fall to the side, his eyes half-closed and his shirt half-open. He laughs softly, delightedly, and can't remember what day of the week it is. But it doesn't really matter; it's just a passing thought, floating across the surface of his mind like petals on a stream.
He lifts the long pipe to his lips again, rolls the smoke in his mouth before releasing it into the still air.
The past mingles with the present in his dreaming mind, meets with the possibilities of the future and flits away before he can grasp the thread.
True Kiranians thrive on dreams, calling Carlisle the Dreaming City in murmurs foreigners never hear. The drugs are a way for dreams to touch reality, drawing them into the waking world, until they are one and the same.
“Neirin,” the voice is low, quiet, sweetly familiar.
Neirin’s eyes open slowly, struggled to focus, pupils large and fathomless. “Mmm, Rhys. This stuff is better than I thought-you’re on Kirania Three.” He draws another long drag off the pipe, accepting the hallucinations. It's very nice to see Rhys again. Does it really matter if it's just in Neirin’s head?
“No, Neirin.” Rhys takes Neirin’s free hand in both of his. “I’m not on Kirania Three. You aren’t dreaming.”
“’m always dreaming.” He stretches lazily. “But you could kiss me.”
Rhys sighs and bends to press a quick kiss to Neirin’s lips. “Come with me, Neirin, you’ve been here for hours.”
“You missed me.”
“Yes,” Rhys agrees without hesitation or thought.
“Then it’s time to go.”
And he smiles.